#cw suicide reference

[oddlittlestories]

Thinking about House

Thinking about how he struggles to stay alive sometimes, how no one knows how hard it is for him. Partly bc he won’t tell them and partly bc they won’t Get it even if he does

Thinking about how when Wilson finally Does get it, it’s also totally different. Thinking about how he can’t say, “SEE?!”

Thinking about how he almost does

Thinking about his totally valid anger, that is also completely unfair

Thinking about how he must feel how rarely it gets to be about him

Thinking about the layers he creates so it’s never about him

Thinking about how intimacy and true understanding are two totally different things

Thinking about House

[finrod-feelagund]

Elros collecting Narsil

[eclaire-went-bam]

if i see one more of my friends finish off having a likewarm ahh opinion with "but maybe i'm just delusional idk" i'm going to blow my brains out

[girderednerve]

sorry everyone i am still going on about work

i have had multiple pretty weird conversations wtih my coworker who is like. i think literally old enough to be my grandmother—she told me that i remind her of her grandchild & that's part of why she likes me—about my whole, like, gender situation. her grandkid is nonbinary & she is terrible at using their pronouns & clearly does not get it at all but wants to be cool, which is obviously fine, but it's confusing because she'll do this whole bit at me about how she totally gets it when i talk about how maybe i will not be long for this job, however much i like working there, due to vicious state laws and then she'll tell me about how she's really worried that laws restricting gender affirming care for trans people will negatively affect parents of intersex children. actually she did that this morning and i made her uncomfortable in response, i was like "well, they get an explicit carve-out, actually! because that is exactly the kind of attitude towards bodies & consent that these laws are about!" but i didn't know what else to say there, like i can't go from honestly telling her that i think our state's bans on trans health care will result in a rising suicide rate to like, smiling politely at her concern for parents who want their infants to receive risky cosmetic surgery.

i forget sometimes that the understanding i have of gender is deeply informed by the long ongoing conversation on here, & also by my experiences & the conversations i've had with other trans people. but it feels wild sometimes to be talking to someone about something which feels so fundamental & so important & realize that they have like. never really thought about it. i am sure i have so so many things that i haven't thought through deeply & should, but it's just still disorienting. kind of painful. makes me a little sad for her grandkid, i told her she should be proud of them for knowing themselves. i kind of feel like i did a bad job there trying to like, Express the Trans Experience as the local Pronoun Haver, rip

also she asked me what i'd say to my twenty-year-old self and i was like "uh, i was in a pretty specific situation...." lmao

anyway i dealt with my feelings by posting a podfic about magneto. i am so well-adjusted

[devileaterjaek]

[knific]

⚠️CW suicide, noose

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sorry idk why I did this

[strangelittlestories]

The demon appeared amidst the ring of candles and immediately threw itself against the edge of the summoning circle, trying again and again to break the barriers of salt, chalk and soul.

Alas, it was no good. The magician had invested in high quality chalk paint and superglued the salt over the top, so even the most thunder-thick and sin-hot hellstorm could not pierce the barrier.

Drops of sweat appeared on the summoner’s brow as she felt the strands of spirit she’d wrapped around the runes and candles tested - but her soul stood strong.

“Well then,” said the demon, after it had exhausted itself with its struggles, “get on with it. I suppose you want damnable power or eternal life or some boring shit.”

“Do you remember me?” Asked the woman outside the circle.

“Should I?” The demon’s sigh echoed with quiet screams.

“We met when you were an angel. You saved my life. It was down by the riverbank not far from here.”

“...oh sure, for you it was a transcendent event. For me, it was Thursday.”

“I think the meme you mean is ‘Tuesday’.”

“Yes, but the night we met was a Thursday.” The demon curled up in the middle of a circle; a sad blob of darkness in which floated two dying embers for eyes. “You shouldn’t remember me.”

“I know. You were the frost in the air and the ice in the water. You were a shock to the system. You woke something up in me. I studied all this,” the magician gestured to the occult tat that surrounded them, “so that I could thank you.”

“You shouldn’t have bothered.”

“It was a surprise to find out you’d fallen, I admit. But I still owe you my thanks.”

“This is exhausting.” The demon twisted uncomfortably, wringing itself out like a cloth woven of shadowfire strands. “Offer your deal, so I can hang you on your own ambition and go.”

“I would like,” the magician put all the force and care of her will into her words, “for you to watch a movie with me. In exchange, I will give up to three hours of my life.”

“...what movie do you want to watch?”

“Anything less than three hours long, I suppose.”

[jayjamjary]

Hello Lupin III fandom. I come bearing haha funny Goemon comic.

And then this was a pretty big project and I was forced to do it on Ibis Paint X :c so I'm going to show off the draft vs final down here.

Tada. Terribly grainy video but oh well, it's the best that ibis could give me.

[chayannesegg]

honestly I think it’s kinda interesting how phil’s relationships with wilbur, tallulah, chayanne & tubbo are all reflecting back into his view of sunny tbh. like he has such complex delicate interwoven dynamics with all of them and it all gets thrown onto sunny, this poor kid who he loves in theory, but in practice is a stranger to him. 

like wilbur left tallulah in phil’s care and didn’t come back. even now way after he was initially supposed to, wilbur hasn’t returned (that one day aside). and phil, who had already taken on a big commitment watching tallulah, has been left permanently with two eggs in his sole care. and even though he loves tallulah and wil, and won’t want them out of his life, this is a stress for him. it’s a big undertaking for anyone, to care for two kids alone, but especially since tallulah required a lot of changes in his life.

for better or worse, in many ways phil sees chayanne as an extension of himself. they’re similar in a lot of ways, and often on the same page, and it means phil often struggles to catch up when chayanne’s emotions aren’t on the same page as him. we’ve seen this week, phil having such a hard time understanding the depth and breadth of chayanne’s grief. when he catches on, he usually does a good job empathising and talking it through, but when he doesn’t, he really doesn’t and it can be hard to watch. 

the same is NOT true for tallulah. he has, through hard work and practice, learnt how to identify her emotions. he had to. she needed it. she would have been miserable otherwise. she desperately needed asked for the emotional care and birthdays and consideration that chayanne would never ask for. and he’s good at it—tracking her moods, knowing what upsets her & what she cares about in a way that doesn’t come as naturally with chayanne (or sunny or tubbo or anyone else really expect maybe wilbur). but that took A LOT of time and effort, months of work, and I do think he’s a bit wary of the idea of having to do that again, even when it comes to people he loves like chayanne (or god forbid tubbo).

now tubbo is not wil. tubbo is not phil's son. but he’s still not dissimilar to wil in phil’s mind. whatever the backstory is, phil introduces tubbo to tallulah as an old friend of him and wil’s. he makes tubbo his kids’ godfather. he calls tubbo his boy. he looks out for him. but past those first few weeks, their relationship doesn’t progress. they mean a lot to each other bc of their pasts, but they don’t put any work into upkeeping their relationship and phil in particular doesn’t reflect at all on what how that changes their dynamic. and it does change it—this is clear in purgatory, with phil having zero trust in tubbo to protect chayanne and tallulah, and after, with tubbo endlessly poking at phil’s sore spots trying to illicit a reaction he’ll never receive. 

it's also clear in the way phil has no understanding of what’s going on with tubbo. if he’s struggling to grasp chay’s emotions, he’s not even touching what’s going on in tubbo’s head. tubbo’s death makes no sense to him. it’s sudden. it’s random. it’s illogical. it’s stupid. he wasn’t joking about having two lives? he still took a death bet with richas? he’s not come back? he can’t come back? he’s left phil with distraught kids for no reason with no warning. he doesn’t see the erratic suicidal behaviour, the unending depression, the desperation to be loved. he doesn’t want to see it. he doesn’t want something to be wrong with tubbo, but he also doesn’t even know how to see what’s wrong. he’s annoyed he’s having to deal with it and he desperately desperately wants to believe this is all happening for no reason.

bc at the forefront of phil’s mind is still his love for tubbo. of course, phil would drop everything to help tubbo (if he could recognize something was wrong). of course, he would care for sunny as his own. of course, he would make the same sacrifices he’s made for wil. and he assumes he’ll have to. he thought that sunny would now be under his care. that he’d have to figure out the logistics of a third egg to care for. with wilbur, phil was the only person who could ever have taken care of tallulah. the only person he trusted, the only person who knew tallulah enough. now this isn’t true for tubbo. it’s a genuinely illogical assumption for phil to make: three eggs would be a genuine burden on him; they've never spoken about it; there’s a long list of people who would tubbo expects for sunny before; and he doesn’t even know sunny well enough to name these people for her as comfort.

but still in the moment, alone with tubbo’s eggs and dealing with everything he left behind, phil can only think that the exact same thing that happened before will happen: he alone will be left to care for another scared hurt kid of someone he loves.

and here we come to sunny. a kid whose dad he loves. a kid whose dad he doesn’t understand. a kid whose dad is suddenly gone like his son is gone. a kid who would need him like his daughter needs him. a kid who his son needs to protect. a kid he cares for. a kid he can’t afford to care for, a kid he wasn’t expecting to care for, a kid he doesn’t know how to care for, a kid he would care for if he needed to, a kid he doesn’t know why he’s been left to care for. a kid who is somehow a reflection of all these people he loves but not someone he knows at all.

idk i think this tension comes out in the a lot of the comments phil makes of and to sunny. he doesn't know them well enough to distinguish them from his relationships with other people. and as long as no one challenges him on that, we'll continue to hear these misplaced comments from him, that come across so insensitively, even as he tries his best to genuinely help them and their dad.

[cubitodragon-moved]

We (the viewers) know Bad’s physical and mental state is in decline, highlighted especially by the head wound that continues expanding to a worrying degree.

And now he’s fixated on building a puzzle that will deliberately drive someone into an absolute rage, to the point they’d murder him. He’s really really fixated on that point. Like, he has doubled down on the emphasis.

He’s been vaguely referencing how he needs to keep going as long as he can (paraphrased) for a while. Is this a case where he cannot let himself fade away, to die at his own hand, but needs someone else to take him out - and if so, why? What additional purpose does death serve in this scenario? How does this tie in to memories, libraries and remembering?

I have to go sleep now. But thinking about this could well keep me up all night.

[oddlittlestories]

Still thinking about wh for obvious reasons but

I think the end is really interesting—the choices the team all make to deal with their grief & shock.

Taub reaches out to his wife.

Foreman connects with Chase and Cameron.

Thirteen finally runs the test for whether she has Huntington’s.

And Kutner, Kutner just watches tv. Alone. He doesn’t face it.

And I don’t even think the writers had planned his arc yet but it just hits me so hard. He doesn’t reach out to anyone. He doesn’t do anything for his mental health. He just goes home to watch tv.

Ouch.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

For the @ficwip word of the week: clean.

Someone had cleaned up the blood, Ted noticed. He thought about that a lot, how someone had to clean up the blood. No one thought about that. Until you needed to think about it. Until you needed to clean the blood up yourself.

Roy didn’t look at him. Ted didn’t blame him. Jamie and Roy had gotten closer since the latter started doing his extra training with Jamie. Ted worried about Jamie’s well-being with it, especially when he caught him asleep in his locker days after the West Ham match, but Roy had not minced words when he told him to fudge off, so that was the end of that.

Ted wasn’t doing a lot of managing these days anyway. Roy had Jamie. The rest of the team followed Zava like he was about to serve Flavor Aid, and Ted, well Ted was just there.

And now he was here, in a Brighton hospital with a concussed Jamie Tartt and an even angrier than normal Roy Kent.

[redactedcrowart]

he forgot about gravity!

[plan-3-tmars]

"She deserved someone to love and she chose me. And so I played the part until I couldn’t anymore."

- Arthur Lester, Malevolent Podcast

HEY hi it's me um I know I've talked about the end scene of half already but I was rewatching it .. as you do and I think I found another interpretation of it I like so!! I wanna talk about it!!

I noticed that the way this specific scene reveals kazui biting the apple vs hinako's suicide is very similar and I kind of like the idea that this the moments leading up to hinako's suicide from both their perspectives?

Take Kazui biting the apple, I think this could be the moment he decides to tell the truth. Rip off the bandaid, so to speak.

This posing of the apple, with it being on the table, is EVERYWHERE in half. It's literally the first thing we see in the MV.

I like to interpret it as a nagging reminder, a weight on Kazui's shoulder he always knows is there. In this scene he acknowledges this weight, the weight of his lies and the secrets he's kept from Hinako and decides enough is enough

He rips off the bandaid, he tells her the truth.

Then the flashbacks move on to Hinako, contemplating suicide on what I assume is their home balcony. She's just learnt from Kazui that he doesn't love her anymore, he never has loved her. Their relationship was a lie originally built for his benefit. She's distraught I'm sure, Kazui arrives and seems to try and talk her out of it

But it doesn't work. She jumps, and she dies. The price Kazui paid to get this weight off his chest was Hinako's life.

This parallel shows that really well i think:

No more lies,

No more Hinako.

[grislyintentions]

“Did you know if you point your fingers at the moon, the Jade Rabbit will slice your ear off with a sickle in your sleep?” 

Clear water ripples with each absent-minded swing of feet. The taste of candied hawthorn and lotus paste lingers, painting lips with a glossy sheen that constricts the chest each time he gazes at them.  

“That’s stupid. Why would she do that?” 

“Because. The Moon Fairy is sad. She can’t come back down and reunite with her husband. So she hates being pointed at. It’s mean. Like you’re making fun of her misery.” 

Salted egg yolk crumbles between his teeth. He frowns. Spat them out. Gross. Too ashy. Too dry. Over-baked. 

“Why can’t she reunite with her husband?” 

“Because he killed himself. There was only one immortal elixir so he couldn’t join her.” 

“Then why didn’t she share it?” 

“She couldn’t.” 

“That’s dumb.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth when a bony elbow meets his sides in admonishment and insists. “It is!” 

What a terrible story. 

“I wouldn’t have drank the elixir if I knew there was only one,” he declares. “I’d share it with you or throw it away if I can’t.” 

“You would?”   

“Of course.” He turns his gaze away, stuffing the rest of his piece into his mouth after making sure it didn’t contain any more salted yolk. “You’re my best friend.” 

It’s weird. He’s looking at him weirdly. The pit in his stomach feels weird. His face is too hot and the taste of hawthorn is too sweet. With a squint, he adamantly changes the subject. 

“How do you know all this anyways?” 

In response, all he gets is a bright smile. His companion half turns his face and turns his ear inward for him to examine. 

There he saw it- 

A scar right along half of his ear, all the way down towards the earlobe. 

The mark of a crescent moon. 

He wakes the following night with a stinging sensation at the back of his own ear and dried blood caked beneath his nails.

It still aches sometimes.

[strangelittlestories]

Three weeks into the latest depressive episode A magazine calls - they want me on the cover

I tell them they’ve made a mistake I tell them the only reason I picked up Was for the sticky ‘ew’ feeling Of answering a phone call In this day and age

I tell them I haven’t showered And all I’ve eaten today Is a pack of six bake-at-home cinnamon buns And I feel a bit sick

He tells me I work for ‘Not Okay’ Magazine And we don’t make mistakes

Well, okay, we do Often But most of the time they’re sexy mistakes. We both know he’s lying, But I agree out of exhaustion.

They send a photographer to my flat We agree on a series of tasteful nudes With unwashed laundry And mouldy mugs In all the right places. They ooze attitude They also ooze literal ‘ooze’ Because of the, y’know, mould.

I list my nearest and dearest So they can ask for quotes. The one they print reads: “I wouldn’t really call us friends I haven’t heard from them In years I assumed they were mad at me.”

We chat in my living room Over a single measuring jug filled With expired instant coffee The interviewer breathes in a waft Of bovril-smelling caffeine slurry  And wipes the awe from his eyes Then says:

“A few years ago No-one knew you You were medium sad The human equivalent of a drive-thru restaurant Bad, sure, but everyone knew what they were getting. You were … a C minus.

But now? You’re a landmark A national trust ruin They may as well tattoo ‘This is not a place of honour’ On the small of your back.

My doctor heard I was interviewing you And referred me for therapy  As a precaution. So let me ask the question on everyone’s lips? What’s your secret?”

“What a great question.” I say, wrestling the coffee From his hands Because I deserve it

“It takes a lot of practice. You’ve just got to make time To remap your synapses I try to fit in one life-changingly bad event a year To really forge new wide-ranging roads Through my internal atlas Away from those depots of cloying serotonin I know I don’t deserve. Y’know, something really verve-destroying.

I’ve careened across the map Wheels burning into redundancy town Double-parking at heartbreak hotel (did you know you could fail a break-up?) Getting a ticket on bereavement boulevard A hit-and-run through jury service-ville (leaving my faith in humanity behind)

And of course Pandemic City was a blessing  for all us sad-sacks But an extra spicy affair if you worked in healthcare

Finally, I crashed the metaphor into a river On the coldest night on record But it was pretty shallow And I think the cold probably helped Shock me out of it. Plus, I made it home with my trousers only partially frozen.

We are creatures of habit, Michael Can I call you Michael?”

(He quickly corrects me - Michael is not his name - “I didn’t ask you what your fucking name was I asked if I could call you Michael” He says yes)

“Like I said - creatures of habit If you *practice* If you really dig your feet in If you cut a wide furrow through the mud Some part of you will start to think Of the hole you burrowed in the dirt As home.

Your highest landmarks Are distant skyline and To visit would feel like trespassing.”

At the end of the interview I ask Michael If he’s sure I’m qualified To be a coverperson

After all There are so many people More ‘not okay’ than me Or who have more reason to be Yet remain seemingly functional.

“That’s the beauty of Not Okay magazine,” he says, with a smile like marshmallow “We don’t judge or rank. We ask for one thing: That today you are not okay.

In its own way, every sadness is interesting Even when it feels boring as the road you grew up on Tomorrow you might even be happy That’s okay too. Tomorrow is an impossibility of sunrises. Today - you are seen.”