Tw: Suicidal Ideation - Tumblr Posts

Tamlin wasn’t fine. He hasn’t been fine for years. He wasn’t certain that he ever had been and didn’t believe that he could be again. Going under the mountain had been hell itself. The only thing that made it survivable for the weeks before Feyre appeared was praying for his own death. He’d waited and wondered — completely silenced, under Amarantha’s bonds. 

Then, there had been Feyre. Something in him broke when he saw her being manhandled by the Attor.

“I SET YOU FREE!” He wanted to scream. “All I wanted was for you to live.”

He remembered banging his head against the hard throne carved from the rocks to which he’d been chained. No, no, no. 

The room went fuzzy. Blood poured down his temples until Amarantha’s hand rose from her lap and forced him to be still. 

She could control his body, but she could not control his tears. Those were all his own. 

Tamlin focused on the distant lights of the village, losing track of where he was until his chest began to ache again. 

What had the physician called it? Stress cardiomyopathy. Broken heart syndrome. 

When Feyre backed down the aisle, he remembered a dull ache start in his diaphragm. It exploded as she ran away. He would have followed her, but all he could do was fall to his knees…in front of his people. His entire court saw his heart break in two. 

He did not remember much after that — only the distant call of Lucien’s voice, pretty lights, and more pain than he remembered in a hundred years. 

“Be honest,” Tamlin’s throat was raw as he briefly met Lucien’s eyes. They glowed in the dark like golden stars. “Neither of us are fine. No one is — not after what happened; but we joke and we laugh because otherwise we would start screaming.” 

He fiddled with the edge of his tunic, running his claw down the center of his opposite hand. He did not wound himself, but the idea…it was soothing. 

He knew Lucien would take the blow before letting him be hurt. Where did he go? 

“Anywhere, everywhere.” Tamlin pulled his knee up to his chest and rested his chin there. “My memory has gone dim and my heart aches, but my soul remembers. As much as I may try to make all of this to poetry, some days it turns out that the blood was never beautiful. It’s just very red.”

Red like the roses he’d planted with his mother.

Red like the petals which Feyre so feared. 

Red like the line on his palm as he lost focus and his claw broke the skin. 

“Anywhere away from here.” He said, leaning forwards, and lying on Lucien’s waiting shoulder with a low groan. “I can’t take one more sunrise without her, Lu. It’s killing me.” 

“you okay?” from Lucien

Tamlin finally turned his head the third time that Lucien spoke. He had a gift for zoning out and tonight was no different. He stood on the balcony, watching the sun drift into the darkening sky, and faced the general direction of Night Court. It had been six days, twelve hours, fifty-nine minutes, and twelve seconds. By morning, Feyre was supposed to be home. If she was not, there was little his people could do to stop him from winnowing to Rhysand’s gate and demanding her return.

“Huh?” His glazed, green eyes drifted towards the faithful Autumn Fae who’d long kept him company. “Sorry —”

Was he okay? Tamlin’s memory prompted him to answer, but he quickly found that he did not know what to say. Was he okay? No. It had been a long time since things were okay for Tamlin. Yet, Lucien knew that. His question held more beneath the surface.

How was he, really? How was his heart? Did he still wish it were solid stone?

“I’m…fine.” Tamlin whispered, avoiding eye contact, and swallowed his shame. “This is my fault, Lucien. Perhaps if I had not told her how I felt, she never would have come after me.”

He knit his fingers together and hoisted himself up to sit on the stone railing of the third floor balcony. That short a fall wouldn’t injure him, but the allure of danger was just enough that it helped quiet the ache in his chest. “Are you…okay?”

next to normal:

me: oh look :) it’s art :)

Yeah, that's it. I'm officially done with being alive.

No, this isn't a call for help, this is a declaration of war against the concept of me being alive.

Yeah, that's it. I'm officially done with being alive.

i’ve been bed rotting in a decidedly self destructive way lately

being and nothingness, jean-paul sartre // the metamorphosis, franz kafka // i am the architect of my own destruction, juansen dizon // albert camus // as consciousness is harnessed, susan sontag // ralph waldo emerson // allen ginsberg // tennesse williams // letters to felice, franz kafka // sylvia plath

Someone else probably already mentioned this, but this shot seems to confirm Ed throws himself into to the water. With a huge rock tied around his waist or foot, no less! Ed, what are you doing, babygirl?! Is that guy/ghost/hallucination talking him into offing himself or is this some kind of test, or what? What is happening here?

Someone else probably already mentioned this, but this shot seems to confirm Ed throws himself into to the water. With a huge rock tied around his waist or foot, no less! Ed, what are you doing, babygirl?! Is that guy/ghost/hallucination talking him into offing himself or is this some kind of test, or what? What is happening here?

TW: suicidal ideation.

—- + -—

“You shouldn’t need to worry,” you had assured them, holding back the cracks in your voice as a remorseful grin splayed across your lips unwillingly, “I… I’m not essential. Even if I did do it, I’m sure you’d be fine. You’d just realise you never needed me after all.”

I’m sorry to say, but the humour only left a bitter taste in your F/O’s mouth— never because of you, but something in their core boils at the thought. A thousand dreams and futures play in their mind, yet they never find a possibility in which they wouldn’t be devastated at what you had referenced. Living a full life with your time together cut so short? Because you had been fighting yourself for so long and they failed to notice?? Because they failed to help and show you how much they love you???

No, just the thought feels wrong.

They wouldn’t stand for it.

This flashes through their mind in a nanosecond. They won’t treat you like you’re made of glass, yet it’s obvious from the way your F/O wraps their arms around you and lets you rest with them as they gaze sadly at their beloved that you’re their most treasured jewel. They won’t be scared off by the breakdowns or vents or numb days; you’ve chosen them out of trillions of others and still loved them so beautifully. How would their thoughts ever linger on leaving you, especially when they have the chance to show how deep their devotion runs?

Your F/O wouldn’t think twice about holding you on the bad days and reminding you of your limits, wouldn’t hesitate to be your pillar of strength when the world tries to slip hatred under your door, would never despise you for seeking help when you need rest after your lifelong fight. You survived for so long, and your rest is long overdue. You never asked for these scars, but your F/O is determined to embrace and care for each and every one of them.

After all, you’re their hero.

I crawl in the dirt; fitting, as it is how you see me. Look at me crawl at your feet, beg for you to see my life has any worth beyond the parts you think are acceptable. I crawl further, burying myself in my own grave

Yes, it was my own doings

But look who drove me under, in the first place

October 29, 2019 -- final night of the Love Yourself: Speak Yourself Tour. (Eng Sub)

"I thought about what loving myself actually is. I didn't know, so I asked, "Do you want to find out together?" and that's how it started..... [now that this Love Yourself Era is over] So, if I ask myself, 'do you really love yourself?' Honestly, I don't know yet. But, I think that I can. The Love Yourself, Speak Yourself concept might end here, but the method and path to loving ourselves is not over. So moving forward, let us hold hands and continue to love ourselves, okay?... In the future, I hope there is one word, one lyric of ours that will help you in loving yourself." -- Kim Namjoon, 25 years old

When this man speaks about mental health and loving yourself, I listen. He has walked through it. When he says, "Because of you, I was able to live this far. Believe me.", he's not exaggerating.

And the fact that in his music he invites us into his journey of surviving himself -- "Do you want to find out together?" -- has no doubt saved lives.

Honestly. "Do you want to find out together?" The generosity of that statement will always astound me.

TW: suicidal ideation mentions below in the description of his past lyrics:

This concert was:

10 months after the MAMA 2018 awards, when they sobbed on the platform and revealed they had considered disbanding.

Almost 3 years after he published "Always" to soundcloud on New Years day, 2017 (TW: suicidal ideation) (translation by doolset)

I wished that I was dead I wish someone killed me In this loud silence,

I live to understand the world, but the world has never understood me, why No, exactly half is missing It's trying to harm me

I miss me, miss me baby I miss me, miss me baby, I wish me, I wish me baby Wish I could choose me.

3 years after the Wings album release on Oct 10, 2016, with the song "Reflection" (translation by doolset)

But you know, sometimes I really, really hate myself In fact, quite often, I really hate myself When I hate myself so much, I come to Ttukseom I just stand here with the familiar darkness People who are smiling, a beer that makes me smile, and the fear that gently approaches me and holds my hand It's okay - everyone is in twos and threes -- [it's nice, fear is my] friend The world is another name for despair.

It strikes me that the "Love Yourself" era followed Wings. And it makes me think the era is absolutely not BTS trying to come up with some 'positive heartwarming thing to appeal to the world' and is instead the result of their main lyricist (and, probably Suga, their main member-producer) needing to rescue himself in order to continue on. Their Map of the Soul era seems like a very natural continuation of their own psychological journey.

And almost 8 years since he released a pre-debut song on soundcloud titled "Suicide" on January 1, 2012 (wow, New Years is not a great time for him). He was 17.

I've walked this long way from home to find my real utopia But, now I got no place to go and now I feel agoraphobia Can't describe how lonely I am, I know this isn't a game ..... I'll wait for you, I'll stay for you If I think I'm made for you Just for you, what's made for you. Don't know your name yet, but just for you They always say, one day you'll be way better but I don't believe their chatter Honestly, I'm falling up the ladder, maybe this will be my last letter

Below the cut are all the individual HCs I had posted to his old blog, coming soon are the HCs I had in relation to letters and a specific verse

Quentyn and Cookies from an Anon

Quentyn is more than a little bit of a cookie lover. When he was younger he would steal cookies from the kitchens on a daily basis. This had grown tenfold when he was sent to Yronwood, often the Prince would just walk in the kitchen and take three cookies for each hand and shove just as many in his mouth before wandering out. They had become a sort of comfort food for him, as his mother or Tyene would often sneak cookies to him if he was unable to snatch any.

Quentyn Hogwarts House

Quentyn is a Ravenclaw, cos he values wisdom above all else. Just because you are smart and value wisdom don’t mean you can’t sometimes do stupid shit. Like trying to catch and tame a dragon.

Quentyn and Suicidal Ideation

After the Corsair attack on the way to Essos, Quentyn fell to the deepest despair he ever had fallen to. The deaths of Cletus, Ser Willam and Maester Kedry affect him deeply. In his mind he kept blaming himself, debating just slipping off the side of the ship and into the waves. Another thought he had was to use his dagger to slit his wrists in order to end it as atonement for their deaths. Quentyn blamed himself for their deaths until the moment of his own death. As he lay dying he thought the days of agony were perhaps a punishment from the gods for letting his friends die.

Quentyn and Arianne

Quentyn would follow Arianne everywhere as they grew up. Until the day he was sent away it was an almost perfect mirror of Oberyn and Elia. Had he not been sent to the Yronwoods their relationship probably would have stayed such a mirror of their aunt and uncle. Quentyn gets very offended any times someone suggests taking away his sister’s right as heir. If conversation of putting him in charge of Dorne is brought up to him in any manner, he will cut off communication with the offending party. This communication cut can last for years.

Favorite Quentyn Headcanons as asked by an anon

Quentyn was a big mama’s boy before he went to Yronwood. Even to this day he writes letters to her, even if he does not send them. This is done for comfort. Quentyn will support his sister as his Princess until his dying breath. If anyone even suggests that he try to take her birthright he cuts off contact from them, for they are dead to him. Quentyn cried the day he heard of Trystane’s birth and no one could comfort him. This is because he was convinced that his parents had replaced him and did not love him anymore. Quentyn blames his uncle for his being taken from his family and finds it hard to forgive him for the death of the Yronwood lord that resulted in his being taken as a glorified hostage. Quentyn’s favorite cousin is Tyene, and it is because of her and her visits that most poisons cannot touch him. She built his immune system to poison slowly over time just to see if it was possible. Quentyn suffers from severe depression and anxiety. This mostly stems from the separation he had from his family when he was five years old. Quentyn reads more than the other boys he grew up around. He’s even borrowed and read the book on dragons that his sister refers to as a dreary tome. Quentyn use to dream of dragons coming to Yronwood and flying him back home to Sunspear. Quentyn is not touched by sweetsleep not because of Tyene, but because of how many times he had to be sedated by the Maester in Yronwood. This was because he suffered severe insomnia from the time he was brought to them at age five until he was nearly ten years old. Quentyn is good at parkour, this is mostly because of the times he had to run when playing with the other boys. Because he was smaller he could not outrun the likes of Cletus, Gerris and Arch. As a result he learned to vault over things and slide under others. Quentyn likes to sing and write songs and to write poetry. This is something he usually keeps to himself.

CW// non detailed discussion of suicidal ideation and addiction *in the context of recovery*

Clancy is my "met me exactly where I was" album. This is all my personal interpretation ofc, and i excluded lore, but regardless, I still find it. so. deeply relatable.

I'm at a place in my life where I'm far enough away from my Rock Bottom to know I do not have --or maybe do not give myself--the option to go back. And I know (personally and from the people ive met while in treatment) being met with the path your past self carved for you now while in the pits of misery is disheartening, to say the least.

When you're in that kind of dark place, I think a lot of people just settle there. There's a cognitive dissonance that sets in. You KNOW you're doing nothing for (if not actively sabotaging) your future but when you're finally out of it. It's. Scary.

The way I've always described it is "When I'm not at rock bottom I can see how far the fall is"

A lot of people joke about "I wasn't supposed to live this long," but there really is a lot of terror and frustration that implies. Life in recovery from mental illness and/or substance abuse sometimes it feels like you're detective, victim, and suspect all at once. Trying to frantically piece together a life you didn't even WANT to be living. But you have to keep going, you don't know why but you just have to.

Tw: heavy vent

The thought keeps coming back up again and again but I really do wonder if it would be better if I died.

I don't think I like being alive, but I guess it is what it is.

Tw: heavy vent

It is once again very had again. I'm afraid of reaching 21, I shouldn't have been alive this long. I don't know what to do with myself.

TW heavy vent warning

I wish every morning wasn't filled the the idea that I don't deserve to live and I should be dead.

We are not doing so well rn.

tw heavy vent, triggers in tags

I kinda wish god would kill me right now. I don't like living. I dont want to be alive anymore.

lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)

if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.

--

no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.

I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.

I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.

If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.

c!Tommy meeting his younger self, who is absolutely ecstatic to get to know what kind of person he grew up to be, and c!Tommy just puts a hand on his shoulder and says "When you build that tower, don't jump towards the water this time."

c!Tommy meeting his younger self, who is absolutely ecstatic to get to know what kind of person he grew up to be, and c!Tommy just puts a hand on his shoulder and says "When you build that tower, don't jump towards the water this time."

“Nico wasn’t exactly a sunshine person, but for once he welcomed the warmth. It made him feel more substantial - anchored to the mortal world […] For the first time in his life, he had begun to fear the dark, because he might melt into it permanently.” (Blood of Olympus)

a short, messy solangelo comic about this quote. a little hand holding won’t heal nico completely, but i think it will help

also, will glows like jesus