#past suicidal ideation

[queer-cosette]

Here we go, the first original song I've ever posted online.

Hard Loud Fast is about my experience with suicidal ideation as a teenager living in the FUCK zone of overlapping depression, anxiety, and undiagnosed ADHD. It gets explicit with what exactly I was thinking about doing, so PLEASE proceed with caution. I'll post the lyrics under a cut just to be safe.

I'm no longer suicidal - I wrote this after talking to my therapist and realising there was a whole bunch of shit that I'd just... never processed. I'd boxed up a lot of stuff in the back of my mind and never examined it, largely out of shame. I hope to write more - there's a lot more to process, and I need it known that this dark stuff is coming from a good place: I'm healthy and happy enough to examine it now without being overwhelmed by it.

Hard Loud Fast lyrics

Grey’s reserved for Mondays, Friday should be gold But Friday’s turning grey now - I’ve never felt this cold I’m walking through the station And everyone is waiting For the train I’d get to take me home

Passing through the turnstile, lurching down the stairs Feels like every empty gaze is an accusing glare I can hear the train now I’m sick of all this pain now I kind of want to jump to see who cares

I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna die I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I still don’t know why Do I really want to take that leap While everyone here is watching me? I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna say goodbye

Gotta make my mind up before the train arrives Maybe dead I’ll get the respect I didn’t get alive I hope my friends will miss me And my ex will wish she’d kissed me One last time, ‘cause this decision’s finally mine!

I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna die I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I still don’t know why Do I really want to take that leap While everyone here is watching me? I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna say goodbye

Maybe I just want someone to see me Maybe I just want someone to hear me Maybe I just want someone to stop me Someone to understand

What would I do if somebody saw me? How would it feel if somebody heard me? Would I be glad if somebody stopped me? Reached out and took my hand? If for once someone held my hand?

I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna die I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I still don’t know why

I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna die I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I still don’t know why Do I really want to take that leap While everyone here is watching me? I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna say goodbye

I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud (Maybe I just want someone to see me) I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna die (Maybe I just want someone to hear me) I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud (Maybe I just want someone to stop me) I want it to be fast, but I still don’t know why (Someone to understand) Do I really want to take that leap (What would I do if somebody saw me?) While everyone here is watching me? (How would it feel if somebody heard me?) I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud (Would I be glad if somebody stopped me?) I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna say goodbye (Reached out and took my hand?)

I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast I don’t know what I want…

[kronoose]

Younger me I'm not making it passed 17 so I'm not gonna really care about my grades

Me now 23 high as balls wondering how the fuck I've survived this long and listening to people talk about a podcast

[wombpala]

dean suicidal ideation is like. no I'd never KILL myself bc that's selfish and ignoble and probably somehow gay it's not that I want to KILL myself I just happen to know that 1 day, probably very soon, I'm going to die epically in battle. and okay fine. so maybe it will look cool (like in the movies). and maybeeeeee I will have some super noble honorable quippy poignant last words lined up... and maybe just maybe it will be a little sexy when I fall into the embrace of the simple elegant hero's death that has been denied to me for so long and cement my archetype and do what I'm supposed to do the only thing I know how to do and put my vengeful spirit to rest once and for all.....but I don't want to kill myself or anything 😎😎

[adhdandcomics]

every pharmacy is out of all adhd meds they won’t tell me where i can get some bc it’s a controlled substance so i just can’t get any my doctor wouldn’t answer my call my state ballot office told me the post office has my absentee ballot and they haven’t sent it back so i go to the post office and the post office told me they sent it back. 🕺🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼 i think i’m done being alive but i almost have a reward on my local coffee punch card 🕺🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼 so i guess we’ll keep on going 🕺🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼 ✨

[ronkeyroo]

Hanging On ✄ - - - A Thread

[57sfinest]

no honestly did jean genuinely not realize that the car in the ocean was a suicide attempt?? did he really think harry was THAT drunk or was he willingly misinterpreting it so he could shift any sympathy away from harry? because i can absolutely see jean seeing it as a suicide attempt but deliberately choosing to frame it as an irresponsible accident resulting from harry's alcoholism, because that way no one will be like "oh shit harry tried to kill himself?" and they'd instead join jean in condemning harry for his addiction

[paingoes]

Crash Out - Reflection

Birthday, shower thoughts, shrooms

Paris reflects on the birthday incident and his life in general

(Content: whumper turned whumpee, (ex) royal whumpee, living weapon whumpee, whumper POV, past abuse, abuse apologism, dehumanization, beating, drugs, addiction, body image, minor emeto, suicidal ideation, guilt, death mention)

It was his birthday and the same night everything was destined to be destroyed. The Castle Thales seemed to know this and did its best to look haunted. The warmth of her presence broke through all that was the cold and crystalline. She was the only one he could stand to speak to.

Everything had been fine until they’d ended up back in the main hall and that old argument started up again.

Delta knelt at the side of the throne with the golden chain around his neck. All the bruises had been painted over carefully. He looked bored more than anything else. One hand played idly with the thread of the carpet. He did not see them come in.

Lorelai went rigid just as soon as she saw him. She pulled away from Paris as harshly as if he’d hit her.

“…You really keep him there all night?” she asked in unease.

He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. He didn’t want to go through it again now. Not on his birthday. He wanted a single fucking night where he didn’t have to think about it.

“Yeah,” he answered flatly. Obviously.

Her expression darkened, “And you make him wear a leash.”

“Who cares?”

“I’m sure he does,” she said, “Can you imagine how he feels?”

“Oh my god, are you still on about that commie shit?” He moved one hand to his hip, his irritation deepening. He was tired of explaining this. She wouldn’t understand.

“You are mean,” she said. She said it like it was a revelation, like it was something that was supposed to surprise him. Like she was finding it out now for the first time.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“You’re worse each time I see you.” 

Something like horror was dawning in her eyes. She was the only person he cared about in the world and in that moment, he swore that he hated her.

~

One year later, in the bathroom of a rundown motel, he washed the dirt off of his hands and carefully re-bandaged all the places the skin had torn. The air was heavy with steam. It opened up the shredded membrane of his throat. It distorted his reflection.

“Can you imagine how he feels?”

The thought came to him without warning, but with the kind of day it’d been, it didn’t come as a surprise. And he couldn’t have imagined it, not really. He’d never spared Delta the time, or even the consideration.

But he was starting to. He could almost imagine it, forced down onto his knees by the barrel of a gun, the blindfold tied over his eyes. He’d treated it like it was nothing. Empire demanded sacrifice — from everyone. It was all just more of the same.

He wiped at the mirror to reveal the litany of bruises along his skin. His body was turning into a minefield of scars. It was meth thin, and tired often. He’d done such a number on it.

~

Twelve hours earlier, Lorelai’s ship had pulled down onto the clearing of the festival. For all that had happened, the partying had went on uninterrupted throughout the entire trip. She’d asked if he wanted to skip it for a little bit, since his head was fucked, and since his body was fucked, and since he’d almost died. He said no.

It didn’t take them long to disappear into the crowd, about as indistinguishable from any other pair of losers in their twenties. She could get along with anyone — and he was finding it was a lot more tolerable to talk to people when they didn’t know who he was.

They found refuge in the company of the spring-breakers. College students. They were easy to work. The fine arts student pulled a knitted pouch from within her purse.

“No. None for you. Don’t give him any,” Lorelai insisted, popping a handful of the shrooms into her mouth.

“I’m fine,” Paris said.

“No. You always freak out.”

“I’m literally fine.”

“Don’t give him any.”

They waited until her back was turned before making the handover. 

“I took it,” he said, the moment she turned back.

“Are you fucking crazy?!”

~

“You know what? Fine.” He yanked at the chain around Delta’s neck, harder than he needed to. He slid the key into the lock. The chain clattered loudly to the floor.

“Fuck both of you.”

He stormed out. It was freezing on Thales that night and he could barely feel it. He was hot. He was burning all the way through the wood path.

He stomped up the ramp of the ship and all the way to his room.

Empire demanded everything. It would erode away at any happiness he might’ve gotten, any other life he might’ve had. He would give and give and give and get nothing and still keep at it endlessly. He’d made his peace with it. 

He thought he did.

And still he thought he might have her. 

Empire would rob him of that too. It was the final intrusion, one final act of self denial.

He handled it with all the grace of someone off six different stimulants.

He tore his room apart and he took everything in it. He was in the grip of it. All the scorn and betrayal bubbled up and coiled and burned. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

She belonged to him. 

They both did. 

~

Through the thin walls of the motel room, he could hear her on the other side. She laughed softly, her voice indistinct as she took the call.

She could never know. He’d tell her almost anything, but this she could never know. 

He tried to imagine saying it to her now. He tried to imagine telling her what he’d done that night. The fear and the shame coursed through him like ice. He never could. 

Everything he owned fit inside of the trunk of her ship. There was so little that belonged to him anymore. 

~

The shrooms crept up on them about midway through the set. They hit her first. He saw the way her eyes dilated, the little mania that crept into her movements, and knew he did not have long to go. Sure enough, the colors shifted, and the strange vibrations through his body picked up in synch with the bass.

He thought it was fine. In the busyness and brightness of the crowd, he could almost forget that it was his destiny to freak out each time he went on psychs. It was only as the sky darkened and the music quieted that he felt it crawling.

They were in the woods. Why hadn’t he realized it until now? He stumbled back to the college kids’ little outpost and found that they were surrounded by woods on all sides. He was on the ground. He was in the dirt. Something large and tiger shaped crested in his periphery. Something dog-headed flashed behind his closed eyes — and the harder he tried to push the thought from his mind, the more it wanted to stay. He whined miserably into his crossed arms, hiding his face in the grass.

“I told you not to take it,” Lorelai sighed, combing her fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, meaning it. 

“Shh,” she said. She kissed his temple. “Just ride it out.”

~

It was so easy to blame Delta. He’d gotten into the habit of it. And Delta took it so endlessly. He never fought back. 

Paris would never be happy. He’d known it for a long time. Empire demanded sacrifice. It demanded and demanded and demanded. Paris would give to it endlessly, everything. He did everything for it.

He was so fucking sick of it.

He did not dream of a better life. He dreamed of dying. He dreamed of crashing the ship into the side of a mountain and killing everyone onboard. He dreamed of unlocking Delta’s collar at the ball and unleashing upon all of them a fury that they’d all done everything to deserve. He dreamed of death in a million different ways.

Paris hated his life. He hated Empire and that nuclear bomb they had built up in his brain, the child they’d ripped from his home and turned into a machine, the fucking symbol of all that had ever gone wrong. Real evil burns and coils and glows. It destroyed cities and cut civilians in half. It cauterized wounds and bled from the mouth. It was down there now, with one of Lorelai’s hands pressed up against its own.

Because Delta was so fucking blameless. He’d never had a choice, he heard Lorelai’s voice in falsetto.

What fucking choice had he had, either? Delta got to be blameless. And he got to be worse each time I see you. He got to be mean.

He did the last of the line off of the cracked sink.

He’d show them fucking mean.

~

He felt around in the space between his ribs. He traced careful fingers over the star-shaped scar on his chest and then again over the bandages on his palm. It still hurt nearly too much to touch. He didn’t know when it would heal again. They’d stitched it up for him at CTRL and they had not even done it painfully. He hadn’t understood why. He still didn’t understand why.

The word mercy tasted sour against his tongue. It spun sickly within his mind. 

Wasn’t he just a little bit disappointed when the gun was removed from his mouth, when his life was extended any longer than it had to be?

And wasn’t he so devastated when he learned that he was spared?

He traced the scratches along his arms. Delta’s claws had gotten in deep. It was some of the last traces of him left on the earth. All the rest was buried at the bottom of the ocean.

It wasn’t fair.

He didn’t deserve it.

~

One of the art students gave him a sketchpad just to shut him up. He took it, grateful to give any form to the horrific intrusions.

He drew wolves, mostly. Wolf heads. Lorelai laid down on the grass beside him. The others were sprawled out a bit further away. 

She wanted to share the paper with him. He held it in between the two of them. His drawings were scary, at first. All the wolves had eyes in their throat. All the lions had teeth like knives.

But she filled in the empty space with vines and flowers until it looked like a jungle you’d find in a children’s book. She said she wished they had paint. He remembered she’d been good at that. They’d have gotten a lot of mileage out of it. 

He felt his fear dwindling. He felt guilty that he let it.

He knew he freaked out whenever he took it. He did that with most things, really. Did he even like drugs? Why had he taken it?

~

Paris barely heard him. So much adrenaline coursed through his system that even seeing felt like an impossibility. He didn’t bother holding back anymore. He didn’t want to.

The impact broke the mirror open and scattered the shards all across the floor. He threw Delta roughly down on top of the broken pieces, not caring. The glass crunched beneath his boots, crystalline, iridescence.

Everything was ruined. Everything was ruined and there was no coming back. There was no hope.

He pulled his leg back and drove it straight into the side of Delta’s rib, listening for the crack that followed. He hated it. He hated all of this so much he could not stand it. He was spiraling, he knew, completely lost in the goddamn tantrum. He didn’t care. He wished they’d both just fucking die.

He yanked at Delta’s collar again, dragging him into the bathroom. He was going on about some shit that Paris didn’t understand, that he couldn’t even begin to care about. If he’d been listening, if he’d really been anywhere but inside his own head, he might’ve noticed that Delta had been crying. That he’d started begging. He didn’t notice. He took a rough handful of his hair, forcing his head back down whenever he squirmed too much.

The water reached the rim, and he’d forced his head under that, too.

Delta laid gasping within the tub, the thick strands of his hair slick and wet across his face, his wrists bound up in chains. He’d tried to speak again. He couldn’t. Paris clamped a hand over his mouth. He didn’t want him to speak, to interrupt his own spiral. He wanted to feel it all, to drown in it.

“I hate you,” he said.

And Delta’s eyes got wide, probably wondering what he’d done wrong, as if it’d ever been about him at all.

~

He tried to throw up, but nothing could come out. He hadn’t eaten in days. It’d become habit. His hands were shaking and his nose was bloody and the hot steam of the bathroom made it so that there was no coolness to the tiles. He felt no relief even as he pressed his skin against them, as badly as he wanted to lie down on the floor and never get up. He was sick.

He could still hear Lorelai through the door, the faint sound of the phone call, and of her music playing in the background. She seemed to know, always. He heard her rising up from the bed, a gentle knock at the door.

“Paris?” she called softly through it.

He winced, closed his eyes. How could he ever begin to tell her?

He was sick.

~

Did he even like drugs? He asked himself this again and again, still sprawled out on the grass, still with her beside him. The night was on in earnest now. Thousands of stars peppered the sky. The music student said there would be a meteor shower tonight. Maybe they’d get lucky.

Why had he fought so hard and so fiercely? They’d come all this way, across a hundred different planets, across an entire year. He’d dragged her from her home and across the galaxy. It was such a desperate bid.

He must have wanted to live. This was the behavior of someone who wanted to live.

And so why had he gotten drunk every night of the trip, and each night before that, ever since he turned fifteen? He’d taken the pills off the street when he could afford to pay for the real thing. He’d forgone the test kits, when it was no trouble for him to get them. He’d taken more than he should and he’d picked fights he couldn’t win. He’d spent hours prodding at Delta, at an atom bomb, just hoping for something-

He hoped the ship would crash sometimes. He hoped the stars they passed would explode without warning. He hoped for one thing, desperately, and he had for as long as he could remember.

I want to die.

It was a quiet admission. He could only say it in his head. Lorelai was tripping too hard, it would throw her in a bad way. But as it surfaced, there was no way to submerge it again. It rose up all at once.

Death evaded him. It was denied to him. Was he ever relieved afterwards? He wasn’t. He hadn’t been.

The world was cruel as it was endless — and it was out for him. He would die just as stupid and evil as everyone else had been.

But then they’d been so careful when they pulled him out of the grave. They’d bandaged his hand and stitched it without hurting him, even when they had every right to. They’d given him blood from their veins when his own had run out.

Lorelai’s hot tears had fell onto the bare skin of his clavicle. She’d clung to him when he was found. She didn’t want to see him in pain. In spite of everything.

She killed for him.

I want to die.

And as soon as he admitted it, he didn’t want it anymore.

“Lorry, I think I need to get sober,” he said.

She turned over in the grass, whining a little bit.

“Me tooooooo. Why is it lasting so long?”

“No, like, permanently.”

“Oh.” She poked her head up. “Are you serious?”

His hand rested against his chest. He could feel his heart beating beneath it, quick and painful. The same frantic rhythm it’d been honing for years. He nodded.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

Her face turned back into the grass. He looked back up into the sky, waiting for his heart to settle down, waiting for meteors. Absently, her hand reached out for his own.

~

On the morning after his birthday party, Paris woke up with sick clarity, and he knew he’d done something he could never take back.

One week later, Delta was dead and the kingdom was lost.

~

Paris stood up roughly from the bathroom floor. He pulled a clean shirt over his head and combed his hair out with his fingers. 

As he looked up into the clouded mirror, he remembered the shards that had spilled out onto the floor of Delta’s room. He’d broken the mirror.

Seven years of bad luck.

He was sure he’d earned himself so much more than that.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @whump-queen

[hughgrants]

it's time to block again lmao

[waywardsou2]

Drunk!Logan x Drunk!MaleReader: Part 7

Summary: Logan and you are making slow progress in this new found connection. It's good and all you want is to be near him.

Word Count: 800+

Tags: Fluff, comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, Logan is a softie, reader is even softer, talks of suicide but no suicide actually occurs

After your first date you and Logan kept things simple. And on the down low. Neither of you were exactly ready to take what was going on between you any further.

Don't get it twisted thought, both of you definitely had very strong feelings for each other, but it was too soon to make anything official. And the two of the shared that notion.

So, you kept things quiet, and you kept them private. Trying to stay unassuming. Although you couldn't deny that even your platonic relationship had changed and become noticeable to others.

You would still see him in class, but rather than dropping his coffee and leaving like you used to, you stayed for a while. Sitting on one of the cabinets by his desk or even on his desk in front of him during his breaks. Leaving before the children filed in but staying long enough for the two of you to chat. Sometimes you left, giving him a chaste kiss as you went.

Other times he would find you out in the gardens like he had the first night, joining you as you studied the orchids. Committing the view to memory even in the dim light. Moments like those were important to you after spending too many years locked up in a white and grey cell.

Logan would join you, his elbows touching yours as you rested on the fence dividing the properties. But after a while, he began slipping an arm over your shoulder, or even your waist and holding you beside him. It was gentle, his intentions clearly comforting.

And you enjoyed his attempt at getting close to you, it was nice. You only wished you had the guts to make a real move yourself.

And one night you did. You had attempted to actually sleep for once, but as usual sleep never came. But instead of sneaking out into the gardens to walk around in the crisp night air, you made your way to Logan's room.

At first you faltered, thinking this was a bad idea. You wanted to turn away, but you also wanted to knock and just be with him.

Before you could make either decision the door swung open, Logan standing in a white tank top that hung off his frame and blue boxer shorts.

You felt blush creep up your cheeks, had you been that noisy walking down the hall?

He also looked slightly embarrassed himself, there was a trace of eagerness in the way he was looking at you as you stood in his doorway.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" You ask

"Nah-" he replied "-I wasn't asleep...but I smelt ya outside. Was worried something was wrong"

You swallowed at the idea that Logan was so attuned to your scent, but you tried to not let that get to your head.

"Everything alright?" he asked

"Yeah...just, needed some company"

Logan stepped out of the doorway and gestured for you to come inside.

You walked in but now that you were here you felt awkward, you hadn't ever been in another person's dorm room and certainly not Logan's. You stood there, unsure of what to do next

Logan stood there as well, but he was the bigger man out of the two of you and as usual was the one to make the first move. He stepped closer to you and cupped your face in his hand, sighing.

"You sure everything is alright?" he asks again

This time you don't respond. He gets the idea.

He takes his other hand and holds yours with it, and slowly begins to walk backwards and pulls you with him until he sits down on the bed, and you fall down beside him. Your hands still connected.

"I just...-" you try to say something, anything but words fail you. Like usual

You hated to sleep, even when you tried it was hard and when you did all you could hear were the memories of nightmares, the ones you had actually lived. That moment in your school, your time in the MRDA holding facility. The echoing screams of you and your fellow prisoners as the MRDA conducted experiments testing the limits of your mutations. You wanted it all to go away. You wanted to blow your own head off in hopes that the nightmares would stop. But you wouldn't die, and you didn't think that death would grant you such a mercy.

"-I just need you to hold me" you say instead. Like a coward, because you can't face up to the fact that Logan might care about you and genuinely want to know about what haunted you. So, you bury those feelings for a little while longer, shoving them away to be replaced with the warmth of Logan.

He shuffles over to lie down in the bed and pulls you with him. You sink down into the sheets, resting your head on his chest as he tucks his arm under you and pulls you close to him. Holding you tight.

The fuzz on his arms tickles the back of your neck as he rests it just above the neckline of your shirt.

All of him is so comforting and nice. And... exactly what you've been missing. The cold darkness of your past seemed to ebb away with the warmth that emanated from Logan, and not just the physical warmth but his presence was so soothing. The care he showed you, the compassion, the empathy despite your own coldness in the beginning.

You snuggled into Logan further trying to soak up his warmth. To absorb as much of it as you can, for the fear that as soon as he left you would never be able to feel this warmth again. To feel his warmth.

Your eyes began to grow heavy as you listen to his deep breathing. The sound lulled you into a tranquil calm that you hadn't felt in a long time.

As you drifted off you felt Logan move a hand to brush some stray hairs away from your cheek. He lent down and kissed you softly on the top of the head.

He whispered something you only just caught before the darkness overtook you, and you were sure he only said it because he thought you were asleep. But it made your inside warm up in a way that made you feel like you were glowing.

"Goodnight, my little fighter"

Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the others but its a filler chapter. The next chapter will be a lot more fun tho

Also keep in mind this is a fic on my Ao3, so if you wouldn't mind checking me out and giving me some support there as well that would be greatly appreciated

[inkykeiji]

i’m currently making a list of reasons to stay alive and i just need you all to know that you’re on it, every single one of you.

thank you for being here with me, thank you for reading my writing, thank you for sending me the sweetest, cutest, most thoughtful little messages and questions. it means more to me than you’ll ever know, and i love you so much

[einsatzzz]

I passed my exam let's fucking goooooo!!!! This is one hell of a huge thorn off my chest, like this whole exam thing has been deadass constantly plaguing and stressing me out for a whole year, I'm so glad it's REALLY over now.

I knew I'm gonna receive the results around this time and even if I told myself to not give a fuck abt the results (self-worth≠exam results) my brain says otherwise (and mental illness also doesn't work that way unfortunately😔). So had to shut down and lock down my brain for a while when I can 😭😭 I even slept for like 14-16hrs each night shfvshvfsv don't wanna do anything stupid (I did try to reduce my sleep hours to normal amounts the other day, but got an anxiety attack instead from being awake when im not distracting myself)

Anyway, I think I can sleep a bit more peacefully now. I'll slowly go answer the asks and reply to dms/notifs tomorrow, I'm just so relieved right now that this is my current state -> 🫠🫠🫠🫠

Note: I also defeated my first boss (and a few minor bosses) in eld/en ri/ng yipeeee (<-forgor to continue playing for a while but needed a distraction, now i've made good progress there)

[queer-cosette]

SO I wrote and recorded an original song about my experience with suicidal ideation as a teenager, would anyone want to hear it?

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

What's fun about RSD is that my mom made two (2) small comments about how annoying I am and I immediately started thinking of the least dramatic ways I could kill myself so as not to be a further nuisance to those around me and now I can't shake that thought, so that's fun.

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 31

My beloveds are here to send off Whumptober <3 It's been a truly incredible experience to not only stay on track with, but to actually complete. I still can't believe I did that. I'll be continuing some of what I started here, just give me a minute to rest my typing fingers <3

Content warnings for: mental health evaluation, mentions of suicide, and suicidal ideation.

Therapy

“Seriously?”

“Come on, Dec. Lay down, relax.”

Declan frowned and reluctantly reclined back on the couch, resting his head against the arm.

“On your back…”

“I could not give less of a shit, Hasan.”

“You can’t calm down when you look at me.” Hasan crossed their knees, settling a clipboard in their lap. “This is supposed to be a therapeutic environment.”

“Therapeutic my ass.”

“Yes, darling? Shall I give it a massage?”

“Shut up.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes.

“A spanking then, love?”

“Fuck off, Hasan!” He shot up and bared his teeth, but they ignored his discomfort.

“How often would you say you experience little or no pleasure in doing things?”

“Every single second I have to deal with your sorry self.”

Their clothes rustled and something clinked on the coffee table next to him. His eyes flicked over to see Hasan setting down their belt, the heavy buckle meeting glass.

“Tell the truth and I won’t use it today. Or anything else for that matter.” Well, his attention was piqued but he still leveled his gaze, glowering. “Now tell me again. How often do you experience little or no pleasure in doing things?”

“What kind of things?”

“Let’s say hobbies. Watching television, playing games, and so on.” They were clicking their pen in the silence.

“Probably half the time,” he mumbled.

“Would you say several days this past week, or more than half the days?”

“Picky much? The latter.”

“How often have you felt down, depressed, or hopeless?”

“It’s a little hard to separate my mental health from your influence.”

“Estimate, my dear. You’re stalling.”

He was, but his question didn’t come without merit either.

“Every day then.”

“Do you experience trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, or sleeping too much?”

“Sometimes. Depends how much you torture me.”

“Touché. Have you been experiencing tiredness or low energy?”

“Constantly.” The pen circled another number. “You know I’ve done this a million times before, right? I know I’m depressed.”

“You told me before that you were in remission.”

“Something like that, at some point. I’m not perfect.”

“I didn’t say you should be. I want to understand your state of mind, sweetheart. Have you had a poor appetite or been overeating?”

“Not really. Probably no.”

“Alright. And do you feel bad about yourself? That you’re a failure, or have let people down?” 

“No, Jesus, you just want me to talk about being miserable.”

“Declan.” They raised a brow, flicking the belt buckle. “Truth. Now.”

“...sometimes.”

“Interesting.”

“Don’t interesting me-!”

“Have you had trouble concentrating on activities?”

“Yeah, on weekdays. Always checking the goddamn time for some reason.”

“And how about speed? Are you moving so slowly or so erratically that others would have noticed?”

“That’s a question for you, isn’t it?”

“What answer would you expect?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“I would agree. And in the past week, have you had any thoughts of hurting yourself, or thoughts that you would be better off dead?”

“I think you hurt me enough for the both of us, Hasan.” Declan crossed his arms and turned away, staring into the cushions. “Circle the one and leave me alone.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“Excuse you?”

“You know precisely what I’m asking.”

“No, asshole. No I don’t. But if you wanna pink slip me, then be my guest.”

“Just covering my bases.” Hasan stood, picking up their belt.

“Woah! You said you wouldn’t!” He shoved himself back into the couch, watching with wide eyes as they threaded it back through their belt loops.

“I did indeed.” They fastened it and picked up the clipboard, tucking it under their arm and tapping it again with the pen. “We’re going to keep that in check, whether you like it or not.”

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Whumpril 2024 - Day 23 - Presumed Dead

I'm shameless and I'm not going to apologize for it. Miguel is @whumpr's as always!!

TWs: assumed death, blood, referenced suicidal ideation, grief, kidnapping, drugging/fantasy drug overdose resulting in coma

"Brat!" Dimitri's voice rang out in the tiny room, tight and horrified. "Bastian! Bastian, he's over here!"

Mariano lay sprawled on the floor, bruised, skin almost grey in the light of Dimitri's flashlight. He wasn't even restrained. There was almost too much blood to seem real.

Dimitri sprinted forward, gathering him up in his arms. "No--no, Mariano open your eyes." He pressed his fingers to a too-limp wrist, gripping Mariano tighter when he couldn't feel anything.

He wasn't making any move to wake up. There was no flutter of lashes, no little pathetic noise of him clawing his way to consciousness. There was nothing.

Bastian caught himself on the doorway, breathless from his run down the hallway. Distantly, Dimitri could hear the others fighting the people who'd taken Mariano days ago. The huge dragon fell to his knees beside Dimitri. "Dimitri--hey, he...Dimitri?"

When Dimitri looked up, his gaze met terrified silver eyes. Bastian's hands hovered near Mariano, like he was afraid to touch him. "They drugged him, right?" Bastian asked, voice shaking just so. "I can't feel him."

Dimitri swallowed hard. "I..." He didn't want to say it out loud. He didn't want to tell Bastian, to be the one to break the news to him about what had happened. About how this was the last place Mariano saw. About how he bled out in pain, in a little grey room, alone with people who wanted to hurt him.

Mariano hadn't wanted to die like that in a long time.

"They gave him pact dampeners, right?" Bastian pushed, his hand coming to rest on Mariano's chest. Mariano's head fell backwards over Dimitri's arm when he was shifted again, and he made no move to raise it to a more comfortable position. "That's what's going on, right?

"Right?"

"Bastian, I--" Dimitri started, voice failing. He tried again. "Mariano is--"

Something caught his eye. The glimmering scales on the back of Bastian's hand sparkled as they slowly, so slowly moved in the light. But he wasn't shaking. And neither was Bastian. Readjusting his fingers, Dimitri felt the smallest, fluttery heartbeat at Mariano's wrist. He laughed in disbelief. "I think so. Go get Manuel, he'll be able to tell."

Bastian didn't question it as he scrabbled to his feet, already out the door before he was even properly upright.

Dimitri held Mariano closer, pressing his lips to Mariano's forehead. "You fucking cockroach--" He laughed. Mariano didn't respond, but as Dimitri moved two fingers to press to his neck, he felt another blessed heartbeat. "Scaring us like that, you'd better be glad it was me and not Miguel. Just hold on, we'll get you home soon."

@whump-captain @whumpr @whumperofworlds @lektricwhump @cyberwhumper @bxtterflystxtches @inscrutable-shadow @honeybees-125

[chaotic-orphan]

Whumptober No.20

Emotional angst

Shoulder to Cry On // Giving Permission to Die // “It's not your fault.”

Omg I am so behind whumptober so get ready for whump drabble dumps over the next two days

TW: suicide, suicidal whumper, suicidal ideation, suicidal ideation, aftermath of whump, bad caretaker, emotional whumpee,

*~*~*~*~*

Caretaker slammed on the brakes of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition as he ran to the edge of the bridge.

“Whumpee!” He cried.

Whumpee looked over her shoulder at him, and it almost stopped him in his tracks. Her face was grey and papery, her eyes dead, lifeless. Hopeless. “Don’t… don’t try and stop me, Caretaker.”

“Whumpee, please. Please don’t do this. If you do this Whumper wins!”

“I don’t care about Whumper,” Whumpee said, her voice surprisingly calm and steady. “I don’t care about your revenge. I don’t care about any of your plans for me, using me. Get your revenge on your own. I can’t do it anymore.”

Whumpee turned her head to the icy black waters crashing five hundred feet below. She didn’t want to continue living anymore, she didn’t want to be haunted by the memories. She was sick of Caretaker only caring about her for what she could do for him. He was just like Whumper.

Hell, maybe he’s worse.

It didn’t matter now.

She didn’t have anyone other than Caretaker left in her life. What did that say about her? That nobody would care if she actually died except maybe Caretaker, he would have to rethink his revenge, and… god, Whumper would probably care too and it made her sick.

“Whumpee, don’t. Wait, it’s not your fault!”

Whumpee let out a sharp, cutting laugh into the night air. She ran her hands through her hair, pulling at the strands. She was staring so long at the waters that it felt like the distance was shorter, moving in and out, longer then closer like an accordion drawing in and out.

How was her balance so good? How was she not falling from the railing right now? Why hadn’t she jumped already?

“Whumpee… please. Please, you don’t want to do this.”

Whumpee scoffed, glaring at the sky instead. Then with the feline grace of a cat she turned 180 degrees in place to face Caretaker.

“WHUMPEE!” Caretaker screamed when Whumpee tipped back, her knees bent as she flapped her arms to keep herself up. He was closer now, a hair’s breath away but Whumpee saved herself, like she always did. Her eyes burned now with something so like a wrathful god’s ire, something that stilled Caretaker and made him pause.

“Be fucking honest for once in your life, Caretaker!” Whumpee spat. Caretaker straightened, his chest heaving, his hands still outstretched but no longer reaching, now they were cajoling, trying to calm the beast that he woke in Whumpee. “You don’t give a shit about me. The only reason you’re here right now is because you need me to hurt Whumper for you.”

Caretaker swallowed. “Yes,” he said and Whumpee suppressed the flinch at the confirmation of their worst fears. “At first you were just a means to an end, Whumpee. Someone I could use to destroy Whumper once and for all, but then, I don’t know when, but something— something changed between us.”

Whumpee glared as he stepped closer but she didn’t say anything, the wind pulling and yanking at her dark hair.

“I know you felt it too, right? That’s why this hurts so much. You think I betrayed you like Whumper did.”

“No! Not like her.” Whumpee said, and her voice sounded strangely emotional to her ears, or maybe it was the wind. “I always knew she was a monster, but you? I trusted you.”

“I know.”

“And all this time I find out that I’m just a pawn in your game.”

“Whumpee, you don’t understand. That was the old plan, before I—”

“Oh, so you were going to tell me in this new plan, were you?” Caretaker hesitated. Whumpee scoffed, throwing her hands up. “I knew it. You’re so full of shit. I won’t be Whumper bait, Caretaker, and it is disgusting that you would consider asking that of me.”

“Please, Whumpee, please get off the railings and we can talk, please. We can talk like we did before, okay? I’ll be your shoulder to cry on and I’ll tell you everything from here on out, just please,” he pleaded, his voice breaking, “get off the rail.”

Whumpee shook her head. “You’re just saying that because—”

“I’d rather you be alive than get my revenge on Whumper, Whumpee,” Caretaker cut in, his voice hard, brokering no argument. The words pulled at Whumpee’s chest. “Please, please get down. We can talk about this, Whumpee, I promise you. I’d give up the idea of revenge before I ever considered giving you up. Please, please don’t go.”

Caretaker was below her now, stretching his hand up for her to take, and— oh, Caretaker was tearing up. The tears not quite falling yet, and Whumpee sniffed and took his hand. He gently set her down on the ground and immediately wrapped her in his arms.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” Caretaker said. Whumpee rest her forehead against his shoulder and slowly, terribly slow, she raised her arms and wrapped them around his waist. She didn’t say anything, because she didn’t have to. They both stayed there for how long she didn’t know or care. She could hear his heartbeat against her ear and that was enough for now.

It had to be enough.