#suicide widow

[kellyscabin]

passed down like folk songs, our love lasts so long

for seven years of the widower arc.......

[nostalgicbones]

THE PROPHECY | DESTIEL

W I D O W E R D E A N

pad around when i get home / i guess a lesser woman would've lost hope / a greater woman wouldn't beg / but i looked to the sky and said P L E A S E

( youtube | my amvs )

[yelenabemylova]

'escape' - natasha romanoff x reader

summary: it was fine before, why isn't it still?

warnings: implied suicide, implied drug abuse, mentions of self harm, just not a fun fic tbh !

“Tasha?” you carefully moved to sit in your girlfriend's lap. “Yes, malyshka?” she gently kissed your cheek, causing you to blush.

“Do you really have to go to work today?” you pouted at her, trying your best to convince her to stay home.

She covered her eyes with her hand, “detka, you know I can't say no to that face.” You giggled, “so don't.” Natasha reached for her phone and called someone, “Hey, Fury. Yeah, everything's okay. Am I okay to work from home today? Perfect. See you tomorrow.”

You jumped up off of her, running to your bedroom to get pyjamas for you both. “Thank you Natty, I love you!” you hugged her tightly.

Your shaking hands dialled her number you knew off by heart for all the wrong reasons. Her phone was going straight to voice mail and you hadn't seen her all day.

���Hi, Natasha. I'm getting a bit worried about where you've gone, I haven't heard from you since yesterday. Just let me know that you're safe, please.” your trembling voice left the 3rd message for her that night. You were hesitant to finish it off by telling her you loved her. It certainly didn't seem like she felt the same recently.

She'd been going away for ages at a time, unannounced. No matter how upset she made you, she'd just say “I'll fix it,” and then repeat her actions. You yearned for a comforting touch or some reassuring words, yet you had never received them.

You struggled quietly with your suicidal thoughts more and more each day. No matter how much you tried to evade them, they'd always find a way to come back stronger. You wished you could tell your girlfriend, but she was never even there to speak to.

Every time you tried to have a serious conversation with her, she'd listen, say a few emotionless words and leave the house without an explanation. You worried about her, but you also worried about yourself.

There was no more space on your fragile skin to cut. Considering your options, you decided that you had had enough. Work was too stressful, your ‘escape’ from it all was supposed to be comforting and peaceful, however you just felt more and more alone each day.

The bathroom was always stocked with medication, old painkillers for your migraines and such. Opening the cupboard, you slowly picked out the Vicodin from last year.

When Natasha returned home later that day, she wished she had never left.

[beatsheetromanroy]

it's a passion it's a hobby it's a LOVE LANGUAGE

[themalhambird]

The world is not real: Charlotte cannot touch it. This -news-, this tragedy  is not real either, and it cannot touch her. There’s too much cotton in her ears, there’s an endless, keening chime slowly boring through her skull- in at one temple, out at the other- a continuous line, all the way through…

She is sitting on the sofa. There’s a cup and saucer cradled in her hands. She doesn’t remember picking it up, but the steam is ghosting over her face. It’s fresh. (Her husband is dead). Polly must have given it to her. (Her husband died at his own hand.) They have a visitor, she ought to be showing more hospitality. She wonders if there’s any of that fruitcake left. (Alfred confessed to murder. Alfred confessed to murder,  and then Alfred murdered himself)

“Mama?”

Polly’s voice, soft and tentative as it is, makes her jump. Tea sloshes, spills over, pools in the delicate saucer. She shakes herself and focuses her gaze on Sir Julian. “That’s not,” she tries, but the sound barely forms. Charlotte pauses, swallows, tries again. “That’s not right,” she says, unsure if she’s really addressing Sir Julian Harker or merely facing his direction whilst trying to bargain with a Higher Power. “That’s not- none of this is right, Alfred wouldn’t- he wouldn’t do any of it, any of this…” But he has. He has, he has, he has, and when he comes home she’s going to skin him alive. “What will we do?” she asks, as the first beginnings of fear worm their way through the numbness of shock. “The disgrace of it-”

“Mama!” Polly cries, indignant. “At this moment, of all moments, your thoughts cannot be of what other people will think- what does that matter, what do any of them matter!”

It matters because they have never been reckless with money, but savings will not last forever and Charlotte doesn’t know if the widows of Police Inspectors who confess to capital offences and then take their own lives qualify for any sort of pension. It matters because the disapprobation of society in any circumstances can be death by a thousand cuts, whereas the widow who has the sympathies of her community has a better chance at maintaining a somewhat genteel situation. It matters because the infamy of the father will cast a shadow over the life and the character of the daughter- the best chance for Polly, now, is marriage, but what respectable, decent man would want a father- in- law six feet deep in unconsecrated ground?

“Mrs Hillinghead,” Sir Julian says solemnly, “I wish to assure you that you and your daughter will have the fullness of my protection. The events of the last twenty four hours- they will not reflect on you, nor on your daughter. You have my word.”

She acknowledges his words without really understanding- it will not be until much later, lying in a too-empty bed and staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep- that Charlotte will consider that Harker told Polly about Alfred’s death before he told her, that he stood as close to Polly’s chair as proprietary allows for, that he has seemed- these past few weeks- to admire Polly: her beauty, her music. And perhaps nothing will come of it but friendship- , but the friendship of a man that powerful is not an asset to be scorned. And if it turns into anything more…

They were nineteen, she and Alfred, when they married- they had been friends their whole lives before that. And she had known about him:  years before they had married, she had known that  his desires steered his eyes not towards the ranks of giggling, frivolous girls who batted their eyelashes at his well built figure and handsome face, but to other members of his own sex. And she had ignored it, because she knew him: he was too good a man to act on those desires. And he was kind, and gentle, and they were friends, and a husband who would be perfectly happy to conduct a marriage with minimal activity in the matrimonial bed suited Charlotte. She had courted him as much as he had courted her, really, although whether he ever realised that…

And he’s dead. Her best friend of nearly forty years. The murder confession, she has already written off- she neither knows nor cares about the details. If it was a false confession, then he confessed to try and protect someone- probably that journalist, given the confession it prompted to her, and she is furious at him. She is furious at him for not protecting his wife and child, and for not letting the journalist face whatever justice he merited- unless, of course, the man threatened to reveal Alfred’s inclinations, and take the Inspector who had detected his crimes down along with him. That seems, to Charlotte, the most likely explanation. And if the confession is- was- true, then Alfred must have had good reason for taking another man’s life: she has seen him carry spiders in the palm of his hand to release them outside, rather than squash them underfoot; she has listened to him vent his frustrations about officers being too heavy handed with their arrests at more dinners than she can remember. Taking another human life…it must have broken something in his mind, which would explain being in such a state that he would…. It does not matter. Alfred is dead, either way- she is a widow, either way. And she will encourage Julian Harker’s friendship, because if Polly can catch him she will have a comfortable home, and a husband who seems a good hearted and generous man. And she, Charlotte, will grieve Alfred Hillinghead. But if his death unravels into the scandal she fears, then she will take care to grieve him quietly. She will survive this. She has to. She has to survive this so that there’s someone who remembers that Alfred Hillinghead played cricket as a boy and took two sugars in his tea.

[crybabycunt]

(with her bow drawn taut, Kate prepares to release an arrow at the enemy. however, just before she can let it fly, a dagger swiftly streaks through the air, narrowly missing her head and finding its mark in the enemy agent)

Kate: No one likes a show-off, Yelena.

Yelena: Unless what they're showing off is cool as fuck.

Kate: (under her breath) Fuck. That's true.

[fandom-garbage]

HELLO!!

I am writing a paper for my English class and I need participants. It is about female Superheroes and Supervillains. If you don't recognize the character I encourage that you just write anything you think regardless. It can be about their appearance or what you think they are like based on vibes alone. Please be honest this is entirely anonymous and there are no wrong answers and the longer the answer the better!

[spn-rewatch-ventzone]

Okay okay okay I’m a Dean girlie but Dean’s grief does not excuse him completely disregarding Jack’s suicide attempts

[badolmen]

Was talking with my mother the other day about the Boeing Whistleblower’s murder being framed as a suicide and she casually drops that the same thing happened to one of the union leaders my dad worked with. Would go on Facebook with a puppet account and a bag over his head documenting the company’s various legal violations. Two weeks before his daughter’s wedding he kills himself. Nobody believed that - he was happily married, healthy, and financially secure with no prior indications of depression or mood swings. But it was still ruled a suicide and everyone just…moved on I guess?

Like, I understand the Boeing whistleblower, but some random utilities union guy? Jfc he gets offed for bad mouthing the company and what we just go on with our lives? How are you not radicalized by this???

[gej69]

bet 99% of problems would be gone without a character but they are too iconic to cancel

[davecumstaine]

He said: (◕ㅂ◕)

[hum--hallelujah]

the fact that Thriller (the only thing I haven't done yet is die/and it's me and my plus one(s) at the afterlife) is on the same record as (After) Life Of The Party (I'm a stitch away/from making it/and a scar away from falling apart [...] kiss away young thrills and kills on the mouths of all my friends) and Hum fricking Hallelujah (*gestures at the whole song*) and GOLDEN????? when I say Hum acts as a touchstone for IOH this is what I mean

[the-oaken-muse]

A Man Called Otto (2022) has the same vibes as Up (2009), but, like, if Carl Fredricksen was suicidal

Thank you for coming to my one sentence movie review

[isdalinarhot]

Bad things will happen to Dalinar in kowt but it’s okay because I support him no matter what he does and I’m there to give him sweet kisses and decent sex when he’s worried about the context of champions and he loves me and I love him and on the surface it’s like gay man Dalivani but on a deeper level it’s so much more than that….. Dalinar………….. oh my goodness……………

[binary-dontknowher]

Went to see A Man Called Otto tonight. Thought it sounded kind of dumb from the trailer but hey, I'm a Tom Hanks fan and I have an unlimited pass to the theater, so why not.

I was very pleasantly surprised at this movie. It was soooo much deeper than the trailer let on, and Tom Hanks and Mariana Treviño did a masterful job at their roles.

I know a lot of people think this movie is about (tw) suicide, and partly yes. But I think Andrew Garfield's talk on Stephen Colbert's show explains it best.

Andrew Garfield describes grief as "all the unexpressed love" that a person has. I believe this perfectly explains Otto in this movie.

Otto was a gentle soul, a very loving and accepting man, his whole life. Sure he doesn't have a lot of social skills, but once you push past that you see his genuine love and care for others. But when his wife dies, this changes. Otto has been giving his love for years, but now that his wife is gone and his best friend is estranged, he has no one to share that love with. So he sinks deeper into his grief until he feels like he has no purpose other than to take his own life and join his wife.

And then Marisol moves in. She and her family give Otto the outlet he needs to express his love, looking past the rough exterior. And through that, he is able to learn to love himself and others again.

I loved this movie and I could talk about it for hours, but I'm gonna go see it again before I do. I would highly, highly recommend going to see it.