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Guilt - Blog Posts
Psyche Weeping, Kinuko Y. Craft I Ophelia, Friedrich Wilhelm Theodor Heyser
Do you guys remember how kidnap fantasies were popular on wattpad because young girls and queer teens were both made to feel shame at the thought of their own sexualities, so the fantasy of being kidnapped totally against their will was a way for them to engage with a romantic or sexual fantasy without feeling morally in the wrong for doing so? Added bonus that the fantasy involved being whisked away from repressive environments like home or school, right?
Finding out that Bram Stoker was in a sexless marriage and that scholars believe that he very likely was closeted gay puts the entire book into perspective as to WHY it reads EXACTLY like a self insert wattpad Dracula kidnap fic:
“I TOTALLY love my wife and would never do anything that an upstanding Good Straight Working Man wouldn’t do but oh nooo, big strong man with broad back and strong enough arms to carry me back to bed like a princess trapped me and claimed me as his, completely against my will 👉👈 But he protects me against the bad evil sexual women (who I assure you, I am TOTALLY sexually attracted to, as any straight man with a choice would be) but trust me, I do NOT want ANY of this. What’s that? The Count is not capable of feeling love? Would be a shame if I had the special ability to change tha-”
Chuuya's backstory is so insane because like, any one event from 15-Stormbringer would be enough to constitute a lesser man's entire tragic backstory. Heck, that one scene from Dead Apple where you learn six of his friends died would be enough to be a tragic backstory. Grew up on the streets, forced to become the leader of a group of children who only saw you as a weapon, struggling with your own humanity, betrayal, five friends being brutally murdered because of you, even the detective who wanted to bring him out of the Mafia dying could be enough of a backstory, and I haven't even gotten to the torture yet. But Chuuya's just special like that.
Whump Prompt #595
Submitted by Anon - thanks!
There’s a huge misunderstanding and character B ends up hurting character A out of anger for something it turns out they didn’t actually do. B’s guilt when the truth is revealed is immeasurable.
The Way I'm Sure Mice Are Meant To Die
I'm not always sure what God's I worship
I'm not always sure of my own morals
I'm not always sure of my theories of the afterlife
But something I am sure of and always have been is my belief in mother earth
And my hatred of cruel glue traps
I know the mice are not meant to be here
If I were fast enough to catch them to release I would
But I know I am not
So if it must come to a trap I will use something that is fast
Because between a quick bullet to the brain execution or a long tortureous death of struggle and starvation
I think all of us would choose the first choice
Mind you this creature is dying for such a petty crime
Just trying to survive somewhere they don't even know they shouldn't be
When it's over I'll bury him
The mouse in my room that will soon be in a trap that I've set
And I'll feel bad for murdering something more innocent than my own kind
But I will feel better knowing he did not suffer
And that I return him to the earth from which he came
Become throwing a creature of earth
of flesh and bone once granted life
Into layers of plastic with the pollution bound for a graveyard of garbage
It feels so wrong
Even as a child I knew that
It goes against all nature and worse starves earth of her meal
It's take with no true give
I'll likely repeat this to deaf ears of family
When they find me digging a hole for a pest
If I had a choice I'd be buried with no coffin
But I know I don't
So all I can do is hope for the cheapest one
Made of the softest wood
Something easy to rot
I'd rather not keep mother earth waiting long for her meal
For now I'll give her back the small mouse that wandered away from her to my own den
And hope she sees his death not as unatural cruelty but as predator sharing prey
The way I'm sure mice are meant to die
i love characters angstily refusing to look at someone
when they’re ashamed or guilty or scared and they want to keep the peace for just a little longer. they know it’s going to go downhill soon so they’re holding onto the last little shred of calmness they have even if it’s fake
and then the character they’re worried about being mad gently grips their chin and says in a quiet voice “hey, can you look at me?” AAAAA then they hesitate. there’s no way that character isn’t mad at them, this is too good to be true. it just makes them refuse to look up more because they want this dream to last forever and ever
but after a few moments of holding back, they slowly look up, tears in their eyes, to see that the character truly isn’t upset with them. if anything, the character visibly relaxes when they finally make eye contact, confirming to the character that, maybe they’re not okay right now, but they will be eventually
bonus points if they’re injured somehow, esp on their face, and the person that’s holding them drags a finger near the wound in concern, examining it and making sure it’s not worse than it looks 😍😍😍
It's so hard to not feel guilty about being upset at the people who mistreated you. Especially parents.
"But she gave me soup and stuff when I was sick. She even cried when I told her I was having dark thoughts."
Yes but she also basically told me to end myself, showed clear favoritism, frequently used corporal punishment, and a whole laundry list of other things.
It's so hard because she hasn't done too many harmful things as of recent. I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop and it almost feels like I'm being overly dramatic about it now. It almost feels like maybe it was all in my head in the first place.
Then I remember that I was so desperate to get away when I was younger. Desperate enough to think about taking drastic measures. Desperate enough to dream about someone just taking me away from my family.
And then I feel guilty again five minutes later
People keep telling me my job is supposedly easy, but it's not to me. It's so hard every damn day. and I feel guilty because I'm making more money than plenty of people who have it way worse, but I've gotten so depressed. I don't feel like it's worth it most of the time. I'm off 2 days a week, the building has air conditioning, and we get an hour for lunch, which is more than most people, but I'm still so upset all the time. And being so guilty about it is even worse.
knowing that every big milestone of my life is tainted by grief for everyone around me, and guilt on my end about the fact that there should’ve been two of us going through it together. I feel guilty for surviving, even though it’s not my fault, and it was a matter of circumstances. It’s weird knowing I’m grieving a half of me, a person I never got to meet and grow up with.
Getting over guilt
Image by Pexels from Pixabay. Enhancement by me in Luminar 4 and Paint Shop Pro 7. I’ve had a rough time with this one lately. Anyone else? I don’t know if it’s the “obsessive thoughts” part of obsessive-compulsive disorder or the fact that I’m still kind of a recovering Catholic, even though I’ve partly returned to that faith, but either way, I am just haunted by guilt. Maybe the word…
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I’m sorry
Dream bubbles, a creation of the Horrorterrors. A alternate form of afterlife, some might say. Vriska was sure there was more after death, especially after a bunch of ghosts haunted her for a short time. But for now she was here, in her memories. She dated a doomed timeline John for a short time, but it didn’t work out in the end. //Because I want the Alpha Timeline John? Am I even the Alpha Timeline Vriska anymore?// Vriska shook her head. No time for such ideas. She had to find her friends. //Why? Oh, right, I have nothing better to do these days.// She thought about how to reach another dream bubble. //Mindfang's journal... Yes!// In seconds the Spidertroll was in her hive and was fetching the legendary pirate's journal. //Maybe I can find you with this. That would make my day! ::::)// She turned to a random page and started to read it without looking twice. //It should work, right? I mean, these are Mindfang's memories. She may not be here with me but........// The words showed her the way and she followed them quickly. The words flew out of the book and transformed into a bridge that lead her to another dream bubble. She landed on Mindfang's ship. “Fantastic.“ Vriska had butterflies in her stomach. It looked exactly like it was described in Mindfang's Journal. A beautiful, big ship built for combat. Made to look harmless to trick the enemy. Vriska was impressed as she started searching the ship. Everything was as she had imagined it. //I should make a trip with this ship at some point.// She heard the sound of knitting from another room. //Mindfang and knitting?// Vriska opened the door with a wham and demanded: “Who dares to knit on this ship?” Vriska got a soft laugh as an answer. “I do, my dear, but don't worry, I have a license!” The Spidertroll saw a grown-up troll sitting on the ground, her back turned to her. Vriska skipped into a battle pose. “Don’t come near me, grown-up. I have killed nastier enemies than you.“ “I believe you, little pirate girl. But there is no need for death threats. Especially if dead came already too one like myself, or too you.” Vriska relaxed slightly. “And who are you? Do you know Mindfang?” “Yes, I know her personally.” “Really?”, asked Vriska, a little excited. “She is the coolest person in alternian history! It sure must have been special to know her.” “Yes our relationship was pretty “special” my dear.” Vriska walked around the Troll woman until she saw her face. “Hmmmmmmmm........ I don’t recognize you........ Where you one of Mindfangs pirates?” “No dear, I was one of her slaves.” Vriska stoped. She took a closer look at the woman. “The Dolorosa...” “Exactly my dear. The First Troll-Lusus of a Grub.“ Vriska lowered her eyes in disappointment and sighed. She read a passage about Mindfang and her brainwashing of the Dolorosa........ The brainwashing. Vriska suddenly felt uneasy. “And what is your name, if you are allowing me to ask this question my dear?” “Vriska Serket........”, came the mumbled answer. “And yours is........?” She noticed in that moment that she didn’t know the real name of that woman. Only her title. It stands to reason that the names of the Signless and his entourage were erased from history. At least, she didn’t know them or more about that subject matter. She didn’t care for the history of the Signless that much. “I like Dolorosa“, the women said and smiled warmly. “It sounds good. Let’s leave it at that for the moment, okay?” “Okay.” Awkward silence ensued. Vriska loved and admired her ancestor, the mighty pirate Marquise Spinneret Mindfang. But even she couldn’t defend certain things she did. “Was it bad?” “What exactly are you referring to my dear?” “Your........“ Vriska faltered. She never faltered, ever, before anyone, she was confident, strong, cool. “Your time with Mindfang.” “Oh, it was fantastic my dear. Slavery is a fantastic lifestyle, you should try it out some time.” “No thanks.” The Dolorosa chuckled. “Well, my dear you should give me a little bit of company. I love to make new acquaintances.” “You goooooooot to be kidding me!”, Vriska laughed. “I’m searching for people I know. No time to drink tea with old ladies.” “We could play Baccara instead.” “Do you know flarping?” “I... I didn’t often engage in modern sexual activities, if it that’s you are referring too.” Vriska blushed and said fiercely: “No, you are way too old........ And dead........ And you look more like a good moirail than a matesprit in my opinion. For me anyway, other trolls could think otherwise for themselves.” The old lady laughed again. “That was a joke my dear. But thanks for the compliment. Do you have no moirail?” “None.” Vriska thought about Kanaya. Her old friend, her moirail. “Our relationship was at a chasm before I died. I didn’t know why, and worse, I flushed red for her shortly before I died. I wish I had talked to her one last time.” The Dolorosa looked sympathetic. “That does sound awful my dear.” //Why the hell I’m so talkative before this stranger? I should go........ But where to?// Without another word Vriska put herself beside the Dolorosa. “I hope you don’t mind........” “Not at all.” //And now I’m polite. I should annoy her and call her names, not be so friendly. But on the other hand........ She is........ Oh, gog, don’t think about it. Speak about everything, but not about that...// “Ahem........ Anyhow how is your sex life?” In that second the Thief of Light decided to kill alternate John for showing her “The Room”. //Curse you Tommy Wiseau.// “To be honest, not much lately”, said the Dolorosa, deadpan. “Sorry, it's........ I saw that movie and........ It stuck in my head........ Please, I didn’t........ Sorry!” Vriska blushed more severe than before. She didn’t want to be caught dead by her friends while she was nice, apologetic and rather open to someone. “It’s okay my dear. You are funny.” “I’m not funny, in life I was the strongest and most badass Troll on Alternia!” “You don’t say”, the Dolorosa said, slightly intrigued, and smiled warmly. “I want to inquire about your life on my old home planet, if you have nothing against such a tale.” Vriska grinned. Somebody who actually WANTS to hear her tales. It has been a long time since somebody wanted to listen to her stories. The bubble began to change. Vriska's memories melded into the dream bubble of the Dolorosa. The Scorpio had to admit that a dream bubble was an excellent way to tell her story. “Your story is pretty good, for being a propagator of laaaaaaaame pacifism and love and being the mother of Jegus, but nobody's story is as good as mine,” Vriska said, smug and confident. She felt a little bit safer again. “It is often a matter of perspective my dear, and one story should be compared to others about the same thematic. My story sounds very different from yours in themes, succession of events and style, at least I surmise that fact.” “Yes, yes, yes, yes, you’re right. Gog, you are remind me of........” Vriska faltered. She didn’t want to think about her now. “Nevermind.” Vriska commenced to tell her story. The dream bubble changed accordingly and gave a 360° show with realistic sound and awesome special effects. She showed the Dolorosa her trials in her wriggler days and being chosen by the spider lusus. “This type of lusus is known for only eating trolls”, the Dolorosa remarked. “And their charge has to feed them.” “Yes........ Not a jolly job to be honest. I was pretty good at it.” “It is one of the most gruesome things troll society does”, the Dolorosa said frankly, no accusation in her voice. “You didn’t choose this lusus.” “No, I didn’t........”, Vriska said. “But it doesn’t free me from the debt and guilt for all the times I killed.” “Guilt is something”, the older Troll said. “A very good thing. It means there is still hope.”
Vriska continued to tell and show her the life she lived. She became friends with other trolls, crippled one, killed one and blinded another. Her tone was confident but at times a little shaky during that segment. //I........ It is like with John........ With her........ These are things only a moirail should know.// She talked also about her own mishaps. She boasted that everything that didn’t kill her made her stronger. The Dolorosa nodded and listened. “The Sgrub Game wasn’t really all that hard”, Vriska told. “I mean some of us where waaaaaaaay too strong for the majority of the enemies.
And with alchemizing you could build stuff that is ridiculously broken. Feferi accidentally built an atom bomb once using only bubble gum, a atom and rice crackers. Somehow. Sollux thought it was because the bubblegum was special or the crackers had pepper instead of salt.” “That game sounds pretty dangerous. Does it really destroy the world?” “Yes, but we found out about it after we started the game. Except Aradia, I think she knew what would happen.” Vriska proceeded to tell the Dolorosa about the final battle against the Black King, Bec Noir who stopped them from attaining the prize and what happened in the Veil. “It waaaaaaaas probably a little tense........ It was only a matter of time until a few of us blew a fuse........ Including me.” Vriska felt the sting of guilt again. The same guilt she endured as Aradia summoned all those ghosts to haunt her. Or on other occasions. //Argh! What is going on? I’m a Troll, only the strong survive and the weak perish. No reason to feel guilty, it is our way, our way........ Our way.// “The trolls are as violent as ever”, the Dolorosa concluded. “But in you, one of the most brutal and infamous of them, I see hope........ You are a confused young troll. Wanting to be the best but hindered by your feelings. You can still decide to change your way.“ Vriska stood up vigorously. “NO!”, the cerulean-blood shouted. “My way is the best and will always be the best!!!!!!!! It made me the strongest, made me the hardest, the most confident and the strongest of all Trolls! I only died because it was masterstroke of a brilliant young troll that can out-think everybody!!!!!!!!” “Oh........” The Dolorosa smiled. “Sounds like you like your Friend Terezi greatly.” “I DON’T NEED HER!”, screamed the Serket. “I’m the descendent of the powerful Marquise Spinneret Mindfang and I’m exactly like her!” Vriska thought that non-existent coldness suddenly struck and it became as cold as on an ice planet. She really didn’t want to say that. “Ahem........ I meant........ Ahem........” The gaze of the Dolorosa was unreadable for the long haired girl. “I........ I........” Vriska gathered all her confidence, conviction and strength. She wanted to scream that Mindfang was the best, that only a powerful warrior like the Summoner was capable of beating her, that she was a master of survival, the most feared Alternian pirate of all time, that the Dolorosa should have felt honoured that Mindfang made the jadeblood her Slave and Matesprit, that she........ She........ The Scene changed back to Mindfang's ship and they saw the Marquise and the Dolorosa in plain slave clothing approaching. The scene then changed to the desert, Tavros's Land of Sand and Zephyr. Neither of the two wanted to watch what would have followed. Vriska remembered the time she tried to mind control Tavros into kissing her. It felt creepy and wrong. She didn’t do it. But Mindfang did. “I can’t........ I can’t........ I can’t defend this.” “What is the subject you’re unable to defend?” Vriska dropped to her knees. “I never thought to say that but........ I’m sorry.” “For what exactly? For being a little loud during our mesmerizing conversation?” “No, you........ I’m sorry that my Ancestor........ That she........ That Mindfang........” “Yes....?” “I’m sorry that she brainwashed you and made you her matesprit against your will.” Silence for several seconds. The Dolorosa looked sympathetic and stroked Vriskas cheek. “It wasn’t your fault, my dear”, the Dolorosa said tenderly. “You’re not her.” The younger troll carefully pushed the Dolorosa's arm away. “I didn’t brainwash anybody to do........ You know what. But I’m a murderer. Mass murderer even. Eventually, I had no problem killing my friends. At first. The guilt crept slowly into me........ I........” Tears welled up in Vriska's eyes. “Come my dear.” “But........” Vriska looked away, ashamed. “Please, I don’t think I deserve........” The Dolorosa sighed, drew Vriska gently to her and embraced her. “Why........? I did so many terrible things........ All of them!” “Nobody is beyond redemption.” Vriska trembled. The waterfall broke. She began to cry. She cried like never before. She didn’t remember the last time she cried for somebody. It was something that would seem weak, but she did it anyway. It didn’t matter anymore, for the moment at least. “Why........ WHY?!”, Vriska cried out into the afterlife. “Why did I have to kill all those trolls?! To feed a useless fat spider? Why?! It was stupid and senseless!” “I think the idea of the dilemma was to make you independent, strong and ruthless”, the Dolorosa analyzed the situation. “Yeah, a monster that can kill everybody she meets with no sense of loyalty to anyone is SUUUUUUUUCH a great concept”, said Vriska between two intense sobs. “You’re not a monster.” Vriska weeped without an end in sight. “I hurt so many and I was hurt in return. Was I not properly punished enough?” Vriskas head sunk into the Dolorosa's lap, weeping relentlessly. The old women stroked Vriska's hair gently. “Shoosh...” “Stop it you’re not my........” Vriska began, furious, but then wept again. “Oh, Kanaya........ Where are you? Please, Fussyfangs who are you?” The Dolorosa stroked Vriska's Hair gently and papped her back. The 8-obsessed Troll looked up. “Well........ You’re a good enough substitute I suppose.” “There, there....” Vriska calmed down a little. This woman worked miracles on her, the young, dead troll thought. And she reminded her of Kanaya........ Vriska wept again. “Shoosh...” “Stop that! You are reminding me of........ Please no. It feels terrible. I miss her.” Vriska hissed. Impotent fury filled her mind. “FUCK! I want to see them again! Tavros, Terezi, Kanaya, John........ Anyone. Even Eridan. ARGH!” “It seems unfortunate that I’m like a person you care for.”
“No, no, its okay”, Vriska said fast in fear of chasing that ridiculously nice person away. “All right.” The Dolorosa used the next few minutes to pap the young troll. Vriska controlled her breathing as much as possible and tried to fight back the tears. “I didn’t ask for this.” “I know.” “But you had a choice”, Vriska said. “Why throw everything away for a little grub nobody wanted?” “Compassion and the love that exits only between most Lusii and their charges.” “MOST is right”, mumbled Vriska. “Mine could only scream for more food. Food, food, food. And the only thing she could eat was Trolls. And what kind of Troll would let her Lusus die?” “Not a good one.” “Yes........ I fed her........ The killing became so easy with time, and part of my everyday life. The weak perished. Burgundy, yellow, teal, purple, violet, nobody was safe. The color didn’t matter to me.” “Not a big fan of the Hemospectrum I augur?” “Strength has nothing to do with your blood color. I watched purple highbloods begging for their lives and burgundys fighting with everything they had, better than some violet seadwellers.” Vriska stopped weeping and felt relaxed. “What was the point of my existence? So much killing........ What I have done so far is not enough to make look it was worth it. That cannot be the end.” “You still exist,” the Dolorosa reminded her. “Your story is not over. Trust me, the opportunity may come.” Vriska hoped for it. A chance for redemption. “I’m so sorry........ I feel so guilty........ But I couldn't talk to anybody about this, with two exceptions.” “You’re welcome.” Vriska drew her legs and the rest of her body onto the Dolorosa's lap and curled up like a kitten on the legs of the jadeblood.
For a moment, she wished she knew how to imitate a purr like Nepeta. She tried it nonetheless. “It sounds you are trying to imitate a meowbeast my dear.” “Uhm........ a good friend of mine does it often........” “Sounds like a pretty special person.” “Yes........ somebody who knows how to make friends........ and keep them.” “You should ask her how she does that if the opportunity should presents itself.” “Yeah........ I miss that shipping cat.” “Sounds very familiar to my ears”, the Dolorosa said. “Did you see her?” “No, sorry. I meant somebody else.” “Bluh, bluh, whatever.”
The Dolorosa wiped the tears from Vriska's face carefully. “Are you feeling better than before, little spider troll?” “Not if you call me that again.” “Why not? It sounds mignon.” “I’m not cute, I’m evil.” “Evil can be very cute.” “That is total nonsense.” A innocent grin came across the face of the older troll and she started to tickle the younger troll. “Oh, stop that. I‘m not tickl........ Hehehehehehehehe!” Vriska's laughter spluttered, uncontrolled, from her mouth. “Stop that!” “Nope, that is too much fun.” Vriska didn’t know what to do. She could easily free herself from this predicament. But on the other hand she liked it. Kanaya tickled her at least one time as far the cerulean-blooded troll could remember. It was more fun than Vriska would ever admit to herself or to Kanaya. After a while the Dolorosa stopped. “That was pretty sneaky, tickling somebody out of the blue.” “The Signless loved it. He sounded like a little wingbeast every time I tickled him.” //I bet nobody wrote THAT down.// “Did you also tickle the Disciple and the the Ψiioniic?” “Yes. It was more fun with the Disciple though. She was always the liveliest and happiest of us.” “I’m sorry that it ended for your little family the way it did.” “It was so many sweeps ago; I had enough time to process it. And in death we are all together.” “Good to hear........” Vriska felt sleepy. Very sleepy all of a sudden. She felt weary, her eyelids heavy. “I don’t feel so good........” “You are probably tired my dear.” “I’m dead”, said Vriska, eyes rolling. “I don’t need sleep anymore.” “The body and the mind both need sleep. You lost your body, but your mind still needs sleep.” Vriska knew that. She did sleep in the dream bubbles but she thought that this part belonged to her memories not an actual need for rest. “Sleep, little troll”, the Dolorosa said and stroked Vriska's back. “I’m sorry........ I am so sorry........ For everything........ I hate myself........” “Shoosh. I believe you. You can still redeem yourself. You can. You only have to want it.” “I will get redemption........ All the redemption........ All of it.” “You will, my dear, you will.” Vriska closed her eyes, snuggled herself closer to the body of the Dolorosa and drifted into a long sleep. The Dolorosa smiled upon the little troll. She looked into the sky. Night struck the heaven as Vriska started to sleep and she saw the starry sky. “You can imagine really beautiful nights.”
Notes:
Well, that is my idea how Vriska could be in a certain situation. I wanted to make her wish for redemption a little bit clearer by giving her somebody she could rather trust. And every time the B2 Trolls meet a Ancestor, it was THEIR Ancestor. I wanted to change that a little. And I think those two fit together.
Thanks to SilckenSoul and Shaula from the MSPA Forums for proof-reading.
Hope you all enjoyed it.
My mom sent me a pair of dangly earings for my birthday. I hate wearing dangle earings with a passion, but she didn't know that bc we aren't very close. I decided to re-gift them to my father's girlfriend for her birthday, but now I feel kinda bad for not keeping them. Did I do the wrong thing?
(on depression and chronic pain, and those without it.)
Ignorance is Bliss
I had never truly understood the saying
“Ignorance is Bliss,”
The thought of not knowing is terrifying
But then I let someone in, and saw it there;
“Ignorance is Bliss.”
She has lived a life in Difference.
I wonder often if I would like to be
“Ignorance is Bliss,”
For to love without its opposite has become my day-star wish.
So now I see her in her Difference,
“Ignorance is Bliss”
And evny how she must live in her bones,
For in my bones lives a thing unblessed with
“Ignorance is Bliss.”
It knaws happily at the displacement in my gut.
Now spilling these guts from your mouth makes her wish for
“Ignorance is Bliss.”
But the wish manifests as disgusted pity.
How could i ever make the world love me?
“Ignorance is Bliss.”
When it is shrouded in all of this?
And you wish to understand the saying;
“Ignorance is Bliss.”
i wrote this about a friend who would only ever feel sympathy not empathy and the effort of the explanation exhausted me. Her ignorance is blissful as she has never woke up tired in a physical and mental way, bone deep aches that have to be left unrelieved.
please never offer condolences, sweet nothings
so now i ask you to think, what do you feel, sympathy or empathy? sure you may feel more, but of the two? can you feel the anger, the sence of injustice lingering between the words? can you hear that i am desperate?
I think there's horror media that's really similar to this, where the character is 'guilty' of something but from an external perspective it was not really bad. In the story, it makes their situation feel more inevitable and helpless
I think a fun revivalist genre would be like, overbearingly didact medieval morality plays but with absolutely incomprehensible morals. like here's a heavy-handed fable about how if you use the past tense too many times while talking to your nieces, all of your milk will spoil
Not that anybody asked, but I think it's important to understand how shame and guilt actually work before you try to use it for good.
It's a necessary emotion. There are reasons we have it. It makes everything so. much. worse. when you use it wrong.
Shame and guilt are DE-motivators. They are meant to stop behavior, not promote it. You cannot, ever, in any meaningful way, guilt someone into doing good. You can only shame them into not doing bad.
Let's say you're a parent and your kid is having issues.
Swearing in class? Shame could work. You want them to stop it. Keep it in proportion*, and it might help. *(KEEP IT IN PROPORTION!!!)
Not doing their homework? NO! STOP! NO NOT DO THAT! EVER! EVER! EVER! You want them to start to do their homework. Shaming them will have to opposite effect! You have demotivated them! They will double down on NOT doing it. Not because they are being oppositional, but because that's what shame does!
You can't guilt people into building better habits, being more successful, or getting more involved. That requires encouragement. You need to motivate for that stuff!
If you want it in a simple phrase:
You can shame someone out of being a bad person, but you can't shame them into being a good person.
For you it was love and war
Planted cluster bombs
Between my ribs
Turned passion into crime
Came back to the scene
On your guilt trips
With your favorite knife
3 stabs into your heart
And 3 into mine
In your spider webs of lies
I hung on for dear life
And you set it on fire
I'm torn between trust and mistrust
And the thought of my betrayal of you
Fills me with guilt, shame and disgust.
I'm so sorry that I hurt you bad and
I wish I wouldn't have done that to you
So I tear my heart apart in deep regret.