#TW SUICIDE

[thunder-the-ranger-wolf]

Reasons to live (cw for suicidal ideation)

At first it was my family's pets.

Then my mother found out and guilted me into it (do not recommend.)

Then it was the help my aunts gave me while I was drowning in college. I realized people would miss me.

Then I got involved in a couple projects in college so I could say I helped contribute to something with tangible results. And people liked having me around.

After college, [and a chunk of space where I genuinely don't know] I went to live with one of my aunts, and her dog kept me sane.

You slowly, very very slowly, find things to live for. And id you find enough (or if you keep busy enough) you look up one day and notice you won't have to look as hard as you used to.

I'm very sorry to ask something like this, I've really been struggling with this question, and I wanted to ask the combined wisdom of the people on this site

I would like to know why you keep going, and what drives you to keep living. I know there are a lot of reasons to stay alive and enjoy life, I can think of a few that personally resonate with me, but I really want to know what your reasons are

You do not have to comment on this if that's too big of an ask, and I'm very sorry for asking something like this, I really need someone's help, I feel like I don't have much purpose

Also if I may ask, please don't post any suicidal ideation in the comments of this post, I really can't handle something like that right now

[phantasmatoucan]

BAD ENDING: REGRET

SOME CONTEXT:

DONT THINK MUCH ABOUT THE DETAILS THIS IS MOSTLY A "FUN" AU BAD END THING I MADE BC I WAS WONDERING HOW FAR I COULD TAKE OPPORTUNIST TO ACTUALLY REGRET HIS ACTIONS LMAO

[babyblankyerror]

Don't mind me just thinking that as some point Stanley had an actual friend in the streets and that friend so happened to have a lot in common with him.

They are always on the move but every now and then they catch up and then, one day he finds his friend (I imagine a girl but it doesn't really matter) all...broken. Turns out they were an older sibling and they wanted to reconcile with their sibling but... heartbreakingly, they were told they were disgusting for the life they led- along with many other awful things.

(Tw suicide)

"You're my best friend, (fake name)...if that's even your name" they say and Stanley is just knelt down with them, holding his only friend close "everytime I look at you it's like looking in the mirror"

And just like that something breaks in both of them as Stanley feels his pockets empty, the familiar weight of a gun gone as his friend stands up. He's too afraid to look but the 'click' gives it away as to where the gun is.

Stanley finds himself calling their friend's name, a silent plea as he asks for the gun back-

"You're my best friend, surely you don't want me to keep suffering" they say "You, out of everyone else, should know what it's like. I've seen it, the way you eye the edge of the roof too longingly even though you're afraid of height, the revolver in your car with only a bullet-"

"There's nothing left" His friend says "one day you're going to have that little hope ripped away from you too, you know? No one cares about folks like us"

"I care about you" Stanley finds himself saying

"But it's not me who you want to care for...just like it's not you who I want to care for" it hurts but Stanley knows they're right...deep down the similarities of one another were overshadowed by the similarities of their own siblings.

Stanley watched his friend(?) press the gun to their jaw and is unable to ask them not to so instead he closes his eyes, clenches his eyelids closed so hard he sees colorful spots fly in his blackened vision.

"Look at me" a hand tugs on the back of his hair, it's so familiar and violent from hands that were so caring once that Stanley let's his eyes fly open in shock

"I want you to watch because this is going to be you one day"

"N-no.." his voice doesn't sound his, it sounds foreign and small and...helpless. The pain in his heart agrees with his friend, it aches as he is powerless against the hold on his hair and his gun, hopeless as they pull the trigger and red obscures his vision.

Everything is a little blurry and quiet apart from what was once a gentle and familiar body hitting the floor with a THUMP.

[meo-eiru]

Hello :3. I love Elias, from head to toe, that very dependent personality, the way he is only in love with us makes the possessiveness inside me triple ×10000. I love how he loves only us, that feeds my possessive side SO MUCH, my desire to mark him to the soul, to parade him around and show that he is mine and no one else's, rubbing it in everyone's faces indirectly, dressing him in so many ways; dresses, tops, skirts, suits, etc!

I love your art of him, specifically the art where he was home alone, the pose and expression are so.. 🔥💯👌, what makes me want to take him for hours, take him to heaven so much until he can't talk or walk for weeks, push him to the edge and deny him orgasm so many times that he's a whiny, crying mess, can't think of anything but me, make him call me "mommy" and other names, beg me to let him cum, and when he does I'd be there to wipe his tears and help him come down from that high of ecstasy and pain, tending to him like a princess, my princess. The good thing is that I don't like to go out much, so we would be together at home a lot, for better or worse.

But, unfortunately, sooner or later I would get bored :(. His dependence would sooner or later become annoying to me, in addition to his lack of "interior", Also, sometimes I would be incredibly clingy and loving, but the next I would take my distance (mostly to charge my "battery"), I don't like people taking my things or phone, I hate routines, etc., which would generate conflicts. so I would end my relationship with him, regardless of his threats or the fact that he destroys my entire social life. It's very sad :(

Tw: self harm, suicide

Elias would experience like 10 different emotions in the span of a minute reading this thing lmao

It's such an interesting situation, you've made him get used to constant pampering only to leave him at the end. I really don't think he can go on to live like a normal person afterwards.

If his attempts to keep you with him didn't leave him immobilized or something I can imagine him stalking and harassing you in a crazed state for a month or two. He would probably find ways to contact you no matter how many times you block him, sending you pictures of all the new scars around his body, saying "it's your fault look what you did to me"

He would refuse to work or meet people if it's not related to you, leading to losing his job. Constantly screaming at your door. He would be in ruins in all possible face except his face, he would try to keep his face as beautiful as possible. Though his skin would be paler and he would have eyebags

If you got a restraining order to keep him away from you for good he would break into your house one last time, a knife covered in dried blood at his hand.

He would place it next to neck, making sure you're watching, and cut.

You may have stopped loving him, you may hate him, you may not care about him... but now you will never be able to save yourself from the curse he placed on you. Until you too are closing your eyes to this world, Elias will make sure this image will be engraved into the deepest depths of your memory.

At the end that face of his was the only thing unscarred, because that's the only reason you even began to love him.

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 91, Part 2

Pearkit is scared by everything happening in the Clan, but Icekit helps her have some fun in the snow.

[Image ID: Pearkit and Icekit run off to play while Trumpetspore talks to Puddlewhisper and Rattlepelt. Under Pearkit, it says + NEW SKILL: MOSS-BALL HUNTER. Under Icekit, it says + NEW SKILL: ODDLY OBSERVANT.]

WARNING: This edition of RippleClan's Promise contains discussion of an off-screen suicide. A non-triggering summary of the events can be found at the bottom of the update.

Puddlewhisper liked being a mother. No, not liked. Loved. She loved being in the nursery full time, she loved watching Icekit and Pearkit open their eyes and learn to speak, she loved her newfound son and daughter so much! It somehow made Lemmy's betrayal, her exile, and the three heartbreaking deaths of the last moon bearable, as Puddlewhisper could sit outside the nursery and watch her kits play in the new snow.

The snow had come back the night before. It began to cover the five Clans during the Gathering. Like the dramatic end to a grand story, the first flakes fell as Downstar explained Lemmy's exile and the murders of Potterypool and Lightningrunner. By the time RippleClan made it back to camp, the shipwreck was once again well-covered in snow. The walk back felt like a nightmare for Puddlewhisper, who attended to explain the happy news to her friends in other Clans. It didn't feel right to leave Icekit and Pearkit behind at the start of a snowstorm—memories of Tempestshade and Shadowdrop's situation flashed in her mind—but when she got back to the nursery, Icekit and Pearkit were asleep at Rattlepelt's side, cuddled up with the recently named Midnightkit and Valleykit.

Now, in the peace of the new morning, the four tiny kittens tumbled about in the snow. Midnightkit and Valleykit were only just starting to wobble around camp, only a few tail-lengths from the nursery, but Icekit and Pearkit were far more active. However, their interests were rather skewed from what Puddlewhisper expected.

"But I don't want to move away," Pearkit whined as she reached a paw toward the freshly ignited bonfire in the heart of camp. "It's cold!"

"And this is hot," Currentsmoke laughed, nudging the tiny molly away once more. "Very, very hot. I don't want you to hurt yourself." Currentsmoke plucked dry twigs out of a basket at his side and fed the flames.

"I just wanna touch it!" Icekit squeaked, eyes sparkling with the early signs of a firebug.

"No one is touching the fire!" Currentsmoke laughed, although a bit more tension leaked into his voice this time around. He was so distracted by the pair that he nearly put his head into the bonfire.

"Let's see if they reach apprenticeship with their whiskers intact," Rattlepelt purred. The furless artisan sat beside Puddlewhisper outside of the nursery, enjoying a little sunshine while her new sons played. She dragged out a chunk of the nursery's leather floor so her bare skin didn't lay on the freezing snow.

"Should I make them play with Midnightkit and Valleykit?" Puddlewhisper wondered.

"They'll be fine," Rattlepelt said. "It's not like my toms will remember today." Puddlewhisper nodded absently. She slowly sank into the snow, as though it would swallow her with one wrong move. She sat in a loaf and studied her kits. Her kits, Puddlewhisper kept telling herself. No one had seen Nimble since that fateful day. If she cared about them, Nimble would have at least come looking. She probably thought they were dead, putting the blame for Lemmy's burning path of vengeance on the entirety of RippleClan.

It seemed strange to admit, especially after the accident with Moontide and Cobaltchaser a few days prior, but for the first time that winter, Puddlewhisper felt… safe? Confident? Happy? Even though it hurt to know her other little sister was gone, Cobaltchaser got to run with Lightningrunner and their parents in StarClan. Puddlewhisper couldn't describe her feeling, but it was a sort of peace, a kind of security that had been absent since Potterypool's body first turned out along the Great Northern River. It was a release of tension rippling through her shoulders. It was a warmth in her chest. It was an assurance that her kits would grow up in a happy period of Clan history.

But with so many recent vigils, Puddlewhisper knew that was a lesser-seen feeling in the Clan. No one better embodied that idea than Trumpetspore, whom Puddlewhisper noticed creeping out of the warrior's den.

Puddlewhisper couldn't recall seeing Trumpetspore outside the den since Mosspounce's vigil. Puddlewhisper had stopped by the warrior's den a few times to share tongues or connect with her siblings, but every time she did, Trumpetspore was in her nest. Sometimes Paleseed or Slushtrail sat with her. Sometimes they talked with her, othertimes at her while she laid quiet and unblinking. Now that Trumpetspore stepped into the white morning, Puddlewhisper could see the weight of so many days spent nesting. Half of Trumpetspore's thin pelt pressed awkwardly to her side, matted and untouched. Trumpetspore would need the mediators' help with oil and a comb to handle that mess. Had no one shared tongues with her? Or had she refused all offers?

Pearkit's attention shifted from the glorious warm flames of the bonfire to Trumpetspore's surprise appearance in the clearing. Her little blue eyes bulged at the sight of Trumpetspore's mats and her drooping face. She backed away from the bonfire, keeping her unblinking gaze focused on Trumpetspore. Puddlewhisper's ears burned. She prayed Trumpetspore didn't notice. Icekit, however, did, and glanced between Trumpetspore and his sister.

"Pearkit, let's melt the snow!" Icekit quickly suggested. He trapsed away from the bonfire and plunged his muzzle into the snow. He breathed hard, breath fogging artound his face as though he could breathe fire. Pearkit immediately forgot Trumpetspore and copied her brother, smacking a chunk of snow until it melted under her paw.

"Trumpetspore!" Puddlewhisper called. Trumpetspore looked up, hackles rising for a moment. "Come share tongues with us."

"I need to use the dirtplace," Trumpetspore said, inching toward the dirtplace path.

"In a bit," Puddlewhisper said, scooting over. "Join us." Trumpetspore crept close. She slowly settled herself beside Puddlewhisper and Rattlepelt, her matted side facing the former.

"Once the weather warms up," Rattlepelt said, giving Trumpetspore's shoulder a few good licks, "you and I should go collect some clay. It's been a while since we've made a pot together. The clerics could use some new jars. It seems Gingerpaw has been a little clumsy."

"Maybe," Trumpetspore said. She rested her chin on the edge of Rattlepelt's leather mat. Puddlewhisper, meanwhile, studied the knots and mats in Trumpetspore's fur.

"Rattlepelt, do we have any oil?" Puddlewhisper asked. Her paw pated Trumpetspore's biggest mat.

"We should have a bit we can use," Rattlepelt hummed. She got up to check, but Trumpetspore batted at her leg.

"Don't waste oil on me," the black molly grumbled.

"It's for your own good, Trumpetspore," Puddlewhisper huffed. Rattlepelt squeezed around Trumpetspore and entered the artisan's den. "If you're not going to groom yourself, let us help."

"I don't want to share tongues with anyone," Trumpetspore whined, ears pinned back. "I always shared tongues with my brother."

"The mediators will do it if I don't," Puddlewhisper pointed out. "I think it will be less embarrassing this way." Rattlepelt returned, rolling a pot up to the pair. She settled the pot on its base and pulled off the leather lid, now glistening with oil. When Trumpetspore said nothing, Puddlewhisper grabbed the damp leather and rubbed the excess oil onto Trumpetspore's mats. The black molly shivered at the touch.

"Maybe you can think about it this way, Trumpetspore," Rattlepelt sighed as Puddlewhisper massaged the oil through Trumpetspore's mats. "We're just filling in for Mosspounce."

"What does that mean?" Trumpetspore muttered. She rolled her cheek onto the cold snow. "He's dead. I can't share tongues with him anymore. I'll never see him again."

"But you will," Rattlepelt reminded the grieving molly. "You believe in StarClan, don't you? You know Mosspounce is up in Silverpelt. So is Tempestshade, and Shadowdrop, and some of your old friends. They're all waiting for you. Some day, you'll get to share tongues with Mosspounce again. I know it will be nice to tell my sister all about my kits when I die."

"I…" Trumpetspore gulped as Puddlewhisper placed the sticky lid loosely on the oil pot. "I forgot about StarClan."

"I guess it's easy to forget our friends aren't truly gone sometimes," Puddlewhisper sighed, readying her claws. She carefully stuck her claws into Trumpetspore's biggest mat. She gently tugged at Trumpetspore's fur, coaxing out little squiggles of moss and foreign hair.

"They're in StarClan," Trumpetspore muttered, moving her head onto her paws. "They're up there… without me."

"It's only a matter of time till you see them again," Rattlepelt promised. As Puddlewhisper worked on Trumpetspore's mat, she looked back to her kits. Icekit and Pearkit worked together to melt down a circle of snow, revealing the sand underneath. They grew more and more excited the closer they got to their goal. Puddlewhisper couldn't stop herself from wondering, how long would it be until she joined her parents in Silverpelt? How long would her kits have to wait to see her again?

Oh well. The musings of life, Puddlewhisper supposed.

(Puddlewhisper: 57, trans female, codekeeper, thoughtful, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Pearkit: 1, female, kit, quiet, moss-ball hunter)

(Currentsmoke: 26, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, inventor and innovator)

(Icekit: 1, male, kit, unruly, oddly observant)

(Rattlepelt: 74, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Trumpetspore: 52, female, warrior, nervous, makes the best pottery, good storyteller)

Trumpetspore… she…

[Image ID: Rattlepelt talks to Oilstripe, saying "This isn't what I meant…" Under both of them, it says + CONDITION: GRIEVING.]

---

The waking nightmare began as a murmur, a flutter of soft voices muffled against heavy snow. The sound coaxed Rattlepelt out of a deep, dreamless sleep little by little. It barely reached her ears, and her eyes begged to stay shut. Yet the whispers and gentle pawsteps said to Rattlepelt, get up.

And so she did, albeit slowly. Midnightkit and Valleykit were hidden underneath Rattlepelt's fox pelt, which now laid sideways over her body. Slivers of moonlight glinted off the snow outside and gave the nursery a soft blue shine. Puddlewhisper slept a fox-length away, limbs dangling out of her soft nest. Icekit and Pearkit slept on top of one another, pinning Puddlewhisper's back leg. A heavy warmth hung over the queens and their adopted kits, a warmth that made Rattlepelt loathe to step out of her nest. But there was a twitch in her gut that continued to whisper, on your paws, come along now.

Rattlepelt tried to figure out why she was awake as she slowly twitched life back into her paws. Was it a late-night rush to the dirtplace? No, that wasn't what her gut told her. No, it was Wildclaw, wasn't it? She was supposed to join Rattlepelt in the nursery once she was relieved from guard duty. How deep into the night were they? Shouldn't Wildclaw have joined Rattlepelt by then? Those questions stirred Rattlepelt to life.

Rattlepelt carefully pulled her fox pelt straight against her back. She slunk away from Midnightkit and Valleykit, praying they wouldn't wake up. Rattlepelt rubbed her paws into the leather floor and braced herself for the chill outside. The snow bit her feet and her eyes burned at the sudden introduction of firelight.

The camp bonfire was small, a sign of conversing heat for a sleeping Clan, but still bigger than it should have been for a quiet night. Oilstripe stood silhouetted against the flames. The autumn leaves that adorned her fur glowed, light streaming through the thin material. Oilstripe spoke with Venturedapple, Scaleripple, and Vervaincough. Every face burned with a solemnity that made Rattlepelt nauseous. Vervaincough shook in just such a way that Rattlepelt knew it wasn't from the cold.

Scaleripple noticed Rattlepelt from the corner of his eye and quickly muttered something to Oilstripe. Oilstripe looked back at Rattlepelt. Her face was torn, just like the day she returned from the human settlement without Carnationspeckle. The ginger deputy whispered to her Clanmates. They each went in separate directions; Venturedapple left camp, Scaleripple slipped into the warrior's den, and Vervaincough jogged toward the medicine den.

"Oilstripe?" Rattlepelt whispered. "Why is everyone acting like this?" Oilstripe turned to her adopted daughter. Her breath was shaky, and she blinked wildly. Rattlepelt crept closer, unable to tear away from Oilstripe's fearful eyes. A moment later, though, Troutpool and Weevilsight burst out of the medicine den and scrambled to the camp exit. Honeybuzz, Estherfern, and Gingerpaw followed slowly, whiskers fallen and a basket in Gingerpaw's jaws.

"Is someone hurt?" Rattlepelt gulped. Oilstripe groaned, running a snow-soaked paw over her muzzle.

"I need to start at the beginning," she said. Her voice was coarse and rattled. "I, uh… alright. Estherfern had a dream. A clump of mushrooms, rotting under moonlight. She woke me up and said it was about Trumpetspore. She was out of camp and in trouble. I sent a patrol to go find her. They just came back, she's…" Oilstripe sat down. Her legs tensed with the effort. Rattlepelt waited. The bonfire crackled at her paws.

"She killed herself," Oilstripe said. "Trumpetspore killed herself."

Maybe you can think about it this way, Trumpetspore. We're just filling in for Mosspounce.

"The codekeepers are certain of it. No prints around her body, no scent trail. I don't know what to think."

He's dead. I can't share tongues with him anymore. I'll never see him again.

"Shadowdrop's spirit is here. He's nodding at me. The codekeepers are right. StarClan, I didn't know Trumpetspore's grief was this bad."

But you will. You believe in StarClan, don't you?

"The patrol brought her body back, but… how am I supposed to just bring her into camp? What do I tell the Clan?"

You know Mosspounce is up in Silverpelt. So is Tempestshade, and Shadowdrop, and some of your old friends. They're all waiting for you. Some day, you'll get to share tongues with Mosspounce again.

"Scaleripple is waking the mediators. Maybe they will know what to say. What I really need is for the clerics to make sure she's presentable. I, I should talk to Downstar."

They're in StarClan. They're up there… without me.

"This isn't what I meant…" Rattlepelt croaked.

Oh StarClan. StarClan no. She was trying to comfort her! That conversation had been just two days prior. Did… did Rattlepelt give Trumpetspore the idea? She barely thought about what she said! She just wanted to help! This was her fault!

"Rattlepelt? Rattlepelt, sit down."

This was her fault. This was her fault. Trumpetspore didn't need to do this! She still had a life ahead of her! She could have found a mate, had kits, mentored more apprentices.

She and Rattlepelt were going to make more pots.

Rattlepelt gave her the idea. It wasn't supposed to be a way out! She did it again! She caused someone's death, again!

"No, Rattlepelt, you can't blame yourself for this. Can you breathe, please? Woah, woah, don't fall over! Rattlepelt, can you hear me? I'm getting Paleseed."

Wildclaw was wrong. It happened again.

(Rattlepelt: 74, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Oilstripe: 95, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

NON-TRIGGERING SUMMARY: Puddlewhisper and Rattlepelt helped groom mats out of Trumpetspore's fur. Trumpetspore had been violently grieving Mosspounce, so Rattlepelt tried to comfort her. A couple nights later, Rattlepelt woke up to find Oilstripe solemnly discussing something with a patrol. Oilstripe informed Rattlepelt that Trumpetspore died by suicide outside camp. Rattlepelt has a panic attack at this, believing herself to be at fault for giving misinterpreted advice.

SUICIDE HOTLINES

(United States/Canada) National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 988

(United Kingdom) National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 0800 587 0800

(Australia) Lifeline: 13 11 14

[arceespinkgun]

The Autobots aren't all right! The comics are something else....

[christiansinglebabes]

✨I think he should kill himself, because it'd be funny if he took the same cowardly way out as his Idol Adolf Hitler (⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠)✨

I don't want Elon Musk to kill himself because that would get him some sympathy from liberals and "oh so you don't care about mentally ill people?" would become a common line. Ideally I'd like him to be assassinated Luigi-style, but again that runs the risk of him becoming a martyr. No, the best way for him to die is in a stupid accident of his own creation, which I'm frankly shocked hasn't happened yet. Y'know like Tesla malfunction, falls over the non-OSHA-certified guard rails in his own factory, SpaceX explosion, crushed to death trying to fuck one of his ugly robots, ect.

[good-beans]

I'm curious how much they're going to specifically acknowledge in his vd, but I was just getting sad over Fuuta rejecting treatment for his eye -- at first I was thinking it was a big step for him to risk a deadly infection from it, but then I remembered the silhouette cross/lyrics in Backdraft. I wonder if it's not just acceptance of the risk, but even a quiet, passive hoping that something bad will happen...

[stopmyhearts]

okay. Romana self harm thoughts. Under a cut because of subject matter but yeah. I warn you now this shit is explicit, if you read it that's not my responsibility

So, Romana is so traumatized that it isn't really a question on if she hurts yourself, but rather how and when she starts. The easy answer would be during or after Etra Prime but I'm a big supporter of the 'Romana has always been somewhat fucked up' idea so I think it started earlier. My girl is a psych major (to me at least) and accordingly a bit wrong in the head. I don't think she does it in a truly concerning amount pre-Etra Prime, but like. She's tried it a couple of times in the academy. It's not as if anyone on Gallifrey would see, anyways. I think she just wants to see what it's like, and she's got a bit of a morbid curiosity. She's just fascinated by the blood (I'd say she tries some cuts probably), she doesn't actually want to hurt herself, it's not a coping mechanism. So when she joins the Doctor she hasn't hurt herself in several years, if not decades, and the adventures scratch any itch that might be scratched by cutting as well. I think maybe, placing 'the Doctor's first XI' just before Destiny of the Daleks, she does it occasionally there. Again, not often, and it's more boredom than anything, but staying a century or longer in one place, surrounded by all these terribly traumatized people, that's going to do a number on your mental health, Time Lord or not. And I think that makes it easier too, for her to choose to regenerate, to shorten her lifespan like that, because that is definitely, if not a suicide, either a sacrifice or significant act of self-harm.

And I think that does scare Romana II. Like, she plays it all off as a joke, but I think deep down she knows that's serious and it scares her off. So she throws away any tools she may have previously used, and stops. I still think maybe if she gets overwhelmed she presses her fingernails into her palms a little too hard or she chews her lips until she accidentally draws blood sometimes but nothing more than that.

And then we come to Etra Prime. Obviously she gets hurt constantly there, so I don't think she adds to that without cause. But she does keep trying to escape, I think, like she doesn't want to live anymore but more than anything she wants to stop being hurt. And I think she's willing to risk more pain for a chance to escape. And to spare other people too, if she can. I don't think she ever loses that compassion, but it is very hard because she has to weigh the suffering in front of her eyes against the potential suffering out in the universe, so she never gives up her secrets.

Post-Etra Prime, I believe she has a lot of chronic pain to deal with, and is desperate for control. Control over herself, over the people around her, over all of Gallifrey. And her physical pain and disability are things she can't control, so I think she gets some control from inflicting pain on herself. Maybe she did so on Etra Prime too, I don't know. Pressing on scars until they hurt, twisting her knee just so, scratching at bumpy scars to make them less noticeable, overdoing it, not letting herself rest, all that sort of stuff. I think there's a point to it too that she needs some pain to function. She's exhausted, but a sudden pain can give that little spike of adrenaline she needs to keep herself going through long days as a president. And I think that's approximately the level it stays at, at least for as far as Enemy Lines (which is where I am currently). Like it gets less or more depending on the situation, in general I think post-Warfare it gets less because she had her big suicide plan there and I think it gets Narvin and Leela onto her more too. And there's not really much room to escape each other on the axis. Also, she heals, slowly and not completely, but some of the pain and exhaustion do get less, especially while she isn't president. So it's both harder to hurt herself and less necessary for her daily function.

Truly what is wrong with her, I love her and I love to give her issues

[nakakabaliw]

curly talks

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

friendly reminder that the word 'vegetable', used about human beings, is an ableist slur. regardless of whether you consider the specific human beings in question to have thoughts, feelings, sensations or anything, it has been used against people with brain injuries, intellectual disabilities, high support needs autism, and other categories I'm not immediately recollecting. there are better words you can use to describe those who do not appear to have thoughts, feelings or sensation. I wanted to add a smiley face but decided that looked passive aggressive, so I didn't.

you use the number 24 weeks. we've saved babies down to ... 21-something, iirc? maybe it's down to 20 weeks now, I forget. but anyway, regardless... I was born twenty-two years ago at 26-something weeks. that's not very long after when you're advocating for abortion. yes, in that situation every day is a big difference developmentally, I'm aware. but I'm just pointing out that there isn't a great deal of difference in time.

nobody should ever being suicide baited. full stop. like, suicide is not a thing that should exist, and no, not even for that person. whoever that person is to you. telling someone they should kill themselves is something that ought to be unthinkable. it also speaks to something really sad in your character, I think. do you need a hug? do you need someone to talk to? hate is such a difficult emotion to feel that strongly! maybe you need a break? I get that you feel strongly, and it makes sense but at the same time, it's okay to take breaks even from things you're passionate about, especially if they're causing such extreme reactions. the world will not fall to ruin if one person takes a couple of weeks or even longer off the internet. please take care of yourself, you're the only you we've got.

also, to say that pro life men want free rein to rape children is a profoundly weird take and says something very strange about your views of people, honestly. it concerns me a bit. again, please consider disconnecting and considering your opinions.

I feel like this is going to come across as condescending or patronising, and I'm really sorry about that - it's not my intent at all, I'm just worried, you know? I want people to take care and be gentle with themselves and be safe and kind and remember they're loved. I'm being as sincere as I know how right now.

also the original post is quite nasty and I think you should seek professional help to deal with these emotions. even though it's bound to be a bait post, the idea that you would actually say this, even as a joke, is worrying. OP, please take care and think about the fact that there are human beings on the other side of the debate and screen.

I think all pro-lifers should be raped, forced to have the baby (no exceptions), and become forced to raise it for 18-20 years just to see how it feels

[ozzybutweirdthistime]

hellooooooo guess who got into mouthwashing

[bugbashir]

When I was a very suicidal trans activist in Texas, Benjamin Sisko saying “sure, you would [die for your people]. Dying gets you off the hook. The question is: are you willing to live for your people?” changed and possibly saved my life. It’s up there with “if we are going to be damned, let us be damned for who we really are” from Picard. Star Trek not only shows us a better world, it teaches us how to make it there

[fairycosmos]

instead of killing myself i will watch documentary about the ocean

[contact-guy]

THE FINAL PROBLEM - part 9

This update comes with a content warning, which you can read here if you're so inclined.

THE FINAL PROBLEM - part 9 of a few more - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8.

This is in the Watson's Sketchbook series!