#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

#daisy ridley #dridleyedit #film #filmedit #filmgifs #ladiesofcinema #swcast #swcastedit #femaledaily #dailywomen #independent film #indie film #sometimes i think about dying #sitad #fran #dir: rachel lambert #inverse #my edit #dre edits #tw: suicide ideation

[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. 

#gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk #jjk fanfic #angst #q #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #spoilers #tw: suicide ideation #i think?

[monzterzack]

I’ve been thinking of ending things (2023)

Part 1

#oc #dooble #micke #comic #webcomic #tw: suicide ideation #tw: suicide mention #ok to reblog

[4threset]

#tw: body horror #body horrow cw #body horror #suicide ideation #tw: suicide ideation #comic

[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.”

#this post got away from me #should I put trigger warnings? #I’ll put one just in case #tw: suicide ideation #tw: thoughts of suicide #faith lehane #btvs #ats #let me know if there’s any trigger warnings I missed #she’s MY pathetic wet cat #buffy the vampire slayer

[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. 🧡

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3ficfeb #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale #gale x tav #gale x male tav #wyll ravengard #wyll #wyll x tav #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #angst #tw: suicide mention #tw: suicide ideation

[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.

#slife #vent #vent art #tw: suicide ideation #tw #less people follow me on this account

[bibuckbuckley]

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

#kj vents #tw: panic attack #tw: suicide ideation

[illuminatedquill]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Ahsoka (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ezra Bridger/Sabine Wren, Ezra Bridger & Sabine Wren, Murley - Relationship Characters: Sabine Wren, Ezra Bridger, Sabine Wren's Loth-Cat Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, Warning: Suicide Ideation Summary:

During a dark and stormy night on Lothal, Sabine finally tells Ezra the story of how she met her beloved loth-cat, Murley.

#sabezra #sabine wren #ezra bridger #murley #loth-cat #ezrabine #sabezra fanfiction #tw: suicide ideation #ahsoka #ahsoka show

[denimshortsdean]

they'll toast to us when I get there: here's to the man who couldn't live and just had to let die

#dean winchester #destiel #spn #supernatural poetry #rach writes #poetry #12x23 #s12 #sjonnie1k #tw: suicide ideation #happy 1k sjonnie have some depression poetry!!!!!!! #sjonnie.msg #writing

[meradormire]

The Bachelor tries to reveal a truth to the Changeling -- and gets turned upside down instead.

#patho spoilers and all that jazz #TW: suicide ideation #pathologic #daniil dankovsky #clara the changeling #clara saburova #nevermind that thumbnail its just my naruto cosplay wolf shirt clara

[zilabee]

In the summer of 1976 he  completely shaved his head and his eyebrows, and also shaved  off the beard and moustache he’d worn for years. What was this?  A cry for attention? Just something to do? The first signs of a  nervous breakdown? No one knew for sure. [...]

In a revealing interview in People magazine, he later admitted  to more disturbing reasons for the head-shaving  incident - attributing his bizarre behaviour to “feeling vaguely  insane and drinking some new drink. . . . It was a time when you  either cut your wrists or your hair, and I’m a coward.” 

Ringo With a Little Help, by Michael Seth Starr

#ringo #ringo starr #with a little help #michael seth starr #(I don't really know how to tag this) #tw: suicide ideation #there's an interview where harry nilsson #sort of laughs about this #like it was a wild crazy thing ringo did #in an effort to stop people recognising him #and then says something about how he started setting fire to cars #and the cops recognised him at once #so it hadn't worked #it's just all really really sad #when you look too much at the seventies #and I'm so happy he came through it

[starrook]

[ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 ] ; after the battle in destinea cathedral

morion hasn't a consciousness left to mourn the faces his boys held for him, nor can he understand why his sword falls from a hand that no longer existed. something inside him, mayhaps brodia-born instinct, tells him that he has lost a battle.

despite knowing that, it doesn't bring him any shame. there isn't a reason he can put this to, but again it's probably the instinct. that and dark puppetry are the only things running this corpse anyways.

the arrow that's struck morion clean between the eyes puts an end to him, finally. there's a lightness that lifts him despite his fall to the ground, moaning his beloved country's mantra as his death rattle. he dissolves, unceremoniously, into ash. for how loud and grand he was in life, this death is almost a joke.

strangely, even the armor attached to him dissipates, metal fragmenting and dusting as if it had rusted. the reason is elusive, but that doesn't matter---now the curse's undoing truly eats at morion's body, leaving nothing behind. it's a bitter, absolute end indeed.

morion's cape comes undone at the clasps that rot and melt. in the wind of battle and the twist of rogue magic does it fly, leaving a trail of dust in its wake, before landing in pieces on alcryst's shoulders. was this intentional? was this morion's way of telling his sons, posthumously, that he was alright? or was this just a coincidence begging to have blame pegged to it?

a shame the owner would never be able to answer.

tw: suicide ideation

It's done. Father's body collapses in an avalanche of armor and clashing metal-against-metal, drowning out the sound of Alcryst's bow as it clatters to the floor. The prince wraps his arms tightly around his body and coughs violently. Blood dribbles from his lips, flows freely from his shoulder down his chest.

King Morion's tomahawk could split a man in two. Alcryst can't let go of the idea that he'll fall into pieces if he lets go of himself. He clutches tighter.

Strong of body. Strong of heart.

Alcryst always knew he has to be strong on the day Father dies. The beginnings of smoke and dust rising from the body, as all Corrupted do, seriously tests his resolve. Widows have thrown themselves into funeral pyres, burning to death alongside the partners they've lost. He's heard of people who have lost their entire families choosing to starve themselves to death rather than live without them.

Grief drives people mad. Alcryst brushes against this madness when he thinks of how glad he is to feel this way, knowing he's spared his brother the brunt of this despair. Diamant has so much to live for even now. On the other hand, Alcryst has never felt more ready to die.

A heavy weight settles on his shoulders, warm and familiar. Father's cloak? Alcryst hesitantly releases one of his hands to touch the fabric, only to burst into tears as soon as he does. "Father..." It's easy to imagine this as a sign. He's going to die, isn't he? This is Father's hand on his shoulder, gently telling Alcryst to stand and join him in his journey to the stars. It's time for me to go. And for you to go as well. Even with Emblem Micaiah's healing magic reaching him, Alcryst feels his strength only fade with every second he stays here...

The weight on his shoulders grows lighter, lighter. The part of the cloak in Alcryst's hand begins to fade as well. His heart races, not wanting to let him go. Yet, he knows that his Father will always be more than just scraps of cloth left behind by his corpse.

Alcryst tries to be brave as the fabric crumbles to dust in his hands. "Rest well, Father. I'll see you soon..."

#answered #quartzhearted #the answer: it was a secret third thing that turns out to be worse! #tw: suicide ideation

[summermimosas]

"I'll like to stop existing sometimes." Chuuya found himself blurting out randomly, thumb flicking to a post with some vague lament over studies and parental experience on social media he doesn't understand. He skimmed through it, pitied the kid and scrolled past to the next one. It's odd how a stranger's life problems feels worlds apart despite being the same seventeen.

Dazai raised a brow beside him, mumbling like "Really?" — mouth too busy gripping at a roll of bandages to speak properly as he wrangled with wrapping his right wrist from supposedly swinging a bat at a ferocious dog. There's a manical twinkle in his eyes for a moment as he kicked open a cupboard with his foot, scrambling for something. Chuuya groaned.

"No way, I'm not reading that stupid suicide book of yours, you stupid Mackerel." Something about his tone came out rawer than Chuuya anticipated for Dazai to stop rummaging and turn to him with his full attention. The shorter mafioso nearly recoiled at the considerate gesture from his partner, shivering at the disgusting concern with what Chuuya's sure Kouyou affectionately calls 'an expression of teenage shame'.

He knew he's obligated to give a response eventually lest Dazai took it upon himself to start sprouting off in an attempt at something useless like a kind distraction so Chuuya rolls his eyes in the direction of that watchful gaze. Shuts his phone off to collapse on the sofa. "I don't care that much about dying calmly. I just-"

Want to claw away that hollowed-out feeling in his chest.

Burn away into white nothingness and vanish from himself.

Melt down.

He's simply incapable of doing any of that. Chuuya sank deeper into the dark leather cushions without a conclusion, silently ignoring the world around him. Words are wasted trying to pry at what's going on, there's better places to expend time and effort in.

Yet somehow Dazai doesn't leave. If the idiot gets a backache sitting on the cold marble by his side, Chuuya decided it wasn't going to be his problem.

#writing: himi #suicide ideation #tw: suicide ideation #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd skk #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai

[wikipedie]

. Please heed the warnings. Protect your mental health. Shortly, I am fine and will not do anything, this is just a general rambling.

Do not worry. I will not do anything. I just want to ramble about how I find funny that when I am better because of long term medication, and I think and wonder "why do I even need medication anymore"

and then I am terribly exhausted because of poor sleep choices and not taking my meds consistently for a while; and I am overthinking and overthinking and irritated and make some mistakes and I sit in the subway with the eyes closed and I think I should kill myself and it makes sense for like two seconds and I can almost envision it

and then I remember. Ah. That's why we're taking meds.

It's strange that I can vaguely remember a time when these sort of thoughts were common occurrence. Daily even. And I'd just fight with them. And I am so exhausted and on edge, I feel like crying but I do not have enough in me to cry. But it's just wild that...I don't think I will ever not struggle with this. And it's wild that there are people out there who do not struggle with it. Theoretically, at least. Theoretically there are people who do not consider the idea of killing themselves, no matter what they do. And I think, for me, it's just been a thing for so long, I don't think I can ever pretend it's not. I think it will ever completely not seem like an option to me. Because I take meds. And I take meds precisely so this doesn't become an option for me. And the moment I am inconsistent with meds, it becomes an option again. No matter how much I might deserve to live.

I think I should've noticed the warnings of suicidal ideation creeping back in earlier, considering I've been thinking about how it would be for people around me if I died more often (I consider sometimes how it would be for the people who love me if I died, and for new people who get to know me and it's not too bad. But when it repeats itself often enough, it doesn't take long to imagine by suicide.) And I've also been mentioning more how I would've killed myself in college if there wasn't X thing. I don't really know if it's true. But it puts suicide more in front of my mind. Something that I've been struggling with. And something, that I realise, that I'm still struggling with. Even if my life is good now.

And that's important to mention, for myself at least. I've been telling myself 'of course I wanted to kill myself if I didn't like the life I was living!' but now I do and it's still...there. in the back of my mind. Something that makes sense, at least a little. So it's just...a reminder I guess. This thing doesn't necessarily go away when your life gets better. *Sigh* or maybe I'm saying this because I'm on my period, but you know what, I'll still take it seriously. Suicide ideation during periods is no less serious than in other times.

Anyways, if you got this far, thank you for being here. Do not worry, I will take care of myself. These are just some musings for myself and yourself, if you get any value out of them.

#tw: suicide ideation #tw: medication #personal #tw: suicide mention

[thornfield13713]

...okay, no joke, this is- probably my favourite scene so far. The drama of refusing your birthright, knowing you'll die but choosing death over life as Bhaal's puppet, reasserting your companions as your family, your clan - you really shouldn't have given her those dragonborn culture cheat sheets when creating her, Bhaal - and just the cinematics of it...

Sorry, I'm gushing, just- EEEEEEE!

But also this moment- it does sort of confirm to me that Rosie was...maybe always a bit passively suicidal. That the promise of being the last thing to die, and Bhaal's ability to constantly resurrect her (which is a thing I've seen talked about in others' runs) might've been a big part of how she was broken down from an aspiring paladin to being willing to end the whole world if it just meant she could die too.

(Which also makes it a lot more heartbreaking that she got tadpoled, in part, because she had started to want to rule alongside Gortash before destroying anything - that she had started, on some level, to want to live again.)

I just. I am very much not okay about this.

#rosie fatrabbit #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #tw: suicide ideation