#medically assisted suicide immediately

[m0llygunn]

you guys I have been suffering — which I know I say that a lot but I have double ear infections and double pink eye like send help I can barely see

[disillusioneddanny]

I'm Ready to Go DPxDC

TW: suicide

Tim woke up groggy, sleep melding his eyelids shut and a throbbing pain came from his abdominal area. Beneath him he could feel the rock-hard medical bed he was laying on, the mattress having nearly no give to it. Shifting his arm ever so slightly, he could feel an IV needle embedded in his veins. He stayed quiet, though, as he forced his eyes to rip open. The dull lights of torches had him almost immediately realizing where he was as his brain slowly started to kick back on.

He was back in the underbelly of the League of Assassins and could smell the sulfuric stench of the Lazarus Waters nearby. The sharp pain stabbed through his abdomen once again and Tim bit his lip to hold back from the whimper that threatened to escape. 

“Ah, I see you are finally awake, Detective,” a familiar, posh voice said lightly from beside Tim’s head. His eyes whipped over to find Ra’s Al Ghul staring down at him with those beady, leering eyes of his. 

“What the hell happened?” Tim snarled out as he ignored the stabbing pains in his abdomen and forced himself to sit up. 

Ra’s tsked. “It would seem the Widower got his hands on you. But do not worry my young detective, I ensured you were safe and taken care of,” he said with a sly grin that Tim knew not to trust. “You see upon his attack you lost a vital organ and I took it upon myself to remove a few others just so that I could have them for safekeeping,” he said, eyes glittering with glee. 

“Which ones,” Tim snarled out. There was something far too uncomfortable with the fact that Ra’s was just keeping Tim’s organs somewhere. He didn’t trust the Demon’s Head with his body like that and knew that the only reason Ra’s Al Ghul would keep them would be for nefarious reasons. He would need to get rid of them before he left this hell hole.

“Your spleen was the most damaged one. But really I saw no need in you needing to keep your gallbladder and your appendix. You may know that they are simply evolutionary leftovers so I chose to remove them,” he said with a shrug. “As well as a few other things. But that is neither here nor there, you’ll be healed within the next twenty-four hours.”

The vigilante ticked off in his head that Ra’s had taken a few other things from his as well and made a note to figure out just what exactly he had taken from Tim as soon as he could figure it out.

Tim arched an eyebrow at the man. “And why do you say that?” He asked, looking over his body and searching for Ra’s face for whatever the hell he was missing here. Why the hell was Ra’s doing this? What was his plan? His motive?

“Because I have a proposition for you, Timothy,” he said with a smug smile. “Currently you are being fed just enough of diluted Lazarus Water to keep you alive. In twenty-four hours you will be dipped into the Lazarus Waters and healed completely and will no longer be at risk of death.”

“And what’s the catch?” Tim asked, carefully crossing his arms over his chest as he looked over the Demon’s Head. 

“The catch, as you say, Detective, is that you will only take that lovely dip in the Lazarus Water to heal your poor, broken body, is if you agree to be my bride and assist me in creating the perfect heir,” he crooned, leaning close to Tim, placing a pointer finger beneath Tim’s chin to tilt his face up to look at him. 

“And if I refuse?” Tim asked. 

Ra’s shrugged his shoulders. “You will be disconnected from your intravenous line and will be cut off from the Lazarus Waters that are currently keeping you alive. So the choice is yours, die or be healed and be mine. And if you choose death, do not worry my beloved. Your organs will be more than enough for me to create the perfect clone of you.” 

Tim shuddered in horror as Ra’s stared at him with that evil, predatory smile of his and Tim found himself shrinking back in the medical bed. This wasn’t part of the plan. He knew what he was getting into when he had come to Ra’s for help. Knew that asking Ra’s to help him get proof to show that Bruce was still alive, somewhere in the timestead would be tricky. But this wasn’t what he was expecting either. He knew that Ra’s was sneaky and conniving but to force Tim into a marriage with him? Didn’t he care that Tim was barely seventeen?

“Can I have time to think about it?” He asked, staring up at the assassin king with tired, weary eyes. His body felt so, so heavy at that moment.

Ra’s simply leaned forward and pressed a possessive kiss to Tim’s head. “Choose well, my beloved,” he crooned before leaving Tim alone in the room. Tim stared at the wall in front of him, his eyes unseeing as his brain tried desperately to figure out a solution, to come up with some way to get himself out of this situation. 

He was connected to an IV that was giving him enough Lazarus Water to keep him alive. He was apparently missing multiple organs, some which were likely important to keep him alive. If he even managed to break out of the League of Assassins base how long would he last before his body succumbed to its various injuries?  He could live without his spleen, appendix, and gallbladder but Ra’s had said he had taken other things. And that had him nervous. All of his limbs were intact. He pulled the blanket covering his legs to find bare feet intact and there. He wiggled his toes just to be safe.

Tim carefully maneavuered himself to be in a full sitting position to take better account of his body. He looked over his nude body, taking note of the new scar that crossed Tim’s stomach and tried to even his breathing as he realized the emptiness on his chest. The Lazarus Water that was already being fed into his system had already healed all of the incisions, leaving nothing but faint scars in its wake. 

His breasts were gone.

He furrowed his brow as he ran a shaky hand over his now flat chest, taking note that Ra’s had not bothered to have his nipples sewn back onto his body upon his mastectomy. It was a surgery that Tim had been thinking about getting ever since he had come to terms with the fact that he was transgender, but one that he hadn’t decided to get yet due to his own fears of having the top surgery and the long healing process that came with it. 

Now, though, he didn’t seem to have to worry about it. And if Tim was being honest, it kind of made him sad. He had looked forward to the day he would get to tell his family that he was scheduling his top surgery, and looked forward to the feeling of having them removed and the gender euphoria that would come with it. But now he was just sad. Ra’s had taken the decision away from him and that hurt more than he expected it to.

Ra’s likely thought he was doing Tim a favor by removing them himself. Like some kind of morbid wedding gift, or a way to sway Tim to agree to marrying Ra’s. 

“Fuck,” he whispered and looked down at the surgical scar that covered the lower part of his abdomen. Ra’s wanted an heir so it was unlikely he took Tim’s reproductive organs, not only that but it didn’t seem like Ra’s had decided to give Tim bottom surgery as well which likely meant he was wanting to have Tim give birth the old fashioned way and wasn’t that fucked to think about? 

He rubbed his fingers across the scar carefully, still staring at them in horror before looking over the rest of his body, he still had all of his fingers, his ears were both there, and nothing else seemed to have been altered without TIm’s permission.

“Fuck,” he whispered out. “Fuck,” he shouted, slamming the blanket back over his legs and letting out a groan. He had no way of knowing what else Ra’s would have removed from him, no clue how he would get out of here. He was naked as the day he was born, his body was now fully relying on the Lazarus Waters. 

Ra’s had made sure that his options were as narrow as possible. If Tim were to even try to escape he would need to get anything that had his DNA from Ra’s to ensure that a clone wouldn’t be mad. But would he have enough time to do that without being connected to the IV any longer? 

His options truly were death or marriage. 

What a fucking shitshow. 

“I wish I could find at least a third option. Anything would be better than this,” he whispered sardonically. 

“So you wish it, so it shall be,” a feminine voice whispered in Tim’s ear before a soft sigh stirred through the air. Tim whipped his head around for a moment before his eyes landed on the bubbling Lazarus Pit that was not too far from him and his hospital bed. 

He watched as a woman slowly emerged from the pits, a being unlike anything Tim had ever seen. Her skin was the same color green as the Lazarus Pits. her hips ended down to a tail, blue skirt seemed to cover her lower half, and a blue top covered her chest. Gold bangles rested on her green arms along with lilac wrist braces. A light blue tiara sat upon her dark black hair as she floated towards Tim. 

Her hand cupped his face gently as she gave him a sad, soft smile. “My child,” she said softly. “I understand what you are experiencing. Once, many years ago, Ra’s Al Ghul gave me a very similar choice as yours. Before my death, I was a harem girl who had one Ra’s heart and he had promised to grant all of my hearts desires, had even promised me a kingdom of my own,” she said and sadness shone through her bright red eyes as she held Tim’s face. “That was until I was no longer enough for the Demon’s Head wife who learned of our relationship and did what she could to get rid of me. Not that Ra’s tried very hard to protect me from the woman,” she said with a humorless laugh.

“What does this have to do with me?” Tim asked, eyeing the pit demon warily, not sure what to do with this new information. He was unfortunately not surprised by her story, it sounded exactly like something that Ra’s Al Ghul would do to someone.

“Upon my death, my spirit has wandered around forever granting others wishes, yet at a great personal cost,” she said softly. “For that was what happened to me, I was given a gift unlike anything else yet in the end it cost me my life.”

“And you can what? You can grant my wish? Give me a third option to get away from Ra’s?” Tim asked, arching his brow. 

The being nodded her head, sorrow clear upon her face. “I can,” she said softly. “My king, King Phantom, he is unlike anything I have ever seen in my existence. I can have him turn you into a being like himself, if you will allow me to grant your wish, he will appear and he will give you a third option.”

The being gave Tim a sad smile. “I wish that there was more that I could do, but this wish is the only way I can help,” she told him. Tim stared at her for a moment, looking over the being's face, studying her features. If what she was telling him was true, that Ra’s had killed her, she had to have been a ghost. Was she trapped here? Was there any way that he could get her a different place to haunt rather than the fucking League of Assassins base?

“What if I wished for you to be free instead?” He asked and the woman let out a loud laugh. 

“Oh you sweet child, I am free. I can go wherever I would like whenever I would like. I am here because I made sure that no one would suffer the same fate as I did at the hands of Ra’s Al Ghul and his wife. And I will not allow you to suffer at the hands of the Demon’s Head.”

Tim pursed his lips. He had no other options. He knew that this was a risk. There was a chance that this ghost was lying to him about her entire tragic backstory just to trick him into agreeing. But what did he have to lose? He was going to die as it was. His only options at the moment were to marry Ra’s or die and have a clone replace him and neither option was good. Whatever option this ghost was giving him, it had to be better than his current options. Even if she did say it would come at a great cost of its own.

Anything would be better than his current options. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, looking up at the ghost. 

She gave him a lovely smile. “Desiree,” she said softly. “Now, allow me to grant your wish, my dear and let us get you far, far away from Ra’s Al Ghul.”

He nodded his head. “Do it,” he whispered, his heart feeling like someone had clenched it in their first.

Desiree gave him a gleeful smile and raised her hands to the air as green smoke started to fill the room. “So you wished it! So it shall be!”  She shouted before a being started to slowly rise from the smoke and Desiree seemed to completely disappear from the room. 

In her place stood a boy about Tim’s age. He had snow-white hair, glowing green eyes, and lightly blue skin. He looked around the room curiously before his eyes landed on Tim’s face and his head tilted to the side in curiosity. 

“Hm, I’m never part of Des’ wishes anymore,” he said curiously as he stepped forward and continued to look Tim over. 

Tim gave him a wary look. “King Phantom?” he asked hesitantly and a look of annoyance flashed over the being’s face for a split second before he huffed out a laugh. 

“I’m not king anything,” he said as he walked towards Tim and sat at the foot of his hospital bed. “But that’s a story for a different time. Desiree seems to think that I am the one to grant your wish.” 

He looked Tim over for a moment with eyes far older than that of a teenager. It reminded Tim of his own eyes, eyes that had seen the very worst of the world, had seen the very worst of himself and had come back in one piece despite all the odds. 

“The way Des grants wishes has already given me the information I need to make it happen,” he said and winced slightly as he looked Tim over once again. “Death or marriage, what a shitty decision to make,” he said wryly. 

“You don’t understand-”

“I do,” he said, cutting Tim off before the teenager could grow any more indigent at the moment. “I know all about Ra’s Al Ghul and the evil he is capable of. He’s a disgusting worm and I’m unfortunately not allowed to interfere. But what I can do is make it where he can’t get his hooks into you if you so wish,” he said with a small smile, showing little dimples in his cheeks. 

“So what’s the alternative? Desiree said it comes at a great price,” Tim said warily, still eyeing the being up and down. 

Phantom huffed out a breath as he looked over the room they were currently in surveying the cave for a moment. “It does, you’d become like me. You’ve sustained far too much damage to live a normal life ever again but we can work with that. You’ll become something called a halfa. Half ghost,” a bright light shone in the room for a moment and when Tim blinked back the spots in his vision he found a human teenager sitting in front of him. Gone were the otherworldly features, instead he found a dark-haired teenager with pale white skin, blue eyes and rounded-off ears rather than the pointy ones he had before. “And half-human,” he said with a small smile. 

“But the human half, would it be able to survive? I’m missing some pretty important parts,” he said with a wince and Phantom shrugged. “Yeah, your human body won’t be alive because of your heart or lungs or any of that. In its place, you’ll have something much better, much more powerful, and potent running in your veins. It’s similar to the Lazarus Waters but better, purer.”

Tim listened with close attention as Phantom explained ectoplasm to him, explaining how it would replace any part of Tim that was no longer functional. According to Phantom, it was currently what kept him alive as it was. Phantom’s own change into being a halfa had brought him back from the dead, restarted his heart and brain, and kept him going. He explained that he no longer needed to eat or drink as the ectoplasm kept his human body alive. He admitted that he still enjoyed doing those things and was able to do so without any real consequence. 

What he was explaining to Tim sounded like a dream come true if the vigilante was going to be honest. 

He had never been good about taking care of himself. Had always struggled with remembering to eat and hydrate. He went days at a time without sleep and apparently being a halfa would do that for him. 

There had to be a catch, though, there was always a catch and Desiree had already said that much. 

“But the cost?” Tim asked. 

“You’ll be dead,” Phantom said softly, his eyes sad. “You’ll have your human body but you’ll still be a half ghost. You’ll be forced to suffer from obsessions as each ghost does, to bend to the will of your obsessions. Des’ is to grant wishes for others since she never got hers fulfilled. Mine is safety. I died because my parents didn’t care about my safety or the safety of others and now i’m obsessed with ensuring the safety of everyone around me, of protecting them from harm.”

“Like a vigilante,” Tim said with a small smile. Phantom gave him that sad smile. 

“Like a vigilante,” he said with a sigh before he shook his head. “Now, the only other main stipulation to this is that you’ll be bonded to me. But I think a bond with a weird ghost teenager is a little preferable to a marriage with a creepy immortal assassin,” he said before giving Tim a nervous look. “It’s the only real option I have that keeps you mostly alive and not married to the creep. Hell, once we do it, I’ll even help you destroy this place and deal with the consequences of my actions later.”

Tim cocked his head to the side. Marry Ra’s, die and have a clone replace him, or become half-dead and bonded to a ghost he didn’t know anything about. His options were absolute shit but the decision was thankfully easy to make. Phantom’s option at least gave him an out and that was more than the other two did. And even if he was going to be bonded to Phantom, which he had a feeling was a ghost equivalent of marriage, he could see the two of them at least becoming friends after all of this. And maybe Phantom would even train him in his new form once he took it. 

Maybe he could even get Phantom to help him find Bruce. Ra’s was obviously a dead end and was not going to do what Tim needed and Phantom could possibly give him a better perspective on how to find Bruce. He was a ghost after all, maybe he would know more about the situation than any of the living did.

“What do we have to do?” Tim asked, eyeing the human teenager in front of him warily. 

Phantom just grinned, a smile that was still just a little too inhuman for his human physique. “We’ll have to kill you,” he said before looking around curiously. “Do you have a preference on how you die? I died by electrocution and honestly, I can’t recommend it. Ten out of ten would not recommend it.”

Tim huffed off a soft laugh and shook his head. “Can you get me a knife? I can do it myself.”

Phantom frowned at him yet produced a sharp knife from thin air. It was a simple thing with a black handle and a long slim silver blade. It was beautiful and incredibly sharp. Just what Tim needed to get the job done. 

With nimble, sure fingers he disconnected himself from the IV that was currently feeding him Lazarus Water to keep him alive. He hissed as he removed the needle and allowed the arm to freely bleed, it wasn’t like he mattered, he was about to die anyway. 

“And you’re sure this will work?” Tim asked as he took the handle of the blade from Phantom who was still watching him warily. 

He nodded and with a flash of light changed back to his Phantom form. Only now his eyes glowed a bright blue color. “It will,” he said solemnly. 

Tim nodded once and before he could stop himself or talk himself out of it, he took the knife and slid it along the scar that already marred his throat from a previous murder attempt from Jason. He didn’t feel much as the blood slipped from the wound, the knife slipped into his lap but Tim wasn’t paying attention to it. Not when ectoplasm poured from Danny’s body and straight into the gaping wound in Tim’s throat, filling his body and burning him with a power unlike any other. 

It wasn’t life that was now filling Tim’s veins, it wasn’t life that was now forcing his heart to continue beating as sharp pain burned across his throat. It was something unlike anything Tim had ever felt. It wasn’t life, but it sure as hell wasn’t death either. 

It was a magic that was unparalleled. He had never felt anything like this in his entire existence. It felt as if his very molecules were being changed and arranged. Tim had never wanted to die so badly in all of his life. 

He had undergone extreme torture at the hands of mad men, had been nearly murdered by two of his brothers, he had gone through hell and back, and yet nothing compared to the burning, burning, burning pain that was now filling his body.

A gasp escaped his lips and Tim found no relief in the air that now filled his lungs. He wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes but forcing them to open was a feat unlike any other. 

When they finally split open everything looked different. 

The world was sharper, clearer than it had ever been, he sniffed and nearly cried out at the stench that flooded his nostrils. The putrid sulfur nearly had him gagging and a soft chuckle made its way to his sensitive ears. 

“Yeah the change in your senses is a mind fuck,” Phantom said with a small smile. “Welcome to the halfa life,” he said and held out a hand. Tim carefully took it and finally took note of the change in his own skin color. Gone was the pale white skin that he had gotten from Janet Drake, in its place was a light green colored skin, a pale mint green color. His fingers were now tipped with dark claws that were pointed into tips. 

“I’m green,” he mused, turning his hand this way and that. Phantom snickered. 

“I’ll have to get you a mirror,” he said before a soft smile appeared on his face. “Your ghost form is very beautiful.”

Tim felt his cheeks heat up slightly and he looked up at Phantom, shock covering his face. “T-thank you,” he said softly. Phantom just cracked a grin. 

“You know, I don’t think I ever got your name,” he said and held out a hand. “The name’s Danny, by the way. Danny Phantom.”

Tim took the cold, blue hand in his own green hand and shook it once. “Tim, Tim Drake, or better known to some as Red Robin.”

“Well Red Robin, how about we get the second part of your wish taken care of and then I can whisk you away to learn how to use your new powers before you go back home?” Danny suggested as he got off the bed and floated in front of Tim, his legs fusing together to form a tail. Tim frowned and looked at his own legs before realizing he was no longer naked, no longer covered by the thin, satin blanket that Ra’s had provided for him. 

Instead, he was wearing a different form of his Red Robin suit. The suit was the exact same as his old one, the main difference being that this one was all black and was missing his cowl. He pressed a hand to his face and felt the familiar texture of a domino mask covering his face and a long black cape behind him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you a mirror when we get out,” Danny told him before he held his hand out once more. “Now let’s go.”

Destroying the labs and finding all of the tissue Ra’s had stolen from Tim’s body had been far easier than he had expected it to be. Danny had turned the two of them invisible and shot beams of ectoplasm at different targets in the lab, destroying pretty much everything in sight. He had then looked at Tim with a wide, mischievous grin on his face and Tim found himself growing more and more okay with being bonded to Danny. 

The two had found themselves flying off into the night with the entire League of Assassins base burning behind them. Danny had flown him through the air, their hands interlocked and wind blowing through his hair until he had gotten far enough away to open up a portal that the two flew into. 

“You know, I think being married to you won’t be that bad,” Tim said with a laugh as they landed on a green island in the middle of a strange dimension. 

Danny spluttered. “What? What are you talking about?” He asked, looking at Tim like he had grown a second head. 

Tim frowned. “You said we were bonded,” he said and Danny nodded. “Which I assumed is the ghostly equivalent of being married.”

At that Danny gave him a disbelieving look before throwing his head back and letting out a loud laugh. “Oh Ancients, no, no! I’m only seventeen! I’m not ready for marriage.” Now Tim felt dumb. He frowned as Danny stepped towards him and ran his fingers through Tim’s wispy white hair. “We aren’t married, Tim. Bonding is something between an adult ghost and a baby ghost. Basically, our cores are bonded together, since you’re a baby ghost still you don’t know how to regulate your ectoplasm, change forms, or well, be a ghost. My job is to help you do all of that until you’re sure that you can survive on your own without my assistance. If you’re hurt or in trouble, your core will call out to mine and I can come and help you with whatever it is. And then when your core has fully developed and you can handle your powers on your own, the bonding will fade.”

Danny bit his lip and gave Tim a small smile. “If it’s any consolation, I do think you’re very pretty and a lot of fun. But I would never try to force someone into a marriage. Especially not after they were just told that their only options were to marry a creepy ninja assassin who’s like eight hundred years old or die and have a clone replace him.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Tim asked dumbly. The events of the day were starting to catch up to him and he would be the first to admit that it had made him a little dumber than usual. 

“Very,” Danny said seriously. “Now, why did you go to Ra’s Al Ghul in the first place?”

Tim let out a breath and explained to his new friend what exactly was happening and Danny just grinned evilly. “What is it?”

“The ghost of time owes me a favor, come on,” he said and took Tim’s hand once more. Tim felt his stomach flutter as the two flew through the purple skies. Maybe being a halfa wouldn’t be too terrible, especially if he had Danny at his side.

[enbycrip]

Another enormous and ongoing factor in “Canada is not a human rights paradise”; MAiD.

Canada legalised “medically assisted death” and what literally every disability rights group said would happen immediately proceeded to happen; they started offering it instead of care to disabled people.

Far from being limited to terminally ill people in intense pain, which is what they spoke about when pushing the policy, it’s now routinely offered to disabled and chronically ill people who are suffering *because they are living in poverty* and *unable to access the pretty basic care and assistance that would be needed for a decent quality of life.” They are currently expanding the programme to include mentally ill people because of course they are.

I know disabled and chronically ill Canadians who are living in tremendous poverty - like, crowdfunding food and heating in *Canadian winters* poverty - who speak continuously about the fact that every time they seek any form of government or public assistance, all they get is offered “assisted suicide.”

There is literally no way this is anything other than eugenicist genocide of disabled people. And no one seems to give a shit other than disabled people, because abled people *continuously* seem to believe that death is preferable to disability. They continuously and massively overestimate the suffering involved in, say, incontinence.

[bigshymen]

HAPPY DEATH

sam sulek x masc reader

summary : terminally ill and lonely, your dreams are crushed when you’re set to die in 2 weeks. with your health worsening everyday you decide to create a plan. wanting to go on your own terms, you reach out to sam sulek.

smut , death , smothering , begging , spanking , painful s3x , unprotected s3x , spit as lube , muscle k1nk & worship , obsession , asphyxiation , virgin reader , loss of virginity , terminally ill reader , top reader , skinny reader , amab anatomy , multiple 0rgasms , unrealistic s3x , squint for light sub & d0m , loneliness , swearing , size difference , size k1nk

You came out of a restless sleep. The room was too bright - the hospice nurse must have forgotten to turn the light switch off when she exited the room. You reached over to turn it off but paused when you saw the large silhouette of a man quietly sitting in one of the chairs next to your bed, alone.

A week ago you had been given the news from your doctor that you weren’t expected to live past two weeks, further solidifying the fear that you would eventually succumb to your illness into reality.

You didn’t fear death. What you feared was dying alone, without anyone spend the remainder of your time on this earth with. When you had abandoned the nest at 18, you had left your family estranged. Neither your mother, father or siblings had reached out via text or had traveled in person to see you after the hospitalization that had shorty followed.

During your stay, loneliness had prompted in your bedridden state to create a tiktok account dedicated to documenting your experiences, hopes, and fears relating to your illness. To your surprise, it had amassed a decent following, with strangers wishing you well and fellow terminally ill patients finding comfort in your videos.

The sense of community you began to feel was great but still, something was missing. As a teen you had been really into bodybuilding, posters of renowned figures litered the wall of your childhood bedroom and you’d even snuck out of the house to see some bikini competitions once upon a time.

But those days were over. There wasn’t a future for you that included bodybuilding because there wasn’t going to be a future at all. You’d die before 20 and it would be a painful and slow death. Your body was already declining, and fast. Thankfully, the doctors were compassionate enough to agree to your request for a medical assisted suicide so that you had at least a semblance of dignity going out on your own terms.

What surprised you was the long list of… diverse options presented to you. The good, bad, and OK ones immediately paled to the idea that made you decide to take back your request. How to explain yourself? You were still a virgin. You never got around to being with anyone like that so when the thought of being smothered to death by your favorite 5’11” 240 pound bodybuilder popped into your head, what did you have to lose?

The fascination with bodybuilding you developed as a teen had blossomed into almost a career choice for you. You played with the idea of becoming an aspiring bodybuilder and as a result, you followed a bunch of workout influencers for motivation. Among your body goals, the one that you treasured the most was a man named Sam Sulek.

To say you had developed a crush was an understatement. What first started as young admiration for the 21 year old bodybuilder quickly morphed into sexual obsession. You’d watch videos of him getting his pump on at the gym all the while you’re ‘pumping’ yourself in the restroom at Planet Fitness. Nightly fantasies became wildly vivid and recurring, so much so they bled into your days. As devastating as being terminal is, it put you in a unique spot. How could anyone refuse a measly kiss from someone dying as young as you?

Yes, you’re doing this all with the assumption he’ll accept your dying wish. What else can you do? With this little time left, you’re unable to bring yourself to fear rejection.

Working up the nerve, you reached out to the man through tiktok, and you explained your story and left out the more… inappropriate details of your request to not scare him away.

This was definitely illegal, having someone unqualified and untrained that doesn’t even know they’re going to be assisting in your suicide do it. Would you get into trouble? They cant arrest a dead man, but they can arrest and convict whoever killed that man.

We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

To your surprise, only a day later he had responded. You were shocked because of the large influx of messages he was probably receiving daily, he noticed yours. Maybe he had a social media manager? You imagined he’d be a nice guy based on his internet persona so you were happy that it proved true so far. He reassured he was more than willing to meet a fan and agreed to come visit you in the hospital. Obviously wasting little time you shot him a message back, grateful for his response and arranged the finer details with him.

Dying in your sleep was always a possibility, so you knew this had to be soon. That and you could hardly wait to see him. The night following was spent entirely palming yourself under the covers of the hospital bed while listening to a playlist of Sam’s car talks. You started slow, and picked up the pace imagining he was pleasuring you with each bounce of his massive glutes against your thin hips, comprised almost entirely of muscle. Adding pain to the already brutal pace he’d set, in your bedridden state. You came as soon as you pictured him pressing your face into his hard pecs.

This would continue repeatedly for the next 3 days following the initial confirmation and your libido seemed to grow along side your anticipation but weakness followed behind.

You hoped the rest of the floor didn’t hear you, because if they did then they’d definitely hear you and Sam. Well… maybe you wouldn’t be that opposed to the possibility.

The door handle turned with a soft clicking noise followed by the nurse walking in to check your vitals as you drifted off to sleep. She didn’t attempt to make any conversation because this was routine most days for the two of you. With the click of her shoe she left the room, neglecting to turn the lights out.

Morning came and so did you, out of a restless sleep that is. You felt a sense of deja vu as your senses woke up with you. The room was too bright - the hospice nurse must have forgotten to turn the light switch off when she exited the room. You reached over to turn it off but paused when you saw the large silhouette of a man quietly sitting in one of the chairs next to your bed, alone.

What time was it? You struggled to sit up so you settled for bringing your hand to your face to rub your left eye groggily. The man, who you now recognize as Sam was lazily scrolling on his phone, unaware you had just woken up. You were glad. Even sat, you knew you weren’t prepared for how big the guy was, hopefully in all aspects. Did the nurse let him in?

It’s obvious that reality hadn’t completely sunk in for you, as you only became conscious less than 20 seconds ago. So, you were a little apathetic to the subject of countless wet dreams lounging next to you, completely clueless to this fact.

Until it did.

Your felt your eyes widen to an unnatural degree. Words didn’t dare leave your mouth for fear they’d draw his attention and ruin the scene in front of you. His face was nothing short of masculine. A strong jawline, perfectly defined, albiet a bit long. High cheekbones that casted shadows generously accentuating the contours of his face. Pink, full lips that naturally fell into a pout. His beauty can be best described is conventionally unconventional, and far from the average hypermasculine bodybuilders you’d expect. From his wild bronze curls, helmeted by an old cap, down to his unmiraculous foot wear. The freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, among the heavy acne induced scaring, proved this.

You’d seen all of it, admired his appearance a hundred times before. But it’s incomparable to the real thing.

The breathe you had been holding in for what felt like forever forced it’s way out and to your disappointment, another pair of eyes met yours.

“Hey, dude.”

“Ha,” You responded weakly. “Hey-ha.”

Idiot.

Sam said something about the trip here. The weather had been hot, so the breeze had been nice. You stopped listening the moment he opened his mouth and instead hoped he could read you telepathically, so he’d know all he needed to know.

“Are you ok? The lady told me you were good to visit right now..” And suddenly there was an adorably concerned look on his face. Eyes full and nut-brown. He kind of looked like a sorry puppy-dog and it made you want to comfort him, like he was the one who’d die in a week.

You felt your eyes burn a little and you felt pressure building up in your chest. Your cheeks felt wet and before you knew it, you were sobbing. “I’m gonna die,” You barely made out through violent sniffles.

Without another word, Sam stood up and pulled you into an embrace, wrapping his broad arms around your weak shoulders. You felt bad, the awkward angle he was in was probably uncomfortable because he was bigger than the average guy.

“I know this is hard for you man. If you need me to do anything just say it,” he reassured in his deep, relaxing voice he seemed to always know how to use.

You knew there was still a very real possibility he’d reject you because he’s not into it or he simply doesn’t swing that way. But you miss all of the shots you don’t take.

“Oh..oh!”

The wet sounds of the two of you colliding became louder as Sam fucked himself on top of you harsher and harsher, per your request. He wasn’t holding his mini erection, so it bounced with him and drops of precum landed on your stomach.

Initially, you were less than impressed with Sam’s size but you should have expected it given his steroid use. Everything else has made up for it though, so the trade off was worth it.

Rose colored marks scattered his body, forming a map pointing to the hidden “treasure.” From his mighty shoulders, biceps, to his hips and his thighs. You raised your hand up weakly and came down with as much force as you could manage, which wasn’t much, on his ass earning a surprised grunt. You knew he never skipped a meal, and the violent recoil the layer of fat gave over his well-sculpted glutes further confirmed it.

You winced as you were grounded deeper in the already stressed hospital bed by the bodybuilder’s weight. He’d made the effort initially not to crush you, given his size, but that’s exactly what you wanted.

You hoped he hadn’t heard it under all of the huffing and puffing the guy had going on, was it the sex or the shitty diet? He sounded like he was going to have a heart attack after the first five strokes and he needed a break every time it seemed like you were close. Curse tren.

As frustrating as it was, you were grateful that the time you were spending together was drawn on longer. You still needed something more from him. When all of this was said and done you knew you were going to be miserable, so you thought ahead of time.

Unhanding his inhumanly waist, you’d gripped it so tightly you could see the print, your fingers inched upwards to the unsuspecting bodybuilder’s chest. He had his eyes squeezed shut, and teeth clenched, likely from the lack of lube available. You felt sorry that, assuming he hadn’t been with a man before this, you had been the first let into his backdoor. You weren’t anyone special. You were forced to drop out because of treatments so you couldn’t even finish college. You were as sick and as can be and nowhere on Sam’s level. The only reason he’s fucking you right now is because he feels sorry for you and you felt sorry for that. But not sorry enough to stop.

You knew you were being selfish, but this would be the best and only fuck of your life. Were you not allowed to enjoy that? We made due with spit if you were wondering. 1/10 wouldn’t recommend, dries quickly.

As soon as your digits met his acne-massacred chest he let out a soft gasp and his eyes shot open immediately.

“Please- let me,” You murmured in a horse voice. You needed to do this slowly and thoughtfully, didn’t need to freak him out unecsessary.

“Uhm. Alright.” He responded through labored breaths.

Score.

You began to massage his firm pecs gently, kneeding the beautifully plump mounds of flesh like you would dough. Your heart raced faster thinking about how they would taste, feel. Lick? Suck? Fuck? The possibilities.

Struggling to rationalize, you were overwhelmed by the situation as a whole. It took everything not to attempt to manhandle him and force him to crush you without warning. But that would be counterproductive. You knew you couldn’t pin the man even if you tried, not unless he wanted to be pinned. Even then, he’d still be able to overpower you and have it his way.

You wanted him to want to have you have it your way… but it would be smarter to just take what was given.

You moaned under him, desperate for anything you could get from him despite already having so much.

You were insatiable.

“Please..” You vocalized though groans and small cries, catching Sam’s attention once more. You already had your dick up my ass and now you’re fondling my chest. What else do you want from me? - was what he was probably thinking.

“W-what uh, what do you want?” Weird. He didn’t sound annoyed in the slightest. All his deep-tone conveyed was being a little drained, this was a workout after all, and you hadn’t even considered the trip here, he was probably exhausted right? You needed to find a way to show your gratitude.

“Sam, please let me kiss them.” You breathed out, louder than you intended to, taking yourself a little by surprise. And you weren’t the only one.

His expression was completely unreadable. But he hadn’t stopped the rhythm he was going at, although a bit slow now. Your hands still laid on his chest, now cradling it lightly.

“Hm.” He replied in thought. “Tell me how, uh, much you want this.”

Oh.

Oh?

“I need it-t like a dying man needing water.”

His beautiful smile returned and he chuckled somewhat. “Sorry.” He caught himself immediately after realizing how morbid this was.

But you weren’t finished. You had a one track mind and that track was leading to your eventual demise. There was no room for shame before and there isn’t now. “Please, let me kiss them. Please, please, Sam, let me have this. I want them on my face and in my mouth!” Sam stopped moving completely and stared at you in what looked like disbelief. His body shook with laughter above you, causing the bed to vibrate. He laughed but not with cruelty, sounding genuinely entertained by this.

With a pleasant expression, he leaned down, close enough that he could feel your breath on his skin. Chest level with your face, he resumed his assault on your bottom half. With enough strength to hold his gigantic body from coming down on you completely, miraculously. Little did he know he was going to do it one way or another.

“Go nuts.”

As the heat of his tight hole expanded once more around you, he couldn’t stop yourself from gasping around his newly enveloped nipple. Desperately, like it was your life’s purpose to worship his tits, you sucked hard. They tasted salty, sweat leaking generously from his flesh and you wanted it all. He moaned loudly in surprise or delight at the vigor.

He steadied himself in a plank fashion, arms on each side of your head as he rode you more intensely than before.

You used some of your declining strength to wrap your arms around Sam’s wide torso and force your face to meet his ripped chest. The bodybuilder felt the collision like a punch and cried out in surprise.

“Whoa!”

Putting your plan into motion, you gave your best attempt at slamming yourself and the man back into the bed, back first. Catching him off guard, he lost his balance trying to hold himself up, not to hurt you. That powerful body smothered you involuntary, and without warning caused a long awaited orgasm deep inside of him with a snap against the fatigued hospital bed. Worried, Sam tried to separate the two of you to no avail. You weren’t letting him go that easily.

Using the last of your strength, you tightened both arms around him, tuning out his concerned words. This is the way you wanted it. His pecs pressed harsh, yet snugly around your face and squeezed, pressing your nose flat against his mighty frame. Forcing your head into the sensation of the pillows and your face in his marred flesh, you reveled in your new happiness. It would finally end, the pain and suffering, and it would end with the man you desired the most, Sam Sulek.

The weight and sheer size of his perfection made breathing completely impossible as his body pressed down against him completely.

Cries of pleasure erupted from your mouth but were muffled. Your lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen, yet you forced yourself not to resist. Your dick throbbed, still, inside a panicked Sam as you continued to empty yourself inside of him, only further fueling your euphoria.

Even he couldn’t stop himself from shouting out at the sensations, but his hands gripped your shoulder tightly to tear himself off of you, but it was as if your semen had created an invisible seal connecting the two of you, one as strong as he was he could not break free of. He orgasmed harshly as you reached your peak before your bucking became weaker and faint.

It all became too much for you and the screams of pleasure turned into ones of desperation as your weak body's survival instincts woke up. Feeling lightheaded, the hands you used to hold him close began to beat him harshly, fighting for air, tearing against his thick, scarred pecs with your teeth.

Without relief you convulsed painfully, but he was already passed out on top of you, oblivious to what was happening. For several minutes you were like this, now limp under him. Your pulse weakened and weakened, then stopped.

An hour and a half had pasted before Sam awakened from his pleasure induced sleep to the horrifying scene before him. Finally being able to sit up, he loosed your tense limbs around his body, your face drenched with sweat and tears. His pecs were cut red and wet with combined sweat and spit that dripped down his pink skin to his abs.

The hold was broken and you had died.

Glossed over and lifeless eyes presented themselves to him without further explanation.

[necronatural]

world of wuthering clockroach

OK I don't have him but I looked up his story/voice lets go

after cathy dies, widowing gregor, dante is an asset brought in to assist with the hunt. dante roughly understands that they're basically property to these people but is kind of intrigued by the contract here being cemented through marriage

gregor is a suicidally depressed asthmatic with life-destroying sleep apnea so he wasn't paying attention to the marriage contract and isn't particularly interested in dante. He spent his entire life trying to avoid people who would use him for his money and then his wife he was proud to marry emptied his savings and died for her work and now the man who blames him for it and ruined his life is trying to kill him and everyone around him.

dante is understanding at first but then as they keep getting dismissed - even for the entire purpose they were transferred to the edgar family for - they start getting Pissed Off and go from meekly trusting that Gregor knows how best to handle things to really annoyed they aren't being utilized OR romanced and decide to be proactive.

Dante trying to consummate the marriage: critical failure. Again, life-destroying sleep apnea, this man has almost no hormone activity. He is medically celibate.

Dante trying to get to know Gregor: critical failure. Too traumatized to function.

Dante trying to participate in the hunt: ineffective. No one spares them any time and don't have anything for them to do because their purpose is to kinda just hang back until the worst case scenario. But they're allowed to watch.

Dante trying to stop the hunt: gets really sour about being ignored they start negging Gregor and complaining about how wow he's so obsessed with the man looks like Dante is intruding on his time with his real husband 🙄

Falling...In Love? 😳 : Dante is really aggressively doting on Gregor which immediately makes Gregor freak out because he just spent 3 years in the worlds most loveless marriage. But Dante coaxes him, helps manage his break times, and holds him in their arms every night ... ❤️

Since Gregor has someone sleeping in his bed watching him sleep for the first time ever he has someone for the first time noticing he literally stops breathing for a bit before having nightmares and can thus order a CPAP machine. They were really banking on this making him less depressed but unfortunately Gregor's life was simply ruined during the time period he aged into the condition so he only marginally improves. They finally consummate the marriage and he's so brittle he can only go one round and falls dead asleep. They don't have the heart to tell him they have the drive and endurance to go all night. He seemed to really like the 10 minutes of cuddle sex and that's what matters.

(At no point is Gregor aware Dante can resurrect their contractors from the dead, which is the entire reason they were provided to him, and he will not find out until he loses the hunt spectacularly and is horribly dismembered.)

[twinsarekeepers]

Let me preface this by saying, I’m a pre-med student who works in a psychology lab as a research assistant and has also worked in a doctor’s office with actual patients. A lot of my opinions about this ending are informed by that aspect of myself, but that does not mean I don’t understand the incredible weight and horror of Joel’s decision either. I am also a writer and the narrative of a parent’s love being that destructive is so compelling.

However, it’s not more important to me than making sure people know how egregiously terrible the Fireflies are. Because the logic that something can morally outweigh informed consent is what has led to some truly horrific, catastrophic events in our REAL human history. Henrietta Lacks, the Tuskegee study, and the CIA’s fake vaccination drive in Pakistan come to mind immediately for me. These are all events that I encourage everyone to learn about.

Putting all that aside for now, objectively, Jerry Anderson was stupid and wrong in every way possible. You never ever want to completely destroy the subject you are working on, ESPECIALLY if that is the only one you have. Because wtf are you going to do if your experiment doesn’t work? You killed the one source! Literally anything would’ve been better than KILLING ELLIE?? Killing her should be the very last resort after exhausting every other possible avenue, which they didn’t. (Before someone tells me that I need to suspend my disbelief … no. The whole show is rooted in realism and that this is a possibility SCIENTIFICALLY … so I’m going to think about it with my science brain, I’m sorry!)

Now onto the part that I know y’all are going to get your panties in a twist about, Ellie herself and her capacity to give consent. Which in my opinion, coming from someone whose literal job it is to get informed consent, she did not have.

Bodily autonomy and agency is obviously very important but you would never let your child run into oncoming traffic because “oh, it’s their body and I’d be violating their autonomy and agency if I physically held them back!!” Like no. That’s a child that doesn’t fully grasp what they are doing or what is going on around them so you as the adult must make the decision to not let them harm themselves.

Ellie is a slew of red flags to someone who would be searching for participants for an experiment. For one, Ellie is a child. Getting informed consent from a child is already hard because their brains are not developed enough to fully grasp and understand what they’d be agreeing to. Two, Ellie has gone through immense trauma and is suffering from the worst case of survivor’s guilt to possibly ever exist. She literally feels like the only way to compensate for her loss is to die. She is the definition of passively suicidal. The way I would rule her out of a study so fast and send her links to every helpline I know. And yes, I know that she can never actually get the help she needs. But in my opinion, she is not in any way able to give consent and Jerry and nurses should’ve been very aware of that.

So, the fact that the Fireflies are just medically inept, and on top of that, didn’t care to get consent, and even if they had, it wouldn’t matter because Ellie is not in a position to be making that kind of decision, makes them very, very wrong.

Does that make Joel right? No. Because Joel wasn’t thinking about any of that. He believed that the Fireflies knew what they were doing, that they had a shot at making a cure and he also knew what Ellie would want (again, she’s still not a position to give consent but JOEL DOESN’T KNOW THAT BECAUSE HE’S NOT A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL) and he still chose to save Ellie over … the entire world. And then he lied to her about it.

(And the lie was to protect her emotionally because he knows she takes on so much blame and he doesn’t want to cause even MORE damage and pile on top of that insane survivor’s guilt … but lying to a teenager is never the way to go, they always know).

TLDR: it is very, very complicated!

[vesperadreamer]

Handler and Pilot Part 1

The battle field would be ours, this territory would be reclaimed and protected once the rebels were pushed back. The problem however was what happened during the battle and what I found, it brought us to a stalemate and caused us to withdraw. Here I was on the frontlines with my squad and pilots, each one trained and specialised into their role to provide safety and prevent casualties from ever appearing. I was their commander, a handler, a soldier. No… I wasn’t a handler yet as I didn’t have my own personal pilot, I’d only trained and had the aptitude for it but wouldn’t allow myself to have a pilot. I couldn’t handle that and I absolutely couldn’t risk losing them.

A shot rang out and I watched another rebel mech fall to the ground, a well placed shot always damaged the systems and prevented further combat from the mech and its pilot. Incapacitation over destruction and killing was a method that I always preferred when dealing with mechs and their pilots, in the long run we’d be able to rehabilitate the pilots we’d captured. I had to move over to my target quickly and open them up to remove the pilot, sedatives would allow them to be pulled back and prepared for transit. How unfortunate that not everything goes as planned.

The cockpit didn’t open no matter what I did, so I had to grab 2 mech pilots to rip it open for me and what I saw was horrifying. This was an old mech made to integrate pilots into their mechs and make them truly one thing, one machine, one creature. Even worse is they often drugged the pilots and turned them into weapons with no individuality or autonomy, only war machines that took orders that were often suicidal. We had to retreat, we couldn’t remove the pilot from this mech safely on the battlefield. We wouldn’t be able to help this pilot unless we got their mech back to base… Shit… I ordered the retreat and had the disabled mech and its pilot dragged back to base for further assistance in recovery.

The mechanics were called in as I looked over the dazed pilot and all the wires connecting into them, the rebels were truly monsters if they were using these mechs on their pilots. I had to carefully remove them from the cockpit if I wanted them to come out properly, I’d have to work with our mechanics to remove them. Unfortunately there was another issue, we had to remove them much faster than we wanted as the mech tried to euthanize the pilot as soon as the first wire was removed.  Medics immediately prepped a stretcher and the infirmary was damn well informed over comms to prep medicines for their incoming patient, I’d be damned before I let this victim of the rebellion die.

We rushed them to the infirmary and I was with them every step of the way, the rebels didn’t want this pilot to ever be allowed outside the cockpit and it was obvious they were supposed to die on the battlefield. I made myself a promise that I’d see this pilot recover and that I’d absolutely demolish the rebellion, even if I had to do it alone. When the pilot was finally stabilised, the medical team went to work looking over the pilot’s augmentations and basic health. I took my leave to get some information on the mech from the mechanics and engineers. The mech would be improved and made safe for usage if the pilot wanted to continue being a pilot, maybe we’d even be able to make removal safer if we came across another one.

The mech was much worse than I thought when I got the first initial report on the mech, it was specifically remodelled to be used for suicide missions and for the pilot to never leave the cockpit alive. Why was it this type of mech though, what did this pilot do to deserve such an unfortunate fate? No, I couldn’t be thinking about such things as my job was to help them recover and rehabilitate them, not to interrogate them about what they learned. The more I thought about it, the more they needed my protection as they obviously learned something they shouldn’t, I’d have to put out an order that nobody is allowed to ask them questions without my approval.

The pilot was being pumped full of drugs and especially neurotoxins meant to cause them pain when their mech was hit. I have no clue how much suffering they went through but I do know I’ll make sure they never go through it again. I began to write up a plan to keep them drugged yes, but it was also to help them recover from their previous hell over time. I could probably plug into them and check on their health and information, see what their profile says about them but only with their permission. We still had an old station on base meant to plug into more intimate pilot types, the ones who often chose to plug into their mechs.

A thought occurred to me, who had trained this pilot and given them orders? Who had previously handled them and gave them what they needed? I’d need to wait for the medical report and confirmation of them being fully treated before I could attempt anything. A handler’s job is to take care of their pilot and to guide them on the right path and choices, but many pilots are also without handlers which means they have to rely on themselves. I honestly didn’t know which option was worse for this pilot, having a horrible handler or never having had one and only being used as a tool. One headache at a time.

I was woken up by one of the medical staff as they handed me a report on the pilot, multiple toxins had to be countered and some of the ports in their body connected directly into their circulatory system. What was worse is that some of the ports were damaged and needed to be repaired, removed, and even replaced to keep the pilot stable during their stay. The ports for their circulatory system were to be removed and replaced with proper ports, though I requested for them to be limited to only 2 ports while the rest were healed up. The neural ports were to be limited to a max of 3 so as not to overload the senses, I’d be damned before I see a pilot have a mental overload.

I requested a regulator be implanted into them so as to prevent any withdrawals or negative effects from any and all drugs they got pumped full of, this would hopefully make them lucid enough in due time while also keeping them coherent and reasonable. This was the first time I had gone so far for a pilot, though this one was certainly in a hellish state. I needed to see them, to make sure everything went well. I knew they were going to be hooked up to machines but I never expected it to be more than 2, doctors moving round the clock to keep constant updates on the pilot. I could wait for them, I would wait for them.

You woke up in a bright, sterile room hooked up to machines before noticing the woman resting her head at your side, sitting in a simple chair. The last thing you remembered was piloting your mech, getting hit, and someone climbing into the cockpit and eventually pulling you out. You moved your head to look around and you could tell you weren’t in rebellion territory as the place was much too well designed and proper. This woman certainly wasn’t rebellion based on her attire either, so that left this as empire territory.

You began to remember some of how you got here, you were forced into that death mech and were supposed to die. You were still alive and in an empire base most likely, being taken care of and watched by their soldiers and staff. “You’re awake… I was worried…” You watched the woman lift her head and begin to stretch before she hugged you. “I’m glad you’re okay, that mech was a death trap…” You guessed this woman saved you, but for what purpose? “You’re safe now, I promise you’ll be welcomed here like family.”

You couldn’t be fully trusting, sure the empire seemed nice but so did the rebels until they tried to kill you. The issue however was when you came across friendly rebel pilots working with the empire and conversing with the staff. They seemed happy and content, once ace pilots now serving food, sweeping floors or even training soldiers in hand to hand combat. Those who were against the empire now being friendly and helpful towards it? It just didn’t make sense to you that once enemies are now friends.

The woman was pushing you around in your wheelchair, making small bits of conversation. “You’ll be able to reintegrate into the empire if you wish, you could stay here if you like and find something to do, or you can return to your mech if you really want to.” You didn’t find such things appealing, especially returning to that death trap of a mech. You looked to the friendly faces that passed you by, overhearing little bits of rumours about you and the woman. How she stayed by your side and demanded a retreat to save you, the thought of her retreating specifically because of you was quite the nice thought.

She wheeled you into a room with a desk and a mechanical alcove off to the side, parking you beside her as she went to work on her computer. It wasn’t hard to figure out what she was working on, it was a profile of you along with your time spent here recovering and being worked on. You noticed several medical procedures to lessen the burden and repair your body, less ports and more flesh, some replaced, removed, or even repaired and relocated. The empire, no, not the empire… This woman had used a lot of resources to fix you specifically.

As you continued reading through your profile with her, you noticed missing pieces of information that were left blank, something about a handler, previous medical history, affiliation, profession. Then you saw it; Previous Affiliation: Rebels. You figured it was a stain on your record that would bring out hostility and yet most were willingly friendly, and then she turned to you with a smile. “You don’t have to choose what you want to do right now, but we hope to help you find yourself in time.”

You remember what the rebels wanted, to fight against the evils of the empire and their oppression, to fight for one’s right to be what one wanted to be. You wondered if such a thing was actually the promises of the empire and whether the rebels were the ones causing suffering, not the empire. You’d probably be sent home if you asked, probably get to work a simple job too. You shook your head, you needed payback and you were sure this woman would allow it. You pointed towards the ‘handler’ section of your profile, curious as to what it was.

“A handler is one who guides and supports the mech pilot, we… They keep the pilot safe and on track, making sure that the pilot is always well taken care of and kept in shape. Pilots are people, not weapons or tools to be disposed of after all. I personally want to prove my point on how to make pilots more efficient by focusing on love and care, bonding and strengthening the relationship between handler and pilot until both care about each other deeply. Sort of like lovers if you will.”

It clicked. You knew this woman now, you remember reading about her proposing a new way of training handlers and treating pilots. Bonding through love and care for each other, affections given and received to increase efficiency and understanding. A supposed progressive in the empire when it came to pilots. There would be some risk involved on your side, but you needed her as your handler to achieve your revenge. You tapped the ‘handler’ section once more and pointed to her, causing her some surprise.

“If you want me as your handler… You will be returning to your mech… We modified it so it won’t harm you but you’ll still be required to plug into it. The drugs that get pumped into your system will be mildly enjoyable but they’re mainly meant to keep you running and healthy.” You gave a slow nod in understanding before she gestured to the alcove. “We’ll have to plug you in there first, we’ve already set up the tests to run if you’re up for it.” You gave another nod and she wheeled you over and plugged you into the alcove.

You could feel the drugs pumping into you as well as the neural interface stimulating your body, the woman however seemed to be observing you and a tablet connected to the alcove. “Vital signs are good… Lower the dosage…” You could feel yourself coming down slowly from the drugs that were pumped into you, giving you a more lucid state of mind. “Alright… Counter agents working well… Relaying visual stimuli…” Your sight changed and you were now watching from one of the cameras in the room before returning to normal.

“Everything seems to be in working order, you shouldn’t encounter any problems during your piloting experiences.” You gave a nod as she began to unplug you and look you over carefully before wheeling you off somewhere else. “I’ve no clue who you were before, nor does anyone really care. What we desire is unification and to restore peace, to reintegrate and rehabilitate those we capture so that they can return to a normal life. Criminals, rebels, it doesn’t matter who you once were. All children of the empire deserve a good life where they can enjoy themselves.”

The empire sounded nice, but it raised the question of why people would join the rebellion. Then it hits you, the rebellion is creating a problem that they promise only they can solve. The reason for your doomed mech was your knowledge and confronting the leaders, you learned the truth that you shouldn’t have. “Here we are, your modified mech.” You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at what was once supposed to be your coffin, it looked much more modern and up to date. “Now are you sure you want to do this? You can back out, you know?” You gave a nod, determined to return to the mech as the woman’s blade.

She slowly began to plug you into your mech as medical staff and mechanics looked on from outside. “Alright, let's get the commands and bonding experience out of the way first…” She stepped out and watched you carefully, your vision shifting to the mech’s sight. “Alright, raise your right arm.” You did as ordered and felt a rush of euphoria like being close to orgasm before it gently dropped. “Lower the dosage, I want them lucid… Now raise your left arm.” You obeyed once more and the euphoria was much tamer, like a gentle hug.

She kept giving simple orders for a bit before a counter agent was released into your system to bring you down gently. “There we go, you should be able to handle your mech more properly now without issues.” You gave a nod as she unplugged you, she was being so delicate and careful that it made you smile. You truly knew her now. “Handler.” Handler was shocked at your sudden speech, not ready for it but she still gave your cheek a gentle caress. “My darling Pilot, I’m here for you.” Once the last plug was pulled you fell into her arms and hugged her tightly, she was your Handler and you were her Pilot.

[beardedmrbean]

Problem is sometimes euthanasia can be the best option for some people

But y'know, everything depends on the situation

There was a young man from the UK, his girlfriend had tossed battery acid in his face.

I'm just going to do this, sticks with me since I think it was the first thing like this I ever really interacted with. Link

A woman threw acid over her former partner in an attack that left him with such "grotesque" injuries Belgian doctors agreed to end his life.

Berlinah Wallace, 49, is accused of murder and applying a corrosive fluid to Dutch engineer Mark van Dongen in Bristol in 2015.

Mr van Dongen ran screaming into the street in his boxer shorts with "horrific" injuries before being taken to hospital, Bristol Crown Court heard.

Ms Wallace denies both charges.

The attack on 23 September left Mr van Dongen, 29, paralysed from the neck down, unrecognisable and all but blinded, Bristol Crown Court heard.

Ms Wallace allegedly laughed and told him "if I can't have you, no-one else can" before throwing a glass of sulphuric acid into his face.

Prosecutor Adam Vaitilingam QC said the defendant "deliberately threw acid at Mr van Dongen, intending to cause him serious harm".

"She admits throwing it but denies any intent to cause him harm. She says that she believed that what she was throwing over him was a glass of water."

(oh yes people often mistake acid for water I'm sure)

Mr Vaitilingam said Mr van Dongen's "physical and mental suffering" drove him to euthanasia.

"Put simply, he could not bear to live in that condition. If that is right, we say, then she is guilty of murder," he added.

The court was told Mr van Dongen suffered 15 months of pain before being granted euthanasia in Belgium, where it is legal and where his family lives, in January 2017.

"He was examined by three consultants, who confirmed that this was, in their terms, a case of unbearable physical and psychological suffering despite maximum medical support," Mr Vaitilingam added.

"They agreed that the test for euthanasia was met, and on 2 January 2017 they inserted a catheter into his heart, which brought about his immediate death." ___________

Not really a fan of euthanasia, but as reasons go, I wouldn't fight anyone over this I don't think.

Now let's go to Canada.

Canada's Veterans Affairs office offered to assist a Paralympian and veteran to commit suicide when she sought to have a wheelchair lift installed in her home, the woman told lawmakers last week.

Christine Gauthier, a 52-year-old retired corporal who competed in the 2016 Paralympics at Rio De Janeiro, testified to lawmakers that a VA official had offered — in writing — to provide her with a medically-assisted suicide kit. The case officer remains unnamed but reportedly made similar offers to at least three other veterans, according to the Independent.

"I have a letter saying that if you’re so desperate, madam, we can offer you MAID, medical assistance in dying," Gauthier said in a hearing before the House of Commons veterans affairs committee.

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau condemned the incident in a public statement on Friday after Gauthier said she personally wrote him a letter on the issue.

(I don't believe for a moment trudeau is displeased with anything about this other than the press it's getting is making him look bad)

This woman here

Wanted one of these

And was given the option of ending her own life instead.

So ya, you're right and I'm showing here 2 fairly extreme ends of the spectrum when it comes to this kind of thing, there should be some dignity allowed out there and you shouldn't be forced to live in excruciating pain where every moment after the morphine wears off leaves you in agony.

He went and made the decision for himself to do what he did and several doctors signed off on it saying, ya dude's fucked and baring a miracle will be beyond miserable for the foreseeable future so we're gonna ok this request, coup de grace, mercy killing.

Then we have a mostly fit veteran, paralympian, athlete that would like to be able to go upstairs in the home they live in and the doctor hands them a brochure that says have you considered suicide. (probably far more tastefully put than that, but still)

So while you are right there are situations that call for it, having EDS shouldn't be one of them, neither should having OCD, Borderline, Schizophrenia or Bipolar,

and being poor should not be a factor included either

OCD, Borderline, Schizophrenia and Bipolar I haven't actually seen if they're offering it to them but with the fact that they are offering to people with mental issues I wouldn't be surprised.

This is not mercy, mercy is helping people heal that can be helped heal, it's a chairlift for someone. it's not a needle so they don't have to fuss with it

Canada's standards for this are already too loose and they're about to get looser, doctors that don't want to treat someone might start pointing folks towards this too.

It's wrong,

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Whumptember day 11

“There’s nothing else I can do” Last resort | Character death | Medical whump Content warning: implied suicide, Whumpee death. Potentially temporary death.

“Save them.”

Those were the words Whumper was greeted with as they opened their door. It was Caretaker, the persistent little thing that’d stolen Whumpee away from them, standing on their porch. They held an expression all too familiar to Whumper. There’s was a desperate, hungry face, the face of someone ready to sell their soul to the devil to fulfill their wish. Desperation, anger, resignation, all in a single expression.

Whumpee was cradled in their arms. They weren’t breathing.

There was no need for pleasantries. “I know what you can do.  Whumpee told me everything,” Caretaker’s voice shook, but the anger within was clear. “Bring them back. I know you can.”

Whumper eyed the body, curiosity piqued. “Since you went through all that effort to steal them, I thought you’d take better care of my pet. What killed them this time?”

Caretaker’s glare hardened, but Whumper could see a deep, overwhelming sadness filling their eyes. Their grip on Whumpee tightened, and Whumper couldn’t help but laugh as they realized. “I see… And you want me to reverse their decision, yes? I can’t imagine they’d approve.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Caretaker responded, voice tight. “Are you going to save them or not?”

Whumper paused, considering. They could do so. Death was nothing but a temporary state of being for them, one that could be reversed as easily as it was induced. It wasn’t a matter of if they could, but if they should bother. 

They looked into Caretaker’s eyes, gazing at their desperate determination. A smile crept onto Whumper’s face. “It will cost you,”

“Fine, that’s fine,” Caretaker’s response was immediate. “Money isn’t an issue.”

“What need do I have for money?” Whumper took a step forward, eyes alight with a predator’s glee. They pointed a finger towards Whumpee’s body. “I want them. If I save their life, they'll be spending whatever time remains with me.”

They weren’t surprised when Caretaker pulled away. “No! You’ve already hurt them enough. You’re the reason they're dead in the first place!”

“And I’ll be the reason they’re alive again, if you accept my officer” Whumper continued, unbothered. “They would remain dead without me; it’s only fair that they become mine once more in exchange.”

“What, so you can kill them again? No. They’d rather stay dead than that.”

“And since when did what they wanted mean anything to you? If it did, you wouldn't be here.”

“No.” Caretaker’s voice was firm, far more confident than their expression was. Whumper could see the hesitation in their eyes. After all, if they truly were unswayed, they would have simply walked away.

Whumper continued. “I was never unreasonably cruel to Whumpee. They were fed and cared for, never hurt outside of necessity. They were my assistant. A labrat at times, but a beloved one. I never killed them simply for the sake of doing so,” Whumper’s voice was a purr, smile lazy. “Isn’t returning to my care better than remaining dead? Don't they deserve another chance at life?"

Silence reigned over them for a long moment, Caretaker becoming as still as the body in their arms. They could tell Caretaker saw the words for what they were. A sweet poison, the apple in the garden, delectable yet forbidden. And yet Whumper knew that knowledge wouldn’t save them, Not with the weight of the alternative on their shoulders.

When Caretaker spoke, their voice was small and bitter. “Fine,” they hissed, trembling. “Just save them. Please.”

Whumper grinned. “I’m glad we have an understanding,” They turned, looking back at Caretaker with a raised eyebrow. “Bring them into the study, would you? I’m sure we’re both excited to begin.”

Caretaker didn’t speak. They followed, a lamb entering the lion’s den.

[midnightrings]

Okay, I decided to write down my predictions for the last episode. They might change throughout the week – especially as I’m planning to rewatch all the other episodes before the finale. But this is what I feel might happen as of now.

(under the cut due to spoilers, obviously – also: TW for mention of suicide)

First things first, the synopsis states that Tim will make a wrenching decision and combined with the title of the episode, I immediately got the feeling that the decision might be (assisted) suicide. From what I’ve seen in the tags, I’m definitely not the only one thinking that. Of course, this could also be a red herring – a synopsis is not supposed to spoil anything but meant to make you want to watch that episode. So this decision could be anything. However, Tim had 2 seizures by now, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he decides to end his suffering by himself.

Another possibility is that Tim will decide to refuse medical help of some sort. My guess is that he might decide to leave the hospital against the doctors’ recommendations, which might lead to his death. We’ve seen how passionate he was within his work and activism, so maybe he’ll decide to fight instead of resting, knowing that it’ll barely make a difference either way.

This is also where Hawk’s storyline comes in. I think that Hawk will decide to stand by Tim’s side for once, possibly even come out – to some extent, at least – in the process. Lucy will probably set him another ultimatum, but he might refuse to choose this time. He won’t abandon his family, because he does love them, but neither do I see him abandoning Tim either. So he might try and find a way for himself to combine his two lives.

Speaking of Lucy’s possible ultimatum, I can definitely see her try and convince Tim to send Hawk away. However, she’s been shown to be quite compassionate, so I’m not sure whether she’ll be able to confront Tim face-to-face while he is dying. Perhaps, her words will still convince him in one way or another to tell Hawk to let him go, but I can’t imagine it to be malicious in any way. And I believe that her ultimatum will probably be that she decides to leave Hawk. She, too, deserves to be free from him. I can see their marriage coming to an end here – be it through divorce or just deciding to live separate lives.

What I’m most curious about is what will happen in ’57. I feel like the final episode will mostly focus on the 80s – there’s still a lot left to unpack here. And with each episode, I’m less convinced that they kept Hawk’s betrayal from the book. Maybe I’m wrong, but at this point, Hawk has done more than enough to explain their relationship in the 80s. If I didn’t know that their 50s storyline isn’t finished yet, I wouldn’t expect anything more to happen. Maybe the ’57 scenes are only there because this is when their relationship ended in the book, and instead of focusing solely on the 80s and Tim’s inevitable death, they decided to add some happy moments too. Of course, it didn’t work out between them back then, so something must have happened, but it might not be that dramatic. Or maybe I’m just trying to convince myself that the final episode won’t wreck me completely and that there’s something to look forward to lmao

Overall, I have the feeling that maybe Hawk and Tim will make the mutual decision to say goodbye before Tim dies. So instead of Hawk running away or Tim pushing him away, they will part ways on their own terms this time. What I hope most for is that Hawk will tell Tim that he loves him. I’m prepared for everything else but I need Hawk to finally be open and honest with Tim before the whole thing is over.

[sawkinator]

ok you know what some of y'all truly do not deserve vet clinics.

Not in the sense that your animal doesn't deserve care, but in the sense that some of you are just True Fucking Assholes to those of us in the vet med field and don't appreciate what we do.

All of us - vets, vet techs, vet assistants, etc. - bust our goddamn asses for not enough money every day for your pet's health. We get peed on, we get scratched, sometimes we get bit, all so your animal can get its annual shots or the medication it needs when it's sick (and then sometimes we can't because some of y'all are too stupid to give the sedatives the vet has prescribed to your aggressive animal so that we can actually do what we have to do. If we have to send your pet home without it getting its full nail trim or shots or whatever because we couldn't fucking touch it without it trying to bite our faces off, that is not our fault.)

We literally, legally cannot refill a medication if your pet hasn't been seen within the last year. We legally cannot prescribe anything for your sick animal if we haven't examined it yet.

And if your clinic tells you they require payment up front at the time of your appointment? THERE'S A REASON FOR THAT. And that reason is that every clinic has experience getting screwed over by various people who promised to pay later and then never did. I've literally seen it happen. And if you're a small independent clinic like the one I work at you simply cannot afford that.

All that and you guys have the fucking AUDACITY to tell us we're only in it for the money or that we don't REALLY care about your pet because we won't make an exception for you specifically.

Did you know that veterinarians have one of the highest suicide rates of any profession? Did you know that on average vet techs only stay in the field for 3-5 years? Did you know that most support staff barely back above a livable wage? I bet you didn't! Because to some people all we do is cuddle puppies all day and charge people hundreds of dollars for it.

So next time you think about chewing some vet clinic employee out over how much something costs or for not being able to get your pet scheduled for its annual exam Right Now Immediately, consider this instead:

[gabatelepsychiatry-blog]

Postpartum Depression Symptoms

Postpartum Depression is the onset of a depressed mood and its associated symptoms within the first year of childbirth, lasting more than two weeks with or without treatment.

It is vital to seek help and treatment for postpartum depression. Failure to do so may result in long-term negative consequences for both the mother and the baby.

What are the Symptoms of Postpartum Depression?

Since postpartum depression arises during a time in a mother's life when society expects her to be happy about the arrival of her new baby, it can be very isolating for mothers.

Postpartum depression symptoms can manifest in a variety of ways. It may affect one's emotions, perception, ideas, and bodily experiences. Postpartum depression can cause hallucinations, delusions, and paranoia in severe cases.

Symptoms of postpartum depression are usually classified as follows:

Physical Symptoms of Postpartum Depression

Fatigue

Headache

Back pain

Muscle ache

Joint pain

GI upset

Abdominal pain

Low sex drive

Cognitive Symptoms of Postpartum Depression

Inattention

Impaired executive functioning

Impaired problem solving

Impaired neuroplasticity

Memory loss

Slow reaction time

Mood Symptoms of Postpartum Depression

Bad mood

Low motivation

Loss of ambition

Loss of enjoyment in activities

Loss of will to live

Sleep disturbance

Loss of appetite

Psychotic Symptoms of Postpartum Depression

Hallucinations

Delusions

Loss of touch with reality

Paranoia

When psychotic symptoms occur together with postpartum depression, this is known as 'Postpartum Psychosis'. It is critical to seek immediate support if such a situation arises.

Thought Distortions with Depression

Negative thoughts about oneself

Negative thoughts about others

Pessimistic thoughts about the future

Excessive guilt about the past

Low confidence in abilities

Low self-worth

Angry thoughts

Nihilistic thoughts

Suicidal thoughts

Existential angst

How can untreated Postpartum Depression Symptoms impact your Career?

Mothers experiencing postpartum depression may experience problems with:

Energy levels

Motivation levels

Attention

Concentration

Irritability

Engagement with colleagues

Reasoning and problem-solving abilities

Frustration tolerance

Productivity

They may require help to complete tasks, meet deadlines, or take excessive time off work. They may find themselves in conflict with colleagues and supervisors with whom they previously worked well.

Similarly, colleagues and supervisors may be perplexed, frustrated, and unsure of how to address the issue of change in a beloved colleague and friend. After all, nobody wants to be a "workplace bully" or impolite to a new mother.

Working mothers who suffer from PPD are also more likely to be passed over for promotion or even fired from their current jobs.

What is the Treatment for Postpartum Depression?

Finally, treatment for postpartum depression must address the underlying cause.

Check for medical causes of postpartum depression, including anemia, thyroid disease, Sheehan's syndrome, nutritional deficiencies, and polycystic ovarian syndrome

Establish sleep hygiene and work with a partner to schedule catch-up sleep times

Educate both the mother and the partner

Document workplace accommodations

Consider what assistance is required so the mother can continue working if desired or needs to take time off

Use available resources, such as childcare, and, if possible, contact family members, including grandparents

Nutritional supplementation, if necessary

Counseling on breastfeeding and other issues

Psychotherapy

Individual Psychotherapy

Medications if symptoms persist and interfere with social and occupational functioning

Alternative treatments include meditation, yoga, acupuncture, and exercise

Why is it important to get Treatment for Postpartum Depression?

Untreated postpartum depression symptoms can disrupt both your personal and professional lives. Consequences for babies include disruption of attachment and bonding, anxiety, failure to thrive, feeding difficulties, developmental delay, long-term relationship difficulties, cognitive impairment, failure to meet milestones, and difficulty with social or occupational functioning.

Effects of Postpartum Depression on Health

Significant drop in energy and motivation levels

Feelings of restlessness

Disrupted sleep cycles

Insufficient or excessive sleep

Chronic stomach issues, headaches, or body pain

Poor self-care

Help for Postpartum Depression

It is critical to seek treatment for postpartum depression. Untreated depression can have long-term consequences for academic performance, careers, relationships, and physical health.

Call +1(833)312-4222 for Postpartum Depression help. For more information, visit https://gabapsychiatrist.com/postpartum-depression-treatment/

Seek effective and barrier-free treatment from a board-certified and licensed Online Psychiatrist at Gaba Telepsychiatry.

[chaosandcrimson]

no way is that CORNELIA BELMONT.. they’re a 32-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being COLD  &  INFLEXIBLE but there are some people who have seen them being POISED  &  RELIABLE.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of platinum blonde hair in a tight bun, Louboutins clacking against marble floors, and secret tattoos in hidden places, but that could just be because they’re considered the GIRL FRIDAY around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..

My boredom's bone deep This cage was once just fine Am I allowed to cry?

OVERVIEW

Name: Cornelia Magdalene Belmont

Nickname(s): Nelly (only by family), Corny (by Tanner)

DOB: May 16, 2092

Age: 32

FC: Sasha Luss

Height: 5'10"

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Occupation: Personal Assistant to Alexander Drake

Relationship Status: In an undefined thing with Tanner Drake

[+] articulate, poised, reliable [–] argumentative, inflexible, cold

BIOGRAPHY

tw: kidnapping, assorted violent crimes, ptsd, death

Cornelia's family, or rather her stepfather's family, has worked for the Drake family for generations. She grew up in close proximity to Tanner, whom she can rarely go one interaction with without the two of them disagreeing at least twice.

Her mother married her stepdad when she was still a baby. Her biological father, a member of the mob, spent her entire childhood in and out of prison; but in spite of that, they stayed in touch with each other and remained close.

When she was 15 years old, she got “kidnapped” by her bio dad which ended up triggering a statewide search for her. In reality, it was a little more complicated than that. She had asked him to come and get her, but he showed up without warning, beat the crap out of the boy that she was on a date with, and made her leave with him immediately without saying goodbye to her mom or stepdad.

Things became even more tense between them when, to evade capture, her dad killed at least two people—one murder which she witnessed firsthand.

The authorities eventually caught up to them close to the Mexican border. There was a standoff during which he held a gun to her head before realising what he was doing and letting her go. He was set on suicide by cop, but after she begged him to stay in her life she managed to convince him to turn himself in.

The experience left her with pretty severe PTSD when she returned home. She has since been in therapy and been medicated on and off. She is mostly fine, but her anxiety becomes unmanageable when she's under too much stress.

Since then, she has become much closer to her stepdad, to the point that she sees him as her actual dad and calls him her dad. However, she does still stay in touch with her biological father and visits him in prison whenever she can.

After graduating from business school, she became one of several personal assistants to Alexander Drake. Because of her close ties to the family, she was often the one trusted with tasks of a secretive or sensitive nature.

When Yag died, she took it incredibly hard, and being one of the few people who knows what really happened wears on her constantly; especially since it's now her full-time job to keep an eye on him and make sure that he never finds out the truth. She loves him to the ends of the earth, and she hates the fact that she has to lie to his face about who he is every single day. But it's her job to do what Alexander tells her to do regardless of if she agrees with it or not.

Despite how much he frustrates her, Tanner is the only person in the world she can actually confide in. He lives to antagonise her, but he is somehow also her closest friend and the only one she feels can fully understand her experiences.

MISC

She has three small tattoos: one on her ribcage, one above her hip, and one on her inner thigh.

[positive-meme-experience]

Introduction to safety planning: The Stanley-Brown Safety Plan

TW: Suicide, mental health crisis

Hi! I wanted to try giving a primer on safety planning as it is something I have a lot of experience with. I will be focusing on the Stanley-Brown Safety Plan and touching on means safety as part of that.

What it is

https://988.ca/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/Stanley-Brown-Safety-Plan-8-6-21.pdf

The Stanley-Brown Safety Plan is an evidence-based document that is meant to assist a person who is building up to or having a mental health crisis. Think of it like a fire drill. We do them because, in moments of crisis, the part of the brain responsible for rational thinking and problem-solving tends to go quiet. Fire drills get practiced so that, even when you can't think clearly, you know what to do. Similar sort of thing. When a person is having a mental health crisis they probably aren't thinking clearly about what they can do to stay safe. This document, if referenced during a crisis, can help remind them of their options.

Who should do it

Anyone with a predisposition toward mental health crises of any sort. It's often used with people who have suicidal ideation, but I've also done them with only slight modification with clients who are prone to substance abuse or anxiety attacks. It's better to have one and not need it than the other way around. I have one that I fortunately haven't needed to refer to because I believe in leading by example.

When should it be done?

Before crisis strikes! While the person is stable and able to think clearly. If a crisis is already ramping up and you don't know what to do, call your local mental health hotline (988 in the US) or emergency services such as 911.

Filling it out

I'll go through and talk about each question individually. Most questions have spaces for a few answers, depending on which format you use (an app or the form I linked)

Warning signs

These are anything (thoughts, feelings, behaviors, situations/triggers) that let you know that you're starting to go into crisis. Note that feelings can be emotional or purely physical. Can be immediate (rapid breathing, panic, thoughts of self harm/suicide) or longer-term (not sleeping well for a few days, not bathing, not taking medication etc.) These will look different from person to person and require some introspection. If you're helping someone else fill it out, you can mention things that you've noticed are precursors to bad mental health. The idea behind this section is to recognize when things are getting bad early enough to start intervening.

Internal coping strategies

Coping strategies that don't involve other people. Something you could do if you're home alone and your phone is dead. Can be coping strategies you learned in therapy (square breathing, mindfulness, etc.) Or things that just help you take your mind off of things until you're regulated again (hobbies, listening to music, going for a walk, spending time with pets, etc.) Should focus on non-harmful strategies, so avoid things like drinking or getting high. There are lots of possible answers, so it's really just whatever helps the person get back to baseline.

People and social settings that help provide a distraction

Anyone you could potentially call to talk or hang out that would help you take your mind off of things. Can also be people you live with. Doesn't have to be someone you're comfortable spilling your heart out to, just someone who can help distract you until you're feeling better. Similar thing with places. Sometimes just getting a change of scenery can be helpful. If being somewhere dark and quiet helps you regulate, you can put that, though the idea is preferably somewhere you're not alone, like the library, a park, the mall, etc. Again, try to avoid things like the bar as alcohol can make things worse.

People you can ask for help

Distinct from the last question in that these should be people you trust a bit more. Once distractions and coping skills have failed, who would you contact saying, "I need help?" Someone that you can talk to about what's going on, and who could feasibly help you call emergency services or drive you to an ER/crisis center. Can be friends, family, caregivers, staff where you live, etc.

Note about the people sections: Should include phone numbers on the plan so that you don't have to think at all to reach them. Also, best practice is to let people who are on your safety plan know that they are, especially in the "ask for help section"

Professionals or agencies you can contact during a crisis

Generally, people like mental health or medical professionals. If the person has a therapist, you can put them here. Or a trusted doctor. Someone with a bit more training than the typical person.

This section is also where you put down the address of the nearest ER or walk-in crisis center so that, safety permitting, you can go there in person without having to call 911. (Calling 911, while sometimes necessary, often leads to having to deal with police, which can be less than ideal when dealing with a mental health crisis depending on where you are.)

Making the environment safer

This step is where you think/talk about lethal means safety. There's a lot to it, and if you're in a position where you need to support someone who is a high suicide risk and you have limited access to professional help, I recommend you look into "means safety" and "Counseling on access to lethal means" ( aka CALM). In brief, you want to identify any specific methods the person may have thought of. Typically, when someone has suicidal thoughts, there's one or a few specific methods their mind tends to go to, and research has shown that if they actually become actively suicidal their mind will go to that method. If You can limit access to those methods such that it takes even just a few extra minutes, you can save their life. Things like hiding knives in a lock box or having someone else hold onto medications until they need to be dispensed can make a huge difference!

A note about guns: firearms are incredibly deadly to a suicidal person. Some people are very resistant to giving up their firearms, but as I mentioned, even just delaying access to them by a few minutes can be helpful. If you're trying to safety plan with someone who owns firearms, look into local laws about storing them elsewhere, letting a trusted family member hold onto them, etc. Gun safes where the at risk person doesn't know the combination or even just storing ammo separately can make a difference.

What is the most important thing to you that is worth living for?

This question isn't on the one I linked, but it is on the one I use for work. I think it's worth noting, even if you have to write it in. The only "correct" answer is the honest one. What is the one thing (are a few things) that will stay your hand if push came to shove?

Additional resources

Suicideprevention.mhrrg.com has some excellent videos about suicidality and means safety

Zerosuicide.edc.org has some great info about suicide, including a course on CALM. I don't remember if you have to pay for the course or sign in through an organization, but if not it's a great thing to learn about.

Also, I would recommend looking into whether or not your local community mental health centers run walk-in centers (WICs) as they can be a resource if you don't want to call the police or go to the ER.

[flowercrowncrip]

whats the worst encounter of ableism you've had, online or irl?

whats the funniest encounter of ableism you've had, online or irl?

whats something you see thats overhyped in regards to disability or cripplepunk?

do you have an ideal mobility aid or ideal disability aid in general?

feel free to skip any/all :)

cw: suicide, ableism,

1-The worst encounter of ableism I've experienced was from a psychiatric nurse my GP referred me to during a mental health crisis. I told the nurse that I was having thoughts about ending my life and he told me that he felt sorry for me because my physical disability meant my life would never be worth living. Obviously "you're doomed to feel this way forever" isn't a safe thing to say to someone trying to get help during a mental health crisis. If he could have done more to help me end my life I think he would have, and this is one of the reasons I'm so afraid of the risks around assisted suicide for disabled people.

I feel the need to add that several years on from that appointment I'm so happy that I'm alive. I've had 15 months of therapy and I'm on meds that work for me, I have the right support and equipment to manage my conditions, an extremely fulfilling job, and an amazing support network. My disability is worse than it was back then but I feel so much more content with my life.

2- The funniest example of ableism is more a story of ableism in the sense that no one had thought properly about disabled access. Only the result was that me and some other students accidentally broke into a nightclub.

I was at uni making a video with a group of disabled students for disability history month. We were filming in the student media centre which was on the first floor of a shared building. On the ground floor and basement there was a nightclub. All of the organisations shared a lift.

So we go up the lift while the nightclub is selling tickets during the day, but in the time it took for us to finish filming, the nightclub had closed and locked up. We didn't know this, so just took the lift back down when we wanted to leave. Immediately as we stepped out the lift, the burglar alarm went off.

It was the loudest thing I have ever heard in my life. It was so loud that it was totally impossible to think. All we could do was try to get away as quickly as we could so we went to the doors, which were obviously locked.

So we went back up in the lift away from the noise to figure out what to do next. We called the campus security and tried to explain what was happening but they didn't seem to get it. Eventually they told us that they were heading over our way anyway (because of the alarm) and would check in on us when they came.

When they arrived they were knocking on the lift door convinced that we were stuck in there. When we said we were stuck in the building, not the lift they didn't get it.

They looked at us, a group of disabled people including someone with a cane, someone using crutches and me, very obviously a wheelchair user, and told us if we couldn't take the lift we could "just take the stairs".

I had to awkwardly point out that wheelchairs don't go do down stairs at which point they became very embarrassed (which I won't lie was quite funny)

In the end we had to wait an hour or so for the owner of the nightclub to drive up to campus with the keys and alarm codes and it was all fine.

3- I think that the value of independence is overhyped everywhere, including in disabled spaces. I've seen a lot of disabled people state that they're somehow better than other disabled people who they view as less independent than them. Relying on mobility aids, medications, carers, family members benefits and other supports don't make you less strong, less deserving or less anything.

I really struggled with my own feelings around this when I was a teenager. I found it so hard to ask for help because I thought it made me a "bad disabled person", and seeing that insecurity reflected back at me from other disabled people online only reenforced it.

4- My ideal mobility aid would be a fully waterproof electric wheelchair. I'd love the sensation of rain or hail in my face without being stressed about my chair. Or be able to go to the beach along one of those mat things and into the sea.

[opinated-user]

What do you think are some of the worst things lily has ever done?

in no particular order, just from what i can immediately remember:

-abuse Lizzy emotionally and then slander her using her real legal name for three years after the break up.

-catfish Brittany, someone LO knew was a victim of abuse, to manipulate her into giving in to her sexual whims.

-take advantage of Patch, a disabled neurodivergent person going through a lot on his own, just to satisfy her sexual fantasies.

-emotionally abuse MO during streams and her general treatment of her disgust me.

-steal fanart for her videos without permission and then accuse the artist of being "divas" when they don't like that.

-gaslight her audience about things anyone can google to debunk.

-say "stop pestering me about this" to an indigenous anon who was informing her about how her avatar was digital brownface.

-weaponize the gender of a trans man against him because he dared to criticize her.

-the constant verbal abuse she makers her audience go through. this includes yelling at Opal for making fanart she didn't like and then refuse to accept Opal's apology or give any herself... only to later lie that she did, showing that she knew that was wrong of her to do but can't own it like an adult.

-the cultural appropiation of Cherokee culture.

-her constant suicide baiting towards her critics is horrifying.

-call one of those critics a school shooter.

-constantly excuse antisemitism or engage on it herself openly, but still want to use nazis as a common insult for anyone who disagrees with her or any character she doesn't like. all the while refusing to aknowledge that her syths were literally inspired by fascists.

-shoving her incest kink on the face of everyone on her audience without any warning. this includes lying about the two lesbian lovers that live on her apartment as much as constantly adding incest into her stories.

-lie about being physically attacked multiple times but never making mention of getting medical assistance, making her audience and her friends to worry over nothing.

-lie about having a dead daughter, making a fictional character based on that fake daughter, only to later sexualize that character based on her fictional dead daughter who fictionally died as a toddler.

-punch her sister so many times and then leave her on the ground crying... only to later talk openly about that like it was no big deal.

-use her own ethnicity as a shield, but also ignore all other BIPOC who ever told her she was wrong about something, that she makes them uncomfortable or that she's actively being racist.

-prioritize her dislike of certain white people or white characters (Linsay Ellis and Hunter) over learning anything from BIPOC content creators or their culture.

-her queerphobia.

-the 3D sankaku porn accounts.