Announcements: Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? » Twelve Days of Christmas »

Players Wanted: Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » We grown out here, bby » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! » Long term partner to play an older male wanted » DEAD! » Looking for new RP Buddy(s)! »

Suicidal Support



a part of Suicidal Support, by Beffiye.


Beffiye holds sovereignty over California, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

721 readers have been here.


Default Location for Suicidal Support
Create a Character Here »




California is a part of Suicidal Support.

1 Places in California:

3 Characters Here

Amber Edwards [4] "If I believe can you teach me to breathe, teach me to breathe once again?"
Katarina Lester [4] "Monster are real, ghost are too. They live inside us, and sometimes they win"
Autumn Branson [4] "If your heart tells you to then who are you to question it"

Start Character Here »


9 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wiley Maxtyn Character Portrait: Katarina Lester Character Portrait: Amber Edwards Character Portrait: Adam Walker Character Portrait: Autumn Branson Character Portrait: Augustus Kings Character Portrait: Declan Branson Character Portrait: Wren Donovan Character Portrait: Augustus H. Kings
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK


8 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wiley Maxtyn Character Portrait: Katarina Lester Character Portrait: Augustus L. Kings Character Portrait: Amber Edwards Character Portrait: Adam Walker Character Portrait: Autumn Branson Character Portrait: Declan Branson Character Portrait: Wren Donovan
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK


Waking up from the sound of her annoying alarm clock, Katarina got out of bed. Quickly changing and checking her large suitcase and backpack once more, she went out into the living room of her house. Her Dad was already waiting for her at the door.
"Ready to go sweetheart?" he asked, looking at the questionable amount of black Katarina was wearing. Katarina simply nodded before they started their voyage to Camp Suicide. Black headphones were stuck in her ear to block out the annoying country music her Dad listened to. Sliding her music volume all the way up her father frowned.
"With your music up that loud, it'll pop your ear drums" he said, his scolding in vain as she just couldn't hear him. Her Dad let out a sigh before continuing to drive the rest of the way.

Five hours passed until they pulled up in the drop off ring of Camp Suicide. Reluctantly she pulled out her headphone and avoided the awkward look her father gave her. She felt bad for her dad, truly. No father should have a suicidal depressed child. It only made her feel worse about herself that she was coming to a camp to get "help". He was spending all his hard earned money to get Katarina out of her state, but she couldn't help but feel like a burden.
"I love you Kitty Kat. Now go get better. Make some friends" her father said before she opened the door. She gave him a faint smile.
"I love you too Daddy" her quiet voice replied, making her father smile. She grabbed the large suitcase and backpack from the trunk of the car. With a small wave she walked into the main building. The weapon check was always a pain in the ass, but this year Katarina didn't bring anything they would catch. Her Dad had completely strip check her bags for anything. The only this she had were a few shaving blades, which could easily be dismantled to serve the purpose she wanted them for.
Katarina got through the metal detector with ease and made her way over to the activity board. Eyes scanning down it for her name, she finally spotted it.
Activity Group 4:
Female Cabin:
Amber Edwards, Autumn Branson, Katarina Lester, and Wiley Maxtyn.
Male Cabin:
Adam Walker, Augustus Kings, Declan Branson and Wren Donovan.

Some names seemed vaguely familiar, but Katarina was never good with names in the first place. Taking an activity sheet for her group and signing her name, she carried her things to her designated cabin. Her movements were slow as her feet were barely picking themselves up off the ground. After circling the few cabins twice, she found the one she assigned to. The brass knob on the door was the same, the rickety stairs, and the little bugs in the front window were all the same. Hesitantly she knocked on her room door to ensure no one would be surprised by her entering and opened the door. The first sight she saw was the bright red hair of her new cabin mate. The next was a girl sketching on her bed. A small wave was produced by Katarina, but nothing more. Katarina put her things on the bed marked as 25, and took a moment to look around the dull room.
With a sigh she grabbed her suitcase and brought it to her closet, beginning to unpack her belongings for the summer.



8 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wiley Maxtyn Character Portrait: Katarina Lester Character Portrait: Augustus L. Kings Character Portrait: Amber Edwards Character Portrait: Adam Walker Character Portrait: Autumn Branson Character Portrait: Declan Branson Character Portrait: Wren Donovan
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK


Wiley had spent the last week in “Rehab” or at least that’s what the media was being told. The reality of it was, she’d spent the last two weeks the hospital on Suicidal watch. She’d tried and failed again. She had the gun in her mouth ready to pull the trigger, she’d hesitated for only a second and her mom had walked in. That was when her psychologist gave her two chooses spending half the summer in the hospital and the other half in Rehab or going to a suicidal support group for the summer. In the end, her psychologist had made the decision for her.

At the current moment, she was stuck in the waiting room of her psychologists office, sketching the receptionist as a corpse. She sighed when she heard her mother start screaming, from inside her Doctor’s office. It was obvious her mother didn’t care much about her, she never had. All her mother saw was dollar signs when she looked at Wiley. Her mom didn’t want her to go off to some camp, Wiley had given up a part in a TV show due to her issues and her mother had pretty much told her she was worthless. The door to her Doctor’s office slammed shut and Wiley looked up from her sketch and from behind her black Ray Bands.

“I hope your happy.” Wiley’s mother spat. She looked ridiculous, with her over processed bleach blonde hair, perfectly Botoxed skin, and way too much make-up. There was no denying she was a Hollywood House wife. “You have fun at your cute little camp, but as soon as they realize your just an attention whore, you’re going straight back to work.” She hissed cruelly before leaving Wiley there alone.

A moment later her Doctor came out giving her an apologetic look. “Alright Miss Wiley, Let’s get you to camp.” He said with a warm smile and she grabbed her things.

The drive was silent and took a few hours. Although she wouldn’t admit it, Wiley was excited to be getting away from the glimmering lights of Hollywood. She’d never had a normal childhood and she desperately hoped that none of the other campers would know who she was, but she highly doubted that. She hoped if they did know her, they hated her, so she could keep to herself. Finally they pulled up to the drop off circle. She sighed running her fingers through her long hair.

“Doc, just take me home with you.” She breathed.

“I wish I could kiddo, but you need help.” He said giving her a soft smile. The two of them stepped out of his BMW as he helped her unload. “I talked to your counselor already.” He said handing her a piece of paper, stating the schedule and which cabin she was assigned to. “Play nice Emma. I just want you to get better, your too young to be this sad.” She said looking her over like he felt pity for her and it was hard not to, you could tell how unhappy she was with a single look in her eye and it took away from how truly beautiful she actually was.

“Yeah, I know.” She whispered, she hugged her doctor, before throwing her guitar case over her shoulder and picking up her suitcase, heading to sign in. Once she was finished signing in she headed to her cabin. She slipped inside ignoring the others that were inside as she set her guitar case one of the empty beds.

Wiley’s Outfit


0 Characters Present

No characters tagged in this post!

Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK


“Do you have everything you need?”

Wren let his head lull against the window, watching the landscape of bright green and dull brown slide passed as the car zoomed silently across the road. It was beautiful, out here. Nature. He kind of wondered if it was just a part of his personality that was the reason why he enjoyed the outdoors, or if it was the Native American in him.

His therapist had called that kind of thinking a need for a 'sense of belonging.'


He didn't answer her, kept watching out the window, moving one of his hands subconsciously to roll up the sleeve around his wrist so his thumb could trace gently across the still healing wound there. It wasn't going to be a pretty scar, either, too jagged and raised...he'd been crying to hard to see properly.

“Wren.” His mother wasn't shouting, but she was using what he had dubbed as her 'Mom Voice'. Just a little stricter, more on point. As a child it had meant he was about to get his hand slapped. As a teenager it meant she was about to drag him off to a mental institution.

Or, camp.

“Yeah, mom,” Wren finally whispered, more to himself really. “I've got everything.” It wasn't that he wasn't happy to be going back – he was. He liked it there. It was just that he hated the way she drove there...sitting stiffly in her seat, hands directly at ten and two o'clock, avoiding any and all eye contact because she could blame it on needing to pay attention to the road, not talking...

It was like that a lot, now. She either completely avoided him...or she cried. His thumb slid across his newest scar again and he frowned as he pressed his forehead against the hot glass. Going back with extra markings wasn't great singled a relapsed. It told the world that he wasn't okay.

The car slowed as it eased into a park in front of the main building, and Wren already felt the noose around his neck loosen. He could breathe. Nice, fresh air. He never did feel like he was drowning here. His mom got out of the car first, smoothing out her perfect dress and fixing her even more perfect hair as she walked around. He was out of his seat before she could open the door, though.

“Well...” she stopped in front of him, her hands fluttering for a moment as she tried to decide what to do with them, eyes pointedly over his right shoulder. Finally, she touched his face, looked at him as she swept his hair off of his forehead. “I'll see you soon?”

“Of course,” Wren answered, and then felt his face break into a grin. It wasn't actually fake, but it could have been. No one would know the difference. His mother nodded, patted his cheek, and he opened the trunk to grab his backpack and his duffel before walking up the steps of the building. He didn't even turn back to wave.
Wren waited for a moment on the front steps, tilted his head back and closed his eyes. The sun was bright and warm against his skin, everything smelled fresh and new and alive, and already he felt his spirits lift. Like he was home, in a twisted sort of way.

He remembered the First Day game from the year before, so once he was inside he dropped his bags to walk through the medal detector without a problem. Last year they had caught him with his pocket knife (a gift from his grandfather), and a chain wallet, but this year he left the former behind and no longer had the latter. He had a razorblade on him, though. He always his shoe, covered and tucked away was too small for the detector to pick up.

The place was crowded because, as always, he was late, but he managed to slide over to the notice boards, glancing across it until he found his name. Activity four. A few of the other names sounded familiar, but he doubted he knew anyone. From there things were pretty simple other than all the elbowing through people. He grabbed an activity schedule, signed in at reception, and figured out he was in Cabin 8.

Wren bounced his way outside, feeling lighter with every step he took, humming to himself. It was hot enough that he went to push up the sleeves of his hoodie, but in the end still couldn't quite bring himself to. Though he was sure everyone knew what he was hiding...he was wearing shorts and flipflops, there was no need for the hoodie. That was why, before, he had kept his cutting to easily hidden areas.

Putting the heat out of his mind, Wren jumped up the steps to cabin eight and pushed the door open, only coming up short when he realized there were two guys already there. One, who had probably just arrived a bit before him and was still standing, and one who looked like he'd just woken from a nap.

“Oh, shit,” the words spilled out of his mouth before he even had a chance of stopping them. “I'm sorry I should have knocked. I can do it again?” he was already moving though, backtracking over clumsy feet. Even if technically it was his living space too..he had learned last year that once the big g-a-y card comes out, knocking is necessary. But of course he couldn't start off right. Of course.


3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Katarina Lester Character Portrait: Amber Edwards Character Portrait: Autumn Branson
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK



Tick... tock... tick... tock...That's about all she had time to count, before Introductions snuck up on her. Two of the girls had already made their exits, and Autumn thought it time she did the same. She closed her eyes as she slowly got up, taking in the musty smell of the cabin. She slid on her converse and set out toward the main building. She hoped to see her brother, but found it unlikely.

She picked up her pace, feeling vulnerable out in the open. She opened the door to the main building, and slid inside quickly. The air conditioning comforted her, as she made her way to the media room where she knew introductions would be held. The rooms are rather large enough, holding enough people for that sort of event. She scanned through the open doors, and eventually noticed the sign posted on the door. She slowly peered through the doorway, and took her first step inside.

Everyone was sitting in a circle, which was poorly constructed in means of dimension. It looked more of an awkward oval, but none the less effective in the group therapy. She walked over, and took her seat away from the group. She faced the people, noticing how the girl that's bunk was below hers sat across from the two others.

Autumn hated being at the tip of the triangle she had formed, and found it hard to relax. She slowly moved over two seats, breaking the perfection of the triangle. It was comforting, but Autumn felt stupid for having need to change spots. She held her journal in hand, and opened it softly, averting it from the eyes of the group. On the back of the page with the bird, she began writing the events of the day. She scribbled it in her cursive that most thought looked like someone tried to draw a straight line with their recessive hand, waiting for the other's to arrive.