#death idealization tw

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

The Bronx Zoo has just released Flaco's necropsy results.

He was not thriving, as the people championing the ideal of "freedom" claimed.

He was poisoned.

He was sick.

He was suffering.

"Freedom" would have eventually killed him. A building just happened to do it first.

"Postmortem testing has been completed for Flaco, the Eurasian eagle owl that was found down in the courtyard of a Manhattan building a little over a year after his enclosure at the Central Park Zoo was vandalized on February 2, 2023. Onlookers reported that Flaco had flown into a building on the Upper West Side of Manhattan on February 23, 2024, and acute trauma was found at necropsy. Bronx Zoo veterinary pathologists determined that in addition to the traumatic injuries, Flaco had two significant underlying conditions. He had a severe pigeon herpesvirus from eating feral pigeons that had become part of his diet, and exposure to four different anticoagulant rodenticides that are commonly used for rat control in New York City. These factors would have been debilitating and ultimately fatal, even without a traumatic injury, and may have predisposed him to flying into or falling from the building. The identified herpesvirus can be carried by healthy pigeons but may cause fatal disease in birds of prey including owls infected by eating pigeons. This virus has been previously found in New York City pigeons and owls. In Flaco’s case, the viral infection caused severe tissue damage and inflammation in many organs, including the spleen, liver, gastrointestinal tract, bone marrow, and brain.   No other contributing factors were identified through the extensive testing that was performed. Flaco’s severe illness and death are ultimately attributed to a combination of factors—infectious disease, toxin exposures, and traumatic injuries—that underscore the hazards faced by wild birds, especially in an urban setting."

The naturalistic fallacy kills animals in horrible ways. The romanticism of what humans want to think of as a "free, wild, pure life" cannot be allowed supplant the reality of injury, sickness, and death. Releasing captive animals (or keeping them from being recaptured) because it's "better" for them to suffer untethered than live a healthy, safe, captive life is inhumane and horrific.

Flaco's life didn't have to end in pain, sickness, and suffering.

Flaco's death didn't have to be tragic.

But once the idea of "freedom" entered the chat, Flaco's fate was unavoidable.

[starlitwishes]

Well… he was given the choice in the end, but with how concerned Tighnari seemed, it didn’t really feel like an option at all. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt or worry Tighnari…

Yet as he tried to think of what to say, he fumbled. ‘It was just a joke,’ was just a lie. ‘I didn’t think they would actually try to hurt me or anything,’ was just an excuse. The more Wrenn tried to think of what to say, the more his words failed him.

So he bowed his head, ashamed.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted quietly. “I’m sorry. I won’t say things like that again.”

"I'll give you the option. You know I have no desire to force you into situations in which you're uncomfortable. At the very least, I'll make some tea," he stood up and crossed the small space, ears still listening intently for his response.

[kizzer55555]

Haunted Streets

There’s a ghost on the Gotham streets. It’s been a long time since he came here yet no one has noticed. He stays out of the way for the most part. Just a shade. He looks to be somewhere in his 20s. The funny thing is. Only villains and crooks ever seem to be able to catch a glimpse of him. He doesn’t attack. He doesn’t try to interfere with their work. He’s just there. But he’ll listen if they need someone to talk to.

There’s something in his eyes. Something sad. But he never looks at the rogues with anything less than respect. No fear, no disgust, no pity. Just…understanding.

It’s almost therapeutic to talk to him. He never dismisses someone’s ideas as crazy. And he’ll even offer suggestions. The villains don’t know if he just stopped caring for those around him or if he had that much confidence batman would stop any fatalities. They know injuries bother him (if they stop targeting people as much, no one says anything). But he’s one of the few people who will sit and listen to them rant. Whether it’s grieving a lost wife frozen in ice and missing her, rambling about various new riddles and traps they want to use, complaining about the current society and their views on metas, or even just venting about a bad breakup. He’ll always listen.

Sometimes all anyone needs is a hug. Especially when no one wants to hug a 10ft crocodile. But the ghost has no reservations. His hugs are the only time he’s warm.

Eventually, all the villains of Gotham (and some beyond) have a silent solidarity when it comes to this ghost. They don:t talk about him to others. They give his frequent haunting places wide birth in their attacks, they give a rundown to their henchmen on what is and is not ok to ask him if they ever meet the ghost. And they never interrupt if someone is already speaking with him (unless the ghost drags them into the conversation because they need a hug too.)

[lloydfrontera]

i don't buy that lloyd would get over his fear of the restoration of fate that quickly. he was doomed by the narrative for years and now he's supposed to shake it off in less than two weeks? absolutely not, he literally tried to kill himself in order to avoid it, ain't no fucking way he just stopped being scared about it in a couple days i don't believe it

anyway. this is my way of saying that lloyd refused to cross dimensions until he made javier swear that he would kill him with his own hands if there was even a hint of the restoration of fate starting up again. he wouldn't consider going back if it meant putting his family and home in danger again even if it meant being left behind in a place he would've rather died than stay at.

and they both know that javier would fall on his own sword before hurting lloyd but they also know lloyd would take his own life before allowing him to do that or to let his existence put his loved ones in danger again. they know lloyd doesn't really need javier to kill himself, not if he's really committed to it. he's done it before it after all.

him asking javier this is. a warning. of what he's planning to do if the restoration of fate starts again. it's his way of telling javier that he cannot promise things will be okay if he comes back. that he must be ready to lose lloyd again if necessary because lloyd won't allow anything else.

it's also maybe... an indulgence on lloyd's part. he's felt himself die so many times now. and so many of his deaths were painful or terrifying or surrounded by his enemies and sometimes all three at once.

but he remembers a sunset, a coat over his shoulders, shaky yet reliable hands holding a sword. a quick, peaceful death on his own terms, done by someone lloyd trusted with something far more important than his life.

and he knows it's selfish, he knows it's cruel, but if he has to die, for real this time, can't it be at the hands of his best friend? if he has to be killed, can't it be done by someone lloyd knows cares for him? if he has to close his eyes and never open them again, can't the last thing he ever sees be the face of the person he loves enough to die for as many times as necessary?

and javier agrees because. what else can he do. he spent so long hoping lloyd would finally trust him enough to tell him what he was planning so javier could help him in anyway he was able to and now. now lloyd is asking this of him.

he desperately doesn't want to say 'yes'. but he cannot say 'no'.

what else can he do.

what's the point of being the most powerful human on the world if he can't even protect the one person he swore to protect above all things. what's the point of him if the only thing he can do is promise to kill his best friend because he has no other way to protect everything they've worked for.

how can he promise lloyd that everything will be okay, that things will work out, that if needed javier will die for him before letting anything happen to him, when he already failed before.

what else can he do

anyway. i don't think any amount of end spoilers and confessions to the jewel of truth are enough to soothe the terrified, paranoid and utterly traumatized part inside lloyd's chest that goes tight any time anything goes even remotely wrong for a good while. it takes a couple months, maybe a few years even, before lloyd stops going cold every time there's even a hint of trouble around him. before he stops reflexively looking to javier's sword to calm himself down whenever things don't go perfectly right in every way.

it takes a while. but it does happen. and things aren't perfect, that's not how life works, but they're good and even when they aren't, lloyd can finally face them and believe they're not his fault. that his existence is not an obstacle for the happiness of the people he loves.

[citylighten]

Let's Talk Lost Love

(aka how Zoe ends up with Michael)

Abhijit and Zoe grew up knowing each other due to their mother’s close friendship, but they were not close. For college, he moved to Del Sol Valley with aspirations to become an actor, however, this was an experience he largely failed in. He relocated back to San Myshuno after a few years, and began to work as a copywriter at an advertising agency. This is when he and Zoe reunite and mutually find one another attractive.  They felt a sense of understanding with one another. Zoe was a recent college dropout who had disappointed her parents for being aimless, and Abhijit could never get his mother’s approval. The two accepted each other for who they were (mostly. Zoe often picked on him for having a new personality influenced by Del Sol Valley) In due time they began living with each other. This went on for three or four years: he was her first big love, her first time, he was her everything and everyone knew it. Like, it was clear that any day he would propose to her. They had already reached a point where they (playfully) discussed having kids. Then one night, Zoe begged him to go to the local corner store to pick up some candy for her, and he didn’t come home. He died. Zoe underwent deep despair, she sincerely wanted to die, she couldn’t wrap her mind around how he was gone so easily. She wouldn’t leave her apartment. She blamed herself for wanting a stupid candy bar. Then she decided to leave the city and become a van-lifer. Her parents and friends all disapproved and thought this was a radical shift, but Zoe kept insisting she was fine and something she always wanted to do. But you know, this was really just a means for her to run away from home and avoid the past.

She gets some spontaneous tattoos, travels place to place having misadventures and uncomfortable experiences. She acts happy but her mental health is in the gutter. It's not uncommon for her to look over Abhi's social media pages and just grieve the fact he wasn't even thirty.

She meets Mitchell, J, and Gavin but despite two of these men being attracted to her, Zoe has no interest in romance or sex. Not much later, she meets Michael who was the first guy she was really into in a long while. The minute she saw Michael’s eyes and smile she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time. She grew close to him and loved that he had a similar adventurous spirit. She couldn't help but chase the feeling she felt with him. Then of course, in less than a year she has little Rohan. 

But sometimes, she was still thinking of Abhijit. Sometimes when mad at Michael this early in their parenthood journey she would have an intrusive thought like, “Rohan should be Abhi’s son” or sometimes it would simply cross her mind, “I wonder how my kids with him would’ve looked.” However, as she and Michael grew together with their family, the more deep her love for Michael became. She realized her heart had enough space for new experiences, loves, and memories.  

The downside of this? One of Zoe's worst fears is Michael not coming home one night. Her worst fear is outliving him because at the moment she doesn’t know how she’d cope with losing her husband. She’s able to go back to the Spice District. She’s able to talk to Lavina, but looking at Rahul? That’s nearly impossible.

Now as for Mayor Chopra, she's still haunted by Abhi's death because she knows her parenting was riddled with errors, and she pities the pain Zoe went through. So when she sees Rohan and Kiara in the Spice District this winter she's thinking: "those could've been my grandchildren if things were different."

When Rohan's a teen and works as the mayor's protege, Lavina lets this slip. But that's another tale for another day.

[starlitwishes]

“Hmph… don’t make promises you won’t keep.”

But Lumine continued, and Wrenn only huffed—what naive sentiments she was giving him… so he swatted away her hand, and crossed his arms.

“I’ve seen enough of this world, thank you.” He averted his gaze. “And don’t misunderstand me. Eternal life is a curse, not a blessing. I think I’ve been alive long enough, that’s all.”

"..."

She shook her head in response, placing one hand on his shoulder.

"I won't kill you." The tone of her voice was stern. "Instead of looking for someone who can end your life, why not search for reasons to live instead? Along the way, you may discover that this World is much more beautiful than you originally thought."

[shadyvoidhologram]

I was laying in bed overthinking, as you do, and started to go on a depressive doom spiral. And then, to distract myself I started thinking about the things I like.

[Spoilers and some gross details incoming, you know what Mouthwashing is about]

So, eventually I started thinking about Curly being in a similar headspace as I was, laying down, incapable of doing anything, constantly in pain and hearing time and time again how quickly things are going to shit and that it's all your fault.

Him replaying his mistakes over and over on his head, imagining the many ways things could've gone a different way if only he had done something instead of ignoring the issues to "keep the peace".

Remembering every interaction that led to the accident, Anya's confession, his friends poorly disguised resentment, him ignoring and filtering details of his crew's mental state, her taking the gun, the notice, Jimmy.

Him being a coward and disguising his hate of confrontation with the guise of being a good friend.

And then comming back to reality, to is burning flesh. To the blood, shit and bile staining the bandages, robe and bed, to watching and hearing his friends suffer and die, unable to do anything.

When the kid dies, in the midst of all the emotional chaos, he feels some sick sense of relief knowing that probably Swansea will deal with both of them quickly and it'll be over at last.

Then Jimmy finds the gun.

And he can't help but laugh. He remembers the conversation they had and he cackles bitterly because not even in death can her wishes be respected. She trusted him and he failed her even after she was gone.

Soon enough it's just the two of them left.

Through muffled ears he hears Jimmy rambling, talking to himself, asking questions and answering right after, he sees him moving the bodies around. When Jimmy carries him from the infirmary to the common room table he's still as stone, not a sound leaves his mouth, he doesn't look at the bodies thrown on the chairs around the table, he doesn't even breathe.

But all of Jimmy's attention, hatred, idolatry, and envy are on him only. Eyes glossy, cut pieces of a one sided conversation and a tentative smile on his lips when he reaches for the slightly dented knife.

He screams until his lungs close and his throat burns. When he's fed parts of himself he cries and throws up until he is forced to swallow and keep it down.

He's dehidrated, half delirious from the blood loss and emotionally checked out when Jimmy picks him up and tells him they can still fix this, he knows what to do. That he's going home.

Sure, he thinks, he wants to go home.

When he's placed on the cryopod he just stares at Jimmy talk to himself at him some more, about being heroes and everything being all right now. Then he steps out of sight.

It's on the silence after the loud bang when his brain starts working again, he's completely and utterly alone on a crashed ship of a company that's closing it's doors, with a now depleted shipment that wasn't even important enough to guarantee a search party, and no way of fending for himself in the case of 20 years passing and no one coming, even less if the power gave out before that.

As the cryopod finally starts to cool, the few tears he has left fall from his remaining eye.

He hopes he doesn't wake up to see what happens next.

..ok see y'all when I wake up-

[yippie-madness]

tempted to put "anti recovery" in my bio to piss all the "pro recovery" people and anti sh/ed community people

[grimst4rs]

this is my brother and i need a shovel to love him,

and if tearing my ribcage open and letting him see that i, too, am human, if letting him gnaw at my heart, if letting him see me as i am, of a vulnerability that he never imagined of me, will make him look into my eyes and grin a smile that i almost forgot, then so be it.

and if my murder, my death, is what brings us together, then so be it. may he kneel against my lonely grave and press his warm body against my cold headstone, the fine thin line between death and life. may death unite us, once and for all, and maybe then we will be brothers again.

he is half of my soul, as the poets would say,

but one half of my soul is rotten. it starts with obedience and distance, and with a need for love that no one will give us. our home is cold; our souls are warm. in a home of the dark, few want to see the light; i did, and he stayed in the shadows where, seemingly, he belonged oh, so well.

but one half of my soul is dead. may i never know what brought the sleep of forever upon him, and i shall mourn the boy, not the man. i shall grieve my brother, above all, and not the man he had become; at the end of time, when death writes our story, we are brothers, two stars in the sky.

[starlitwishes]

The question made Wrenn scoff. Or was it a hollowed laugh? He didn't know.

He stared at this segment with hollowed eyes, allowing him to strap him down to the table. What would be the point in fighting back, anyway? These restraints were always made for him.

"Do you take me to be an idiot?" It was a dumb question. Of course Dottore thought him to be a fool. Surely, he was. "I know there's... no point in trying."

His voice was broken and meek, the sound of someone broken who couldn't even escape hell through death.

No, he wasn't like that other puppet--Wrenn knew better than to even try.

"I wasn't 'sneaking around'. I was looking for water," he mumbled. "You did a sloppy job and one of the humans has an infection. I was just... looking for water to clean the wound. Don't need it getting worse." He paused. "Unless the experiment is the infection. I didn't think it was, since it would be a pretty mundane one for you."

@ever-winter

@starlitwishes asked for a Starter

"A little birdies been telling me about you snooping around...what could you possibly be looking for?", he's speaking as he secures Wrenn onto one of the tables that allows him to tilt the surface up into a standing position, "I'd have though that you'd have accepted your new purpose by this point...you can't possibly be attempting to find a means of escape, can you?"

[devondespresso]

friendly reminder as new years comes up and companies double down on exploiting marketing to people's weight loss resolutions: please please please please PLEASE be kind to yourself. love if you can, be neutral if you can't. there's about a million posts about this that i want to restate but then we'll be here all day so ill just stick to my two cents.

a lot of fitness culture (nice and well-intentioned people, not just shitty companies) will tell you you can do it right. you can be educated and smart, know the macros and minerals and do the best HIIT and have your rest days. And i don't have the authority to say that idea doesn't exist in reality, but i can say i was doing it as smart possible. reduce dont cut, stay above your calorie minimum, balance cardio and strength, eat healthy fats and get good protein.

you don't get an eating disorder by being dumb or uninformed or well-intentionedly doing it wrong. you dont get sucked in deeper by being flippant, by choosing with a sound mind to take those risks. and you dont get out of that shit by being smarter or learning more or figuring out how to do it right. you get out of it by being kinder to yourself, and most fitness companies dont want that for you so you have to want that for yourself

i like thinking of going to the gym as a hobby, and three years after my lowest point i still like weightlifting and yoga a lot. the difference now is that im recovering, making protein shakes that are closer to glorified milkshakes (ice cream and all, plenty of ice cream), putting effort into eating enough and not forcing myself to do stuff ill hate in the name of discipline or whatever. you don't force yourself to attend a painting class because you hate how your hands are shaped and youre told that if you just put all your willpower and discipline into painting regularly you'll be able to fix them. being creative on your own time and as you enjoy it *is* good for you and can definitely make you feel better, but staring at a canvas for weeks agonizing over the work you're only doing because you 'have' to is not.

so please please PLEASE be kind to yourselves💕💗💖

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Whumptember day 23

“I told you not to do that.” Passing out | Hyperventilating | New scars

Content warning: temporary death, suicidal idealation (arguably)

About two hours after the party had begun, Whumper opened the door to Caretaker’s cell. They were dragging Whumpee behind them, leaving a trail of blood. Whumpee’s limp body was thrown into the cell. Caretaker wasted no time rushing to their side.

Whumpee still wore the suit Whumper had forced them into. Two hours ago, it had looked brand new, a pearl white that stood in stark contrast to the dinginess of their cell. Now the suit was in taters, stained with Whumpee’s blood and torn by piercing blades. The wounds were deep, leaving stains so dark they seemed black.

Whumpee’s face was covered in drying tears, their face in a perpetual look of horror. Their eyes were blank, unfocused. Their head lolled limply on their shoulders, neck unnaturally twisted. They weren’t breathing. 

Caretaker stared at the body, fingers aching. 

“Well?” Whumper spoke, reminding Caretaker of their presence. Instinctually, they reached to pull Whumpee closer to them. “I’ve got people waiting for them to come back. Fix it.”

“I–,” something in Caretaker knew they should resist, but the unnatural stillness of Whumpee’s features silenced them. It always did. They nodded despite themselves, silencing whatever resistance they might’ve pretended to have if Whumpee were still alive. 

Gently, Caretaker straightened Whumpee’s body until it rested flat against the ground. They tried to position their head to face upward, but it simply fell limply to the side each time. When Caretaker caught a glimpse of bone pushing against the skin of Whumpee’s neck, they stopped trying. 

Caretaker brought their shaking hands to Whumpee’s chest. After a moment, their hands began to glow a soft white.

No matter what Caretaker tied, the process always began with Whumpee regaining consciousness. Caretaker saw the moment life returned to Whumpee’s eyes. Their mouth wided on instinct, attempting to gasp with lungs that still thought they were dead. Their face spasmed in pain. 

Caretaker pressed their hands more firmly into Whumpee, praying that doing so would somehow quicken the process.

Their powers moved steadily throughout Whumpee’s body. Caretaker heard the shifting of flesh and bone as Whumpee’s neck repaired itself. They felt Whumpee’s heart resume its beating, felt their body twitch as they regained movement of their limbs. As their lungs began to function again, Whumpee gasped, eyes filling with tears.

Finally, the glow faded from Caretaker’s hands. All that remained of Whumpee’s death were the faintest of scars and a mess of blood. They didn’t move their hands from Whumpee.

Whumpee turned to look at them, something desperate and wild in their eyes. “I–I told you not to do that,” they panted, still too weak to do anything but whisper. “Stop, please just let me–,”

Whumper didn’t wait for Whumpee to finish. As soon as the glow left Caretaker’s hands, Whumpee was grabbed by the arm. They were pulled away from Caretaker, forced to stand on trembling legs. “Hurry up, you’re not done tonight.”

Whumper’s grip on Whumpee was ironclad. Whumpee didn’t fight as they were pulled out of the cell. They stared at Caretaker. Their eyes were desperate, haunted and tearfilled. Their eyes were pleading, asking Caretaker for something they couldn’t give.

Caretaker did not break contact until Whumpee disappeared down the hall. When Whumpee finally disappeared, Caretaker’s eyes traveled down to the bloodstain left on the floor. They thought of the dozens of other bloodstains Whumpee had left, and the dozens of times Whumpee had begged not to be brought back. 

Bringing Whumpee back only allowed them to suffer again. Caretaker knew that, knew that the cycle of life and death was agonizing, that death would be far kinder. 

Caretaker looked down at the blood on their hands. They knew they weren’t strong enough to be kind. 

They simply sat, mind numb as they waited for Whumpee to die again.

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Daily fish fact #424

Wolf herring!

A family of only two species, wolf herrings are closely related to herrings! Unlike herrings, however, wolf herrings have long, sharp teeth and can grow to be about one meter in length (3 feet-ish).

[brainrotlesbian]

Idea: Caretaker who was held captive with whumpee/forced to work under whumper helps whumpee escape. Whumper is furious about this, so they track down Caretaker and make them pay for their actions, then kill them as a warning to whumpee. Whumpee isn’t aware of what happened until they get the news that Caretaker was found dead in an alley, beaten and bruised, with the word “traitor” carved into their forehead.

[my-life-is-falling-apart]

You look so tired, unhappy. TOH vent fic.

tw: Suicidal idealization, death mention, shouting, victim blaming (? Technically it's Collector blaming himself) and mentioned manipulation

Title from No surprises by Radiohead.

It probably isn't wrote the best but oh well ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Collector was here visiting again, it had been a while since King had seen his friend, but they'd been acting... weird. Not like, well, The Collector.

They both had went to bed but King woke up in the middle of the night. He looked over to where Collie had been and didn't see them.

He looked around before seeing Francois sitting on a open windowsill. King looked out the window and saw Collector laying on the roof.

King walked over to him, being careful not to fall. "What are you doing?" He whispered.

Collector looked up at him and sat up "...just looking at the stars and thinking." They replied.

"What are you thinking about?"

Collie sighed, hugging his legs to their chest "Well it's uh- hard to explain."

"You don't have to tell me if don't want to." King said.

"It's just that, ugh, things would've been better if I never existed in the first place." They said.

King blinked a few times "That's not true-"

"IT IS! If I hadn't existed Luz would've have died, heck Ph- er Belos wouldn't have even known the draining spell!" They whispered-shouted, not wanting to be loud.

King looked at them trying to think of what to say. "That wasn't your fault, Collie."

He scoffed "Oh really?! How was it not my fault!?"

"He tricked you. It wasn't your fault for being manipulated."

Collie buried his head into their legs. "I'm just so tired. Of everything." They whispered in a broken voice.

He wasn't sure what to do or say to them so he did the only thing he thought of "Do you want a hug?"

Collector nodded quietly. King pulled him into hug and they sat like that for bit. "...Collie I'm glad you exist." He said.

They quietly cried and hugged King tighter.

[clarabowmp3]

Also I started reading this book Everyone I Know is Dying by Emily slapper and good lord does it take you on a trip