#Implied self-harm

[kurithedweeb]

“You have to deal with it eventually.” Travis flipped the knife around and held it out to Laurance, hilt-first. “In my experience, it’s better to take the edge off than let it simmer up until it boils you alive.”

Laurance stared at the knife. He had a strange look on his face, one Travis couldn’t read. It was usually easier to read Laurance than most other people, he was usually a very expressive man, but this expression was a small one. One where all the nuance was bunched in the low angle of his brows and the slight part of his lips. 

His eyes were on the sharp edge of the blade, where it pressed against the bare skin of Travis’s forearm. He did not take the knife. There was a tremble in Laurance’s fingers as they dragged through the sand, closing into a fist.

Travis stabbed the knife into the sand between them. Sunlight bounced off the blade, painting each of their hands in slivers of shining color.

He looked back out over the water. He said, “For when you need it most.”

For a long time, neither of them said a word. Travis watched the water ebb and flow. It splashed against the sole of Laurance’s boot. Warlock Valkrum grinned up at Travis from his reflection, twisting away as the waves receded.

Laurance took the knife with him when he left.

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Seeing both of Vox's death dates side by side has given me an idea. He's obviously been very (self-)destructive during his time at V-Tower. Going with the assumption that sinners can temporarily die and regenerate/respawn after an unspecified amount of time, what if Vox has died that way before, potentially several times? The first time it happens, Val and Vel both panic. How is Vox going to react? Will he remember this? But then they might get a little more hopeful. What if this fixes him? He comes back, respawns, completely new and he's normal again? It takes some time for Vox to come back from his temp death but when he does, he's mostly coherent, seems a little off but tbh who wouldn't be after that? Vel and Val are so happy. They have their Vox back. And then over the course of the conversation, he slips again, back into the attention and memory issues, back into his delusions and the hope drains from the other Vees

Ahh, it's always fun crushing the Vees’ hopes. They'll cling onto any chance of getting Their Vox back, but it's just not going to happen. There's no changing what's been done, no going back to how things were before.

[miisakee]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gaila & Nyota Uhura, James T. Kirk & Nyota Uhura, Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Nyota Uhura, Gaila & James T. Kirk, Gaila & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & James T. Kirk & Nyota Uhura Characters: Nyota Uhura, Gaila (Star Trek: Alternate Original Series), Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk Additional Tags: Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Developing Friendships, Academy Era, Female Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Hot Chocolate, Tea, Pre-Canon, Autistic Nyota Uhura, Series: Part 3 of Whumptober 2024 Summary:

On a perfectly normal evening, with nothing obviously wrong, Nyota returns to her dorm-room to find Gaila locked in the bathroom - and refusing to come out or even answer. She calls for help from an unlikely place and some form of friendship starts to grow.

@ao3tagbingo

[l3o-lion]

Wip!

He's supposed to be holding a melting candle in his bare hand but that isn't super clear yet

[bloody-bee-tea]

Kaebedo Week 2023 Day 4 - Scars

“Can I take it off?”

The question makes Kaeya freeze. There’s no mistaking what Albedo means, not with the way his hand is cupping Kaeya’s cheek and his thumb grazing the edge of the eyepatch.

Albedo clearly takes up on Kaeya’s hesitation as well because he slightly tilts his head to the side.

“I know what’s underneath it. I know what and who you are. Surely there is no need to hide it any further. It’s just us here.”

“But someone could always come barging in now, couldn’t they?” Kaeya asks and tilts his head out of Albedo’s hand.

He sees how his fingers twitch at the loss of contact and while it does make Kaeya feel bad, he doesn’t feel like explaining what’s underneath the eyepatch.

It’s not just the eye that marks him for what he is; it’s also what Diluc left him with when they had their falling-out.

“Who do you expect to come up here? Klee?” Albedo asks and there’s a challenge in his voice.

“Jean could—”

“Jean knows better than to send someone for me if Mondstadt isn’t currently burning down. And she definitely knows better than to send someone for you here if Mondstadt isn’t burning down.”

Kaeya opens his mouth but he finds that he can’t even argue with Albedo on that one. He’s right, after all. And for once he did tell Jean that he would go visit Albedo, so the chances of someone barging in unannounced truly are slim.

“Kaeya, if you don’t want to take it off, that’s fine. Just say so. I can’t claim to understand, but I’m also not going to push you or do it against your will.”

That, Kaeya definitely knows. It’s the only reason he stayed still for so long with Albedo’s thumb so close to the scar he keeps hidden. If he wouldn’t trust Albedo, he would have moved away before his hand could have even made contact with his cheek. The intent Albedo had had been clear after all.

“I don’t want to,” Kaeya says promptly, and he can’t help the pouty tone of his voice. “And I don’t feel like explaining.”

“Then I’m not going to ask. It’s fine.” Albedo steps close and reaches for his hand, raising it to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. “I didn’t mean to spoil the mood,” he then adds with a small smirk and Kaeya huffs out a breath.

Albedo likes to claim that human interaction is hard for him, that the finer intricacies of conversation and interpersonal relationships escape him but Kaeya has seen him skilfully navigate conversations before. And even this now is all done to put Kaeya at ease.

And he hates to admit it, but it’s working.

“You didn’t,” he sighs out and threads their fingers together. “There wasn’t anything to spoil anyway. You were working before I came to bother you.”

He distracted Albedo with kisses, until he almost shattered a vial, but Kaeya leaves that unsaid. Albedo knows anyway, going by the glint in his eyes.

“Then maybe we should go back to that,” Albedo says. He leans up, just as Kaeya is leaning down but right before their lips meet Albedo says “There is still so much work to be done.”

He’s gone before Kaeya can blink and by the time Kaeya has regained his composure enough to join Albedo at his workbench, he is already engrossed in his work. Kaeya thinks, it’s probably what he deserves after all of this, but it also lets him know that despite his words, Albedo is upset.

And Kaeya can’t even blame him. There have barely been secrets between them, not since Albedo came clean about his homunculus nature and Kaeya told him about the eye he’s hiding. It’s just—it’s not just the eye after all.

It’s also the scar. And Kaeya is not ready for Albedo to see it and might not ever be.

That night, Kaeya can’t sleep. Kaeya ghosts his fingers over the eyepatch which he keeps on, even now, wondering if he shouldn’t just tell Albedo, shouldn’t just show him. But when he turns his head to the right side, he’s met with an Albedo in all his glory—his skin fair and even, completely unblemished except for the one mark he wears so proudly on his neck for everyone to see. Apart from that his skin could be made out of porcelain for how absolutely perfect it is.

It’s the exact opposite of Kaeya’s skin and he knows that Albedo could never find him beautiful again should he know the full extent of imperfections marring his very being.

So no. Kaeya is not going to show him. It’s probably for the best if he hides that part of himself away for as long as humanly possible.

~*~*~

Kaeya has been covering up the scar on his chest for longer than he cares to remember but the one perk that brings is that he by now can do it even half asleep. Given that he has to get up even earlier to get it done, it’s the least he gets in return.

On days like this he wonders if it wouldn’t just be easier to change his damn outfit but his outfit is as much a part of the act he puts on as everything else, so that is out of the question. Besides, it does help to get information from tipsy and drunk people at the tavern. 

Sometimes it seems as if they find it easier to talk to Kaeya’s chest than to his face and it’s an advantage he can hardly give up.

Kaeya is reaching for the next pot with make-up in line, fumbling his way through his routine more than half asleep when suddenly the front door opens.

That certainly is enough to wake him up completely.

“Kaeya?” Albedo calls out and who else would it be but him. It’s not as if Kaeya goes around handing out keys to his place to just everyone.

Kaeya briefly debates if pretending to not be here will make Albedo leave, but by now he’ll have noticed Kaeya’s shoes and his sword by the front door and Kaeya never leaves the house without them.

No, pretending is not going to help here. Kaeya strains his ears and just like he dreaded he hears Albedo take off his shoes before he makes his way over to the kitchen.

He’s here to stay then.

“Fuck,” Kaeya mutters under his breath, rushing through his routine in case Albeo decides to come looking for him. He can absolutely not find Kaeya with his scar on full display like this.

The faint smell of coffee reaches Kaeya in the bathroom and he can just imagine Albedo puttering around in his kitchen as if he belongs there, feeling completely at home. It almost aches with how desperately Kaeya wants to keep this but he knows that life is a fickle thing and affection is just as easily snatched away as it’s given. Kaeya already learned that the hard way and he is not keen to have a repetition of that.

Sure, Albedo can look past the fact who and what Kaeya is, due to the fact that Albedo himself isn’t quite human but the scars are a different matter. His looks are one of the very few things Kaeya has going for him and if Albedo realizes just how marred he really is, he’ll surely turn away.

And Kaeya can’t lose Albedo.

Kaeya takes his time to put the finishing touches on his chest, making absolutely sure that the scar will be completely hidden once he slips his shirt on and only then does he step out of the bathroom.

He finds Albedo slumped over the kitchen table, his mug of coffee clutched in one hand and Kaeya can’t help himself. The picture Albedo makes in his kitchen is simply too enticing so Kaeya goes over and drops a kiss to his head.

“I didn’t know you were going to come by,” Kaeya says when Albedo only hums and as soon as the words leave his mouth he knows he fucked up.

He sounds way too defensive and there’s no way Albedo hasn’t picked up on it.

“I–thought it’s okay. You gave me a key, after all,” Albedo gives back, noticeably more awake now and Kaeya pulls away. 

“Yeah, sure, I just would have–” Kaeya works his jaw and crosses his arms defensively in front of his chest. “A little warning would have been nice, is all.”

“Kaeya,” Albedo says with a sigh and it immediately puts Kaeya on edge. “Is this about the scars?”

And just like that Kaeya freezes up completely. He wants to say something, wants to deny whatever conclusion Albedo has come to but he can’t even manage to form words. It feels a little bit as if his life is crumbling around him and he wonders just how long it will take until Albedo gets up to leave. Until he walks out and never comes back.

“How?” he finally croaks out and almost wilts under the look Albedo gives him. 

“Please do remember that I am the Captain of the Investigation Team. I am neither stupid nor blind and some of your scars are raised enough that they can be felt even through the clothes. So far I didn’t say anything because clearly you’re being weird about it but I think it’s enough now. What is going on?”

“Why would you think something is going on?” Kaeya shoots back, falling back on his usual tactics of extracting information instead of giving anything away himself. 

“Because you’re acting weird. You have been acting weird for a while now. You know I’m not that into the sexual aspect of the relationship so I thought you were holding back on my account and that’s why I haven’t said anything before but it’s not actually that, right? You’re content to keep me at a distance because you’re hung up about something and it’s that, correct? Your scars? I just don’t understand why.”

“What’s there to understand?” Kaeya deflects because he knows where this is going and it’s kind of cruel of Albedo to drag this out. “You know where the door is.”

Albedo narrows his eyes at him but doesn’t actually move otherwise.

“You think your scars are going to change the fact that I love you?”

At that Kaeya flinches. Albedo has never actually said that before; sure, they are exclusive and Kaeya is reasonably sure that Albedo cares for him but to hear it so plainly? It’s throwing Kaeya off.

“Is that–also a problem?” Albedo asks and now suddenly he sounds guarded as if he’s the one bracing for rejection.

“It’s–surprising, that’s all,” Kaeya admits and finally sits down opposite of Albedo, who doesn’t seem too pleased, still.

“It seems we’ve both been lacking in that department,” he gives back and Kaeya hears it for the reprimand it is. 

It’s not as if he has said it before, either.

“I do, though,” he whispers, unable to meet Albedo’s eyes as he says it. “I love you, too. That’s why I’m so hesitant.”

“Scared,” Albedo corrects him and Kaeya can’t even refute that so he simply shrugs. “Of what? Help me understand, so I can put your worries to rest.”

“You won’t understand.” Kaeya shakes his head. “You can’t.”

“Because I don’t have scars.”

“Because you’re perfect.” He lets out a harsh breath. “Because you were made to be literally perfect.”

“And yet my master still found fault with me,” Albedo mutters. “But you’re right. I don’t have scars. I can’t get scars.”

“Lucky you,” Kaeya bitterly mutters and even though he is the cryo user in the room it still feels as if the temperature suddenly noticeably drops.

“I find it rather–troublesome,” Albedo finally says and it’s surprising enough that Kaeya finally lifts his head to look at him.

“What are you talking about? You are perfect in every way, nothing will ever be able to mar you, and you’re dissatisfied with that?”

“Is that how you see yourself?” Albedo tilts his head in thought and Kaeya does not like the feeling of being pinned under his gaze. He feels like one of Albedo’s more puzzling experiments. “Is that what you think of scars? That they are disfiguring?”

At that Kaeya scoffs.

“Of course they are. What else would they be? Beautiful?” He almost sneers the last word but Albedo’s gaze meets his as evenly as before.

“I find them fascinating, actually. Wonderful, in a way, because they allow you to recount your life through them. Each scar makes up a story about your life, neither good nor bad, simply preserving what you went through. I am–lacking, in that way.”

Kaeya brow furrows at that but before he can put his confusion into words, Albedo goes on.

“The day before you came to visit, a wild boar attacked me. I was speared clean through, right here,” he points to his left side, “but it all healed up. There’s no trace of it to be seen.”

“Albedo! Why didn’t you say?”

“Like I said, it’s all gone now. Every reminder of that vanished. And soon, even the memory will disappear. Sometimes there’s this ache in my shoulder; a previous injury, no doubt but I don’t remember. I don’t know what caused it and I never will. It feels as if I’m an empty canvas; nothing ever sticks to me. I could be born yesterday and people would believe it with the lack of a life my skin tells them.”

Kaeya opens his mouth but he’s not actually sure what he wants to say and before he can figure that out Albedo beats him to it.

“I tried to make them stick once, you know,” he whispers and Kaeya watches with a sick feeling in his gut how he traces a line up his arm. “Nothing I tried worked. And now it’s barely even a memory anymore.”

There’s a faraway look in Albedo’s eyes, one that makes Kaeya’s heart beat fast in worry and he slams a hand on the table.

“Stop that,” he hisses out and he almost feels bad when he sees how Albedo flinches. “You don’t understand how it is to be marked like that, the kind of looks it gets you. You understand nothing.”

“I don’t,” Albedo agrees. “But not for a lack of trying. I don’t know how it is for you to be marked like that. But you don’t understand how it is to not be marked by anything. Tell me, Kaeya, how often have you bonded with your fellow soldiers over scars? How often have you shared stories and drinks over late-night talks?”

There’s a ferocity in his voice that Kaeya only ever rarely hears from him and he isn’t sure how to handle this. And if he’s being completely honest then he has to admit that Albedo is right. Scars do bring up a kind of comradery with Kaeya’s fellow knights. 

He has made up more than one story about how he ‘lost his eye’ all in the name of getting information out of someone; it’s a tool Kaeya uses quite often. It doesn’t change the fact that he would rather not have them, though.

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“Because you’re a stubborn bastard,” Albedo almost immediately agrees but then he shrugs. “I’m not saying it changes anything. I’m just saying I don’t understand why you’re so adamant on not letting me see your scars. Clearly I don’t have the same hang-ups about them as you clearly do.”

“Yeah, I heard you, Albedo, you think my scars make me beautiful. Can you fuck off with that now?”

“You’re not listening,” Albedo says with a shake of his head and he’s almost eerily calm. “They don’t make you beautiful. But they also don’t make you ugly, like you so clearly seem to think. They don’t make you anything. They just are. And I don’t care for you more or less, knowing that you have scars. They are not the reason I fell in love with you and they won’t be the reason I will fall out of love with you. Your prickly personality, though, that might do the trick.”

It’s a cheap trick and Kaeya knows it for what it is but it doesn’t change the fact that it makes him smile, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. 

“That’s better. Listen, Kaeya, I’m not going to force you to show me your scars but it feels as if you’re forcing yourself away from me because of them and that I cannot accept. I am right here and I’m not going anywhere, with knowledge of your scars or without so don’t make our relationship hinge on that, that’s all I’m saying.” With that Albedo gets up and shoots Kaeya a small smile. “Now, I realize I might not be entirely welcome here today, so I’ll just go home. Come find me if you want, alright?”

It seems as if Albedo is hell-bent on making good on his word because he starts to walk and it doesn’t seem as if he’s going to stop any time soon and Kaeya finds that he can’t have that. Just as Albedo walks past him, he reaches out, circling his arm around Albedo’s middle and pulling him on his lap.

“Don’t go,” Kaeya whispers, hiding his face away in his neck. “I can’t–show you, not today, but don’t go.”

“You don’t have to show me,” Albedo soothes him, pushing his fingers through Kaeya’s hair as he properly straddles his lap. “But don’t pull away from me either.”

“Fair,” Kaeya allows and presses a kiss to Albedo’s neck, close to the only mark that does stick to him.

“One question, though,” Albedo suddenly says and he’s tense in Kaeya’s arms in a way that tells Kaeya he won’t like it.

“You can try.”

“They are so raised–don’t you ever go to see a healer?” Albedo wants to know and ghosts his fingers over one of the scars on Kaeya’s side.

It makes him freeze–force of habit more than anything–but Kaeya takes a deep breath and consciously relaxes.

“Barbara hasn’t met a secret she can keep yet, not when it comes to Jean or Rosaria.”

“Ah, meddling friends. I get it.”

“I usually–” Kaeya freezes up, wonders if he’s really going to do this, if he’s really going to talk about this, but then Albedo scratches his scalp, not demanding anything and Kaeya melts into his touch. “I usually freeze the wounds until I can deal with them at home. A lot of them have burn marks because of that.”

Albedo forces his head up at that, forces Kaeya to look at him even though he wants to do nothing more than hide.

“If my home is closer, you go there. If my workshop is closer, then you go there. I’ll stock up on first-aid supplies. Do not force yourself to endure this for longer than you have to, if there are other options.”

He could have scolded Kaeya. He could have called him crazy and he could have been mad as well. And instead Albedo shows him nothing but care and love.

“I love you,” Kaeya whispers, trying his damn hardest to ignore the burning of his eye but going by the look on Albedo’s face he knows exactly what’s going on.

“I love you,” he gives right back, and when he leans in to first press a kiss to Kaeya’s eyepatch before he moves on to his mouth, Kaeya doesn’t even flinch.

He’s certain now that Albedo is going to wait until he’s ready and that he’s not going to judge him by his scars whenever that happens.

And that is all Kaeya can ask for at the moment.

[mmmmbreadsoup]

Rough Day

1.6k words

Tw: self-harm, self-hatred, mentions of blood

Summary:

You had been having a rough day when it all comes crashing down. How would Michael react when Michael catches you self-destructing?

It had been a few months since Michael had found you. It almost seemed like a twisted daydream you were stuck in. After Michael had taken you in, there were only a few incidents. Such as, your father finally noticing your absence which led to the police finding you in Michael’s care. That little fiasco didn’t go so well, as Michael was known for his violent and brutal ways. No one came looking for you after that.

Speaking of violence, recently he had been coming back with piles of money. You had taken this as a gift to spruce up your room in his house. With that much cash, you were able to paint your room pastel yellow to fit the rest of the house, and decorate your room to the best of your ability. It had been probably years since someone changed the light, so changing the light was on your to do list. Scrounging up the last of your money, you went to the hardware store. That was mistake number one of the day.

Ever since you made your presence known, nobody dared to step foot within six feet of you. Which was to your advantage at the moment because you need space to relax. But also, because lights needed to be chosen. You were choosing between a wall light and a ceiling light when you dropped something. Normally that wouldn't be that bad, but today was going so bad already. You had been doing good to keep the thoughts at bay, but with little to no coping mechanisms, there was only so much you could do. The rest of the trip went by fast, with you getting what you need, but also getting something that you would regret later.

Getting home wasn’t too eventful except for the fact that the radio was nothing but static. That was tragic. Now you were alone with your thoughts and a painful sound to cage them in. 

Once inside of the door, you finally let the tears withdraw from your stinging eyes. You didn’t want to crash, so you had to fight back tears on the way home. Which was honestly worse, as you had to wipe your eyes multiple times, because vision impairment was terrible for a driver.

Looking around panicked, you realized Michael wasn’t at home. That wasn’t good. That was definitely not good at all. You decided to at least try and get by those thoughts. You were never able to sit still in the beginning of these parts. Pacing around the kitchen, your eyes continually traced back to the block holding all the kitchen knives. You tried your best to block the thoughts out, anything to occupy your mind, but nothing came to exist in your mind except for the overly loud thunderous intrusive thoughts. Slowly you became more and more numb with each passing second. The tears had run out, and emotions were no longer present. Making up your mind, you crept up the stairs with light ghostly steps. Just in case Michael was home, you peeked into every room. He wasn’t there, that was both good and bad. Good for your more irrational part of your brain, and bad for the part of your brain that was trying its best to signal hesitance. 

When you looked down, your hand was filled with a brand new blade. The metal handle was a metallic color. You had found it best suited for the job but also because of its nice color. You pulled your pants a bit of the way down to get a look of the scabbed lines holding place on your thigh. They were still healing, which just meant that you’d have to go a bit more down than you were expecting. 

This was the part that always made you give it a second thought. But those doubts never lasted long. The wave of hate washed over you again as you brought the blade to your lower thigh. Pushing inwards, you gave a quick and light swipe. Starting off small was the best way to try to give yourself boundaries on how far it should go. You could never bring yourself to go deeper than having white show before blood. 

You cleared out the daze that settled in you and looked at the wound. Little beads of red were starting to form around the cut. Deciding it wasn’t enough, you did it again. This time, it was a bit deeper. You held onto the handle with a tight grip, and slid it against your leg. This one had settled in an emotion that was too often for you to mistake it, self-hatred. You quickly went from a few cuts, to quick angry lines being formed. Some were shallow, but most were a bit deep. Blood was pooling around all the cuts, slowly dripping down the sides of your thigh. 

 That’s when you heard a shaky intake of breath.

You snapped your head to the left, and there stood Michael. Just staring. A few seconds were shared before you dropped the blade onto the bed. He started walking towards you, not even bothering to lighten his steps. Normally these things always went wrong, so you thought he was going to just be rid of you. Thinking back, it was a bit hypocritical to judge Corey if you were going to be just as useless. But the choking or stabbing never came. You looked up at him and he was just waiting for your cue. You slowly got up and went into his arms. If anything, this was the time to be most vulnerable with him. You sobbed into his chest, not even saying anything. He just held you there before you managed to slip a joke about having to clean up your filthy blood. After a few more seconds of squishing you in a bear hug, he let go so that you could go dress the wounds. It only took a minute. You had done this before, and using rubbing alcohol made everything faster. Despite people telling you not to, it was just faster and more efficient in your opinion. So you got some paper towels, got them wet, and dabbed at the dried blood. After cleaning off the blood, you took out the alcohol. It was a bit painful, but you bit back any reactions that might’ve came out. Then came the bandages. You took out some clean bandaging and wrapped it around your leg, making sure it wasn’t too constricting. After double checking and throwing out the trash, you decided everything was good. Coming out with bandages on your leg and a fresh pair of shorts, you lowered your head and walked back to Michael. 

He gave you a moment to decide if you wanted contact with him, or distance. You chose the first option, you didn’t want to be alone again. So he decided that it was fine if you wanted to hang onto his arm while he made his way downstairs. He made his way to the fridge to grab some pineapples, watermelon, pears, and cantaloupe to throw into a medium bowl. You had always loved some fruit salad, so he thought it would probably be a nice gesture like he’s seen other people do. He offered it to you, in which in return, you gave a small smile before taking it out of his hands. 

After plucking a few from the bowl, Michael unlatched his arm from your hands. You didn’t think anything of it, he probably just needed to take a break from physical contact. But you instead, heard the t.v click to life. Sounds of the Comedy Central channel sparked to life as you swiveled your head to take a peek. South Park was the chosen show to be broadcasted. That was your favorite. He walked back up to you, and once again, offered his arm. You balanced the bowl in one arm, and attached your hand to his extended arm.

You went to sit on the couch, but eventually ended up leaning into his side with legs folded up to your chest. Normally you would be holding the bowl, but since tonight seemed to be an occasion that called for gentleness, he offered to hold it. So you two sat there in comfortable silence watching the show as you slowly began to get tired. You leaned closer to him laying your head against his shoulder.

All those tears seemed to be draining all your energy as the t.v screen got blurry. Allowing yourself to succumb to it, your eyes became heavy with exhaustion. Next thing you knew, you were being carried back to your bedroom. You tried looking up but Michael brushed his hand over your eyes to tell you to go back to sleep. And so you did. 

You woke up covered in blankets with water next to your bed. You looked around and noticed he took your blade. That made you a bit frantic, as you searched for your other blades. They were missing. He had searched for blades and had taken them all. 

You went downstairs to find all but a single knife remained inside the knife block, that way he knew if you took it or not. You looked around a bit and realized he was on the couch dozing off in a light sleep. He probably didn’t get much to make sure that you were safe and calm. Deciding it was best to let him sleep, you went over to the kitchen and got out a pan. Thinking back on the night, it might’ve been tense, but you were sure that today would be better. Michael would make sure it would happen.

[ask-the-shattered-origins]

*Pauses for a moment, staring at Sharp as if he's insane.*

.... Your brothers.

The other Red Elites...????????

YOUR BROTHERS, SHARP-

...

....

Especially the self murdery one-

*his face softens in realization..* "Oh.. the other elites? Are they.. i didn't think they saw me like that." *his eyes widen again..* "WHAT DO YOU MEAN SELF MURDERY?!"

[goldenavenger02]

I reached for you, but you were gone

In fact, by the time the hands of the clock inched towards four in the morning, that was when he heard the creaky front door open which signaled the return of the youngest ninja from…wherever he had gone.

However, the last thing Cole expected when he walked toward the front door was to see red blood dripping down through the tears of Lloyd’s black gloves onto the hardwood floor.

Cole desperately wanted to go to bed and try to get some much-needed sleep.

This was the first time in weeks that he actually had access to a bed, thanks to his father letting them stay in his home, while construction finished on the monastery which they learned was something that Nya had arranged before they got mixed up with the Sons of Garmadon.

But despite the fact that he was tempted by the promise of sleep, he couldn’t lay down or relax; not after Lloyd had dipped almost as soon as they arrived at the house and hadn’t been seen in hours.

Staying up and waiting on Lloyd was usually something Kai would do, but between Skylor still recovering from using Garmadon’s powers and Nya’s dislocated shoulder, the fire ninja was preoccupied. 

After all, he probably was just getting fresh air and taking a break from being the green ninja; that wasn’t something anyone would blame him for after the hell he had been through, but something in Cole’s gut kept him awake and watched as the analog clock that he grew up watching ticked closer and closer toward morning.

In fact, by the time the hands of the clock inched towards four in the morning, that was when he heard the creaky front door open which signaled the return of the youngest ninja from…wherever he had gone.

However, the last thing Cole expected when he walked toward the front door was to see red blood dripping down through the tears of Lloyd’s black gloves onto the hardwood floor; the red of the drips contrasted harshly against the paleness of his face as their eyes met, the water instantly filling the teen’s softly glowing green eyes.

“Lloyd?,” Cole approached slowly with his hand outstretched toward him, trying to keep him calm and swallowing down his thoughts of how much he could see his younger self in those green eyes, “can I help you get cleaned up?”

He wasn’t shocked when all Lloyd did was nod, allowing Cole to put his hand on his upper back and lead him toward the bathroom; in fact, as the earth ninja turned on the lights and guided Lloyd to sit down on the closed toilet seat before rummaging through the medicine cabinet for the first aid kit, Lloyd didn’t make a single noise despite the tears running down his face.

Cole knew better than to pry; when he would find himself in similar situations where he would shut down as his palms continued to ooze bright red blood from the abrasions that occurred as he climbed mountains, he always hated when someone would ask the dreaded questions of “why did you do this?” and “we can get you help”. 

Not from the fact that doctors, nurses, and even Master Wu cared, but the implications of what they thought was going on and the fact that despite everyone else’s concern, he could never get that one specific person to care.

When he finally found the first aid kit and slowly maneuvered the tattered gloves off of Lloyd’s mangled hands, he was admittedly relieved that the markings were indeed those that he recognized from moving stone and not ones that he would have to discuss with the others in private.

“Lloyd?” Cole asked after dousing a gauze pad in antiseptic and waiting until the still teary eyes looked up at him with a look that he couldn’t describe as anything other than distant, “Do you have anything in the wounds? Like glass?”

It was then when Lloyd spoke for the first time that night, but it wasn’t the answer Cole had been seeking at that moment, rather, it filled in the gap of just where Lloyd had been when this had happened.

“I-I couldn’t save her,” his voice came out eerily quiet, with a hollow sound to it, and it was only then that Cole noticed the blood streaks in his bright blonde hair as well as on his pale face, “s-she was right there a-and I…I was powerless.”

“Hand,” Cole spoke first, waiting until he was able to start wiping down Lloyd’s hand before responding, “I know that any of what I say isn’t going to fix it. I’m not going to pretend I know what you’re going through either because I don’t know.”

Cole finished wiping down his left hand and moved onto his right, watching as he looked at him with confusion as well as zero signs of flinching from the sting of the antiseptic.

“What I am going to say is this. I could see how much she meant to you, even after she betrayed you in Prime Evil’s Eye,” Cole stopped to throw away the blood-stained gauze pad and moved on to wrapping up Lloyd’s hand, “I wasn’t here to help with the resistance, but from what PIXAL was telling Zane and I, she didn’t do anything to give you a reason to think she had changed.”

“I saw her face…” Lloyd swallowed harshly, “She was s-scared, her p-parents died the same way when the Great Devourer-”

“Lloyd, what is this really about to you?” Cole questioned as he finished wrapping his hands and moved on to try and get some of the grime and dried blood, “you cared for Harumi, but after what she did-”

“I don’t know much of Ninjago is dead because of me!” Lloyd shouted with a force that made Cole take a step back from him before reaching under the sink to grab a hand towel and regret just how much he was pushing, “The Devourer, the Overlord, Morro…and now this,” Lloyd’s voice was shaky as he was hit with a violent shudder, “I-I wanted to prove her wrong, okay?”

Cole swallowed as he turned on the cold water and let the fabric absorb the water, but he knew that he couldn’t stop talking now, not when he was so close to finally learning what caused him to be in a bathroom at what was now for sure four-thirty in the morning. “Prove her wrong?”

“S-she said that I was naive. That I was f-foolish to believe that no one died that day, that no one h-has died because of me,” Lloyd explained, which brought Cole back to the brief flash of being sixteen and watching helplessly as the city was destroyed all because of a freakishly large purple snake.

He remembered when he and the others would indeed blame Lloyd for their troubles with the Serpentine until that fateful day when he was swung over Jay’s shoulder and brought aboard The Bounty. 

“I-if I could h-have saved her,” Lloyd’s shaky voice brought Cole’s mind back to the present which meant he was turning off the cold water and wringing out the excess before pressing it to Lloyd’s cheek and starting to try and gently wipe away the blood and dust, “t-then she’d be living proof that n-not everyone dies.”

Cole swallowed as he tried to find the words to slow the tears that spilled down onto the washcloth; they had all experienced survivor’s guilt at some point, he had been the same age as Lloyd when they found out Zane was still alive and all he remembered before that was just how much of a spiral he had found himself and the others in.

Kai had nearly drunk himself into an addiction that was only stopped by his addiction to fighting and while he hadn’t been talking to Jay at the time, he could tell based on the glimpses of the shiny game show that he hadn’t been coping well either just based on his mannerisms on stage.

In fact, it had been Lloyd who pulled them out of their individual unhealthy coping mechanisms. It had been Lloyd who wanted to bring the others back together, to try and revive their team without Zane. In a weird way, Cole had been somewhat thankful that Chen’s henchmen had pointed them in the direction of bringing him home.

He finished wiping Lloyd’s face, having removed enough of the blood and grime that it wouldn’t transfer on the pillows as he slept, and started to put the first aid kit away.

“It’s hard to focus on the good when you lose someone who was important to you,” Cole started, his voice threatening to waver as a brief flash of his mother appeared in his mind, “but, you stopped your father. The colossus was destroyed. And we evacuated the majority of the city in time. So, that has to mean something.”

“I just wish I could have…” Lloyd’s voice was still shaky, but the flow of tears had definitely settled, at least for now, which was as good of a signal as any.

“Come on, punk,” Cole spoke softly, offering his hand for Lloyd to pull himself onto his feet, “let’s get you in bed. After all, someone who shall remain nameless,” he stopped to give Lloyd a pointed look, “told the commissioner that we’d help clean up tomorrow.”

“We did break it.” He shrugged while taking Cole’s outstretched hand, allowing him to lead Lloyd toward the air mattress in the main room where he had told everyone that he was fine with sleeping on.

“You’re right,” Cole surrendered, waiting to watch Lloyd get comfortable before pulling the throw blanket over him and gently resting a hand on his shoulder to assure him that he was indeed safe and it was finally over, “but, we’re going to help rebuild it.”

[alicetallula]

Bottom Cas Big Bang 2023 - [Unpublished Fic] A Time of Our Own by psyleedee - 28.01.2024

Here's the art I did for a second story for the @bottomcasbigbang's 2023 round that never was published in the end. Done at the end of May 2023 so there might be a slight difference in style and stuff 😅

The story was 'A Time of Our Own' by @psyleedee ! (Reach out to me whenever dear, I'll be more than happy to rework with you on this story or another. I just hope you're alright and happy ! 😊💜)

Banner - [Unpublished Fic] A Time of Our Own by psyleedee - 28.01.2024

Done using ink pens, watercolors, gel pens, alcohol markers, colored pencils, acrylic paint pens, a chrome molotov paint pen, graphite pencils and Photoshop for the title and credits and the night effect

AO3 post / DeviantArt post / Instagram post / Patreon post / Pillowfort post / Twitter post

Banner as is - [Unpublished Fic] A Time of Our Own by psyleedee - 28.01.2024

Done using ink pens, watercolors, gel pens, alcohol markers, colored pencils, acrylic paint pens, a chrome molotov paint pen, graphite pencils and Photoshop for the night effect

AO3 post / DeviantArt post / Instagram post / Patreon post / Pillowfort post / Twitter post

Young Destiel crying - [Unpublished Fic] A Time of Our Own by psyleedee - 28.01.2024

Done using ink pens, watercolors, gel pens, alcohol markers, colored pencils, acrylic paint pens, graphite pencils and Photoshop for the night effect

AO3 post / DeviantArt post / Instagram post / Patreon post / Pillowfort post / Twitter post

TW : Self-harm implied !

Castiel showing his scars to Sam - [Unpublished Fic] A Time of Our Own by psyleedee - 28.01.2024

Done using watercolors, ink pens, colored pencils, alcohol markers, gel pens and acrylic paint pens

AO3 post / DeviantArt post / Instagram post / Patreon post / Pillowfort post / Twitter post

Destiel shaving cream foamy kisses - [Unpublished Fic] A Time of Our Own by psyleedee - 28.01.2024

Done using watersolors, ink pens, colored pencils, alcohol markers, graphite pencils, gel pens and acrylic paint pens

AO3 post / DeviantArt post / Instagram post / Patreon post / Pillowfort post / Twitter post

[random-nerd-posts]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Nimona (2023) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ambrosius Goldenloin & Nimona, Ballister Blackheart | Ballister Boldheart/Ambrosius Goldenloin, Ballister Blackheart | Ballister Boldheart & Nimona, Ballister Blackheart | Ballister Boldheart & Ambrosius Goldenloin Characters: Ambrosius Goldenloin, Ballister Blackheart | Ballister Boldheart, Nimona (Nimona), Todd Sureblade, Original Characters Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, References to Depression, Ambrosius Goldenloin Needs a Hug, Ambrosius Goldenloin-centric, no beta we die like the queen, Vomiting, Drinking Summary:

“Man, screw the public, your body is literally going numb because you are mentally killing yourself. Getting drunk and throwing bottles and running away from your problems, while being poorly patched up from an attempted robbery is not love language to yourself! It isn’t healthy and keeping it in isn’t healthy and you need to talk about it. I know how it feels to bottle it up and then blow up, you saw what happened. Everyone saw what happened!”

~X~X~

Ambrosius Goldenloin is dealing with his life of trauma of dealing with being Gloreth's descendent, cutting off his lover's arm, trying to kill the so called monster and it all comes at him full force and he reacts, let's say poorly.

[liarian]

Rei-chan

Dimple had had enough of such bullshit. Shigeo was supposed to have been easier to manipulate without the kid but it had backfired. His plans to conquer the world weren't going to get very far if the key element was locked up all day doing the psychic equivalent of macramé. If only he could have at least possessed him, but not even asleep, Dimple was strong enough to ignore Shigeo's natural barriers. It wasn't because he hadn't tried.

He still couldn't believe he even missed being threatened with being exorcised. Ever since Shigeo had fought with the brat, he had merely ignored Dimple as if he were just a gadfly. Sometimes he was even sure he was dealing with someone else. If Reigen was what Shigeo needed to get back to normal, Dimple was going to offer him on a platter.

Or at least that was the plan.

"Hey!" Dimple growled as the aura sparked at him as if charged with static electricity. " Why the hell is there a barrier, may I ask?"

The kid spun around startled, dropping whatever it was between his hands onto the desk and hiding it behind his back.

"Oh, shit! You scared me." Walking over to the window, he opened it and let Dimple in. "It's you!"

What an idiot. Whoever had put up the barrier, he hadn't bothered to explain to the brat how to keep out undesirable elements. But well, better for him.

"Kiddo, what were you doing?"

It wasn't as if the brat had never had much meat attached to his bones, but if he kept losing weight he was eventually going to disappear. Dimple crossed the room, his curiosity dragging him to the desk.

"I have a name, you know?" the kid followed him, somewhat sulking. "It's Reigen. Arataka Reigen. Not 'Kiddo'."

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say." Dimple ignored him, more interested in the cutter lying in the middle of the table. "So you were doing arts and crafts?"

It was clear that the kid was out of his mind. It was the only thing that explained why until not so long ago he spent most of his time with Shigeo. He was so pathetic. And to think that kid held in the palm of his hand the most powerful ESPer Dimple had ever come across in his centuries of existence.

"What's it to you?" The kid growled, grabbing the cutter and putting it away in the top drawer of the desk. "And what are you doing here? Get the hell out. You're nothing but trouble."

"Me? Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Dimple replied sarcastically.

The kid dared to throw anything in his face when all his plans to become the benevolent god the stupid humans needed had gone down the drain because of him?

"Shigeo could hold the world in the palm of his hand if he wanted to and instead, he rather be a normal person because a brat thinks it's wrong to use his powers against other people."

"So it was you who convinced him to torture Sato?"

"It would have been nice, but no. To be a sadistic bastard he is enough on his own. He just needed a little push. I still don't understand why he cares so much about you but you're going to give me a hand."

"What? No! Leave Kageyama-san alone." The kid jumped up trying to grab him, as if he was going to be able to touch a spirit when the only reason he could see him was because Dimple wanted him to.

"I've had enough of stupid little games."

With a slight pop, he managed to get himself inside the kid's body. As if warming up before starting to exercise, he stretched his arms. Getting used to a new body always took a few seconds. His straw-colored hair fell messily over his forehead and the two red circles glowed on his cheeks.

"Ah, much better." Dimple smiled in satisfaction as he observed himself in the window's reflection. "Let's see if my theory is correct and we manage to get him out again, huh, Rei-chan?"

[ginminowas]

im not good at drawing Detailed hands but attempt at making lillow’s hands more lillow lore accurate

[autobot2001]

Concerning Thoughts

Author: Autobot2001 Genre: Fanfiction Fandom: Transformers Rating: E Warning: Implied self-harming Pairing: None Description: Crosshairs looks at Drift's stitched cut. Thoughts of Drift self-harming flood his mind. Continued from day 22.

@marchofpain day 23; cut

"Let me see your arm," Crosshairs insists. He looks at the cut Drift had stitched up. He knows it's only been three days so the stitches won't be removed for a week. He wasn't expecting to picture Drift self-harming. The two mechs already worry about Jamie self-harming, Crosshairs doesn't want to worry about Drift self-harming. "Crosshairs?" Drift asks, worried seeing fear on Crosshairs' face. "I… y-you aren't s-self-harming, are you?" Drift hates Crosshairs thought to ask the question. "No, I swear this was an accident. We worry about Jamie's self-harming. I know it's pointless to do such an action. We're trying to protect Jamie from self-harming, or — you know," Crosshairs tries to move to hug Drift, but the pain is still intense, "stop moving. You know what? Ratchet hasn't checked if you're healing from the concussion. Want to see if you can watch TV?" Crosshairs nods. Drift turns on the TV. The two hope to relax.

[blueprint-poetry]

arguing myself out of the corner

You stumble in, hand to your side Looking like you tripped over a landmine And you gave each one a name It’s always the same I don’t know if it’ll ever change

We can count every rib, every stitch Count the times they turned away in the panic Count the stars and the shatter Count all the things that add up to the matter And after all of this, They still can’t tell you what the point is

Working throat and thirsting lips Belly and bones, malnourished I have pulled on every scar, every itch Wondered what the truth is We talk and we fight and we settle down But listen, kid There are some things they will never understand And that’s what the truth is

No, we will not touch the medication You know we only need it when We’re forced to alter what state we’re in If we can’t function or have to hide They only take it for so long And never take it to the depth Never just let me be

Chemical alteration Made them feel so connected Chemical debilitation Wired my brain to wreckage We fight fire with fire And argue over who set it Let it all go up in flame While we waste this It’s so pointless

Touch-starved and love-deprived I know who you are inside They refused who lived inside That’s fine, it’s just What isn’t meant for us

So come here, I know you’re scared I’m angry Cause we’re broken and all they could see Was another reason not to love me Unconditionally Falling from cliffs of conditional Making messes on the sub-dermal Surface tension Of being human It’s okay I’ll keep saying it Til we believe it

And we’re crying a lot lately, I know The dam broke and everything came out, And as much as it hurt, you have to understand it: It sloughed off all the snuff we never needed, Anyone who left when the weather defeated Their fair parade Birds of a feather Flocking together In their sunshine day But you know, everything comes in seasons And passes in cycles Sometimes you have to migrate by night Light of the moon, under cloud or over fire And they just can’t take it? Not a life we can have for granted, Holding hands with a stranded Frame of mind It wasn’t okay this time Cause they promised it was safe, We trust-fell, blacked out, thought we’d get a way out- Woke up in a lions den, Listening to unweathered friends Wagging tongues in an unpromised land The sound of their feet, fleeing Beady eyes gleaming Thirsty tongues sniffing The scent of blood in the air We were hemorrhaging it And they, they led the pride right to us Left us in these ruins Had the nerve to say, You know it’s your fault it happened this way BUT IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT IT HAPPENED THIS WAY.

Listen to me. Their fearful pride has been lying. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it. Promises of safety, promises of love, When the chips are down you know what they’re made of, Earth crumbling and off come the gloves Worthless words in empty tombs Cutting sky-scraping ruins From tabletop games They love to play ’em.

We shattered in the wake unheld Woke to find they’d broken ground And we weren’t even dead yet.

It’s bad And I’m sorry It’s bad And I’m sorry It’s bad And I’m sorry

You just keep repeating Echoes of your skin shredding Rib-cage exploding Sirens screaming We’re pacing Hospital floors cause we couldn’t be alone Clocked out and couldn’t make it home Running off ghosts unknown And phones are ringing They call it an emergency But We feel nothing.

So tell me, Is this imagination Or ideation? Are we falling or flying, Jumping from ledges They cut open inside us No one’s answering And God dammit, Isn’t it time We take our life Back.

They ran, so cut them out ruthless, We’ve suffered endless, And isn’t it time We end it?

Oh, give me the knife, I’ll do it. They want to leave us in ruin, We’ll undo it. Grab the pen and burst an artery, They lent hands to make us bleed? We’ll bleed them a whole God damn symphony And in the future, they’ll remember Memorialize their dismembered Untruths We took the lies and fashioned a pyre Set alight and exposed the liars

They sent the lions after us, Unleashed the wolves Well we’ve been running this darkness a long time Our vision’s sharper now They’ve got a lot to answer now, But listen.

Right now you’re bleeding, Sitting in these rags, screaming, Just needing Something soothing. It’s not like we ever intended To get caught with our self out over The bombs when they went off. We didn’t even know they’d be there. We tried believing in better things Than all our fears had us reeling Instinctively to. Oh, don’t do it. You know I never put you up to it. Don’t go reaching for a garrote. How do I convince myself It’s not worth it?

Okay. Let’s start over.

You stumble in. Your head’s cracked apart again. You’re bleeding, ribs pried open. You’ve changed a lot but the history Is what matters. You’re counting pieces like stars In the universe. There are too many. Okay. So. You tell me, Is a love like that worth saving? And who cares what these worthless words mean The meaning is in the framing Of just what kind of words they are. Ah, yes, I know. Of all the things they are, They’re also insidious. Snuck inside your broken little heart. Took a few turns about the atrium. Pounded home a few more worthless Ones, And that’s just the way they got ’em. You’re broken. It’s calling You a thousand things That they love to echo. I’ve always been you, I know.

So listen, This Was not Your fault.

How do I convince myself to let it go? We know all about the part We fell into. Roles we never wanted To enable. And now they’ve left us so unable To put pressure On all these stage left exit wounds We were left with.

And they ran, they came out Guns blazing We were at our most vulnerable, Exposed, unable These are the choices they made. You have to remember that.

And I know it’s hard To figure out how To forgive them without spinning This And making it all your fault. It was not your fault. But you and I both know We don’t know how else to let it go, And that’s not fair. Because we’ve been suffocating under that lie While they all refused to give us space To fall apart and be safe.

And if this is the kind of game they want to play With their gifted lives, It’s not one they get to play with mine. We’re on a mission They’re never gonna understand. Don’t know what we’re meant for So they don’t know what we’re made of, But they’ll find out. Throw down the hatchets, shovels, gloves, They’ve been erecting gravestones But we’ll bury the tools they’re misusing And claw our way out of ruin. We have to. It’s the only way to show ’em.

So thank you for laying down the fall And going home tonight. Assembling words instead of flights From unfolding heights And making ourself visible In all this battened glory, Beaten, bruised, a little misused, But still Beloved. We didn’t find ourselves in ruin, He found us in the dark and tombs And tore through the veil They’d placed over the face of death And called life. It was the only life they’d speak, But He still sings great and mighty Melodies Over the ruined heart Inside of me.

–blueprint poetry

[tearsfallout]

[elven-author]

So I wasn't able to finish this yesterday for day two of fictober23 but the Prompt "Don't worry, I got you." Rating: T Fandom: Resident evil Pairing: None (Although can be read as romantic or platonic) Warning(S): Reference to Torture, signs of PTSD, angst, implied self-harm (Kind?)

“Don’t worry, I got you.” Leon mutters, one of hands on the back of her head, the other on the small of her back. Shielding her from all that can hurt her. “I wish I knew how to make it go away. I wish I could make it all go away trust me I do. But you’re strong, you’re one hell of a fighter.” Leon rests his chin atop of Ashley’s head, his breathing calm and even as he comforts the young woman.

“Do you have nightmares?” Ashley asks softly, her grip not letting up as tears slip from her eyes. She hasn’t cried once since getting back from Spain. Her entire body for the first time since that day having become numb to everything and everyone.

“Every night.” Leon answers truthfully, he knows lying to Ashley won’t fix anything, it won’t make her feel better, and it more certainly won’t take away the pain she currently feels. “I can’t even remember what a full night’s sleep actually feels like.”