#tw:suicide | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trans-queen-administrator · 5 months

Text

Ok people seemed to really like the last post I made summarizing an unwritten fleshed out worm fanfic I had, so here's another! This one's an altpower and wait where are you going come back its good I swear.

(tw: suicide)

Taylor triggers with Ingenue's power after an incident involving Sophia (who is removed from the wards and not a part of this fic past this), and outs Sophia as a cape since Ingenue can see powers. She's forced into the wards because she has no ability to defend herself, is immensely powerful, and people will want her dead or on their side since she can out every cape in the city. She genuinely has no practical choice besides the Wards here, so she begrudgingly joins. It's not all bad though! She actually makes friends for the first time in so long :)

Her and Missy hang out a lot, and their powers synergize super well since Taylor can make Vista frighteningly powerful. She warms up to Dennis after some patrols, she can make his power non-touch based too! Dauntless is like a mentor figure, they meet up every day so she can make his charge way more powerful, speeding up his growth by like 3 times, and he gives her lots of advice, helps her begin to come out of her shell, and is generally chill. Good times.

So y'all remember that bit about Ingenue's power causing people to go insane in the long term? What if you didn't know about that and you constantly used your power on your friends? Wouldn't that be funny?

Clockblocker is the first to snap. He's on a train when he just decides fuck it, and freezes a pencil in the air. Everyone sitting to the left of him down the length of the train gets impaled by it, just goes clean through. It's covered up as a villain attack, he's ushered off to the asylum, and the wards are just. Really messed up by it. They miss him, they miss his jokes, and they don't get why he did it.

A week passes. Taylor confides in Dauntless about how she feels like it has to be her fault, like everything is, but he reassures her. It's fine, she's done so much good, sometime's people just go bad. Genuinely just a great pep talk, she still misses Dennis but she's grateful she has the rest of her friends and Dauntless is there to cheer her up. She also mentions how it's hard to walk around the city, she keeps seeing villains and she can't do anything about it. She mentioned a few weeks ago that a bunch of them keep going into the same building, but she's helpless and just has to sit by.

That night, Dauntless levels the Medhall building. A few E88 capes were inside and they fight, and he kills them. Everyone else in the building is injured at the least, collateral damage that Dauntless would have cared about before. There's no covering that one up, he's killed dozens. When he's caught more than half the empire is dead, along with upwards of a hundred bystanders, and he's sent to the birdcage.

Taylor doesn't leave her room for a few days. Vista reassures her that it wasn't her fault.

On their next patrol, Missy begs Taylor to use her power to remove her manton limit. Taylor doesn't, but she's pretty sure she sees the pattern now. Vista's going insane. Were the other two this obvious? Should she have noticed? Would everyone be alive if she had? Would she still have friends? How can she tell anyone about this, when she'll be blamed?

She goes to Piggot, pretty much accepting that she'll get birdcaged or something. She's a horrible person, she knows that. She never gets to talk to Piggot, because all the heroes get called into the field to stop an A class threat. Vista is twisting the city around her, killing countless people. She turns bullets back, she extends a knife with her powers like Jack Slash. She's finally proving what she can do, then they'll all see, and they'll respect her and let her fight the way she wants to.

(side note, ingenue's power makes people closer to their shards in this interpretation, which also means they're flat out way more powerful even without her touch after a while)

The heroes are fighting Missy, they're losing, none of them want to hurt her. Missy see's Taylor from across the city, she's using her power to see almost everywhere at once by distorting space. Within seconds, Taylor is next to Missy. She reaches out to touch her, if she can shut down her power then it'll all be ok and Missy can get help and they'll be friends again and it wont be her fault. The space between them is a mile long and a foot thick. Missy doesn't want her help right now, she wants to prove herself to Taylor so Taylor will finally appreciate her power and they can be a team. Taylor tries to look away as Missy kills someone, space is warped so her line of sight is directly on the act. She closes her eyes, and the space between her eyelids is stretched infinitely wide. She watches, unable to stop her, as Missy keeps killing and defending and destroying. Missy begins to try to upend the sea floor, to dump the ocean onto the city. She's taken out before that can happen. How doesn't matter, what matters is Taylor couldn't stop her. The city is in shambles, its her fault, she was RIGHT THERE and she couldn't do anything, she could just watch and watch and watch.

She tells the PRT about how she thinks her power is breaking people. She's banned from touching anyone. They don't do much more, legally speaking she's safe and it wasn't her fault. The rest of the wards don't talk to her anymore. They blame her, just like she knew everyone would. It's her fault everything went to shit. She can't blame them for hating her, she hates herself too. She sneaks out to go on a walk one night, when the hateful looks and resentment get to be too much. She sees a cape. Lung.

Taylor knows her power is practically useless alone, and she walks up to Lung and insults him, provokes him, riles him up to attack her. If she dies here at least she'll be remembered for dying as a hero fighting a villain, rather than someone who corrupts everything they touch. Lung burns her, bad, all over her right side. He lifts her up by the neck and prepares another fireball. This is what she wanted, but she can't do it. She twists his power, reducing his durability and fireproof nature to zero and ramping up his firepower. Lung burns himself to a cinder in seconds, erased by his own power once the protections were gone. Taylor gets burned again in the blaze. She couldn't even commit suicide without hurting anyone else. She couldn't even die without fucking it up. She's alive. Panacea refuses to touch her to heal her, for very understandable reasons.

She goes to the asylum, despite her request for the birdcage.

Filled with guilt, afraid to touch anyone and everyone, blaming herself for everything that happened, avoiding Dennis at lunchtime while he glares at her, closing up and being silent for days on end, haunted by the people Vista forced her to watch die. Her fault, all of it.

And that's the end! Woooo! She's broken forever, no coming back from that one!

#worm #parahumans #wormfic #taylor hebert #tw: suidice #there were some other ending ideas past the asylum but none of them felt right #i can't settle on something besides she's broken forever #funniest alternate ending is Contessa uses Taylor to get rid of PTV restriction #kills scion #saves the world #and all Taylor knows is that she just helped a hat lady kill the only hope against the endbringers #but thats just a silly fun way to break her a little bit more #tw:suicide #alright I figured out how to spell words

36 notes · View notes

darling-oh-my · 11 months

Photo

“Even as your hand is forced by swine.”

#tw: blood #i guess?#tw:suicide #the terror #the terror amc #art #my art #goodsir #harry goodsir #terror spoilers #it's been five years idk if spoilers need to be tagged #haunted by this scene forever #lmk if more tws are needed!

122 notes · View notes

juicycoutureheaux · 10 months

Text

Fixer Upper: An AU Sheriff!Leon Kennedy x Reader Fic

Chapter1 Chapter2 Chapter3

Hey y’all!! I’m back again! I’d like to thank all those who left such nice things to say about the other chapters. This story is going to be a bit longer than anticipated, but that just means more details and drama (oooh!) lol. Again there are some TW, in this chapter. (Mention of suicide). I’d like to think @alewesker & @angelscoda for all their encouragement! You both are amazing and keep me motivated! If you haven’t checked out their blogs you totally should!

You learn that the sharp dressed, curt man that greeted you and Suzanne was none other than Buckley Richards, who worked as a private stylist to Jackie Bouvier Kennedy and Lily Pulitzer.

He was a force in the dressing room, ordering his assistants to grab different fabric swatches of all different colors and textures; comparing them to your skin to see what shade best suited you.

He didn’t hold back his facial expressions either, especially when something was less than flattering.

“No, No!” he would exclaim, commanding the whole studio’s attention. “She is not a winter, she is a summer! I do not want to see those colors again!”

You felt totally detached from your body, it felt like they were dressing up a doll and you despised it. You began to dread your future, because you knew it was going to be filled with nothing but superficial moments and people.

The studio assistants picked you apart, scrubbing your face, your fingernails, just about every bit of your body.

By the end of the 8 hour session, you had been taught how to apply your makeup in “the right way,” the correct way to style your long hair and how to dress for every occasion.

When you looked in the mirror, you were dressed in a prim, but stylish outfit; your hair was pinned behind your ears revealing your now “acceptable” face; your already long dark eyelashes were enhanced by mascara, cheeks now rosy with the help of some light rouge, and your nails were now shined.

It felt as if a stranger was looking back at you. You never saw a problem or cared about your looks before today. Mama and daddy always told you that you didn’t need makeup or a fancy haircut; but, according to Buckley and Miss Suzanne, they were dead wrong.

“Finally, underneath it all, a beautiful girl!” Buckley exclaimed, grabbing you by the arm and leading you to your future mother in law.

“Y/n, you look absolutely stunning!” Suzanne squealed. “You are going to be the perfect wife for my boy! The public will just love you when you make your debut at the party!”

You just smiled a polite, but forced smile. They didn’t seem to notice. The heaviness in your stomach started to creep its way up into your throat; it was starting to consume you.

You were following behind Buckley and Suzanne all the way back to the town car, where the chauffeur was putting away all the shopping in the spacious trunk.

You said your goodbyes to Buckley and thanked him for his hard work.

“Suzanne, you’ve always had the best taste, Y/N is quite the catch.” With that he hugged Suzanne one last time and returned to the boutique.

As he was leaving, Suzanne turned to you. “We’ve invested A LOT into you my dear, I hope that you keep that in mind when Patrick gets into his *way.” She said, pointedly annunciating the last words.

“Just know that it's a part of marriage that we all go through, but think of all the benefits of being married to a man like Patrick! You’ll never be bored ever again!”

“You’re right,” you thought to yourself, “I’ll never be bored because I'll be busy chasing my husband all over the city.”

You decided to keep that thought to yourself.

The chauffeur opened the door open for you and Miss Suzanne. Miss Suzanne got in effortlessly and gracefully. Your head felt like it weighed like 1,000 pounds, and it must have shown. As you made your way into the car the Chauffeur lifted your chin up by his two fingers.

“Chin up madam, you’re going to be the wife of a very important man.”

You looked up sadly and settled in the backseat of the car, praying for silence on the way home.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxx

You arrived home at just about dusk. The cicadas were buzzing as the oranges and reds of the sunset stretched out lazily over the horizon.

You thought what it must be like to be a part of the colors of the horizon. You knew the hues were caused by scattering the different light rays; but even then you wondered if there was something sentient behind those sunsets.

If there were, did they know how beautiful and admired they were by those on Earth, or did they look down upon your kind in envy like you looked up at them right now? You wanted to be free, emancipated from your situation, you wanted to be as vast and colorful as the rays in the sky.

Miss Suzanne insisted her chauffeur take your bags in for you as it wasn’t lady like for you to bring in your own shopping. She followed you in with a good sized gift bag; you immediately knew who it was for.

You could tell your mother was waiting excitedly by the door, by how quick she answered. She ushered you all into the foyer.

“Thank you for letting me borrow your daughter for the day, she is just the sweetest thing. I had to bring you something back for my appreciation.” Suzanne said to your mother holding up the large bag from the boutique.

You looked on miserably as your mother pulled out an expensive cocktail dress and an even more expensive looking pair of shoes.

“Suzanne, I don’t know what to say!” Your mother stuttered.

“You don’t have to say anything darling! This is my thank you for letting me have your daughter. I want you two to look your best at the engagement party.”

Your mother had her back turned to you when she and Suzanne shared a friendly embrace. Suzanne winked at you and you acknowledged it as a warning. She had your mama wrapped around her finger and you would be foolish to back out of your engagement to Patrick.

Your mother said her goodbyes and you received a peck on the cheek from Suzanne.

You watched the fancy town car roll away down the dirt road as your mother was showing off her new cocktail dress and shoes to the rest of the family.

“Suzanne is just the sweetest isn’t she, Y/N? You are so lucky you have such a generous woman as your mother in law.”

“Future mother in law.” You corrected her bitterly.

“Oh Y/N don’t be so sour. You have what other girls would kill for. You have to see your blessing!”

“I’m sorry Mama, you’re right.” you said obediently. You were getting used to resigning over your power, maybe it would be easier with time.

You ran up the stairs and into the restroom. You began to take off your makeup with the cold cream you knew your mama had in the cabinet. The mascara and lipstick now melted in a way that contorted your face so much that you looked like a ghoul. You scrubbed until your eyelashes felt soft and your skin was dry.

Your face may have been red and raw, but at least you looked like yourself, or your old self.

You stayed in your small room, hearing the bustling sounds of the house beneath you. Your mother was talking excitedly to Mary-Anne, as daddy and Hank were discussing sports. You wondered if Patrick and his family even interacted with each other at all.

What would they talk about? You came to the realization that you and Patrick had nothing in common at all. When you would go out together and ride in his car, all he talked about was himself. You were so enthralled with the fact that someone like him would even talk to you, that you ignored the fact he was so shallow.

You started to shake, you felt yourself detach from your body. You had to get out of the house, you had to leave. You didn’t know where to go, you had completely sold your life for the happiness of others. You couldn’t run away, they would find you and it would be an embarrassment, more shame.

The only way out you could think of was the unthinkable. If you passed away in an accident, sure your family would miss you, but they wouldn’t have to worry about you. They would just have to worry about putting fresh flowers on your grave or telling Hank & Mary-Anne’s baby about you and how you would almost* marry the most important man in town. To your niece or nephew you would live on as a princess in a fairytale; but fairytales weren’t real and you wouldn’t have a happy ending.

Patrick and his mother could find another, more qualified girl to fix his image, someone that grew up in the right family, who knew all the right etiquette and had all the right clothes.

You had convinced yourself, it was the perfect plan and maybe you would find yourself in the sunset looking back down on the earth, where you longed to be.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There was a fresh dew on the vegetation growing along the path, that brushed up against your bare legs as your bicycle made its way through the tall grass. You were riding as fast as you could, the crickets and frogs making their presence known by their various chirps.

You could see the lake just ahead, you wanted to take one last final obstructed look at the stars before you would join them. You had daddy’s sleeping pills he had been taking since he came home from the war and a bottle of whiskey that he thought no one else knew about. It was wrong taking them from him, but it was the only peaceful way you thought of going.

“It would be like falling asleep,” you had convinced yourself. “I’ll drink the whiskey till I’m drunk and throw the bottle into the water. They’ll just think I went for a swim and drowned.”

You parked your bicycle against the tree, and sat upon the soft grass at the embankment overlooking the deep blue void. As you sat closer to the shore, the wind had started picking you up, like it was a friend, drawing you closer.

The moon was the only source of light out in the wilderness and its brightness called to you, mockingly as if she longed for you to join her out in the vast nothingness, where you could be free.

You waited for an untraceable amount of time, the night was clear, the air was cool and you felt like you were finally where you needed to be. You had begun drinking, the bitter taste of the liquor was unfamiliar and stung your throat. You drink until you become unsteady and sleepy, the breeze feels like it is moving through you, like strings attached to a puppet.

You felt ready enough to unscrew the lid from the pill bottle and empty its contents into your mouth. You were fiddling with the lid for what felt like years when you were spooked by bright lights creeping up behind you. You froze in a stupor as you heard a car door open and shut, followed by heavy footsteps.

You made out the silhouette of a man in the darkness, he didn’t seem to notice you as he walked closer to the edge of the embankment. You saw him bring his fingers to push his hair back behind his face as he let out a sigh and lit a cigarette.

You were focusing on the orange ember of the end of the cigarette and didn’t realize the man had spotted you.

“Y/N?” The familiar voice spoke to you, softly.

You looked up through watery eyes and met the sharp blues of Leon’s.

You couldn’t find the words to speak as he moved closer to you. He found a place next to you and sat down.

“What are you doing out here?” His voice is gentle, just above a whisper.

You couldn’t speak, you just let the tears flow. Your body was still languid and you felt like all your energy was flowing out with your tears.

Leon wrapped an arm around you and you let him, you didn’t realize how cold you were until you felt the warmth from his body on yours.

He smelled of aftershave and tobacco, you leaned in closer to take in all of him.

You started to calm down after being in the embrace for a while, the liquid heat in your belly from the whiskey became soothing after a while.

Leon laid you down so your head was laid on his lap, your long hair was spread out over his legs; the moment was intimate and comforting. You had never felt this kind of comfort before. You were thinking of just drifting off to sleep in his embrace, but he began to speak.

“It's not worth it, Y/N.” he mumbled.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting.

“What?”

“These pills, the alcohol, I know what you came to do.”

You shifted uncomfortably, and turned your head away from him. He began stroking your hair again.

“I had an older sister,” he said, softer.

You looked up and acknowledged that you were listening.

“She was caring, she was vibrant, she was smart,” he paused. “It’s a memory now.”

You raised yourself so your torsos were intertwined, making comfortable eye contact.

“What happened to her, Leon?”

“She married someone that didn’t respect her, someone that wanted to own her, treat her like property. It started off small like the altercation you had with your fiance.” Adding emphasis to the word “altercation.”

“He was just awful to her, would cheat on her, come home drunk. After a while, she finally made a plan to leave him because she had had enough. The night before she was to leave he found out and killed her.” Leon was stoic and she could see the tenseness in his jaw.

“He would have rather snuffed out her light than see her be happy, he took my only living family away. The pain was unbearable, I wanted him to suffer.”

You reached out to caress his face; he surprised you by holding your hand to his face. You wanted to kiss him, to take his pain away.

“I decided the best way to get revenge was to prevent what happened to her, to anyone else.”

“Leon, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

He took his hand away from yours, and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Patrick is trouble, Y/N. I know you know, otherwise you wouldn’t be out here doing something so stupid.” He raised his voice, he was angry, but it sounded like there was hurt in his voice.

Your cheeks turned red from embarrassment, his words stung.

“I didn’t know what else to do, Leon! I feel so trapped, you think I want this kind of life?” You were sobbing. You were full of despair and anguish; you had been holding it in for a long time.

“I know you don’t,” he lowered his voice again and began to rub your back gently. “I know you really don’t want to die either.”

“What am I going to do?” It was a rhetorical question.

“You’re not marrying that asshole.”

“Leon, I wish it were that easy! My mother, she’s over the moon! They’ve already spent so much money on me, I could never repay them in my wildest dreams.”

“They’re manipulating you into staying! Will your mother’s feelings matter when he’s beating the shit out of you? Or when he cheats every night and leaves you alone with your children? When he makes a complete fool out of you in public? Is that really what you want?”

You just began to cry, the sobs escaping from your mouth with so much force, they sounded like choking hiccups.

Leon pulled you closer and let you cry into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rough with you, Y/N.”

You gripped his shirt and looked up at him, face red and eyes bloodshot.

“I needed that reality check. It's true, I just don’t know if I'm brave enough to leave.”

“I’m going to help you.”

You looked at him surprised. “Leon, why would you help me?”

“Because, Y/n, you’re innocent in all this. You deserve better and you deserve to be happy,”

You smiled an effortless smile. You laid your hand down on top of his. Your heart was beating out of your chest; You no longer felt helpless, this new sensation, you couldn’t quite place it.

He cupped your head behind your ear, his fingers holding your hair out of your face.

“You’re beautiful when you smile.”

You blushed and tried to turn your face away; instead, Leon moved in closer,keeping you in place. You searched his baby blues, for a hint of what he was thinking. He didn’t keep you waiting long before he moved his face closer and enveloped you in an intoxicating kiss.

It was sweet, not like the wanton kiss Patrick had given you before; this was full of fervor. The feeling of his lips meeting yours was akin to actual sparks. The current of electricity reverberated through your body, as you wrapped your arms around his neck instinctively, closing the space between your bodies.

Leon, without breaking the two of you apart, gently laid you down again on the soft grass. He had moved from your lips to the nape of your neck, the feeling causing you to feel a fire in your belly as he caressed your sides.

You had never experienced pleasure like this before, never in your wildest dreams would you have thought a man like Leon would be attracted to you in that way.

You began to panic, you were kissing a man that wasn’t your fiancé, and you were scared. You enjoyed it too much, if Leon had wanted to take it further you would have let him. He was making you feel too good; your mother had always warned you that things that felt too good to be true, were.

“Leon, please, I can’t do this.”

His body went stiff and moved off you immediately.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I’m so sorry, I feel awful.”

“Leon, don’t.” You said gently cradling his face in your hands, your thumb stroking his cheek. “I want you so bad; but I've been promised to Patrick.” You could tell by the wounded look on his face your words pained him.

“It’s obvious you’re too good for him, even though he treats you cruelly.” You flinched at his words, he was right.

“What are we going to do?” You whispered, still holding on to him

He pushed the loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“I know for a fact the Armstrongs are doing shady business dealings, how do you think he got funding for his political campaign this year?”

You thought about it for a second. You knew they came from family money and they lived in a small town, but it really never occurred to you that their dealings could be illegal.

“So you want to blackmail Patrick? That’s your idea?” You said incredulously.

“You should know I didn’t come out here to just work as the Sheriff of a small town. I’m here because I AM investigating The Armstrongs and their associates.”

“Why are you telling me this? I’m engaged to one of the family members.” You were shaking now, was everyone just going to pull the rug from under you? You pulled away from him.

“I know, because you don’t want this. I know for a fact if you had any other choice, you would take it.”

You stare at him, annoyed, but he was right. No wonder he was sent down here.

“Are you using me to get information then? I’m not okay with that, Leon.”

“Of course not!” He looked like the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “I figured you were an innocent bystander in all of this.”

Your shoulders relaxed, you realized you had accused him of something horrible.

“Leon, I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what to think, I’ve just pulled every which way and I just want to be told the truth.”

“Y/n, I promise, I wouldn’t lie to you to hurt you.”

“That’s all I ask.”

The two of you shared a chaste kiss, and he drove you back to the long driveway of the farm.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you up to the house?” Leon had his right hand over your headrest.

“The lights and noise from the car would probably wake up my family. I don’t think I’d ever be allowed out of the house again if they saw I snuck out and you drove me home.”

“Good point.”

You both said your goodbyes and you walked slowly up the dirt road to the house.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw your daddy sitting on the steps of the house and he had his eyes locked on you.

You swallowed hard and decided to face the music. You walked right up to him.

“There she is, prancing in like I wouldn’t notice she snuck out. Where the hell have you been?”

“I had to get out of the house daddy, I’m sorry it felt like I was suffocating, I’m scared.” You said and sat down next to him.

You loved your daddy, he was always there for you. It felt like recently with this Patrick mess your relationship was suffering.

Your daddy’s face softened up and he put his arm around you.

“My magnolia, I know you’re going through a lot, it’s killing me. I wish your mother wasn’t pushing you so hard.” He held you close. You felt like a little girl, safe in your father’s arms, he hadn’t called you Magnolia in a long time. It was his nickname for you since you were little.

You remembered when the boys first started to bully you at school and your daddy would hug you while you cried. He would comfort you and the next day when the boys would start again, he’d stand at the school bus stop with his shotgun and point at them.

They never messed with his “magnolia” again after that.

You wish daddy could make the Armstrongs go away. She just wanted to work her little job, maybe meet someone on her own. Leon, she wouldn’t mind dating him, he was everything an actual gentleman should be.

“Do you think you could talk to mama? I don’t think I want to marry Patrick, daddy.” You said weakly.

“I’ll try magnolia.” He said. “We should head in before Mama wakes up and yells at the both of us.”

You exchanged a hug and went back into the farmhouse feeling better off.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #fanfiction #leon kennedy #resident evil infinite darkness #patrick infinite darkness #TW:suicide

70 notes · View notes

edsrosetattoo · 4 months

Note

Your tags on my post (Ed is the suicidal one, not Izzy… obviously) are exactly where I’m at but didn’t want to deal with. Izzy is NOT suicidal. He was going to die of sepsis and was given a pistol to make it easier. The audacity is off the charts.

Yes! It’s extremely important to point out that Izzy had sepsis and it’s guaranteed that he would have died a very painful death if Jim hadn’t amputated his leg. That’s why he wanted a mercy killing. When Ed gave him the gun to kill HIM with, (just in case anyone forgot) and he turned it on himself, he was still in an extreme amount of pain. There’s a reason why we don’t call medically assisted death, “assisted suicide” anymore. Suicide is the result of mental illness. Physical pain can certainly be a factor in completing suicide but it is not the main reason, major depressive disorder and other mental illnesses are.

Post can be found here

#ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #edward teach #tw:suicide #tw: depression #ofmd s2 #izzcourse #tw: mental health

31 notes · View notes

wincestdailyheadcanons · 1 year

Text

(TW: Suicide) Wincest Unhinged #1 Three weeks after Sam Winchester died in Cold Oak South Dakota, Bobby Singer received a text message from an unknown number.

"No demon would deal. I can't burn his body. I can't watch that." -D

The old man sighed in relief. Dean Winchester was still alive. Part of him had expected Dean to eat a bullet the moment after he had left.

Dean didn't want to live without Sam, but maybe, Dean would at least come with him, help stop the horde of demons that had been set free…

A realization hit him. Dean had been in that cabin for 3 weeks with Sam's rotting body. He didnt want to think of the condition either of them were in.

"Jesus christ, Dean."

It only took Bobby 4 hours to get to the cabin. From the outside everything looked peaceful, calm, and beautiful.

Bobby looked around for the Impala. He didnt see it. Bobby opened the door to his car and got out. An odd kix of smells filled the air.

"Dean!" He called. "Dean where you at?"

Bobby opened the door to the cabin and peeked in. The bed they had laid Sam on was empty, the table with the food he brought laid molded and forgotten.

"Dean?" Bobby called, almost gagging.

Something crinkled under his boot. Bobby looked down at a note.

"He's around back. "

Dean had gotten Sam a beautiful pine box for his pyre. Had built it overlooking the lake. The bottom part of the casket was covered by flowers and photos of the brothers at every stage of life. Among the flowers and photos Bobby could see Deans cherished amulet.

Dean had left it. Knowing Dean, he saw himself as undeserving of wearing it, had twisted his mind that he believed himself to be a failure for having let Sam get killed.

Bobby recognized the smell of gasoline, and salt, masked by the flowers and decay.

Bobby took a deep breath, and took out his lighter. Sam had given it to him last year. He watched the flame flicker brightly, and then tossed it onto the pyre.

Bobby watched the flames consume the wood, then slowly work its way to the casket, the flowers, and photos, and then the amulet, catching fire.

Bobby felt his phone vibrate. A sick, overwhelming feeling of dread hit him like a wave. Normally out of respect, he wouldn't have touched his phone until the pyre had burnt out. But something told him to look.

A text message from the same unknown number.

"Thank you. I couldn't let him go alone."

Bobby swallowed, looking around frantically for Dean. Surely he had to be somewhere, watching? Bobby went into the cabin, searching, calling the phone number, listening, hoping to hear it ringing somewhere..

"Dean!?" Bobby all but screamed, frantically looking. He ran up the stairs, stumbling and falling hard on the last step. He pulled himself up, ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg. He went into the bedroom that faced the lake and pulled back the tattered curtains and looked out, scanning, searching the shore across the lake for Dean.

In the water he could see the flames' reflection shining off of something black and shiny.

His stomach dropped. It was the top of a car.

Bobby kept calling again and again, praying, he hadn't prayed since his wife died. No answer.

Bobby went back to the pyre, maybe he could see Dean, or hear the phone better out, something, anything…

One ring, two ring, three ring… Bobby heard the sound of a ringtone, faint, but there, close, so close, it rang again, and Bobby turned his head to the sound, realizing with sickening horror that it was coming from the now fully engulfed casket…

"No. No. No."

Bobby called one more time.

The call went straight to voicemail.

#sam/dean #wincest #Wincest: Unhinged #WincestDailyHC #supernatural #TW:Suicide

219 notes · View notes

damndroid · 7 months

Text

Fionna and Cake: The Escapist Fantasies of Suicide and Apocalypse

One of the first things just about everyone noticed during episode 1 of the new Fionna and Cake miniseries is the incredibly dark lyrics of the opening theme, "Not Myself".

I'm not really feeling like myself today

Hated every job I've had

What's wrong with me?

Everyday's the same

Painfully mundane

'Cause I'm running from my feelings

And my fear of sudden change

Every time I leave my room I wanna die

Even when I'm with my friends

I'm alone inside

'Cause nothing really matters

And I don't know what's sadder The fact I even try

Or that my hopes and dreams are shattered

I'm not really feeling like myself today

Ay ay ay ay

We see another take on the same theme with Simon. As himself, he is incapable of helping Fionna. Losing himself to the madness of the crown in order to be useful again isn't just a sacrifice, it's a suicide.

It strikes a chord, but I initially struggled to see how these themes expanded through the rest of the show. I also struggled to reconcile why, if Fiona is struggling with suicidal ideation, the culmination of her arc in episode 10 is her realizing that the world she lives in, while flawed, is worth fighting for.

And then it hit me: suicidal ideation and apocalyptic ideation are fundamentally the same escapist fantasy.

When I've struggled with suicidal ideation, it has often been through the lens of a release from the responsibility of being part of the world. When you struggle with the constant tasks of keeping yourself fed and clothed, the responsibility you have to the people in your life to be kind, communicative, understanding, and supportive seem out of reach. You begin to feel like, well -

But damndroid, you whimper. What's apocalyptic ideation? What does that have to do with this?

Well, the fantasy that Fionna entertains for most of the series isn't suicide. She wants to replace her world with a magical one full of adventure and promise.

It's only over the course of the series that she realizes that the realization of this fantasy means destroying the world she knows and the people in it.

This kind of fantasy of being able to let go of a mundane, doomed world is something that I think most people in my age group are familiar with. Our media landscape has been saturated with apocalypse for decades. We love stories about sad dads in a world where civilization has collapsed figuring out how to help their daughters (Simon included). This is a reflection of the fact that our world feels doomed. Climate change, the perpetual economic collapses of late stage capitalism, the endless wars of imperial domination, the rise of a new global wave of fascism. It's too much.

If the world is going to die, it's certainly a lot more fun and easy to think about adventures in the aftermath than about the complex process of its death and what we have to do now. This is the core of apocalyptic ideation: the problems that we have a responsibility to help solve seem insurmountable and out of reach. It's easier to imagine a world where we have already failed.

In her superb video essay The World Is Not Ending (please watch it please pleasepleasepleaseplease), Sophie touches on this idea, primarily though a criticism/extension of Mark Fisher's famous quote "It is easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism." Sophie continues this thought:

"If we are trapped by the conviction that we cannot possibly win, imagining others remaining idle is the thing keeping us stuck. If we want to come unstuck, we need to have confidence in each other…the sooner we fight back, the better the world gets to be as a result”

I guess this whole spiel is an excuse for me to say this: we only get one world.

It's not dying. It's being killed.

And not fighting back is suicide.

#Fionna and Cake #Fionna and Cake spoilers #tw:suicide #tw: suicidal ideation #suicide #suicidal ideation

39 notes · View notes

fastlikealambo · 9 months

Text

i was going to write a fic with barbie comforting y/n during a depressive episode but then I just couldn’t help but imagine barbie and ken

barbie: being very attentive, making sure you eat something, drink some water, staying safe

ken: *beatboxing* YOU’RE SUICIDAL YOU’RE SUICIDAL, YOU’RE SUICIDAL, WHY

#barbie #barbie 2023 #ken #tw:suicide #tw: mental health #barbie x reader

38 notes · View notes

save-the-villainous-cat · 1 year

Note

I'm sorry if you find this request sensitive, it's totally alright if you don't feel comfortable writing it...

But if it's alright with you, could you write about a almost suicidal hero? Who really can't die because of duties. But it's clear in their mannerisms what they are plotting... Not eating properly, self harm cuts, being super reckless in battles etc...

And a villian who hasn't seen their hero for like 3 months finally breaking into their home, seeing the hero in that condition, and taking them to their lair to take care of them.

It dawning onto them how they almost lost their hero, and completely breaking down before them. Then doing just anything possible to bring back the light on their face.

tw: mention of suicide

Actually, the villain wanted to say a simple “hi” as greeting. But they couldn’t bring themselves to form any words. They just stared at their bruised hero who was silently reading Dostoyevsky.

“Do you want to sit down?” they asked without looking up from their book. The villain remembered reading a few pages in a copy like the hero’s.

“What happened here?” the villain whispered. The hero didn’t answer, so the villain decided to clarify. “Did someone break in?”

Again, there was no answer, so the villain dropped the topic. Truth be told, the hero’s apartment wasn’t as nice as it used to be. The villain had been there once when their nemesis had kidnapped them months ago.

Books were everywhere — which wasn’t a bad thing but the amount was disturbing and concerning — primarily written in English, Ancient Greek, Latin but there were also others in different languages.

Everything was messy, it smelled like death and abandonment. It smelled like burnt toast and mouldy coffee.

So, the villain asked the obvious question, the one they’d been avoiding.

They’d learnt that people hated obvious questions. Someone wounded wasn’t very keen on hearing “Are you hurt?”

“What happened to you?” The hero laughed dryly as answer and closed the book. Finally, they looked up at the villain, their eyes weirdly glassy and sunken in.

“Would it be very dramatic to say that life happened to me?” they asked.

“I don’t think life means rotting in one’s home,” the villain said. It broke their heart to see the hero like this.

“Well, then you’re wrong. You’re rotting your whole life. Life is decaying.” The villain didn’t say a word at first. Where was the bubbly and energetic hero they’d known once? The one who told stories, not the one who was hinting at depressing philosophy.

“You read too much.”

“I don’t read enough,” the hero hissed. Their gaze was indifferent and cold. It hurt.

“It’s wonderful that you have a new hobby to kill time but I haven’t seen you in months and you look ill. I was worried about you, I’ve heard about some risky manoeuvres you’ve tried recently.”

The hero sighed.

“What do you care?”

“I missed fighting you,” the villain said. They weren’t the one who needed to be questioned. They didn’t want to be questioned. They shouldn’t be questioned. “Would you just please tell me what’s going on with you? There was no word from you all these months.”

“Oh, you know. Nothing much happened, I was just reading a lot…” The hero began to talk about a lot of things, just not about what the villain wanted to hear. They managed to form with their words a quick summary and analysis of their favourite Shakespearean sonnet but it was rather stuffy to listen to.

Meanwhile, the villain dared to let their eyes wander. But as soon as they fell on the hero’s forearms, they wished they hadn’t.

The villain stretched out their arm and slowly lifted the loose end of the horrible bandage. It happened so fast, the hero didn’t realise it at first, they assumed.

And the villain saw enough to know what was going on. Quickly, they pulled back, eyes wide open, their breathing heavy.

The hero had stopped talking about Shakespeare and was staring into nothing.

“You’ll come with me.”

“It’s nothing,” the hero answered, their eyes suddenly piercing through them.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I am fine.”

“You’re hurting yourself,” the villain said. “I am not a psychiatrist but you don’t seem fine.”

Their voice shook. And then they felt the tear rolling down their cheek. The realisation hit them harder than they wanted to admit.

“Oh god, are you planning on killing yourself?!” They gasped for air. They needed something to hold onto. They wanted to throw up. No, they wanted to scream. They wanted to cry and curse. They wanted to shake the hero and shout at them what in god’s name had forced them to do this.

The hero nodded slowly to answer the villain’s question.

“My sidekick’s training is coming to an end next week. After that, there isn’t anything for me to do anymore.”

The villain broke down in front of them and with that, they revealed every little feeling, admitted every little thought and confessed every little fear.

They hoped it would be enough to save their first love.

#ah yes cat only depressed people read Dostoyevsky #listen to goodbye brother by Ramin djawadi when you’re reading this #I have to write more whump !!!#writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #tw:suicide #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #angst #suicidal hero

288 notes · View notes