#cw: guilttripping

[sweetandsavageautistic]

(CW: Exhaustion rant, feeling invalidated, dysfunctional family, guilt-tripping)

I’ve been trying to stick to a schedule for a voice-acting project that I’m behind on and I’m starting to follow it; while I was editing up the part I planned to get done and send in today, my dad told me to watch the dog. I told him I was busy and he got mad at me, saying I don’t help around the house. He recognizes that the schedule I’m setting is something, but he always follows it up with “but....” I kind of feel like things I do have a tendency to fall on the back burner in favor of helping the family, but what if I put a dish in the wrong spot? What if I can’t fit something somewhere?

I’m tired of them asking me if I can do something, but having it not really be a question because there’s apparently a right answer.

I’m tired of them asking me if I want to do something and me saying no, then them asking me why not and when I answer, they get upset.

I’m tired of asking someone to go somewhere else to give me alone time to give me space for my mental health, realizing it may be a bit unreasonable, and then asking this instead:

[Photo ID: Text message in green saying “At the very least, can you stay there until about at least 10:30/10:45 or so, strongly preferably the latter? I’m not someone who can decompress quickly.

Text message in white, denoting a response from someone else, saying “Probably, but please think would you do that for me?”

Text message in green from the phone owner saying “So is that a yes or no?”

Text message in white, denoting a response from someone else, saying “I’m leaving soon but that’s mean Ill either be back at 10:30 or later.”

Text message in white, denoting a response from someone else, saying “But im upset you would ask that but no do that for me” Photo ID end]

I’m tired of confronting them about that and telling them it felt guilt-trippy only for them to turn it around and tell me that me telling them that something is for my mental health is the ultimate guilt-tripping phrase because it places the responsibility of someone’s mental health on another person.

I’m tired of someone in my family asking me how I am and my gut response being “what do you want?” because I’m so used to that being the reason they say hi to me.

I’m tired of my family seeing me as selfish for not wanting to spend time with them instead of trying to talk to me about why I feel that way.

I’m tired of my family getting upset at me for my chronic escapism instead of trying to talk to me about why it’s happening so much.

I’m tired of my twin sister micromanaging me on outings and vacations.

I’m tired of being told things like I can’t request songs like Solovey by go_a or songs from Ride the Cyclone on a song request sheet at a wedding because apparently I’m only supposed to request “basic wedding songs.”

I’m tired of feeling like I don’t know who I am some days and instead I just borrow who I am from fictional characters to make up for what social skills classes stole from me.

I’m tired of sacrificing my sleep schedule because it’s quieter at night and no one is awake to tell me what to do.

I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one in the house without any sense of power or control.

I’m tired of feeling so out of place at parties. 

I’m tired of feeling like the tolerated friend, the one no one wants to actually form a close bond with, just to casually talk with.

I’m tired of feeling like I need to bottle up my emotions and my anger because I’m scared of confrontation.

I’m tired of people trying to push against any boundaries I may have set.

I’m tired of relying on allowance as my only source of income: If you want me to commission some writing, this exists. Please help me; I’m tired of relying solely on my parents for money: https://www.fiverr.com/lydialuna?up_rollout=true

I’m tired of feeling like every little mistake is going to make them upset and make them cut my allowance again.

I’m just.....tired....

[paradisecursed]

(from belos) i was trying to help you.

@aeinsof/ unplotted. / part 2. 

He’d let hope take root in his heart again. Fool that he was.

The doors to her chambers had been thrown open with more enthusiasm than they had in some time, &. Darcia had marched in with an equally foreign lightness to his step. Behind him followed the reason for his wayward vigor: his benefactor, the emperor. In his gilded hands was held a promise - a potion vial, filled with a thick, green-black ooze.

Faith, the man from the other place had called it, it is what will save us all. 

The lord Darcia was at her bedside at once, staring down at her body, frozen in time, for what he’d been so certain would be the very last time. He’d been so certain he would see her smile again.

Darcia turned, reached out a hand, &. requested the flask.

…I’m not so sure that’s wise, my friend, The emperor kept the potion close.

Darcia’s face fell. “What do you mean?”

Well, it’s just that… The other man tapped the chin of his mask, your curse. If that’s what infected her to begin with, I worry that it might affect the potion. 

“- But if it is a cure for paradise sickness,” he countered, “then that shouldn’t matter.” 

He turned back to her. Expression softening, his hand trailed the rim of her sick-bed - catching strands of her hair as he went. He watched, idly, as they roped around his fingers in loose, shimmering knots.

“We are connected, even now.”

The emperor paused, head tilted to angle the wolf king a sympathetic stare. I suppose you’re right, he said, tone presenting a sad smile, Here. 

He held out the bottle. Darcia practically ripped it from his hands.

Stumbling over himself, he fell to her side - unable to be there fast enough. Shaky hands damn near spilled the potion trying to claw the cork out, yet he tempered his eagerness with enough caution to prevent such tragedies. A hand slipped under her head, lifting with the sort of care reserved to the most delicate of valuables. A pause; placing one feather-light kiss on her brow. 

Her head cradled against his bosom, he forced her mouth open with the vial’s lip. Desperation loosened tenderness, &. he held the bottle more harshly against her lips than perhaps he should’ve. A rivulet of that foul color still dribbled down her chin. He rubbed it away with his sleeve, &. more still when a stain stubbornly remained.

Only when her sickly snow skin began to redden did he tear himself away. The bottle was thrown aside with a resounding crash, glass scattering across the floor like a million little stars in a pale sky. He stepped back.

&. waited.

&. waited.

&. waited.

&. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waitedwaitedwaitedwaitedwaitedwaitedwaitedwaitedw

&. waiteSeconds passed. Minutes. Half an hour. The inky-green stain did not clear off her throat. 

She never smiled.

The sight of her body, tranquil &. still, had not made him quite this nauseous in years. He gagged on his bile in the form of a quiet, shallow inhale. 

Hand - gilded spider talons - Cold. Was on his shoulder.

Snarling, he tore himself out of the emperor’s grip. His back hit her sickbed. A sputtering hack - foam pooling at his lips. An ache blossomed in the small of his back, hands scrambling to find purchase in fistfuls of her hair. Ragged breaths, reverberating off the walls. Lips twitching, bared teeth.

The emperor raised both his hands, as if he was some dog bade to heel at his command. The scraping click of golden heels on tile, drawing close. Arms outstretched, talons reaching. An animal, cornered. 

So soft was it said; all at once a condolence &. accusation &. lecture for ignored advice. It made his ears ring.

I was trying to help you.

“— LEAVE ME!” He lunged, words slurred together as the beast forgot his civility in human speech. A wild eye rolled frantically in his skull, too distraught to look but desperate to tear the offending carcass open with but a stare. An unsteady hand flew up to his eye-patch.

&. stopped there.

A glacier crashed into the sea, as he did unto his knees. 

The emperor beheld a trembling, wretched thing. Leather-bound nails clawed into the granite as he dragged his vile body to the sanctity of her bedside by his knees. The squealing, keening sobs bubbling in his throat reverberated off the walls. He did not hear them. Hand over fist, he crawled forever up to the edge of her bedside, for there was no other mountain so lovely &. so horrible. 

His hand burst over its peak, finding her arm &. grabbing tight enough to bruise. On her anchor did he hoist himself up that final stretch, forcing himself to once again confront the nigh-imperceptible rise-&.-fall of her bare, pale chest. The soft downturn of her dirtied lips (how many stains had his filthy hands left on her, now?), frozen forever in an expression of morose peace that was simply wrong on her face. The rivers of hair spread out from her nape, pooling on the floor &. round his hands in the only embrace her ghost could give.

One last sob burst from his bleeding chest. He buried his head into the crook of her neck, pulling her head close against his as he tried, haplessly, to smear some of that sickly black stain onto his cheek. 

“Leave me.” He pled again in broken whispers.

“Leave me.”

[konigsblog]

orlaaaa!!!

which childhood best friend is more likely to guilttrip you into having a sleepover with him even though you're both adults

cw; somnophilia (könig), non-con/dub-con (johnny+könig), simon (sfw). MDNI 18+ 💤

soap, könig, and maybe even simon .. 👀

johnny loves spending time with his best friend. he doesn't care that you're both adults and it's pretty childish, he wants you to stay over, so he can touch you in your sleep. if you knew what he got up to while you were asleep, you'd avoid him like the plague. he keeps his perverseness a secret, jerking off beside you creepily.

könig is pretty similar to johnny. könig is into somnophilia, he has the irresistible urge to have sex with you while you're asleep. one issue, you're just friends—best friends, but nothing else. könig feels disgusting and deranged when he slides his calloused, large hand into your panties, his thick fingers curling inside your tight, velvety hole. you're so still beside him, so unsuspecting, too trustworthy.

simon isn't as perverted as könig and johnny, instead he admires your face. he'd never ask you out, too fearful he'll destroy the only relationship he really has. you're all he wants, but you can't get everything you want in life. he'll run his scarred, rough fingers over your soft cheeks, smiling freely without worry. he wishes he could have you all for himself, so damn badly, but he's unable to. busy with the military, too traumatised to allow you to deal with him 24/7.

[blackswan446]

Hello Evieee!, im new to your blog but i already read lifetime and thief and i really like it. Can I request part 2 of lifetime where oc tries to escape and get punished by jungkook and then oc tries to be obedient then wants to request something that makes jungkook hesistant to consider? ☺️ thank you 💗

lifetime || two.

→ pairing: yan!jjk x reader

→ synopsis: we live for so many years, why not make them the happiest you can?

→ wc: 3584

→ cws: manipulation, guilttripping, murder, implied dub-con

→ notes: originally wasn't planning to do a part two on this cus i didn't have any ideas for what could be next, but this ask sparked inspiration so i'm really excited :)) thank you for asking!! <3 also the ending kind of suggests a part 3 and i have an idea for it but i dunno when it'll come out sooo

part one || m.list

the last three months seemingly dragged by like years. every second felt like a minute, and every minute felt like an hour. you were like a bird, skittish and anxious to escape the cage they had been locked in by a cruel captor.

to any outsider, your misery would come off as nothing but ingratitude and paint you as a finicky, spoiled brat. and honestly, you couldn't blame them for it. because anyone who peered through the tall glass windows of the luxurious mansion was bound to see just that--luxury. all they would see is the glass chandelier, the marble counters, and the endless indicators of money and class.

what they wouldn't see is the basement. the dark, damp, cold basement that you lived in--not physically, but mentally. you were trapped in this imaginary basement, and as much as you tried to claw at the concrete walls, and bang on the metal door, you couldn't escape it, not if you dedicated your entire life to it.

aside from the obvious, your life was perfect, at least by society's standards. you had everything you ever wanted and could get anything else you wanted at the drop of a hat. nice clothes, expensive jewelry, high-end makeup, flashy accessories. but you never really used them, since you didn't exactly leave the house, unless if it was time for you to play dress at one of jungkook's fancy work events, and cling onto his arm, following him around the whole night, your youth and beauty grabbing the attention of his rich business associates and peers, while you hoped that the pleading look in your eyes would alert the otherwise-blind millionaires to your distress.

since you didn't leave the house much, jungkook thought ahead and considered the inevitable boredom you would face. he stocked the house with as many hobby supplies as he could get his hands on. art, baking, reading, you name it, it's there. and anything that wasn't there would show up a mere hour after you requested it. not that you ever did, but jungkook practically bent over backwards to sweeten the pot for you, to put the rose colored glasses over your eyes and prove that being there with him was a good thing.

but none of this changed the fact that you were miserable. you missed the outside, you missed your life. you missed your achievements and the payoff of your hard work, which proved to do nothing for you inside of the prison you were trapped in. you missed the serenity of your street and the walk to your favorite coffee shop. you missed being human. physically you were a human, of course, but in your eyes, you felt as if you were nothing more than a shell, who didn't feel the pain of everyday problems and the joy of solving those problems. as much as you complained about them before, you would give anything to get out and feel those emotions again.

but after months of sulking, you finally had a plan. jungkook had placed security around the house--partly for his own protection and the safety of his house, and partly to keep you from getting out. you had never spoken to them, and they never spoke to you. but today, this would change. stuffing as many shiny jewels, expensive shoes, and silky dresses into the biggest and most expensive handbag you had in your closet, you put on a pair of basic shoes and the only black jacket you could find.

exiting the closet, you descended the grand stairs and looked around for the guard. not just any one in specific, but the one that stood by the front door. you needed to talk to this one only, it was crucial that you extended this offer to him and only him. why? you had overheard him talking in a hushed voice with a fellow guard, practically erupting with envy and awe at the house he found himself in. you knew he would fold immediately at what you had to offer and not say a word about it, which is why it was so important for you to talk to him.

you spotted him, in his usual spot by the door, staring straight forward with a blank look on his face. you took a deep breath, and approached him, and as you did, he shifted to stand more in front of the door. "do you need something?" he asked you. you looked around quickly, checking for any other witnesses before you began to speak.

"please, i need to get out of here. you need to let me leave." you pleaded quietly. the man shook his head. "no can do. i'm sorry." he said coldly, not even bothering to look at you. sighing, you held up the expensive handbag at rested at your side, and opened it to reveal the mess of jewels and fabric you that hid inside. "please," you repeated, "just let me out, and it's all yours. this, and whatever else you can grab from the closet before he comes home."

he peered into the bag, and he didn't need to say anything for you to know what he was thinking. but he didn't let up. shaking his head again, he returned his attention back to the house in front of him. you sighed in frustration. "please, i can't stay here anymore. you can tell him i jumped out of a window. you're not allowed to go up there anyways, right? you won't get blamed. besides, you can sell all this stuff, or give it to your wife, or-"

you were interrupted when the guard abruptly reached out and yanked the handbag from your trembling hands, holding it behind his tall figure. he didn't look down again, or say anything, but instead he stepped sideways, revealing the knob to the front door and the surprisingly simple latch that unlocked it. you laughed, out of relief and partial disbelief. the relief, though, was kind, and warm, and it washed over your mind like water and undid the tense knots in your body.

it was also very brief.

in that moment, the exact moment that you had regained your sweet freedom, one set of footsteps managed to make it crash down around you. "princess, is that you?" jungkook called, swiftly entering the foyer where you and the guard stood, caught red-handed in your scheme. you whipped around quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly, and your guilty eyes met his suspicious ones. "what's going on here?..." he trailed off, taking in the sight of you in tennis shoes and a jacket, and the guard holding a very familiar, very expensive handbag behind his back.

inhaling deeply, an eerie calm took over the man, his earlier confusion evaporating as he put the pieces together. you swallowed thickly, heartbeat deafening in your ears as he looked back and forth between the two of you. without a word, he grabbed you by the bicep and yanked you closer to him, the clean soles of your sneakers squeaking on the shiny floor. he then stuck his hand out towards the guard, fingers open as he shamefully returned the bag. "i deeply apologize, sir. i was wro-"

"stay here, mr. ahn. i'd like to have a word with you later." jungkook said coldly, turning on his heel to ascend the stairs behind him, dragging you with him. you glanced down from the top of the stairs at mr. ahn, who wore a look that could only be described as pure terror. he knew what was next for him, he knew that he had messed up beyond repair.

leading you down the maze of hallways and identical doors, jungkook finally stopped at a new one, and also the biggest one you had seen, which was obviously his own room. shoving you forwards towards the bed, which was on the other side of the grand room, he pushed you down to sit on the edge of the bed and went to shut and lock the door behind him. it wasn't until he had returned, and took a seat next to your shaky figure, that he spoke.

"i'm not mad, princess." he said calmly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "i'm just confused. why would you try and escape? what were you thinking?" he asked himself, scoffing in annoyance. "are you really that unhappy?"

you turned your head to him, slowly, and stared at him in utter disbelief. "i mean, i knew you would need time to adjust. but running away from me? after everything i've done for you?" he continued, shaking his head. "why did you do it, angel? just tell me. why'd you try and leave me?"

"because this place is a prison. you kidnap me, and take me away from everything i've ever loved, and lock me in this cage, and try to distract me with all these fancy clothes that i can't even wear to anywhere, and give me these stupid ass baking pans, and art canvases, just to try and dumb me down, and make me forget what you did to me! so you tell me, jungkook. why do you think i tried to run away?" you exploded, giving him a nasty glare as he nodded slowly, in a way that made him look more amused than anything.

"is that what you think it is? a prison? after everything i've done for you. the money i've spent. the blood that has been shed, the dirty blood of that whore, that i watched pour from her head after i hit her. i do all of that just for you, and this is how you repay me?" he seethed. "honestly, [name], i'm hurt. i thought you would be happier here, but apparently, i was wrong." he said, the white-hot tone of his voice now gone and replaced by a remorseful murmur. your glimmer of hope shined through once again at the idea you thought he was suggesting.

"i know i shouldn't be mad at you. it's all my fault that you're so unhappy here. all alone, all day long. it must be awful. you must be so lonely." he said quietly, fiddling with his hands as he stared down at his shoes. "i'm so sorry, [name]." you didn't respond to his apology, and you let it bounce off your heart and onto the floor in front of you. "i'm going to do so much better. okay? i know what i can do!" he smiled, a wicked idea forming in his mind. "i can change my position at work, and instead of going there everyday, i can do my work here, and stay home with you!" he exclaimed, smiling proudly at his new plan. your heart sunk to the floor at his words. the last thing you needed was jungkook sticking around here with you all day long.

you shook your head. "no, jungkook. you don't-you don't need to do that." he waved his hands in denial. "nope," he vetoed, "it's decided. i'm telling everybody tonight. trust me, princess, this is for the best." he sighed contentedly, before his voice got low and serious. he stood up from his spot next to you, and stood right in front of you. "now, we may have solved the problem, but we still need to address what happened earlier. what you did isn't okay, angel. it was rude, and stupid, and it hurt me a lot. how do you think that makes me feel as a provider? as someone who loves you? honestly, [name], do you enjoy hurting people like that?" he asked.

though you had tried to resist it, the dagger of guilt had managed to stab you, right in the gut. jungkook sounded hurt, and the way he put things made you feel like a total piece of shit. you shook your head again. "but, you're not the only one who did something wrong. mr. ahn's actions told me all i need to know about his loyalty and how much he cares about his job. so the only right thing to do now is punish those who were wrong. that sounds fair, doesn't it?" he asked innocently. you nodded, stomach sinking at the direction this was going in. "use your words." he commanded, putting a firm hand on your shoulder. "yes, that sounds fair." you whispered weakly.

"now, there are...a few ways...i could punish you right now. but you're not the only one who messed up. and besides, i think those other ways would be better reserved for when we're home together. yeah?" he joked, the smirk potent in his sweet voice. "so here's what we'll do. mr. ahn was unloyal to me. he didn't do what i asked him to, and i don't go for that. but, i'm going to leave it up to you,"

"should i go and kill mr. ahn right now, or,"

you shook your head frantically. "jungkook, no. please, don't. it's my fault, okay? i'm sorry." you pleaded. he nodded. "yeah, princess, it is your fault. and now, you're paying the price. so, i could go and kill him right now, or,

i could burn down this entire house with everybody in it, including us."

your stomach lurched at the sick words that fell from his mouth so easily. tears brimmed your eyes, blurring the glow of the chandelier above you into a mess of golden light and black suit fabric as you looked up in disbelief. it felt like every organ in your body somehow stopped working and kicked into overdrive all at once. "please, jungkook. you don't have to kill anybody. please, i'm sorry. it's my fault. just do whatever you said earlier to me. please, don't hurt anybody else." you choked out, cheeks slick with tears.

he shook his head. "those are the only two options for you, princess. i like your enthusiasm, though. so what'll it be? kill one man who deserves it, or bring down ten other innocent people, including yourself?" he probed, pushing your jaw up to look at him. "now, [name], or i'll choose for you." he warned.

"the first one!" you spat. "now, which one was that? don't be shy, princess, i want to hear that sweet voice of yours." he teased, smirking at your distress. "kill mr. ahn." you said weakly, your blurry vision just able to make out the smug grin on jungkook's face. he shrugged nonchalantly, dropping your jaw from his hands and letting it fall as you laid your head in your hands, barely biting back uncontrollable, heaving sobs. "if you say so."

he left, strides long and shoulders back, and the seconds once again felt like hours as you were left alone in the unbearable silence. though you preferred deafening silence over what was next. the yelps of pain, the pleas, and the deafening sound of bones cracking and bloody knuckles meeting bruised flesh. even from a floor away, you could hear the atrocity from the bedroom. you clasped your hands over your ears, hoping the blockage and the sound of your own crying would mute the tortuous sounds.

after a disturbingly short amount of time, you heard the thrashing and struggling grind to a stop. taking your shaky hands away from your red ears, you pulled them close to your chest, crinkling back into a fetal position on the bed as your wails echoed off the walls of the bedroom. tears flooded from your eyes, onto the fabric of the comforter and into your hair, and only got worse as you heard the sound of dreaded footsteps drawing closer to the bedroom.

as you wallowed in the pits of hellish guilt, you made a promise, to both yourself and to everybody else that stood in the unpredictable path of jungkook's rage and violence.

this was never going to happen again.

❀⊱ ═════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ═════════════════ ⊰❀

this time, you were confident. there was no way your plan could go wrong. this was your guaranteed ticket to freedom.

you spent months being obedient. conforming yourself to be the perfect one for him. ever since that horrific day, when an innocent man died because of your careless decision, you committed yourself to the mission of making sure something like that never, ever happened again, not if you could help it.

so you listened. you let him say whatever he wanted, do whatever he wanted. you were more than just his ragdoll, though, you played along. you smiled at him sweetly, and listened to his words, and told him you loved him with a kiss on the cheek every night before sleeping.

of course, it made you sick. knowing the hands that grabbed your waist and played with your hair and made you dinner and everything in between were the same ones that brutally ended the life of innocent people made your stomach twist in ways it never had before, and you hated it.

every night, you felt so marked, so unpure, so dirty. like the blood that he washed down the drain like nothing that day had stayed on his hands and left smudgy, sticky handprints all over you. but maybe, just maybe, your trying days and sleepless nights would finally pay off.

knocking softly on the wooden door, you didn't need to wait for jungkook to respond before you opened the door. looking up, he smiled happily as he saw you come towards him. "there you are, princess!" he greeted, closing his laptop as you smiled back at him. you greeted him quietly as you shut the door behind you. "come sit, darling." he beckoned, tapping his lap as he pushed his chair out, "i missed you today."

you obliged, a sharp tinge of disgust striking through your heart as you straddled his lap, resting your chin on his shoulder. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him and sighing deeply. "how was your day? do anything interesting? i wish i could've stayed with you today." he said wistfully, rubbing his hands up and down your back gently.

you shook your head. "not really. it was good, though." you replied. sitting back, you met his eyes, the hesitated look on your face acting as the dangling carrot in front of the hungry rabbit. "what is it, sweetheart? you look sad."

you shrugged. "oh, i don't know. it's kind of silly. don't worry about it." you chuckled, fiddling with your fingers as you spoke. eyebrows knitting together, jungkook shook his head. "no it's not, baby. tell me what's going on." he probed. for a second, just a split second, your mind began to wander into the waters of uncertainty.

"come on, you know i like to hear your sweet voice."

your heart lurched at the sentence, one that was forever stuck in your mind as a painful reminder of that awful day. suddenly, the uncertainty was gone, replaced by an urgent sense of eagerness and determination.

"i just miss my old life." you admitted. "i was just...so proud of everything that i made for myself. not that i don't like it here with you, but i miss my routine. i miss going to the store, and getting my coffee, and walking through my neighborhood. it took me a long time to finally gain happiness, and i wish i could've held onto that for a little longer." you said sadly, eyes welling up at the memories of the life you once cherished.

jungkook nodded slowly. he stayed silent, but you could see the wheels turning in his head as he considered your confession. "and, i was kind of wondering, if..." you sighed shakily, "if it'd be okay for me to go out? just for the day, sometimes. and i'd come back here every night. i would just want to go back to my apartment, and get my old clothes, and have another one of my favorite drinks, and visit the old park i used to walk at."

looking back into his eyes, you were met with his own eyes being focused on the floor. he had a thoughtful expression, and the oh-so sweet glimmer of hope that had been extinguished for so long finally regained its spark. he stayed like that for a while, as if he were picturing everything you just said and everything that could go wrong.

"i'll think about it."

your eyes widened, eyebrows raising and the corners of your mouth curling upwards. "really?!" you exulted, sitting up in his lap. he smiled and nodded again. "yeah, really. you've been a good girl, i think you deserve a reward." he grinned. "thank you, thank you!" you cheered, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug and kissing his cheek.

"of course, darling. anything for you." he beamed. "why don't you go to the kitchen and have someone start on dinner? i just have one more call to make, and then i'm all yours. sound good?" he hummed. you nodded happily, hopping off his lap and bubbling out of the office.

it worked, it worked so well! the glow of freedom was so close, you could practically feel its warmth absorb into your skin as you skipped downstairs. everything seemed brighter now; the lights illuminated the room in a different way, the vases of flowers were more vibrant, and your soul felt like it was shining more than it had in months.

if only you knew the storm cloud that was headed your way.

[llitchilitchi]

Soo copacetic AU : )

Do Dream and Sam ever meet again after Dream is rescued and starts his healing arc? (Assuming he isn’t just killed by techno sjdhsj) What might that look like 👉👈

/ cw: manipulation/guilttripping and all the usual stuff related to copacetic au. neither of them are okay and neither of them looks at their situation in a healthy way. this is far enough into the healing arc that Tubbo's made significant progress with Dream's prosthetics for him to use more regularly

"You can stand again," Sam notes as Dream steps closer.

"Somewhat, yeah. Tubbo's done wonders. Phil helped," Dream replies as he takes a seat across from Sam. "It's not the same." Never will be, he wants to say, but they were given five minutes and not a second more, and he doesn't want to lose a second of that time to pointless arguments. Instead, he settles on: "I still have to use a wheelchair, most of the time."

Sam hums and nods. "So you came to show off?"

Dream bites his tongue, takes a deep breath. He counts to ten, tries to at least, but stops at seven. "Kind of. If you want to call it that way."

"I could help," Sam offers, turning the conversation back to himself. "The prosthetic," he specifies. "Could make it better."

"Thanks." Dream clings to civility despite the pang of guilt, the small voice in the back of his head telling him to let Sammy handle things. "I'll leave it to Tubbo, though."

They sit in silence, then, neither sure what to say, now that they've been stripped of their roles. It's Sam who speaks first.

"I'm glad to see you doing well," he admits, and Dream wants to believe that it is sincere.

"You're the reason I was not well in the first place."

Neither of them knows when it began. Neither knows whether they mean Dream's legs or the lack of baby fat on his cheeks, where the hurt truly begins and ends and how much of the blame is for Sam to take. All of it, George would say. Most, if it was Sapnap speaking. Dream can only blame him for so much without knowing he pushed him there.

(He knows a push does not necessitate falling head first into this mess, and Sam did little to regain his balance.)

"I did not want to do it," Sam mutters, his voice grating against his throat with pain and regret.

"You hurt me."

"I know."

"And you're not sorry, either."

"I swear I never lied to you when I told you that I wouldn't have hurt you if you'd done what I told you. But you didn't. I had to."

"I know."

If you'd behaved, Sam thinks, there would be no need to deny you food. If you'd given us the book, there would be no need for the torture. If you'd stayed, there would be no need to clip your wings.

I hated hurting you.

They fall silent, and the next time Sam speaks, it's Dream's name with an echo of a second voice from the outside. Dream forces himself to stand, gripping the chair to keep himself steady as he regains his balance, and then turns towards the door.

"Wait," Sam calls, and Dream stops before he can think about disobeying the order. "Will you come back?"

Dream remains still until the door opens, with Bad waiting on the other side, and he walks out of the room.

He stumbles.

Sam smiles.

[whumpberry-cookie]

Can i please have prompts of Two sickies getting taken care of by the caretaker but one sickie is sicker than the other so the other sickie just gets slowly forgotten and becomes way sicker than they were before.

And the caretaker is just so guilty about it.

Thank you so much for the ask and for the patience! I've been having a bit of a break from writing.

(Cw: field medicine, abandonment, bad whumpee, guilttripping, burrial)

--------------------------

Caretaker promises Sickie 1 to go back and check on them before the night, as soon as they end taking care of Sickie 2. But Caretaker is so exhausted after the whole day that falls asleep in the armchais in Sickie 2's room. Sickie 1 keeps waiting. And is too hearbroken and lonely to sleep.

Field medicine. The painkillers are running out very quickly. Maybe after some infectious disease. So Sickie 1 stops getting any painkillers and Sickie 2 gets the double amount due to their condition. That's the decision stoic Caretaker took in order to save everyone. So Caretaker sits with Sickie 1 and holds their hand as they cry in pain.

Sickie 1 has no way to entertain themselves. No book or media etc. So the only thing that makes their days different is when they can talk to other people. But due to loneliness and pain they become bitter and reproach Caretaker everytime they show up. "Surprise surprise, I'm still alive. You have to wait a bit longer to burry the body". "Oh, I almost didn't recognise you, Caretaker" Either Caretaker is mature enough to understand it's because of the pain, or is prideful and at some point just stops coming at all.

(C:) "Oh, oh dear! Your forehead's burning hot! For how long they were like that? Why didn't you tell anyone?!" (S:) "...the doctors weren't here since the friday and I had no strenght to get up" (C:) "Then you could just tell the nurses that were bringing you meals! Sickie, this is serious!" (S:) "....they didn't come either"

Sickie 1 and 2 are good friends. But Sickie 1 can't help but feel envious for the attention and care the other get. And Sickie 2 knows the them well enough to know it. So at some point Sickie 2 asks to be moved to Sickie 1's room so the nurses have to take care of both of them equally. Caretaker only then sees how badly Sickie 1 was treated.

--------------------------

[segasister]

Hey… I have a friend who is contemplating death by suicide. I don’t know what to say. I don’t wanna come off as a heartless asshole, and I know not saying anything isn’t gonna help either. So… what should I say?

… Okay. Let’s start by learning what NOT to say to a person who is feeling suicidal:

“It’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” To be honest, when the problem is something as serious a as bullying, abuse, or anything of the like, and we’ve tried to solve it as best as we could on our own, that problem is looking a lot less temporary. Do not say this unless you’re willing to help them solve that very problem.

“Don’t be so selfish.” I’m hoping you already knew this much. If not, then let me be the first to say that being called selfish for wanting to take our own life doesn’t make us want to stop doing that. It doesn’t make our depression go away. Variants of this and a more detailed explanation in the next point:

“Think of the people who will miss you”/“Your pain will just be shifted to someone else”/“Who’s going to take care of X person or Y thing?”/Anything along those lines. Now this one does work on certain people, but not everyone. This right here would make the person feel guilty for wanting to die by suicide, if we weren’t already. This also comes across as making our depression about you, or really anyone who is not that person. We might start thinking, “So what I feel doesn’t really matter?” And if we were thinking that before, this might confirm those thoughts.

“You’ll go to Hell if you do.” This one was actually used on me in an attempt to stop me from doing that final act. Sure, I’m still here, but it’s not because of that, as I am not religious. But religious or not, trying to fear monger a suicidal person is a despicable thing to do, especially if that person has once suffered, or is still suffering, from religious trauma. And even if it doesn’t, they might consider the Hell down below paradise compared to the Hell they’re living in on Earth.

“Do it then, coward.” Also used on me. The person who told me this also has the added bonus of grabbing a knife from the kitchen and handing it to me as they dared me to cut myself. This is just outright malicious. Do not say this under any circumstances, even if it is in a joking manner. But why would you joke about something as sensitive as this? This isn’t gallows humor.

So instead of any of the above, lend an ear, take them to therapy if you/they are able to. If not, I suggest take their mind away from those dark thoughts and onto something that would actually make them feel better. Of course, therapy and medicine are ideal, but anything is better than seeing your loved one in the middle of, or any time after, making that final desperate act.

[bloodpenned]

🔮 Anon: What's that? "I also have ideas for hysterical Kylar" you say? By all means, share them!! 💗😈I adore the idea of extremely clingy characters who shatter when they're apart from you... blowing up your phone, crying and broken, convincing themselves they've done something wrong ... growing desperate, willing to do anything to make up for perceived slights ... 😩 please share your ideas; I'd love to hear them! 💖💖

these are some general high jealousy kylar hcs i have! they totally don't kind of fall apart nooooo some of these kinda tie into some appearance hcs i have for ky but yeah ! cw: selfharm, stalking, manipulation/guilttripping

In this state, Kylar is very emotionally unstable. There are moments where they're convinced they're the one at fault, where they'll bawl their eyes out while wracking their brain over what they did wrong. Retracing their steps and interactions again and again. But they come up empty. At that point, they will definitely blow up your phone. Begging you for forgiveness, asking you how they can make it up to you, promising to do whatever... They'll tell you whatever you want to hear. However, there are also times that they're angry at you for denying all of their efforts. For pushing them away when they're so clearly hurting. This is when they clutch at straws. It's not that they want to cause you pain, they by no means enjoy it, but if the only way of having you is under their knife or tied up... Well, Kylar will take it over not having you at all.

If they discover you're quick to feel guilty when they're upset, they'll exploit that. It's not quite with malicious intent, they're just so desperate for your attention that they'll use any means at their disposal. Having you comfort them makes them feel fuzzy. Still, you'll need some grand displays of love to get them anywhere close to calming down. Just being nice for a bit won't get you anywhere in the long term. Once you start hanging out with someone else or focus on your studies, just anything that takes your mind off of them, and they'll feel left behind. What Kylar feels towards you is obsession, even if they believe it to be love. Everything else in their life pales in comparison to you and your presence, your attention gives them a high like nothing else. (And nothing makes them as sick as your absence.) You'll be their first choice forever and always. Them not being your priority in everyday life will make them believe you aren't in love with them, and they're quicker to draw this conclusion when they're already very jealous. No matter what you claim through words.

When you're getting along with them, they take better care of themselves. Unfortunately, the opposite is also true. Kylar's got bags under their eyes they don't bother to hide. Since they can't remember the last time they took a shower, it's no surprise their hair is so greasy that it sticks to their forehead. They reek of chemicals. (And when they don't, it's the smell of sweat that clings to them instead.) Nails are bitten short. Their skin's breaking out and they can't stop picking at it, scabs covering their face and leaving scars. School work is about the last thing on their mind. Their grades have been dropping to miserable results. Petals spill out of their locker, courtesy of all the flowers they've stolen from the orphanage yard.

They prevent you from looking at their sketchbook without them around, or keep a seperate one at home. For good reason. It's not just filled with sketches of you anymore, or funny drawings to pull a smile on your face. Kylar vents through art, twitchy scribbles of them hurting the ones you are closest to, of winning you like they deserve. They vomit their intrusive thoughts out on paper for temporary relief. (Maybe, once, there's something quick and messy of you with their knife to your throat, against a wall. But once their anger faded, it made them sick and tear up. They scribbled over it again and again and again until their pen cut through the paper, then threw it away.)

Rather than just stealing your underwear, don't put it past them to steal a whole outfit of yours. (If you just held them for once, they wouldn't need to.) They'll dress themselves up in it and curl up in their bed, hugging a pillow to their chest while closing their eyes. If they empty their mind and take a deep breath, they can almost pretend you're cuddled up against them instead.

Kylar also spends a lot of their free time stalking your social media. They're refreshing it every couple of minutes despite having notifications on, screenshotting every post you make. But that's also true for them at lower jealousy. Now though, they also really want to know who you're talking to privately. It eats away at them. At least in real life, they can see it when your eyes wander to someone else. You're going to get a lot of notifs of attempted logins. Besides that, they'll create fake accounts purely to interact with you, try to just flirt or become friends with you. They have to know your responses, whether you reject these strangers or go along with their advances.

i repeat: selfharm cw.

They'll push themselves to extremes to make their devotion clear, to prove to you they're worthier of your love than anyone else. Kylar tugs you aside in school one day, not to pull at your clothes or yank you into a kiss but to show you something special. With trembling fingers and an even shakier smile, they lift up their shirt. Your name is cut into their stomach. The wounds are shallow, but red and swollen around the edges. D-do you get it now? They'd do anything for you!! They care more about you than anyone else!!! Would they do something like this?! They get no enjoyment from the pain, only the thought of you pulls them through it. But there's a part of them that hopes it scars.

[flower-boy-roxanne]

hey!

im dirk! this is my personal intro post & it includes triggers specific to me, so PLEASE PLEASE tag your own posts with cws for my content triggs if you follow me!!! with that in mind, read the entire thing, please <3

( system dni & info located on our art blog )

about

full name is dirk roxanne strider, as a quick explanation for my url :3

i use she/they pronouns and identify as demimale! my headspace body is intersex

ABSOLUTELY NO REFERRING TO ME BY HE/HIM I WILL SCREAM

i age-slide! about 15-25

i also age-regress, typically as a response to stress and/or trauma but it can also be a result of excess affection, babying/patronizing me (which i actually dont mind much but if you do it just to make me regress we’re gonna have a problem bud), etc.

i go by dirkie when im age-regressed!! if you see me posting during those times please refer to me by that name and try to be extra nice. if i was stress-/trauma-triggered into regression i may be very emotionally sensitive. i prefer to be talked to like a little kid/baby too and i may talk very childishly (unnecessary word pluralizing, wrong verb tenses, w’s in place of l’s and r’s, easily excited, etc.)

i pet-regress into a cat mindset due to a very particular situation in the past. i will absolutely not discuss it here and im not afraid to get an aggressive/violent protector up to roast your ass if you repeatedly pester me about it. like seriously dude you dont actually wanna know anyways

NEITHER OF THESE ARE S-XUAL THINGS FOR THE LOVE OF G O D . we dont support “““s-xual””” agere because that isnt and shouldnt be a thing its fucking disgusting please let me regress without ppl thinking its s-x roleplay in peace—ITS NOT I AM IN THE LITERAL FUCKING MINDSET OF A LITERAL FUCKING CHILD. thank you <3

i have severe exotrauma. all my posts discussing it will be tagged #dirk talks trauma, feel free to block it. i also try to appropriately cw/tw tag them (i use the term tw only but its just because including both drains my spoons)

that said, dont! ask me! about! my trauma! directly! I WILL TALK ABOUT IT WHEN I WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!!!

not only is our body autistic but i was autistic in my canon!! just a fun fact :3

i try to avoid using :) emoticons and prefer :D, :3, and the like. idk ive just had a fair share of experiences where its used in a (jokingly, usually!!) creepy/threatening context so it doesnt read well to me

please dont dm me without asking!!! ive got some of the worst anxiety & paranoia in this system, plus ive got a small bit of trauma relating to unsolicited dms

asks are always okay though :3!! so long as youre not bein a dickhead ya know? anon is off tho for comfort n trauma reasons, sorry about that

(if you want me to answer your ask privately just tell me!! i might accidentally be a fuckin idiot n post it publicly tho, just a fair warning)

i somewhat suspect myself of ocd, but i havent had the spoons to do enough research for confirmation

I AM VERY BAD AT READING TONE. please tag things /j, /lh, /s, etc. so i know you arent genuinely trying to be a dick to me

(may be added to)

my tags

#dirk.txt — regular text post

#dirk.png — art/edit post

#dirk.jpg — shitpost, memes, otherwise non-artistic images

#dirk.mp3 — original song lyrics, voice recordings

#dirk.pdf — creative writing post, infodumps, ideas

#dirk.gif / #dirk.mp4 — gifs, videos

#dirk talks trauma — discussion of my exotrauma, including vents

#dirk updates — quick notices about the blog, my personal life, or anything that may have impact on blog interaction (that of myself or other users)

#little flower — the post was made while i was age-regressed

#catnip flowers — the post was made while i was pet-regressed

(may be added to)

blacklist

(catchall cw tag is #flower boy dont look! i feel like dirk dont look might be an already used tag for some people hgsfcjj :'))

ANYTHING relevant to inc-st, p-dophilia, r-pe, ab-se, or isolation (tags: #incest, #incest mention, #pedophilia, #pedophilia mention, #rape, #rape mention, #abuse, #abuse mention, #isolation, #isolation mention)

the word “selfcest”

using he/him pronouns for me and/or implying that im a fem gender for using she/her

not exactly a trigger but i might act weird or cautious around alpha dave fictives & kins, nothing personal (technically) just trauma

making jokes about abandonment or death without joke tagging (though it still makes me VERY uncomfortable & anxious!!!)

discussion about breakups and/or exes in terms of a romantic/s-xual relationship (tags: #breakup, #breakup mention, #exes, #exes mention)

treating me like an object or subhuman, joking or not. just dont

using particularly harsh insults for me even as a joke—ie dumbfuck, wh-re, shitbag. im ok w being called a dumbass n bitch n stuff but only in a joking context!! if you want to know any other boundaries on that just shoot me an ask my dude. also dont call me slurs :(

the idea that fiction doesnt affect reality (points at myself then at my str-d-rc-st exotrauma. bitch)

i know its legit a part of my url but PLEASE dont call me roxanne unless we’re close!! it makes me uncomfy when strangers/acquaintances use my mid name for me :(

implying or stating that im guilttripping. my spirals, emotional outbursts, etc are almost always trauma responses. saying im guilttripping in itself when im actually in severe emotional distress is a trigger to my trauma with our exes. i have very little power over my spirals and often struggle in dealing with situations that are newer to me, emotionally and otherwise. i am not guilttripping, im acting on a trauma response.

if you put words into my mouth or twist what i say i guarantee you furorem will judoflip you. we have trauma with being lied about and intentionally misinterpreted too, thanks.

(may be added to)

thanks for reading!! have a fuckin fantastic day, yall

[lesbian-janai]

to your tony rant: Not just that, one of these people lost their brother in it. like, wanda lost her brother and Tony really doesn't care bc he guilttrips everyone in the room

you’re right! i completely forgot about pietro (but so did the russos tbh) i mean… he wasn’t even mentioned in the movie at all? nobody really seemed to care about his death, not even the two people who cared about him most (wanda and clint) and it’s actually really heartbreaking now that i think of it. they lost an avenger in the fight against ultron and nobody even mentions him??? wanda didn’t even seem to miss him at all in civil war! imagine if the russos let her mourn her brother, imagine her blaming pietro’s death on tony because of him creating ultron, imagine clint blaming tony as well (i’d like to think that was the main reason clint was on steve’s side and not tony’s but since when does anyone give clint any characterization?) imagine wanda saying to tony, “of course i care about the people who died! my own brother died in that battle! you really think i don’t care at all?!” it would’ve been so great!!! just… ughhhghgh why wasn’t that in the movie that would’ve been so powerful whyyyyyyy

also wasn’t one of tony’s weapons dropped on wanda and pietro’s house? and that’s why they were orphaned and turned to hydra? (ughhhh i’m still pissed about that why on earth did whedon have them work for hydra why oh why???) imagine if tony actually had mentioned pietro’s death like “we lost an avenger in sokovia, i’d like to keep that from happening again” and then wanda’s like “so now you care about my family? where were you when your bomb was dropped on my house and killed my family?” (i don’t even know if he ever apologized to wanda about that… maybe he did in aou but i haven’t seen it since it came out so i don’t remember. he mentioned that he wasn’t selling his weapons anymore once he found out they were used to kill innocent lives but he never really seems to contemplate what he did? he seemed to blame the people who dropped the bombs more than he blamed himself for creating and selling the weapons in the first place) or what if he didn’t mention pietro at all and wanda was like “you care so much about the innocent lives that were taken by your creation yet you haven’t even mentioned my brother!” the possibilities are endless! why didn’t the russos let pietro’s death play a bigger part in cw it would’ve been so great and would’ve made wanda and clint’s decision to be on cap’s team make so much more sense! 

also, back to clint, why can’t the directors actually take time to explore his character? my biggest issue with tony is that he takes up so much screentime in the movies that he’s in (that aren’t even his movies) that there’s no time to explore other background characters! tony had his own movies to get as much characterization done as possible (three of them, and his character arc in im3 is still really good imo, but everyone seemed to forget about his anxiety and ptsd after that movie :\) so why can’t the directors use the avengers movies to explore characters that don’t have their own movies? whedon took the lazy route and slapped a family in for clint so that the audience would actually care about him, but there’s not much going for him besides that and his snarky attitude (which i think is alright tbh, but it’s not the human disaster hawkeye that i love). clint dealing with pietro’s death would’ve been the perfect opportunity to explore his character! give me the clint who wakes up in the middle of the night because he was dreaming of pietro’s death. give me the clint who cares so much about wanda and who’s so protective of her because he doesn’t want to loose her like he lost pietro. give me the clint who can’t look wanda in the eye because all he sees is her brother’s dead body. give me the clint who actually cares about pietro and who wants to avenge his death and who is angry at tony for creating the monster that killed him. give me clint who’s so much more than “the guy with the bow and arrow”

i’m just so mad that pietro basically disappeared from existence after aou. it would’ve been so great to see what effect his death had on the avengers, and it would’ve made civil war that much better as well.