#self punishment

[whump-place]

Whumper used to punish them for the smallest mistakes, and Whumpee bet that most of the punishments were made up as an excuse just to hurt them.

So when Whumpee is rescued, they are sure that they'll mess up and that Caretaker will punish them too, or even give them back to Whumper, and the only option available for them is apologize for everything.

If Caretaker as much as frowns a bit, Whumpee is already kneeling on the ground.

Everything starts to get worse when Caretaker explains them that that's not necessary; that's when Whumpee understands that apologize isn't enough.

How far is Whumpee willing to punish themselves to please Caretaker? And when will Caretaker realize that something is wrong with Whumpee?

#whump prompt #whump tropes #whumpee #whump writing #caretaker #unintentionally bad caretaker #self punishment

[echoingalaxies]

Content: self-punishment/injury, conditioned whumpee, trauma

Whumpee got up before dawn to prepare breakfast. For so long now, it had been their routine, something they'd gotten used to doing no matter their condition, no matter the amount of pain or exhaustion weighing them down. Coffee with two sugars, and three fried eggs, would have to be ready to be served precisely at 6, and Whumpee would carry them to Whumper's room where he would still be sleeping, wake him up, and stand there, head bowed, wait until he finished his meal and then take the dirty dishes to the sink.

The few times Whumpee had missed the 6 am mark, even by a couple of minutes, hadn't ended well. Whumpee ran their fingers over the scars they'd received for those mistakes, wide and raised under their shirt, as they waited for the food to cook. They kept glancing at the clock, anxiously, shivering at the thought of being late, but they also couldn't hurry too much because the punishment for undercooked eggs would be just as cruel.

At 5:58, Whumpee had everything set up, and taking the plate and the large mug of coffee in their hands, they started to head toward the stairs, moving slowly for their aching body. Whumpee had become really good at counting in their head, so they knew they were right on time, as they balanced the mug on the plate for a second to knock on Whumper's door.

They pushed the door open, flicked on the lights - so much brighter than Whumpee remembered... He hadn't changed the lightbulb, so had Whumper had to do it himself? How come hadn't he told Whumpee to do it? - and went next to his bed.

"Your breakfast, sir," they said, trying to sound chipper but gentle, humble and happy to be there. "Good morning, sir," they added quickly after, almost having forgotten the proper way of greeting. What has wrong with them today?

Whumper, usually waking up to their voice and demanding to have the food immediately, just pulled the duvet to his chin, face deep buried into pillows. He grunted something inaudible, and Whumpee was left standing there, unsure what to do.

"S-sir? It's morning, sir, time to rise. Are you feeling ill?"

"Shut up," Whumper growled, and his voice was odd, but Whumpee pressed their lips together tightly, afraid to make a sound. "What the fuck are you doing, it's so damn early..."

The plate and the mug were shaking in Whumpee's hands as they began to breathe heavily, panicking. They'd been on time, but they'd made a mistake. They'd made some kind of mistake. Whumper was upset, and oh, when he'd wake up, hell was awaiting for them...

"Please," Whumpee whispered. "I- I'm so sorry. So sorry, sir..."

After a few mess-ups, Whumper had introduced Whumpee to an alternative option when it came to punishments of slipping off schedule or not completing their tasks just as Whumper had told them to. Quicker, easier, and for Whumper, even more fun than getting to carve marks on Whumpee's skin.

He'd love to watch Whumpee be humiliated.

"I don't want to waste my time on you when I have better things to do," Whumper had once said. "Make it simpler for the both of us. You know when you mess up. Why not get the consequenses out of the way? Use whatever's available, as long as you clean up the blood."

Whumper was still under the covers, perhaps falling back to sleep. Whumpee was still confused by the situation, but it seemed like he should've somehow known to not bother him this morning, oh no, they'd done gravely wrong, and there was only two ways out...

And they'd made their choice which route to take.

Whumpee set the plate on the nightstand, and closed their eyes, when with trembling hands, they took the mug of still steaming coffee above their head and spilled it all over themselves. Even as cried out in agony, they kept reminding themselves whatever Whumper would have done to them would've been worse, and with any luck, this would be enough.

Whumper was once again woken up by Whumpee's cries, and bolted up from the bed like he'd been electrocuted. Whumpee felt a sting in their heart. Of course they'd want to watch. Why would they miss the show? Maybe they'd be unsatisfied with their pain and make Whumpee throw themselves down the stairs for good measure.

Whumper cursed loudly and grabbed Whumpee's arm, pulling them out of the room and to the nearest bathroom. He shoved Whumpee under the shower and turned it on, turning the temperature cold. He squeezed Whumpee's arms, shaking them lightly.

"Oh god, Whumpee, why would you do that? What were you thinking?"

Whumpee coughed, the water getting into their mouth. They shivered, from cold and from fear.

Another mistake.

Nothing made sense.

Why was whumper helping him? What was all of this?

Whumpee tried to pry themselves away from Whumper's grip and out of the shower, but Whumper held them still.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry -"

"Wait," he said, sounding concerned rather than angry now. "Oh shit, Whumpee, no, stop that. Look at me. I'm not him."

Whumpee did as they were told and raised their gaze to meet the eyes they expected to be gray and cruel, and was shocked to see hazel, and nothing but kindness.

"I'm not him," he repeated, and Whumpee blinked a few times, letting their eyes take in the rest of the person's face. "Everything is okay. You're home, remember? Safe."

The person had dark circles under their eyes. They had a friendly face, although right now, they wore a worried expression. Whumpee wiped water from their face to see better... their eyes must've been lying to them...

"I..." Whumpee begun, stammering. "S-sorry... I should've let you sleep... I didn't know... I'm sorry..."

"Whumpee, shh." The person reached to turn off the shower and then let go of them to grab a large, thick towel they spread on Whumpee's shoulders. "Don't, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realise it was you. You shouldn't even be walking! I thought it was Teammate just annoying me, I was barely awake, I didn't mean to be harsh towards you."

Whumpee pulled the towel around them, turning their head to look around. They knew this bathroom. They'd been patched up here many times before, years earlier. It was Caretaker's.

They looked at the person in front of them. They knew them. It was coming to them slowly, but they knew them better than anyone.

"Caretaker?"

They smiled. "Yeah. It's me. It's okay. You've been home for a few days now, remember?"

"I... guess."

Caretaker helped Whumpee out of their wet clothes and let them shower privately, washing the coffee off their hair and ease the pain in the burns on their scalp, their face, their shoulders.

When whumpee was ready, they opened the door to let Caretaker in once again. Caretaker sat them down on a little stool and started to treat their injuries, talking in a calming matter throughout the process. Whumpee was still feeling lost, his brain struggling to understand what was real and what was not.

"I'm still so sorry, Whumpee," Caretaker said, spreading something soothing over his burns. "I never should've allowed things to go so far that you'd do this to yourself."

"I didn't want you to hurt me," Whumpee said quietly. Caretaker stilled for a second, then continued rubbing the lotion on Whumpee's skin. Whumpee bit their cheeks. Caretaker, and everybody else, didn't know much about what he'd been through with Whumper. They hadn't had many opportunities to talk that much yet.

"I would never do that." Caretaker leaned in and pressed an unexpected kiss on Whumpee's forehead. Whumpee blushed, though they were grateful it probably was hidden by their already reddened face. No one had done that for... Whumpee didn't even know how long. "No one will ever hurt you here. And you never have to hurt yourself, okay?"

Whumpee wished they could keep that promise. But who was to say what happened this morning wouldn't happen again?

"Yeah," they said. Caretaker's touch was gentle and comforting, and Whumpee remembered them as a trustworthy person.

Only it all wasn't up to Caretaker.

And it wasn't up to Whumpee. They didn't decide to forget they were not living in that nightmare anymore.

But if things were to be like this, would they ever truly get out?

#only quickly proofread #self punishment #implied torture #past torture #trauma #conditioned whumpee #aftermath #obedient whumpee #deconditioning #accidental bad caretaker? #whump #whump writing #caretaker x whumpee #protective caretaker #post rescue #caretaking #whump scenario #physical whump #writing #whump prompts #writing prompts #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #whumpblr #writeblr #whump fic

[bonedwoo]

#bloodborne #lady maria of the astral clocktower #saint adeline #eileen the crow #my oc #gore #self punishment

[serenityquest]

#dr glenn patrick doyle #exception #self punishment #perfectionist #perfectionism

[fuckingwhateverdude]

4.23.23

#dont rlly like this one but needed 2 write smthn #bad vibes theyre neverending #my writing #my writing tag #poetry #original poem #spilled ink #guilt #self punishment #self hatred #guilt complex

[ruinsofathen]

On sickness and self-suffering

1. Guilty, Georges Bataille  2. The unabridged journals of Sylvia Plath  3. quote from an article about Munchausen Syndrome  4. Orson Scott Card  5. Supernatural S7E1 and Sharp Objects 6. Henry and June, Anaïs Nin  7. The Garden of Eden, Ernest Hemingway  8. Juansen Dizon  9. Heather Havrilesky  10. Ana Teresa Barboza  11. Electra, Sophocles  12. The Caged Owl, Gregory Orr  13. Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel  14. Geloy Concepcion  15. The princess diarist, Carrie Fisher  16. Chelsea Hodson, from Tonight I'm Someone Else: Essays; The End of Longing  17. The Dream of a Ridiculous Man, Fyodor Dostoevsky 

#web weaving #compilations #words #art parallels #parallels #song parallels #sylvia plath #supernatural #fyodor dostoevsky #sickness #suffering #lonely #self punishment #poem #poetry #pain #longing #sharp objects #gillian flynn #you and your body: in sickness and in health #on grief

[tansu-bomb]

About Seo Yul & Self-Punishment

So I wondered why Seo Yul - the child progidy, the mature, reserved gentleman - would NOT get his seemingly worsening condition treated in over 3 years despite having access to Daeho’s best physicians.

This is likely a form of extreme self-punishment & a near-suicidal one at that.

By choosing to not take medication or tell anyone about his acute pain or get treatment, Seo Yul is punishing himself. It is his (very unhealthy) coping mechanism to reduce his feeling of guilt & regret — of leaving her alone in the mountains all those years ago, of not having done enough to save her when he met her again, of not having enough courage to defy family and go in search of her, of not being there for his best friends when they needed him the most.

Seo Yul fled/abandoned his friends coz he couldn’t cope with the pain, the tragedy of death, the fallout — and he likely sees this as his moral failure, his grave mistake, his shameful behavior (although what befell on Naksu/Uk ain’t his fault). Perhaps Seo Yul thought all these years that he deserves this pain. The blood worm is akin to his guilty conscience — both are eating him up from the inside. He really ought to learn how to forgive himself and hopefully realizing that she’s still alive, rekindling a friendship with her, and stepping up / coming through for all of his friends this time around may help and hopefully he avails medical attention in time (before JinMu realizes / uses the blood worm as yet another tool).

And then there is Jang Uk who is struggling to cope with intense, acute pain — numbing his senses with alcohol and indulging in a suicidal plans. Both men need counselors or alteast their personal devil/angel (Naksu) to deliver them from pain.

#self punishment #alchemy of souls #alchemy of souls s2 #alchemy of souls light and shadow #seo yul #jang uk #naksu

[4chambersofmystery]

Iness Rychlik - Self Punishment

#iness rychlik #self punishment #edit

[macrolit]

Emotionally, I wanted to stay. Intellectually, I wanted to leave. As always, I seemed to enjoy punishing myself.

Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963 Susan Sontag

#susan sontag #Reborn: Journals and Notebooks 1947-1963 #punishment #self punishment #emotionally #intellectually #inner struggle #quotes #quote

[thornzhaverozes]

Scarlet Letter

For me, it's always been about the scars.

Not the blood, or even the pain.

It was the feeling of cleanliness that the act of self-destruction helped me obtain.

The scars are proof that I am something besides the facade,

Of whom I masquerade to be.

My scars act as my own personal scarlet letter,

Proof that I am paying for all of my many obscenities.

As for the abject humiliation,

I won't flinch or bat an eye,

After all, I deserve the snubs and the condemnation,

Don't I?

-M.F.

#poetry #tw s3lf harm #tw sh related #tw shelf harm #tw self destructive behavior #spilled journal #original poetry #tw self loathing #tw self image #self punishment #poems about mental health #poetry about mental health #spilled poetry #shtumblr #original poets on tumblr #tw bullying #tw sh relapse

[pixiedoll2]

Tw/self hate ,bad self talk ,self neglect, self punishment/self harm behaviors

I loathe myself so much that even when I'm sick with a cold or something I refuse to take medicine for it or rest

I tell myself "It's just a cold ,it's not that bad "

" it's not bad enough to take medicine yet "

" you're overreacting, you don't have a bad fever or the flu ...stop being weak "

" you don't deserve to take medication ,you deserve to be miserable. "

I don't know why I do it ...why I put myself through such physical stress for no reason when I could just take some medicine and I won't feel bad anymore

It's like I punish myself for existing .. every chance I get .

I'll ignore and dismiss any type of discomfort or pain I have..no matter if it's emotional or physical.....

I feel like it might be a symptom of my trauma but I'm not sure tho .....I don't know what's the benefit of doing this is...I don't know what I'm looking for to happen by doing this .....but I do it every time I'm sick ...sometimes I do it when I have headaches or menstrual cramps too ......

Maybe I just believe I deserve to suffer somehow .....I don't know why tho maybe there's something wrong with me .

#tw self destruction #self h@rm #self neglect #self destructive behavior #trauma cw #tw vent #self punishment #tw selfhate #tw self h4rm

[casandraspoems]

Bloody Tally

A self harm poem

⚠️tw for implied self harm ⚠️

I’ve been counting

Every waisted moment

Every mistake

Every time I’ve hurt another

I’ve been recording

As lines of red

Then purple

Then white

And I’ve been trying to count less

Record less upon my body

As tallies tattooed in collagen

But it’s hard to stop keeping track

To let mistakes go

Because what if I forget

Forget to be kind

What if counting keeps me in line

Because my bloody tally

Is my proof that I’m devout to caring

#self harm poem #self h@rm #original poetry #spilled ink #self punishment #poetry #short poem #depression

[serenityquest]

#dr glenn doyle #accountability #self punishment

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

There were several times where the heat went out in the building post infection. When these instances happened, the daycare got absolutely freezing, but despite this moon still refused to use blankets or pillows while he was charging. He was so tempted to grab a couple of blankets as he was in the naptime room, which is covered in soft stuff that he could use to keep warm. But he got an overwhelming feeling of guilt and self hatred everytime he tried to reach for a blanket, because he doesn’t deserve to be warm. He shouldn’t grab a blanket meant for the lovely little children that come in the daycare. If he doesn’t deserve to be comfortable normally, it doesn’t change just because it’s cold. So he just curled up on the floor in the naptime room and shut himself down to charge like that. It always ended up with him waking up feeling very stiff as his suit struggled to maintain heat without any supplies to help.

#fnaf moon #moondrop #daycare attendant #fnaf security breach au #redemption au #post infection #self punishment #he’s being very hard on himself :(

[redstainedsocks]

Just a bad day

Contents: dissociated character, mentioned past torture, scar reveal!! self harm via freezing water, hurt/comfort and feels

Directly follows this

Archer hadn’t been able to sleep so the sun was barely even up before he got his things and began the trek into headquarters. He’d feel better once he saw Zach, probably still sleeping, but he could check and then head to the break room and try to nap until the others made their way to work.

Only Zach wasn’t in his bed. Or the break room. Or any of the offices. Which was around the time Archer got a little bit frantic, only just keeping himself from tearing through the building shouting at the top of his lungs. The on-duty security guard said no one had been in or out. Sasha, who’d spent the night on the pull out bed in the break room, hadn’t been disturbed and said Zach went to bed as usual. Archer ran his hands through his hair and took a breath. He had to be here. He started checking room by room, looking into every hiding spot. Under desks and behind walk in cupboard doors. As he neared the bathroom he heard the telltale sounds of water and breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a little stupid for not checking there first.

He walked in, after a few steadying breaths, and opened his mouth to let Zach know he was here.

The view he was faced with pulled him up short. Zach was naked, the curtain on the shower cubicle was open, and Zach’s skin was far too pale where he was curled up in the corner of the small space. 

“Zach, shit, hey, what— are you… good? What can I do?” 

Zach didn’t seem to hear him, just tucked his head closer to his knees. The room had that weird closeness in the air, like hot water had run for too long and clogged the place up with steam. But it wasn’t steaming now. Archer’s head filled with white noise, the static of not knowing what the fuck the protocol was when your best friend was nude, unresponsive—and, dammit—shivering under a spray of water.

“Can I come closer?”

Nothing.

“I’m going to come over there, right? Just me.”

Zach looked up, eyebrows knitted together. Archer took it as a sign of acknowledgment and strode across the room, shoes squeaking on the tile. He stuck a hand under the water and as he feared, it was ice cold.

“Shit,” he pulled his hand back with a hiss. “Time to get out now, buddy.”

A couple of twists of the knobs and the water turned off, Archer’s clothes got damp in the process but he barely felt it. Zach still didn’t move, he just sat there, shivering. His hair was plastered to his head and Archer was surprised his teeth weren’t chattering until he noticed how tightly Zach’s jaw was clenched. As lightly as he could Archer touched Zach’s shoulder and Zach’s skin was just as cold as he dreaded. Zach tilted his head and pressed forward and as Archer placed his hand more firmly Zach groaned and tumbled out in a scramble of ungraceful limbs until he was on hands and knees outside the shower.

Archer turned to follow and gasped, sickened by the sight of the raised, jagged scars across Zach’s back. He’d heard about them of course, known enough, but seeing it… they were such stark contrast to the skin that was leached of colour from the cold. Each scar was a chilling reminder of the team’s failure to get Zach out, of each moment of Zach’s torment. And the torment wasn’t even over, it had its hooks in deep turning Zach into a huddling, gasping wreck on the bathroom floor. Archer had to shake himself and lurched into motion, eyes still drawn to the scars. He was fairly sure Zach wouldn't want him to see them if he was fully present. It felt like another violation to look, to know, when Zach wasn’t aware of it. But it was the lesser of two evils. Zach had to be helped.

Archer grabbed two towels from the nearby pegs--not caring whose they were--and threw one over Zach’s shoulders. He knelt down beside Zach and pulled the two edges around until it covered Zach like a blanket. 

“Hey, you’re okay, we’ll get you warm. Right as rain in no time.” He spoke softly as he used the second towel to mop as much of the water as he could from Zach’s face and hair, gently pressing it down and scrubbing a little. Zach’s hands and arms were next and he lifted each in turn to wipe away the water, rubbing much needed warmth back into the stiff limbs as he went.

Zach moaned, dropped his head. “S-sorry.”

“No problem, not a problem at all. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

There was a slow shaking of Zach’s head and he lifted it slightly to look around, as though seeing where he was for the first time. His lip trembled, face almost crumpling until he sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t… I don’t…”

The towel was nearly soaked through and Archer didn’t really want to uncover Zach’s back and get caught staring at it again, not now that Zach might notice the reactions he couldn’t hide. He kept rubbing his own warmer hands up and down Zach’s arms. Zach tipped forward, rested his forehead on Archer’s shoulder as another round of shivers racked him. Tentatively Archer wrapped his arms around Zach, his hands hovered above the scarred expanse of skin until he swallowed his fear and pressed down. Zach didn’t flinch, and Archer didn’t know why he expected it. They were old scars, if anything Zach probably had less feeling there underneath the ruined scar tissue.

“Was bad, had bad thoughts. M’sorry, I didn't mean to. I… I… I had to.”

“You had to take a shower?”

“No. No, it's just the easiest way.”

“Easiest way to what?” Archer hugged Zach closer, trying to get the shaking to stop.

“To hurt,” Zach whispered. There was a pause. “That’s dumb. I know.”

Archer was at a loss for words, though his mouth had other ideas and blurted out, “Why do you want to hurt?”

“I don’t,” Zach snapped and then apologised again, folding in two until he was practically in Archer’s lap which was… wrong. 

Numbly, Archer kept petting Zach’s back, trying to solve two problems at once: get Zach warm; figure out what was going through his head. Which was more important? His fingers rubbed across the fibres of the towel and then further across the textured skin that knitted Zach’s back into the network of scars. He swallowed thickly. “Okay, so. Uhh, what made you think you needed to be hurt?”

Zach went noticeably still and pulled away until he was kneeling with his head bowed, one hand in his lap--and seemingly uncaring about his nakedness-- the other clutching the towel around his shoulders. “Did it wrong, s’all wrong. Just thoughts, memories I guess.”

“Is this something he did? Cold showers?” Archer asked as his brain tried to turn Zach’s words over into a picture he could make sense of.

“No? Maybe? I don’t… I don’t know? I think it was hot when I got in. Hot hurts, burns.”

“Right. Yeah.” Archer should’ve known how to handle this better, he’d had training at dealing with people in shock and on handling trauma. Somehow when it came to Zach, to someone he knew, every ounce of rational thought left his head. He wasn’t equipped to see someone he cared about hurting like this. “Right now we just need to get you warm, get you… back to baseline.”

Zach looked up at him quizzically, almost amused. “Physical dangers first, mental health second. I know, I had the same training you did.”

Archer tried to banter, rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Why didn’t you say so, I’ve been sitting here at a loss.”

Zach dropped his gaze as he shuddered again. “Don’t feel so good.”

“I don’t doubt it. Hang tight, I’m going to get what we need and I’ll be right back.”

“Your jeans are wet,” Zach said, sounding… lost.

Archer placed one hand on Zach’s head as he got to his feet, heart aching at the way Zach leaned into it--like the softness was a lifeline he didn’t want to lose. “It’s just a little water, it’ll come right out.”

He ran from the room, asked Sasha to make up some hot water bottles and get more blankets ready, giving her a quick retelling of what had happened, rushing through the explanation. He grabbed clean clothes for Zach, several more towels, and Sasha handed him a hairdryer as he careened past her. He thanked her, and she pulled him in for a quick hug before he rushed back to the bathroom.

He wasn’t prepared to see Zach exactly where he’d left him. On his knees, utterly still, looking so small. He got a flash of a smile as he pulled Zach up and got him towelled off and into the warm layers. But Zach’s eyes were distant and exhausted.

“I’ve got you,” Archer whispered as he steered Zach from the room. “It’s just a bad day, that’s all.”

It was just a little water, that much was true. But it felt bigger, like a stain that he didn’t know how to rub clean.

#hurt/comfort #from me?? who knew! #dissociation whump #past torture #scars #angst #zach and archer #team whump #self punishment

[megacross-ground-zero-rated-r]

MAJOR Trigger Warning for the following:

Suicide, depression, hopelessness, intense guilt and shame, self-hatred / self-pity / self-punishment, invasive thoughts, extreme black-and-white thinking, and some NSFT text.

Most of these things are taking big, complicated emotions and making them bigger, pushing them to the extreme. Sometimes these characters are direct stand-ins for a specific emotion / thought and sometimes they're more metaphorical.

Nick: Typically tells himself what he IS makes him sick and wrong verses Kellogg: Typically tells himself what he DOES makes him sick and wrong. Or what's been done to him.

Nick: He can become good enough to earn the right to exist versus Kellogg: Typically thinks he can't, but he's not gonna kill himself, so he may as well suffer OR No-one needs to earn it, they have it simply by virtue of being born.

Kellogg being jolted out of apathy by the first death and vomiting his guts out in the simulation, spilling a lifetime of rage and grief and wallowing in self-pity, so Sole can see it, understand it, and swear to never be like him. She feels similarly in some areas but the problem is still him: He made the wrong choice too many times. His emotions were just too big. Self-control was never truly an option. How could it be for someone who was hurt so badly?

All these things he's thought of as his death being someone else's silver lining: A no holds barred heart-to-heart and a cautionary tale for Sole. Advice and a secret companion and maybe some orgasms for Nick. A final rousing speech for Father to visit the surface before the illness takes him. A fun time on the surface for Synth Shaun. A night of passion with his Gen Three copy before one of them is put down at random, carrying the other's bitemark, scarring it over.

I usually write him as a doomed figure to riff on the lack of choices. Both him as a character and as an NPC driving the plot "know it has to be this way." He is "fated" to die when he's ambivalent about living, or be forced back to life when he wants to die, or shoved into a new place / time / body / state of being. He wished he'd stop existing, got exactly that, started fearing nothingness when he had to go back, but he had no other choice. He had to leave the Lounger eventually. He'd already let them kill him once. Suicide cannot be undone.

While hiding in Nick's mind he's torn between hating and loving death. He begs to be allowed to stay while he pours over the question: Did he truly want to die? Or did he just want a new life, a break from all this? He feels once he's answered it he'll be ready to take another plunge into the void. See where the fuck he ends up this time.

The fic These Telltale Parts can essentially be boiled all the way down to his free-roaming spirit trying to find something funny to say about death, and therefore, life, slowly coming to realize he does in fact regret suicide by cop. Nick also expresses regret for helping Sole, it was clear to him what was happening, but he can't take it back either. All that's left is the aftermath of the choices made then, the autopsy, the cleanup. The reason Kellogg goes insane this time is he NEEDS a reason why his grim reaper is late and convinces himself the Institute components need to be removed from his corpse so his soul may move to the next step in the process, whatever that may be.

((A big thing Nick’s torn between loving and hating is the idea of becoming human again. His Megacross iteration, at the very least, is extremely jealous of Conrad for popping into R///oger R///abbit's world as a regular old human instead of a humanoid T///oon.))

The narrative and Nick implicitly agreeing with the idea that Kellogg’s mere presence is disgusting and poisonous to others- Not like battery acid, but vinegar, still enough to sting and corrode. It's okay because he knows his place.

Unable to take a physical form, unable to affect the world around him, he exists as a collection of thoughts rather than a person. It's better this way: Obviously he ruins everything he touches. He can never make the right choice. Obviously anyone finding out Nick’s haboring Kellogg's ghost puts them both in danger. The Illness needs to be cut out, and if Nick disagees, says he has it under control- He's learned to live with it, same as many other drawbacks to his fraught mental state / Synthetic form- It's clear The Rot Has Spread Too Far.

Kellogg's argument for why he should be spared is look how small he's made himself to avoid inconveniencing Nick. He didn't even want Nick to find him. He knows he shouldn't still be here. He knows, he knows, he knows he should just disappear. He respects Nick as the master, he only wants the barest hints of his personality to stain Nick.

A little more selfish. A little more quick to anger, a little more honest when he shouldn't be. A little more "spontaneous"... By which he means lustful, indulgent. One of the first manifestations of Kellogg is sharper hunger pangs and a craving for sensations he used to love: The taste of a cigar. The kick of a high-caliber pistol rocking back into his palm. The snug fit of a leather jacket.

Nick doesn't think too much of these things and feeding them doesn't give Kellogg more power over him. Even if it did, Kellogg knows better than to disrupt the natural order. Nobody notices him indulging and puts it together the merc's instincts are bleeding into him. It's vital to remember that the cravings were already inside him, they just changed, got more frequent. ((Again the problem is Kellogg Specifically: It could be argued the text says those cravings are fine when they belong to Nick. Nick is the only one who's soothed and told his hungers are natural / good.))

Kellogg sees all the embarrassing, shameful ways in which Nick is Only Human. Those cravings. Anger. Jealousy. Loneliness. He holds no judgment. Seen too much to be shocked or disgusted.

He gently coaxes Nick to admit he wants more / weirder sex. He's fascinated by how Nick works and feels no shame for it, personally, his care and hesitation breeching the subject are for Nick’s sake. They agree Nick can't have a partner while Kellogg's here... The sooner they get comfortable with open, honest conversation, the less friction there'll be in their shared space. Often it stops at a little reminiscing on the past. Cracking a couple jokes.

Sometimes, when they're feeling especially nostalgic, Kellogg offers the still-fresh memories of a flesh-and-blood body, Nick hops in and takes a joyride through the highlight reel. Sometimes the fantasy they create together is all their own.

Kellogg is the soft, encouraging voice murmuring in his ear, c'mon, Nicki, show me the weird shit. Show me how you tick. He's fine with not feeling the same sparks: Working together is half the fun. He loves making Nick feel good. Relaxed. Safe. "I promise you're safe with me."

Again, Kellogg sees everything inside his head, but Nick is in control of what they do or don't engage with. What they feed. It cannot hurt them or take over them if they look it in the eye and speak it's name, acknowledging it, then moving on.

T///oon!Nick’s downfall is in hating his humanity for its needs and wants. Insisting that he is completely in control of himself, he has to be or Bad Things will happen. It's in refusing to believe that others can understand and sympathize, or getting angry because they relate too much. Enraged, even. Mob Boss Nick made the mistake of fixating on one thing that could Save Him and give him all the answers. Nick's version was killing Winter, Val's was single-handedly saving the entire Wasteland from itself, which then snowballed into other issues.

Kellogg often submits to Nick's point of view if they disagree. He doesn't want to seem too argumentative. In Megacross I decided to dramatize Kellogg's / Conrad's positive feelings and that submission to the point he loses himself. I ballooned the belief that Nick Is Always Right and Just, he is Always Bad, further and further until the only way Conrad thinks he can Be Good And Worthy is through the power of their love.

Since 98% of the time Kellogg is acting either to help Nick or in self defense, what if we flipped the dynamic- Nick not acting like himself like in Possessed!Nick stories- By making T///oon!Nick an active, persistent aggressor against Conrad? Again, we come back to black-and-white, extreme thought patterns: He cannot truly kill the parts of him that are needy, or horny, embarrassing, aching, bleeding, anything he wishes he could be Better Than. It's actively harmful to his well-being to try.

Both of them believe they're acting in self defense, and each is at least partially right, but Conrad snaps out of plotting murder FIRST. NICK is the one to continue taking it too far, his paranoia running wild. It's understandable to be a little freaked out by someone you don't know knowing that much about you. It makes sense he'd be concerned about associating with Conrad, or his public image in general. Same with recoiling from what, for all intents and purposes, looks like a stalker's love confession. But murder is not the appropriate response.

Conrad's struggle will be forming his own opinions, divorcing his perception of himself from Nick as much as possible. Avoiding spirals into hopelessness. No, he is not a lost cause. Yes, he's been hurt, badly, but he's not broken down to ground glass, doomed to be sealed in a jar and locked away forever or cutting into everything he touches.

Both of them need to be able to recognize when their pursuit of personal growth is in danger of going off the rails. Or if it's something else they want to *believe* is good for them. Are they actually thinking about a mistake all the time to avoid it in the future? Or is it self-flagration?

You gotta learn to truly live with being the problem and hurting others sometimes. You have a right to feel / vent but it cannot fall to the one you hurt to support you. Sometimes you really do drive yourself crazy. Everyone is not out to get you and wishing for your death / your reputation being ruined. It feels terrible to be afraid / ashamed of what's in your head for any reason. You have to exist as a full person who makes choices and takes up space / time / oxygen, not just thoughts, not just how you can serve someone else. Refusing to change anything about your life is a passive choice, but it's a choice nonetheless, even if you want to pretend it's a purely neutral non-action. You cannot saddle someone else with being your moral compass.

#suicide #depression #hopelessness #guilt #shame #self hatred #self pity #self punishment #invasive thoughts #black and white thinking #nsft text #angst #murder #paranoia #nick valentine #conrad kellogg #conrad cereal #long post #nick valentine x conrad kellogg