#also tw s/h and s**cide mention

[tunasama13]

Me for the last 5 months

(Also most of this stuff is my interpretation, if you don’t agree with it that’s totally fine!)

[glitch-karma]

Hi there! If requests are still opened, i'd love to make one :o (although it's a bit lengthy, so if you don't want to do it I understand!!)

TW for s**cide mentions from here forward btw! (common with any dazai fic, lolz)

I'd love to request a dazai x reader (fem or gn will work!) where he asks reader to commit double suicide with him, and to literally everyone's shock, they agree! So the agency (mainly kunikida and atsushi) have to repeatedly sabatoge their attempts, and during that time, the two start to get to know eachother better and grow closer whilst they aren't plotting their own demises. Eventually dazai starts to fall for them, but one day reader tries to attempt on their own life solo due to being unable to handle the pains and pressures of life anymore. Ofc they were rescued just in time, but it made him realize that he wants to see reader safe and happy, and that he had finally found his reason to live through his love for them. Extra points if he confesses his love at some point and reader accepts!!

Sorry if this was rant-y, i'm a huge sucker for angst to comfort :P either way tho, i hope you have a lovely rest of your day/night!

THIS RIGHT HERE IS A BEAUTIFUL STORY OH MY!!!!

-F!Y/n

-Y/n is a new worker at the Cafe under the ADA

-MAJOR SUICIDE WARNING!! (Including but not limited to: Blood, pills, self-harm, etc..) I am a sucker for graphic detail so you have been warned

-Also warning for puke

-Reader is kinda based off of Mafuyu from Project Sekai cause I said so (Btw pjsk simps gonna open up reqs for them when they become open again‼️)

-also reader has dull eyes cause anime logic

I did probably a concerning amount of research on suicide, (Plus looked for so long for Dazai's stupid lil book) for this so I hope you enjoy!

_____

Break time at the Armed detective agency usually means having some coffee at their favorite cafe. As the group sat down Dazai was glancing around when his eyes caught the sight of the new waitress waiting next to a barista Dazai frequently flirted with. The girl had semi-messy h/c colored hair, her eyes a dull e/c. Her features framed her face so beautifully. Dazai's mouth curled into a smirk as he stared at her. Kunikida caught wind and immediately irked. "Dazai.."

As the waitress approached the table, Dazai read the name stage reading "Y/n". He smiled as she stopped at their table. Before she could get a word out Dazai grabbed her hand in his. "Such soft hands.. And beautiful eyes as well. Would you, Belladona, do me the honors of accompanying me to a double suicide?"

WHACK

Dazai was now lying on the floor, as Kunikida brushed himself off. "I'm so sorry Ma'am, he's always like this-" Atsushi apologized as Y/n leaned down to the man on the floor. "I'd gladly join a double suicide." She smiled down at him.

. . .

"WHAT!?!"

"Really!?!" Dazai yelled as he stood up, grabbing Y/n's hand again. Y/n chuckled as she nodded at him. "I get off at 6. You work in this building correct? I'll meet you on the roof." "Yes yes, that sounds wonderful~!"

Everyone at the table stared shell-shocked as Y/n takes their order normally like nothing just happened. As dazai kicked his legs in his own little world, Kunikida Atsushi and Junichiro all stared at each other in concern. Kunikida pulled them behind a menu quickly.

"As much as I'd love to let that dimwitt meet his end, we need him and that girl to stay alive. It isn't right letting a young lady with so much life in her die with that blasted Dazai." Kunikida sighed. Atsushi and Junichiro nodded in sync.

"Once Dazai leaves to meet her we should follow them," Atsushi whispered. Junichiro hummed in agreement. "It's decided then." Junichiro finished. The three quickly separated from the menu as Y/n walked over and set down their drinks. As she walked away dazai starstruck-ingly called out; "See you tonight Madameeee~". Y/n peeked over her shoulder, smiling at him. Dazai felt his heart flutter a bit at those beautifully dull eyes.. They seemed to draw him in for more.

...

As Dazai whipped open the doors to the building roof, he caught sight of the lady ready to accompany him with his final dance. Her hair was gently blowing in the warm Yokohama breeze as she stared off into the sky. What was she looking at? Dazai didn't know. But her eyes looked so sickeningly dull in that moment. But still, so beautiful..

"I'm pleasantly surprised to see you here! I was concerned you agreed simply to make me leave you alone." The dark-eyed man said, leaning next to her. "I'd never joke about suicide. Such a beautiful ending to a sick existence." Y/n spoke lowly. In the cafe, she had a sort of customer voice, but there was no trace of it here. Dazai smirked a bit at this.

"I should let you know now, I'm not interested in pain. I don't know exactly what you're into though.." Dazai teased her. "Pain is not something I'm looking for either. Just a quick ending."

Dazai chuckled, quickly whipping out his little red book. "Suffocation, Hanging, Poisoning, Shooting, Jumping," He read off as Y/n stared at him. Only blinking in response. "All the ideas you could storm up are right here in this very book."

"Ah! What a glorious book,, if I wasn't planning on dying I'd buy a copy.." Y/n smiled lightly. "But.." she continued, grabbing the book and shutting it quickly. "I'd like to try jumping first."

With a quick grab of Dazai's shirt, the two were suddenly falling off the roof of the building. Y/n shut her eyes, waiting for the end of it all.

Poof.

The two landed on a bunch of garbage bags stacked up on each other. Y/n quickly sat up in disappointment as Dazai lay on the ground is fear and confusion. "Dang."

Dazai suddenly bursted into laughter. Y/n hummed, turning to him. "What's so funny?" Dazai wiped a tear from his eye as he sat up too. "You're the most forward suicidal girl I've ever met, my dear Y/n." He chuckled. Y/n blushed lightly before standing up.

"No matter.. We'll try again. Tomorrow. You can choose the method." She smiled at him. Dazai chuckled as he stood, lending her a hand up as he did so. "It's a date." He joked.

. .

"GAHHHH I THOUGHT WE WEREN'T GONNA MAKE IT." "Oh be quiet Atsushi, my Ideals were almost perfect."

There were the secret team, two sweaty messes, and one writing vigorously in his notebook. The three had watched Dazai enter the roof before running down to prepare in case they jumped, finishing just before they did.

"This might be a long couple of days.." Junichiro said quietly.

...

Day 2

"Oiiiii! Y/n dear!" Dazai yelled as he entered the roof. "Ah, hello Dazai." the girl lightly smiled. "What will we be doing today?"

Time after time,

Day 3

"Oh, Y/n you're here late! Well? Shall we begin?"

Attempt after attempt,

Week 3

"Dazai! Hurry we'll miss the train!" "Yes yes, my dear!"

The two met almost every day.

Month 2

The two had been testing the faith of this world as they attempted suicide again and again. Slowly, Dazai started to see something he hadn't before. Something fluttered in his chest..

The way she gets so distracted, the way she turned to yell at him when he took a joke too far, the way her nose scrunched up in such a way, those eyes.. Those beautifully dull eyes.

What was this feeling in Dazai's chest?

As Dazai thought intensely at his desk the others in the office grew worried. "What's up with Dazai today?" Atsushi mumbled. "I'm not sure.. I've never seen him think this much before."

"It's so clear what his problem is." Ranpo mumbled as he sucked on a loli. Dazai's head shot up immediately. "You know what this feeling is in my chest!? Please, explain Ranpo! Have I been poisoned? Is it fatal? Will I finally die? I can't die without Y/n."

Ranpo sighed as he bit off the lollipop. "No nothing of the sort, you're simply in love with that cafe waitress."

...

"Did he really just say that in front of us all!?"

Everyone at the agency thought in shock. Dazai's eyes were wide as he stared at Ranpo. His cheeks were flushed as he pondered the idea. The great Dazai? In love?

"This feeling in my chest.." He thought in shock. "That's a heart by the way," Ranpo smirked at the flustered Dazai. Dazai looked down for a moment, before springing up. He slammed his fist down loudly."This is..."

"Truly wonderful!!"

Dazai yelled as he pranced around the office. The majority of the group stared in dismay as he did so. "Ah, how perfect! I'm in love with the person I plan to meet my end with! We can plan a lovelier more passionate suicide now! How beautiful!"

"I should go confess right away! We can begin planning for our end together!" Dazai screamed with giddy as he threw his jacket on quickly. Ranpo's eyes scrunched together lightly as he thought. "You should go quickly, Dazai." He said as Dazai flung open the door.

"Will do!" Dazai yelled, running down the stairs to the cafe. As he opened the doors, he inhaled the lovely aroma of coffee before calling out. "Y/n my dear! I need to tell you something import-"

To Dazai's dismay, Y/n was nowhere to be seen in the cafe. He blinked a few times before walking towards one of the other workers. "Is Y/n here?" He asked with a hand covering his face.

"Ah, I'm sorry Dazai she didn't come in for her shift this morning.." The barista explained. Dazai's head popped up in surprise. "Uh, really?"

"Mhm, She didn't call in either. It's unlike her. She usually at least gives a call if she's gonna be late." The girl explained. Dazai's eyes furrowed as he thought.

"You should go quickly, Dazai."

Dazai's eyes shot open as he stared at the ground for a moment. "No.."

"Uh, Dazai?" The barista asked him. Dazai turned quickly, running out of the cafe in a hurry. His breath grew ragged as he ran quickly. He stopped in front of a familiar apartment complex to breathe. He then quickly ran in, ignoring the calls from a front desk worker. He sprinted and sprinted as he burst into Y/n's bedroom. "Y/n!" He screamed.

His eyes quickly scanned the room, finding it neatly tidied instead of the mess it was when he first visited her here. He then noticed the bathroom door shut tightly, while steam lightly flowed out of it. He ran to the door, trying the handle only to find it locked.

"Y/n!" He yelled, banging on the door. No answer. Dazai backed up quickly, before slamming his shoulder into the door, causing it to fly off its hinges. He looked up from the floor, seeing the sight he wanted to stop.

(Last major TW before we continue.)

Y/n laid in the bathtub fully clothed. The water from the faucet flowed continually, causing the room to fill with steam. A bottle of some unmarked pills laid on the bathroom floor, followed by a knife of which she'd used to make her wrist bleed. The fresh red liquid had been used to fill a small vile next to her.

Dazai quickly stood up, stopping the water before reaching his hands into the hot water. He wrapped his arms around Y/n's figure, lifting her up into his arms before placing her on the floor gently. He quickly ran to the medicine cabinet, grabbing a cotton swab and a roll of bandages.

He ran back to her fast, checking her pulse before sticking the cotton swab deep into her throat repeatedly until a steady stream of fresh puke left her lips. He pulled her into his arms as she came to, putting pressure on her wrist. Y/n's head felt fuzzy as she looked up at him. "Dazai.."

"Ah, you're conscious. Please stay awake, and don't move too much." Dazai whispered lowly. Y/n's head fog cleared as she came to. Realizing she'd been saved.

"No.." She mumbled as hot tears began to form. She suddenly became enraged. "Why you of all people.." "Y/n?"

"I thought you understood.. I just want to disappear from this world. Don't you get it?"

"I want to save you. I want to live with you, even if it's only for a bit before we depart together. There's still so much I don't know about you. Y/n, I-"

"Stop it!!" Y/n screamed, kicking Dazai away. "Don't you dare say it! What can you do? You may save me for a bit, you may make me feel happy for a short while, but then what!? One day it won't work anymore! And I'll want to die again!"

She was shouting.

"That's why this is all too much! Just let me have a clean death alone! You're so selfish for even coming here and spouting that bull shit!"

Without even realizing it, Y/n was shouting.

"I'm tired..! I'm so tired of thinking there's hope! Tired of waiting, finding something close, then watching it disappear! I'll never find what I'm looking for! I'll... I'll never truly be saved! Don't you see Dazai!?"

Dazai's eyes stayed still as he watched the girl scream.

"I'm so tired.. So tired.! Don't let me despair anymore.. Just let me rot."

The silence in the room was sickening. No one dared move.

Until Dazai broke the silence by cackling. Y/n sniffled confused as she stared at him. "I just keep seeing new sides of you Y/n.. You really are sickeningly complicated." He smirked at her as he inched closer.

Dazai's lips suddenly slammed into Y/n's. The girl's eyes opened wide as she stared at him. After a few seconds, dazai pulled away, a small string of saliva trailing behind. He licked his lips lightly before speaking:

"You called me selfish for saving you.." Dazai spoke before leaning close to Y/n's ear. "But I'm an incredibly greedy man my dear.."

Y/n's face flushed more as Dazai grabbed her wrist, wrapping her wound up tightly. "Even if it takes me saving you a thousand times, I'll do it all over again. So we can have the perfect suicide together."

Y/n breathes in shakily as Dazai kisses her hand gently.

"So, let's try this again. Y/n, my dear. I'm in love with you. Will you join me, in living and dying in this life?"

Dazai's words brought more tears into Y/n's eyes as she nodded lightly.

"Yes."

-Fin-

[strawberrry-gunz]

Welcome to very berry cafe!

Strawberry♡Gunz !! ⬅︎ our Newley debut idols!!

➥ sit back, relax and enjoy the show !!

our lovely fans (aka you) are called Ichihōs

(from my totally adorable bff @sakiyaki-sashimi)

(mixture of the words strawberry and cannon in Japanese!)

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა./づᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘~~~~♡

Members!!

Shouko minamoto Mio hirasawa tsumugi tenma

ritsu kotobuki

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Member info !! W.I.P!!

rooms

Official playlist!!

voice claims!!

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Cafe rules !!

do not take photos of the maids off-stage!

no asking for phone numbers!

no staying for over 3 hours!

All the maids are minors keep that in mind!

Have fun~!

Tags

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა./づᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘~~~~♡ #Fans.!! <— asks!! #Shouko.!!

#Appearances.!! <— on duty!

#Tsumugi.!!

#Public.!! <— posts! #Mio.!!

#Private.!! <— diary! (Shitpost and lore drops!)

#Vocaloidz.!!

#Headspace.!! <— inner thoughts! #Ritsu.!!

#Group formation: S♡G !! <— 1st arc ongoing!!

Unit song~!!

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OOC!!

I’m a minor!!!! And this side blog belongs too @landmineloli !!

I also run an actual kohane rp blog (but it’s filled srry!)

the starter vocaloids are miku, Rin and meiko!!

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Tw :

mentions of drugs, s//cide, $H, mental illness, violent topics (intrusive thoughts) and other unhealthy coping mechanisms!!

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა./づᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘~~~~♡

Story!!

four internet jirais find a maid cafe audition sign!, wanting to be fawned over and to make money being cute they all decide to sign up, using their charms the managed to get in.

(but if only that was simple as bonds grow and their habits clash among each other within closed doors…)

NOT AFFILIATED WITH COLORFULL PALLETE OR SEGA!!!

[relapsdcw]

10.17.2024 , 2:30am

tw:// su!cide, s/h mention, bpd, drug use, medical/ bodily fluids?

it's funny i made this account and then lost all motivation to really blog on it, and now after my boyfriend and i watching shows im high and decided to feel my feelings at a minimum intensity so i can write this lol

the last few days have been a blur, really. i woke up friday morning so stressed out i was brushing my teeth and started gagging, which ended up leading to a panic attack, and i called out of work 30 minutes prior to my start time telling my store manager i "couldn't stop throwing up" when in reality i was so anxious and couldn't stop shaking, so i called in and i couldn't get out of bed for the entire day.

then saturday came, and the stress of me calling out and how bad i felt ended up actually making me sick, and i spent the day with a fever and actually throwing up.

it made me feel good, in a way though? because i've been relapsing with my eating disorder so me being sick was a reason for me to avoid eating all together.

sunday was spent the same way- bed rotting, attempting to play video games- and then losing energy for it after an hour and laying back in bed because being awake is unbearable.

monday came; some important context is that i tend to get violently high on my off days / at night to help my anxiety, i wake up in the morning with it worn off and severe panic attacks every. single. morning. i'm unmedicated and haven't gone to receive medical care in almost 3 years. my BPD looks a lot more like A and less like B. so.. the edibles help.--- anyway, i wake up from nocturnal panic attacks every morning and it's been like that since may of 2023.

it originally started because my fp at the time had started being more emotionally distant after i got a girlfriend (i'll talk abt her in another post), and i slept-called with him every night anyway (yes i understand that is cheating kind of and i feel terrible but i would literally have panic attacks if i didn't call him lol) ANYWAY i noticed he started to get distant and he told me he was sleep calling w another girl at the same time but it felt okay because he said he kept her on his pc while he keeps me on the phone... yeah i was- it was bad erm anyway the only other thing that has really helped in the past has been either not having work the next day, or cuddling with someone while i'm asleep & them rubbing my back / holding me back to sleep whenever i wake up from more anxiety. ANYWYAY. It was monday-- i had work.

i went to work, i spent the entire day thinking i had a bladder infection when in reality i was so anxious i couldn't stop peeing (no seriously, i kept apologising to my team because i kept peeing every 40 minutes or so) and i felt SO TERRIBLE because my team was perfect we should've gotten out early anyway, i had to text my mom and tell her i had to go to the clinic in the morning, and she said okay after a few attempts of me trying to reach her. (her and my dad drove somewhere to buy erm.. idk can i say this in tumblr? lol.) anyway, i got home and my shift ended- i ran into my parents and talked about it with my mom who couldn't understand what a uti was and i just had to explain it hurt to pee.. anyway we planned to go at 9:30 on tuesday

that night also my boyfriend and i got into a fight and i ended up freaking out and trying to break up with him (i genuinely don't remember what the fight was about) (idk if it was a split or a i was hangry but i blacked out with anger) ... my boyfriend is more patient than i could ever ask for.

tuesday comes: my mom moves the time from 930 to 1130. for some reason this triggered my bpd and i started to take it as she doesn't care about me because i need to go to the clinic and she's wasting my time and she keeps moving the time to later because she doesn't want to hang out with me because she has flaked on me the last 4 times i asked to go somewhere with her and in that moment i was a little girl who needed her mom to take her to the doctor and i felt abandoned. she ended up walking into my room and giving me her antibiotics but i said i don't even know if i really had one, i didn't want to risk antibiotic resistance by taking her medication and it freaked me out- she got mad at me and we started arguing and the argument got so bad i just left. i started to run. i couldn't think about what i was doing i grabbed my phone and my wallet and just left.

i was so mad. the nausea started to set in and i started to feel sick leaving home. it felt like i was in high school again and i was scared. i just left. i'm 22 and i felt like a scared little kid. my mom and i arguing back and forth- i finally come home a little bit later after my mom and i talked. i walk in the door with her asking to go to the clinic now but i felt so exhausted from the fight i had no energy. i didn't care if i had a bladder infection or not i felt so tired- and then she kept prying. "let's go already" over and over again and it just snapped something. we started yelling-- i started yelling, i kept telling her how i thought she was just like dad, how manipulative she is and how fucked up it is that she's picking an abuser over her kids and how much i hate it when she gets high and how i cant trust her and how i cant even eat her food because its disgusting, she had known i wasn't eating and sick and i said that, and i saw the look on her face while she started to blame herself- she tried to come in and hug me but in the moment i was so scared i started to crawl away from her and told her i couldn't do this. i walked upstairs sobbing and started throwing stuff around my room, i felt like a toddler. i hated it. but i couldn't stop it felt like my emotions controlled me and i couldn't see anything good. i looked at the antibiotics my mom had given me earlier and googled them.

i could overdose on this.

it was all that was going through my mind i started to fantasise about my last moments i was sobbing dreaming about the pain but how i wouldn't have to live like this anymore; how i could finally rest, how tired i am- i felt scared for a second- and texted my boyfriend. he begged me not to do anything and i finally calmed down enough to sit on my carpet. i sat there for an hour just picking around at it trying to avoid getting up or moving because if i did, i would've reached for the bottle. i ended up getting so mad i smashed my glasses into my floor while sitting in my carpet and snapped them in 4 different pieces. that wasn't getting fixed. the rage still wasn't gone. i needed to hurt myself. my razors were within reach but instead i grabbed my hair brush. and started untangling my carpet. and i kept doing it until i felt like it was clean. if it was clean. i can be calm. if i can be calm, i can be done. and i did that for a few hours until i got up and started to clean my room. i got up and showered. my mom and i didn't talk for the rest of the night and i ended up spending the night watching movies on discord with my bf, but i got super sick so i had my face above my tea kettle boiling water so my nose could drain because erm.. i got really sick from going outside.

anyway.

now today- we'll yesterday was wednesday. my mom and i texted. i said i was sorry. i could pee with no pain until the very very end so i am instead trying to drink more water because i read that pee is actually super acidic and if u don't drink water it's super concentrated and i remember i really.. hadn't had any water the entire weekend/prev 5 days... so i've been drinking water and it doesn't bother me as much today? my dad doesn't want my mom doing my laundry because i "don't deserve it" but idk how he's allowed to live here when he's abused tf out of us our entire lives but go off ig idk ✨parental trauma sry✨ anyway my mom and i planned to go do my laundry today at 10:30am so im writing this and passing out.

i feel better today. i think. i cleaned my room more and ordered food and i was actually able to eat it. i'm kind of very broke now because i bought some stuff on amazon related to kink and wow that's expensive and i splurged more because... spending problems when upset.. lots of credit card debt.. (can get more into that too) but yeah. i ate food, my bf n i watched wizards of waverly place. i love him so much. i really do. argh lemme make an entire post abt him i swear

[kokoro-no-kintsugi]

Session II

CW/TW: mentions/allusions to ab-se, r-pe, s-bst-nce use, s-lf h-rm, s--cide attempts..a lot. Proceed with caution.

"I think it's time to get into the thick of it. Can you tell me what makes you hate yourself so much?"

Sure, I guess. I'll give you the long version.

It started when I was very young. It started with angry words from shouting voices that belonged to the people meant to love me and keep me safe. It started with abuse from otherwise trusted babysitters. It started with me being wrong for protecting myself, with me being too much, with me not knowing any better when I was barely conscious as a person yet.

Nobody remembers the bad things except for me. I guess it's easy when that's just a weekday afternoon for them, but I unfortunately took it as trauma in my formative years.

I'd like to say it got better. Sadly, no, as I aged into school years, I found out that you cannot beat perfection into a kid, but you can beat them into being a perfectionist for the rest of their lives, apparently. You can make them terrified of being themselves if "themselves" were seen as a child with "behavioral problems". You can make them overly analytical and second-third-fifth guess themselves because mistakes are not tolerable.

That's when the family deaths started. A man I was not blood related to that had treated me like his own grandchild since the day I was born, and one of the scarce amount of family I did not feel the pressure to put on a perfect kid act for, and arguably my favorite adult in my life back then..I'd watched him lose toes, his foot, and eventually his leg up to the thigh, along with his kidney function. But no one expected when he went under for surgery the last time that it would indeed be the last time. I balled my little eyes out for him. When he passed, he also took any relationship I thought I had with my grandmother with him. As I know now, good riddance. As I knew then, though, why didn't she want to spend time with me anymore? What did I do wrong? I learned many years later, she wished that my father--and by proxy, myself--didn't exist at all.

Then it was a distant great uncle, whom I'd only ever known as a funny family nickname until I saw his obituary. Another adult I'd loved to spend time with, although it was rare due to the distance. He taught me about his garden, how he'd save table scraps from his and his wife, a sweet Asian woman he'd brought home with him after a war, and turn them into compost. Turned out that soy milk and tofu were pretty good when he'd let me try them. His funeral was tough, being tired from the night before...

The night before, turns out I was just small enough to be slid through my aunt's kitchen window. My uncle, who had a penchant for alcohol, had fell asleep (so we thought) on the couch in the back room, leaving my aunt effectively locked out of her house. We couldn't have that, my dad and I, so we helped her get back inside so she could work on cooking food for the next day (we tended to eat a lot after funerals, perhaps that explains why my depression/grief always has such an appetite). Our aunt, however, was unable to meet us for my great uncle's wake. Fresh from the memorial service, a phone call struck us all like lightning; we were meeting her at a larger hospital in the city we'd traveled to for the funeral. My uncle, sadly, had not been sleeping when we'd broken my aunt back into her home the night before. My aunt discovered the next morning when he'd still not moved from the couch that he was unresponsive and that something was very, very wrong. That something being a brain aneurysm. He'd been airlifted from our small town to the hospital we'd be headed to shortly. I sobbed into my slightly older cousin's shoulder and her into mine; it's not exactly a picnic as a kid to walk out of a funeral basically into the next one in progress.

I'd never felt such a level of grief in my life until then, yet I remember my older family harshly quieting us down instead of giving us any sort of consoling. I, at some point, had taken this as emotions are meant to be quiet, bottled up, and dealt with alone. Terrible lessons for a child, I know, but I guess they didn't.

Somewhere in there, I went from being an only child to being an involuntary third parent to three siblings, who went from being difficult because they were infants to being difficult because of their own mental dissonances. As I like to put it up, we're all very different shades of fucked up.

Then, I was a teenager. A 14 year old with a quiet rebellious streak and a fondness for an older boy. An older boy that had his own problems and abuse he faced at home. An older boy who needed a pretty punching bag. It was mostly emotional abuse, destruction of any self worth I'd tried to make for myself, sexual abuse..though, I'd gotten pushed around and mistreated physically from time to time as well.

I got taught how to shut up about my feelings a lot more efficiently. Also, as a testament to the impressionability of a young teen, I learned a new method for dealing with pent-up pain, hurt, and growing self-loathing from a television show. I put a knife to my skin for the first of what would be many, many more times. I lined my arms with neatly spaced cuts, feeling some sort of relief when they welled with droplets of blood.

Sandwiched in the middle of said mistreatment, I met arguably the worst person I ever could have--the only good to have come from meeting him is that it lead to my current life. Just freshly over the line for statutory status in my state, and desperate for a love that didn't hurt, I happily threw myself at him. He seemed to give a damn about the scars on my wrists and my wellbeing in a way that no one else had been in my life so far. I sure as hell didn't give two shits that he was 5 years my elder, I mean, I was already with an older (17 to my 15) boy right? What's the difference? I spent a weekend with him behind my parents backs, and in the process learned that women could in fact be on the receiving end of sexual favors (I'll let you figure out why I didn't know until then).

The next weekend, I tried to spend with him too. I felt loved and happy for once, and I felt like a junkie looking for my next high as I hoped to spend more time with him. My father, though, being off that weekend, was meticulous in trying to keep up with his eldest daughter in the way that he always was until I moved out on my own. I was caught in my lie, and when what happened beforehand came out, my parents were angry in a way I'd never seen before. Having to tearfully explain it all over to a police officer, being forced apart from someone I cared about until I was at least 18, and being threatened with a military/corrective academy/group home when I did try to contact him one more time... I'd never felt more hated as a person than I did then.

Until my freshman year was over, I spent my time at school in constant tears and watching the great grades I'd once had slide quickly into the garbage. I knew what was ahead of me that summer anyway; any contact I could've had with the outside world was to be cut off, and I'd be stuck in a house with siblings I couldn't help but resent at the time and parents I was convinced didn't even want me as a kid anymore.

I think I made it nearly to July before I tried to ride the sewer slide into what I hoped would be a forgiving afterlife. I still remember the feeling of the overdose rather vividly. I grabbed a bottle of pills of mine that weren't being used and wouldn't be missed--I swallowed what was in the bottle. I hadn't researched this in any way of course, so it most likely wasn't a deadly dosage. But the feeling of losing feeling in my legs sure felt like my soul was being lifted from this heavy waste of a body, so I pulled myself onto my bed and fell into a silent darkness.

From my best guess, I woke up a day later. My absence hadn't been noted, and I felt an extra curse on my being that I was still alive. Why did I continue to survive in a world I wanted no part in? (I guess so I could get to where I am now..)

Sophomore year came finally to save me from my crippling loneliness. I slowly fell back in to some sort of normalcy, and took on a new personality in the form of ROTC. The rigid structure rekindled my need to excel, and I eventually leaned so far into it that, in the moments that my older boyfriend from prior didn't manage to dash it, I reclaimed some sort of power for myself. I made friends, I worked hard, I cut my hair short and leaned into the person I wanted to be.

Which was easier before the sexual assault. An older cadet had taken note of me, and decided to prey upon my naivety in the form of a late evening outing to a private pool. Why not? I trusted my fellow cadets well enough. In the swimming we'd done before the sun fell down, I found myself constantly fending off advances. I tried very hard to convince him I wasn't interested. So, he finally said he'd take me home. Crisis averted, or so I'd hoped. Wrong.

I had no idea what road we were on, out in the countryside in the dark now. I had no idea why he'd pulled over and parked until he was on top of me. I begged him to stop. I just wanted to go home. He'd forced himself inside and if I hadn't thrown him off by making up a pretend phone call with my "worried mother", I don't want to think about how much farther it would've gone. When I finally stumbled through the front door in the pitch dark, that same "mother" half-asleep on the couch, asked if I'd had fun. I'm sure I mumbled something to get away to my room and fell asleep in tears.

I wish I could say I had some time that summer to process what happened to me, or even talk to somebody about it. Of course though, I didn't. Story of my life so far (ha ha, I'm funny).

July the 4th. One of the last days I would spend with my first boyfriend. We were part of a bigger group of friends hanging out in a friend of a friend's pool, and I thought we were having fun. I guess, though, my playfulness had come off as aggravating, and I was swiftly punished in a way that I still can't quite shake to this day. He shoved my head under the water, and as my playful squirming quickly devolved into panicked struggling, I felt myself honest to god drowning under the arms of a boy that I had spent the last two years loving and serving as an unofficial girlfriend. Before I could feel my mind slide completely from the lack of air, I aimed my teeth at his chest and bit him with everything I had in that moment. Finally, I was let go, and as I broke the surface, I could barely take in any air for the coughing up of water.

A couple of friends tried to tell him he'd done something fucked up just then, but he shrugged it off. The day ended with his apology of "if I'd meant to drown you, I would've fucking done it." One friend in particular had stayed in my aide, and I tried to take solace in it.

Too bad that it had to be another boy with nothing good on his mind. That also couldn't take no for an answer. Imagine white knighting a girl from an abusive boy just to drag her out to your remote, empty house with no cell signal and turn 10 "no"s into a "whatever, get it over with". I'm glad he found somebody else to date when junior year started, because the last thing I needed to do was be romanced by another creep.

Except, to no one's surprise at this point, I was. Just not the same guy from above. It wasn't an uncomfortable relationship at first, we'd struck up a quick friendship in ROTC, and I quickly became his long distance now-exgirlfriend's public enemy number one. She brought out the worst in me, causing my mountain of insecurities and once targetless rage to culminate in a hateful campaign against her. I did things I wasn't and still am not proud of doing, but it was nothing particularly harmful or illegal...just made me look like (and feel like) a nutjob. I guess I wasn't too happy about having someone I barely knew of threaten my wellbeing however she could.

Right, this is supposed to be about the newest installment to my dating history at the time, not her. Our relationship wasn't particularly notable in the beginning, I think the only change was that I actually started liking sex instead of it feeling like a chore. Life came and went around us.

I started experimenting with otc pills not long afterward, remembering the pleasant feeling of floating off when I'd attempted over my freshman summer. I'd also sporadically add in a prescription pain killer my mom had stashed in the same cabinet; at my worst, I'd mixed it with sleeping meds as well as a migraine medicine with caffeine, downing the lot of them with a cup of coffee. This is the first time in my life I'd ever known what "high" felt like. It'd been a short lived experimentation, though, perhaps a month at most.

It had luckily (if you could call it that) coincided with my grandmother raiding the medicine and liquor cabinets in the midst of a mental breakdown, so I'd gotten away with it in the end. Not so lucky, though, I'd been the first to find her covered in bloody scars. I remember her apologizing, trying to explain what had happened, and though I'm sure she doesn't remember, I'd simply responded that I understood with a vague motion at my own scars.

Eventually, things sorted themselves out, at least a bit. I went to my boyfriend's senior prom, watched him graduate, we went on a vacation to the beach with his family, blah blah. If we weren't constantly on the edge of an argument, I might've said I was happy.

My senior year came. I dropped ROTC as I'd been passed over for a position I'd fought tooth and nail for, and the anger burned too much for me to simply gloss over. I did continue in the extra curricular parts of it, but the resentment never really died. I also found out my boyfriend was in fact another of the "10 no's and a whatever means yes" types. The year was mostly unremarkable otherwise; I was refused when I begged my boyfriend to take me to my senior prom, so I missed it. I also lost the most crucial woman I'd ever had in my life, my great grandmother. She'd been more of a mother to me than my actual one ever was. I'd always told her she'd see me graduate, but leukemia cut her life short by just a couple months. Good god did that sting. Managed to get a concussion for my senior day and still walk the stage for my community college degree later on that day. Graduated high school.

I'm sure I sound deadpan about all that. Mostly because I'd assumed I'd have finally offed myself before I ever picked up my diploma. No dice. So I started working my ass off in a fast food kitchen and took classes at the local community college. Somewhere in the midst of that, I'd been invited by friends to come to a youth group.

It was there that I met my future exboyfriend and my future exhusband (spoilers). Seeing as my current boyfriend was constantly shit-talking me to his pals even though he knew I'd see it, I started getting closer to my friends to have some sort of light in my life. My mental health got worse as my relationship collapsed, though, and I tried to overdose again somewhere in there. Which is only remarkable in the fact that I'd swallowed half a bottle of sleeping pills and managed to work a night shift at my job without anyone noticing.

Inevitably, he'd decided my getting close to my future (ex)husband and best friend was actually me cheating on him. Hilarious really, because we'd never even so much as looked at each other that way. I did like him of course, he seemed like much less of an ass than my boyfriend, but he was in a relationship and I didn't want to interfere. Boyfriend becomes ex over text, only to try and patch things up the next day. I told him to go to hell. My friends invite me over for games one day, only for me to find out he'd staged a meeting with a bouquet of roses. I once again told him where to get off, and let the roses rot and die in the backseat of my car. He even tried to say how he'd been making payments on a ring to propose and asked how that'd made me feel. "Angry" I had replied. I think he finally started to get the hint.

I'd ended up in tears at my at the time good friend's house. He talked me through things, and of course it ended up in a confession of feelings for me. Dreading the thought of being alone after being single for a little while, we back and forthed about whether it would be a good move before he left for college, but we inevitably ended up together.

What a fucking ride I was about to go on. He's the first and only person in my life to make me feel like I was inadequate sexually, however this seemed to be much more a problem with his own struggling sense of sexuality than it was a problem with me..didn't stop me from taking it personally, though. I'd even started pondering my sense of gender at this point--I was a tomboy my whole life anyway, it wouldn't have been a huge leap to just be a boy, right?

Either way, he'd left for college and I made long drives every weekend I could to see him. It helped that I'd gotten a new job thanks to the last kind thing my cousin ever did for me, referring me to her fiance's uncle, who became like a surrogate father figure in my worklife. I went down and took my boyfriend on the nicest dates I could think of; lavish dinners, expensive card and collectible store raids, the whole nine yards. Put myself in a hell pit of credit card debt.

Then my friends and I all went down to spend the weekend with him at an anime convention. The weekend would've been absolutely amazing..except. Saturday night happened. Tired and frustrated with trying to get everyone together after a late night rave, a few of us milled about on the sidewalk outside. A random person offers my boyfriend and another friend a tenner if they went across the street and made a jump from a story up the stairs of a under-construction building. They were unable to get past the gates, luckily, but another random guy was able, and managed to break his ankle in the jump.

I helped the guy best I could to get his ankle straight until he could get checked, then went over to playfully hassle my boyfriend over the fact that that could've very well been him. After a minute or two, I watched his expression go blank. He pushed me backwards first, just far enough so that his fist could wind far enough to land a hard punch to my chest. I felt the wind go out of my lungs. I felt a rushing in my ears and tears well in my eyes--then I lost some time. I was apparently hysterical, having something worse than a panic attack (in fact, I learned much later into my mental health journey I'd been triggered into a ptsd flash). Someone drove us back to the dorms, and my then bestfriend came into the room later on and it was then (must've been an hour after the fact by this point) that I was able to squeak out "he hit me" after having lost my voice since it happened. He immediately begins saying if IF it did happen, he'd blacked out, must've been because I was hassling him, whatever he could say to deflect. Right. It's always my fault, somehow.

You'd think I would've walked away from the relationship, but I sadly believed him as much as my friend did. I even ended up planning (and failing due to my car overheating halfway to the spot I'd picked) to propose to him myself, and I did, though it was an odd bojangle's parking lot instead of the beach. Woof. That's hard to relive.

I turned 21 that year. Not long after, my father said I was becoming an alcoholic. I kept liquor under my bed to nurse myself to sleep for some time. Couldn't show my face at a New Year's party I normally would've loved to been at. Turns out that this is what my depression feels like when it's bad.

After sporadic contact off and on, my friend (future exhusband) starts talking to me again. Invites me over to take some extra junk food off his hands. I get there and within a minute he recognizes that something is very wrong with me, and starts talking me into going to see a therapist.

Maybe you'll see a pattern here, but it felt really nice to have somebody see I'm struggling and give a damn about my wellbeing. All the feelings I'd had for him before that had never died off came back and hit me like a deer being plowed by an eighteen wheeler.

It came to a head on Valentine's day. We'd flirted and skirted around the gray areas of being unfaithful for a bit, but when he took me to dinner and kept ordering me drinks (I wanted them, I don't believe this was a ploy BECAUSE) he brought me back to his house and put me to bed to sleep it off, but in my drunken, sad state of being, I begged him in tears to sleep with me. He gave in to my begging, and I became something I never wanted to be--a bonafide cheater.

You could maybe write off one night like that, but once that first time happened, I couldn't stop. I loved him, I wanted him, I wanted what I thought was happiness and forever because I'd waited so long for this. But god, did the guilt fuck my head right up. The worst of my scars on my thighs came from that guilt, and I was so suicidal that I was dubbed a "flight risk" constantly. I started to feel like he was my only anchor to life.

It took a little over two months, but I finally had to come clean to my boyfriend lest I let the guilt eat me alive. I'd struggled with the thoughts of telling him as he was incredibly mentally fragile as well, and I dreaded the thought of being the one to push him over the edge. That's no excuse to lie I realize, but it was where my mind was at the time.

When I had told him everything, he'd suggested overlooking what I'd done, he didn't want to lose me. As sweet a gesture as it sounds, I simply couldn't allow the relationship to continue--I wasn't happy with him, I hadn't been in many months even before my affair, and if I'd ended things the way I should've, it wouldn't have been an affair in the first place. We remained friends for a while afterwards even as my new relationship started rolling.

Somewhere in this, my boyfriend and I spent a night hanging out with my oldest friend from school and her waste of space then-husband. We all got drunk, and before I knew it, I had three people on top of me in a sexual way that I felt gross about. I ended up leaving boyfriend there and driving myself home, wanting to throw up but not from the liquor.

I also got into smoking weed at this point. I fell in love with the stuff; it tempered the constant body pains that I couldn't get a doctor to take seriously and it helped my currently unmedicated brain process emotions a little better. One day I'd gotten high and not felt like driving, but my boyfriend and friend wanted to go to the pool. Friend offered to drive, I agreed, and laid across the back seat of my car for the ride.

We never made it to the pool. My friend pulled out into an intersection and got us t-boned, totaling my car and whipping my spine, which resulted in my one and only ride in an ambulance in my life so far. I stayed the next couple days with my boyfriend at his house, and it wasn't a couple months later that I finally moved out of my parents house to live with him and his family.

Not long after my moving in, my ex had asked me for an online game, which wasn't uncommon, but I was tired from a long day at work and politely declined. Thirty minutes later, I'd been one of a few friends and family to receive what was meant to be a suicide letter. I panicked, calling him almost a hundred times as I ran over to his family's house to bang on their doors and warn them--all of which, the calls and banging, were ignored. I thought finally to try my work phone, which had a completely unique number. He answered on the first ring. I cried in relief begging him to be okay and while he had attempted to run out into the heavy traffic near his college, he was unsuccessful and was being escorted to a psychiatric ward by a policeman. I went back home, sobbing painfully and nearly vomiting from the stress. He called once from the psych ward, and then I never (and I mean to this present day) heard from him again. I tried so hard to talk to him, apologizing over and over, begging for responses for quite some time after.

Oh well. Back to the rest of it. My boyfriend and I were happy-ish for a while, until his anger issues and general aggravation with my precarious mental and emotional state started to make arguments a regular part of our lives. Well, he argued, I shut down. I went to therapy, went through a long laundry list of medications for depression and insomnia. Nothing ever worked too well for too long.

I also lost my relationship with my cousin who'd been my best friend growing up because I refused to go to her wedding without him accompanying me; he was my rock and the only thing standing between social events and anxiety attacks. Sad. Life goes on.

Stress and drama became a usual mainstay in my life. It wasn't much different than my life before, but I was slowly losing my ability to tolerate it. Then, I brought up the idea of trying polyamory. I will preface saying that polyamory probably is wonderful for other people, but it isn't something I should've gotten into, as I was in it for the wrong reasons. I'd gotten the idea from him, he'd done it in his previous relationship. And when I wanted to try it, it was funnily enough with his previous third partner that I'd always had some feelings for, but my god what a trainwreck of drama that girl ended up being.

Then we had a threesome with one of my long term friends. He became a ENM fling for me, but I cut it short as I did not want to mess up our friendship. Then, I got the bright idea to try the same thing with the guy my parents had tried to put under the county jail when I was 15. It was fun at first, then I made friends with his ex/baby mama, and was informed that he had an STI...that he'd not mentioned at all. I was blindsided and full of rage. I struggled at first with whether I should forgive him or not, ultimately I didn't, and stranded him at work one night as I cut contact after I left him there.

Not long after, we traveled to meet my now-fiance's partner. I loved her, she was a wonderful girl, and I helped plan an extravagant weekend for the three of us. Too bad I didn't take him spending the night in her room instead of mine too well. Or him sleeping with me, me begging him to stay with me a bit longer or at least to not go over there to sleep with her immediately after he left me.. that one really didn't go over well.

I couldn't take it. I ended up making them split up, which was such a heart rending feeling of guilt for me that I had a mental breakdown at work and got rode over in an ambulance (oh, guess it was twice in my life) to the hospital. My dad had to come pick me up, and I lost my job over what I'd done to myself at work.

We got married a couple months later. I remember having a conversation with my dad and lying about how I was feeling as we waited for him to go back to the house and get his license (which you need for the paperwork part of marriage to his surprise).

October came and he took my car out one night without asking. Half asleep from a powerful dose of ambien, I answer a panicked phone call. He'd wrecked my car. I had to go pick him up, and was made out to be a horrible person for being too tired to have a proper reaction.

Except I absolutely was positively pissed beyond belief. This was my second (also my favorite) vehicle to be totaled by someone else. I resented him so much. January rolled around and in the midst of a volatile argument, he'd said he hated me a little right then. I was truly never able to let that comment go.

We fought our way through to April, having made friends with yet another trash-incarnate human being in the meantime, but it didn't matter right then. One day I sat by the river with a bottle of pills I was sure would do it this time, and a photo of the two of us together. I didn't do it, then got to make me feel like I wished I had. The next day I took myself to the emergency room and, because of my prior history, my voluntary admittance was quickly flipped into an involuntary stay.

I never felt worse than I did while I was held in the emergency room, no contact, nothing to do but be alone with my thoughts. I cried, screamed quietly, couldn't sleep despite being loaded with valium.

I was transferred to a nice hospital psych ward in the mountains. I spent my week there making friends with people of all kinds, doing group therapy, and enjoying what felt like a safe little fishbowl compared to the terrifying ocean that was reality outside.

They figured out part of the problem was an antidepressant I'd been against taking in the first place, go figure. I was finally put on a medication that worked consistently, and sent on my way.

I spent the next month after my discharge absolutely drunk off my ass. The whole month. I ended up screwing around with the garbage friend despite not having permission to do so, and nearly lost my marriage when I admitted that it happened a week later. My husband and I spent my first week at a new job fighting over text, but we were eventually able to reconcile (kinda. Things wouldn't be the same afterward but that's expected).

Maybe a month later, I met who is decidedly the love of my life, but we started off as just friends (and coworkers, too). He quickly became my best friend since we spent so much time together. I was good friends with his ex (then girlfriend) too, and the four of us hung out outside of work almost daily.

We managed to get through my birthday and halloween happily. Then, without warning, his girlfriend becomes his ex and he's being kicked out of his living situation. I honestly took offense with how awfully my best friend had been treated, and decided to show her how clearly I was on his side the only way I knew how.

I picked him up and brought him back to my house from his family's, and we spent the weekend talking through things until the sadness turned into laughter, and I had very fast and hard fallen deep in love with my best friend.

I was an asshole for asking my husband to allow me to have a relationship with him, but he did agree to it as he was afraid of me doing it behind his back if he said no. But, any yes was good enough for me at that point.

It worked for a while, he even moved in with us for a month or so. As expected, though, things blew up, and instead of trying to salvage my broken marriage, I ran away with my boyfriend because I felt something with him I'd never felt before now--peace.

And even though we spent a month effectively homeless on a friends couch, even though we've been through so many things already together, he has consistently been my peace. He has loved me through some of the toughest decisions of my life and has helped me try to rebuild my mental health with a type of patience and gentleness I never thought possible of another human being.

"This sounds like more of an autobiography than it does reasoning."

I'm sure it does, but I've at least halfway answered your question in telling you all this.

[handfulxfhearts]

OC Bio: Web Knightly

TW: PTSD, s*xual abuse/assault, suicide mention, self h*rm, depression, alcohol/drug misuse.

Age: 32 years

DOB: 30th October 1990

Nationality: British (British father, Scandinavian mother)

Gender: cis-male (he/him)

Sexuality: bisexual, pan-romantic

FC: Tobias Forge

Web was born on Tuesday 30th October, 1990, in Kensington, London, as Damien Knightly, to parents Roger (a British national) and Anita (a Swedish artist). He had a little sister, Kara, who was three years younger than him. Web was extremely close with his little sister and very protective of her, taking on his role as older brother with pride.

On his seventh birthday, he lost his parents and his little sister in a car accident. He was moved into a residential care home, with the aim to have him fostered, however this never happened and he remained at the care home until he was 18. During his time there, Web endured SA by the home’s manager, Carl. This repeated abuse has led Web to believe that he is only good for one thing, which has affected many attempted relationships in his life. During his time at the home, Web was also bullied by three older boys in particular, who initially coined the nickname Web as an insult; they stopped using it as such when Web turned it on its head and started referring to himself as such. The three particular boys who bullied him had also been abused by Carl, before Web’s arrival, and they inflicted similar things onto Web. He began using self h*rm and alcohol as a coping mechanism during his early teens, which he still struggles with now, as an adult.

Despite his traumatic childhood and teenage years, Web excelled at school, particularly in the subject of Music. He learned to play guitar when he was quite young (Carl paid for private instrumental lessons on guitar and piano and bought Web his own guitar as a way of keeping Web quiet). Despite the reasons for being given these opportunities, Web found that he was a natural musician and gained very high grades at both GCSE and A Level, allowing him to enrol at Brighton Institute of Modern Music after finishing high school.

During his second year of university, he met Shay, a nonbinary bass player from the Midlands, who he became close friends with. The two even dated for a while, but Web struggled to maintain the relationship, eventually coming clean to Shay about his past, after a very drunken night out. Shay suggested they end it, but remained close friends. To this day, Shay is the only person who knows Web’s full history.

He currently maintains a permanent residence in a loft in Brighton, with his roommate Melody, who he and Shay met at a strip club. He likes to travel a lot, with his band, and as a solo act.

For a time, Web was admitted to Brighton’s Recovery Centre, after a largely alcohol induced su*cide attempt. He remained there for several months, but did not get completely clean due to some staff and other patients offering him alcohol in exchange for certain acts.

Personality Traits: comes off as initially hostile; very shy and anxious, very caring and kind but nervous. He is quite quiet but can become quite talkative and jovial when he starts to get used to you. He is very creative and artistic and is often strumming away on his guitar. He is fairly well-spoken (except when drunk) and polite. 

Appearance: Web is 5ft 10ins, slender and toned. He enjoys going to the gym sometimes. He has a multitude of self h*rm scars upon his forearms and upper arms, as well as the tops and insides of his thighs and is rarely seen without long sleeves. He has a single cobweb tattoo over his left shoulder, and has his nose, navel, ear lobes (x3), and tragus pierced. His nose is wonky from being broken in a fight when he was younger. He has long, just-past-shoulder-length dark brown hair, and piercing blue eyes. He has a very gothic/grungy fashion sense. He often goes commando.

Triggers: his birth name (no one has called him it since Carl), being told he’s a ‘good boy’, to ‘relax’ or to ‘lie back’ (even if these things are said in total innocence, he reacts very badly to them), driving at night, driving alone. He struggles with compliments as his past dictates that means someone’s after something.

Occupation: freelance musician, occasionally works in Shay’s record store when he needs some extra money, on a zero hour contract.

Mental/Physical Issues: lactose intolerant, PTSD, depression, anxiety, night terrors, sleep paralysis, until he was 15 he used to hallucinate his dead family (he sometimes still sees them during sleep paralysis), uses casual sex as a coping mechanism which has affected many attempted relationships. He’s supposed to wear glasses due to an astigmatism in both eyes but only wears them when driving. He sometimes wears contacts but he’s lazy. Broke his nose in a fight.

Other info: Web has a ‘hard to place’ accent, embodying both his father’s British accent and his mother’s Swedish. For the most part he could get away with it being considered British, but there is often a very obvious Swedish ‘twang’, especially if he’s been drinking.

[otakusheep15]

A continuation of this ask I did but with the side characters. As with the last one, tw for mentions of s**cide and h*nging. 

Read part 1 here if you want. I’d recommend going to look at it if you want the setup of the scenarios, but it’s not needed. 

MC Attempts Suicide pt. 2

Diavolo:

He came over to annoy talk with Lucifer, but he wasn’t at the house. Instead, Dia decided to visit with you instead. He was so happy at the thought of seeing you and asking about how your time here has been so far. When he walks through your door, he expects to find you sitting in your room, maybe studying, maybe scrolling through Devilgram, but certainly not this. 

Not you standing on your chair with a rope around your neck. Diavolo has seen so much violence and death throughout his life. He is, after all, the Demon Prince, so it’s only natural. But none of that holds a candle to the sight before him. Nothing has scared him as much as this single instance. 

Diavolo races at you, careful not to hurt you, but not careful enough to avoid damaging any property. Your chair is certainly demolished and the rope has been torn to shreds. But that doesn’t matter right now. Right now, all that matters is that you’re safe in his arms. The two of you sit there for a while, nothing but the sounds of your mixed sobs filling the room. 

Despite Lucifer’s objections, Diavolo slept over for the night. And possibly the rest of the week as well. Barbatos was not happy to be the one to drag him back to the castle. 

Barbatos:

While Diavolo did forbid him from using his powers to look into the future, Barbatos did use them on occasion. Not for much, simply just to check up on you. He usually saw nothing bad, but he wanted to make sure because he cares about you a lot. One day, he’s doing his check-up when he sees a truly horrendous sight. It’s the aftermath of your hanging. 

Barbatos has never felt so many negative emotions before. All at once, he’s in your room, having teleported there as soon as he saw the future. You haven’t started tying up the rope yet, but it lays in your hands while you sit on your bed. 

You’re shocked to see him, and he uses your state as a chance to take the rope and place it down on your desk. Slowly, Barbatos kneels down in front of you and takes your hand in his. Once he has your full attention, he talks to you, telling you why you shouldn’t do what he knows you’re thinking of. He uses both logical and emotional reasons, mostly mentioning the brothers, Diavolo, the boys and Purgatory Hall, and, of course, himself. 

His speech leaves you in tears, and he embraces you, fueling his hug with as much love as he can. That night, he takes you to the castle and treats you to a nice meal he prepares, then has a guest room prepared for you to sleep in. As expected, he sleeps right next to you. 

Simeon:

Luke had baked you some cookies, but he also had to make dinner, so he tasked Simeon with bringing them to you. The cookies, as always, looked amazing, but Simeon restrained himself. These were for you, and he wouldn’t want to make you or Luke upset by sneaking one. 

After a brief conversation with Lucifer and fighting off Beel, he walks up to your room and knocks, When you don’t answer, he gently cracks open the door. Lucifer said you’d be awake right now, so he wasn’t sure why you weren’t answering. 

But when he saw what was behind the door, he understood. There you were, about to jump off your chair to your death. Simeon runs in without thinking, dropping the container of cookies so that he could grab you by the waist and prevent you from jumping. When he’s sure you won’t try anything, he lets go of you and helps to remove the rope. 

It takes a second for either of you to move after that, but Simeon manages. He grabs the container off the floor, grateful that nothing spilled. Then he quietly guided you to your bed so that you could relax. He offers you a cookie, mentioning that Luke made them. 

If you take one, he sits there and lets you eat, gently rubbing your back as you do. If you refuse, he places them on your desk and turns to you, asking of you want to talk or not. No matter your answer, he sits with you until you start to feel better and invites you to Purgatory Hall. Once you arrive, Luke is all over you like the ball of sunshine he is. He manages to cheer you up a bit, and Simeon is glad to see it. 

Solomon:

He came over because Asmo invited him. Eventually though, he decided he wanted to see you as well. Maybe teach you a couple new spells or just fool around for a bit, whatever happened in the moment. What he did not expect to happen, however, was seeing you tying a rope to your ceiling. 

Solomon knew what you were doing right away, and he was quick to stop you. He uses a simple freezing spell to prevent you from moving while he takes you off the chair and places you far away from the rope. Once every dangerous object is far away from you, he releases the spell. 

While he isn’t good with emotions, he tries his best to comfort you and let you know he’s here for you. Offers to let you rant, but he’s also fine with just sitting in silence if you’d prefer. Either way, he sits there with you and comforts you in any way he can. 

Shows you a couple of simple spells to take your mind off things, and finds some stupid show to watch online as well. Stays with the whole night, much to the brothers’ distain. 

I’m not as good at writing the side characters, so I hope these are okay and in character. 

[fairywithgremlintendencies]

rambling below (tw: mentions of depression, stalking,cyberbullying, su*cide, m*rder, self h*rm)

no fr this will be me venting quite a bit on heavy issues so if any of this triggers you, keep scrolling!!!!

my old friend just messaged me again asking for a ball ticket because she goes to another school and needs to get in through someone from my school. I said i couldn't get her the ticket partly because we haven't spoken in years properly up until now and it doesn't sit right with me, especially because when i was in a really dark place in year 8 (12-13 yrs) she was no help when i was trying to use my phone as a coping mechanism. she called me antisocial and annoying among other things. at the same time i was being cyberbullied kind of in secret by her then best friend and the whole group of us were being cyberbullied by an anonymous stalker who would make gcs and harass us on there and individually. my friends thought it was just funny. that is until the stalker brought up my friend's (who messaged me) dad who died from suicide. they also sent us very inappropriate pictures. the stalker got all up in my business from the start. they knew my home address, mum's first name and brother's, where i was at any given time, and my usual hangout spots and gave me physical descriptions of my close friends. she blackmailed us by saying things to us such as "i'll tell you my real name if you tell your friend to k*ll herself". she said this to my friend and two of my friends had s fake argument but the stalker found out not long after. then she threatened my friend with rape and murder. the stalker told me to tell the friend that messaged me to make sure she is ready because she will "f*ck her and kill her". the stalker told me to make sure my mum looked behind her on the way to work. told me i was a coward, that i should just k*ll myself. my friends wondered why i didn't find anything fun anymore even though the stalker messaged most of them too. but i guess i was a main target. "you can't be depressed" one friend said. "you're jumping and smiling". i knew i would never really cut. so i scratched because it helped me to feel real again. i developed a dissociative disorder along with serious depression and su*cidal thoughts. the stalker contacted us for all of term 2, vanished, then came back in term three. i became jumpy whenever i got a new message. cried my self to sleep. was teased by another friend. skip to the year after. my depression only comes in waves now but they sure hit hard. stalker said goodbye and never went back online. her first message to me a year back from then was "hi *name*. i'm coming for you". i'll remember this as terrifying for the rest of my life. the depression may have lifted a bit over the holidays, but my anxiety symptoms were larger than ever after all that happened. i finally got therapy after a year of being too scared to. the friend that teased me and i had a heated argument over instagram. worst app ever why do i still use it. caused me to lash out at my family. like i used to when it was really bad. my insecurities grew. i had to throw out certain pair of clothing because of the bad memories and teasing attached to them. I had new friends now. they were more like me. quieter. i had one friend back when it was really bad who believed me when no one else would. she was one of the reasons i didn't die at 13. we're still close. i won't forgive the others and i don't think i have to. we never found out the stalker's identity, although i have suspicions. i'm currently friends again with one of the people who used to cyberbully me. i never forgave her but i know that we were young and stupid and i think she gets a second chance. luckily for me she is much nicer now. i though my confusions were over until i started questioning my sexuality. luckily in the end i was able to overcome my internalized homophobia towards myself. if anyone read the whole thing and related to any of this i want u to know that i'm happy to support any of y'all if anyone wants to talk or vent. if you just keep going somehow there is always a positive side to it, even if it's just the taste of cookies or cuddling a dog <33 you're always better off alive in the long run

as for rn i'm scared to check insta in case my friend texts me back and i get insecure about how to respond again fvnfjvnd

[littlebunnybabyy]

DNI is at the end of this post!

soo helo! my name is Lorey, but you can also call me Bunny! I'm an age regressor, and I regress to either cope with things or just for fun, because being little makes me happy!

I go by he/him and bun/buns/bunself pronouns, they/them is fine too but yee I identify as a boy!

am very soft and sweet hehe so don't be afraid and feel free to send asks if you wanna ask/tell me something!! (anon turned off for safety reasons) and please remember to not break my DNI! important side note, please don't dm me if I have no idea who you are!- I'm not very comfy when talking to strangers-

I wanna start using tags more often to separate the types of posts I make soo-

I'll use #reblog when I reblog something that I dunno how to tag or isn't about me

#little bunny talks will be for when I make a post while regressed, and #big bunny talks is for when I'm, well, not regressed in that moment!

#candy!🍭 is for all the posts with my stuffie, Candy!

#important will be for important stuff and #info about bunny will be all the posts containing stuff about me! (not gonna use this one anymore cause I keep forgetting eHDJJ)

#bunny's drawings is for my art!

I'll probably update this as time goes on (and I think about more tags I can use) so yee!

TW for grown up and bad stuff below! (will be marked with /// from start to end)

×/// my DNI includes: you are/support/have a blog about k!nk, dreamcore/weirdcore/traumacore (I don't mind people supporting these but please don't interact with me if your whole blog is about that!), drama, depression, bl//d, s//cide, self h/rm, (no)map and all its variants, agere hate (or any kind of hate), (pro)ana/mia/thinspo, anything related to all those things or stuff I forgot to mention that makes me uncomfortable. if I see any of these things constantly on your blog (list will be updated when it needs to be), you'll be blocked (or soft blocked, depends on what I see on your blog), I'm sorry but I want to keep myself safe and happy while scrolling through Tumblr and would appreciate not stumbling across these topics, especially if I'm regressed :( ///×

thank you for reading! I hope you have a nice day!!

[crow-papa]

Andy's DNI / BYF / About Me

DNI

° if you are a part of ageplay (includes things like cgl, ddlg, abdl and variations) and petplay or anything that s*xualises children / child items or pets / pet items. Or if you support these things. (Even if it is in private or on a separate account.)

° if you are a part of k*nk or anything nsfw on this account

° if you are anti agere (agedre) / petre (petdre) or sfw noncom versions of these, or if you s*xualise any of these things

° if you are a MIK or MAP or support any of these things

° if you are homophobic, transphobic or generally lgbt+ phobic ( this includes not supporting nonbinary genders or neopronouns, for example)

° if you are racist, xenophobic, sexist, ableist or discriminatory

° if you are anti therian / otherkin

---

Triggers (don't mention these things. If you need to please censor or TW them.)

° s*lf harm (e)

° su*cide (i)

° h*spitals (o)

° psych wards

° weight

° e*ting disorders (a)

° calories

° ab*se (u)

° gore

° yelling/ anger

° kn*ves / bl*des / r*zors (i, a, a)

---

Disclaimers

° I am anti ageplay (which includes things like cgl, ddlg, abdl and variations). I do not harrass people who are a part of these things. I am just against it because I believe it s*xualises children / child items and simulates child ab*se. (Please don't debate this with me. If you disagree, this page isn't for you.)

° my messages are open, as long as they are completely sfw, non invasive and respect my rules / triggers. And respect that I am autistic (self dx currently) and have mental health problems and have trouble with conversation. So please be kind and use tone indicators. Also please don't just say 'hi', say what you want in your first message. And don't ask 'can we be friends?', just send me stuff or ask me questions.

---

About Me

Hi. My name is Andy. I am a sfw non com pet and age regressor and these are some facts about me.

° I am a male and use he/him pronouns.

° I am trans and aroace.

° I am a minor who is completely sfw.

° I am a sfw non com pet and age regressor. I am also a carer.

° I age regress from around 0-8.

° I pet regress to a few animals. The ones that I know of are a puppy, a kitten, a bear cub and a crow.

° Some nicknames I am okay with are Pup, Kit, Cub and Pa. Or you can just call me Andy or A.

° I am self dx autistic and semiverbal. (And age / pet regression is one of my special interests.) I also have trouble with mental health issues and tics.

° I am maybe a therian / other kin. But I am not sure.

So bye.

[yours-truly-dangan]

Soul Friends (1) (Hajime/Kazuichi)

Hello howdy hi,,, before I get started I’d like to drop in a trigger warning for the contents of this story because I care about the comfort of my readers. TW for s/lf h/rm, su/cide attempt, homophobia/ internalized homophobia/ homophobic slurs, one mention of v/mit and mentions of an ab/sive parent/ ab/se. If you’re ok with all of that please enjoy!; if not, I urge you to scroll past. This can also be found on my AO3, yours-truly-dangan-ronpa! Thank you^^ <3

-

-

Kazuichi burst through the door to his cabin, smearing the surface bright pink with his blood as he stumbled hurriedly into the dark room. He panted and focused on not gagging or collapsing, his motion sickness affecting him greatly. He unceremoniously kicked the door shut, locking it with his significantly less bloody hand. He didn’t care that Hajime was hunting him down like his dad would when he was a kid. He didn’t care that Hajime had unintentionally cut a huge gash in his palm when he ripped the razor blade out of his hand. He didn’t care. Not at all.

    The pink-haired male tore open a drawer that contained a severely picked-over first aid kit. Damn it, he cursed inwardly, I’m out of bandages. The mechanic panicked for a moment, realizing that the only place that he was sure had bandages was the pharmacy. He considered wrapping his bleeding appendage in a towel long enough to leave the hotel and dash over to the second island, but his motion sickness said otherwise. Kazuichi had already narrowly avoided puking his guts up on the way back to his cabin. He didn’t want to chance it again.

    Besides, the probability that he’d run into Hajime in his panicked jaunt was too high for comfort. He’d narrowly avoided running into anyone else on his excursion back to his cabin, but he was mostly relieved that he didn’t have to explain why it looked like he’d killed someone with his bare hands. Despite his annoyance at Hinata for his actions, he subconsciously thanked him as well. The cut served as a bittersweet reminder that Kazuichi was still alive- something that Kazuichi had planned otherwise.

    He hadn’t been doing well for a long time. Really, his problems became him. Insecurity, inadequacy, internalized homophobia. Souda had known he was gay ever since he learned the meaning of the word. Ask him and he’d never admit it, but it constantly sat in his gut like a tumor begging to be cut out, threatening to metastasize at a moment’s notice. He wanted nothing more than to go back in time and tell himself, that little boy with the short raven-black locks and thick-rimmed glasses, to never change his appearance into the pink-haired, sharp-toothed creep he was. I mean, Souda would say perverted things about Princess Sonia just to make it seem like he wasn’t some deranged freak… if that makes any sense. It still made him feel worse.

    Hajime Hinata was the real subject of his affections. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious; I mean, if Kazuichi immediately oversharing about his childhood trauma upon meeting him and dubbing himself and the brown-haired boy ‘Soul friends’ wasn’t evidence enough. Not only that, but Kazuichi was always excited to hang out with his best friend on the island. I mean, there was the small yet feisty Fuyuhiko to whom he was also close, but he didn’t get the same rush with him as he did in Hajime’s company. Not only that, but he also found the boy very attractive. He wasn’t super muscular, thick lashes framing verdant green eyes. That coupled with his stern yet friendly demeanor and the ability to get along with everyone, the mechanic had to admit that he’d fallen head over heels for him. Sure, he was plain and a little boring, and didn’t even have a talent for fuck’s sake! But Kazuichi’s certain he had an eye out for Chiaki, which Kazuichi gleaned from watching them sit and play video games in the hotel lobby for hours. Sometimes he’d invite Fuyuhiko to play air hockey just so he could non-maliciously eavesdrop on their conversations. It wasn’t creepy! He was only trying to convince himself to move on.

    Being gay was wrong, that was something his father had (quite literally) beaten into his head since he was still eating sand from the sandbox in kindergarten. Even though Kazuichi had never uttered a word about it to his father, he always knew. Maybe that’s why he’d call him a sissy, a faggot, and chant that gays deserved to die. The mechanic believed every venomous statement that left his father’s lips. Maybe that was why Kazuichi had tried to off himself.

    But of course, Hajime just happened to be taking a nighttime stroll on the beach. Simultaneously, Kazuichi was sitting under a slender palm tree with hot streams of tears cutting through his cheeks like molten metal. He’d already brushed the blade gently against his skin but he hadn’t worked up the courage to do anything too deep yet. He remembered how much he panicked when Hajime started to walk toward him with that determined aura he always maintained. Kazuichi stood up and pulled down his sleeves to try and get away without suspicion but Hajime caught up to him before he had the chance to escape.

    “Hey, I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here so late,” Hajime began, noticing the wet lines on the other’s face. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve been crying.” Hajime reached out for him but Kazuichi jerked away out of habit, accidentally revealing the razor blade he clutched loosely in his hand. He swore he could hear the click that occurred when Hajime realized what was going on. “Kazuichi, give me that!” He demanded, lunging for his wrist.

    “Just l- leave me alone!” Kazuichi tried to hold it above his head but Hajime twisted his wrist and ripped the blade from between the mechanic’s nimble fingers, slicing the flesh of his hand in the struggle. Kazuichi’s eyes met Hajime’s for a split second, seeing them clouded with worry. The mechanic clutched the now weeping wound and turned to flee into the dark.

    “Kazuichi, wait! I’m so sorry!” Hajime screamed after him and began to sprint across the sand in pursuit. 

     His heart rate finally calming, Kazuichi looked at his hand again. Because it was still oozing the warm fluid down his arm it had already soaked the bunched sleeve at his elbow. Once this was all over he’d have to figure out how to get blood out of fabric. They probably had something at the Rocketpunch Market for that. He sighed in defeat, looking around the room for something to wrap his arm with. He nearly screamed when a thud came against his door, the doorbell ringing and his doorknob jiggling frantically.

    “Kazuichi please talk to me!” Hajime demanded, slamming on the door once again. “Come on, open up! I know you’re in there, your blood’s on the door!” Kazuichi winced as he heard the sound of what was probably his body colliding against it. All he did was stare at the door like a deer in headlights, wondering if he had enough time to jump out the window and swim away. After a bit of silence came Hajime’s voice again. “You’ve given me no choice.” The sound of something jamming its way between the door and the frame started to enter the mechanic’s ears which made him jump to his feet and start looking for a way to prevent him from breaking in. He hurriedly starts pushing his table covered in bike parts toward the door to barricade it but he heard the lock mechanism click open before he was halfway there. Hajime shot through with the speed of a tempest, blocking the only exit with his body. Kazuichi noticed the razor blade in his hands- it must have been what he used to open the lock.

    “Go away!” Kazuichi shouted at him, backing into a wall. “You- I-” Kazuichi said, holding his injured arm to his chest. It stung like hell but he was more worried about Hajime’s course of action than his pain tolerance. Hajime stepped closer and Kazuichi weighed his options. He could run past Hajime and hide somewhere else but he needed to treat his arm soon or he’d have bigger fish to fry than hiding from his shame.

    “N-no!” Hajime retorted, approaching lightly to ensure Kazuichi couldn’t bolt. “You said it yourself. We’re soul friends, right? Does that mean nothing to you?” Kazuichi narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth at Hajime but those green eyes of his didn’t waver. Damn it. “I don’t understand… please, talk to me! What is going on?” Hajime stood, defeated. It took a lot to make him look as dejected as he did now.

    “I can’t tell you! You wouldn’t understand! You would think I’m crazy, disgusting, a freak-!” Kazuichi gasped as Hajime pounced on him and tackled him to the ground. He really couldn’t escape now.

    “I would never!” Hajime held Kazuichi still despite his squirming, “Have I ever judged you for anything like that before? I mean, the Sonia thing, but that’s different.” Hajime said in a calm voice, and it was clear that it was meant to calm Kazuichi enough to talk. Even though he knew what Hajime planned to do, he caved. Kazuichi didn’t have the mental capacity to fight it.

    “Yeah, yeah, ok, I guess you haven’t,” Kazuichi said bitterly at the Sonia statement. When this all blew over someday he’d have to apologize to her for using her as his cover-up. However, today was not that day. “But still, I-” Kazuichi whined desperately, suddenly wishing he’d run from Hajime before he had the chance to corner him.

    “I won’t be upset, no matter what you say.” Hajime settled, loosening his grip on Kazuichi’s arms. “I should probably get Mikan for these…” Hajime blurted offhandedly, staring down thoughtfully at Kazuichi’s self-inflicted wounds. Kazuichi jolted so violently that his arms were freed, and he used this opportunity to sit up across from the brown-haired boy. Hajime jumped as if he thought Kazuichi was about to run but settled when he realized that the mechanic had simply sat with his knees to his chest, face buried in the crevice between them.

    Hajime gently placed his hand on Kazuichi’s shoulder which caused the mechanic to lift his head. His eyes were watering and his nose was running profusely. “Please don’t get Mikan,” Kazuichi sniffled pitifully, “I don’t want a-anyone to see me like this.” Hajime nodded solemnly.

    “We have to do something about them. If they get infected we’ll have no choice but to tell her what happened.” Hajime said, tapping his chin in thought. “Let’s walk to the pharmacy and I’ll fix you up. That way you don’t go alone and I can keep an eye on you.”

    “You don’t have to babysit me,” Kazuichi mumbled, averting his gaze. Hajime crossed his arms over his chest authoritatively, tilting his head in worry. Kazuichi stifled a giggle when he saw his ahoge wiggle with the movement.

    “After what happened, I’m not leaving you alone. Not until you talk to me, that is.” Hajime bargained, trying to get Kazuichi to stop scowling. It worked. “We all care about you- even Sonia and Gundham do! It’s not ideal but if it keeps my soul friend safe, then I’ll do it.” Hajime sighed, making intense eye contact with the pink-haired boy whose face was burning bright pink. “Walk with me?” Hajime offered his hand, which Kazuichi took gingerly. He pulled him to his feet and carefully lead him outside to the Hotel’s gate.

[your-local-autistic]

It's about time I make an about me post so....

Name: Aiden

Age: Minor

Pronouns: in order of preference, they/them

My pronouns change semi-regularly, and when they do, I'll edit this post

Gender: genderfluid

Sexuality: panromantic lesbian

Trivia: I'm autistic, I wear multiple alt fashions, I collect clown dolls, and I love the film sing street. I also age regress

Notes: I don't do chain mail! Please don't send me it or tag me in it! (This is things like 'send this to people/tag people who deserve a good day', not tag games or picrews). I don't trigger tag food, but all food/food mention is tagged as '#food' if you need to blacklist it. If you need me to tag anything else though, send an ask and I'll do it

DNI: Racists, Kink/NSFW/ddlg/abdl, anti neopronouns, nazi, pedo/MAP, gore, untagged SH or s**cide related art/images, unreality blogs, clown haters (people with coulrophobia are fine, as long as you don't say that everyone should find clowns scary or weird), people called any spelling of daisy-mai or similar names (if you're unsure, send an ask), proshippers, if you send hate mail, people who post lots of pictures of fursuits (nothing against them at all, I just have a phobia), or anti-age regression.

If you're unsure if you can interact, just send me an ask

Mutuals please tag (tw for potentially triggering, but censored, things below cut):

Flashing

Being in a simulation/being controlled by an ai/that kinda thing (I have simulation tw and variations of that blocked for this one)

S**cide mention. Yes, even if the word is mentioned once, even if it's in a url or it's not even part of the subject matter. Even if the word isn't mentioned but someone jokingly says they want to die. I can't stress enough how much this one needs to be tagged.

S*lf h*rm. Not as triggering as the one above, but if the word's mentioned or the topic comes up, please tag it.

G*slighting

Black deodorant bottles (especially if it's a gif/video where they're being sprayed)

The name daisy-mai and all variants like daisy mai, daisy-mae, daisy-may, daisy mae, and daisy may

People hating on clowns/saying that clowns are things like creepy or weird in a rude way. Especially if they state it as a fact. Also negative portrayals of clowns, like pennywise or 'evil' clowns. This one isn't a trigger, it just makes me feel really bad. (Clown hate tw/cw can work for that one)

Pictures of fursuits. Again, not a trigger, but they are a phobia

Most of these have tags you can use but for the ones that don't, tag them as 'aiden don't look' please

[choco-style]

TW: s//cide, tr//ma and s//f-h//rm (uncensored mentions and other)

kinda random thought, but lately I’ve been so pissed at people who have the word “suicide”/”suicidal” in their username. Like oh my god that can hurt so many people. At least if it’s in a singular post it’s less likely that people will see it (although you should still be careful), but parading around on wholesome/funny posts and commenting when your username includes that is just so awful in my eyes. I don’t know, I might be overreacting and I don’t have trauma or anything so I don’t wanna speak for others, but it gets me so so so mad.

It’s like, would you set your profile picture to a photo of wrist cuts?? No you fucking wouldn’t. Would you even have the words “self harm” in your ursername? No. So why is it okay to call your account “suicidalamandaxd”?? (disclaimer: that’s a made up example)

idk I just. am so worried. Like you could comment the funniest thing I have ever read in my life, but if your acc has a possibly triggering name then I won’t like or reply to your comment, because that’ll push it up in the comment section, thus possibly harming more people. Not that me interacting with comments is anyone’s concern, but still. I hate it. Why would you even do that. If it’s to cope, you should still consider other people’s well-fucking-beings. I don’t go around calling myself “suicidalraluca” just because I wanna off myself. And ofc not everyone is in the same position but??? How bad does it have to get for you to not only OWN the suicidal title, but also spread it publicly with no warning? What’s the thought process behind that??

[ao3feed-danganronpa]

Trigger Happy SMP (Danganronpa AU)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/33VY9a5

by lilachoneeey

Fifteen students are rounded up to participate in a game, one of which is TommyInnit. A seventeen year old boy who's talent is gaming. How do they get out? By killing.

  (This story will be uploaded on Wattpad as well, go check it out for extras when it is uploaded!! I do a ton of interactive stuff with followers! Go check on Tubbo's Surge here on AO3 AND on Wattpad, Wattpad is completed)

TWs: -Death -S**cide -M*rder -References to S*lf H*rm -References to Drinking -Blood

It is rated Teens because the characters are teenagers are there are no mentions of sexual content throughout the story. No one gets fucked, I promise.

  Follow my Instagram: @bi._.lavvy and @bby._.aesthetic

My friend also has a Twitch and I did art for her soooo his twitch is @FuschiaLav

Words: 1419, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: Gen

Characters: Toby Smith | Tubbo, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu, Hannah | Hannahxxrose, Jack Manifold, Alexis | Quackity, Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Dream XD, Karl Jacobs, Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed, Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF)

Relationships: Ranboo/Toby Smith | Tubbo, (It's platonic so stfu), (POPPYTWT DNI OR I WILL CRY), Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Dream is Junko in the beginning soooooo UHHHHHH no dnf lol

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, danganronpa - Freeform, Light Novel: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc IF, Murder, Murder Mystery, Everyone is gay except Tommy lol, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Its fluff because of friendships, yk, Tommy is Naegi, Wilbur and Techno were friends when they were younger, So were hannah and tommy, Clingy TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), poppytwt dni

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/33VY9a5

[bullets-mp3]

tw sh mention, void post

sometimes i feel like if i wouldn't have picked up a piece of broken glass that day my life would be so fucking different right now. like that was the first time i think my bpd really manifested itself and my intrusive thoughts overwhelmed me to the point where i gave in to them. s*lf h*rm has since become an integral part of my battle and sometimes its so frustrating to know a lot of my problems wouldn't even exist had i just not started doing it. i resent the fact that i had a shitty fucking therapist that did not try to help me stop because “we do what we do because we know it works”. fuck you. fuck you for telling me my scars “weren't that big”. you knew i was mentally ill and how my brain would process that statement. i went home and c*t to fat. i needed fucking stitches. you never offered me any help while i was begging you. 

i feel like i let s*lf h*rm consume me for so long that at the slightest inconvenience its still immediately where my brain goes. the second im hurt it takes so much effort not to r*lapse. will i always feel this way? why did i ever start doing this. im so tired of living this way. its so embarrassing being 22 years old with this problem. ive been managing my bpd symptoms really well, and haven’t had any major episodes in almost two months but god i swear all i ever think about is r*lapsing. it plays over and over in my head all day every day and i have to pretend that im recovering. im scared to tell my therapist that i r*lapsed because shes put so much faith in me and thinks im doing so well. i feel like ive made progress for sure, but i also know that my intrusive thoughts are just as bad as they used to be and im thinking about su*cide again for the first time in months. 

the fact that im not even having bpd episodes like i used to and i still want to c*t makes me feel like this is some sort of cruel joke. what do i even have to r*lapse over? i want these thoughts out of my head so fucking bad because its so tempting all of the time. i even get laser treatment on wednesday and will for the first time not have as much weight to bear over the fact that i have so many scars on my arms. how could i still possibly want to c*t? how screwed up am i for getting treatment done and continually fucking myself over anyways?

what a waste of a person