#do they know the amount of sh they triggered?

[plasma-studios]

the urge to get closure

(vent in tags)

[rip-headphones-users]

My Headcannons for how Infected and Kasper operate

Buckle up, this is a long post. Thinking about how characters function in relation to the world around them is basically a hobby of mine, so expect more. (I have others planned for both lampert and unpleasant at the very least)

(Not ship related) (angst heavy sorry)

Kasper’s infection is a brain-rooted/cognito-hazardous parasite

He got it after purposely ignoring a chainmail curse, both as a sort of “fuck around and find out” as well as an outright form of self-harm/self-sabotage.

The parasite is the one that primarily controls all the conscious actions of infected, while kasper now acts sub-consciously.

Its less of a split-mind situation and more of a Venom + Eddie or Gundam + Pilot situation they are two separate entities inhabiting the same body that can potentially act at the same time

It just so happens that the parasite from the chainmail curse has VERY similar desires/interests/motivations to Kasper, so the host/parasite relationship actually works very well.

Infected accidentally makes Kasper lose a decent chunk of weight after it takes over, due to it not being able to feel when Kasper is hungry and forgetting to let him eat

Kasper and Infected can be addressed separately (Lampert, UnpleasantGradient, Folly and maybe a few others know this) and Kasper tends to choose not to respond due to his own apathy, instead opting to let Infected take the lead.

Being able to respawn/no permadeath on the regretevator is the reason why Kasper opted to infect himself, as he saw it as the next closest thing to death/suicide.

Allowing infected to enter his mind has radically reduced Kasper’s lifespan. (He’d be lucky if he made it to his late 30’s)

His nose bleeds when Kasper and infected try to act at the same time

Infected is only transferrable via chainmail

Infected doesn’t feel any of the bodily necessities that kasper has, so its not uncommon for him to collapse of exhaustion, dehydration, hunger, ect. If someone doesn’t remind him.

Infected doesnt feel pain either

Kasper feels it though. A lot.

In fact the whole process of infected entering his mind was incredibly painful as is.

Infected isn’t the reason why things in the elevator/on his own body suddenly lose their texture, neither of them know why that happens now.

They personally aren’t physically effected by it and both find it cool, so neither are bothered.

It’s probably just the result of infected’s malware (thats only technically supposed to effect machines) managing to attach itself to a human. Or maybe Kasper could do that and never previously knew. Who knows. ;)

Kasper/infected can phase through objects that are textureless, including parts of his own body. Anything else will collide as it normally would, and take damage.

Infected will always talk with full leetspeak, (L13k D1$) while Kasper will only have one letter/number substitution (L1ke Th1s)

UG unintentionally named infected that. Basically just looked at Kasper, who had just let a parasite into his mind, and looked at the chainmail virus on his computer, and it went “huh… Bro’s Infected”

Bro is, in fact, infected.

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

She’ll be There

Sevika x Female Reader

Headcannons || Angst + Fluff

Cw: Mentions of self-harm (not fully described, I know it can be triggering), self sabotage, and mentions of binge eating disorder. Modern setting. Sevika has both arms (though it doesn’t have anything to do with the plot). Not a lot of in depth details, only because I didn’t want it to be uncomfortable or triggering.

Proofread || Note: It surprised me when I noticed there’s barely any recognition of binge eating disorder. And, so, I decided to write about it. Really sucks that a lot of people don’t even know that it exists. Also, no, I am NOT romanticizing sh and ed, this is just for readers who find comfort in these kinds of fanfics; ones who relate. (Also because I struggle with it.)

Sevika was one of those girlfriends who made you question if you really deserved her. One of those girlfriends that made you so happy that you were sure that all of it was all some sort of dream. She took care of you when you weren’t well. When you needed comfort and support. She was there regardless. You were a priority much greater than anything else, she loved you more than anything else.

But, there was always a sense of guilt that tugged at you whenever she showed affection. It was unfair to her that she had to do so much compared to other couples. It was like being a burden, a broken tool that wouldn’t fix. A tool that had to patched up daily, made sure it didn’t break itself again. You were sure she’d get tired.

But that day never came.

A healthy relationship with food was what you strived for. What you could only try your best for. Not even a few minutes after eating you were hungry again. Well, you weren’t actually hungry. Your stomach was half full and you weren’t needing more. It was just you being bored and eating being a way for you to comfort yourself. It was a coping mechanism that you’d picked up at a young age; and never noticed how horrible it was for you.

Sevika was aware of your problem, of the issues you had with food, and how it was difficult it was for you not to turn to food for distraction.

When you were upset, you’d grab yourself a plate of leftovers. When you were angry, you’d have a bowl of chips in your lap and munch on it. Even when you were happy, you’d make yourself some pasta. And, undoubtedly, your girlfriend was worried with the amount of food you’d eat in such a short amount of time.

Gradually, she decided to do something about it. Convincing you to tag along with her whenever she went out, making plans to go to your favourite bookstore, and even taking you shopping. She tried her hardest to distract you.

Sevika didn’t know much about your eating disorder, but she did her research. Reading books, searching online, and even asking you your struggle.

She’d ask you how you felt about the whole thing. What you thought. How you felt when you didn’t indulge in the urge and it felt after you ate. Your girlfriend had a lot of questions and you did your best at answering them. Some of them were ones you’d never thought of asking yourself, they had you thinking. And you appreciated her efforts in understanding.

Sevika would even cook your favourite food whenever you were genuinely hungry. She’d go on youtube and learn recipes for you, even make desserts so she knew you were full. Most of her attention would be on you, making sure your body was satisfied with your intake.

There was never a time where you felt that your girlfriend was tired of the extra care she gave you. In all honesty, that woman loved all of it. Doing small things for you, like making sure the proportions she prepared for you were perfect, like making sure your plate was full of the essentials; carbs, fibers, fats, all those good things.

And, at first, Sevika thought she’d made progress, made you better. But, on the day she found you in the bathroom with your wrists red was the day she assumed the worse. She thought, maybe, she’d made you feel a sort of way. Thought she’d made it worse. Thought she’d hurt your feelings and had pressured you.

She wrong about all those things.

Your girlfriend blamed herself for everything, as she tended to. You’d reassured her many times that it wasn’t her fault, that it was just the way you were born— also, false.

“Sev, I’m serious. It’s not your fault, it never was. You’re fixing something that can’t be fixed.” You’d say, sat next to her and watching as she only looked away. “Did I make you feel pressured? Or was it just me being obsessed with helping you? Be honest. I can take it.” Obsessed, huh?

“No. The things you’ve done for me are just.. too nice. You’ve helped me, Sevika, not made it worse.” She’d end up furrowing her brows. “So then, why’d you do that? Hurt yourself, I mean.” Her silver eyes would avoid your arms at an attempt to think positively. “I just.. it’s me. I’m a little frustrated at myself, it’s nothing.” Your girlfriend wouldn’t meet your eyes, let alone face you.

“Can you not?” Your tone a little less gentle. “You won’t even look at me.” Only because Sevika didn’t want to stare, make you feel uncomfortable. “All I’m asking is that you don’t look at me any differently. Please?”

It took time and patience for the woman to acknowledge your scars. She thought the subject was too tense, too awkward. But the first time she did, you ended up opening yourself to her. Letting her in on the small details she’d never thought you’d feel.

That was step one. Step two was helping you in other ways. Sevika would give you suggestions, instead of telling you what to do. Give you space and time to think by yourself. Give you advice and even be a source for you to talk about it with. All she wanted was for you to trust her, turn to her, and let her comfort you— instead of you having to look for that in other things.

Over time, Sevika had stopped avoiding confrontation; only when the topic wasn’t sensitive. She’d ask you if you felt any urges, if you’d even tried doing it again. And, slowly, you began saying no. It wasn’t a lie, no, you’d just stopped thinking about it.

And when she noticed that, your girlfriend felt a sense relief she’d never felt before. She was glad she could do something, even if it was just sharing her ideas and being your safe place.

Sevika loved you, she’d made that quite obvious in the way she stuck by your side. Never had she felt frustration, or annoyance towards you for being in the dark place you used to be in. All she felt was the need to keep you out of there, keep you in the light where you were happy and safe.

Your girlfriend would stay with you for hours if you needed her to. If you were crying she’d cry with you. If you needed her attention she’d give it to you at an instant. If you needed her to just hold you she’d do so. She’d open her arms for you, kiss away your pain, and talk away your problems.

All Sevika needed was for you to be alright.

A/N: Pleaseeee please pleaseee! let me know if something I wrote was incorrect or just insensitive, I really don’t want anyone to feel a type of way when they read this; being upset or angry. I tried my hardest to write how I, personally, feel because I know a lot of people might feel the same way— relate. Hopefully I didn’t do anything wrong :(

Please reach out to someone you know and trust if you are feeling stuck and are struggling with an eating disorder or self-harm. I promise you it’ll only get worse without help and support.

[wintersoldiersoul]

Hi.

Saw you are taking requests.

I got shingles the weekend close to my birthday, i confuse it with allergy because i am allergic to basically anything and then on my 24th birthday i got that it was actually shingles, doctor told me that my immune system went down and that is why i got it. Before that i was under so much stress because of work that i developed burn out and had to quit my job (literally spent months, weeks of my life visiting the emergency ward because i kept getting sick due to stress and burn out) probably that Triggered the shingles.

Could you write something with Bucky in which the reader suffers similar sh**? I just need comfort from my fave character 😭

If you dont feel comfortable is fine, i understand 😁

KUDOS!

I'm so sorry you went through that! I hope you are much better now. I tried to make this as medically accurate as possible (I texted my friend in med school LOL) but I am definitely not a doctor so if some stuff isn't accurate, just pretend it is.

You threw your hair up into a ponytail to get it out of your face. Hours slumped over at your desk weren't doing any favors. You grabbed the energy drink and chugged it to prevent your eyes from closing. You were almost done with this assignment. Just a little bit longer, you told yourself. 

Working full time and being a grad student was taking a toll on you. You spent every day from 9-5 in your office and every night from 6-10 in classes. You crammed homework in anywhere you could, which often meant staying up most of the night. It was approaching 4am, now. 

The office door creaked open and Bucky strolled in, sleep still filling his eyes. “Baby,” he sighed. “Come to bed.” He had woken up and the bed was cold without you beside him. He walked over to you, kissing your forehead.

“Can’t,” you mumbled without looking up from your computer.

“You gotta get some sleep, darlin’.”

You sneezed, still typing away. “I’m fi-” your words were interrupted by another sneeze.

Bucky stood, looking at you with a stern expression. “Well look at that. You’re getting sick.” 

You waved your hand. “No, I’m not. It’s just allergies,” you said, sniffling. “You know this time of year is bad.” The past few months, you had been sick on and off multiple times. A cold, a small fever, you were sick more than you weren’t. 

“Honey, please just get some sleep. You haven’t slept in days.” He was practically begging. He knew how much stress you were under and getting no sleep wasn’t going to help. He was extremely worried about you.

“Just give me 10 more minutes, okay?” You compromised.

“Fine. But I’m sitting right here and setting a timer. The second it goes off, I’m carrying you to bed.”

He did exactly that, throwing you over his shoulder when you didn’t get up immediately at the ring of his phone. Despite the intense amounts of caffeine you had consumed, you fell asleep the second your head hit the pillow.

Bucky woke up before you the next morning, smiling at your sleeping form. Your hair was sprawled over your face and he gently pushed it away to kiss your cheek. But as soon as he moved the strands, he noticed that your cheeks were flushed. He put the back of his flesh hand on your skin. Heat radiated off of your face before he even touched you. You were definitely sick.

He got up, being careful not to wake you. He left the bedroom returning a few minutes later with water, Advil, and a thermometer. You groaned as your alarm rang, sending shooting pains into your skull. You groaned, opening your eyes. You felt like absolute shit. Your whole body ached, your throat was on fire, and even your skin hurt.

“You’re sick.” Bucky stated, as if he was informing you.

“Yeah, I can tell,” you retorted, wincing at the pain in every cell of your body. He smiled softly, brushing your hair behind your ears. 

“I got you some water and Advil. Can I take your temperature, doll?”

You nodded and he put the thermometer under your tongue. He looked it, eyes widening. “Shit baby, that’s not good. Your temp is 102.8. How do you feel?”

“Horrible,” you pouted.

He sighed. “I’m not surprised. That’s a really high fever, baby. I think we should go to the doctor.”

You groaned, not wanting to move. You felt so horrible that the thought of having to get up and out of bed was a nightmare. You felt like you couldn’t stay awake, eyes closing no matter how hard you tried to keep them open. “Can’t move,” you whispered, coughing slightly. “My whole body hurts so much. Just wanna sleep.”

Bucky didn’t know what to do. In his mind, sickness meant calling a doctor. He had spent so many years worrying about Steve back in the 40s, sitting with him while he got looked at. He still wasn’t used to how things were today. The google search he did on his phone told him that if your fever went above 103, to take you to the hospital. In his opinion, you were close enough that he wanted to rush you there right now, but he could see how exhausted you were.

“Alright, rest for now. But if it gets worse we’re going to the hospital.” You didn’t even hear him as you had already fallen back to sleep.

You woke up in a daze, cold sweat clinging to your body. You were shivering aggressively, shaking the entire bed. “Babe?” Bucky said, noticing you were awake. “You cold?”

You nodded, teeth chattering. He quickly grabbed you another blanket, wrapping you up like a burrito. He wrapped his arms around you, hoping that his body heat would help, too. One of the major perks of dating a super soldier was that the chances of getting him sick were very slim. He held you as close as possible, trying to keep you warm. “Oh, honey,” he whispered, voice dripping with sympathy.

 “Can you take your temperature again for me?” He asked after your shivering had subsided a little bit. You put the thermometer back in your mouth, waiting for the beep. Bucky took it from you, heart stopping as he looked. “I know you don’t wanna move, but we gotta go to the ER. You’re at 103.6. That’s really really bad.”

You groaned. You felt so horrible, his words barely even registered in your mind. He picked you up and carried you to the car, whispering words of encouragement along the way. You closed your eyes again, finding it physically impossible to stay awake. Bucky held your hand the entire car ride before picking you up and carrying you into the ER. He let you sleep as you waited, positioning your head on his shoulder. He constantly watched you to make sure you were still breathing. He didn’t wanna wake you until he absolutely had to.

When you were finally called in, he shook you gently. “Can you walk?” He asked. You weakly nodded and he helped you to your feet letting you lean on his body as you went to the exam room.

The doctor hooked you up to an IV immediately to hydrate your sick body as they examined you.

“How have you been sleeping?” She asked you.

“Um, not great,” you answered, voice sounding raspy. “I’ve been under a lot of stress.”

“She hasn’t slept in a week,” Bucky interjected. “She’s been getting sick a lot these past few months since she started grad school.”

The doctor nodded. “Okay that’s very good to know.” She proceeded to ask you a few more questions and then said, “Did you have chicken-pox as a kid?”

You nodded. “Yeah. When I was 5.”

She carefully rolled up your shirt, revealing a rash on your side. “It looks like you have shingles. The stress you’ve been under seems to have weakened your immune system which is why you’ve been getting sick so much. It makes sense that with all of that the virus would come back now.”

Bucky held your hand. He was relieved that you had a diagnosis but of course he was terrified. Back in his time, that would have been a death sentence. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Buck,” you answered. 

“Yes,” the doctor agreed. “We’re gonna keep her here for at least tonight because your fever is so high. But you will be okay.”

Bucky exhaled. “Oh, thank god.”

“Can I go to sleep now?” You asked the doctor. You were so exhausted.

“Yes. I’ll let you rest,” she smiled before leaving the room.

“I’m so sorry you feel so shitty,” Bucky said, holding your hand. “Will this make you take it easy?”

“I don’t know what I can do to change anything,” you said with tear filled eyes. “Literally the only time I have to get things done is in the middle of the night.”

He looked into your eyes. He wanted to help you so badly that his heart ached. He wanted you to be happy and healthy. “What if you quit your job?” He suggested. “You only took this as a temporary thing anyway. I know you don’t wanna stay there when you’re done with school.”

“I can’t not have a job, Bucky,” you argued.

“Baby,” he looked in your eyes. “Do you have any clue how much the Avengers pay me?” He smirked. “Trust me, you don’t need a job.” You opened your mouth to argue, ready to tell him that you didn’t need his money. “I know you’re your own person and you can make your own money. And one day, with that brain, you will make so much all on your own. But baby, you’re drowning. You’ve been sick more days than not the past few months. Please, let me take care of you. Just for a bit. I’d never tell you what to do and if you really wanna stay, you can. But you’re killing yourself, darling. And I can’t just sit back and watch as it happens. Just think about it. Please.”

You lazily smiled. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But not right now. Right now, I need to sleep.”

He stroked your hair and kissed your forehead. “Go to sleep, my love. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

[mt-oe]

heeey

if that’s okay with you can i request a shot of modern!mizu x reader, where reader is struggling with sh?

if this is too much for you, i understand no pressure 🫶🏻

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Hey dear!

Sorry to hear that you've been struggling. I hope you're in a better place now, if not, I hope you're situation is slowly getting better. Dealing with self-harm is really difficult and healing takes so much time but I believe in you and I know you can do it <3

I know I won't be able to help much, but I hope my fic comforts you some how. I hope it comforts everyone feeling the same way. Hugs (with consent)!

Enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

trigger warning: self harm

warning: not proofread, mentions of self harm (cutting, bleeding, etc.), she/her for mizu

Nothing but the sound of the clock ticking filled the room as Mizu sat in front of you, crossing her arms and staring at you with her eyes narrowed. Beads of sweat formed at your temples, insides feeling jittery, and the urge to vomit forming in your throat.

It wasn't like you wanted to be this way. To feel this way.

And somehow, even her worry felt heavy to you. Like you had disappointed her the moment she caught you with the blade running down your skin. The way her body froze. The way her eyes widened ever so slightly. The way her breath audibly became shakier as she watched the red running down the skin she loves so much.

It felt so heavy.

It felt so fucking heavy.

"Why?" was all she could ask. Her voice sounded pained behind the stern front she always tried to put up. It wasn't like this was any easier for her, but she knew that it was more difficult for you.

It was definitely more difficult for you.

Your body remained unmoving at her question, staring at the fresh cuts on your skin that Mizu had bandaged. The memory of her freezing at the sight of white underneath the cuts you had made replayed over and over. Her voice repeating "You'll be fine, you'll be fine. I swear," as she held you tightly echoed in your brain. Even the amount of strength she had put in squeezing your forearm to reduce the bleeding was something you still felt. And it all felt so heavy. It felt so heavy to be comforted.

Her eyes narrowed at your lack of answer, desperation itching at her like a time bomb. "I said, why?" she repeated in a louder voice, making you flinch. You finally looked up at her, immediately regretting it as the gut-retching look of worry behind Mizu's blue eyes greeted you. "You wouldn't understand," you mumbled to her.

"You haven't even told me. How would I–"

"I know you won't."

"We won't know unless we try."

"No. I'll just be a bother."

"You won't. I promise."

"I really don't think you'll understa—"

"Then I'll try! I'll fucking try!" she said in a sudden firm voice, jaw clenching as she gritted her teeth. "Of course I won't get it but I'll try so just fucking tell me!"

Silence once again filled the room along with the sound of both your breaths, heavy and filled with tension. Her eyes glared at her trembling fists before her gaze slowly relaxed. Your clear reluctance to tell her made her feel utterly helpless.

It made her feel so pathetic, knowing that the love of her life was in despair and yet she couldn't do anything.

"Sorry...I didn't mean to," she apologized, rubbing her temples with her thumbs. In her mind, she knew she royally fucked up. Raising her voice at you was the last thing she wanted to do, yet here she was.

Mizu knew she might not get it. She knew she wasn't emotionally smart and she might not even be able to comfort you.

She was no Shakespeare, no Jane Austen, no whoever-the fuck-wrote-romance-novels to know which flower-y words or phrases to use. She was just a short-tempered adult who had a knack for solving things with her fists if it was getting nowhere. But she knew her fists wouldn't solve anything now.

The idea of losing you, the idea of not being able to understand you, killed her. And for that, she was willing to choke up any word, do anything that might comfort you even the slightest.

"Please," she breathed out, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. "Just...try. I want to know what's causing you so much pain." Her voice now soft, cracking ever so slightly.

Hesitance still filled you, the fear of becoming an even bigger burden than what you already fear you are still clutching your soul. But with how she softened up, how the tips of nose dusted pink from holding back the urge to tear up, and how her voice accidentally cracked an octave higher as she spoke, it was clear to you that Mizu truly did care.

Like a dam holding back a raging river, the words slipped out of your mouth until you were telling her everything.

Everything that burdened you.

Every emotion you felt.

Every little detail about how you were feeling.

Pouring them out like she was your only solace, her rough and calloused hands wiping your tears off as gently as she could. She held you tightly, pulling you closer to her chest until you could feel her heartbeat calming you like a lullaby.

Even when there were no more words left in your mouth, she continued to hold on to you. Her breathing was steady in contrast to your sniffling and shaky exhales. "Do you feel better?" she asked, glancing down at you.

Did you feel any better?

You didn't know.

"I'm sorry," you choked, eyebrows knitting together as another wave of tears threatened to fall from your eyes. "I'm bothering you, aren't I? I'm hurting you too. I'm making you worried."

Mizu sighed at your words and shook her head, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. "You could never bother me," she mumbled. Like handling the thinnest piece of porcelain, she held your hands in hers, planting a kiss against the flesh of your palms.

Her lips trailed down until they reached the gauze covering your wounds. A sigh escaped her lips yet again as she ran her lips over the rough yet fuzzy covering. "I know that you probably won't stop, but..." She looked up at you again, her blue eyes staring deeply into yours. "Please...consider talking to me about your problems first or...or...we can do something about this. Something that won't hurt you."

Fingers traced the medical tape securing the bandages in place as her eyes turned to look at the blood that seeped through. "I...I love you too much to lose you damn it," she croaked out, lowering her head and burying her face against your palms. "I'm scared of losing you, okay?"

Slowly, your hands caressed her cheeks, the warmth slowly warming the tips of your fingers. "I'll try," you mumbled, voice still shaky. "But I can't promise anything."

Tears finally escaped Mizu's deep blue eyes at your words. She gently kissed the tips of your fingers before moving up to your face, kissing your puffy eyelids and swollen lips, resting her forehead on yours. "That's good enough," she sighed out. "Just you trying..is good enough, okay?"

Her words brought you a sort of comfort that you had not felt in a long while. A form of comfort free from the sting of a blade, or a burn from an eraser, or jitters from vomiting. A sort of comfort that made you feel normal.

You felt light.

You felt the lightest that you've ever been.

"I'll try. I promise," you choked out, looking at her through your tears. A soft smile crept up to her lips, tears streaming down the side of her face as her cheeks lifted up ever so slightly. "And I'll be here. And I'll try for you too."

[v3nusxsky]

Hello love your writing :))

I wanted to ask if you could write a story either about Larissa or Lucifer, they need to punish their partner and they use „longterm“ denial over a whole weekend and reader is just yearning for release after the weekend and Larissa/Lucifer gets soft after the fulfilled punishment and give them the best orgasm ever :)) you can involve other punishment methods as well :) but some cute fluff and praise at the end would be great :) thank you 🔥🥰

Be my good doll 18+

*Authors note~ i choose Larissa purely bc I don’t feel I can write lucifer well but may I highly suggest my darling friend @littledollll who will be able to handle a luci version <3*

Trigger warnings~ long term orgasm denial, mommy kink daddy kink shifted cock oral very smutty smut

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

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For the past two days all you could think of was her. No one but you would’ve been brave enough to be a brat towards the headmistress of Nevermore, and that’s why you landed up being tied to the bed, a ruthless vibe working diligently between your legs as Larissa watched on. Her intense gaze at your leaking cunt truly should’ve made you feel embarrassed but it was having the opposite effect. Larissa would bring you right to the edge only to rip you away from it. If you wanted to act like a whore then you’d certainly be treated like one.

Larissa did this till your brain was nothing but a pile of mush, your whines of need being strictly ignored as your cunt clenched against thin air. “If you want to act like a whore doll then mommy will treat you like one” she all but purred at you, laughing slightly as a few stray tears fell from your eyes, “now now pretty dolls don’t cry, you brought this all on yourself. You’re not to touch or cum until mommy lets you, understood?” Truly her tone alone was leaving no room for any kind of arguments, you nodded and attempted to gain control over your emotions. You knew you could safe word, but this was a punishment and safe wording just to avoid it was wrong. Larissa untied you and cradled you in her lap, wrapping their arms tightly around you in comfort.

That was two days ago, you were feeling like you’d explode if you’re honest. Nothing you did would quell the burning pit of need within you. You need her to fuck you until your brain was nothing but mush. Larissa didn’t make things easy, every night she mad the habit of teasing you, making sure you thought your punishment was at the end before fucking herself right in front of you, fully on display with ample amount of sound, almost as if she was trying to get you to fail your punishment. You wouldn’t. You shouldn’t t. And you most definitely couldn’t.

Two whole days, you were near enough exploding with need, that’s when you came back into your shared chambers to find your lover in a new lacy set bought specifically for your eyes only. You tried to keep your gaze on her face, you couldn’t allow yourself to fail here. Looking like an angel from heaven she crooked her index finger seductively, her gaze anything innocent, a complete contrast to her Lacy white set. “Mommy?” You whined, your need more evident than you wanted it to be. “Oh my doll, you’ve taken your punishment so well darling. Mommy is so proud of you that she wanted to give you a special treat. Do you like it?” She purred gesturing to her hardly clothed body. “Yes mommy. Thank you” you choked out finally allowing your gaze to run all over her body.

You knew how this would go, Larissa would follow the same routine as any other punishment, it’s something that calmed you. You instantly kneeled next to the bed and looked at your lover, “I’m sorry mommy. I won’t be bratty again in that way. I’m only mommy’s girl I’d never stray” you whimper and you see the way her eyes darken at the last part. “Say it again doll” she teased and you instantly complied. “So you can be a good girl” she mused as if it was the first time, “get up here doll, you know what you need to do to show mommy just how sorry you are.”

After climbing up on the bed, watching Larissa shuffle back into the pillows you gave her a sweet kiss. As the kids deepened the need grew but you knew she had to cum first, to show how truly sorry you were. Larissa allowed you to take her set off piece by piece as you showered her with love and kisses. Only when you made your way down your body did she bring a hand to your hair and tug your head upwards, “mouth only my sweet doll” she warned before allowing you to continue.

When your breath hit her core she gasped, truly the two day punishment was driving her just a mad as you. When your tongue swiped at the wetness there you saw Larissa could’ve cried. You knew just how to please her. Her hands gripping the headboard and her bucking her hips against your face, practically fucking herself on your face, she was able to approach a very much needed climax. When you felt her legs tremble you knew she was close so you gripped onto her hips hard enough to bruise as you guided her movements and moaned around her sensitive clit. With a cry from the older woman you rewarded with a gush of cum from her pretty pussy as it spasmed around your tongue, you making sure to get every last drop.

She caught her breath before managing to move from your face, chuckling at you as your tongue darted around to get any remaining cum it could. “Look at the little cum slut. Are you needy precious girl?” She purred trailing her fingers lightly over your body. “Mommy need so bad” you mumbled trying to stop your voice from quivering as badly as your thighs were. You watched as Larissa surprised you by shifting her female anatomy to male. Truly, the sight was nothing short of magnificent. “Oh fuck mommy? Daddy? Oh fuck” you whined confused on what your girlfriend would prefer.

“Either baby, I don’t mind just pick one” she murmured answering your unasked question. “Daddy please” you whimpered eyeing her cock. “Are you sorry doll?” You whimpered watching her stroke her impressive length, “I’m sorry daddy, I won’t do it again” you pleaded and she could see the truth lingering in your eyes. “I know doll, you took your punishment well baby” she reassured you while lining her cock up with your leaking hole. “Doll, I’m going fuck you okay? It’s a little bigger than the toys because it’s more realistic. I don’t want to hurt you baby. You remember safe word?” She truly meant this. “Yes daddy. It’s red” you stated and she nodded before pushing her length into you slowly.

Tears prickled at your eyes, your inner walls stretching around her even though she stilled her hips allowing you to adjust. “Daddy” you whimpered as a few stray tears fell. “You’re doing so good for me doll, such a good girl for me” she kissed the tears away. Soon enough pain morphed into pleasure and you subconsciously your hips bucked upwards causing your girlfriend to chuckle, “such a needy girl for daddy aren’t you? “

When she started to move, you truly wondered if anything would feel as good as her inside of you. Actually her and not some plastic fake dick. “Oh god doll, so tight for me. Fuck so warm and wet doll, making daddy feel so good” she panted out her, the thrusting of her hips and moans tumbling from her lips stealing her breath. All you could do was whine and mewl at the sensations she provided as you came close to your peak embarrassingly quick. “Daddy please I can’t I need” you whimpered your train of thought jumping around manically. “I know doll let go” she murmured coming to kiss and such on your pulse point. You came with a scream of her name, your cunt squeezing her cock in its vice tight grip as your cum coated it and leaked slightly onto the sheets.

You thought she’d stop there, but she didn’t, she kept fucking you despite the whimpers of “no please daddy no sensitive” you were repeating. “Come on doll give daddy one more” she all but moaned out. And that’s what you did, you came again, squeezing her dick as she spurted cum up into your needy cunt causing an almost pornographic moan to tumble from your lips. And the sensation of peeing ? That was new. “Isa? What oh god did I pee?!” The panic rising through you. “No darling, you squirted love, it’s okay it’s perfectly natural and now I know you can do it I’m going to have so much fun with you” she murmured eyes seemingly transfixed on your sensitive core.

You flopped back against the bed and held an arm over your eyes, “god I’m so embarrassed!” You whined causing Larissa to chuckle at you, “it’s okay baby. Let me change the sheets and then me and my good girl can have a bath can’t we.” A quick kiss placed on your lips as she set about running a bath and changing the sheets, just letting you have your space to come back down to earth. That was one hell of a reward.

Word count~ 1598

[nevermoreconfessions]

can it be said red is a sensitive person now after that horrible display of immaturity and lack of personal accountability last night or would it still be considered hate and question whether 'i like the comic' ?

Trigger Warning. This post involves sensative topics.

Below is a detailed explanation from my perspective of the "Discord Situation," as someone who was actively witnessing it.

No, it's not hate. No, it's not a question on if you "like" the comic. It's criticism. It's valid. It's needed. Please do not misconstrued my rule. Thank you.

Okay, with that out if the way, let's talk about it, because there's a lot of people who don't really understand what happened. Let's break that down, first.

Note: I will not provide screenshots at this time. I don't want anybody to send hate in anybody's way. Please respect that.

I'll provide the facts first and my opinions later because there's a lot of misinterpretation on all sides.

In a separate Nevermore-based server, an 18/19 year old Nevermore Discord person sent NSFW content in an all-ages server. The Mods were informed about this via heavily censored screenshots that blocked the users of the victims and the NSFW content itself.

Upon hearing this, the Mods banned the accused. The accused appealed, saying that they "didn't know" that it was an all-ages server; the Mods relented and unbanned the Accused based upon the fact that the "evidence" was heavily censored, and to them, the accused seemed genuinely embarrassed and remorseful.

This all led to last night.

Last night, the Accused spoke up in West Common Room. In response, someone who was involved in the accusation made a public response, asking why a "known pedo" was unbanned. Thus, a lot of people who were unaware of the situation were suddenly made aware with a very limited amount of information: that a "pedophile" was in the server.

Red and the Mods step in, because holy shit.

Multiple people begin asking what's happening. Many get emotional. Many start throwing names and fighting. It was hectic.

Worse: evidence was thrown into the server that the Mods were not aware of. Again, the Mods were only handed heavily censored evidence, and when they spoke to the accused, there wasn't enough solid proof to made a move.

Okay. Things go severely south from here.

Red starts stressing out; it was a breakdown live on text. Multiple people are attacking her, the Mods, and other people stepping in. The words "bitch," "shut the fuck up," and others were tossed around.

Red says a lot of bad things that are inexcusable, as did plenty of other people. It was immature.

Eventually, the Mods get all of the evidence that people were throwing into the server, plus more behind the scenes. They were all on the consensus that the Accused did, actually, know the ages of the people in the server and still sent inappropriate content. They took measures and banned them.

Now, things calm down. Flynn handled things pretty well, based on what I saw her say. Granted, I logged off for a hot minute due to being overwhelmed. She handled it with grace, explained what was happening, and answered questions for full transparency.

Everything is now "settled" in the sense that things have calmed down, and people are back to talking about random things.

Okay. Time for my opinions, and these might be controversial.

First of all, this should've been done in private. It's such a triggering conversation that multiple people were uncomfortable with; there were attacks made on Red and Flynn, as well as others who tried to dispel the situation.

I've got some related trauma. I'm not going to talk about it. With that being said, it was all hard for me to read and witness.

Second, Red was wildly inappropriate with her response. She said awful things. So did multiple other people. Calling her a "pedophile defender" was... a lot. She was under the (incorrect) assumption that the Accused was, well, just really fucking stupid and made a terrible mistake. Thus, she lashed out.

She should not have said the things she said, but on the other hand, being called a "Pedophile Defender" would send me into a spiral, too. This isn't me defending her, by the way, I think she was terribly immature, like you said.

Red needs to apologize. I mean, really apologize; she needs to realize what she said was wrong, despite it being said in a blind fit of stress and anger. Emotions are not an excuse.

But, let's be honest here, a lot of the people calling out the Mods were minors who, also, were in a blind rage. They couldn't see that this wasn't the right way to go about it. That's fine; I hope this is a learning moment for them.

I think the most severe mistake here was tossing accusations and evidence in the server that the Mods were never given. If they had been given that before, this situation probably wouldn't have happened.

I am speaking as someone who watched this all go down. If there is something that I got wrong, or if someone would like to add on, please do. This is complicated and I'm just a girl on the internet.

EDIT:

I'd like to also say thank you to the people that spoke up. I know it was hard, but you knew it was wrong and you called it out. While I do wish it hadn't exploded in the way it did, I truly mean it: thank you. You're braver than you know.

[egberts]

i hope you take this as the genuine question it is and not someone trolling or trying to be obtuse. i think i just spent about an hour writing this! 😅 i am fat, i first learned about and “became a part of” so to speak the body positive/fat liberation community my senior year in high school (8 years ago now). i cannot stress enough how much this question is coming from a well meaning place i just am curious your thoughts on it.

(re:girl dinner)

when we talk about body positivity, it’s understood your health is not determined by your size, no one can look at you and determine how healthy you are. your health, as well as the amount of food you eat, also has no bearing on your moral character. eating a conventially unhealthy amount of food doesn’t give anyone the right to try and shame or silence you, no matter their personal feelings or discomfort for various reasons (“you’re glorifying an unhealthy lifestyle!!” etc).

these principles are not even a question, so why do they not apply to people eating smaller quantities of food? why is the knee jerk reaction to call out how unhealthy it is and how they’re glorifying an unhealthy lifestyle and encouraging others to do the same, especially when that’s what fat people have been accused of forever? it seems so, so disconnected from and counter productive to the entire point of liberation from societal body/diet standards.

if it’s purely concern for the possible encouraging or egging on of harmful eating behaviors, even that could be said to go both ways. i struggle with binge eating disorder and have horrendous troubles with impulse control. to the point that concepts like intuitive eating would leave somebody like me lying in pain on the floor after a triggered binge. i know i personally have to be careful with what i eat because trigger foods could end with me sick. yet how downright inappropriate would it be to make that the problem of someone just enjoying a larger meal? someone who goes about their diet in a different way and has different limits than me? or god forbid even just also struggling with binging!? i mean, underlying eating disorder or not, whether they eat that way frequently or not, none of these things really make it okay regardless to comment on how much someone’s eating or propose that showing the amount of food they eat is not okay.

something i personally have had struggles with in my journey of self acceptance and navigating life in a marginalized body is having to unpack the aspects, and what i believed to be values, of my body positivity that i clung to for reasons that weren’t truly in line with fat liberation. so much of my activism was just me serving my insecurities because i hadn’t truly worked through them yet. just remember to check in on yourself sometimes and really dig into the root of some of the values you hold and make sure they’re coming from a place that’s beneficial.

tldr; someone showing off their small meal is fundamentally and healthwise no different from someone showing off their large meal. neither is inherently bad nor good, it just is. so why do we show double standards(on an across the board principle)?

I cannot stress enough just how flawed your comparison of fat people existing to people promoting two almonds and some water as "girl" dinner is not the same thing. yes, fat people are ACCUSED of glorifying disordered eating, but they are not actually doing that. people who use the term "girl" dinner are actively linking the act of eating small amounts of food or no food at all with being a girl, that's the major takeaway from this discussion. this isn't about shaming big meals vs small meals, either. this is about calling out actually actively advocating for eating nothing for dinner and going to bed. nobody is looking at the thin people promoting girl dinner and calling them out for being unhealthily skinny, we're calling them out for promoting not eating, which is something your body needs to do to function or your brain will shrivel up and you'll die. "girl dinner" is a depression meal, it's food when you can't afford groceries, it's a snack between something more substantial. also, how can you actually come to me and think that defending the slippery slope into eating disorders is a logical thing to do? tiktok is full of teenagers, dude, somebody needs to tell them that it's not fucking healthy to eat a slice of cheese and nothing else for dinner. this also isn't about shaming people at home living their personal lives and eating what they can to get by, this is about people actively posting to thousands of young impressionable followers that it's cool and fun to eat nothing, and in some cases it's literally being used to justify weight loss and being skinny. I would legitimately be just as critical about this if it was fat people eating piles of donuts and calling it lard dinner. but ultimately none of this even matters to either of us, I'm not going on tiktok and telling the teenagers that they're learning dumb shit, I'm not going and personally calling out the women responsible for corrupting a harmless trend, I'm just here sitting on my couch giving my opinion on my blog, and while you might not be on your couch you are certainly here giving your opinion in my ask box, at the end of the day we are just two clowns honking around 🤡

[blood-orange-juice]

So.

Why I think Sandrone might be Mary-Ann Guillotin. Spoilers for Fontaine side quests.

*

Smoke and mirrors

As we have noticed in Liyue, Inazuma and Sumeru (and to an extent in Mondstadt) we do not normally *see* Harbingers until they appear for the final act, only the mechanisms they set in motion.

(Childe is an outlier and it's not like he's done anything productive yet)

Also most of Harbingers' lore so far has been dropped through things in the overworld (Signora's and Scaramouche's stories are in artifact sets, and Dottore's research notes are all over Sumeru). Somehow we have nothing on Arle's and Sandrone's backgrounds so far, which means we likely have something and we just don't know it yet.

Also Arlecchino is all over the plot, so I assume the important Harbinger in this chapter is Sandrone, everything else is an entertaining show to distract us. If she only appears in the final act, it would make sense if her exposition is done through lore tidbits scattered across the map.

*

Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Now another angle.

I'm almost sure that the contradictory verdict is caused by a certain someone's connection to the Primordial sea. (I'll eat my HoD artifact set if it's not. not like it's a good set but eh)

So whoever framed that certain someone needs to: 1. Know how the Oratrice works (either an engineering genius or they know an engineering genius) 2. Know about the Primordial sea and the Abyss (a gentle reminder that Vaucher knew about its properties through Jakob) 3. Have a motive

Idk, the combination of the first two *screams* Narcissenkreuz to me. I assume the motive is destabilizing Fontaine's energy system. It furthers Harbingers' goals and it would be too lucky a coincidence if it was someone else. So... A Narcissenkreuzer and a Harbinger. Noice.

We have Mary-Ann disappearing during that accident in Elynas without a trace. No body was found. Sus. We know Alain founded the Research Institute and worked on his own projects until death from old age. He could have transfered his consciousness into a robot. Also someone else could have.

(maybe the big robot is Alain then. as they say in Mondstadt, ehe)

(from Enigmatic Page XII, I can't guess who the author is)

*

Other characters' voicelines

Since Scaramouche's line about her says Sandrone is nowhere near an engineering genius and has produced a "copious amount of garbage", I assume it's not Alain. Mary-Ann it is then. She has her brother's old designs and theories but that's it.

Then there's Childe's voiceline about Sandrone:

When it was added I assumed it was about how clueless Childe can be about the consequences of his actions, but also what if he really didn't do anything (poor boy. everyone is so quick to suspect the worst about him).

We know that Mary-Ann and Alain had a big falling out with Rene and Jakob because of the Abyss research and what they did to Carter. If Sandrone is in fact Mary-Ann, it's possible that whatever Childe is just reminds her of Jakob. Or of Carter. Sorry Childe, your existence is just a trigger for the poor traumatised girl.

*

Summarising all that: guys, gals, fellow Romans and other forms of life, it's Sandrone. Everything in Fontaine is about Sandrone.

*

Things this theory doesn't account for unless you squint really hard.

- They don't look much alike but then a lot of years have passed and we have Herta from HSR and the way her appearance shifts slightly with each new puppet.

However, they also don't look that different.

- Why did Lyney need to investigate the Oratrice? If at least one Harbinger knows how it functions then what is left there to investigate? Maybe he was trying to tamper with it, of course. Or maybe they know the Gnosis is in there.

But then the Harbingers aren't exactly known for good communication between coworkers.

- If Mary-Ann is alive, why did she leave her brother behind? Why didn't she go back for Seymour?

I have no good answer for this, so this is likely proof that Sandrone is not Mary-Ann then.

(maybe she doesn't know Seymour is alive and he will recognize her sometime later in the story, of course)

- Who was the familiar voice Lyney heard near the Oratrice? It's not familiar enough to recognise but someone known to him. I doubt he knows Sandrone subordinates or met Sandrone herself. Or maybe he's lying and it's someone he recognises and wants to protect. Or maybe, as Cricket says in their post, that was a distraction too.

- Also there's Rene who happily dissolved into collective consciousness and no one heard of him after that. He could know any kind of things (including how the Oratrice works and what's happening with the primordial seawater) and it's a stretch of course, but any of the Harbingers (Arle included) could be working with him. Anyway, where's Rene?

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[plusvanity]

Vargelle question! How does Varg handle Pelle's self harm with cutting and also eating and health wise?

I wrote about this in my fic a lot, but I'm very happy to share the ideas I have here 🖤

Trigger warning for these subjects:

When it comes to sh, it's a very sad and overwhelming situation. Varg is well aware of how addicted Pelle is. He knows that by c*tting, Pelle releases stress, anger, tension, and frustration, so in one way, it's a tool through which Pelle numbs his negative feelings but it also allows him to 'feel something' in days in which apathy is inescapable. So, although it's a highly destructive coping mechanism, Varg cannot ask Pelle to just stop, at least not directly because relapse it's inevitable and if Pelle relapses (which he does a lot in the beginning), he would feel like he disappointed his lover.

So, Varg tries to find other ways to occupy Pelle's mind when he feels like hurting himself. They take long walks through the forest, talk about whatever trivia they bring up, or work on writing music together. Pelle would come up with lyrics to express how he feels, and Varg would come up with riffs. If the urge is too strong and Pelle feels like really giving in, Varg would just hold him in bed, caress his hair and kiss him gently until the day finally passes and they both fall asleep. He knows that love can heal and cure a broke heart, so he tries to show Pelle that he's not alone and he is deeply cared for.

When Pelle relapses, it's heartbreaking. Varg would help Pelle clean and bandage his wounds. If Pelle wants to talk about what happened, they talk. If not, Varg doesn't push. He knows that progress is not linear and it's not Pelle's fault if he slips off track. He doesn't want to put pressure on Pelle, so Pelle changes for him exclusively, like at Varg's order. That would only be like playing pretend he doesn't want that, he wants Pelle to get better for real. His main strategy is to give his lover enough reasons to see for himself that life can be worth living and being alive can be a joyful experience for both soulmates.

He encourages Pelle by being proud of him regarding his progress, and this really is something because Pelle's self-esteem is so low that he can barely believe Varg when he says 'You've came a long way'. But he does, and he finds motivation to keep getting better.

Pelle needs a potent distraction in hard times and Varg is always there to provide what Pelle needs. He has no choice but to learn to be patient and optimistic. He needs to be the anchor for both of them when Pelle can't care for himself. This is the only way out of misery.

Regarding Pelle's ED, this is just as tricky as the cutting problem. You see, all of these behaviours are highly addictive, compulsive, and obsessive. Nothing changes overnight, unfortunately, but in time, progress can be made.

Varg himself doesn't have the healthiest relationship with food, so on one hand, he kind of understands Pelle, but on the other, he's lost in what to do. He's lucky, though, because he's very observant and intuitive when it comes to the one he cares about.

When Pelle was at his worst, starving for days, there would be no way to make him eat anything. When somebody is severely emaciated and refuses food, you don't think about the best nutritive resources you can give them, you think about HOW you make them stay alive RIGHT NOW. Varg would brew tea for Pelle and add a lot of sugar or honey in it because glucose, although zero nutritive, gets absorbed into your body the quickest. It immediately gets into your bloodstream and boosts you with a terminal amount of energy you need to survive in the moment. (When you get hospitalized because of prolonged starvation, they won't give you food because most probably you won't even be able to take it in, so the first thing they do is to put you on glucose IV). Pelle would hate that tea, thinking that Varg just slipped too much sugar in it, but he would drink it because it's warm and it's not solid food, so it shouldn't be that bad. Right? This is not a long-term solution at all, but it's a start because it's going to take a lot of time and effort to help Pelle change his perceptions about himself and life.

Whenever Pelle has unbearable stomach aches because he really has to eat something, he would usually go to the kitchen when nobody sees him, to eat in a hurry his 'safe food' (cottage cheese or something soft to ingest in general) and leave. Varg knows how anxious and awkward Pelle feels if he's caught eating, so he makes sure to stay in his room reading or doing whatever to allow his lover to eat in peace. This way, he tries to make Pelle feel more comfortable around him, like he doesn't have to hide his chaotic eating habits.

In time, Pelle naturally becomes less reluctant about food. He doesn't get triggered by Varg eating in his proximity or things like that. If Varg offers him pizza, he refuses and Varg doesn't insist. But he will ask again and again the next time.

The thing about eating disorders is that it's a very isolating disorder. To eat is not only a basic need but a social thing also. One way for Varg to combat it is to help Pelle feel comfortable around food again. Sometimes Pelle accepts that pizza slice that is offered, sometimes not, but slowly he accepts to eat his 'safe food' around Varg. The most important thing is: do no stare, do not tell him how much to eat, do not make jokes about how rushed he eats (that's a common thing for ED people). Varg acts normally and minds his own business. He keeps Pelle engaged in conversations when they both eat so Pelle doesn't have to think about regretting eating. This way, Varg also tries to make Pelle associate food with conversations (the social element) like any other regular things in his life. Just like with c*tting, it is an agonizingly slow process, but it pays off.

I think I waffled enough, and I don't know who bothered to read this to the end, but thank you to whoever did .🖤

Another thing that they do when they feel highly stressed or in a bad mental place is making love. It's all about the energy and the frustration that needs to be consumed, so instead of burning down a church or sl*icing into one's arm, soft sex is a better option.

I would probably waffle even more, but I think it's enough. If you have any other specific questions about those two, or any other of my ships, feel free to ask. I always love talking about them!

[sco07ut]

lord this is driving me up the wall

the captain is not going to get sucked off after coming out (if he even does come out in season five)

genuinely just shh hsshhdsh sh sh. stop making posts fretting about it. he isn’t. that is literally the ghosts equivalent of the bury your gays trope and it’s borderline insulting to the writers to even suggest that they’d do that. these are the same mf people who were writing positive trans and queer rep in 2013 !! and then once again in 2015!!!!! (yk back when there was none of the cultural obligation and people were literally Still getting away with transphobic jokes in tv shows). like, read the articles from ben willbond, acknowledge the amount of care that was put into ensuring cap’s character wouldn’t just become a poor caricature of gay people, squinting at cbs. the writers are obviously educated enough on these things to know that they absolutely should Not go down that route

and that isn’t even Addressing the fact that it’s obviously not the only thing holding the captain back from ascending, and is also pulling away from the main theme of getting ‘sucked off’ is that the spontaneity of it is supposed to represent real life death, how it often doesn’t have a meaning or a trigger - that it just happens and there’s nothing we can do about it (yes mary did go through that whole bit where she disclosed her backstory but that was more so that her character would be fully fleshed out and her story arc would be finished before katy left the show)

[agatha-agere-all-along]

I politely request to bother you with a request. Where reader just got back their OCD diagnosis test results and spiral over them being positive and mama!agatha ends up having them regress in public with a paci and a baby bag?

YESSS (fun fact—Author here has OCD! I also have autism, so I might accidentally wrote that in ^^") I had fun writing this!!

Oh Cradle Darling - OCD.

Mama Agatha + OCD reader! (Also tw!! Minor mentioned sh and behaviour triggers in this, stay safe! :<)

You had... habits. You'd try shaking unwanted thoughts out of your head, literally. You carried wood on you, you'd knock on it every time you said something that you counted as a 'jinx', your mind plagued with the 'what if I don't what if I don't what if I don't?'s of the world. Afraid you'd think something into existence by thinking the "wrong" thing.

You had your rituals, you ate in a specific order, either two utensils or none. And you turned on and off your bedroom light twice, to even it out. It didn't seem like a problem, to you anyways. But Agatha saw your... more harmful habits, the way you'd obsess over what everyone thought, if you cut yourself by accident then you'd do it again to even it out. But then you'd have to do it on accident again and then on purpose again so it'd be even evened out.

Yeah, she coaxed you into seeing a psychologist.

Which, was a few days ago... you went in, told them things, mentioned to them how you didn't want to have OCD because it had three letters and not four or two. And today you got called back, and diagnosed with said disorder.

Oh.. sad face.

You walked back out to the car, getting into the drivers seat with Agatha next to you. "Mm, you sure don't seem pleased." She said, and you lightly bump your head againest the steering wheel, hiccuping. Which immediately turned on Agatha's Mama mode.

"Oh- shh... baby, Hun it's okay, shh..." She quickly wrapped her arms around her, you crying into her shoulder and she pets your hair. "You wanna go to the park with Mama? That make you feel better?"

you gave a sniffle and nod, and Mama spoke, "Okay baby, go get in your carseat—Or do you need Mama to buckle you up?" You were more than capable of doing it yourself, but you made grabby hands anyways. Right now, you needed to be babied.

So she strapped you into it, giving you your chewable key toys and a kiss on the head, and got onto the drivers seat herself, going to your local park.

There, Mama took your baby bag out first, before she went and got the stroller from the trunk. Moving you from one seat to another, she locked the cars (you pretended you did with your keys!) And started going towards the playground.

She walked by a little ice cream vendor, while the man was looking away, she smirked and with a flick of her wrist, used her purple to bring over an ice cream cone in your favour flavour, before handing it to you as you made a little happy squeal.

You ate it as she strolled, eventually finding. Bench near the playground to settle in. "That good, yeah?" She got some baby wipes out of the bag, wiping your messy face. She brought this on herself, giving you a less than clean treat, but obviously didn't mind too much.

After eating your ice cream, purposefully eating it in an even amount of kicks and nibbles—You ate your cone in mostly even bites, counting in your head... but that was hard when you were small, and you whine, showing it to Mama, "wost count..." You whimper, and she brushed back your hair. "Oh, I know baby. .. it's hard... you wanna break it in two?" You thought, you didn't exactly like the idea of not knowing how many bites you took exactly, but eating the rest in two parts was even enough... right?

So you did that, Mama kissing your forehead. "Good job, baby!" She even did tiny claps as she praised you. She hoisted you out of the stroller and sat you in her lap, you nuzzled her, and she brought out your favourite paci and pushed it to your lips, you happily took to it.

The sun had since begun to set, you two just contently sitting as Mama softly sung to you...

You weren't okay yet, but you'd manage, with Mama by your side.

(Note!! I rarely check my Tumblr daily anymore, but you're free to send in requests!!).

[anothd]

Tw. Vent post, talking about the war in Palestine, sa mentions, sh mentions

I got an ask about the situation in gaza and Palestine asking for donations. I'm already suspicious of all these asks, as some of these before turned out to be scam using the situation and I rather donate to well known and trusted charities and people than someone i don't even know is saying truth.

Also I'm broke 18 yo saving to move out to collage as fast as possible. Also current situation makes me unable to find work, so I'm living on very limited amount of money until I'll find it. And i need most of it to move out safely and don't end up homeless, which would probably result in dropping out.

Situation in Ukraine and news already made me scared and overwhelmed, especially cause our country shares border with Ukraine. I'm not gonna lie, I want to help, really. But I'm not able to do it and keep myself safe. I know it may be egoistic and all. But also answering i know I'll post it. And most my followers are fellow vent blogs, young mentally ill people. And i know it may trigger some or make them very uncomfortable.

Fuck it. I feel useless cause i can't do much. I can't donate to everyone in need, i cant fight I'm way to weak and coward. I don't want to rebloge posts with images of the war or anything which may trigger someone. Jirai community and vent blogs aren't maybe safe spaces, but i want to handle it as gently and safely as possible. And i know it will trigger someone, especially in my environment.

Hell it even sometimes trigger me, sometimes i cut myself cause of sa mentions in these posts and all. I know people should see it. It will help with getting help and reaction, but for some it may be way to much. Even tho i blocked these tags sometimes i see still info and news about it on other platforms, news, by friends or even still on tumblr. It was the whole fucking reason i couldn't stop cutting myself for two weeks straight. The strangest thing was when they used #matura2024 hastag on twitter. Its litteraly exam on the end of hs, why use it to send photos of dead children without even any warning? Many people who wrote mature still were mostly 17-19. Not really a good portion of group to help.

I don't really know what to do already. I really want to life in peaceful world without wars, suffering and evil but it's not possible. I can't stand thinking about suffering of others and whenever i try to cut this topic off it comes with double impact. I just don't want to get triggered or flashbacks from traumatic situations from my life. Neither I don't want to feel egoistic and useless for it all.

Medical aid for palestine

Anyway, if you can please donate for palestine and don't feel bad if you can't:

Palestine children relief fund

[violentlyexplosive]

not to be Vulnerable On Main, but I'm going through it and need to vent my thoughts into the internet aether where i can pretend the people reading it aren't real. um. trigger warning for sad animal stuff and some mentions of blood, sh, and sa.

pet loss is so weird. like. i keep waking up at 5 am, half asleep, like "ah yes, i have to get up and let the dog out now" but then there is no dog. i had never had her as my phone background until she died. i keep looking to the couch every time i walk into the living room and there is no dog there. i look behind myself when i move around the kitchen so i don't step on her but there is no dog behind my feet. i go on a walk every day at 8 pm because i cannot fathom a routine without her. every time i pass the neighbourhood kids i hold my breath, cus is this going to be the time they ask? am i going to have to explain to a gaggle of six year olds that the dog had to go away? where she went? am i going to have to be the one to say it because my father is older and softer now and will cry? do i get to cry?

I've never been close to my extended family, and it's always baffled me when others would talk about grieving their grandparents. somehow a part of me views it as, idk, a lesser grief? not in the sense that i don't believe you should grieve your family members, no matter how many degrees of separation between your bloodlines, but because it is simply not something i have or will ever experience as a product of my upbringing and culture. i already struggle with empathy on a good day, having been medicated since pre-puberty, and i just can't... understand this form of grief. i do not think less of it, i just can't find the shape of it.

and i feel sort of similar in this? like. this stupid fucking dog was in my life from 13 years old to nearly 21. she saw me through ugly, awkward haircuts and acne and my first bad period and watched me harm myself and come home traumatised with invisible hands tattooed onto my skin forever. we got her to help me with my debilitating social anxiety/agoraphobia and depression. she got me out of the house and forced me to talk to people to explain "oh I'm sorry, she barks at men, we think she was abused as a puppy" and laid in bed with me when i was too sick or pained to get out of it. and in return, i held her during thunderstorms and fireworks, wiped her mouth and ass when she threw up or pissed the bed. i slept on the couch with her when she couldn't make it up the stairs after surgery, then again years later when she got too old and sick. i hand fed her when she didn't have the energy, i spit water into her mouth when she couldn't get up to drink it herself, i kissed her little, golden head every time she gagged on the pills i had to force down her throat because no amount of ham or cheese or peanut butter could make her swallow them. she was clever like that, in the dumbest ways possible.

and it's so fucking weird without her. i never realised how much my routine revolved around her until she wasn't there to cry at me to feed her anymore. and i feel stupid for feeling so broken up over a dog of all things. like i said, a lesser grief. animals come and go, i know this. have known it since i lived in the countryside and saw my first dead deer, since i had to kill an injured bird for the first time. i knew she was going to go, and i knew it was going to happen soon. i knew the moment the vet called to say she had blood in her tummy because i hung up and screamed. i screamed. over a dog? over the one thing in life i knew how to love right.

i dont know. I'm ovulating, and it's been officially seven days since she said goodbye, tail wagging to the very fucking end. it's too quiet at home, and my mother (mentally unstable narcissist that she is) is already talking about wanting to get another dog. we have a 12kg bag of food and two pallets of canned stuff that came a couple days after she went, that im going to donate. i carried the 40kg ball of fluff and blood to the vet, 12 is nothing after that. i take solace in the fact that i believe in god not in the abrahamic way, but that god is the universe and everything within, and that energy cannot be created or destroyed, meaning she's still out there somewhere. maybe if i listen really hard I'll hear her again.

[granulesofsand]

🗝️🏷️ discussion of RAMCOA with nonphysical examples, sh/suicide

For every person I see opening up about RAMCOA, there’s another telling the world to never so much as glance in its direction. We are shit at tone sometimes, so not to be rude, but I do have reasons I dislike the silence.

Reading about tortured children should never be comfortable, and if you have no reason to suspect a similar history, you can filter away the nastiness. We will never be able to have that ignorance, even if our front-facing alters don’t remember.

If you do suspect a history or end up having one, congrats! Time to start deprogramming. Chances are if you went through this flavor of hell, the stability you have is a cover for your involvement, past or current. Either way, I’ve never seen someone survive without any side effects, and addressing the problem is the only way to actually solve it.

Omega (death/sh) programs can be activated by looking into trauma material. Any trauma material. And a good amount of other stuff, like trying to leave your area or not reporting back to an assigned group member. Our omega programs have been passively problematic for years, and our first active cases were around 4 years old. It’s a common program line, and some groups install functioning versions very young. We did not know about any kind of abuse at 4, despite being trafficked and regularly hurt our whole life. It was triggered by existing too close to a ritual site, and we had sh behaviors and runaway attempts for ‘knowing too much’.

We were taught by abusers that what they were doing was good and normal at the same time they were teaching us we were dirty for living it and nobody would believe us. Pretty much all of that category was just convincing us not to tell on them, with punishment for breaking cult rules. We’ve read about survivors taking the ‘Golden Rule’ as ‘Silence’, and we have a similar experience. Any breaking of the quiet without direct harm at their hands is another inch towards safety. If we can convince ourselves they really did lie about their omnipotence, we can shake some programs based in those beliefs.

We were told that our system/body specifically was bad and wrong, and that these things happened to us because we deserved it. We don’t hold the same standard for outsiders, and their stories make us think we might not have been predestined for the life we got.

Outsiders who have no trauma history, and sometimes those who do, can be pretty insensitive. We have been harassed for having been sexually assaulted, called names for telling/not telling parts of our story, and insulted in various unpleasant ways because we were forced to perpetrate. We still commonly get a reaction of disbelief, even after months of building trust and then giving only vague summaries. The more people hear about this form of maltreatment and its effects, the higher their tolerance will be when someone needs them to show up.

It makes us feel more secure in our own memories when other survivors have similar experiences. To know that it can actually be that bad, it isn’t the norm, and others have gotten out and started healing is more weight off our shoulders I knew we carried. I, and other alters, have shame pits that we can sink into quick. The pure validation of knowing it happened, the flex tape of understanding it wasn’t their fault, the basis for comparison we have never had in anyone but our abusers. It helps us, even if it also hurts.

Silence is what they wanted. ‘They’ being the pedophile rings, cults, and other organized groups that rely on programming children and anyone else they got their hands on for profit. I genuinely do believe more people fit into our community than currently admit, and the gray doesn’t become visible until you open your eyes to the damn black and white.

[angria]

Having an identity crisis at 11pm over possibly switching my major from clinical to macro social work 🫠

I already looked at my curriculum plan and my entire first year courses were all foundational and required for both majors. So I might only be one class behind? I just finished group therapy, which had macro majors in it. Currently in the one required macro class for both clinical and macro. So I need to decide soon because I would then have to change my Fall courses. Not sure how that would affect my current foundational placement, which is clinical….

Ughhhh. I just really don’t think I’m suited for individual, direct clinical work and I also think I misunderstood what macro level work is. My skill set seems like it would work better in a macro context on top of having a better handle on emotional boundaries for myself. Just really don’t think I’m going to be able to handle keeping my shit in check when working directly with individual clients in a therapeutic setting, regardless if it's actually individual counseling or not.

I know I will bring it home with me and it will trigger my own stuff that I barely have a handle on. This is the longest I’ve gone in over a decade of needing intensive treatment every 1-2 years. Last inpatient and partial was 2021. Which doesn't include the amount of times T brought up the hospital since then due to medication noncompliance, SH, and suicidality. Not to say people can't be professional clinical social workers with good boundaries while also actively working on their own shit. For me personally, I'm not sure I can do both and I would never want to jeopardize clients because of that.