#cw assisted suicide

[skele-bunny]

Whats the worst thing the ghouls have done?

Ooo

CW - Medium descriptions of cannibalism, torture, drugging, physician-assisted suicide, mass death, and gore

Long post!

Dewdrop - Ate Omega and killed his previous pack at the command of Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil. Won't talk about it.

Aether - Let a sibling die by their pleading requests. They were terminal, and Aether granted their wish and euthanized them. Legally, it's documented as they passed from their illness

Rain - Accidentally severed a brothers arm. They were rough housing against general concern and advice, and Rain's claws pressed in just a bit too hard. That brother lost his arm permanently, Rain severed it too much.

Phantom - When he got used to his possessor/mind control abilities, he started manipulating a few siblings to do what he wanted (his chores, getting him things, stealing, etc.)

Cirrus & Cumulus - Ate a few sisters outside of the blood moon which could get them killed if ever found out. They buried the skeletons deep in the woods with Mountain's help.

Mountain - Read previous. Also intentionally poisoned a few higher-ups when they were visiting, as he was on kitchen duty. Overheard them shit talking the abbey and his Papa. Wasn't lethal, but definitely put them out of commission for a few months.

Swiss & Sunshine - They were fucking a brother that wouldn't stop making advances towards them and killed him in the middle of it, suffocation. There was no remains left to burry as they burned the bones to ash.

Aurora - Stole one of the guitars and broke it on purpose beyond repair to get revenge on Swiss so he couldn't play at one of the rituals and could only use his other instruments. Unfortunately, there's always extra guitars on standby.

Special - Experimented on newly summons just for him while trying to figure out how to perform elemental changes. Forced organ transplants, forced cannibalism, sticking and poking. Pure torture. Accidentally assisted in the Papa's deaths.

Cowbell - Killed 3 humans separately for different reasons. He won't talk about it, and doesn't fully remember 1.

Doves - Nicknamed the Missionaries as they carried out outside assassinations for Sister Imperator. They've killed multiple "threats" and innocent people who unfortunately were at the wrong place at the wrong time. They've also made some scenes look like murder/suicides or mass execution.

[rommaru]

Fenro Week Day 2: Growing Old @fenroweek2024

Quiero que apagues mi luz.

Personajes: Gyro Gearloose, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera.

Palabras: 3583

Advertencias: diferencia de edad, angustia, Fenton podría tener una enfermedad crónica, Gyro tiene una enfermedad crónica, eutanasia/suicidio asistido (se deja a interpretación del lector), muerte de dos personajes. Resumen: En una relación atípica los resultados son atípicos. El tiempo avanza, el amor crece, las cosas cambian y la vida acaba. La inquieta mente de Gyro está atrapada en un cuerpo atrofiado hasta que el hartazgo logra que ambas partes pacten un final; mientras tanto Fenton recibe el cruel reto de la misericordia y descubre que su amor excede la vulgaridad del deseo.

Desde el principio la condena se sembró, creciendo entre la delicada línea de lo cuestionable y lo impredecible. Gyro sabía que era mayor a Fenton por varios años, nunca le gustó hablar públicamente de eso pero tampoco negó la realidad. En lo personal, jamás temió al paso del tiempo ni a sus consecuencias sobre su cuerpo; envejecer es normal, y aún con los tragos amargos de la vida no desearía cambiar sus experiencias por oportunidades nuevas. Con ese orgullo era un poco más sencillo lidiar con el juicio externo, especialmente el de la Oficial Cabrera al comienzo de la relación.

—Yo también soy un adulto, Gyro. Es mi decisión, plena y consciente, estar contigo— sentenció Fenton con una severidad poco típica y desde entonces el tema no volvió a debatirse abiertamente entre ellos.

Tenían 36 y 28 años cuando acordaron ser novios. El tema de las relaciones de poder y sus múltiples ventajas en la vida adulta siempre llenaron los rincones de la mente de Gyro. Era una situación reprochable independientemente de la sinceridad de los sentimientos, y el gallo luchó arduamente para que esas diferencias no crearan brechas en la relación.

Gyro procuró un ambiente equitativo e impulsó a Fenton en cada momento para alcanzar sus metas profesionales y personales, validando cada aportación digna de ejecutarse. Un puesto fijo y condiciones dignas dentro de McDuck Enterprises fue sólo el inicio, después vinieron un par de artículos para revistas arbitradas con Fenton como autor principal, colaboraciones y asistencias a congresos de índole científico, incluso proyectos dirigidos enteramente por el doctorando.

En horas de trabajo todo era estrictamente profesional, los múltiples rechazos sutiles hicieron entender a Fenton rápidamente, lo atribuyó al carácter de Gyro y su deseo por conservar su imagen de “primero la ciencia, después los robots y al último la humanidad”. Esto no le molestó al pato, parte de la atracción que sentía hacia su novio radicaba en la arrogancia de su intelecto.

El pequeño departamento que legalmente era de Gyro pasó a ser el hogar de ambos junto al dúo de robots sintientes. Gyro también permitía que tomara su auto cada que quisiera; fue agradable no lidiar con el tráfico diario en la ruta al trabajo.

El ahora Dr. Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera evolucionó finalmente. Su naturaleza gentil y despistada persistía, pero su nuevo aire de confianza y libertad incrementaba su atractivo.

Gyro recuerda vívidamente que el momento en que decidió que se casaría con ese hombre fue cuando se plantó duramente contra Bradford Buzzard durante una reunión ejecutiva.

Después de la boda los recuerdos se dispersan. ¿Ocurrió primero esa visita a un viñedo con degustación del vino local? ¿O fue antes ese viaje familiar que tomó un mes entero de planeación? Lo único seguro es que ocurrieron antes de las modificaciones al exoesqueleto de Boyd y después de mudarse a una casa más grande.

Sin importar el orden de los eventos, los años fueron desvaneciendo la intensidad de las preocupaciones de Gyro. Como un fractal, la forma se mantenía, pero el espacio que ocupaba mantenía una relación inversamente proporcional al tiempo.

Es increíble lo que un pequeño cambio en la rutina puede exponer. El gallo, contrario a la tradición, no era una persona que disfrutara las mañanas. Mientras se enfrentaba al desafío diario que era superar la irritabilidad matinal, su esposo ya habría tomado una ducha o se encontraría haciendo el desayuno. Ese día fue una excepción. Después de una visita al baño durante la madrugada fue imposible dormir de nuevo, su cuerpo había perdido el calor de las sábanas y sus ojos carecían de pesadez. Observó por algunos minutos la belleza inherente del pato, su suave respirar y la paz reflejada en su cara le traían sentimientos cálidos. Se preguntó si los estragos de la vejez afectarían la atracción que Fenton sentía hacia él, pero toda la devoción entregada en forma de besos, abrazos, palabras y miradas profundas no podía fingirse.

Esa línea de pensamientos arruinó toda posibilidad de recuperar el sueño. El día anterior regresaron tarde del trabajo, es probable que Fenton quisiera dormir más de lo normal y sería grato que al levantarse no tuviera que preocuparse por otra cosa que no sea tomar el desayuno. Cocinar para alguien es un lenguaje de amor.

La motivación de Gyro llegó a su fin cuando revisó el buzón de correo y encontró entre las facturas un sobre manila con el sello del Laboratorio Clínico de Cardiología de Duckburg con Fenton como destinatario. Un vacío se instaló en su estómago, su corazón latía rápido pero la adrenalina no disparó la respuesta de pelea ni de huída, se congeló sin posibilidad de hilar una idea entera. Sentía ira y desesperación.

Boyd se sintió intimidado cuando Gyro empezó a gritar. Fenton había guardado un secreto horrible y por primera vez en mucho tiempo encogía su cuerpo con temor.

—Papá murió por complicaciones cardíacas, podría ser hereditario…

—¡Y tu eres tan estúpido que te crees inmune! ¿¡Qué demonios pensabas!? ¿¡Por cuánto tiempo ibas a ocultarme esto!? ¡Y encima sales a jugar a ser el héroe, como si la armadura pudiera prevenir que tu corazón falle!— su rostro estaba rojo y las lágrimas no paraban.

Hicieron falta muchas disculpas y explicaciones mutuas para lograr bajar las defensas con las que intentaban proteger sus propias vulnerabilidades.

—No quería mentirte, sólo no quería preocuparte… Ha sido un proceso difícil para mí porque me trae recuerdos de él. 

Gyro siempre creyó que la muerte le alcanzaría primero, si no era por su predisposición a las tragedias y accidentes de laboratorio, seguro los años de autonegligencia le pasarían la factura. Era una idea con la que tenía paz. Confiaba en la fortaleza de sus seres queridos, que era mayor a la propia, para prepararse y sobreponerse ante ese evento. Fenton podría sanar y seguir adelante, Boyd era consciente de la efimeridad humana y Lil’ Bulb sería el primero en aceptarlo. Ahora ya no podía evitar la idea de que su esposo partiera primero.

Ser Gizmoduck ya era un riesgo en sí mismo, pero toda la angustia que eso le generaba se manifestaba en mejoras para la armadura que había cambiado bastante desde el primer prototipo. Gyro estudió cada villano, cada derrota y sobrepensó hasta el cansancio en búsqueda de la perfección. El objetivo no era hacer a Gizmoduck el superhéroe más fuerte, sino conseguir la armadura más segura para el piloto. Obsesionarse con el trabajo era la forma más saludable de somatizar su angustia desde que dejó de arrancarse las plumas.

Si Fenton tenía una afección en su corazón entonces su obsesión lo conduciría a estudiar todo cuanto pudiera en biomédica y cardiología, buscar al mejor médico sin importar en qué lugar del mundo resida, usar todo tratamiento confiable y pasar el resto de su vida cuidando de su esposo para minimizar el impacto en su salud.

Las manos de Fenton temblaban mientras abría el sobre.

—Todo esto… ¿para nada? Debes pensar que sigo siendo el mismo idiota.

—En realidad recomienda que haga revisiones periódicas. No se descarta la posibilidad de una enfermedad en el futuro.

—¿Significa que no habrá más peleas?

Los adultos miraron al loro, a pesar de las actualizaciones en su hardware y su sistema operativo, sus emociones aún nacían de la inocencia. Sentía un miedo terrible de perder su lugar seguro y a sus figuras paternas. Durante la siguiente hora consolaron a su hijo y reafirmaron sus compromisos como matrimonio. Amar es comunicar.

Hacía tiempo de ese evento, suficiente para que la fractura resultante se hubiera sanado. Con una sonrisa amarga recibió la maldita ironía de la vida. Era su tendencia a la tragedia, podía apostar todo a que de eso se trataba. Los síntomas comenzaron alrededor de sus 42 años, y hacia los 43 no había duda de su diagnóstico. Gyro sufría de esclerosis múltiple. Como todo paciente de una enfermedad crónica atravesó las fases del duelo, siendo la negación y la depresión las más difíciles y duraderas.

Siempre proyectó su vejez con un alto grado de autonomía. Esta noticia tiñó de incertidumbre todos sus sueños. Los pacientes jóvenes que conoció en un círculo de apoyo parecían llevarlo muy bien con síntomas que no imposibilitaban sus vidas; no asistió por mucho tiempo ya que los encuentros le estaban causando el efecto contrario. Su médico sugirió terapia física si los síntomas relacionados a su musculatura empeoraban, y terapia ocupacional para mantener su mente en buen estado. Gyro rechazó ambas porque no las consideraba necesarias aún.

Sus síntomas eran de tipo remitente-recurrente. Tres veces a la semana debía tomar una inyección subcutánea que contenía un inmunoregulador. Una amable enfermera explicó la técnica adecuada para hacerlo en casa. Al principio era Fenton o Boyd quien le suministraba el medicamento hasta que se desensibilizó a la idea de hacerlo él mismo.

Se hicieron cambios, la carga de trabajo tuvo que disminuir para que el estrés no fuera un factor detonante. Scrooge tuvo que saber de esto, pero Gyro rogó por discreción y se reservó a la idea de ser público con su diagnóstico. Mientras sus síntomas no fueran evidentes o no se presentaran a la vista de otros, podía vivir en una fantasía de negación donde el trato que recibiría de otros sería el mismo.

El primer brote hundió a Gyro en un miedo tan profundo que sólo había experimentado en Tokyolk. La mitad derecha de su cuerpo no existía. Su mano, su pierna, su rostro, todo permanecía en su lugar, pero nada reaccionaba. Se preguntó si morir se sentía así, si este momento era la muerte misma visitando. Fenton condujo como desgraciado al hospital mientras rezaba todo cuanto recordaba. Boyd cuidaba el cuerpo medio funcional de su creador en la parte trasera del auto, haciendo preguntas para verificar el estado de consciencia de Gyro.

—Pensé que te perdería— el pato acarició su mejilla con delicadeza.

Una resonancia magnética reveló un infarto cerebral que fue tratado oportunamente. Reconoció la voz de Fenton, pero la experiencia lo enajenó tanto de su propio cuerpo que no pudo hacer nada con el impulso que tenía de abrazarlo y consolarlo. Su hijo miraba a un par de metros de distancia con Lil’ Bulb sobre su hombro, probablemente usaba su biometría para monitorearlo y asegurarse que los médicos no hayan dejado nada de lado.

Los médicos dijeron que estaría bien mientras estuviera en monitoreo y se apegara a su tratamiento, pero la frustrante realidad tenía otro plan. Fenton le miraba como si fuese a romperse apenas levantarse de la cama, esto aseveró su deseo de forzar a su propio cuerpo a fingir bienestar. Al diablo con las piernas entumecidas, seguían ahí, seguían recibiendo estímulos y por todo lo sagrado iban a moverse, así fuera el sufrimiento más largo, iban a moverse para demostrarle a su esposo que no debía vivir en eterna preocupación.

Los espasmos redujeron su dignidad. Una bebida derramada encima, una placa de circuito mal soldada, pérdida del equilibrio, pequeños accidentes que mermaron su mente sumado a su cuerpo cansado. Ya no sabía si el malestar en sus ojos recaía en la miopía o en la esclerosis, y hace poco tiempo habían conseguido un bastón que usaba en sus días malos. Gyro por fin se rindió y aceptó retirarse antes de tiempo. No hubo manera de hacerlo discretamente, nada escapa del radar de Della Duck, quien hizo una pequeña ceremonia de despedida sin la opinión de Fenton de por medio.

—No tenemos que hablar de los motivos por ahora, sólo deja que te mostremos gratitud por todo el trabajo que hiciste. ¿Me dirás que al Dr. Gearloose no le gusta una fiesta cuyo propósito es halagarlo? Vamos Gyro, te conozco demasiado bien.

Su primer día como jubilado lo pasó en la cama. Boyd insistió en quedarse con él, pero Gyro solicitó que acompañara a Fenton en su inicio como el Jefe del Departamento de Investigación y Desarrollo y lo cuidara para que no se perdiera la cabeza con tanto poder. Durmió hasta tarde, y al levantarse se sentía vacío. Las enfermedades autoinmunes eran una broma de mal gusto, la forma más frustrante de autosabotaje que desde hace 7 años le puso un precio alto a su paz, y desde hacía 3 años que requería acomodaciones mayores. Un hondo suspiro asentó la idea de que no tenía porqué aceptar la esclerosis, nunca lo haría, pero eso no detendría su vida, y tampoco hundiría a su familia en sentimientos de condescendencia. Mientras tuviera la capacidad, seguiría dedicándose a sus pasiones. Las actividades diarias y simples tomaban más tiempo, y tiempo de sobra era algo que tenía ahora.

El cambio en la actitud del gallo marcó diferencias en la dinámica familiar. Gyro usaba siempre su bastón, tomaba descansos a menudo y dudaba menos en pedir ayuda.  Sus seres allegados dejaron atrás la neblina de especulación y pusieron buena cara ante su situación. Fenton iba al trabajo con calma, sabiendo que Boyd se quedaría en todo momento cerca de Gyro. La fisioterapia se realizaba con pequeños ejercicios en casa y una vez cada semana en un centro de rehabilitación; ver la condición de otros con menos suerte le hacían mantenerse agradecido.

La vejez y la muerte trataron con gentileza a María Cabrera. Debido a su avanzada edad se había mudado a casa de Fenton y Gyro por petición de ellos; aunque en su cuerpo sólo había cansancio y dolor ocasional, en realidad su movilidad era casi total. En ese tiempo se volvió muy cercana a Gyro, pasaron horas hablando de sus experiencias de vida, de sus matrimonios, revisitando primeras impresiones y compartiendo la cocina y sus secretos. María trató a Gyro como otro hijo, aunque ella tampoco gozaba de plenitud, sus días malos eran menos que los del gallo. Fenton era feliz de que dos de sus seres amados hubieran desarrollado un lazo más estrecho, y Boyd estaba encantado de tener a toda su familia cerca, le recordaba a la estructura en la mansión de McDuck.

La madrugada en que ella partió fue un agridulce sentimiento. Fenton despertó con su perfume inundándolo, corrió a la habitación  donde ella dormía pero no pudo entrar hasta que su esposo e hijo le acompañaron. La muerte entró silenciosa y se la llevó de la misma manera. María parecía en paz, la noche anterior había recibido un aviso en voz del difunto Sr. Crackshell y se había despedido de todos aunque se negaron a creerle para evadir el sentimiento de despedida.

—Que Dios guíe y acompañe tu alma, mamá— Fenton acomodó las plumas canosas de su cabello antes de besar su frente y pedir un minuto a solas con ella. Toda memoria y emoción posible se agolparon para escapar en forma de llanto desconsolado.

Con el pasar del tiempo la tristeza evolucionó a nostalgia. Su familia sonreía débilmente al escuchar su nombre y narraban historias con cariño. El pato encontró consuelo en la idea de que sus padres estaban unidos ahora en la eternidad después de años de ansias y soledad en el corazón. Este evento amplió la perspectiva de Fenton y Gyro ante la vida, que una vez pasado el impacto tuvieron que sentarse a hablar de temas difíciles.

—La esclerosis no te mata, pero jode la vida. No tengo garantías y hay cosas que quiero hacer antes de que se vuelvan imposibles para mi cuerpo. Además tenemos que hablar de nuestros testamentos inmediatamente, ya pensé en algunas adecuaciones para el mío; y no es mala idea invertir en un plan funerario, el de tu madre nos ahorró muchos trámites.

—Hablas como si fueras a morir mañana, ¿te preocupa eso?

—¿No…? Maldita sea, mírame. Han pasado 10 años y sólo ha progresado. Estoy en una silla de ruedas, voy al baño al menos 20 veces al día y en mi último brote perdí la visión del ojo derecho, ¿¡por qué siempre es el lado derecho!? No importa lo que digan los médicos, yo sé que sólo irá a peor, y es injusto que callen mis preocupaciones con optimismo. ¿Cuánto tiempo vamos a esperar para que pierda la agudeza mental? ¿O mis capacidades del habla? ¿Cuánto hasta que presente problemas sexuales y sea incapaz de complacerte? Entonces seré una carga, y tu mi cuidador.

Hubo un pequeño silencio mientras Gyro reunía esfuerzos para evitar mostrar lágrimas de frustración. Fenton se sintió estúpido, había pasado tanto tiempo preocupándose por mantenerse positivo y buscar soluciones que no se había detenido a pensar en el peor escenario posible o las repercusiones mentales de las que su esposo no hablaba. Para Fenton era sencillo, amaba a Gyro más allá de la razón y las condiciones. Lo amó cuando era unilateral, lo amó aún cuando fue un cretino, lo amó en la primera cita y prometió amarlo hasta el final en sus votos matrimoniales. Cada mañana al verlo a su lado se volvía a enamorar. Acariciar sus plumas, charlar tranquilamente, cocinar para él, darle confort cuando su cuerpo dolía más de lo normal en un día caluroso, todos esos eran momentos en los que se encontraba pensando en lo feliz que le hacía poder estar juntos. A menudo extrañaba su presencia en el laboratorio submarino mientras registraba las horas faltantes para regresar a casa. Siempre pensó que con los años su romanticismo intenso se apaciguaría, que al final esos sentimientos que le quemaban el pecho y le cerraban la garganta serían domados, pero sólo se dirigieron hacia un hombre de cuya esencia dependía como un adicto.

—Amarte es una decisión, Gyro. Una decisión que nunca he dudado tomar— apretó la mano del gallo. — Nuestra relación puede cambiar su expresión, pero no su motivación.

—Si mi discapacidad se vuelve severa, ¿aún me amarás? ¿Amarás a alguien cuyas facultades sean menos que un distante recuerdo de lo fue? ¿Cuánta fatiga puede soportar tu alma bondadosa antes de que también acabe contigo?

—Puede pasar lo que sea, pero seguirás siendo el hombre al que elegí. Reconozco que no podré ser tu cuidador a tiempo completo si te vuelves completamente dependiente, pero entonces podría contratar una enfermera que nos ayude. Quiero hacer tu vida tan feliz como la mía lo es ahora. Estamos juntos en esto, corazón mío, no te traicionaré.

Así como la discusión referente a su diferencia de edad quedó enterrada en el pasado para no volver a tocarse, esta tuvo un curso parecido. Gyro se preguntó si vivir en constante remordimiento era el pago de algún pecado obsceno. Cuando Boyd no estaba preocupado por él, tenía una vida espléndida, se mantuvo siempre cercano a Huey, de quien aprendió mucho sobre relaciones y experiencias humanas que hacían feliz al loro, feliz por sentirse como una persona real. Por su parte, Fenton se convirtió en un excelente líder y destacable científico, a su cargo estaban dos jóvenes pasantes que le respetaban como mentor.

La vida avanzaba mientras él se degeneraba. Silenciosamente empeoró su depresión a pesar de estar rodeado de amor. Esas manos ya no eran las mismas de las que alardeaba por obtener pulcros trabajos de electrónica y robótica. Esa mente que fácilmente podía discernir la diferencia entre un lenguaje de programación alto nivel y un lenguaje de descripción de hardware ahora no podía escribir un pseudocódigo. Las lagunas mentales, el dolor que le provocan los espasmos, la visión doble, los mareos, su habla arrastrada, los problemas de deglución y finalmente estar postrado en cama arrancaron pedazos de él y no había retorno a la felicidad.

Al final su pronóstico fue correcto; la esclerosis múltiple ganó.

Fenton encontró entre viejos archivos de la computadora de escritorio que solía ser de Gyro un archivo con detalles sobre un proyecto, uno entre tantos que no llegó a ver la luz. Se trataba de un exoesqueleto que asoció a un diseño temprano de la armadura de Gizmoduck, pero al verificar fechas era imposible, este databa de antes de la jubilación del gallo. Fenton talló sus ojos para deshacerse de las pocas lágrimas que intentaban formarse. Se excusó con los internos y salió a tomar un respiro. Gyro había trabajado en ese prototipo en secreto previniendo su atrofia muscular, era un dispositivo de apoyo, aunque quizás no el más apropiado para su condición, menos en el estado actual.

Esa mañana llegó tarde al trabajo porque la enfermera se retrasó y se rehusaba a irse y dejarlo solo. Aunque Gyro correspondió a su beso, el brillo en su mirada fue tan efímero, regresando a su habitual tristeza y vacío. Habían sido años difíciles, su esposo había expresado oscuros deseos de muerte con más frecuencia, y aunque Fenton trató de cambiar su visión de la vida era duro admitir que el miedo a perderlo era el enemigo más fuerte contra el que luchaba. Cuando murió su madre fue un proceso orgánico, la edad era respuesta satisfactoria a su desenlace, ¿por qué la posible muerte de Gyro le causaba más conflicto? ¿Prefería ver sufrir a su amado día tras día hasta el colapso?

Vivir no es sólo respirar y amar no es sólo poseer.

—Quiero que apagues mi luz.

Se tomaron de la mano por última vez, en sus dedos entrelazados resaltaban las argollas de matrimonio. Ese beso supo igual que el primero. Inocente, dulce, lleno de amor.

Pronto no hubo dolor, ese cuerpo convertido en prisión fue liberado.

Fenton emprendió el doloroso viaje de regreso solo. Le prometió a Gyro que dolería al principio, cada que cuestionara su decisión recordaría los años de intenso dolor que él vivió, y una vez que se recuperara viviría hasta el momento de reencontrarse.

—Te amo siempre.

Nota: Mis habilidades en el español están oxidadas (not like my English is any better, but oh well) y en su mayoría es un vómito de ideas inspiradas en la canción homónima al título de la banda española Mägo de Oz, que a la par cuenta la historia de María José Carrasco (Q.E.P.D.) y su esposo Ángel Hernández.

Fuerza a todos aquellos que lidian con una enfermedad crónica, tienen derecho a una vida digna.

Gracias por leer, y gracias a mi esposa platónica por apoyarme con la idea.

[scientia-rex]

I honestly kind of hate my job today. I had to work with a different MA and although she is nice she is simply not as good at her job as my usual MA, so I made a couple of really boneheaded errors and had to get a bunch of shit myself which slowed me down. I had a failed attempt at draining a subungual hematoma even though I warned her it was probably already coagulated. I had my worst patient, who seems to come in just to fuck with me. I’m not kidding, by the way. Behavioral Health also sees them and concur. My boss gave me shit about masking. I had a sinus headache. I got more messages from the clinic manager, which is just always universally bad. I had leftover notes from yesterday bc I left early for a talk on wound care (hosted by a pharma rep; dazzlingly beautiful and intelligent, and I kept thinking all the way through, how do you feel about the commodification of your face and body in the service of a mega-corporation? but I ate the dinner anyway). I had my most complicated patient, who is staying with her abusive husband because she’s on hospice and she can’t afford other forms of end of life care. She can barely afford the medication to end her life—the cheapest source around here is still 700 bucks. To commit physician-assisted suicide. They’ve stopped calling it that and gone through all kinds of names, but that’s still what it is: I put the drugs in their hands and tell them how to take the drugs so they die as comfortably as possible. And I believe that it is ethical, but I also believe it is much less necessary than I used to think, because transitioning to comfort care in a hospital where you have the option of patient-controlled analgesia is the way to go. Her body is failing more every time I see her. The agony is constant. I saw a patient who cries every time I see them about how their children don't love them.

I want so much more for both myself and the world.

[swagging-back-to]

literally the only reason i didnt hang myself in the psych ward bathroom or put a wash cloth over the drain and drown myself or drink the ink from my sharpie markers is because i didnt want them to remove the doors for the next person and take away even more of their freedom and privacy

[theharellan]

[ approval ] - asking Inara to kill him

Approval Meme | Selectively Accepting Mind the tags on this one!

He had cut himself in the effort to wrest the dagger from her grasp, tucking his wounded hand against his side as his other examines Ian for injury.

There is a listless look in his eyes, a familiar dullness as the realisation that death had been thwarted settles,and that now he must face the endless march of tomorrows.

Solas nearly apologises, seeing it. Knowing it. The smile of a knife is never brighter than in the darkness Ian lives in. He had tested water, himself, drowning in the rivers which flowed from the mountains that made him. Yet when his lungs strained to bursting, when the dark depths clouded his eyes, he emerged gasping. Sucking down breaths he'd tried to strangle.

And no one had ever loved him so cruelly enough to hold him down.

His mind skates past the anger he harbours towards the Warden. Touch it, and he loses sight of what's before him:

Ian is here, he is whole, even if he might believe himself broken.

Solas sweeps a wing of a curl from his face, and nurses a kiss against the side of his temple.

In his undeaths, in his rebirths, he had always emerged alone. And he realises, in his failings, he does not know what to say. He wonders numbly if Ian might hate him, as he hated himself for his own failures.

"There are other answers, Vhenan," he murmurs. "We will find them together. Ar dirthavaren."

Solas greatly disapproves, but does not hate Ian for it.

[cartoonscientist]

call me a hippie dippie bleeding heart socialist but I think if we’re willing to try assisted suicide to deal with mental illness without trying just giving people money so they don’t have to work first, I think that’s kind of evil. but that’s just me.

[thestarlightforge]

This morning, I’m thinking about how when Canada designed their medically assisted suicide laws, they didn’t do so with terminally ill people desiring hospice in mind, but rather because they are aware of the poor quality of life the West’s piss-poor anti-discrimination laws afford disabled people, and they would rather just kill us—and disguise it as a “kindness”—than even think about improving things

[quietwingsinthesky]

whenever i think ‘hey am i doing okay rn’, as long as i can come back with ‘well, im not praying for the devil to come possess me so i don’t have to live anymore’, i think i’m doing okay

[wihltedarchive]

an earlier version of serena had a husband who died like in rp lore and im considering bringing that fact back

[zzedar2]

There's a certain sort of error I often see social conservatives make on end-of-life issues -- I feel like I see this sort of thing more often on the right than on the left, but of course it's always easier to notice faults in your opponents than your allies, so maybe that's all that's going on here.

You get a situation where some people are saying "What this person is going through is a fate worse than death, so it would be kinder to let them die." Social conservatives disagree with this, of course, which is their right, but what always astonishes me is that many don't seem to understand that their opponents see themselves as trying to help the person in question. It's not even that these soc-cons say "They claim to be trying to help this person, but their actual motives are baser." It's that these soc-cons seem to be unaware that the claim is even being made. They just take it so completely for granted that death is always a bad thing that they are unable to imagine a differing viewpoint.

Even when they're trying to be generous, to try to understand and empathize with their opponents, these soc-cons fundamentally assume that we see it in their terms -- as being a conflict between the person in question and those who want that person to die. This leads to a phenomenon where, when no third party stands to gain by this person's death, they just stand around scratching their heads, unable to imagine whose interests we think we're defending.

I remember a long time ago, during the Terri Schiavo case, coming across one soc-con online who was trying to convince the left that we should ally with soc-cons in this case. That person's argument was (paraphrasing) "Well, you're in favor of defending the little person, right? Well, in this case the little person is Terri Schiavo, so you should be defending her against her husband." This person just fundamentally didn't understand that we thought we were defending Terri, against her parents. He thought that the question at issue was whether or not to help her, and just took it so for granted that "helping" her means keeping her alive that he was unable to understand that the real issue was what "helping" meant.

Even when they do understand the "fate worse than death" thing, they often seem to think that means that we think pain is much worse than they do, rather than that we find death less bad.

[kamari2038]

Unusual political post... the MAID (medical aid in dying) situation in Canada

(TLDR skip to links at bottom) This is not a blog where I usually discuss political things, mostly because (1) off-theme for a fandom sideblog and (2) most of you are more politically active and well-educated than I am, so I don't see a need. So I'm just gonna make one singular post about this, not becauase it's the single most pressing issue (ongoing genocide in Gaza, rampant global warming, imminent threats to American democracy, continued LGBT discrimination, etc....) but because I knew absolutely nothing about this, and now that I've heard I'm very upset about it.

I always thought Canada had a great free universal healthcare system, which I think on some level it does. But apparently this is funded in part through cutting costs by encouraging their most underprivileged to end their lives rather than improving their quality of life. I'm not talking about terminally ill patients. They expanded MAID to include those with disabilities, and are soon set to expand it (though thankfully it's been delayed) to both mentally ill people and "mature minors".

I'm not going to back and forth with anyone about whether or not, in theory, this policy could be good if it were applied equitably and with effective safeguards. But that is NOT what is happening in practice (*at least not 100% of the time, exact proportion is difficult to assess, as could be debated what constitutes effective safeguards and/or appropriate circumstances). People with disabilities who are not receiving the care or support necessary for basic quality of life will go to a hospital and be offered as a choice of "care" to simply be euthanized. Meanwhile the government cuts costs and finds MAID subjects in general to be a great source of organ donors.

I'm not really an expert about this but just wanted to call attention to it, these links have more information:

How poverty, not pain, is driving Canadians with disabilities to consider medically-assisted death - National | Globalnews.ca

Quadriplegic Quebec man chooses assisted dying after negligence during a 4-day ER stay leaves horrific bedsore | CBC News

'Disturbing': Experts troubled by Canada’s euthanasia laws | AP News

Who can die? Canada wrestles with euthanasia for the mentally ill (bbc.com)

Assisted suicide in Minnesota? Critics point to Canada as cautionary tale. (startribune.com)

27-Year-Old with Autism and ADHD applies for MAID and her father can't prevent it

Number of assisted deaths jumped more than 30 per cent in 2022, report says | CBC News

About the coming (delayed) expansion of the law:

In Canada, Assisted Death May Soon Be Available for the Mentally Ill - The New York Times (nytimes.com)

Opinion | Canada considers a risky expansion of doctor-assisted euthanasia - The Washington Post

Canada’s assisted dying regime should not be expanded to include children | Opinions | Al Jazeera

Some Motivations (besides autonomy):

Medically assisted deaths could save millions in health care spending: Report | CBC News

Health-care costs in Canada dropped after assisted dying became legal - National | Globalnews.ca

14% of Quebec's organ donors in 2022 were people who chose medically assisted death | CBC News

Who should get your organs? How assisted death raises hard new questions - National | Globalnews.ca

I'll include this more positive one for a balanced perspective, there is some valid discourse about it so I don't want to minimize that:

Slippery Slope Or Wise Demise? The Pros And Cons Of Medically Assisted Dying (forbes.com)

[scara-writes]

sweetheart

Yandere Emperor X Consort! (F)Reader X Yandere Crown Prince(platonic)

милашка-sweetheart according to google correct me if im wrong!

CW: kidnapped, reader is look down upon by the nobles, infantilize, forced pregnancy, dehumanizing, mentions of attempt suicide, false rumor, power imbalance, worshipping, delusional(?)

NOTE: Crown Prince is at the age of 16(he is your first/oldest son). Reader is around 36-38. Emperor is two year younger than the reader. Also I don't speak russian everything is google (the empire is not based on irl russian empire but a fantasy world like the manhwas/shoujou isekai we read) and english is not my first language you can clearly see when you read the story. This is purely a fiction and I do not mean to offend anyone.

I DO NOT CONDONE ANY ACTION IN THIS FICTION.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Running is not ideal for a 5 month pregnant woman like you.

When you tried to seek help from your parents for the first time, they never helped you because who would believe an illegitimate daughter who was frowned upon by nobles.

You are an illegitimate child of the duke and a humble maid who passed away shortly after giving birth, but despite this, you are a physically and mentally healthy child. You even managed to withstand the attempts of your stepmother and your half-sister to discredit you in the family, and didn't even find a help to your neglectful father who busies himself of taking home many women from brothel.

That was in the past but you were desperate when you ask for their assistance. However, you never heard from them ever since you bore your first child, Ize.

Ize your son. Your lovely crown prince son grew up to be like your husband with his teachings. You tried to persuade him to never listen to his father but he only shook his head and told you that all his teaching that he was learning from his old man was to protect you.

Afraid that it will stress you even more in this suffocating high walls to protect you during your pregnancy and well being, Ize-the crown prince would be willing to act like a little kid for you. He would occasionally brew you a cup of tea that you enjoy or give you a handmade gift, such as an embroidered handkerchief, to show you that he was thinking of you and that said skill you taught him when he was a child. Knowing the child, this kind of acts is for him appease the worries you have;he is different behind closed doors of your confined palace where your eyes and ears can't reach; your crown prince son is a different person who will be willing to shed the blood of others just for you.

And it seems that the morals that you taught him must have been thrown out of the window thanks to your husband.

So here you are after escaping from the hundreds gazes of a watchful loyal hounds around your palace you escape, it wasn't easy since you are carrying the emperor's second child. You heard on a passing by servants that the two tyrants had a meeting with the other nobles and the neighboring kingdom, this is a rare occurrence that the two left you alone. It took you an hour to escape the royal grounds before exploring around the town till you found a port that would take you to another country. This is your only chance to escape that suffocating palace that those two tyrants confined you in. Your Husband, Yuri can't leave you alone not when he found out that you are with his child-a second child at that. Even before you were pregnant with his first child, his wary gaze and infantilization to you had multiplied tenfold.

Your husband spread the rumors about you being mentally ill. But why would he do such a thing? You reflected to yourself and it devastate you to realize it was his scheme to prevent you from seeking help from his subjects to escape. Only the royal physician and your husband were aware of this bogus illness. It felt betrayal that he has to make that action so he can confide you more.

Your husband's scheme worked. Even your own son believed the spewing lies coming from his father, and the nobles never gossip about you as if it was a taboo ever since you were married to the emperor. Speaking ill about the emperor's consort was just as good as the reaper visiting you by the second you speak those words. Only praises coming from their filthy mouths were allowed.

No one bats an eye on you, even the servants who serves under you. They will bathe you, serve you food, refreshments, but none of them will engage or start a conversation with you. When someone last made an effort to assist your escape, a kind servant at that. The lowest mining pit, which is worse than death, The emperor bestowed upon them to be sent the servant's family, including the said servant. High ranked criminals labour in a pit there for 18 hours with a maximum 4 hour break the rest of the hour are for necessities like sleeping, with much less food and income. In short, a death torture for them.

You implore your husband to kill them rather than send them there, the only thing he said to you that it wasn't your fault they were sent there. Something along the lines of—"you were acting like this because of your condition. That servant was attempting to kill you." He told you that in front of other servants. Everyone compliments his action for 'protecting' you. His cunning red eyes looks at you that none of the servants and nobles noticed but you did. It was a warning for you to behave or he will do worse.

Yuri has never harmed you, physically. but he will harm others who want to separate you from him.

The only time you regret your decision is when you met Yuri—he was about to meet his demise by the hands of his brothers if it weren't for you stumbling to see him in the middle of the night on an alleyway of the tsvetok village struggling to breathe from the deep pools of his own blood. So you drag his half dead body into your abandoned chamber—which is rarely visited by servants—that your father bestowed for you when you were born. Aiding his deep wounds, helping him heal up, befriending him, falling in love—

You purse your lips and gave a small wince feeling your belly is starting to ache, the kick from your unborn child thumps under your long dress.

My child please, Now is not the time! you gently brush your belly soothingly before leaning on the lamp post that dimly lit the night. You sigh in relief when you felt the baby inside of you cease on kicking. Although you were a little further from the palace when you looked behind you, you still needed to move quickly. Right now, you assume that Yuri or a servant that was suppose to serve you had definitely find out that you were gone this afternoon and notify the knights and some of high ranking mage to find you immediately, but the sun had already been sunk by the evening. They must have been having a hard time finding you. A little more 18 minute walk and you'll be able to ride on the ship that will help you travel to another empire, or any nation.

"ort---s--ing!" you turn to your left to look one of the vendors of the nights were gossiping. A woman with her husband was panting, assuming he was running to deliver a news to his family. His cloth headband on his raggedy hair is soaking. He took a deep breath before repeating what he said earlier. A dread of fear rise from your throat as he uttered his next words,

"The Emperor's Consort is missing! The Emperor's knights are blocking all way out!"

You heart felt like dropping when you saw a nearby knight were looking one by one at the women nearby, specifically women who are similarly pregnant like you. Speaking of the devil, they are already here!

Knights in horses, mages running around the busy street. Some of them stopping women who has similar hair color as you to assess if they found the right person.

"Oh my! I'm hoping the consort is doing okay! She must have acted such way due to her failing mental state. The emperor must have been worried sick, I can't imagine the devastion look of the emperor especially their son!" said the woman to her husband.

You hid your hair with your cape and quickly blend in with the busy road of the night town. Muttering, "excuse me!", "Apologize!" As you force your way around the crowd. One arm around your belly to protect child, while your hand went to sling your bag with clothes and some gold coins. as you bump so many people on the crowd. You look edges of the town, at the gate, to see all the possible exits were starting to get block by the imperials knights and mages. You bit your lips frustration as you felt the hope of getting your freedom back is slipping away from your grasp.

Your plan of getting to the port has been discarded after seeing a two mage and three knights were on their way there. Even if you did go in town's gate the gatekeepers will inspect people who are exiting and entering.

But...

You look at the old man who was riding a donkey with his carriage towards to exit of the gate, fruits were laying under the cloth. An Idea quickly pop your head but you are desperate to leave this suffocating country so you have no choice but to execute it.

Your silent foot falls went behind on a slow moving carriage before climbing up silently and quickly, in your haste and desperation movement, you didn't feel as though you had torn your cape at the wooden edge of the carriage before taking the fabric that was covering the fruits that keeps them from dust and dirt. You carried a handful of fruits before slowly sitting down beside it then covering yourself with the said fabric and the remaining fruit fast enough before the knights from the gate of this region would notice you. You wince when one of the fruit hit your belly but not enough to endanger the baby.

"Have you seen this lady?" A man in his mid 60s look at the paper, he squint his eyes as he held his old lightly crack glasses to take a better look. Your (e/c) eyes look at the gapping hole of the carriage and gulp fearfully when you saw your portrait on the paper holding by the imperial knight.

"O-oh...sa-aw her!" you held your breath when the old man spoke. The two knights look at each other before listening to the next word of what the old man would say.

He lick his dry lips before continuing, his voice's struggling due to his old age, "If I-Im..not mistake-en the lady in the p-picture look like the lady I saw by the lampost o..on the rozahk street!"

You exhaled in relief since you mistakenly believed that the elderly man had just seen you, but he actually noticed you five minutes' walk from the gate to roza street. However, this would also let them know that you are actually close by.

The imperial knights gave the elderly merchant a nod as they hastily walked around the city, alerting a nearby mage to use a spell to track you. They quickly tell their subordinates for a new command.

You felt the carriage starts to move. Hugging yourself for reassurance especially at your upcoming baby that everything will be okay.

You weren't escaping just for yourself but for your second child that will be born. You don't want your kid to become like their older brother and learn from their father. Ruthless, and doesn't have a compassion to another human. You want your kid to have a brighter future, away from the blood shed. You hope that if you got caught or killed by your husband in the future. You will tell your second child to run away and never look back, when you are gone.

You ignored how uncomfortable it was to sleep in the fruits. You close your eyes and see the farm neighborhood that the carriage passed as well as the slowly dissipating kingdom that was beginning to appear as a dot on the horizon.

The abrupt shake of your ride woken you up. You hear noises outside the carriage and glance through the hole to see that light was creeping through, signaling that it was dawn but sun has yet to come in the horizon. What is happening?. You peek above the cloth seeing that you don't have enough visual on what's happening. A dusty road lay in front of you, and woods surrounded you. You turn around to look behind you and realize that the palace is no longer in sight. A sense of relief that you were indeed far from that prison.

A bunch of voices caught your ears, you turned to look to your right.

Your whole body went pale.

Your son-the crown prince was chatting with each of the roadside merchants who had just exited from their vehicle not far from where you were. The imperial warriors and mages that were conversing with the other sellers the same task as your son was doing just behind him.

You curse yourself, how did they come here to fast?

You need to leave before they notice that you are inside this carriage. Just as you swiftly escape your imprisonment. You carefully stood up, removing the fabric that was covering you and the fruits, ignoring the woozy and aches from your muscle pain for not moving too much from the entire night.

A creak was heard in your vehicle when you tried to climb down. Snapping your eyes back at them, to witness if they heard the mistake you made. To your relief, The prince and the other guards were still busy interrogating.

They didn't hear me..

You reach down and starts to stalk away from them, your hands were trembling. Stepping back to reach the wood just a 5 meters behind you. It didn't matter if you get lost in the woods, as long as they don't catch you.

No, you would rather live in a woods, in a forest where no one can reach you.

As you step forward carefully in to the woods, you didn't notice from your cautious and anxious state that your boots crack a twig, just like the cliché you previously read. The nearest knight snaps his head at the sound. He was perplexed before realizing that the woman from the paper in his hand resembles you.

"Her majes-"

You dash toward the woods. The imperial knights sought to catch up to you, as you heard him behind. You grab a nearby rock and shot it directly to his skull, and it hits him.

You ignored the yelp as he yells your honorific causing the nearby knights hear him and went for his aid, before they realize what he was yelling and starts to chase after you.

You felt the dress that was getting stuck on some of bushes and dried branches, resulting to have your dress to be ripped.

Heartbeat were thumping agressively, adrenaline were rushing around your body. One of your hands went up to your belly protecting it from getting injured despite your legs were now full of scratches and bruises from the twigs, and sharp edges of these woods. You feel your legs ache.

"Mother!" You faintly hear a galloping horses along with your son's voice behind you.

Your mistake was to look behind you while running away. You saw how your son and his guards were starting to gain just to bring you back to that hellhole. Your son Ize was reaching up his hand to take you back, his red orbs were full of concern and anxiousness.

"Mother! It's me,Ize! Please, slow down you will hurt yourself!"he yelled."Mother! Think about my sibling! Your child! Listen to me! Don't let this illness take over you!"

Poor child, he thought all of this nonsense that you are doing was because of your bogus illness.

You were about to stop when you saw a nearby cliff but a trunk made you tripped.

You screamed feeling a misstep when you realized you are falling, instinctively cradling your pregnant belly, protecting it as you roll down from the ground. A piercing scream was heard—from your son. Your head colliding to the three and it felt like your head would split open.

Your eyes were blurry from the impact. Touching your belly if there was injury. Atleast trying to feel your lower part if there was bleeding through your thighs other than your legs.

You look up at the steep cliff to see your son was sliding down, crying out your title as his mother. You saw his red orbs were full of tears as it glides down to his cheeks. The last thing you saw before your vision was consumed by the darkness was his hands reaching up to your head.

You were awoken by the sound of the chirping birds coming from the balcony.

You coughed, feeling the dryness from your throat. You eyes were blurry for a few minutes before clearing to see that you were back to the same imprisonment.

But....

It wasn't the same room you shared with your husband. Are you...even in the palace?

You took your time to assess your surroundings only to realize that the room has similarities of the royalties room that are exiled but it looked renovated, one of your husband's brothers used to live here before taking his own life. You felt grim about the thought of it.

After his brother's passing you heard from one of the maids that he turned it into a vacation palace for royalties.

It was different from the last time you saw it. It was much more cleaner and better. It looked good after it was renovated.

Wait, the baby.

THE BABY!

You eyes quickly gaze down to your belly. Hands quickly feeling around them, you exhale in relief when you felt a small kick from your stomach. You felt your tears at the edge of your eyes. It was a miracle that the heavens hadn't take your unborn child away.

I'm sorry baby...

They would have died from the stupidity you'd done!

You laid down to your right side of the bed and cradle in your stomach muttering a soft apologies and starts fluttering your eyes to go back to sleep.

But somethings not right. You felt like a pair of eyes watching you, looking at you.

Observing you.

You opened your eyes and look up only to see your pair of red eyes staring down at you.

Your husband, the emperor sitting on a wingback couch, his face resting at his hand while the elbow is resting at the arm of the couch beside him is a kettle with a cup that rest on top of the bedside table.

You feel your body tense up, you tried to get up and turn to look at your husband.

"Y-your majesty." You called but it sounded like a whisper. You don't know what he will do to you. Sure, he never hurt you physically but this is the first time you'd gotten far away from the place he imprison you in.

You gulped, will he hurt you this time?

"I-I'm... I.." you cannot come up a word,an excuse, what if he gets sick of you? What would happen to your child?

You felt your breath shorten. Tears are starting to swell up in your cheeks.

A rough hand brush on your cheeks before cupping it. You found your partner is already beside you on the bed.

He didn't speak he just let you weep as he brush away your tears. You stammer your words wanting to apologize. The emperor handed you a cup of water and you took it quenching the thirst from your larynx.

Once you drank it all, you hiccup trying to stop your tears from coming out. You felt his hands caressing your belly. "H-husband.."you gulped.

"hush,милашка."he commanded and you held your tongue and closed your eyes when he leans on your cheeks before engulfing you with his arms around you. You felt suffocating around him like a snake coiling around your body.

You feel tensed as he starts peppering kisses on your shoulders and neck before resting his lips to your earlobes, you shudder when he kissed it.

His right hand from your waist slid up under your loose sleeve before sliding it down, your emperor leaned down giving your shoulder a hickey. You whimpered trying to push him away but he hadn't budge an inch. Once he was satisfied he let your skin go with a pop before looking at the red mark he left.

The same hand went to brush your hair, tuck it behind your ear before leaning his forehead against yours. His red eyes held adoration, affection, but most of all obsession.

"милашка." He muttered closing his eyes sighing, he brush his lips against yours before deepening it.

He kept calling you, held you in his arms gently. The same arms that has full of blood that slay so many heads to get to the top of this food chain.

He laid you down before kissing every finger tips of yours and then clasping it with his rough hands as he called for you.

"милашка...."

".... my милашка..."

He pressed one kiss on your collarbone. "None of this is your fault..." He told you.

"... This illness will be the death of you."

Your heart broke for him. He really delude himself that everything you did to get away from him was because of your 'illness'.

"... Everything will be fine, darling. I will take care of you." He dampened his lips one last time onto your lips before leaving you in your new confinement.

[the-alice-of-hearts]

Okay, so I just had a post blazed to me about suicide. Well that is kinda what the post is about. The poster is recounting an issue they faced recently and mentioned that they had been searched and found to be in the possession of sodium nitrate which is apparently the new method for these things. They are complaining about the way that they were found out and that their SN was taken away.

I didn’t understand the post at first. Because they only referred to the SN using its abbreviation and referred to assisted suicide as “helping self-checkout”. The whole post left a bad taste in my mouth and I clicked on the comments to see what was going on. Once I saw that SN meant sodium nitrate I realised that “self-checkout” was their way to say suicide.

This was a BLAZED post! They used this way to say these things so that their post could be blazed! And I can only partially blame tumblr for accepting this because it took me a moment to figure out what the hell they were talking about.

But also Tumblr, you have got to have someone checking the content of posts better. Because there is no reason that a post about suicide should be blazed.

[thebreakfastgenie]

That's kind of an entirely separate ethical argument. Suicide prevention is one reason I support gun control. It's not the only one. I've already had one suicide debate today so I'm good.

trans people are going to be targeted and disarmed for the specific purpose of making it easier for them to be targeted for violence and idiot libs will clap along like the moronic circus seals they are because "yaaaay gun control 🤤"

[whatdoeschronicevenmean]

why is assisted suicide seen as a medical issue? and why does it need to be done by medical professionals? not everyone who kills themselves is depressed nor mentally ill nor chronically ill; nor vice versa. there’s not always a medical reason behind suicide. i guess in america (and canada) suicide is seen culturally so synonymously with depression it’s hard to imagine people killing themselves when not depressed (outside seppuku).

it’s telling that someone who wants to die for non medical reasons - financial, familial, social, etc - is not seen as somebody who has a valid enough reason to kill themselves. i think this is a good thing.

that being said, the flip side of this is that chronic pain is linked more and more to suicidality. this personally hurts my feelings. in my medical school cohort, suicidality was seen as inevitable when one has enough chronic pain. we were told that this assumption led to doctors assuming automatically that patients with chronic pain had a worse quality of life and therefore chronic pain patients were given worse care + lower prioritization in the ER, because why give the patient who’s going to kill themself anyway good care? when the lecturer told us that actually most chronic pain patients were not suicidal, the whole cohort was in an uproar, unable to believe it.

i think there’s a chicken-egg thing going on here. the more doctors talk about assisted suicide, the more they associate chronic pain/illness with suicidality, the more they associate it with hopelessness, the more they associate it with suicide, we continue to get worse care, we continue to be suicidal, we continue to ask for assisted suicide. but again - why does assisted suicide need to be associated with doctors at all? culturally, do we want to redefine doctor/provider further away from healer and closer to necropolitical bureaucrat?

[catatombi]

beware of fang

Hey, im gonna say it outright and state that this is a call out. people get called out for being dangerous. fangs nearly pushed 3 people to commit suicide(including myself) and i had to be hospitalized because of him, so this feels justified. Im sorry if you disagree, ill keep it short and to the point If you’ve been a long time follower of his im sure you’ve seen his vague posts about his ex friends, the cotl tumblr community and “fandom drama” with little to no context behind it, other than various people appearing on his DNI. his vague nature in the posts is intentional, he doesn't want to let on that he was abusing his friends. Ive tried time and time again to write something but it never seemed right, like what he’s done to me and my friends wasn’t severe enough to warrant something like this, but it is and i don't want to let this go any longer, esp not when he has my friends, their names, usernames and literal contact information in his DNI list Over the last year ive been friends with fang hes been horrible. Hes never changed and refuses to acknowledge what hes done to his friends and how horribly he has hurt them, to keep this short im keeping this bullet pointy Here is his carrd, he has everything neatly outlined for yall to block on every platform Dont harass, dont contact. all of this is public information so https://web.archive.org/web/20240713073710/https://fanged-info.carrd.co/#boundaries

https://fanged-info.carrd.co/ Twit: FFANGEDD / narilamb_ / mewhenimsilly Insta: ffangedd / narilamb Tumblr: ffangedd / fanged-cotl / fanged-xeno Cara: narilamb Blusky: fanged / narilamb Itaku: fanged Artfight: FANGED Toyhouse: FFANGEDD Sheezy: fanged Discord & telegram: narilamb All the people mentioned have given consent Cw !!! abuse, suicide, self harm https://drive.google.com/drive/u/2/folders/1MLMOT-qvgrX-9NnUEgpl4AkEPfixy2wG

The drive is a bit out of date, as I logged it all before april. Hes posted more awful shit and vented to me again since then Feel free to request the letter i wrote to him, i might share it anyway because it sums up my thoughts on the matter If you want any additional context feel free to ask

Fang uses suicide and self harm threats to control and manipulate his friends, hes begged me for assisted suicide and when i refused to help him commit he begged in groupchats. He begged on instagram stories as well as twitter, so much so that his twitter for suspended for 12 hours. He has admitted to wanting someone to commit suicide with him and has previously formed suicide pacts and nearly followed through on one with a friend. fang backed out first. he continues to redirect blame. refusing to take accountability for his actions. He still blames his previous medications, his ex psychiatrist, his self diagnosed BPD & OCD, psychosis, and states of beings from disorders he doesn't have (claiming to be manic or sociopathic whilst not having bipolar1 or ASPD) fang blames his (ex)friends, claiming they were projecting their mental illness onto him when they were just reacting to his abuse, that they the ones in the wrong and that how they treated him/cut him off was vile and unfair, and believes that he never got real closure when he did. it just wasn't what he wanted to hear and now feels entitled to an apology from these people when all he’s ever done is traumatize and terrorize them. He describes the amount in which he has cut over pavi, wart and kat because what they put him through and how they traumatized him. The traumatizing actions were: Kat asking for a content warning, pavi didn't want to walk on eggshells anymore and blocked him without an explanation & wart blocked him after being emotionally abused for months Hes described how he would carve their names into his thigh and told me that he will carve my name into his skin when i leave too. He demanded wart and surf choose their “real friends” and cut off their community for him because fang hated that they were being “two-faced” and hanging out with “people who hate him” He would spend hours venting relentlessly and graphically in his friends DMs, demanding their time and attention and expecting immediate replies. His friends are not professionals and shouldnt be expected to be an on-call DIY therapist for him, for hours, without consent. Fang has said he is completely unwilling to self censor for other peoples safety fang has vented to a 13 year old (they were not hiding their age) He referred to me (and our friends) as a phone person, a voice, icons. Concepts he can talk. Completely dehumanizing everyone that cared about him even to their faces. He blames his ex friends for his poor mental health and has said he wishes they watched him commit suicide, he wanted his friends to be traumatized from this (as if they werent already.) When a friend posted a screenshot of a gamenight to tumblr he had a breakdown so severe and so dangerous for so long that several of his friends has to mute the DM to keep themselves safe from his verbal abuse and suicide/SH threats He doesn't care about how triggering any of this can be for someone and will subject anyone (including people in danger) to his “venting” He didnt care about triggering me and contacted me at the worst of my suicidality in january and exasperated the danger i was in so severely I had to be hospitalized against my will before I could commit suicide. 

Im honestly not entirely sure what to even think. he knew the severity of my suicidality. he knew I had been hospitalized for an attempt in 2022, and still he chose me, probably the most vulnerable of his friends at the time to vent that heavily too back in janurary Hes a dangerous selfish person whos proven over and over that hes not getting better and isnt willing to change, i honestly had hope when he slowed down his graphic vent posts and victim blaming on twitter and insta but he decided to say fuck all and get right back into his shit train of shame and misery. Heres a link to all of the screenshot, damning ones are in important bitz if you’re not interested in going through them all https://drive.google.com/drive/u/2/folders/1MLMOT-qvgrX-9NnUEgpl4AkEPfixy2wG in these screens alone he: admits to sending his cuts to his friends, threatens to cut if i leave, admits that he was going to go through with a duel suicide and begged me for assisted suicide

warts screenshots v

full screenshots & complete context in the drive as for him claims that i was stalking him: i was scared, i was his friend. i tried so hard to be good enough and never was. the screens were a by product of confiding in my friends about what was happening and the drive was made to share w/ them i admit i prolly shouldve combed out some of it but, ykno also big phat apology for tagging cotl!!!!! only did bc fang has, please stay safe everyone, and thank you so much if you have read everything (the doc encase anyone was wanting it ! figured i;d just use tumblr regular posting method) https://docs.google.com/document/d/17QjXUEdQVd8c4GZS--vPo-xR3kgmoLl4ZmN3ROMutg0/edit?usp=sharing

edit as of 8:30pm 7/17/24 here is a link to pavi's response warts response and kats response