#the passive suicidal ideation is real

[iamnotcrying-iamallergictolife]

Sir Damien: I forgot I was going to kill you because I was so scared you were hurt.

Rilla: I am betraying the most terrifying knight in the known world because I love you.

Lord Arum, Renowned Dumbass™, in denial about every feeling he's ever had: Welp, Guess I'm Gon'na Die At Your Hands.

[asilosmagdalena]

Kendall may not have actually killed himself in the finale, but Jeremy was going to turn the final scene into a suicide attempt, which ultimately didn't play out but you know he was dead inside. But the thing is, although he said "I might die" if he didn't become CEO, he knew that being CEO would still kill him, and that's partially why he tried to keep Roman out of it. Trying to become CEO knowing it would alienate himself from everyone and destroy him was the real suicide attempt.

The end of every season is the same for Kendall. I genuinely think the driving while high was a suicide attempt that ended in the worst possible way. Condemning Logan at the end of season 2 was a suicide attempt, effectively cutting him off from his family and father who had leverage over him. Falling asleep in the pool was a suicide attempt and we all know that. If anything, although on the surface he lost, there's the slightest glimmer of hope for him now.

[caitas-cooing]

I know I've reblogged the Roxas wants to live comic more than once but I feel like if any of the nobodies would be depressed to the point of being suicidal it would be Naminé and that's why she is more eager to rejoin Kairi than Roxas is for Sora

[mysticdragon3md3]

5 Things To Know About Passive Suicidal Ideation by Dr. Scott Eilers

[theethlezprincez]

not even praying to god will let me die lol

(i stopped praying since i was a kid)

[ilynpilled]

when reading anything i say about this series i think u all should just keep in mind that i love jaime so much im gonna throw up so u can take my takes with a grain of salt with this fact in mind. ill admit this. wont change tho

[variantoutcast]

Having a not so good time.

[yay-depression]

me: none of this will matter in like a year! i don’t need to be taking this super seriously, it’s fine!

also me: what if i just… kill myself over this bc it’s indicative of my whole life’s pattern tho?

[blargh-chicka-honk-honk]

i've been quiet for a while here, and by quiet i mean near nonexistent, and by a while i mean for months. this is because i got a new job. it's full time. full time jobs drain me like nothing else, because that whole 8-8-8 system thats supposed to keep you happy and healthy doesn't work when you spend so much time just generally being mentally ill, so instead of 8 hours work and 8 hours sleep and 8 hours play, i get 10 hours work 2 hours commute 2 hours self-maintenance 4 hours being mentally unwell 1 hour fun and 5 hours sleep. speaking of being mentally unwell. dont read the tags.

[nereidprinc3ss]

i saw a tweet that said "finals week or my final week? stay tuned" and it was so real so without further ado here is sending spencer reid a tweet while he's away on a case during finals week and him freaking out LOL

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

Finals week is always a nightmare--even more so when your own personal dictionary, encyclopedia, thesaurus, and calculator is out of town on a case. Spencer has been as available as one can be while trying to catch a serial killer in a tiny town with spotty service in New Mexico, so you don't expect him to respond to your text for at least a few hours.

Still, you're smiling as you send the screenshot to him. Sending him any sort of 'Internet humor' is a risky business, because he doesn't always get it, but it's part of what you love about him. He's just so earnest, you can't help but take advantage of it sometimes.

To your immense surprise, he reads it almost immediately. You watch the typing bubble pop up and then disappear, and-- uh oh. His contact photo fills your screen as he calls you.

"Spencer, it was a joke," you laugh, not even bothering to ask what he's calling about.

"I don't think passive suicidal ideation is funny," he says matter-of-factly.

"Oh my god, I'm not actually about to kill myself, Reid."

"Oh, so you're calling me Reid now?" He huffs, obviously exasperated. You laugh at his hushed tone. He probably stepped out of a room at some police station to call you.

"I have to keep you in line somehow," you defend, rolling over onto your back.

"Goodbye."

"No, wait!" you whine. "I'm sorry. Don't go."

You're sure your immediate flip in demeanor is funny to him. His voice suggests a hint of fond amusement when he responds, making you miss him even more.

"I really do have to go. I just wanted to make sure you're okay. You are okay, right?"

"I'll live," you sigh, wishing you could keep him on the line longer.

"That's what I like to hear," he says. "I love you. I'm proud of you."

"Love you too."

"I'll call you later."

"Bye." The line goes dead. You flop your phone hand down on the mattress and stare at your laptop with disdain, the blank word document and the stupid blinking cursor mocking you. But still, you feel slightly lighter after speaking with your boyfriend. Maybe it won't be your final week, after all.

[adverbally]

Conversations with Dead People

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Ghosts” | wc: 1,159 | rated: T | cw: past major character death, brief passive suicidal ideation | tags: grief, not a fix-it, Eddie is Dead | title from the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode that inspired this fic (season 7, episode 7)

This takes place in an AU where Steve and Eddie have been together since shortly after the events of season 3. The events of season 4 happen as they do in canon.

———

He’s not really a ghost, Eleven had explained. It’s more like residual psychic energy that Eddie left behind when he died. An echo, lingering, a telepathic reverberation of his soul or brain waves or whatever made him Eddie. Him, but not. It’s a distinction that Steve can’t seem to make, not when he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor of his living room in front of El, waiting for her to make contact.

“Eddie?” Steve asks tentatively. “Are you there?”

El is quiet behind her blindfold for a moment. “He says, ‘Hey, Stevie.’”

He doesn’t know what he was expecting but shock forces a laugh out of him, too loud and a little wet. “Hey, Eds.” He hasn’t said those words in months but it still feels natural, like a reflex. “I miss you.”

“He misses you too. He sounds sad but he’s smiling,” El reports matter of factly.

“You can see him?” Somehow this might be the thing that breaks Steve, the longing and the fear of seeing him again twisting in his gut. “Is he– does he look–”

“He looks normal. Not hurt. But he says you look like shit.”

Eddie can see him, Eddie is okay, Eddie is trying to joke around to make him feel better, Eddie is so close but out of reach and… Steve’s face crumples.

He can’t do this. Why is he doing this? Hope and despair are warring in a sticky lump in his throat, choking him until he can’t speak. He’s wasting his chance to talk to Eddie again. He doesn’t want to talk to him, he wants to feel him, cold hands and strong arms and sharp teeth and soft lips. He wants him back. He wants to be with him.

“‘Don’t cry, baby.’” The words are soft and clunky coming from El’s mouth but Steve knows exactly how Eddie must sound on the other side.

The sob he was suppressing rips its way out of him. “I miss you,” he says again, stupidly, but he can’t think of anything else. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes like they can stem the flood of tears now that they have begun. “I miss you so much.”

The static on the radio is the only response for long seconds before El says, “He’s crying now. He says he’s sorry. Not sorry he did it but sorry it turned out like this.”

Steve shakes his head. Any real anger he felt toward Eddie had been short lived, but the reminder stings. “You had to be a hero, huh?”

“‘It was worth it to keep you safe.’”

He tries not to think too hard about how much he wishes he could’ve switched places with Eddie. Eddie wouldn’t have let him, of course, stubborn as he is. Was. Is? Steve clears his throat before asking, “Are you… okay?”

It’s a stupid question. How can Eddie be okay? What could Steve do about it anyway? Thankfully Eddie seems to understand what he was trying to ask.

“‘I’m still dead, sweetheart,’” Eddie-El says, almost apologetically. “‘But I’m okay. I’m not in pain, I’m safe. It’s not like being in the Upside Down. It’s peaceful.’”

“Okay. That’s good,” Steve says, almost to himself.

El tilts her head like she’s listening. “He says he watches out for you.”

God, what must Eddie have seen over the past three months? How many nights had Steve sobbed himself to sleep, clutching Eddie’s pillow and trying to memorize its fading scent? How often had Steve put on a brave face to comfort Dustin and reassure him that Eddie’s death wasn’t his fault? How many times had Steve gone to visit Wayne, both of them sitting at the kitchen table while they cried into their cups of coffee and silently mourned the way that the trailer seemed so damn empty without Eddie there to fill it?

“‘Are you okay?’” El asks on Eddie’s behalf.

“We’re just trying to keep it together. It’s…” Steve wipes his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie. It was Eddie’s hoodie, actually, but Steve kept stealing it. It’s soft and it smells good! You’re never getting it back! he had laughed. Now it smells more like Steve than Eddie and he couldn’t give it back even if he wanted to. “It’s really fucking hard without you.”

“‘You’re always looking out for everyone else. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself?’” The inflection of it sounds like goodbye, like all those mornings of Eddie gearing up to head back to the trailer before Wayne noticed, like Steve begging for just one more kiss before Eddie left.

But there’s something final in it this time that makes panic surge in Steve’s chest.

“Nonono, don’t go, you can’t– you just got here, you can’t just leave,” he babbles, wishing Eddie had a physical presence he could hold on to. The logical part of Steve’s mind knew that this was only temporary, that any echo will eventually fade, but he hadn’t realized it would be so soon.

“‘I wish I could stay.’” El sounds so sad when she speaks for him.

Steve presses his hands to his mouth, tries to hold in the terrible sound of his grief until Eddie isn’t there to hear it anymore. He takes a deep breath and tries to keep his voice level despite the tears streaming down his face. “Will I see you again?”

“‘Hopefully not for a long, long time.’”

He thinks of the past three months, thinks of going through that three more times to make a year, then all of that over and over for as many years as he has left… It sounds like pure torture.

“‘Promise me,’” Eddie-El insists.

“I promise.” Steve’s voice breaks, but he tries to crack a smile when he remembers Eddie can see him. “Stay out of trouble?”

Even before El says, “He laughed at that,” Steve is picturing Eddie’s head tossed back with the force of his guffaw, his dark eyes glimmering with amusement. It settles something in him.

“I love you,” Steve says, snotty and shaky but as solemn as a wedding vow.

The radio stutters then, sounding like it’s flipping through frequencies on its own. When the jumble of static and indistinct speech stops, Steve hears Eddie’s voice, loud and clear, for the first time since March.

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” he announces. Soft and warm like spending a lazy morning in bed. Bright and smiley like adoring someone in a way that can’t be hidden. Exhilarated and awed like collapsing together in a sweaty, spent heap. Bittersweet like a kiss goodnight, like a little white lie, like a promise that has to be broken.

Steve feels that voice surrounding him, crashing over and through him. He shuts his eyes and hugs himself, tries to hold himself together, until the radio shuts itself off.

Then, in the echoing silence of his living room, Steve lets himself fall to pieces.

[rishiguro]

DESOLATION - S. RINTAROU

a/n: i’m projecting and got carried away

warnings: self-deprecating thoughts, self-loathing and slight allusions to passive suicidal ideation (just to be safe, i don’t know if that’s actually the case). 2.3k of hurt/comfort (though i feel like it’s mostly hurt)

slamming the door shut behind you, you let out a sigh, leaning your body against the wood. you closed your eyes, fists clenching on your sides.

nothing felt right anymore. the weeks passed by in an instant and yet every day seemed to be endless and monotonous. you woke up, did your work, came home and repeated that cycle the next day and the day after that.

you forgot how it was to wake up excited for the day and content with the path you were taking. how long has it been? now it was just a drag, a weight on your shoulders that kept pressing you down.

you couldn’t tell when or even how this started. everything was fine after all, wasn’t it? there was no trigger that caused all of this, no, and yet it would feel wrong to say that there was no reason in particular.

you just knew that you wanted it to be over.

taking your shoes off with a low hanging head, you sat down on the floor, trying to take deep breaths and calm yourself down.

it was okay, wasn’t it? you were finally home, you could recharge and just shut yourself off from the world. just let go of everything for a couple of hours before you would be thrown back into real life.

all you needed was a break.

“baby?” suna’s voice came from the living room, faint as it reached your ears. “you alright?”

you could hear his footsteps as he came closer to the hall, quickly jumping to your feet before he managed to poke his head out of the doorway.

you felt your chest getting warm as a smile plastered itself on your partner’s face as soon as he saw you.

you affirmed as you turned your back to him, slowly taking off your jacket and putting it away. you barely even paid attention to the questions he was asking you, simply answering them with only two to three words before diverting the attention back to him and asking him about his day.

suna didn’t have to be a genius to notice that something was off. you hadn’t seen how his smile was immediately wiped from his face as soon as you turned around after seeing him, shifting into a confused frown. he saw how you not just hung your jacket, but also opted to sort the hallway closet, acting like you were actually interested in the order of everything inside of it in a pathetic attempt to get him to go away.

but he wasn’t having any of it.

you didn’t notice how suna went quiet, studying your form and taking notice of your sluggish state.

he wasn’t an idiot. he had noticed how you got quieter with every passing day, losing more and more energy until you barely did anything outside of going to work. and he hated how you put on a smile whenever you thought he was looking, only to have it wiped away as soon as you turned around. and when he did approach you, you only shrugged him off, pinning your state on a stressful day at work or a bad night’s sleep.

“what’s wrong?” he finally asked, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe.

“long day,” you only claimed “i’m gonna go wash up” immediately after you practically ran away, locking the bathroom door behind you and releasing your breath.

you thoughts raced as you washed your hands under the cold water. was it really fair to act this way? you practically dismissed your boyfriend, not even paying attention to anything he was saying just because you didn’t feel your best. and this wasn’t just a one time thing either, no, it happened countless times already, to the point of you not even remembering the last time you had an actual conversation with him that lasted longer than five minutes.

you were really terrible, huh?

you didn’t want to think like this, you knew that this spiral would just sent you down further with no way to escape. you could talk, communicate, somehow get your feelings across, apologize for being such a horrible partner, just anything. you just needed to get your mouth to open.

running the freezing water on your wrists to calm yourself you stared down at your bare skin.

you had to get out there and talk. you had to reach out. suna wasn’t going to turn you away or laugh at you, he’d be there for you just like he always was. he would probably scold you if he knew about the doubts you were having. scratch that, he most likely already knew, having spend so much time by your side, but decided to give you your space until you were ready to come to him, knowing how you could get when people pressured you.

he was so considerate. and you just stomped on that and tore him down.

you stood there for who knows how long, your wrists have gone numb from the water, when you finally decided to turn off the sink, drying your hands and wrists.

meanwhile suna sat on the couch in the living room, his leg bouncing as he stared on his phone, mind drifting back to you. you were so absent, so tired that it started to hurt him. you suffered on your own, shutting everyone out. maybe you didn’t even have the energy to reach out to him and here he sat, perfectly aware of your state of mind with no idea how to help or just make it a little bit easier on you.

his head shot up as he heard the door to the bathroom open, gaze softening as he saw you stepping out of it, feet dragging over the floor as you approached him.

the middle blocker didn’t take his eyes off of you for a second when you came to a halt in front of him, playing with your fingers in front of you.

you took a deep breath as you began to speak, head still hanging low, not wanting to look into his face. “please hug me,” you mumbled, already feeling how your throat closed in, “i really need a hug right now”

he didn’t even waste a second to get up and step closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and pushing you into his body. “always”

and so you stood there, suna holding you secure in his arms, the both of you having your eyes closed and taking in each other’s warmth.

“i’m sorry,” you finally broke, fist clenching the fabric of your boyfriend’s hand, “i’m being such a shitty partner right now and you don’t deserve this”

“it’s okay,” he replied, hands moving from the middle of your back to your waist, drawing small shapes.

you shook your head, still not daring to look at him. “no, it’s not,” you denied, “i have no reason to just waltz in here every day with my shitty mood and ruin your day because of whatever the hell is going on, that’s not fair. and to make it even worse, i’m not even talking to you about it, it’s just like i’m punishing you for something that isn’t even your fault” you rambled, only coming to a stop to take a breath. opening your eyes, you opted to stare at the fabric draped over his chest, face contorted into a pained expression. “i don’t even know what i’m doing anymore,” you whispered through your tight throat, feeling the first tears welling up in your eyes so you immediately shut them, not wanting to feel them pour over your cheeks.

“hey, take a deep breath, alright? we’re okay, i promise” suna was quick to reassure you, hands squeezing the sides of your waist in an attempt to comfort you. he would be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked. he never imagined you to feel so guilty for it, beating yourself up over the fact that you weren’t doing good mentally not for yourself but on his behalf. mentally he scoffed, cursing himself out for not realizing sooner just how long he let this drag along. but he knew that all he should do right now is be there for you and ease your mind, not potentially making everything worse for you. “and don’t you worry about ‘ruining my day’ or something like this, because you’re not, i don’t know who told you this”

he softly petted your head, mumbling some short phrases of affirmation with your arms still tight around him.

“i want to be better, i will be, i promise” your voice was all choked up, your eyes watering behind your eyelids. “i’m sorry i’m not good yet, i’m sorry”

“shhh” the young man shushed you, pressing you closer to him and softly swaying your bodies back and forth. “you’re good, you’re a good person”

you shook your head violently and even though your mind screamed at you to let him go and push him away, you only grabbed him tighter. “i’m not, i’m terrible, i’m horrible and nothing i do is changing that”

“that’s not true,” suna spoke softly, carefully, almost like you were about to run away. he didn’t force you to look at him, looking to the side himself as he spoke, but occasionally glancing at you, only to find you still staring at his shirt concentrated. “you’ve grown so much already and you’re such a good and kind person,” he claimed, a fond smile on his lips. you could hear that he truly believed what he said and while you didn’t exactly want to take his words to heart, you allowed yourself to succumb to them, heart warming at the thought of him genuinely thinking that you weren’t this horrible person you saw yourself as. “i know you can’t believe me, i know, but i promise it’s true”

after a few moments of silence he slightly pulled away to look at you again, one hand traveling to face, a thumb brushing over your wet cheek. “you trust me, right?” you nodded against him. your heart was beating rapidly, to the point of you being afraid that he could hear it.

your boyfriend smiled again, tilting your head upward. “good. then trust me with this too, okay?”

if he was shocked to see the tears running on your cheek quietly, he didn’t let you notice, instead wiping them away carefully.

“okay,” you whispered, “i’ll do my best”

suna smiled softly, kissing your forehead. “i know you will and you’ll do great”

“do you want to talk?” he asked after a couple minutes of you sobbing into him, but not before he couldn’t feel your body calming down in his arms.

you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, ashamed to face him with what you were about to say. you didn’t want to look at him, you didn’t want to see whatever expression he might have on his face. pity? sadness? or even anger?

“i don’t want to be strong anymore,” you finally confessed.

strong. suna always knew you were strong — a strong person, able to hold so much pain inside of them and not cracking underneath it all. willing to burden yourself with so much, all to see the people you cared for happy, content. strong and carrying so much weight on your shoulders and yet you never wanted to give any of it away, opting to just swallow it down and keep going.

until you couldn’t anymore.

“don’t be” and while others saying this may sound almost condescending, thinking that this was the simplest thing in the world, he somehow made these two words sound so understanding, letting you believe that maybe it was alright for you to want it. “it’s okay”

“i can’t anymore,” you continued, eyes clenched shut as more and more tears found their way out of your eyes, staining not just your cheeks, but also your lover’s shirt.

“i know”

“what can i do?” you asked him, fully knowing that he didn’t have an answer to this question. you felt bad for asking this, bad for dumping all of these thoughts on him, but you knew that he wouldn’t hold this against you. suna wasn’t a particularly complicated or deceiving person — quite the opposite. he was here with you because he cared. and he was willing to deal with whatever it was that was weighing you down. “i don’t want to feel like this”

you continued to sob into him, a warm hand finding it’s way onto your back and drawing circles on it to get you to breathe. “i don’t want to do this anymore”

“i don’t know what to do,” you continued helplessly, mind racing as you poured your entire heart out, “i just want to let go”

and suna pulled you close to him again, whispering softly. “i got you”

“i’m scared,” you admitted, “i’m so scared, rin”

scared of your feelings, scared of change and yet scared of everything remaining the same. scared of not doing well and scared of failing and at the same time scared of losing everything and everyone that was dear to you because you wouldn’t change.

“i know. i’m here,” he didn’t waste a second to reassure you again, desperate to help you understand that no matter what, he loved you and wanted to do everything for you. “i’m here, i promise”

“please help me” suna’s heart broke as you whimpered in his arms, so terrified and vulnerable, exposing just how lost you felt. “make this go away please”

“i got you” he felt his throat drying after he pressed yet another long kiss on your forehead, desperate to convey his deep feelings for you that he just couldn’t voice out loud. “i promise”

“you’re not alone”

reblog to get cuddles from suna

[moonlit-dreamers]

hot take but i dont think sun is suicidal

i dont think hes the one with the worst mental health in this show either

besides eclipse (bc thats obvious), id say solar has the worst mental health

hes already killed 2 ppl (didnt want to kill either of them and one was on accident), is insecure about his own identity (asked computer if hes like the other eclipses, and i also bet montys... "teasing" didnt help), has no hobbies of his own, refuses to actually acknowledge his own issues, doesnt communicate to ppl and tries to "not be a bother" to others, never does anything for himself and only ever does when someone tells him to, and probably more.

but i'll analyze solar and his shit mental health later; i wanna ramble about sun

i dont think sun has ever been actively suicidal, mainly passive. in case ur wondering wut the difference is:

being passively suicidal is having thoughts and "wishes" but never actually planning to do anything. a lot of ppl will think "i wish i was dead" when in reality wut they need is a break and they have no real desire to die (this is a common thought process to have when ur burnt out or generally in a mental rut)

being actively suicidal is actually planning to do something and seeking out ways to harm urself with the intent of being severely injured or dying. this is an immediate emergency

sun never went out in search of ways to die. he never planned out ways he could kill himself. the time we heard him say "i wish i was dead" was right after he hallucinated bloodmoon and old moon taunting him. he was tired and he needed a fucking break, so he expressed that through saying "i wish i was dead". now u might be thinking "but birdcage, he did go out and do risky things knowing he might die" yes, that is true. but that does not mean that dying was his intention. he went out and did dangerous things bc he wanted to help, not die.

but if we return to the current moment; he is absolutely not suicidal. his mental health is deteriorating, yes. but from wut i can tell he hasnt shown any signs of suicidal ideation. for a while sun said he had pretty stable mental health. it was only until eclipse came back did his health really start to deteriorate again. then if u add on to how hes constantly being pushed to the side and ignored by his own family (im more than mildly frustrated by that) that is absolutely a disaster brewing under the surface. but does that mean hes currently, at the very least passively, suicidal? no. probably not. at least, from wut we can tell there isnt much to back up the idea that he is.

wut sun needs is to be acknowledged and let in on the happenings of the family instead of being ignored. he also needs to learn how to communicate better bc the severe lack of it is wuts going to cause the downfall of everyone in the show

[juunobox]

── it means everything. (pinocchio x gn! reader)

summary: reader is a writer, feeling sad about the state of krat and their hobby. mulling in their own thoughts, P returns and comforts reader. p is sweet and supportive<3 fluffy moments warnings: very subtly implied passive suicide ideation, mc feeling hopeless and crying a little note: first time writing p x reader. sorry if it isnt the best i genuinely just needed to feed myself bcs there is an urgent lack of p x reader out there. i tried to make this cute-

You stretch your upper torso in your seat, staring at the pile of papers in front of you. You've just finished writing the second chapter of your book, as well as rewriting the prologue—an effort that consumed your entire day. You glanced at the nearby clock, checking the time. You thought about your puppet partner Pinocchio, it's about time he'd return from a day of stalking. It's getting late at night, the usual time he would come back.

In the meantime- you reach for your cup of tea, sipping it carefully before setting it down on the desk as your gaze drifts to the pile of freshly written papers. Sometimes you wonder why you continue writing your book. Krat is falling apart, after all. It's not the city it once was, the city you had known. What's the meaning?

You were lucky to be saved by Geppetto's puppet amidst the chaos and fortunate not to have contracted the petrification disease. Your near-total lack of self-defense skills makes your survival among the frenzied puppets seem like a miracle. You were hiding beneath a carriage in Elysion Boulevard when P found you and brought you to the refuge known as Hotel Krat, the only safe place left in the decaying city.

As you read through your own writing, paragraph by paragraph, you realize something isn't quite right— the prologue chapter. You think the writing isn't as good as how it was written the first time. You remember losing it while running for your life through Krat, barely managing to stay alive. Maybe that was the cost of being saved by P.

You set the papers aside, feeling an invisible weight settle in your chest. Why do you still write? Why are you still here? You've lost everything—friends, family— all to the petrification disease or the frenzied puppets. Maybe surviving is a curse, to grapple with the guilt of being the only one left.

If Pinocchio hadn’t found you that day, maybe it'd be better off that way. You don't know how much longer you can live like this...

Knock knock.

The soft noise snaps you out of your musing. You quickly run to the door, only to realize tears have been rolling down your cheeks. You hadn't noticed them amidst your thoughts and what-ifs. Quickly wiping them away, you compose yourself. You wouldn't want your puppet partner to see you like this. Despite being a puppet, you treat him as a real boy, even though he's still learning about human emotions. He ventures out daily on errands— navigating the dangerous streets of Krat. While he may not comprehend exhaustion nor fully grasp human feelings just yet, you empathize with his efforts. Despite these differences, you find comfort, sincerity and a sense of belonging in his presence.

You swing the door open, meeting Pinocchio's blue eyes with a forced smile. You try to remain casual, despite the turmoil inside you. "P! You've returned. How was today for you?" you ask, not expecting any verbal response. Pinocchio is a puppet of few words, usually replying with a nod, a shake of his head, or one and two words. Today is no exception, either. He nods with a slight smile, a way of telling you that it was fine. His head soon slightly tilts while pointing his index finger at you, that you interpret as- "What about you?"

"My day was okay. I spent it writing some of my book again," you say. To your surprise, P remains still instead of giving you another nod or smile- now looking at you with what appears to be a small frown.

You rose a brow, "What is it, P?" you ask, not quite understanding his intent. His eyes widen momentarily before he fidgets, struggling to express himself. He points at your eyes, pleading for you to understand. You glance at him, puzzled.

"…My eyes?" you murmur.

P nods almost hesitantly.

"Tired?" he finally speaks, his voice gentle.

"Your eyes… tired?"

You blink slowly, not expecting such a question. Your mind races, searching for a response. The way P's blue eyes implore you only increases your nervousness. "Oh! Yes, must be because I haven't been able to sleep much lately… but don’t worry. I plan on sleeping earlier tonight, though, so don’t you worry!" You laugh lightly, trying to sound casual and lighthearted.

P doesn't appear convinced. He stays motionless, his eyes silently urging you to say more. For a moment, you wonder if he can see through your lie—he's a puppet capable of lying himself, after all.

Before you could say something more, P steps forward and enfolds you in his arms. He pulls you into his embrace. Despite his wooden and steel body, his embrace brings you immense comfort. The weight that has burdened you for weeks—no, months—seems to melt away, at least a little bit of it.

You linger in his embrace for a moment longer before P gently withdraws, yet his grip remains on your shoulders. His expression is filled with genuine concern as he gazes at you.

"You hugged me..? Why?" you ask, feeling a bit self-conscious under his intense scrutiny.

P fidgets, clearly searching for the right words to convey his thoughts. He gestures towards the pile of papers on your desk and then back at you, his eyes brimming with curiosity and hopefulness. "Your writing... important," he says slowly, as if trying out the words to see how they fit.

You blink in surprise. "You think my writing is important?"

He nods. "Yes. It… gives meaning."

A lump forms in your throat as you realize he's trying to tell you that your work, your words, still hold value, even in a crumbling city like Krat. How can he tell? Is your distress so obvious that those around you can easily notice? You feel a little embarrassed at this realization, but P's simple affirmation fills you with a warmth you haven't felt in a long time. Your cheeks warm slightly at his words, and you nod, offering him a gentle smile.

"Thank you, P. That means a lot to me," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly.

P smiles, a rare and genuine expression that lights up his usually stoic face. You know he still struggles to emote, so his smile looks a little awkward, but the effort warms your heart. He gestures towards the pile of papers again and then back at himself, silently asking if he could hear your story.

"You want me… to read it to you?" you ask, a bit taken aback.

He nods again, his eyes bright with anticipation.

"Alright," you say, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's sit over there."

You both move to the small couch in your room. You pick up the papers and sit down, P settling in beside you. The close proximity is comforting, and you feel a sense of calmness wash over you in his presence. As you start reading, P listens intently, his eyes constantly switching from your face to the writing in your hand.

You read aloud, the prologue and chapter one unfolding in the quiet room. P's attention never wavers, and his expressions shift subtly with the spoken narrative. It's endearing to see how engrossed he seems to be at your little story, even though it doesn't feel that much interesting to you. Paragraph by paragraph, the story eventually reaches a tender moment between your characters- a kiss shared under the moonlight. P's eyes lit up with a spark of curiosity flickering in them as you read aloud the scene for him. As you’re about to turn the page, he places a hand on the paper, stopping you.

“Is something the matter, P?” you ask, trying to understand his concern. His index finger points at the word 'kiss' on the paper, looking at you with a curious expression.

"You're asking what a kiss is?" you clarify, trying to make sense of his question. P nods, confirming it.

You pause, taken aback by his curiosity. "A kiss is… well, it's a way to show affection. It's something humans do to express their love and care for each other," you explain, feeling a bit flustered. “And there are various kinds of kisses—romantic and platonic, depending on the context. The kiss shared between my characters here is more like a romantic kiss. It’s shared between lovers, while platonic ones are shared with friends and family…” You speak slowly, hoping he’d understand the explanation.

P nods slowly, processing your words. You can hear his gears ticking a little faster than usual, indicating he's processing all this new information. He seems satisfied with your explanation, treating it with the same seriousness he applies to everything he learns.

Taking his nod as encouragement, you continue reading to him, pausing and slowing down whenever you notice P needing further explanation of certain phrases or sentences. Sometimes, he gently stops you from turning the page if you miss a cue.

As time passes, fatigue catches up with you. Your eyelids grow heavy, and before you know it, you find yourself leaning against P's shoulder, your voice trailing off as sleepiness overtakes you. P notices immediately, glancing down to see you asleep. Gently, he sets the pile of papers aside, ensuring not to disturb you. Leaning back, he gazes down at you sleeping soundly against him while sensing an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest. His gears and springs tick a little faster, a new sensation that he finds oddly pleasant.

P watches you sleep, observing how relaxed you look. His human hand gently caresses your cheek, moving a stray strand of hair away from your face. The puppet leans closer, hesitating as his gaze drifts to your forehead. The memory of your explanation about kisses comes to mind. After a brief pause, he cups your cheek in his hand and finally presses a little kiss to your forehead.

As he pulls away, he could feel his mechanical heart's beat slowing down. He hadn't realized they had been ticking a little faster up until then. The now familiar warmth settles in his chest again as he takes in the sight of you sleeping peacefully against him, not fully understanding the gesture yet but liking the feeling of giving you a tender kiss like so.

The chestnut-haired puppet then wraps his arms around you in a protective embrace, holding you close to him as you sleep. In this quiet moment, he feels like he had gained a deeper understanding of human emotions and the connections that bind people together.

Though Krat may be falling apart, in this small, intimate space, there is still peace and comfort.

For now, that's enough—for both you and P.

[guess-that-ship]

S11 Finals

Two Sides of the Same Coin

cw: major spoilers, suicidal ideation

Heads and Tails are the same person. Heads is the first, having been put in a situation they couldn't bear to be in anymore, and due to divine intervention is placed in a new body to guide Tails, who has been put in the same situation they were in. Tails does not know the real identity of Heads, and Heads intends to keep it that way. Due to their intense self-loathing, Heads passive-agressively lets it out at Tails, teasing him all the time, and yet they are the one person Tails can confide in about their situation, and both bond over it.

Eventually, everything is too much for Tails to bear, and they lash out at everyone, Heads included due to the secrets they've kept from him. The situation being all too familiar, in order to stop Tails from destroying themself like they did before, Heads, while never directly engaging with him, helps from a distance, guiding Tails towards his happy ending. And Heads hates it. It's not fair that fate wanted them to fail just so Tails could do what they couldn't.

When Tails returns, Heads explains everything about what happened to them, and forces Tails to fight them to see who gets to keep this happy ending. They hate Tails because they hate themself, and they hate themself because they hate Tails. But Tails doesn't feel the same way. When he wins, Heads just wants Tails to kill them and be done with it, but Tails refuses. It was thanks to them that Tails was able to get their happy ending, and it wouldn't be right to keep either of them from it. Heads fades away, their job done, but both promise to meet again.

The Moon and Stars

Star and Moon are childhood friends, always by eachothers side. Star is a quiet child, reserved and bookish, while Moon is loud and rough, often picking fights with the other kids. The two are inseparable, balancing eachothers worse tendencies while encouraging their best. During this time, Moon feels herself developing a crush on Star, but keeps it secret. However, as time goes on, circumstance pulls them apart, as Star's parents are killed in an accident and she is forced to leave her home. Now alone, Moon's more reckless tendencies are all she has left.

Life carries on for both of them. Star attunes herself to her magic potential, goes to college, and loses herself in her studies. Moon drops out of school, taking odd jobs and joining in criminal groups to get by. After many years, and by complete coincidence, Moon sees Star on TV one night, and all of those feelings from her childhood come rushing back. Moon drops everything and travels to where Star is, hoping to see her friend again.

When the two finally do reunite, Star is exhausted, both mentally and physically. While the sight of Moon brings her some comfort, the weight of the pressure she set upon herself is threatening to crush her completely. Moon gives her a chance to show her strength, offering to fight her. Moon wins the fight easily, with Star barely able to land a blow. Moon, deep in regret, tries to comfort her, only to find Star clutching a locket Moon had given her in their childhood. Moon, surprised she still had it, shows Star her own, which she had also kept all those years. Finally, the two decide to leave together, allowing themselves to rekindle the love and care they had for each other all those years ago.

[bamfwizard]

nimona somehow feels like the PERFECT transgender allegory. the titular character is a trans youth, scared of the world for hating them, finding refuge in their newfound friend. a friend who was the byproduct if the homophobic and religious system that ended up framing him as a threat and casting him out - and, coincidentally, a gay man. they both become allies in this fight against the system that hunts them down, but problems arise when the mc's new friend buys into the demonization of their past, and a twisted version of their motive.

but what's so interesting to me are the LAYERS of metaphor. gloreth casting nimona out like the religious establishments in the real world betraying trans folks and claiming them as sinners and groomers, the influence of public hate on the future generations and the breaking of the cycle at the end of the movie, the tension between bal and nimona when he asks awkward questions about her identity that reflect confused but supportive friends, the whole "What happens if you don't shift" convo, and ESPECIALLY the hints of passive suicidal ideation in nimona's speech...it kills me. this movie is so wonderful, this is what we mean when we say we want good trans rep.