#tw: suicide ideation

[daisyridleyedits]

“I feel greatly for people who don’t see their own worth — who think, like Fran, that their lives are not that interesting. They are fucking interesting. We all feel, to a certain extent, like everything has to be fireworks for anything to be valid. It’s obviously not true. There’s beauty in talking about someone who’s okay that her life isn’t full of fireworks because she likes it like that... We’re all fighting something that other people can’t see, and meeting people with kindness and grace and warmth is really the most any of us can do. It’s really uncomfortable, being human. A lot of the time, it’s really fucking hard. But, ultimately, to try is to succeed.”

—Daisy Ridley for Inverse about Sometimes I Think About Dying

[tenderleavesbob]

"I didn't think I would ever see you again, Big Brother," Time said quietly, stepping beside him.

Warriors smiled at him. Once again, he drank in the sight of his little brother. He was taller, impossibly older than Warriors now, and so mature looking it broke Warriors's mind a little. The twinkle in Time's eye soothed him somewhat. It was still his Mask. Just bigger.

"You can't get rid of me that easily," Warriors said. He said it easily with a warm smile like his heart hadn't shattered when the final portal closed.

Mask had wept as he walked through the portal. He had begged Warriors to let him stay. Told him that no one was waiting for him on the other side. That had been proven wrong, but for many nights, Warriors had stayed awake and wondered if he should have fought for Mask.

Warriors didn't tell him that he never thought he would see him again, either. He didn't tell him that he feared he would never know if he made the correct choice. There was no need to Time to carry that burden, too.

No need to tell Time how close it came. How Warriors had been one choice away from guaranteeing they never met again in life.

After the last portal closed, Warriors's world had seemed very dark and very quiet and very lonely, after all.

Warriors grinned and threw an arm around Time's shoulders. He had to shift upward instead of downward and Time's shoulders were certainly broader now, but Warriors could adapt. He always did, whether he wanted to or not. "There's four of us now. I wonder how many more there will be in the end?"

Nah. There was no need for Mask to know many things during the war, and there was no need for Time to know many things now.

[jujutsukgojo]

The bell tolls for me

satoru gojo x reader

Summary: “Say it.” The few times he has spoken to you, they are always the same. He wants confirmation of your evil. No matter how you word it, he isn’t satisfied until you say it plainly and he’ll only hear the worst part of it.     He doesn’t want reason, he wants pain, hatred, and anger. It is what is keeping him going.   You will give it to him for now.  “I killed them.” 

1.5k+ words tw: angst, illness, mental illness, ptsd, depression, mentions of death, spoilers, i think suicide thoughts (?), idk what else (if there's something let me know!) i'm not an expert on mental illness or a doctor! i don't own jjk either.

Gojo wipes his face with his hand. Despite his eyes being rightfully considered divinity, they cannot beat the exhaustion. He hasn't worn a blindfold or glasses in about a couple of months or so. He can’t really remember the exact number anymore.  

   He spies a single white petal fall in front of his window. He sees pollen in the back and a few people walking around. He hears the bell toll once again. Satoru understands that the people of his past will never hear it again. They will never see the petals and sneeze from the pollen anymore.  

The bell rings again. God, he could swear that the bell is only for him.  

   “Gojo? Are you ready?” He hears a small voice that causes a heaviness in his chest and an icy hatred in his bones. You.  

He ignores you completely, making you sigh at his behavior. It isn’t a secret that he hates you and when he is up to it, he’ll kill you. All because you failed. You completely betrayed him and those who mattered most. Rather than finishing what you promised, you went against it and did something he just can’t forgive. 

You are disgusting, vile, stupid, hideous, a failure of a being.

You whip out your jar of bones and begin the healing process. Ever since the Culling Games, you have had to learn to deal with these newfound abilities that totally destroyed your life. Yet, that destruction has also given you a purpose now. The usual healer, Shoko, has been extremely busy lately because of the aftermath of the Culling Games, Kenjaku, and Sukuna. So, when you were discovered during all of that, you were immediately put to work.  

   And your abilities had fit for a plan that you messed up.  

You work your fingers to thread the crushed bones into Gojo, who remains silent. You know that one wrong move and he’ll rip you to shreds. Until then, you might as well make up for it by healing him and taking the pain away.  

Opening another jar, you take a finger out of it. In the palm of your hand, colors swirl all around. The bone reshapes into a softer and smaller structure, something easier to swallow. You hand it to Gojo, childishly hoping that he would give you something to work with. A smile, a thank you, eye contact, anything.  

   You receive nothing.  

You place it down on the desk and take your leave.  

“Was it worth it?” Quickly, you turn your head around to see Gojo still staring out the window. “You know-” 

“Say it.” 

“There was no hope, Gojo. None at all.” 

 “Who said?” Sighing, you turn to him fully. “He did, Satoru.” 

Satoru stands up. You have to try to stare into his red rimmed eyes. They’re mesmerizing jewels, precious things that see and know all. They're damaged from the strain and the pain.

 “Megumi didn’t want to live, Satoru. You can only save those who want to be saved. Him and Geto never wanted to be.” 

  “And Tsumiki?” 

“She was dead the moment she was cursed, way before she woke up. I didn’t even know her. I had nothing to do with that.” 

  He takes a few steps forward. His long legs carry him to you. He’s menacing and tall. Majestic and radiating a power that you could never handle. 

“Say it.” The few times he has spoken to you, they are always the same. He wants confirmation of your evil. No matter how you word it, he isn’t satisfied until you say it plainly and he’ll only hear the worst part of it.  

  He doesn’t want reason, he wants pain, hatred, and anger. It is what is keeping him going.  

You will give it to him for now. 

“I killed them.”  Although you went against his plan to trick Sukuna, you never meant for your actions to cause such a catastrophe. That it would cause for his world to be ruined. 

  Before he can do anything, you leave quickly. 

He finally goes into the shower after a while. The water is boiling hot and the steam is thick. Satoru stands under it not moving to bathe at first. Nothing goes through his mind other than the sensation of the water and the scars on his body. He barely has any feeling on the long scar across his abdomen. It is nothing but a reminder of you.  

  You were supposed to save them. Not him. 

And yet, here he is. Holding the weight of everyone’s soul all because you didn’t want to follow directions. He killed Sukuna and is hailed as the strongest sorcerer in history. But the glory that he’d usually bask in is a terrible thing now. Why wear it like a badge of honor when it is covered in the blood of those he loved and never got to tell them? 

   You. You fucking snake.  

Now, he has to sit here and heal. According to Shoko anyway. Whether it’s mentally, emotionally, or physically, he doesn’t know or care. He wants to leave. To be free. If only for a moment, to get away from this place and breathe. Away from you.  

  When he met you, he thought you were plain. Nothing really special except for a weird but cool technique. Then when he lay on the bed after the fight, you were the first in his sight. The light acted as a halo. You were glowing and had an ethereal appearance.  

  Even Lucifer was the most beautiful and enchanting of angels. And look what happened.  

  Look where it got Gojo Satoru.  

To find out that he had healed mid fight because of you at the expense of so many people hurt him. You had one job, only one.  

  Why did you make him kill his loved ones?  He needs to get away. A fresh start or at least some air. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do.  

 Gojo stands tall among the sand. The smell of the water is refreshing. Waves against the rocks and the white sand, the sun against his skin and the birds flying overhead, is so serene.  

  “Gojo.” Everything comes to a halt at the sound of that grating voice. He doesn’t face you yet. No, you won’t ruin this for him too.  

“You have to come back, Satoru.” You’re finally face to face with him. “Go away.” He dismisses you quickly and quietly. He doesn’t want to ruin this for himself.  

   “We have to go back.”  

“Nanami would have loved this. They all would. Maybe even Megumi.” 

He can still hear his students, his friends, too. The past life he lived as he raised the Fushiguro’s echo in his mind. Megumi was always gloomy, always. Tsumiki was a ray of sunshine with a solemn look in her eyes. She was forced to grow up at an alarming speed in order to take care of the grumpy troll. And she was never thanked. He knows that was what Megumi was thinking.  

   That he never got to thank her for loving him. For standing for him at his lowest and never letting go. Yeah, Tsumiki was amazing. And Satoru Gojo, her adopted dad, didn't say thanks, either. She would have loved the sea. Maybe in another life, he can take his kids here.

  “I want to stay. I think this is how I get back to the airport.” He hears you sigh. “I know. But you left the airport for a reason, remember?” 

“I shouldn’t have.”  

“If you didn’t, they’d be gone, too. We can’t-” He scoffs and interrupts. “We? Since when are we ‘we’?”  

“You can’t heal if you can’t see what’s left.”  

“ Nothing’s left!” He screams with his face red. You reach for his hand. “We are here. Hold onto us.” 

  The bell rings again. He wonders how it keeps following him. He looks around curiously. He questions, “The bell tolls for me, doesn’t it?” 

   “No, it’s for everyone to know the time.” You answer in a patient voice. He hates that. You talk like a doctor. There's enough of those to go around, he doesn’t need any more.  

  “Stop talking. Don’t ruin it for me.”

“What?”

“The bell is for me. I’ll be right after them, you’ll see.”

  You hold out your hand and reluctantly, he takes it. You lead him out of the street with cars honking their horns. You hold him close out of his delusion. It is his price of using too much curse energy and the reverse technique. Gojo doesn’t know that he’s not in Malaysia as he imagined Nanami would have liked. He doesn’t know the truth of his students. He doesn't realize that the airport he wants to return to doesn't exist. 

  He blames you, yes, but you’ll stick with him. He'll heal one day.  

Right now, he doesn’t understand that the bell isn't for him and hasn’t been for these past four years since Sukuna. That he has suffered so much that his head is stuck. But one day, he’ll heal, and he won't be alone. Even if he doesn't, you will hold his hand, nonetheless. 

[dramatisperscnae]

@therebetterbepie [-drops a half-dead Dickiebird at your feet like a cat-]

He's tired. He's been pushing himself nonstop for days, ever since the cemetery. Since Jason. Since learning his baby brother hates him. He's always assumed that would be the case, of course - why the hell would Jason think otherwise? - but to have it confirmed…to know that Jason is alive and well, somehow, and wants nothing to do with him. Has disowned him. After everything else he's lost over these past few months, what else does Dick have left but his work?

He can't even go back to Bruce. Not now. Not after Blockbuster. After Bludhaven. And if Bruce knew about Jason? Knew and didn't tell him? What does that say about their relationship? More than enough. The weight of his failures is crushing him, each one parading through his head almost non-stop. Getting fired from the 'haven PD. Losing Babs. Killing Blockbuster. Catalina, god he wishes he could forget her; every time she crosses his mind it makes his skin crawl. Sophie, and Slade, and Chemo falling on Bludhaven, and now Jason, back from the dead…

The only thing that stops the parade is his work. It gives him something to focus on, something to do, even though a part of him knows this is stupid. Self-destructive. Dangerous. The rest of him doesn't care. Hell, it almost welcomes the pain. How many fights tonight alone? Six? Seven? He's lost count. Took a couple bullets here and there. A knife, once. And now he's finishing up on a herd of Talons that damn near came close to ripping him to shreds. But he's still standing, somehow.

Still standing.

Barely.

A part of him is disappointed by that.

Arm tucked over his stomach Dick stumbles his way out of the alley, fetching up against a wall once or twice and leaving a streak of blood behind each time. He should probably call for help. He has to keep moving. Get to the next fight. There's always a next fight. But maybe…

Is there a chill in the air?

Maybe this time there won't be. He runs into the wall again, slides down it. Tired. Getting darker. Light must be out here; happens sometimes in these alleys, no one bothers to check the bulbs on the regular. Footsteps approaching. Should reach for his sticks. Sit up. Too tired. Sticks already in hand. Doesn't matter. Can't move. And this is Gotham. Maybe the footsteps will just pass by. Just leave him here. It's dark, he's in black. Easy to miss. Right?

[monzterzack]

I’ve been thinking of ending things (2023)

Part 1

[majorsoapfan]

trick or treat!!

Hi! Have some Coral headcanons. These are the headcanons/backstory that I've created and use for Coral whenever I'm writing a TBOSAS fic in a canon similar setting.

Some of these are quite sad though, so you can decide if it's a trick or a treat.

Warning: one or two points do include mentions of alcoholism and implications of suicide. Nothing graphic, just so you're aware of it.

Coral's the youngest of five, all of whom were boys and she was definitely an unplanned pregnancy as her parents were quite old at the time of her birth (her dad was in his fifties, her mum mid forties). Her brothers were between 10-17 when she was born.

Because of the rather large age gap, that meant as Coral was growing up her brothers had already moved out/were moving out and some of them were creating families of their own so they never really formed a proper sibling bond with her. Her eldest brothers in particular feel the urge to baby and protect her, almost like they would their own children, whereas Coral resisted, particularly as she got older as she was used to being one of the eldest kids in the neighbourhood and therefore one of the responsible ones who the younger ones looked up too. She got on better with her niblings than she did her brothers as a result.

Her mum passed away after a long illness when she was 8 and at that point onwards it was just her and her dad at home, so they had a very close bond.

Her and Mizzen lived a few doors down from each other and their dads were close friends as they used to work on the same boat together. But Mizzen's parents were often out for long periods working (his dad)/unable to take care of him (his mum) as he was growing up so Coral stepped up and filled that hole the best she could. She helped him with school, taught him the skills for District 4, looked out for him and listened to his worries. They were very close and Mizzen loved and trusted Coral unconditionally and for Coral, Mizzen was her Prim, there was nothing that she wouldn't do for him.

Ever since she was twelve, she would let Mizzen sleep over at her place the night before the Reaping to comfort him as he was scared, first just for Coral, and then for himself too as he got to Reaping age.

Before she was born, her father struggled with an alcohol addiction to the point where he had been kicked out of the family home shortly before her mum discovered she was pregnant with Coral. He eventually got clean and sober and was allowed back into the family. However, after Coral was Reaped, he fell back into alcohol hard in order to cope.

Mags and Coral were really close friends and Mags would teach Coral how to make fish hooks while Coral gave her trident lessons in return.

A part of Mags was actually a little glad that Coral didn't make it home from the Games as much as losing her hurt, because she knew that Coral never would have been able to cope/go on living if Mizzen had died in the Arena.

She's actually related to Finnick as one of her brother's is Finnick's maternal grandfather and by the time the 75th Games happened, thanks partly due to Snow, and partly due to the rough life in 4 at times, Finnick was the last living relative of Coral's.

Mags always made sure that Finnick (and later Annie as Odesta's relationship developed) knew about Coral and Mizzen and before the Reaping for the 75th Games, she gave Finnick the few mementos that she had left of Coral as she knew that she probably wasn't going to make it out of the Arena (she was always planning on volunteering, even if it wasn't Annie's name called) and she wanted to make sure that Finnick had received them. Annie then inherited them when she returned to District 4 after the Rebellion and told her son those stories when he was growing up so he knew about his family.

[schrijverr]

I’d love to see a fic from the POV of Death on Trevor as it goes to collect his loved ones. Maybe starting with the first time Death sees him is before the church turns against them, but it’s a loved one coming back injured from a hunt and not making it as Trevor is one of the one that tries to help patch them up. And then Belmonts just keep dying and Death keeps coming back and spotting Trevor. Then the excommunication happens and Death collects everyone but Trevor and Trevor is just on his knees, crying, praying to a god that won’t listen, but Death is there, Death wants to tell him what is in his future, why he isn’t taking him yet, but he can’t.

Maybe it goes on into canon time, where Death keeps collecting people around Trevor as he just keeps living, unsure why this forsaken world hasn’t taken him too, until it comes to a head in that final stand off in season 4, where he is so close to Death and he suddenly doesn’t want to die anymore. How Death has grown a soft sport for him and lets him go, it’s not as if Death won’t see him later…

[leslutdepointedulac]

Meloncholy

MicroMay ~ Week 2: Meloncholy

He can’t seem to look at him the same now. Louis wants so desperately for the past to be nothing more than a bad dream, but no amount of playing pretend will change what happened. As hard as he might try to forget what happened, it will never change the fact that Armand is the reason he no longer has his daughter with him now. Sometimes he feels as though he can find it in himself to leave the past in the past, but then he looks at Armand and the yellow dress comes flooding back into his mind.

Armand is so patient with Louis and so impossibly gentle with him. He loathes it. He hates the way Armand treats him like he’s some fragile thing that will shatter at any moment. He hates how it seems as though he’s forgotten what he did. Armand broke his family apart and he acts like everything is okay.

He broke his heart.

Everything had been going so well between them. Armand would teach Louis about himself as a vampire and in return, Louis would teach Armand what it’s like to live in the new age. But all that is gone now. They move from place to place, country to country like a pair of ghosts forgotten to time.

Frequently, Armand will go to Louis to tell him about this or that opera they should go and see, or a new play in the theatre. Louis hates the theatre. Oftentimes he’ll reject Armand’s offer to go out, instead opting to stay shut away in whatever flat or hotel they reside in at the time. On very rare occasions, Louis will agree to one of these outings, but only because he can’t stand to look at Armand, as he stands there waiting expectantly for his reply. Either that or because the images in his head have become too much to handle, and he finds himself in dire need of a distraction.

In the times when he is left alone while Armand goes out for the night, Louis finds that his mind will wander. It takes to sending him back to when he still had his family and things were good. On these occasions, Louis misses them more than anything; what he wouldn’t give to have them back. There’s never any tears, it’s like he’s forgotten how to cry. He’s too numb for that. He wishes he would cry.

When Armand comes back home from his outings, he sometimes discovers Louis staring off into the distance but looking at nothing at the same time. He’s not even there. He sees it best to leave him alone when this happens, though that isn’t always the case. On the nights when Armand is particularly lonely, he risks being shot daggers by those venomous eyes, or being told in a small but harsh voice to leave him be. He’ll take that over being ignored any day.

He likes to communicate via the Mind Gift more often than not, but Louis finds it too close, too intimate to reciprocate. Either he’ll speak aloud or not at all, choosing to express his desires through look alone. Armand is smart, he can decipher these looks with great ease. The one thing Louis does appreciate about Armand, is that he will take his first answer as his final answer, and won’t press any further. If Louis says no, it means no and that wish is respected.

The last time Armand tried to talk to Louis, was to ask him if he’d been out hunting yet, though he already knew that answer. It worries him to no end that Louis will go several nights without feeding. He looks like a wraith when he’s neglected his hunts and this scares Armand. He does his best to convince Louis to go out, but his gentle persuasions are regularly ignored. One time Armand even offered to bring a victim back to their flat for him; he was met with a cold look and a worn out voice telling him he was perfectly alright.

Some nights, Armand fears tonight will be the night Louis slips into the long sleep.

Occasionally, Louis catches this from his thoughts and considers it. Maybe then he would find some peace. Once or twice he’s even longed for the sun, so he can be with Claudia again, and Lestat. He pushes those thoughts down though, it would feel too much like giving in to the suffering Armand has put him through. Louis has always had his pain but he’s also always had a strength against it; he’s not about to give in now.

These thoughts hit him the hardest when he wakes up in the evenings. The idea of having to face yet another night without his family feels too much to bear. Louis lies in his coffin and stares into the darkness while he listens to Armand moving around the flat. He remains there for several long minutes, hours on especially bad nights, just allowing his mind to take him back to when he was content. He doesn’t want to get up and be reminded of what he's lost, just by looking at the other occupant of the flat. Facing Armand means facing the truth, and that’s often too much to ask of him.

Louis wishes he had listened to Claudia when she told him who Armand really was, but he was too blinded by what he thought was love to hear her. Was it just another one of Armand’s dirty tricks? Did Armand deceive him into falling for him? Louis now doesn’t see what he previously felt for him as anything more than fascination. He was merely intrigued by him, so fixated on finding other vampires that he convinced himself he had fallen for the first one he met.

Armand was clearly just as lonely as he was, to the point where it caused him to destroy his life. Louis feels nothing but sorrow for him, and he pities him.

[You, Who I Pity A03]

@vcmicroficmay

[your-queer-dad]

hey dad, i know i’ve never really talked to you but i really need to vent. i’m sick of this. i’m always told my life is so great, but what do they know? this is tiring. i’m exhausted. i can’t express my feelings, because what importance do they have? none. i can never say anything without getting beat down, but im always told i need to open up more. they say im lazy, unproductive, thy i complain too much even though i NEVER SAY SHIT, they say i’ll never get anywhere. what life is this? lately the days have been getting shorter and shorter, i feel detached from reality. my mom never treats me equal to my brother and it's irritating, im always the one getting in trouble for doing things he's allowed to do. my friends never talk to me any more, i feel like they only hung out when school was still on and now they can finally ditch me. i never receive any form of validation, everything i do is criticized. i feel like i can never meet others or my own expectations, so i set them higher and higher just to feel horrible because i can't meet them no matter how hard i try. my physical pain and my feelings are always degraded and treated like nothing, i feel unheard. going around and acting like im happy all the time, hiding my feelings, covering up my pain, it's exhausting. i feel like the world would be better off without me in it. i don't want to live this life. the only relief i can experience is through pain, which causes me to SH. i'm always tired. i never have the energy to even get out of bed, but i have to or i'll get yelled at. i don't have anyone to talk to about my feelings. i wish i was happy. i wish people liked me. i wish people cared. i really want, for just one moment. to feel loved. i wish i could just fall asleep and never wake up again. i don’t want to live this life of suffering. i just want to end it all.

Hey kiddo, I'm so sorry that you're having to deal with all of those things. Honestly I understand how you feel and you don't deserve to be treated less than equal by others. I care about you, and I appreciate you being alive- this world is a much better place with you being in it. Things can't and won't ever get better if you don't stick around to see it kiddo. I am so proud of you for getting this far- and I'm begging you not to do it. I love you and things will get better if you stay long enough to see it.

- dad x

[aka-tua-braindump]

Just a thought about a fic idea.

The ghoul is travelling the wasteland and he chances upon someone who looks on the verge of taking their own life. He stops to watch, unnerving them, as he waits for them to do it so he can take their supplies. Somehow that irks the person enough to not do it.

I don't know where to go from there, but I thought it was interesting.

[hersterical]

How aware do you guys think Faith was of her own plan to provoke Angel into killing her in ‘Five by Five’? That was definitely her plan from at least the moment Wolfram and Hart hired her to kill Angel.

Within the context of the fight she had with Buffy in ‘Who Are You?’ I feel like even Faith would’ve taken some time to self-reflect just for a moment or two before going back to repressing.

I think that she was perfectly aware that that was the end goal of her plan the whole time but was very purposefully refusing to acknowledge it or put it into words even within her own mind. Her train of thought would go something like ‘I need to make Angel as angry as possible so that he doesn’t hold back when we fight’ and then stops her thoughts there because she knows what lies at the end of the path and if she continues to feign ignorance, then her death wouldn’t be her choice and not her fault.

It’s possible that her whole plan was totally subconscious, but that seems unlikely to me based on the end of ‘Who Are You?’ and some of her lines throughout ‘Five by Five’. It’s also possible that she was aware of her end goal from the beginning, but that just doesn’t sound like Faith to me.

I also love that it’s Angel who she chose to be the one to kill her. Besides the fact that he’s one of the few people in the world who would be capable of killing her when she goes all out (again taking the responsibility off of her), I love that she wants the guy who Buffy had tried to kill Faith over to be the one to do it. I love how she’s more upset about Buffy leaving the guy she stabbed Faith over and found a new boyfriend within a few months than the actual stabbing or anything else from their complicated history. Faith wants her death to be at the hands of someone else deemed unworthy by Buffy Summers. Someone else who is a monster but is still somehow better than her (why else would Buffy love him, even if it was just for a short time, when Buffy wouldn’t give Faith a second glance even before Faith screwed up?). Someone who is in many ways the same person as Faith and is still better than her even though he’s done worse things.

I wonder if Faith remembered a time when Angel tried to offer her compassion and understanding and if a part of her hoped that he would do the same thing again.

Faith already knew Buffy’s judgement of her, and that was before the whole kidnapping Buffy’s mom and stealing Buffy’s body and life thing. But Buffy is the ideal. How could perfect Buffy with the perfect life possibly understand? Angel though, Angel is just as much like Faith as he is like Buffy. He’s all honorable and good and he also knows what it’s like to be corrupted and to take a human life. Angel is her last chance. If he of all people thinks she deserves to die, then that’s what she deserves. Possibly even scarier than that is that if he thinks she deserves a second chance, then she might actually deserve a second chance.

Obviously these two aren’t the only people she seeks validation and guidance from, that’s one of her biggest things. Just look at her relationship with the Mayor. That’s why it’s so great in ‘Sanctuary’ when she makes the choice for herself to go to the police. I feel like every decision we’ve seen her make so far has either been something that someone else has told her to do, or because she’s felt like she’s had no other choice. She is definitely backed into a corner in ‘Sanctuary’ but she also has both Angel and Buffy fighting for her and the opportunity to skip town. The easiest way for her to avoid the responsibility of making a decision would just be to let whatever outcome of that fight to decide her future. The easiest way to avoid the consequences of her actions would be to run away. But Faith doesn’t do either of these things. She finally steps up and take on both the responsibility of choosing her own life path and the responsibility of owning up to her actions. Faith is the one who decides that she deserves to face punishment and the opportunity for redemption but that she doesn’t deserve to die. Faith made the decision that she deserved to live. “The hardest thing in this world is to live in it.”

[wixed]

Gale x M!Tav, Wyll x M!Tav, Love Triangles, Angst, Mutual Pining, Suicide Mention/Ideation

A/N: This one is long, I'm so sorry, ~3.7k words

7 - A heated argument with a companion 

Gale awoke to a deep hunger. The pain buffeted against and cramped buffeted and cramped his core. It felt like he had neglected his meals for a tenday. It soon was accompanied by the stabbing, icy hot pain that rallied against his heart where the orb had taken residence. If the affliction was already this bad, Gale was unsure he would be able to accompany his companions today. 

He meditated for a few minutes, hoping his unmatched mental focus and acuity was all it took to banish the pain. Unfortunately, this enemy required more than a simple ‘Iacto Te’ and a flick of the wrist. 

Gale abandoned the fruitless meditations, deciding to get dressed and leave his tent. Upon his exit, his eyes immediately found Tavlin, and his heart gave an elated beat before he truly took in the scene. He felt the weight of disappointment carry his heart down into whatever depths he had forced the poor organ to waste away in. 

Tavlin knelt by a pack with Wyll, the two men preparing the day's provisions and supplies. The tiefling’s smile seemed contagious, as Wyll was also sporting a large lovesick grin. The two were close, and Wyll made constant attempts and excuses to touch Tavlin. Hands brushing, a clap on the shoulder, then when they stood, Wyll offered his hand to help Tavlin up, and the offer was accepted. Gale found a new ache in his heart as their hands stayed clasped together after the sorcerer was already standing. 

Wyll made a small, charming bow into the gesture, still holding Tavlin’s hand, to which the tiefling blushed a shade of magenta that had only belonged to Gale, up until now. The blush was accompanied by a laugh that shattered the wizard’s tender heart. 

“Your pallor could rival Astarion’s today, Gale." Shadowheart’s voice tore Gale away from the painful moment he likely wasn’t supposed to see.

“Unfortunately, I am still ailed by the orb, it seems.” His tone came across unamused and biting, but he was only trying to hide the hurt in his voice. He hoped the Sharran wouldn’t press the issue, if she could detect it. 

“Perhaps it’s best you stay at camp today? The Shadowlands will require us at our best, and no offense, but saying you look like death warmed over would be a kindness.” Shadowheart needled between his pained thoughts. Despite her prefacing the remark with ‘no offense’, he was sure the cleric enjoyed giving the jab at his expense. 

“Yes… perhaps you’re right”, was all he could provide in response. The lack of banter seemed to dull Shadowheart’s edges somewhat. 

“I'll let Tavlin know. Take care of yourself, Gale.” That sentiment at least sounded genuine. 

Gale finally let free the heavy sigh he had been holding and turned back into his tent. 

—

Tavlin’s morning had started normal enough. He saw to his usual routine with ease, and he even found enough time to play an extra game of fetch with Scratch. 

He noticed Wyll was watching from his tent, a soft smile on his face. Tavlin couldn’t help but smile back with a weak blush. He felt a nip at his hand and saw Scratch at his side, anxiously awaiting the ball Tavlin was still holding. 

“Sorry boy, here ya go”, he said with a throw of the red ball. It was punctured with tooth marks in several places, almost covering the whole of it. 

“We really need to get you a new ball, Scratch”, he said to his dog companion with a chuckle. 

“I’m sure there are plenty we can find for our furry friend in Baldur’s Gate”, Wyll added as he walked up to Tavlin. 

“We just need this one to last that long”, the tiefling laughed as Scratch brought the ball back once more, tail wagging with excitement. 

Tavlin could feel his pulse quicken with Wyll’s presence. He still couldn’t make heads or tails of his feelings. His heart felt as if it was taking the term “storm sorcerer” a bit too literally, his affections a tempest he couldn’t navigate through. 

He knew he liked Gale. He really really liked Gale. He thought about taking the wizard in his arms and kissing him until they both were breathless, more times in a day than he prayed to the gods. He was also certain Gale returned his affections, at least to some degree. But Gale would keep distance between them, especially lately. Karlach and Shadowheart told him it was likely due to the orb, and the very real possibility of a catastrophic explosion if Gale got too…excited. 

They teased Tavlin about it, but he only felt a painful disappointment at finally understanding. Gale’s condition is what kept them apart, not his lack of feelings. But then why hadn’t he said anything to Tavlin? Why had he been trying to quietly pull away instead of just being honest? Tavlin could speculate all day and still find no answers. 

In the last tenday, Wyll had started talking with Tavlin more. Sitting by him at meals, talking with him before they turned in for the night…flirting. He liked Wyll, to be sure. Wyll was handsome, kind, and brave… a good man by all accounts. Tavlin should be swooning like the maidens in the fairy tales Wyll recounted to him. Perhaps all he needed to do was give in to the storm, see where it spat him out once it thrashed him around. So he decided to indulge the flirting today. He needed to stop thinking and just start doing. 

He grabbed Wyll’s hand gently, and placed the saliva covered ball in it. Surely the most romantic gesture one could bestow upon another. 

“Here, my poor arm is getting sore”, he lied with a small laugh. Wyll’s cheeks suddenly possessed shades of pink at the touch. He chuckled and threw the ball as instructed. 

“Well, we can’t have you tired out already.” Wyll’s gaze became soft as it focused on Tavlin’s face, and his eyes traveled down to the tiefling’s lips for the quickest of moments. Tavlin shyly averted his eyes with a small smile. 

For the remainder of the morning, the two men were inseparable. After Scratch was sufficiently satisfied with his morning game of fetch, they ate breakfast together and started preparing for the day’s adventures. 

Tavlin noticed how much more Wyll was leaning into the stolen physical touches. Innocent enough to the ignorant observer, but to the pair it might as well have been a romantic dance.

With the last of the provisions packed, Tavlin was ready to gather the group for the day. He was thinking through who would be a good fit for the treacherous Shadowlands they were to venture into today. Shadowheart seemed almost excited at the prospect of being at the front of exploration into the cursed lands. Karlach or Lae’zel would probably be good additions for their ability to hit hard and take hits, but perhaps Astarion might be better for his ability to pass quietly without much trouble. Gale was always-

Tavlin’s thought process halted with the approach of Shadowheart. He waved as she closed the distance. 

“Morning, Shadowheart.”

“Good morning. Gale will be staying behind today. He’s still not feeling well.” The cleric informed the two men. 

Wyll spoke up first. “It seems our friend’s condition is not getting any better…” He sounded despondent, like he wished he could offer a solution but was coming up short. 

“Thanks for letting me know Shadowheart, is he-”

“He’s in his tent, yes.” She answered before he could finish his question. Without another word, Tavlin set a path to Gale’s tent. 

He was reminded of last night, when he made this same path that led him to the front of the blue little encampment that was Gale’s. How Gale had collapsed on the ground, trying to function through the pain. Tavlin’s heart felt heavy. He wanted so desperately to help Gale. He wished there was a way to make the orb leave Gale alone, like it was a bully that just needed to be told to leave. He wished for a way to take away the complications of their feelings for each other. He wished he could do anything. 

He arrived at his destination. He could hear shuffling and the sound of book pages being turned. He cleared his throat. 

“Gale? Shadowheart said you weren’t feeling well? So um… I … I suppose I’ll see you once we’re back? Is there anythi-” 

“I’ll be fine. Thank you.” Gale’s response didn’t sound terribly irate, but Tavlin couldn’t shake the feeling that Gale was upset. He wasn’t sure what to say. He stood in silence outside the tent for a moment too long. 

“Is there anything else you need to address with me before you venture?” Gale called from within the flimsy cloth walls. 

“Uh..n-no, sorry. Um… I hope you feel better”, was all Tavlin could think to say. He sheepishly made his way back to Shadowheart and Wyll. He tried to focus on the plan for the day, as the others would want his input on who the exploration party would be. 

“Alright everyone, I think I’ve got the team figured for today”, he voiced to the camp. Everyone’s interest was piqued at the sudden call to attention.

“I think it might be best to take things slow and steady these first few excursions into the Shadowlands. I think focusing on stealth and avoiding trouble should be our priority, at least until we feel more accustomed to the lands and its inhabitants. So… I think today I’ll have Shadowheart, Astarion, and Wyll with me.” Tavlin wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt so nervous. 

Shadowheart seemed pleased with the choices and the reasoning. “A sound strategy.” 

Astarion grinned “It has been a while since I've gotten to kill something. Let’s go.” He had a tone like a child who had been told they got to have their pick of the candy shoppe. 

Wyll simply beamed at Tavlin while picking up one of the packs they had worked on this morning. 

“Alright, everyone grab a pack, and we’ll head out.”  Tavlin gave a sigh of anticipation, and something else. He wasn’t sure what the something else was, but it was hefty and burdened his heart in a way that he’d not felt before.

—

It had been only a few minutes after the four left before Karlach was complaining to Lae’zel.

“All I’m saying is that I think our fearless leader wasn’t giving you and I enough credit. I mean…I can be stealthy!” she whined as she kicked some dirt at her feet. 

“I will not question the tactics of our leader. He has shown great promise in getting us this far. You should do the same”, Lae’zel answered back to Karlach. The fiery tiefling huffed a protest, but quieted her displeasure. 

Gale occupied his time by reading through several of the books and transcripts they had acquired along the way. His mind could not focus on the words, however. He found his thoughts drifting back to the conversation, if one could call it that, he shared with Tavlin this morning. He hadn’t intended to be so short with him, but he found his emotions battling with his desire to be ever the gentleman. 

He couldn’t get the image of Tavlin’s soft, freckled face, flush with the heat of affection for someone other than him out of his mind. The image made his insides knot and twist. Gale had no right. No right to covet such things as he did. Tavlin wasn’t his, they hadn’t even confessed feelings, let alone had any claim on the other. 'That's not entirely true... he confessed to you, but you dodged the subject yet again.' Gale scolded himself as he remembered the tiefling party after they had defeated the Goblin Camp.

He sneered at his own negative thoughts on the matter, trying to force them back into the recesses of his mind so he could focus on the bound parchment in his lap. 

Suddenly he heard Karlach shout across the camp. “You’re back fast, Shadowlands scare you off already?” 

Halsin chimed in with a hint of curiosity after Karlach’s question. “And who is that you have with you?” 

Gale tried to listen to the responses as he put all his various books and scrawlings away, attempting to keep them organized for later. Tavlin’s voice cut against the silence that came with the expectation of answers. 

“Uh… Guys, this is Elminster…the Wizard of Shadowdale?” The tiefling sounded unsure of his answer, or at least in as much disbelief as should accompany the revelation. 

“Actually it’s the Sage of Shadowdale young lad, but no matter”, Elminster hastily corrected. 

Gale’s mind reeled as he quickly abandoned his careful organizing and immediately left the tent. Sure as Lathander commands the sun to rise and set, there stood Elminster. Gale could hardly believe his eyes. The Sage stood at the small table still decorated with the morning’s breakfast, surveying the spread of food with a scrutinizing eye. The old wizard’s attention turned to Gale as he slowly approached. 

“Ah, and yonder lies the object of my pursuit”, announced his old friend.

“Elminster?” 

—

The two wizards started a back and forth, most of which was dedicated to Elminster’s knack for long winded prattling. Tavlin forgot what they were talking about halfway through whatever the Sage was saying. He would have found it more amusing if Elminster’s message wasn’t sounding more and more like a doomsday omen. 

Tavlin eyed the stranger in their camp with an unease that had been building. He didn’t like the weight Elminster carried with him. For an archwizard that had been around as long as he supposedly had, Tavlin thought there shouldn’t be much that could shake the older wizard’s resolve. But still, there was something in his tone, the way his eyes filled with guilt whenever he would look at Gale, truly look at him, that Tavlin didn’t like. 

The elder mage revealed that Mystra knew of their tadpole and Absolute problem, and she seemed to have a solution to it. Or more accurately, Gale possessed the solution. Tavlin couldn’t help from speaking up at this.

“How does Gale alone have the solution?” Everyone else must have already figured it out, because Tavlin could hear the uncomfortable shuffling of his other companions behind him. 

“The orb.” Gale’s words rang like someone had pounded on a bell right near Tavlin’s ear. He felt disoriented, panicked, in utter disbelief at the actuality of the situation. 

“Precisely.” Elminster continued to explain, “Mystra has granted me the power to stop the clock as it were, on the orb’s rush to overpower you. Instead, you will be able to unleash its lethal combustion at will.” 

Tavlin felt dizzy. He could sense the edges of his vision getting fuzzy, and he felt like he was going to revisit breakfast. When Elminster gave more detail on what exactly Gale was to do, Tavlin snapped. 

“That’s monstrous! You’re tasking him to … to kill himself!” The sorcerer’s anger was accompanied by a flourish of wind that picked slightly at his feet. 

Gale looked at Tavlin with sorrowful, understanding eyes. “He is not. But it seems that Mystra is.”

The tiefling’s fists balled at his side, trying desperately to hold in the surge of magic he felt flowing through him. 

“It brings me no pleasure saying this, my friend, but such is Mystra’s will. Yours must be the sacrifice that will undo the Absolute. And for your sacrifice, you will be redeemed. Such is Mystra’s promise.” Gale seemed to perk up with hopeful disbelief at the word ‘redeemed’. 

“He’s already taking on the Absolute. He was doing it before Mystra ever turned her eye to it, before you set on the path to find him. He deserves to be more than just a sacrifice to Her will!” Tavlin couldn’t stop the sparks that crackled at his clenched fists. Elminster’s words were enraging him in a way he’d never felt before. Not at the Guild, not at the Flaming Fist or City Watch, nothing had ever touched this rage before. 

Elminster gave a long sigh. That made Tavlin even angrier. The Sage orders Gale to do the impossible, and then has the audacity to act as if it pains him. As if he has any sympathy for the situation. 

'How dare he…'

“With that, I’ve said my sorry piece, and need only bestow unto thee the charm I was bid.” Elminster avoided looking at Tavlin despite the outburst. 

Tavlin could hear Karlach behind him speak only loud enough for his ears. “Easy, soldier…”  He could tell she was referring to the growing energy in his hands. 

Wyll joined Karlach. “We should leave them to it, come on…” Wyll made the daring move to gently touch Tavlin’s shoulder.  The warlock was shocked by a jolt of electricity. It was harmless, but enough to make him pull his hand away rapidly. 

This pulled Tavlin out of his ever growing fury at the elder mage…at Mystra. 

He turned on his heel and walked away from the two wizards. His companions parted wordlessly as he strode between the lot of them. He couldn’t be around this any longer, or he was sure to Call Lightning down on Elminster. Tavlin figured in a fight between him and the Sage of Shadowdale, the former would be the loser. But he didn’t really care about winning right now. Not unless winning could somehow convince Mystra that what she was asking of Gale was wrong and cruel. Not unless somehow defeating Elminster would change the fate he brought to Gale on Mystra’s behalf. 

He stood at the edges of their camp, trying to focus on breathing. Focus on anything besides the growing storm inside of him. As he calmed the indignation, despair took hold of his heart. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. ‘He can’t…He can’t seriously be considering her demands…’ The thought accompanied a rogue tear that trailed down his cheek. 

“Tav?” Gale’s voice was apprehensive. Tavlin turned but kept his gaze focused on the ground, not able to bring himself to meet the wizard’s face. 

“An audience with Elminster is never less than memorable.” The smallest hint of a chuckle edged its way into Gale’s words. “I had hoped to introduce you to him in less dire circumstances, but those are difficult to come by these days.” Tavlin could tell he was trying to ease the mood. The tiefling looked over at where the elder mage had been, noting his absence. He must have finished whatever he needed with Gale. Tavlin felt a twinge of regret at not getting to take his anger out on the old wizard, but he knew it was for the best. 

Gale continued in Tavlin’s silence, catching that his attention was drawn to where Elminster had been just minutes before. “For Mystra to have sent him… The severity of her bidding could not be clearer, or weigh more heavily on me.” Gale spoke with a forlorn cadence now. “Time seems so infinite when you are young… a month is an age…a year is a lifetime… it is a strange feeling, to realize how little of it one might have left.” This ripped Tavlin out of his silent brooding. 

“You’re seriously considering what he said?” Tavlin could feel the tempest inside of him begin to stir again. 

“Of course, he offered the clearest solution to our problem. All I have to do is find the right place and time, close my eyes and let go…” The fact that Gale was saying this with such casual ease enraged Tavlin further. “Then the slate will be clean, wrongs will be righted, the Absolute will be gone… and I along with it.” 

“So that’s it, then? You’re on a suicide mission now? Why can’t Mystra just end the Absolute herself? Or Elminster, if he's so powerful? Why does it have to be you, and why like this?”  Tavlin couldn’t help the ire from coating his every word like a deadly frost.

Gale sighed at Tavlin’s questioning. “It’s not that simple, Tavlin. The gods are bound by rules, rules that Ao-”

“Screw the rules! Sorry, but that’s a load of bullshit and you know it. I know it, everyone here knows it!” The air around Tavlin thinned, and he could feel lightning calling to him from the darkened sky. He felt the roil of his impassioned bitterness course through his veins like an icy current, begging for a target. 

The sorcerer’s temper seemed to catch Gale off guard, stunning him into silence long enough for Tavlin to continue. “I thought you would have given this more thought before jumping on the first opportunity to please your ex-lover… sorry, Goddess. Which title matters more right now?” Tavlin instantly regretted the words as they left his mouth Gale’s eyes widened, then narrowed with his own rising irritation. 

“That was uncalled for.” Tavlin simply gave a huff at Gale’s words. “This problem is bigger than I think you deign to realize. If Mystra is asking this of me, I can only ascertain that the Absolute is a threat worth dying for.”

“And you just… believe her? Gale, the gods are not infallible. They lie and cheat all the time. They manipulate us to their own ends, then expect gratitude and praise. Mystra is no different. She used you and then just threw you out li-” 

“That’s enough!” Gale slashed the space between them with his hand, as if it were the somatic component to his command. “I do not need you reciting the highlights of my folly back to me. I trusted you with those details of my history because I thought you would understand…now you use them against me?” 

Shocked at the rise out of Gale and at his own choices, Tavlin stopped his tirade. He glared at Gale through tears that threatened to fall, and he silently brushed past him. He picked up the adventuring pack he’d set down earlier, and without turning, called out to his traveling party. 

“Come on, we’re wasting daylight in this gods-forsaken place.”

Oh boy. This was a doozy to write. Not just because of the length, but the argument was tough. They just need to talk about their feelings already.

More works featuring Tavlin below,

Part 1 - What was Tav doing when they were abducted? Part 2 - Voyeurism Part 3 - Body Worship NSFW 18+ Part 4 - Camp Chores Part 5 - First time seeing companions/love interest in a fight Part 6 - Teaching each other how to do something Part 7 - Heated argument with a companion (You are here) Part 8 - It will be ok as long as we're together Part 9 - Exhibitionism NSFW 18+

As always, comments and feedback welcome and greatly appreciated. 🧡

[bookwormcosplays]

SSRI WITHDRAWAL

Same symptoms as before read previous posts. I keep the tags the same.

Visual snow syndrome! That's what that static in my vision was called. It chilled out, but I am still having spotty vision. A bunch of black spots floating. It was so bad I was trying to kill a fly and couldn't tell what was the fly and what was my vision. Also this syndrome makes you sensitive to light. And yes this was caused by the withdrawal, I did not have these issues before.

I had a problem with obsessive thoughts. It's an issue where I think about something and it becomes all I can think. I can't do anything. I live and breathe those thoughts. Sometimes it's guilt, sometimes I get too excited about things to the point it overwhelms me, and nothing can distract me. I will give lexapro this, I did have less obsessive thoughts. But the obsessive thoughts kicked in high gear. It got to the point where I literally couldn't breathe because I just felt suffocated by those thoughts. It lasted about 24 hours (thank goodness), but I haven't had something as bad as that in awhile.

Then I started thinking about genuine happiness and I've just never felt it. (This is how my thoughts derailed.) I don't feel happy. I don't feel like there's any worth living. I do nothing. I am just a waste. This life is just it and it's over, what's the point? And I was under the assumption that physical symptoms should stop before the mental ones begin, but that is super false I found out! I can definitely see why people try to *kch* themselves when they get off their medication. I am fine just giving you an idea of how fast my mental health just slid from last week to this week from this withdrawal.

Other things are happening, but I'm afraid it's too tmi and I'm uncomfortable speaking about it.

I can't emphasize this enough. I wish I hadn't taken lexapro. It did what it needed to do for that short period of time, but the withdrawal symptoms are bad. And they will affect me for a long time. I unfortunately am getting a lot of the withdrawal symptoms. And from what I've read those symptoms last for an indefinite amount of time.

If you're going through ssri withdrawal and you look up a symptom to see if it's from the withdrawal, it one hundred percent is.

Edit: Also anger. I'm getting very irritated, really quickly. Except it's very dramatized, to describe it, it doesn't seem rational. I've gone into my "I hate all people. I hate everybody" mode. Which I have already felt since October to current day, but it's reminiscent of my high school/middle school days where I was alone and depressed. Back then I genuinely felt detached and literally anything could happen to anyone and I felt a lack of empathy or care. I had a "I don't care about anything/anyone" attitude. Which resembles being depressed, but also in that mind state I held a lot of anger towards everyone and everything. And it's starting again. Hopefully this is a random peak from the withdrawal and not a behavior I'm going back to.

[tovart]

tw: ideation

Sometimes depression feels like the most familiar feeling in my life. It feels like a hug that's too tight; You can't breathe. Until you realize it's actually choking you. Pulling you down into the depths and drowning you.

idk. Sorry. I just felt like I needed to vent some art or I'd implode.

I'm not strong enough to fight it's pull anymore, I'm really tired of life and I don't want to keep burdening everyone around me. I know what I need to do but I don't know how to do it.

[wolffnichols]

I'm currently having a mental breakdown and trying to calm myself from a panic attack everything is just extremely stressful while I try to keep up with the house to the maintenance can come and fix our toilet while I also take care of my mom who's recovering from major knee surgery and now we ran out of soap and can't find out hand sanitizer and we don't have the money atm to get some and I've been thinking I have OCD for a while I had a panic attack when my hand touched other things bc I can think of all the germs and I can't eat anything bc of it as well as my body is fucking killing me and it's hard to make anything atm bc I'd have to use the stove oh and also I'm missing a medicine of mine which I can't find and I'm just overwhelmed and I feel like I can't do this anymore

[ignoredbellyaches]

AND WHEN I ARRIVE AT MY DESTINATION... I AM GONNA KILL BILL.

Ford can't remember his name.

WARNING: Heavy focus on suicide ideation, actively considering it, and the writing of a last note. Other than that, it's just general angst. Not proofread, we die like men.

Ford stumbles over some stupid root in some stupid, cryptic forest- He hates this dimension, he HATES it. How did he even get here?! He knew dimension hopping was finicky when taking shortcuts through witches, and he shouldn't have even entertained the thought... But it was pretty cheap.

He checks his energy blaster, popping open the fuel only to see it was running on maybe two more blasts. He peers over the rock he's hidden behind, his eyes darting wildly around for any sign of the monster that was (currently?) chasing him. To say it was huge was an understatement. It was at least four times his size, it... Two blasts weren't going to hold him over, not for that monster and not long enough for him to find more of the fuel or an alternative source of it. Ford chewed on his lip, trying to think.

A growl is heard.

Ford tenses against the rock, closing his eyes as he tries to listen for any other movement... It sounds like the beast is going in a different direction from him, but too close for comfort. He was safe for now. Ford takes off his goggles, rubbing away the collected grime and sweat on his face. He couldn't keep doing this, not forever. He couldn't even keep track of time anymore- was time even a thing out here? What was he even trying to accomplish— getting back home where nothing but horrific memories waited for him? No one was waiting for him, not except that damned Cipher. He was such an idiot.

Ford looks back down at his nearly empty gun, sighing. "Trust no one!...but your gun," Ford thought with a grimace on his face. How would he get out of this situation? Did he even want to? Obviously not, or else he would be discretely scavenging around to find some way out. He just wanted to rest without feeling the weight of the galaxy on him. He could always...

Well, he didn't usually entertain the thought. Not wanting to give into what Cipher surely wanted, succumbing to the madness and offing himself, but... It was tempting, Ford had to admit. He knew it was against all of his morals, that it would be such an anticlimactic end to his story, but... Who would even be around to remember his story? Who even remembered him? With how much time has passed, maybe in earth years, everyone he knew had already died. Moved on, blissfully unaware of his situation or they just didn't care. Not like he ever took the time to-

It was the logical thing to do. Work smarter, not harder. Ford pulled out the small journal he kept in his coat pocket, hating the damn thing but he always had the urge to record things. He wondered if anyone out here could even read it? Whatever. He grabbed the quill he still had on him from Earth, the only thing beside his glasses that he still had, and pulled out an alien ink that stained a deep purple instead of a black.

"To whomever it may concern,"

No one would be concerned. This journal would probably be eaten by some crazed feral.

"My name is"

Ford exhaled, closing his eyes. Did he really want his name attached to his corpse? Unwashed, unkempt, ugly bastard in the middle of some kind of forest. What even was his name...? He was... Was...

Ford choked out a sob, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth, subsequently dropping his quill.

Oh God, what was his name?

Against his wishes, Ford strains out another breath, trying to recollect himself.

He was... His name was-

Damn it! Why couldn't he remember!? He knew this, surely he knew this... Just remember other things, what's your mother's name, your father's, your brothers?

Caryn, Filbrick, Stanley, Shermie... What was he forgetting!? Some kind of S name, he knew. He presses his thumbs against his temples, his thoughts clouded by the memories of others. His father wouldn't be impressed with a quitter. Shermie must've been well past college. Mom would probably be gossiping to her friends right now, talking about how she hasn't seen her golden boy in ages- Stanley would've...

What was Stanley doing?

Last Ford had seen him, Stanley was calling out to him before pushing Ford into his own personal hell. Surely, he just went off without a care, figuring it was one less Pines to worry about...

Pines! Stan.. Stanford, Stanford Pines.

Ford moves his trembling hand down to his quill, focusing through his silent tears back to the journal. He steadies himself, and even though it took him uncomfortably long, he mustered the strength.

"My name is Stanford Pines."

His jaw clenched at his own name. He could feel his veins filled with hatred. Not only towards himself but towards... Bill. That fucker took everything from him. He was to blame, not Ford. A snap breaks him out of his trance.

His quill bent at the top. Ford sighs, taking a deep breath. His eyes open back down to the journal, his hand still before writing furiously.

"And I am going to kill the entity known as Bill Cipher." He slams the journal close, putting back in his coat. He can die later, but he'd be damned if Bill wasn't going first.

...

requests/asks are open : )