#Trigger warning suicide

[dreaming-of-lucidity]

Fun fact: that vitamin is most likely vitamin D.

No, this is not some boomer take where I tell you "get off that damn phone and get outside!" Except for the fact that doing so has actual, scientifically proven, mental and physical health benefits.

This is also not a reject-modern-medicine take. Sunshine will not cure any physical diseases, but it can help depression and anxiety in some cases.

For instance, vitamin D deficiency is well known to cause depression:

Instance 2: lack of vitamin D causes Bad Bones (tm):

I was put on vitamin D supplements when I started HRT so I could avoid osteoporosis. I had severely low levels, about 1% what they should've been. My doctor was surprised I had never broken a bone.

Tw suicide below cutoff! Nothing too important below either

Before my gender kicked in, and before any meaningful changes happened, my depression nearly went away entirely. I went from being severely suicidal to having no ideation at all. And also avoided the Bad Bones Disease (tm).

All of this to say, vitamin D will not solve all your problems. But it will solve some, and in more ways than you might think. Open your window. Walk in circles on your front porch. Chase a bird. Wear sunscreen. Most importantly, don't get osteoporosis because you're depressed.

Me: You know how when you were a kid and you’d wish that you’d get sick or injured in a way that would justify why you didn’t live up to your potential?

Everybody, apparently: No?

[endomentendo]

TW: suicide reference/ drug abuse

Should I continue this as a painting?

[expensivemistake]

matthew murdock parallels. earth 65 & earth 616

[pmpknsoup]

ohhhhhh something about the way siffrins mental health is portrayed is just so. oh its so RAW. hes so anguished and hes so desperate and you FEEL IT. the shaky text the screaming the blacked out screens. its so visceral. and its ugly. and its frantic. and its not romanticized or pretty or anything of the sort. its real and its heavy and its intense and he lashes out and its so GOOD. the repetition, the rituals, the unhealthy attachments. the obsessive routine, the "script". the ANGER the disgust with himself the LONGING. the aching yearning the way he digs his teeth into everything familiar because he cant lose this too, if he loses his friends, his FAMILY, then what does he have left??

AND ON TOP OF THAT. the way his family all help him out in their own ways. bonnie giving them snacks because thats how they know how to love. odile begrudgingly setting aside her own issues with feelings to ask siffrin if hes okay. isabeau seeing siffrin spiraling and gently redirecting his attention. mirabelle telling siffrin she really does care about him and that shes glad hes there. OHHHH ITS SO GOOD its so good i cant even express.

TW FOR SUICIDE UNDER THE CUT

especially the spiraling with the dagger. oh my god. the way his dialogue slowly changes everytime he uses it. the frantic IT FELT LIKE DYING, AND THEN LIKE NOTHING. AND KNOWING YOU PUT YOURSELF THERE!!!! and the way he feels ashamed and the way it stops being "you killed yourself" and starts being "you saved yourself some time". the way he stops thinking about it and starts stabbing immediately. the way it gets worse and worse and the way when hes confronted by loop and asks "is anything going to happen if i keep doing it?" and loop saying "i think it already has" GOD. god the way mental health is handled in this game. oh my god.

[raywhitfield92]

Loona gave Stolas her clothes. I hope they bond more and he opens up to her about the truth, that he's been suicidal all his life but Octavia was his reason for living.

Because the way Sinsmas looks I don't think Octavia is willing to listen to her dad, just like seeing stars Loona might talk to Octavia about it.

Also hoping Moxxie and Millie are going to be super appreatiative of Stolas now.

[akemiiya]

Trigger warning: suicide

uncensored version below

only one way out.

Fanart of this fic:

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.5

Coke Paul is just so pretty

What is the switching glasses supposed to mean in the penny lane video? Any thoughts?

In this interview, Paul seconds John's “go on forever” comment from a few months ago. They really did so well when they were living together, didn't they?

Okay, let's look at the difference in Paul's trips. His first ever trip with Tara Browne and he's just concerned that his sleeves are dirty and just mildly looking through a book of pictures. VS with John? The “I know.” “I know.” The “emperor of the universe” thing? Raving about it to everyone who would listen? Having to leave multiple times because it was scary how tightly they were bonding?

Their songwriting partnership is beyond insane. It's superhuman, it really is. Their abilities, their connection. And Cyn and Terry just reading. Just completely nonplussed. This was very every-day, monotonous stuff for them. Unfathomable. 

That song will always get me, though. “what do I do when my love is away?” “Obviously move my best friend in to take her place and then write a timeless classic with him about how it.”

Astrid: At first I did wonder if the really cared about people's feelings and people's friendship. Maybe this doc's whole thesis is “John and Paul's love for each other was so big they didn't have room for any kind feeling toward anyone else.”

The Pepper photoshoot is insane to me. Like more insane than the David Bailey one. Change my mind. You can't.

John tells an interviewer, "Only now am I beginning to realize many of the things I should have known years ago. I'm getting to understand my own feelings." Were follow-up questions just not invented yet??!! What things have you just learned, John? What feelings?

Never forget Linda took these. She must've been somewhat aware of how annoying this man was going to be about John from the start. And she still went after him. That's how good his . . . Nevermind.

"a decisive moment in the history of Western civilization" Well done, babies. 

I love smug Paul in general, and I especially love when he's smug about John. That “me and the badass bitch I pulled by being autistic” look. But literally. 

Gosh the Greece trip looks so beautiful. Idyllic. Paradisiacal. All of the beautiful people are just so blissful and in love. Sigh. (Every time I tried to take a screenshot of it it was too awful. Peter Jackson should clean it up.)

What are everyone's thoughts about the cause of Brian's death? I really liked what Vivek Tiwary said on AKOM. He knew he was taking a dangerous amount of drugs and he was depressed. But he wouldn't have just left so suddenly without leaving a will or setting things in order for the Beatles business. Anyway, no matter the cause, his death is the beginning of the end for the Beatles.  

All those quotes and pictures about the “intensity” between Paul and Brian are fascinating. “Obviously adored” “overcompensate” “little worries” What does it all mean? Was Brian in love with Paul in the end like he had been in love with John in the beginning? Or did he just feel bad because he knew it was unfair to Paul how in love he was with John? 

Wait, Brian was hospitalized for s*icide attempts in 66? Really? Confirmed? I knew he was in the hospital, but didn't know it was due to s*icide. 

Paul's hand at the small of John's back here, helping him onto the bus. It's so tender, so customary. They took such good care of each other.

Interviewer talking about MMT: If I can't see it in color, I'm going to send it back. ... :/

They're directing something and as Paul starts to walk away, so does John. But not because he wants to. He's looking around almost frantically. He has no choice in the matter. Only one person gets to control their legs at a time, and right now it's Paul's turn. 

Look how fucking ecstatic he is. I guarantee John isn't saying anything that monumental but look at those eyes. He's done for. Gone.

Interviewer: just get a tape recorder and you and Paul and the others just start gabbing. John: well, we've got a lot of that lying around the house, actually. Me: First of all “the house?” “the house?” Just casual. Like “our house” Like it's just common knowledge that they've been married and living together since they were fifteen. Second of all, give us the tapes already!! Who has them? Paul? 

All of these quotes from the Hunter Davies biography are just so normal. They're all so normal. It's fine. I'm fine. And here's my tin hat coming on again (and yeah I believe John loved George and Ringo immensely) but I think sometimes in these quotes, when John and Cyn are saying "the Beatles" they kind of mean "Paul . . . And George and Ringo". John himself actually says as much in the seventies, that when he says "the Beatles" he might just mean Paul, or just him and Paul. And there are countless times when Paul or John will start out saying "the others" and end up using just one name in a sentence. Idk this doc makes me such a truther I swear I'm not always this crazy.

And John's self soothing, reassuring refrain playing over all of it, “nothing's gonna change my world.” Right after Paul and Jane get engaged? Someone stab me in the heart, it would hurt less. And this is just the anticipation of the next part. Can I even handle part two?

Have some happy screenshots to bolster us.

[sirlancenotalot]

[dramadramallama]

deadass about to fight people defending the core message of death's game like there's nothing to criticize about suicide being straight-up presented as this Great Unforgivable Sin™. personally, i think it could have been such a powerful journey if the preachy tone was completely removed, if the personification of death was utterly neutral, and the main character, yi-jae, wasn't shamed and guilted into Understanding, after going through other people's lives.

i loved the show (!), but the punitive aspect coupled with the literal guilt-tripping and torture simply does not align with the feel-good moral i've seen pleople try to apply to it. the problem is it loses almost all meaning if the character goes through that development under the threat of rotting in hell forever. he's basically reduced to being a rat in a maze, fighting tooth and nail to survive vague, impossible rules, and being absolutely disdained and berated for it.

people do not commit suicide because they don't love their family/loved ones enough. i feel as much empathy for the ones left behind as i do for the ones who choose to leave.

how can we reasonably expect him to experience "illumination" when he's put into increasingly difficult situations where death is basically unavoidable?

i am glad yi-jae came to regret and to feel remorse, i am glad he was amazingly able to see past all the pain and torture he was put through, i am glad he was given a second shot at life (?)... but at what cost? the man basically ends up living his twelfth life alone, and empty, and broken. what a way to show him life is worth living. he did not deserve what lead to his suicide, and he certainly did not deserve what followed.

he tried. he was full of love. he did good. he was good.

[kjwaikiki]

Headcanon idea for Jayce and Viktor in Arcane. Do you think Jayce had an end game for after he found and killed Viktor? After Viktor died what was Jayce gonna do?

I have two ideas:

One is that Jayce had no plan and was just desperate and did not think everything through. He had no idea what he was gonna do after killing Viktor and wasn’t really sure he could go through with it in the first place (I think he closes his eyes during the scene but am not entirely sure).

Second idea is that Jayce had a bit more of a plan but it was a very short and very dark plan. Jayce was planning to kill himself after killing Viktor. Maybe he would even go back to where Viktor first saved him and finish the job. Regardless my idea is that Jayce would not have been able to live with all the guilt and regret, and that would have been all that is left after his rage was spent.

These are just some of my ideas. Maybe you have a different take on Jayce, that scene, or Jayce and Viktor’s relationship in general. I love headcanons and would love to hear anyone else’s ideas.

[enby-jellyfish]

Frankenstein's Gift

GN!Frankenstein's Monster X GN!Reader (POC Friendly)

Pronouns: You/Your

Summary: Your father creates a cure for your loneliness.

Warnings: TW: ASSISTED SUICIDE (BREAKING NECK), typical Frankenstein's monster stuff, death, reader is carried, angst.

Word Count: 1851

A/N: My (very, very) late Halloween contribution :)

Your father is a man of science. Dr. Frankenstein. You know him as a curious soul, a kind father, a good man. Others, however, would call him overly ambitious, frighteningly clever, mad.

He makes no attempt to try and mend this perception of him, instead choosing to turn the other cheek and holing himself up in that dusty old lab of his. You admire his ability to ignore people’s comments, you can’t say the same about yourself.

People’s perception of your father has had a tremendous effect on you, turned you into a social pariah. You stopped going to school early on, your father deciding to teach you himself to spare you the pain of being an outcast. To say you are lonely would be an understatement.

Your father knows of these feelings of yours, tormenting your mind. He has tried plenty of remedies to try and help you, none of which did, causing you to give up hope and accept that you would only ever have each other’s company.

Your father, however, did not lose hope. One day having this sudden giddy aura about him. Upon questioning him, he just grinned widely at you and told you that ‘You’ll see'.

2 years pass and you forget about this conversation, spending most of your time in your father’s well-stocked library. On your birthday you are in said library, rereading your favourite book in your favourite chair with your favourite beverage to sip from as you wait for your father.

When he finally arrives, he is still in his work-clothes, bearing an odd sparkle in his eyes. You’ve only seen this particular sparkle a few times, all of which he had invented something extraordinary.

He tells you he has a surprise for you and gently puts a blindfold over your eyes and carefully guides you down corridors and up stairs to your destination.

When you finally come to a stop you are able to deduce, using your remaining senses, that you are in your father’s lab, a solitary chamber at the top of the house. Your father’s rough hands gently remove the blindfold whilst uttering a ‘happy birthday’.

You are met with the sight of an unmoving person strapped to a metal medical table with leather restraints. You slowly move towards it as your father starts enthusiastically explaining how he made you a cure for your loneliness.

You barely hear him, too engaged with taking a closer look at the person. They are tall, with mismatched, sown together body parts, both male and female, a greenish tint decorates their various shades of complexion. Their sunken eyes move behind veiny eyelids, as if focussing on things only visible in their dream. Black hair flows from their head down onto the slab, surrounding their head like a halo.

“Let me wake it up for you, are you ready to meet it?” You father produces a device he proceeds to place upon the person’s head, tying the strap tightly under their chin. You step back as he stands by a lever, motioning for you to move back before pulling it when you do.

The device lights up, sparks flying into the air, causing you to cover your face and turn away. The light dims down, allowing you to turn back, lowering your arms from your face.

The first thing you lay your eyes upon is the person, lifted vertically by your father flipping up the table, loosening the straps. It is now you can see their eyes; behind a watery shine you notice they are unlike anything you’d ever seen. Yellow, with greyish white irises that seem to glow, akin to an animal’s.

Beautiful.

And not moving from you, intensely keeping their gaze.

You are snapped from your daze by a croaking sound escaping from the person. Then they start moving, stumbling towards you.

Getting a stray cable caught on their ankle, they trip. You rush forward to catch them, ending up on the ground, cradling the person on your lap. You cup their cheek in your hand and check for any sign of injury but find none.

Your father claps his hands. “Look at you two getting along already, how wonderful!” He ushers the two of you up on your feet and out of his lab. “Go on now, don’t let me interrupt!”

There is very little time you spend apart since then. You take it upon yourself to name them; Simulacra, Sim for short. A word used to describe a representation or imitation. In Sim’s case, a human.

Over time the two of you grow closer, you help them practice their motor skills and speech. They’re a fast learner, quickly advancing to learning to read, write, and basic maths.

Sim is a sensitive soul, you notice, and more intelligent than they are able to express. They particularly enjoy your shared walks through the garden, talking about everything and nothing.

You enjoy those walks too.

It is on one of those walks, years later, you are notified of your father’s death. A fire, they told you, one of your father’s inventions.

Ironic, in a way.

Being your father’s only living relative left, you plan the funeral. Sim helps you, of course, their intellectual level is about the same as yours by now. They have started challenging you instead of the other way around.

The funeral, being the first time you leave your father’s, now your, grounds, is strange. You’re grateful for having Sim by your side. Though they seem uncomfortable too, you have each other.

People whisper when they see the two of you, Sim being the main subject of their ridicule. You can make out insults like ‘creature’, ‘abomination, ‘monster’. That last one seems to really shake them.

Back home you catch them staring into a mirror, tracing their mismatched fingers over the seams where they are sown together, pinching the off-coloured skin. “They called me a monster.”

You step fully into the room. “They don’t know what they’re talking about, they don’t know you.” You take their hands, squeezing them in a way that is meant to be comforting. “You are no monster.” You look up into their watery eyes, wiping a stray tear from their cheek. You go to remove your hand but Sim cups it over their cheek, closing their eyes, revelling in the gentle touch. Sim’s eyes open again, they mimic you and cup your cheek, an odd look in their eyes.

They lean in, stopping before your lips meet, as if asking for permission. You give it, closing the gap.

The kiss, though wonderful, doesn’t last long. Interrupted by the sound of glass shattering you break apart. You rush to the origin of the sound, finding a broken window and ablaze curtains. Outside you can hear people yelling incoherently, pitchforks and torches raised.

Sim quickly pulls you away from the window as the flames spread and another bottle of something gets thrown through the ruined window. They drag you through your childhood home, down the stairs, and into the main hall.

You watch as the front door cracks and splinters like dry wood under the force of a battering ram and the angry townspeople come pouring in. You grasp Sim’s hand tighter as they start pulling you back towards the stairs, only to be met with the rapidly spreading fire, flames licking up the walls, scorching stone, and reducing wood to cinders.

Sim’s hand grips yours painfully, shaking with adrenaline. They frantically look around for an opportunity to escape, the townspeople closing in, backing you into the fire whilst screaming profanities.

What happens next is a blur; Sim, your sweet, gentle Sim, lashes out. You’ve never seen them like that before, driven by pure, unadulterated fear. They punch, scratch, kick, and bite their way to the door, dragging you behind them. The two of you don’t stop running until you physically collapse.

Traumatised, exhausted, and depressed the two of you decide to continue moving. You end up in the mountains, where you get married, unable to bear the thought of spending any time apart after what you’ve been through.

Though neither of you bear any physical scars of that day, Sim has retained an extreme fear of fire. Their phobia became particularly noticeable during the harsh mountain winters, refusing to build a fire.

You don’t mind that much, blankets and sharing body heat will suffice for a few months, though you do miss feeling properly warm.

You are happy there, as happy as the two of you can be at least, having built your new life from scratch.

Good things don’t always last though, as you are driven from your home again, Shunned by something out of either of your control.

You and Sim keep travelling, moving from town to town, country to country, continent to continent, never fully able to settle before being forced to run again. During your travels, Sim continued their studies, now having way surpassed you.

Eventually the two of you end up in the arctic circle, where exactly you aren’t sure. You don’t think Sim knows either, though they’re too stubborn to tell you.

The extreme cold hasn’t done you well, making you sick and weak, slowing you down. Sim hypothesises you have hypothermia, among other things, and does everything in their power to keep you warm, but is still unable to build a fire.

It doesn’t hurt anymore though, and you’ve long stopped shivering.

You are dying, you can tell, slowly.

In-between hallucinations you find a moment of clarity. Sim is carrying you, trudging through the thick layer of snow, wind whipping through their long hair. You are wearing a thick layer of fur, tied shut tightly, probably due to your previous attempts to take them off.

“Sim.” Your voice is hoarse, the singular word scratching your throat painfully, you think you taste blood. You attempt to clear your throat, causing a coughing fit.

Sim stops walking, kneeling down to grab a waterskin and pour some water between your cracked lips. You drink it greedily, the water soothing your aching throat slightly.

“Sim, please.” They continue to ignore you, choosing to keep fussing over you, readjusting your clothing, as if they know what you are about to ask them.

“Sim you have to kill me.” They freeze, closing their eyes tightly. “Please, I don’t want to die like this.” You beg. “I know, I know.” Their chin trembles, watery eyes almost overflowing.

Sim shifts you into a more upright position on their lap, resting your head in the crook of their neck, their hand on the back of your neck, just below your jaw. Their other arm coming around your back to hold your arm tightly. Sim takes a shaky breath. “Thank you.” They whisper. “Thank you.” You whisper back.

Sim tightens their grip on you and with one swift movement they snap your neck, taking your life, holding you in their lap as you did when they gained theirs.

Sim wanders away after that, grief-stricken, leaving your body to be frozen in time, buried in snow, never to be seen again.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading <3

[ram-kingofpeanuts]

I think it's comical the number of times Arjun's go to decision to a frustrating problem is to kill himself if he couldn't solve it in the first go, which he inevitably fails at and Lord Krishna has to save him with a Technicality .

I just imagine Lord Krishna complaining to Godess Rukmini "He can't keep doing this dear!"

Like seriously he came close to dying like 9-10 times and almost 6 of them were from him vowing to kill himself.

From a meta view, Arjun's fetal flaw was his pride so maybe Maharishi Vyasa was trying to show the greatest threat to a proud person is themselves? Idk

[yo-kaiwatchkillyourfamily]

Trigger warning talking about dying and committing suicide (I don’t want to offend anyone )

wtf why the fuck is this the second search result?

Why does Google think Alphys commit suicide?

[zychimixx]

TW: Suicide

“I’ll hang myself here.”

[fuck-customers]

Finally put in my two week notice to the job I’ve been at for over seven years and I’m so happy. Working there actually makes me want to off myself and I’m glad that I’m finally putting myself first. If this is the sign someone needs to quit their shitty job, do it.

Posted by admin Rodney.