Color Palette Series Day 4: Yako (TBHK/Toilet-Bound Hanako-Kun)

hold on let me consult the ancient texts about this *unfurls a rack of bbq ribs like it’s a scroll*

Probably wont do amasai week day 7 actually, not feeling the best and have no ideas- I thought of making mm!rantaro or something but I absolutely cannot write mastermind fics for the life of me

Plus my mom has forcibly decided today is "phone detox day" so I'm actually not going to be on my phone at all for the rest of the day unless I find a way to sneak time in, which means all my plans to catch up on asks for my imagines blog and askblog are dead too

so yea

I'm gonna post less often for now, camp started and basically nothing on my phone works when I'm there >:/

Color Palette Series day 13: Makoto Naegi (Danganronpa)

rb if you’d wipe all pedophiles off this earth

What if there was a scented candle company called common scents (like common sense yknow) and all the candles smell like stupid shit like "hand sanitizer" and "microwave bag corn"

stop it stop gaining power foul creature

Brain cell 1: oi we're behind on amasai week make amasai things

Brain cell 2: hehehehe what if nagito tartaglia

Proof

I think an extremely important part of mental health awareness and intervention is acknowledging that no, help isn’t actually always available. Or the “help” that is, isn’t actually helpful.

When I was 22 I hit a wall. I called the suicide hotline from my car so my roommates wouldn’t hear me crying. I explained that I could barely shower, feed, or dress myself. I needed immediate intervention.

They asked me if they could send an ambulance for me. They wanted to hospitalize me. I explained that I was a week away from finals. And graduation. If I were hospitalized, I couldn’t graduate. The inpatient program also didn’t allow phones or visitors, and I knew how disastrous it would be for me to lose contact with my family support system.

I didn’t need to be hospitalized. I needed daily solutions. Simple ones, even. I needed a few precooked meals in my fridge so I could use my menial energy to keep my body going. I needed a doctor to contact my school and ask if I could have some extensions on my class assignments. I neededna few excused absences so I could catch up on my lost sleep.

They told me there was an intensive program that allowed residents to live in an inpatient care facility and get daily help with tasks like eating, therapy, medication, and showering, while still leaving for work and school, but it cost $30,000. I told them half the reason I was calling them was because of my financial pressures and fear.

In about 10 minutes of back-and-forth, it became clear that they had no true solution for me. I could go into the hospital and an inpatient program which would interrupt my entire life, and which I knew did not create very good results and had traumatized some of my own friends, or, well, I couldn’t even go into debt for the other program. They didn’t accept any new patients without half of the cost upfront. So it wasn’t even an option.

No therapist or psychiatrists or social workers could fit me in for 3-8 weeks.

So I said thank you and hung up, emotionally spent. I felt utterly empty.

Sitting in my car I realized I had a choice, to live or to stop. Nobody was going to save me. Nobody was going to help.

So I went inside, and I cried myself to sleep, and when I woke up I still hadn’t made a choice. So then I did. I chose to live no matter how terrible, just in case things turned around down the road.

It was unspeakably difficult. I didn’t shower. I barely ate. I either slept too much or not enough.

But I did survive, and a year later I got with a therapist who started to make things a little lighter for me.

I still struggle now, but things are usually much better, and I’m glad I’m still here.

I just think it’s important to acknowledge that for many people, especially in rural areas, and for people without money, which is most people, that the “help is always available” line feels hollow. Because often times it isn’t, actually.

But that doesn’t mean there will never be.

Overall, we need to build an entirely new system for mental health support in this world.

But for now, ask yourself or your friend in crisis what might make things a little more bearable until help actually is available.

A meal? Emailing a professor? Clean laundry? What might make things a little lighter?

I know that on the very brink, things like this may seem totally pointlessnor trivial. But if you can’t stop yourself or someone from falling, sometimes the only way to save someone is with a softer landing.

Alright so

I was scrolling through the depths of Tumblr, specifically to like the very bottom of a blog page for no real reason, and I found this lovely post amongst the feed

Lexi The Meme Lord

Spoilers for Super Danganronpa 2 ahead!

I just had a terrifying thought. Makoto and Nagito aren’t that dissimilar when it comes to hope.  Remember that scene in Chapter 6 where Mak

This was reblogged on September 20th, meaning it was made even before then, and yet nobody had actually made insane makoto yet, just said they wanted to and probably forgot.

Guess what peeps

Its 2021

I did it (click for better quality)

And boy oh boy am I proud of this 5 hour thing

Proof under the cut

Mentioning everyone who reblogged the og post so they can see this

@makotonaegikinnie @lover-boy-in-red @leafintel @vanillastarberry @lemon-is-my-name @dissimilarjupiter @kill-me-god-plase

Beta @amasaiweek day 5: lullaby/silence

I'll post days 3 and 4 probably either today or tomorrow- I've had a headache and it's taking away from my art/writing motivation

Also those two days are gonna be hella angsty so look out

@kagazuly au credit

No trigger warnings, just fluff

-----------------------------------------------------

Rantaro Amami, the one the others all knew as the Ultimate War Medic, wandered the halls of the school he'd known for just a couple weeks but that already felt like a home. Not that he'd really miss this place, once his research paid off and they could finally end the killing game for good. He just liked to enjoy the little good things in all this while they lasted, like Miu and Kirumi's homemade breakfasts and Kaito's dumb card game. Like the time they all changed into comfortable clothes to spite Monokuma. Like when Miu and Angie teamed up to paint memories for those who couldn't let them go. Like the occasional therapy meetings they could always count on to raise their hopes. Those one-on-one sessions with...

Korekiyo.

Tsumugi's kille-

No. The medic stopped himself. It won't matter, past tomorrow. We'll create an unsolvable mystery, him and I, and the mastermind will have no choice but to reveal themselves. And when that happens, all of us will stop this cruel game together, and we'll be free to escape and live our lives as we want. Whether that be together or not.

It was then that the sound of his footsteps was accompanied by another, softer sound. Violin. Shuichi's lab was abuzz with the music, most likely being played for himself or Kirumi. Rantaro creeped closer, not wanting his steps to overshadow the beautiful, hopeful melody.

He sat and leaned against the wall, sighing. This late at night, the music was welcome among the usual dead silence and despair in the halls. It was a light, a light that made the darkness around him feel... warm. Peaceful. Something he hadn't felt since the beginning of this cruel game.

It would all be over tomorrow.

So why not enjoy what's left today?

He had come this far, after all. He deserved a little break.

He shut his eyes and let the soft melody slowly lull him to sleep.

...

The blonde boy stepped carefully out of his lab for the night, not wanting to wake anyone up. Closing the door behind him, he realized a shadowy figure lay against the wall nearby. A body? A person waiting to kill him? The mastermind? His mind raced, but the shadow didn't move. He decided to investigate and saw... Rantaro? The person who'd been holed up in Ryoma's lab all these days, barely seen by the others? Out here in the open? And he was fast asleep, too. Not at all like how he normally acted.

If they wanted to, he thought, the mastermind could kill Rantaro right now, make it look like I or another person did it. He's so vulnerable out here, and he's an important part of our group, and- Shuichi sat down next to the medic, determined to keep watch over him for the night.

Although he must have fallen asleep sometime, he knew, or else he wouldn't have woken up with his head leaning on Rantaro's shoulder.