#cw: thoughts of suicide

[draganwhorror]

Moonflower

Author's note: This is a short story involving Wesley Mondale from Supernatural (my absolute favorite one-off character, played by Ted Raimi). I was inspired to write this fic after seeing a prompt about a person getting caught stealing flowers from another person's garden and trying to find a way to tell them the flowers were for a grave. I may have gone off the rails with the angst, and I legitimately made myself cry multiple times while writing this. Also, the other character names were inspired by a Cabbage Patch Doll I had as a kid. Her name was Cleo Kate, but for whatever reason, I renamed her and called her Dawn Hope. Hence those names showing up in the story (and yes, I do know Hope is the name of the character Wes is engaged to in the episode). Anyway, I think that's it. Feel free to let me know what you think. Thanks!

It was the same thing every week.

The flowers that bloomed in the garden of the house on the corner of the street called to him. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he was going to get caught one of these days. But he couldn’t help himself. He’d creep through the backyard, warily listening for any sound that might mean he’d been discovered. So far, he hadn’t been, but he knew his luck would run out eventually.

Every Friday, Wes would take a small handful of flowers and carry them with him to the cemetery, his heart aching as he got closer and closer to the grave he planned to visit. He knew he needed to stop torturing himself like this. To find a better way to grieve. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself from returning each and every week. He’d kneel at the grave, place the flowers down, and lightly run his fingers over the words etched into the stone—Here lies Dawn. Beloved wife and mother. 1982-2014.

She’d been so young. Too young. It wasn’t fair. Wes had thought, after he’d undone that terrible wish he’d made all those years ago and lost the woman he’d thought he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with, he’d never get a second chance. But then Dawn had come into his life, almost by accident, and Wes had thought he’d finally get his happily ever after. A proper one, too. But it hadn’t been meant to be. Fate was a cruel mistress.

Wes would stay at her grave for hours, talking to her, telling her how much he missed her and wished he could have more time with her. How he wished he could grow old with her. How he dreaded going through the rest of his life alone. He’d sigh and let his tears fall, and then he’d get up and move over to the other grave…

There, under a tall oak tree, lay a small headstone with the name "Hope" carved delicately into the marble, and underneath the words “Beloved daughter gone too soon. 2010-2014.” Wes would kneel once more, this time with a bittersweet smile on his face. Hope had been their daughter, a bright spark in their lives that had been extinguished far too soon.

He would place the remaining flowers by her grave and sit in silence, remembering the day she’d been born. He had explained to Dawn what he had done with his grandfather’s special coin before she’d met him, and even though he’d been ashamed of his actions, Dawn had patted his shoulder and told him the past didn’t matter anymore. And then she’d named their sweet little girl after the woman. At first, Wes had thought it a cruel trick, but Dawn had told him she wanted to show him that his past didn’t have to define his future. He could still have hope and love, even when he thought he didn’t deserve it. And Hope had brought so much joy to his life in her short time on Earth.

Wes would sit and remember her infectious laughter and curious eyes that always seemed to be full of wonder. He would share stories of the adventures he wished they could have, the bedtime tales he used to whisper to her as she fell asleep.

It was in these moments, surrounded by the ghosts of his past, that Wes would struggle with his emotions, and with trying to keep their memories alive, ensuring they were never forgotten. The sun would start its descent beyond the horizon, casting long shadows across the cemetery, signaling it was time to depart. Wes would slowly push himself up from the ground, wanting to join them but knowing it wasn’t the right path for him. Neither Dawn nor Hope would want that, and so, he’d continue on, and every Friday, like clockwork, he’d return to their graves with a new bundle of flowers from the garden.

It had been two weeks since Wes had last visited his wife and daughter. He’d had to skip the Friday prior due to a storm that had kept him inside all weekend. He’d mourned not being able to talk to them, but he would make up for it this week.

As Wes walked down the street towards the house on the corner, with its lovely little garden, he thought about how much he missed the presence of his wife and daughter in his life. The weight of their absence felt heavier with each passing day, and Wes found himself seeking solace in these weekly visits to the cemetery. The routine had become a lifeline for him, a way to process his grief in the quiet company of their memories.

Glancing around, he carefully crept through the backyard towards the flowers that always seemed to be in bloom. As he began to pick the ones he wanted to place on the graves, he heard a voice behind him.

“Excuse me.”

Startled, Wes whirled around, dropping the flowers in his hand. He saw a withered-looking old man standing there, a cane in one hand. He shuffled towards Wes, a frown on his wrinkled face.

“I… I’m sorry, sir,” Wes said, feeling like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I…”

The man cut him off with a wave of his hand. “You’re here in my backyard every week, at the same time, taking my flowers. Why is that? D’you have yourself a pretty little lady you give these flowers to? Perhaps I should come with you today and make sure your girl is worthy of my flowers. What say you?”

Wes just stood there, his mouth hanging open as he struggled to find the words to explain to this elderly gentleman just what he did with the flowers each week. Before he could utter a word, though, the old man was bending down to retrieve the flowers Wes had dropped. He handed them back to Wes, then motioned for him to take a few more.

“A pretty girl should have lots of pretty flowers,” the man told him as Wes picked another small handful. “Now, let’s go see the woman you’ve been stealing my flowers for.”

The man turned and walked out of his yard, and Wes followed timidly behind him, still trying to get his mouth and brain to work together so he could tell this man there was no lady love. Not anymore.

As they walked, the man continued to talk to Wes, oblivious to the direction they were heading. “I may be old, but I have a good sense for people. I can tell if they’re special or not. And if I find your girl lacking in any way, I want you to cease coming into my yard and taking my flowers. Understand?”

Wes could only nod, his heart pounding in his chest as they got closer to their destination.

Wes entered the cemetery, a familiar path leading him to the graves of his wife and daughter. He knelt by Dawn's headstone first, placing some of the flowers from the garden at her grave. He could sense the old man standing behind him, quietly taking in the truth of Wes’s reality.

"I wish you were here," he whispered softly, his voice filled with longing. "I miss you more than ever. I can’t… I don’t… I don’t know what to do anymore."

Tears welled up in Wes's eyes as he traced the letters of his wife’s name with a trembling finger. The pain of her absence still felt raw and unyielding, a constant ache in his heart that refused to fade.

As Wes knelt by Dawn's grave, lost in his grief and the unbearable sorrow that came with each visit, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. Startled, he turned to see the old man standing beside him, his eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and compassion.

"I'm sorry for your loss, son," the old man said softly. "I had a wife once, many years ago. I know the pain that comes with losing the one you love."

Wes looked at the old man, seeing a glimmer of shared pain in the man's eyes.

"I... I didn't mean to take your flowers," Wes stammered, feeling guilt wash over him. "I just... I wanted to bring something beautiful to their graves. Something to remember them by."

The old man glanced down at Wes, his brow furrowed. “There’s another grave?” he asked quietly.

Wes nodded, and with a sigh, he got up and moved over to his daughter’s grave. He gently placed the rest of the flowers in front of the stone, his shoulders sagging as he said, “I…I lost my little girl too. Her…her name was Hope.”

Wes reached out and touched his daughter’s headstone, closing his eyes and bowing his head.

“Daddy misses you so much,” he murmured, his voice quivering as he fought to stay in control of his emotions. “I hope you and Mommy are having lots of fun together, my sweet girl. One day, I know I’ll get to see you both again. I’ll get to hold you in my arms, and we’ll have so many wonderful adventures together. Until then, never forget how much Daddy loves you, Hope.”

His voice cracked, and his shoulders shook as he began to cry. The old man carefully lowered himself down next to Wes, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder as the younger man wept. He didn’t say anything; he just sat there with Wes, letting him grieve for his lost wife and daughter. The old man knew that sometimes all one needed was a presence, a silent understanding that transcended words.

After a while, when Wes's sobs had quieted to sniffles, the old man spoke in a voice that carried a hint of wisdom that could only come with age. "I understand now why you take my flowers. You only wish to bring beauty to their resting place. To honor their memory with something colorful and vibrant." He paused, as if contemplating his next words carefully. "You’re a good man. Your love for them is evident in every blossom you offer."

Wes looked up at the old man through tear-filled eyes, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over him for this unexpected companionship.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion. “That means a lot to me.”

The old man patted Wes’s shoulder and gave him a small smile. “Do you want to talk about them? Sometimes talking can help. And I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

Wes wiped his eyes and nodded. “I… Dawn was… She was the light of my life. I… I never thought I’d get the chance to…to have a family. After what I’d done…in my past, I thought I’d be alone for… for however long I had left. But Dawn, she swept in like a hurricane and showed me what real love looked like. She came into my life at one of my lowest points, and she gave me hope…literally.” He let out a watery chuckle. “Dawn and I got married ten months after we started dating. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. And then, when we found out she was pregnant with Hope, well… I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. I thought my life was finally complete. And it was. For a time. We had… we had five years together, Dawn and I did. And those five years were amazing. I just… I just wish we’d had more. I wish I could have seen my little girl grow up. I wish I could have walked her down the aisle one day. I wish…”

Wes began to sob again. “They’ve been gone for almost a year now, but it…it’s not getting any easier.”

The old man listened quietly to Wes's words, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He understood the profound loss and the longing for what could have been. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, offering it to Wes. "Let it out, son. It's okay to grieve. Your love for them shines through in every tear."

Wes accepted the handkerchief gratefully, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose. The old man waited patiently, giving him the space to compose himself before speaking again.

"I lost my wife to illness many years ago," the old man began softly. "We never had children of our own, but she was my world. Losing her was like losing a part of myself that I could never regain. I know the ache that sits in your chest. The emptiness that never seems to fade."

There was a moment of shared silence between them, the only sound the rustling of the leaves as a soft breeze blew through the trees. Wes closed his eyes, his heart aching but also feeling lighter somehow. The old man’s words resonated with Wes, touching something deep within his soul.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the cemetery, Wes found himself opening up to this stranger in a way he hadn’t with anyone else since his wife and daughter passed away.

“I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault,” Wes confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should have gone with them that day. They were going out for ice cream. Hope was so excited. But I decided to stay home and…” Wes trailed off, knowing it didn’t matter why he’d chosen not to go, just that he hadn’t. “I should have been able to save them.”

The old man placed a comforting hand on Wes’s shoulder, a silent gesture of understanding and compassion. “Sometimes, son, there are forces at play that are beyond our control. You loved them. You cherished them. And that’s all anyone can ever ask for.”

Wes looked at the old man, his eyes searching for some semblance of peace. “Do you ever feel like you can’t go on?” he asked, his voice tinged with sadness.

The old man nodded. “There were many times when I felt like ending things. When I thought I should let my sorrow consume me. Then I’d be with my wife again. But I knew she wouldn’t want me to stop living just because she was gone. And so I persevered, even though it was difficult. There were days I refused to get out of bed. Days where I didn’t eat. The memory of my wife is what kept me going, though.”

Wes sighed and gazed up at the sky, noticing the pink and orange hues as the sun dipped lower. He wondered if Dawn and Hope were up there somewhere, looking down at him.

“I like to think they’re watching over me,” Wes said softly. “That they’re together, happy and at peace.”

The old man nodded in understanding, a gentle smile on his weathered face. “I believe they are. Love transcends even death. It binds us to those we’ve lost, connecting us with a thread that can never be broken.”

As dusk settled over the cemetery, casting long shadows across the gravestones, Wes felt a sense of calm wash over him. For the first time since his wife and daughter’s tragic accident, he didn’t feel completely alone. The old man’s presence was a balm to his grieving heart, a reminder that there was still kindness and compassion in the world.

Wes closed his eyes again, feeling the cool breeze ruffling his hair. It brought a small smile to his face, his mind conjuring up an image of his wife and daughter standing next to him, holding his hands and letting him know they were okay.

“Thank you for listening,” Wes said gratefully, his voice filled with emotion. “I needed this today more than you’ll ever know.”

He opened his eyes and looked over at the old man, only to see an empty space where the man had just been. The cemetery was now quiet, the only sounds the soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. Wes blinked in surprise, wondering if he had imagined the old man's presence. But as he scanned the cemetery, he noticed something on the ground where the man had been sitting. It was a single flower—a moonflower with delicate white petals that seemed to glow in the fading light.

Wes picked up the flower, a sense of peace washing over him as he held it in his hand. He felt a connection to the old man, a silent understanding that went beyond words. Perhaps the old man had been a guardian angel sent to offer him solace in his time of need.

As Wes stood there, surrounded by memories of his wife and daughter, he whispered a heartfelt thank you to the universe for sending him such a beautiful and unexpected gift.

With a deep breath, Wes turned back to the gravestones where his family lay at rest. He laid the moonflower between the two graves, tears welling in his eyes once more. He stood there gazing down at them for a moment, feeling a sudden warmth bloom in his chest. He knew then that he would keep living. For them.

The last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon. Wes knew that he would always carry his wife and daughter with him. And though the pain of their loss would never fully leave him, he knew, with time, he would learn to live with it.

As Wes turned and made his way out of the cemetery, the moonflower seemed to glow brighter between the two graves, a symbol of the eternal connection he shared with his beloved family.

[a-little-specificity]

Bang bang and dark room

for @wolfstarmicrofic

content warning: mentions of death, thoughts of suicide

Remus wants to die. Honestly, can't believe he's still alive, james, lily, peter, very much not. How is it that he's the one who made it to the now, the after? He feels the least worthy of such a prize. Especially now, curled up in the corner of the bed, everything still smelling of him, the sheets still twisted in such a way that Remus knows that the last time he slept here it was uneasy, plagued with nightmares, perhaps with guilt.

The room is dark, but despite having been gone for two moons, Remus can tell it's largely how he left it. His books still stacked high in haphazard piles, dingy jumpers shoved into the wardrobe, loose threads erupting from the sleeve edges. A record is still sitting on their turntable, needle down, as if it just finished playing.

Remus closes his eyes, unable to bear witness to this space, this flat - it feels traitorous. Blemished. He doesn't think he will be able to bear staying here, but he has nowhere else to go.

Behind his lids, Remus doesn't find the escape into darkness he was hoping for. Instead, he's plagued with explosions of light, colorful eruptions that are mirror images of the sight he stumbled into just a few hours prior. He finally had the strength to apparate into the public apparition zone in Diagon Alley, only to be immediately overwhelmed by the onslaught there. Streets full, cheering, drinking, dancing, wands raising to the sky periodically in celebration, colorful sparks streaking across the sky, bang bang. He could feel it reverberating in his chest. Can still feel it now.

Remus, dirty, bleeding from the pesky cut above his eye that keeps breaking open despite his muggle and magical remedies, two weeks out from the last moon but having just gotten out from his deep cover, looks around in horror. Hands shaking, he picks up a discarded Daily Prophet in the road, and promptly retches onto the cobblestones.

It is November 1st, and Remus wants to die.

He hopes that his next moon will be the one that finally gets him, the one he won't wake up from. Even now, he can feel anger, the hatred, the revulsion starting to simmer in the deepest bits of his bones and he knows that the next moon, without his pack, any pack, he will turn on himself. He thinks it might be what he deserves, for being so blind, so foolish, for somehow not seeing this coming, for not being able to protect them.

He opens his eyes to the ceiling, stares at the stars they charmed to appear on the ceiling, feels the bile rise in his throat. Remus closes his eyes again.

Bang, bang.

Cross-posted on A03

[stil-lindigo]

lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)

if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.

--

no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.

I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.

I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.

If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.

[profblahson]

Am sad. Having thoughts. Read more cuz personal and long.

Wanted to watch PiB again because it makes me happy. And the entire time I was having Thoughts again.

I know it's nothing new, but like,

Just, something about the idea of Death wanting you to live means so much to me. Again. I keep hitting these walls where I just want to Not Be. and that thought scares me.

But like, maybe it's that fear that can keep me going, too. Is it the fear of Death? Or the fear of the thoughts? I don't actually know. Death is inevitable, so I need to do what I can to enjoy things. It's difficult to enjoy so much right now, the world being the way it is, personal things aside.

I feel like I've been spinning my wheels lately. I feel like there's no end to what I'm currently doing, and it frustrates and saddens me. My goals seem so far away, because I don't feel like I have the energy to give them the time that I want to be able to.

And that's what really makes me want to Not Be anymore. The other day, all I wanted was to just...stop existing. And if you told me you had a special button that made me stop existing, painlessly, and quickly, I would have taken that. No question.

But an early Death is not the answer. As scary and painful as the world is and seems to be right now, me living is important, and there's value in that. (Helps that there’s a cutie I can see telling me that lmao)

And these thoughts don't stop with me. You reading this have value, too. And make the world brighter and more special for being in it. Share yourself with others. I'll work to do the same. But we have to be around in order to do that. Share the world with me, yeah?

[fonkeloog]

cw: mental health issues. Check the tags.

6 years on

I'm still here

And I still fear, the dark of the night

When my throat goes all tight.

And all I can do is lay down and breathe,

While I think about how I used to bleed.

.

So while I lay here and cry

I watch as time slowly passes by.

And the night turns into another day

Because I'm alive, and that's how I want to stay.

.

It has officially been 6 years today,

And I think, that I might turn out okay.

[yeehawpim]

sometimes caring feels like a contradiction but let's wake up tomorrow to unread messages together

[janellefeng]

Some behind the scenes work for my thesis film.

In the beginning, I was frustrated with the storyboard, so I drew a comic instead to plan out the film.

[wild0moon]

someone pls teach him proper trigger discipline

[miauta]

[HAPPY END] Chapter 3 - Page 8

Hot take - Maxo had one of the worst endings

He was in such dark place and he needed help

Time to give him that help

[sen-ya]

OOF so this is one I very roughly blocked out after reading 1081 and always meant to finish, then when I went into the file to finish it it corrupted. So it'll stay like this, transcript's under the cut and I assume it's particularly needed for this one.

[pg1] panel 1: Law: This life is a cruel joke! Why can't something just fucking kill me already?!

panel 2: Luffy: Torao -- Law: Don't fucking touch me Straw Hat!!

panel 3: Law: What would you know about loss?!

panel 4: Zoro: Hey, watch it!

panel 5: Law: Torao --

panel 6: Law: I was there when your brother died!

[pg2] panel 7: Luffy: Torao, please. Law: That's your body count, Strawhat! Luffy: Just come back -- Law: People flock to you, your family returns from the dead! Luffy: Listen to me --

panel 8: Law: While my family sinks to the bottom of the ocean!

panel 9: Law: Why aren't I with them?! Luffy: Because you're meant to live, Torao!

panel 10: Law: But I don't want to!!! I never asked to survive!!!

[pg3] panel 11: Law: It's cruel, Lu-ya. Cruel, and cold, and empty!

panel 12: Law: Please don't make me keep living. I'm past this life. I'm tired. I'm tired. Luffy: Torao Law: I'm so tired.

panel 13: Law: I know you want me to be alive. But can't I be selfish, Lu-ya? Can't I just rest? Luffy: Not like this.

panel 14: Luffy: I'm even more selfish than you. I won't grant you that peace. Law: sob

[pg4] panel 15: Luffy: We're gonna get your crew back. Franky will build you a new ship. Law: I don't want to. hic. Luffy: I don't care. Law: Lu-ya, let me go. Luffy: No.

panel 16: Luffy: Just go to sleep for now. That's rest you can have.

panel 17: Law: You can't tell me what to do.

panel 18: Luffy: There you go. That's the spirit.

[naffeclipse]

Randomly remembered my time loop au :) and how you get killed by the DCA for the first time in the time loops, and to you, it's no big deal. It's fine. You literally came back so it's not a big deal. Right? Wrong.

You try to go to the pizzaplex to start the (same) day but you discover that you can't get through the front doors despite buying a ticket. The staff bot dryly informs you that you have been registered as a dangerous individual who is not permitted to enter the pizzaplex, which is new, to say the least. You think there's a mistake.

You try again the next day. You're still barred from entering but have nothing but a day free of consequences to do whatever you please, so you break in. Before you reach the daycare, security bots catch you.

You shout at the DCA. Sun can hear you. You know he can but his back stays to you as he watches children color with their little crayons and you briefly remember Moon's hands closing in on your throat with the strange violet glow of his eyes being the last thing you saw—but you're fine. Can't he see that you're fine? You're not dead! You can't stay dead! Why is he doing this to you? He didn't forget you. No, you refuse to consider it because if he didn't know you, he would be staring at the crazy person trying to break into the daycare, but he doesn't. He doesn't meet your eyes.

The next day (again), you find your breaking and entering point is now crawling in security bots. You know he knows. Why is he keeping you away? A spark of anger takes hold and you ignite. He is all you have. He can't make you stay away. You look straight at one of the security cameras. This is a challenge now. You tell him you have nothing but time, baby, and you'll see him again and make him see you rosy cheek and breathing.

You've died before. You've had accidents in the time loop before, you've had reckless, impulse decisions that ended with you mangled, and you've even had a few times where you've taken care of yourself because you wanted it to end but the same day starts over and over so it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Nothing mattered until you found him. And he remembered you.

Please, Sun. Don't do this. Don't be scared. You're so alone and afraid and if you don't have him, if you don't have Moon, you have nothing. You still feel his cold digits closing in around your throat but you're more terrified of going back to the days when you experienced it all alone. You'll come back tomorrow (the same day again). Please.

You wake up. It's the same day. It will always be, you fear. You get to the pizzaplex and somehow, you're allowed inside. You're anxious, rushing to the daycare, immune to the strange looks parents give you because it doesn't matter, they will not remember this moment or you. But someone will. You reach the castle doors and push them open and he's there. His head is low and his hands are held behind his back like they're weapons, like they're ropes for hanging, but you fling yourself at him. You wrap your arms around his skinny torso and press your cheek against his chassis and breathe again for the first time in days (the same day, over and over). You tell him in a wet, fierce voice to never do that again.

He tells you that it's not safe. His hands hover over your shoulder blades, his off-yellow digits curling in apprehension, afraid to even hold you. What if the time loop ends and they come back out of the dreadful glitch, and you're in their arms, not breathing? They can't allow that. They won't.

You tell him you would prefer that over enduring the time loops without them—but then he grabs you by the arms. He pries you off him, holding you with taut fingertips digging into your flesh. Is the glitch back? His eyes are pale and the dull gray iris within is sharp like an end. Your heart bobs in your chest. His voice dips into a growling, vicious thing when he tells you to never say that again. You cannot think that or they will ban you forever. They will never see you again. Do you understand?

You almost sob, but you nod, biting your bottom lip. Okay. Just don't stay away from you, okay?

He slowly loosens his hold. Your arms ache but it doesn't matter. He tilts his sun rays and nods. They promise. And he wraps you back in the hug you've been looking for after so many days (every day again and again).

[oobbbear]

What's the purpose of the cloud angel?

How does Dolus feel around it.?

Cloud is one of the Water angel variants! This is the four I currently have (you can read about who Water Angel is here)

The angel changes as Dolus’ view on death changes

All the angel variants are essentially the same they serve the same purpose being the personification of Dolus’ idea of death, the only difference is their appearance and a bit in personality

Water angel is the default one, it is there 90% of the time it represents Dolus’ fear of drowning. It usually like to sit on his shoulder or cling on him in some way. It is cold to touch but as time goes by the temperature becomes comforting

Cloud/Hight is soft and light like a pillow, the least aggressive one too, Dolus like to cuddle with cloud it’s very comforting feels weightless like floating in the sky

Electricity shows up the least, Dolus never thought this is gonna be the end of him he even finds the sensation of being zapped entertaining. It might cross his mind sometimes but It appears as quickly as it disappears like lightning

Fire is just annoying

[sad-leon]

hey look its another Death Wish animatic :D @remedyturtles

Song: Angel Eyes and Basetball by Foot Ox

HI REM IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THEM. SO NORMAL. ABSOLUTELY POSITIVELY NORMAL

[bpddress-updarling]

♡ — oh, romantic double suicide. i want to split a bottle of pills with her and down them in one or two gulps before we clink our bottles of vodka together and chug. i want to hold her in my arms as i start foaming from the mouth, as my body starts spasming and the life leaves me. it would be such a joy to watch her go first. i want to hold her in my arms so she knows she is safe as she seizes into the afterlife, and i join her soon after.

[inklessletter]

The bloody angel.

❤️

The clean version here.

Again, thank you SO MUCH for trusting the process.

Steve's breath is barely a whisper when he confesses to Eddie that he's not scared of death. Eddie knows Steve should be, he's been facing death far too long for a man his age. He locks his fingers together when Eddie whispers back that he is sorry he had to learn to forget that fear.

Steve whispers again that everytime he thought he was going to die, it was saving someone he loved. He values his life, yes. He values his heart more. His heart, a personal home for everyone in it, that he had to build himself, heartbreak after heartbreak. Dying defending his homeland was something he wasn't afraid of. He could never be.

Eddie shows his fascination by keeping his silence.

"And I would do it again, everytime," Steve says, kissing Eddie's hand.

Eddie then could see the deep negative space inside Steve that could only be appreciated when he looked into his eyes for far too long.

A soulless void.

A man in love with death.

[gooeseyleo]

Gooseyleo Prologue Part 8

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