#art is SO PAINFUL these days Im really struggling

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

I drew a singular hand today are you guys proud of me

[mikashisus]

ray idk anything about hsr or genshin so i can’t req for those unfortunately 💔 BUT you summoned me by including bllk in your list HEHEHE can i request smth for nagi?? i don’t really have any specific ideas though…maybe childhood friends 🤔 or anything you want really!!

sorry this is so unspecific i’ve never requested before 😔 but ilyyyy and congrats on 200 that’s amazing!!

— definitely not mira 👹

STITCH ME UP

synopsis: you didn’t consider nagi seishiro a friend at first. but now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

taglist. @pneumosia @pixelcafe-network @gl4di0lus ( join the taglist here! )

word count. 2.1k ( contents : semi angst, injuries, mc has a short temper )

notes. this has been sitting in my inbox since JULY IM SO SORRY MIRA 😭 but it's finally here!! there'll def be a part 2 bc this is so dogshit and i need to redeem myself with a second part. mira i look up to ur writing sm so u only deserve peak, and i promise u'll get it in part 2 queen 🙏 anyw um the title is in reference to the song “stitch me up” by set it off :))

header art by: @/Liiiiiiimsao ( twt )

The first time you met Nagi Seishiro, you were about to go into your first year of middle school, curled up on the side of the street struggling to wrap a bandage around your left arm. 

It was sunset then, and the world was quiet aside from the loud buzzing of cicadas and the occasional car passing by. 

Nagi had just left a tiny convenience store located on the edge of the street, his phone in his hands as he tapped away at the game he was currently fixated on. Knowing the way back home by heart, he began to walk in that direction, unaware of his surroundings. 

It was only when he tripped over something rather sturdy did he finally forcefully take his eyes off the device in his hand. His grip on his phone tightened. He was determined not to drop it and risk the screen cracking again. 

Not paying any mind to what he just tripped over, he sighed in relief that he did not drop his phone, and patted down his pants. 

“HEY!” 

A loud yell drew him from his stupor. He slowly turned, coming face to face with a scowl. He blinked at you for a few seconds, before he faced you properly and raised a brow. 

“Yes?” 

“Look where you’re going, asshole! You tripped over me!” You snapped, patience wearing thin.

His shoulders slumped. Now that you stood in front of him, you realized just how tall he actually was. He kind of looked like a third year. It made you all the more aggravated. You hated anyone that could look down on you like he was. 

“Oh. Sorry, I guess.” He shrugged, acting as if what just happened was not a big deal. “You have a bad mouth.” 

That was the last straw. Your fists clenched tightly, your nails digging into your skin as your eye twitched. You ignored the pain in your palms and challenged his stoic stare. 

“So what?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Is that a problem?” 

He shrugged again and looked down at his phone. “I don’t really care.” 

He got ready to leave, when he cast one last glance at you, and his eyes landed on the now bloody bandage that came undone from your arm. The longer he stared, the more he realized he'd seen you before. 

He racked his brain for answers, sifting through each memory to try and remember where he’d seen you. Meanwhile, you were silent, fidgety. You did not enjoy people staring at you. It made you anxious, like they were trying to challenge you in some way. 

This weird boy who you did not understand and you deemed an asshole for not watching where he walked made you feel quite nervous. You knew him from school. He was the boy who was exceptionally good at volleyball. 

You could remember how fascinated you were watching him play during gym class. He had all the talent you could only hope for, and the envy had bubbled up inside you, growing exponentially. Despite your envy, you quickly forgot about him after you no longer had to be in the same proximity as him, and you went about your life without thinking of him again. 

Until now. 

Nagi finally remembered where he had seen you. It was as if a lightbulb had suddenly appeared above his head, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise. You were that one kid that liked to pick a fight with anyone taller than you. 

He first caught a glimpse of you in the nurse’s office when he had tripped outside during gym class and cut open his knee. As he was waiting for the nurse to return with gauze, he heard a commotion outside the office and saw your rather short form tackle a boy twice your size. 

With the strength of a lion tucked inside that small body of yours, you refused to give up the fight until the nurse came back and rushed out into the hall to separate the two of you. 

Nagi remembered watching your face fall in defeat when the nurse said to go to the principal’s office and that your parents would need to be called. 

“You’re that kid.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. “You like to pick fights with people.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he watched you deflate like a balloon right in front of him. Your face fell, and your arms dropped to your sides. He wondered what it was that made you so upset. Was it the reputation you had around the school? 

Just then, he saw the loose bandage on your arm completely come undone. It fell to the ground and pooled around your feet. Time stopped, and he stared in absolute horror at the mess of stitches on your arm. You did nothing to pick up the bandages. In fact, you barely moved. 

He would’ve thought you to be a statue if not for the slight twitching of your fingers. You tapped idly against your thigh, your eyes blank as you stared at the ground. He watched closely as your fingers danced in a certain rhythmic movement, and he soon realized you were tapping in morse code. 

S.O.S. 

He barely had time to register that it was morse code. His focus went back to the ghastly stitches on your arm. They looked as if they were done by someone with no experience whatsoever, but there was clearly an attempt. 

The wound itself did not look any better, and he wondered if you had even cleaned it all. He noticed a few other scars littered on your arm. They were smaller and less noticeable, but his intense stare had caught sight of them easily. 

“How’d you hurt yourself?” He questioned softly, unaware he had asked that out loud instead of inside his head. 

You did not answer. Not right away at least. With a heavy sigh, you collapsed back against the fence you were previously leaning on before he had tripped over you. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you muttered with a tinge of venom in your voice. “It was someone else… But no one ever believes me, so as far as anyone is concerned, I did this to myself.” 

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead, he picked up the bandages you dropped, careful not to touch the parts covered in blood, and told you to wait here. 

Where would I even go? You thought. It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon. 

Within a few minutes, he was rushing out of the convenience store and across the street again, a pack of gauze and a water bottle in his hands. His phone was now tucked into his pants pocket. He kneeled down next to you and gently reached for your arm. 

“Did you try to stitch this up yourself?” 

He did not need an answer. He already knew it, though he felt the need to ask anyway. You nodded, so slight he almost missed it. He pulled a pair of scissors from the second plastic bag wrapped around his arm and carefully cut the string. 

With gentle hands, he removed the stitches to the best of his ability and dropped them onto the bandages from earlier. You tried your best not to move the whole time, but he could tell from your scrunched expression that you were in more than a bit of pain. 

He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle. “This might hurt.” He poured water over your wound, causing you to bite back a scream. 

“I don’t know how to do stitches, so…” He trailed off. “So I just got this.” He held up the gauze he bought and carefully wrapped up your arm. 

As soon as he was finished, he threw the gross bandages into the now empty plastic bag and glanced at you. Your brows were still furrowed and your lip was still tugged between your teeth. 

He stood up, taking a look at the sky. The sun was almost fully over the horizon by now, and he was likely late for dinner. He needed to leave now and get back home. As he turned to do just that, he almost missed the slight crack of your voice. 

“Thank you.” 

Were it not for the temporary silence of the cicadas, he would have missed your words entirely, and it would not have paved the way for your future with Nagi Seishiro. 

The next time you saw Nagi was in your second year of middle school. 

A white volleyball came flying out of the gym one day after school, narrowly missing his nose. It fell to the ground with a plop a foot away from him. Rushed footsteps sounded from behind him as he picked it up, and he could hear the yells of the volleyball team from the open doors of the gym. 

A familiar voice entered his ears. “I got it!” 

Moments later, you were rushing out of the gym doors, sweat lining your temple and your collarbone. An exhausted expression rested on your face, and fresh bandages were wrapped around the same arm he tended to a year prior. 

You stopped as you looked up at him, your eyes flashing with recognition as you took in the tall boy standing before you with your volleyball in his hands. You swallowed thickly, fiddling with the hem of your black t-shirt. 

He handed you the volleyball. “Here you go.” 

“…Thanks.” You hesitantly took it from his hands and hugged it to your stomach. You stared at him warily for a moment before turning around to head back into the gym. 

“You play volleyball?” He asked suddenly, shocking you as you were not expecting him to make small talk. 

You turned to face him again and nodded. “Yeah… My dad is a fan, so as soon as I was old enough to play, he signed me up for lessons,” You said. 

There was a pause, and he could tell by the awkward look in your eyes that you were debating on if you should share more or not. In the end, you caved. 

“I’m not that good. So I mainly just play because it’s fun.” You shrugged. "...I should get back to practice.” 

You left before he could get another word out. Later that day, when you were walking home from practice, you saw Nagi again— this time walking out of his house. His eyes met yours, and you both stared at one another in surprise. You lived in the same neighborhood. 

You never went as far as to consider that you and Nagi were friends. Not at first, at least. You never had friends— not after your reputation of being a short-tempered, fight-starter circulated around the school. Even your volleyball team was not a fan of you, despite the fact that you were surprisingly good when it came to teamwork. 

Everyone was inclined to stay away from you. Either out of fear or hatred, you weren’t sure. But as time passed, you came to accept being the loner who always ended up in the principal’s office. 

That was until Nagi offered you a can of soda after your failed attempt of getting the faulty vending machine to work. It was late in the afternoon on a Friday in Spring of your first year of high school. Up until that point, the two of you only interacted at odd times when you just so happened to come across each other in the halls or walking out of your houses. 

No words were ever shared between you, only slight nods of the head and small waves in greeting. Now, though, Nagi was taking a seat next to you on the staircase, placing a can of soda next to your foot. He pulled out his phone, loaded up a game, and handed it to you. 

“Wanna play?” 

You blinked at him in surprise, before nodding. You got past four levels in the game before dying, letting out a groan of frustration. He leaned over your shoulder, watching the screen intently. Occasionally, he’d chime in with a word of advice, or ask if you wanted him to do that level for you. You two sat there on that staircase for what felt like hours, before a staff member came and told you to leave. 

After that day, you would meet on the stairs everyday after your volleyball practices, playing that very same game together and attempting to outdo each other’s high scores. This routine continued, until one day you invited him to the park with you to play there. 

You didn’t consider Nagi Seishiro a friend at first. But now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

© 2024 mikashisus.

[digiflora]

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🫀 )

there's a certain beauty and pain in being with someone carnally, and nothing more than that

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | friends with benefits, more angst than smut, like this is basically all angst no smut lol, kinda short too mb

header art (left to right) by pcrow ; artsquirre ; _sekidesu

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ being in a situationship is all fun and games until u catch feelings fr 😕. anyways. let's go thru that pain in this. lowkey i wanna make a part 2 to this with a happy ending cos im SOFT lmaooo

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ALHAITHAM.

BEING IN... WHATEVER THIS RELATIONSHIP COULD BE CLASSIFIED AS was not good for your mental health. in the past weeks that you and alhaitham had started sleeping together, you had been plunged into one of the worst emotional rollercoasters that you had ever been on.

what didn't help was the way he treated you so differently depending on the setting. you understood not wanting people to know, but did he have to ignore you entirely in public?

he wouldn't even spare you a glance as you walk past each other in the halls, eyes stubbornly trained ahead, leaving you steamrolled in his icy trail. and if you dare to try and talk to him- he'd look at you like you've grown a second head, completely shunning you and walking away as quickly as possible.

but it's a different story behind closed doors- in private, he's the sweetest man alive.

he'll whisper such sweet nothings into your ear, wipe your tears so tenderly with his thumbs like a lover would. he'd prop himself up with an elbow just so that he can gaze into your eyes as he pushes into you, even smiling at you as he watches the way your expression changes.

and the way he kisses you is what really throws you- always with such desperation and urgency, like he needs you in order to breathe when it's quite the opposite. he kisses you like he loves you, and the sensation is dizzying, perplexing when those fantasies are ripped from you in favour of reality.

but you know that you won't ever be his. not properly.

if it was meant to be, he'd at least smile at you as he passed. the more rational parts of your brain screamed at you to call it quits before you're sucked in too deep, but some part of you still held onto the hope that one day he would see you then smile.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 THOMA.

IT TRULY HURT TO REMEMBER THAT you weren't actually dating thoma. it was easy to get fooled- he was a gentleman, making sure to treat you right even when you weren't fucking. he'd make sure that you were okay, and he never kicked you out as soon as it was over.

he'd ask about your day, take interest in you and what you're doing. and arguably, worst of all, he wasn't afraid to be seen with you. the details that blurred the lines defining your relationship seemed like an afterthought, if the way his arm wrapped around your shoulders indicated anything.

you were his, unofficially or not. it only took a glance to be able to tell.

you liked to think that he was yours, too. that you meant something to him- more than just a pastime and a stress reliever.

there were moments where it was easier to believe it- with the way his eyes remain transfixed on you as you writhe in pleasure, cries of his name leaving your lips- his little coos and reassurances buttering you up, having you right in his palm, so pliant and willing for him.

maybe he got off on knowing that he makes you feel good in every sense of the word. seeing you happy acting as some sort of foreplay, all so he can claim you as his in every way except the one that you wanted most.

the urge to tell him how you feel, those three little words that dangle on the tip of your tongue and fight to be freed, are a constant struggle. but something inside you, some sick gut instinct, stopped you from blurting it out every time.

the fear of his reaction- disgust? confusion? kept you uncertain. a part of you would die if he didn't reciprocate your feelings. it was better not to know, and keep living in the make-belief of being his without the label.

you could only hope that you would be proved wrong one day.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 WRIOTHESLEY.

DESPITE EVERYTHING, YOU COULDN'T HELP BUT crawl back to him every single time. a never-ending cycle- one that you couldn't escape even if you wanted to.

both of you knew how it goes. you unblock him, play coy for a few messages before he's telling you to come over. you fuck like it's the last time you ever will- it never is- and then you spend the night.

he'll hold you, play with your hair, even kiss you, and you pretend that it's enough. if you're lucky, he'll even lend you a shirt that smells of him to sleep in.

and this facade is fine- while it lasts. but then you remember why you blocked him in the first place- the forced indifference, his refusal to open up. the way it hurt your heart to be pushed aside.

and then you go and ask him what you mean to him. he'll smile at you without mirth, the both of you knowing how this conversation goes. he doesn't want anything serious. you want more.

and then it's tears, you ripping off his shirt and throwing it back at him, storming out of his place and blocking his number with shaking fingers.

you cry yourself to sleep in your cold and empty bed- already sorely missing the warmth of his body as he holds you close to him in his sleep, whether he's aware of that or not.

and you're fine, you tell yourself. you can live without him. and you do, for a little while. honestly, he's the last thing on your mind as you distract yourself with work or seeing your friends.

but then a lonely night gets the best of you, abd you find your finger hovering over the call button next to his name. and you press it, cursing yourself for doing it.

he picks up at the third ring, voice smug as if he knew you couldn't go much longer without him.

and he's right, unfortunately.

you're already out the door, on the way to his apartment.

𝜗𝜚 genshin impact masterlist

[soulemnity]

Hi!!! I was reading your latest ASL comic and i was wondering how Luffy would react when Ace said they were going to fight Whitebeard, and Ace was defeated

I imagine Luffy protecting Ace from the big old man, like "leave my brother alone, you bully!"

And more importantly, when Ace is isolated from his crew, what would happen to Luffy? Would Ace become part of the WB crew with Luffy there?

Sorry for the amount of questions but i really love ASL with little Luffy, and I have been reading a lot of fan fics like this. YOUR ART IS SO CUTE, THANKS YOU FOR SHARING!!

THANKYU SO MYCH, IM HAPPY U LIKE IT !!!!!

the comic is actually sorta the start of the split custody variant of babylu me and @immortal-raine made !!! when sabo and ace split off (cuz i wanted sabo to still be a rev), their plan is to pass luffy between them every two or so months because 1) it’s fun for him and 2) at least he’s not alone at dawn

before ace challenges whitebeard, he orders sabo to take him for an extra two months. he doesnt elaborate on what he’s gonna do, but sabo knows better than that, so he makes ace lower it to a month and a half and if he isnt back by then, he’s going off to find him and taking luffy with so you better be smart if you don’t want that kind of worry on your conscience, ace

n e ways the deadline passes, ace very obviously did not return, so sabo, fueled by worry and frustration because he’s making luffy sad damn it, sneaks off to find him. luffy’s so distressed by his missed time with ace that he actually listens to what sabo tells him to do and stays hidden

ace is very obviously still in his assassination phase when they show up. sabo, who is mortified that he managed to get himself stuck on an emperor’s ship, without his crew, drags him off to hide

luffy cries a little. ace cries a little because he made luffy cry and also he really missed his brothers. luffy’s stuck to his hip

for a while after sabo decides to stick by ace’s side to make sure he stays safe, luffy is surprisingly dismissive towards anyone other than his brothers. he’s okay with thatch, because he feeds them good, but he actively forces himself to ignore how fun they seem because they made ace upset and his brothers are always first. it’s kind of painful to watch because he’s so determined but also kind of miserable, but he refuses to play with them unless they either apologize or ace and sabo explicitly state they’re okay with them. he’s not built for holding grudges but he tries for their sake

of course, ace stops his assassination attempts when his brothers show up, so he gets the time to observe them better. sabo never leaves his side for the months he’s struggling with his thoughts and decisions, and for that he’s grateful. it’s sabo who ultimately pushes him to join because, after being here so long, he obviously enjoys their company

the day ace and sabo announce that they’re even and ace will join is the day the whitebeards first witness the hurricane that is a restless, understimulated luffy

[earthsparked]

IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO DAMN LONG!!! THIS IDEA ATE AT ME AND SUDDENLY THERE WERE OVER 1K WORDS ON MY SCREEN!!

Been thinking about how there are many earth organisms that will pretend to be dead or fake an injury (distraction display), and humans are nothing if not theatrical and creative. We have a whole art of horror dedicated to fake gore and looking dead (or ‘undead’). 

---

“I volunteer as tribute!” You say with glee, standing on your tippy toes as if it will help in any way. “Let me help!”

Every mech in the room swivels to your small form in horror. 

“No!” They all shout, nearly clambering over each other to dissuade you from doing something foolish.

But as the situation becomes more dire, the bots begin to discuss amongst themselves about what the next steps are and how they can best keep you safe. The coterie patch on your jacket will stop you from becoming a target, but if the base continues to take damage like this, who’s to say if you’re really safe here. They’ve only been on planetside for a few days, but according to their records, there’s a research camp nearby that has previously housed a couple of humans. One of the mechs can hopefully speed by undetected and drop you and a bunch of supplies off nearby, before returning to the fight. 

They all vote in agreement, much to your complete dismay. The feeling of being abandoned by your cohort runs through your body like an icy plunge. You spend the next, precious, few minutes yelling and trying to make a case for yourself, but to no avail. They still think you’re weak.

‘Soft.’ They say. ‘Delicate. Precious. Adorable.” 

Hah! Precious? Yeah right. It seems they would rather leave you to the elements of some random planet than grant you the dignity of going down with them. 

“I can help!” You cry out again. You just want a chance. Why won’t they let you at least try? Why do you always have to keep proving yourself to them? Why can’t they just trust you like you trust them? What’s the point of the contract if they don’t even want you around?

You can feel your face heat up and the grounding pain of your nails digging into the soft flesh of your palms. You don’t say anything as hot tears threaten to spill. How could they?! 

-

You’re silent while being transported by the mech you consider to be your best friend. With arms and legs firmly crossed, a simmering pout drags down your face. Scrappy rests on your lap, softly chittering. Among the emergency supplies, you packed a bunch of MRE rations and a big bottle of hot sauce to make them palatable. 

You begin to open one while still inside their interior, just to be spiteful. Small crumbs scatter everywhere as you struggle with the foil seal. Sandwiching the amalgamation of bread and mystery protein together, you pop the cap of your favorite condiment and drench the poor meal. 

Suddenly, the world tilts, and you choke on your bite. A ringing fills your ears as you scrunch your eyes closed and heave violently. You get two seconds of a clear airway before the rush of wind steals it.

Scrappy saves you from the brunt of the fall as you are thrown, facefirst, out of the bot. Landing hard on your stomach and skidding a few feet, you wince as the bottle shatters between you and your scraplet. Glass pokes through the material of your shirt and stabs into your skin. Immediately sensing your injury, your pet folds in on itself and wriggles under your clothing. 

The dust starts to settle while you feel tiny, sharp teeth pull the shrapnel from your flesh. Pressing a hand to hold their warm form against you, you curl onto your side and see your friend laying, unresponsive, on the ground. Smoke rises from several holes in their armor. Horrified, you feel your world narrow, and your eyes dart around for the offender. 

It’s another cybertronian. Their form towers over the both of you, and you can feel each smug step through the floor as they slowly approach. Adrenaline dumps into your body as you take in the monster that just hurt your friend. Your family! Distantly, you can hear the others through your communicator informing you that help is on the way.  

Time. You need to buy time. 

Quickly thinking, you obnoxiously groan as you drag yourself to your feet. Slumped forward in pain, you twist your neck at an odd angle and regard the enemy with a calculated glare. 

Dramatically stumbling forward, you whimper and cry out loudly. The bot turns away from your mech and sneers down at you.

“Eww. I didn’t know they were carrying an organic.” They gag.

Limping further from your friend, you start to purposely twitch and spasm. Every so often, you’d pretend to go boneless, nearly toppling to the floor, only to swiftly catch yourself in odd lunges.  

“Hey, uh, what’s wrong with you?” The assailant questions wearily.

The front of your shirt is soaked with blood. Already the wounds have healed, thanks to Scrappy, who wriggles under the wet fabric in a way that makes the enemy take a few steps back.

“Eugghhhh.” You moan, lumbering closer and closer. “I don’t feel so good.”

The moment you make them fully turn their back on your mech, you plunge forward with a wet, gargling gasp. On the ground in front of them, a few paces from their pedes, you inhale as much air as you can into your lungs and SCREAM!!!!!

Thanks to the endlessly entertaining reactions of your cohort, you’ve been working hard on your flexibility. With practised ease, you flip yourself into a backbend and press your abdomen into the air. Startled by your sudden theatrics, Scrappy rips through the front of your shirt, causing the remnants of your sandwich and globs of hot sauce to go everywhere. You let out another, final scream, cutting off halfway and collapsing to the ground at an unnatural angle. 

“Eat.” You whisper, making a hidden handmotion to go with the command. Just for fun, you stick out your tongue and regard the bot above you with glassy eyes.

With an ear-piercing shriek, the assailant transforms and tries to run away, only to run directly into the cavalry. They are quickly dealt with, and your family comes running over to you. 

You pick yourself up with ease and whistle for Scrappy to return to your side. As you look down at the state of yourself, everyone rushes to crowd over you, feeling your tiny EM field spike suddenly with stress.  “Dude” You whine, with nearly as much emotion as when you earlier thought they wanted to discard you. “I really liked this shirt.”

[queenpiranhadon]

Hey hey

I wanted to request a dad aizawa x singer daughter :))

She is his only and biological daughter and wanted since she was little to become a singer and musician but never told Aizawa becase she thought he would told her to become a hero, and one day he finds her singing and playing an dificult instrumen.

Thankss

A/N: HIII IM SORRY THIS MIGHT BE KINDA BAD BC I HAVENT HAD A HEART TO HEART WITH MY DAD IN A WHILE LOLLL Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): reader uses she/her pronouns, slight cursing, inaccurate Japanese translations lol, violin terms bc I'm a violinist :), reader's biological mom is dead, Aizawa became a dad at 19 - he's like 34 in this jsyk, reader's 15-16 yrs old, mentions of being disowned, fluff, mentions of depression and death, Kae makes a really bad pun, hime means princess in Japanese

Pairing(s): Shota Aizawa x daughter f!reader (PLATONIC)

Link to the song in this fic~

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴍᴀᴛꜱᴜʀɪ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

“Goddamnit!” you groan, as you fiddle with your violin. (LMAO PUN!! sorry) 

Your fingers ached, as you tried to nail down the pizzicato run at the top of the page. However, your fingers refused to move with the fluency they used you, and you felt the calluses starting to develop on the surface of your fingertips. 

Self-teaching yourself to play the violin was a pain in the ass, but you were determined to go to a performing arts school once you graduated junior high. 

The only problem? 

Your father was Shota Aizawa, underground pro hero Eraser Head, and was not only a pro, but also a teacher at UA High School- one of the top schools for pro heroes in training. 

You loved your father to the ends of the earth, as he did you, considering your small family only consisted of the two of you, your mother having died during childbirth. Aizawa, only 19 at the time, struggled with the loss of his lover, but you helped him get through it. 

You were his pride and joy, the perfect combination of his love and himself, his precious daughter. 

Nothing you could do could make him hate you. 

And you knew that, but your insecurities were bigger. 

What if he wanted you to become a pro hero like him? 

In all honesty, you didn’t see that future for yourself. It was an honorable job, one that you knew was very important, and a job many children wished to have in the future, and yet, that was never your dream. 

Pro heroes went out every day, fighting with their lives on the line, patrols constantly, dealing with paparazzi, not to mention the

paperwork

. 

It wasn’t that you weren’t ambitionless, no, certainly not, but it wasn’t something you found passion in. 

But to be fair, if you were successful in your career path, there would sure be a lot of paparazzi either way. 

You were set on following a path into the performing arts, but it was always a little disheartening whenever you heard your Uncle Hizashi or Auntie Nemuri go “Awww Y/N! You’re going to be an amazing pro hero when you’re older, so kind and so determined” 

You knew they meant well, but still. 

Sighing you set down your violin, gently setting it down in your case and safely securing you bow in before tucking it underneath your bed. That’s where most of your instrumental arsenal lived, all compact and tucked away, awaiting your every musical whim. 

You worked tirelessly to earn enough money for each of your instruments for the past two years, combing through online marketplaces and sales to find decently priced quality instruments. 

Grabbing your keyboard and setting it up, your fingers find their way to ivory keys that played a sequence you knew well. 

The notes left your fingers immediately, music filling your bedroom walls as a stream of tunes flow like a waterfall, smooth and connected, and yet, somehow still intense in its own way. 

Music is a form of communication, you always thought. The right notes paired together convey moods, thoughts, feelings. It always amazed you how something as simple as sequential pitches could convey something words never could. 

Ai shika kanjitaku mo nai (I don't want to feel anything but love) you sang, letting yourself get lost in the music. 

Mou nan no wakehedate mo na (There's no difference anymore)

Matomete kakatte kinasai (Please call all at once)

Ima nara subete uketomeru kara (I'll accept everything now)

~

You finish the song with a resounding chord, the room eerily quiet without any music flowing through it, until a slow clap breaks the silence. 

“Well, what do we have here?” 

You jump in surprise, scrambling away from the keyboard to see your father standing in the doorway of your room, the look on his face unreadable. 

You turn bright red and feel your heart sink. 

You never told your father about your dreams and aspirations for the future- what would be say now? 

You steel yourself, taking in a deep breath. 

Calm down, Y/N. He wouldn’t disown you because you don’t want to be a pro. And plus, it’s my life! I should have a say in what I want to do. You think to yourself. 

“Dad, I don’t want to be a pro hero...” you mumble out, refusing to look at him. “I want to be a musician, or a singer! I really like music and it just...really makes me happy.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you think with a sinking heart that he’s furious, but then a chuckle is heard, almost deafening in the silent room. 

“Oh, thank god.” he exhales in relief, leaving you staring at him, dumbfounded. 

“Y-You’re not mad...?” you ask, extremely confused. 

“Oh no, of course not hime - don't even think that. I'm so sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me anything. ” he says, and you’re put at ease. “Everyday, pro heroes go through pain and hardships to try to save the people of this world.” 

He sighs “Many pros lose their sanity and fall into an abyss of depression and despair because it’s too much for them. “he looks at you, his eyes genuine and sincere. “I don’t want that life for you.” 

You hug him, and his arms wrap around you comfortingly. 

“I love you dad.” 

“I love you too, hime.” 

Then he pulls away with a sly grin on his face. “So, you gonna show me what you’ve been working on?” 

Your face flushes and you shove his arm playfully. 

“Dad!” 

[beddybites]

About our tiny king, Babynai, does he have teeth while baby? Or does he start teething? Idk I'm sitting in bed it's almost 3am and I keep thinking abt Babynai amd stuff and this thought is stuck in my mind😭

Imagine Giyuu or Sanemi putting up with his crying at any time when he's teething, poor baby (and parents)😭 OR HIM WITH LIKE A CHEWING TOY OR WHATEVER TO HELP HIM TEETH! He's so cute I'm sobbing🥹

Also, I don't know if you still like the 21yo trio as babies, it's okay if not I'm just wondering if you will continue them (like draw them or anything) in the future? Me personally loved the ideo of those three being babies together, they are so chaotic and adorable🥹 But I love ALL of your art, not just the baby ones😭 Your art is so.. comforting and just good to look at. I can't even describe it with words but it just looks so pleasing and neat and gives a warm calming feeling to me. You have such a good artstyle, they all look so adorable and fluffy!💖 I love to just scroll on your page and just look at your drawing over and over. When I'm done with school the first thing I check when I get my phone is if you posted something (I've told this in another like, anonymous ask or i don't know what it's called on tumblr) but your art always gives me peace after a rough and depressing day in school (I'm sorry if I'm being too much, I really am😓) I just felt like I can't sleep without telling you again how much I admire your work and time you put into giving us so many arts, doodles animations and headcanons, I appreciate you so much, you made my whole 2024 better. I will forever be your fan and can't wait to show your art to my future kids after I made them watch kny!🔥

Have a nice day/night🫶🏻🫶🏻 (sorry again for writing this much, I hope it's not a bother)

hi anon!!! first of all this is so freaking swwet oh my god?????? ive been feeling rlly awful and pesstimisric about my work as a whole so opening tumblr and seeing this cheered me up a ton and im rlly so so so grateful for u taking the time to send me this msg let alone enjoy my art to begin with 🥹🥹 i hope ur doing absolutely amazingly!!

in response to tiny 21 trio: yes! i do plan on drawing them again eventually, im just taking a bit of a hiatus from that au for the time being!

in response to babynai: poor guy! definitely experiences teething all over again and the poor thing is in a lot of pain bcuz of it );

i also think he struggles because he still has his mouth scar in this au, so he generally has some mouth pain, which means he gets lots of love and support. mitsuri ABSOLUTELY spoils the heck out of him every time she gets to take care of him. sanemi and giyuu get him lots of teething toys. shinobu gives him check ups and such, ubayashiki family find him the best medicine and resources. gyomei lets the babynai teeth at his finger or shirt so it can calm him down. etc etc etc

all the hashira are very supportive and take care of him a lot!

at the same time obi ends up getting lots of reassurance from kaburamaru. those two have “fangs” together for a bit and it makes obi happy to be like his best buddy

[doveentrails]

Heaven Can't Be Sweeter Than This (Chapter 3)

Word count: 5500 Summary: You continue getting to know Art, and you hear from someone unexpected. Content warning: brief mention of drugs, cutting within the context of kink Full Chapter List taglist: @mandmilovehim @hornyslasher @whisper-ocean @tisaruo

Sunlight slants through the window, falling onto your pillow, and Mia cries wantingly at your side. You groan and turn over. Morning has come too soon. You didn’t sleep nearly as well last night. No delicious sex dreams, just incessant questions about Art. He wasn’t the whole reason you couldn’t sleep, just the primary focus of your waking thoughts. You knew you were due for a rough night after how well you had slept the night before. You never get lucky twice.

Reluctantly, you get out of bed and feed Mia her breakfast. In the bathroom you nearly nod off again, but you will yourself awake. Thankfully, coffee is next. The warm liquid fills your mug, and you drink it in with appreciation. It’s another gorgeous day. Your jog is a brisk jaunt, and soon you’re showered, changed and ready for work.

You boot up your computer and pull up the daily workflow. Immediately, you can tell it’s going to be a somewhat irritating day. Your inbox is twice as full as usual, and you struggle to sort through the messages. Of course, people love to overuse the urgent marker on their emails, so you have a fun thirty minutes discerning what is actually urgent.

Then it’s time for the morning meeting. You’re reminded about a conference next weekend that you had hoped to skip out on. Your team lead updates you that attendance is no longer optional, and your entire department will be expected to attend or use PTO. Great. 

Then someone lays into you about not staying on top of your inbox, and you want to scream ‘how am I supposed to know what to prioritize if EVERYTHING is marked urgent?’.You grovel instead, wishing you had more of a backbone when it came to work. The truth is, you just try to stay invisible, and you take things like this on the chin when you have to, always apologizing profusely. For some reason, you don’t want to know what Art would think of that habit. 

You want to become a sexier, more mysterious version of yourself, but you know you shouldn’t try too hard to impress him. He seems to like you just fine as it is. After the way you talked last night, you’re really starting to feel sold on him. After just a couple conversations you’re already dipping your toes (no pun intended) into the S&M territory. It pleases you to say the least. You pick up your coffee mug, too lost in thought, and it sloshes onto your lap. Fucking nice. You’re already over today.

Over the course of the morning, you untangle the mess that is your inbox, responding to reports that have already been resolved and playing lengthy games of phone tag. A headache builds between your temples. You wish all pain were created equal because there’s nothing nice about it. Over lunch you complain to one of your coworkers via IM about the mandatory conference. She agrees with you, and you exchange a few messages, leaving you at least feeling validated, if not still put out by the whole thing. 

The afternoon is a bigger drag than the morning. You’re kept busy by a data breach, left playing damage control and putting out fires. It’s an intensive afternoon that leaves you spent. Once you’re off the clock, you pour yourself a double brandy (no ice). The headache you were feeling has ramped up since the early afternoon, and you go lay down in bed. You take your drink with you and draw the blinds. Closing your eyes feels absolutely heavenly.

As you’re beginning to relax, your cellphone rings. You reach for it, aggravated. It’s Nic.

“Hey,” you answer, rubbing the bridge of your nose as you adjust to sitting up.

“Hey babe, what’s up,” Nic comes through the phone sounding chipper.

“Nothing really, I just have the biggest headache,” you tell him. “It started this afternoon.”

“That’s a bitch,” he sympathizes.

“Today was awful honestly,” you vent, “So many crises. I didn’t have a second of down time, AND I found out that conference next weekend is apparently no longer optional.”

“Oh gross,” Nic’s tone is derisive as he adds, “All those tech people in one place. Bound to be a great time.”

“Hey,” you warn.

“You and I both know you’re an exception,” he laughs, “You can actually carry a conversation.”

“Speaking of which,” he changes the subject on a dime, “How goes talking with the kinky internet man?”

You blush.

“Well, he’s not boring,” you tell Nic.

“That sounds promising,” he gushes, “I want details.”

“You can’t always get what you want,” you sing-song back at him.

“Literally, you haven’t even told me his name,” Nic huffs.

“His name’s Art,” you inform. “And he’s been a lot of fun to talk to,” you add with a smile.

“Ooooh, Art,” Nic says, testing it out. “When do I get to meet him?”

“Dear god, relax,” you say with an audible eye-roll. “I don’t even know when I’m going to meet him.”

“Well you better make him prove to you he’s not a catfish,” Nic chides. 

“He’s not pretending to be anyone,” you spit back, annoyed.

“Look,” Nic changes his tone, but still sounds a bit holier than thou, “I’m just trying to look out for you. You never know who you could be talking to.”

“I’m not worried about it,” you assure.

“Well, just be careful,” Nic tells you.

“I will, I will,” you concede. “It’s not like he knows where I live or anything.”

“Sorry for being a buzzkill,” Nic apologizes, then after a pause. “I do hope he’s hot.”

“Me too,” you laugh. “Listen I’m gonna let you go, my head is still killing me. Thanks for checking in.”

“Fair enough,” says Nic, “I’ll talk to you later. Love you!”

“Love you too,” you answer, then hang up the phone and flop back on the bed.

Nic’s demand for information has always been a little taxing on you. He’s discerning to say the least, and he always has a judgement to pass. There’s certain things, like Art, that you’d just rather not hear his opinion on. Still, you know his concern is coming from a good place and you appreciate it. 

You lay in bed a while longer and accidentally fall asleep, letting your mind wander. Your thoughts transform into dreams without you realizing. You wake with a start after 7:30, your brandy long forgotten on the bedside table. Your heart jumps in your chest when you see the time. Immediately, you throw yourself off the bed and dash to the computer to type a message to Art.

Fancy meeting you here, sorry I’m late

Right on time, you see Art typing back to you.

Art: It’s okay, and the pleasure’s mine.

What a perfect opening. You take his mention of pleasure for all it’s worth and then some.

Is it? I’ve been wondering about that…

You’re so eager to get into this with him. No, ‘hey, how was your day?’, instead you’re jumping right to ‘so, what gets you off?’. You can’t help it.

Art: About what?

What you’re into…

Art: What I’m into?

Yeah, like what gets you going? What do you like?

You’re not sure what to expect.

Art: I like hurting people.

Hot, but much like he questioned you in your first conversation, you want to know more.

I want to understand. What do you like the most?

Art: Blood, struggle, when they try to get away.

A million images flash through your mind as you read and reread his words, and you want to be on the receiving end of all of them.

That’s really kinky. You like to chase people down?

Art: Yes.

What would you do once you caught me?

You’re nearly giggling as you watch him type.

Art: I’m not sure that you’d like it.

I think that I would.

I really want to meet you.

Art: What else do you want?

I want to meet you, and I want you to hurt me, to do all the things you like to do…

I want you to make me beg you to stop.

Begging has always really done it for you. You’re stubborn though, you want it to be real. Even Liz couldn’t get you to beg.

Art: Do you think that I would?

I guess I don’t know.

These mind games are too hot. You need to meet him. You could play imagine this and that all night, but you want the real thing.

Art: I’ll give you what you want.

I can’t wait.

Art: You might have to. 

Why’s that? 🙁

Your heart falls. Is Nic right? Are you being catfished? Maybe Art has no intention of ever meeting you face to face.

Art: I like talking with you here.

I like talking with you too.

I can be patient.

You don’t want to push the subject too hard.

Art: Okay. I hope you don’t go anywhere.

I don’t plan on it.

Art: That’s good.

Art: I’d like to meet you, when the time’s right. 

You can’t wait. You feel like you’re being put up to some sort of test. When will the time be right?

I can leave it up to you

Art: I do want to give you what you want.

I’m sure you will.

Still curious to learn more about what he’s into, you decide to press further with your questions.

So what else do you like… blood?

Art: Yes.

The look? The taste?

You think about your own blood running down your wrist yesterday, catching it in your mouth.

Art: Yes.

Art: The feeling.

You’ve never thought much about the feeling of blood. You aren’t sure what to say, so you type out a dumb reply. 

Haha, yeah, slippery…

Art: It’s a good feeling.

An image conjures in your mind of being totally drenched, slick with blood, skin against skin. It doesn’t put you off, but you shiver. 

I don’t think I’m as familiar as you are

Art: Probably not.

Art: But that’s okay.

He must be into some serious stuff, you think.

And you like when people struggle?

Art: I like that a lot.

Art: It’s exciting. 

You wonder for the first time what he’s talking about. What kind of struggle? Have you been blowing past red flags? You decide to read it in good faith and assume you’re on the same playing field.

I think so too.

I want to struggle for you, to try to get away, maybe I almost do…

Art: That’s the best part.

Art: Almost getting away.

Yeah?

Art: They’re so close. They light up with hope.

Art: Then to see it drain from their eyes, that’s the best part.

Wow

Art: What?

I just really like talking like this with you

I’ve never really talked with anyone like this

Art: Me neither.

I still find that hard to believe

Art: It’s true.

The way you say things is just so different from the people I’m used to talking to.

You’re so different

Art: I hope that’s good.

It really is

I want to pick your brain moreeee

I want to know what goes on in your head…

You don’t just want to know, you feel like you need to know.

Art: Haha

Art: That made me laugh.

Don’t laugh at me, I’ll cryyy ☹️

Art: You can find out if you really want to know.

Art: I like taking my time.

I can tell

I don’t mind, it’s sexy

Art: Hm that’s good to know.

You chuckle at his response. You feel like he’s taking notes or something, studying you.

See, like that. you’re so strange, in a good way ofc

Art: Thank you.

Art: I think you’re a little strange too.

Well, thank you 🙂

Art: Talk tomorrow?

Absolutely.

You close out of the chat, a huge smile spread across your face. Truly, things couldn’t be going better. It seems like you’ve found your weirdo. He’s intense and cryptic, but you realize that’s kind of what you’ve been missing. You replay your conversation with Art over and over. All you can think about is blood and struggle. It excites you and chills you at the same time. What if you’ve met someone willing to go further than you? You didn’t think that would happen.

You’ve talked so late and you’re so worn out from your day, you decide to just skip dinner and get ready for bed. As you brush your teeth, images of running away, being captured and forced into submission play through your mind. That specifically has never been something you’re particularly into, but now you can’t stop thinking about it. You’ve also never had a sexy online stranger proposition to chase you down before. Apparently, you’re up for it. 

You had made it your goal to learn more about Art tonight, but somehow you feel like you’re left with even more questions than answers. They gnaw at the inside of your mind while you get ready for bed. Are you totally in over your head? Before you can wonder any further, you're pulled from your thoughts by your ringing cell phone. You assume it’s Nic again, but you're surprised when you check the caller ID.

Liz.

Panic floods your body and your heart drops. You so don’t want to answer. You know her though, and you know there’s no avoiding this conversation. She won’t leave you alone if you try to dodge her. So, you answer the call, saying nothing, just letting out a small cough while your heartbeat jumps in your throat.

“Hey,” Liz says, plain and dry, betraying no emotion.

“Um, hey,” you answer, feeling as though you’re no longer in your body. “Why are you calling?” It comes out a little hostile, and you mean for it to. It’s been almost a year now. She left you hanging, completely cut you off, and now she’s calling out of the blue. You’re definitely entitled to be on the offensive here.

“Funny you should ask,” Liz says, still keeping her tone clipped.

“What does that mean?” you ask, not bothering to keep the edge of annoyance out of your voice. Beneath it there’s a churning core of worry. You genuinely have no idea what she’s getting at.

“I show up at one of the old bars we used to go to, and the bartender treats me cold. The regulars are side-eyeing me. What’s that about?” She’s talking faster now, frenetic energy running through her voice.

“Why the hell would I know?” You keep your voice flat and even, not wanting to feed the fire you can hear building on the other end of the line.

“Why the hell would I know?” Liz mocks you. “I’ll tell you why. Because you were there talking shit about me. Telling everyone a  sob story, weren’t you?”

“No,” you assert, “I wasn’t.” You’re getting mad now. You knew it would be just a matter of time before she got under your skin. You knew you shouldn’t have picked up the phone.

“Bullshit,” spits Liz.

“It’s not bullshit,” you can’t keep the anger out of your voice. “Why would I be going around talking about you? You really think you’re still that important to me?”

“I know I am,” Liz is yelling, “I know you can’t resist a pity party. You want to make me the bad guy. You’re always the victim.”

“What is this really about?” You raise your voice to match her’s. “You go to a bar and get treated shitty, and that’s somehow my fault?”

“I just want to know what you’re saying about me,” she continues. “That I cheated on you? That I was an awful girlfriend? What?” You can’t help but notice how fast she’s talking.

“Look,” you manage to regain some composure, “I’m not talking about you. Honestly, I try to not even think about you.” She would get like this sometimes when she was on coke you remember, aggressive and paranoid. 

“I think you’re a lying bitch,” Liz sounds hysterical now. You realize there may be no talking her down from this.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” you tell her in a low, even voice, “I don’t know what you took, or why you felt the need to call me, but I’d appreciate it if you left me alone.”

“Oh you think I took something?” She yells. It sounds like she’s moving around the room, her voice fading in and out. “Is that what you’re telling people? That I’m a drug addict? That’s great.”

“No,” you say through gritted teeth, “I’m not telling anyone anything about you.”

“Well I don’t think twice about you either,” her voice is venomous. “You’re nothing to me.” Her words feel like a punch to the gut. 

“If that’s true then why the fuck are you calling me right now?” You can’t help but get wrapped up in her theatrics.

“Forget I did, you lying bitch!” Liz screams into the phone.

“Lose this number,” you yell back, and you hang up the phone with shaking hands.

The adrenaline from the heated conversation swirls through your body, and you’re left feeling sick to your stomach. You feel a sob building in your chest. You wish you weren’t about to cry over something so stupid, but you can’t stop the tears as they come.

Liz meant a lot to you. She was a world of firsts. But she had a dark side, and that’s who you were just on the phone with. You know it. You could hear it in her voice that she was strung out on something, not thinking clearly. Why did she have to call? Now you’re stuck drowning in memories as they come washing back over you like a tidal wave.

You lay in your bed and cry, knowing you won’t be able to sleep tonight. 

***

After hours of staring at the ceiling and watching soft grey light slowly bleed into the sky outside, you pick up your laptop and type a message to Art. You’re not sure what you're even hoping to achieve. You just don’t want to be alone.

Sorry, I know you probably aren’t up. I had a shitty night after we talked and I just wanted to try messaging you.

Don’t worry about replying.

Several minutes go by, and you stare at the screen dejectedly, not expecting anything. To your surprise the typing icon appears next to Art’s name.

Art: What happened?

Your spirits lift. You thought the odds of hearing back from him at 5am would be slim to none.

Hey, I didn’t think I’d hear from you 🙂

Why are you up?

Art: I don’t sleep much.

Yeah, I have problems sleeping too.

thanks for replying.

Art: Of course.

I heard from my ex, the whole thing was so stupid

I hadn’t heard from her for months and she called me accusing me of a bunch of stupid shit.

Art: Why would she do that?

She likes the attention I think, I don’t know, I don’t even want to think about her.

Art: That’s okay.

Art: You can think about me.

That’s what I’d strongly prefer.

I’m glad you’re so uncomplicated.

Art: I try to be.

Relationships are just so hard. They get so messy.

Art: I’ve never been great at them.

It feels revealing to have him confess this to you. You hold onto his admission like a treasure, trying to use it to piece together a picture of just who you’re talking to. His words make you want to reassure him.

That’s okay, I’m not here to ask you for anything

I like what you’re giving me.

Art: I don’t know if anyone has ever told me that.

Well I like it a lot.

You don’t have to change anything.

And you mean it. 

Art: Okay. I won’t.

Hehe, good.

I’m gonna go get ready for work now,

I’ll talk to you later tonight.

Art: Okay, talk then. 

You close your laptop with a small smile, feeling quite a bit better. The next order of business is to make your way into the kitchen and brew some coffee. Mia is confused by your being awake so early, and she chirps sleepily at you from the couch. Immediately, she jumps up and is circling your feet for breakfast. You feed her and then pour yourself a mug of coffee.

You’re never up this early, so you sit on the couch and try to enjoy it. Liz’s tirade is still fresh in your mind. You have half the heart to look her up, she who she’s hanging around nowadays, but you know it will only serve to hurt you more. Part of you is genuinely worried for her. She sounded really messed up last night. She had to have been if she’d resorted to calling you after six solid months of no contact. A mix of personal pity, concern for her wellbeing and utter vexation swirl inside your mind.

You sip your coffee and scroll social media, passing an hour surprisingly quickly. Then you change, stretch, and head outside for your jog. It’s overcast. The sun tries, but fails to shine through the stringy, grey clouds that layer the sky. You don’t mind it. It’s still nice weather for a run. You think about how glad you were that Art messaged you. Talking to him always puts you in a better mood. Hopefully Nic’s concerns are misplaced, but you do have to wonder what kind of person you’re talking to.

Without fail though, your thoughts always return to the warmth you feel when you think of him. The heat that blooms in your chest when you play his games. You’re not going to pick something apart when it’s going so well. The truth always comes out, and you’ll find out who Art really is. The truth is, at least for now, he’s someone who makes you feel really, really good. He’s someone who excites you, and you have a feeling he’s not done surprising you.

You take a longer route on your jog than usual because you have the time, and you’re enjoying the weather and daydreaming about Art. The sun is beginning to poke through the clouds, and you smile, hopeful that today will be better.

However once you make it back to your apartment and hop in the shower, your sleep deprived body berates you for jogging the extra distance. You feel utterly haggard as your runner’s high wears off, your body groaning and your mind foggy. You’re still running early, so you curl back up on the couch in your robe and nurse another mug of coffee, hoping for a spark of life to return to your limbs.

Before long, it’s time to get dressed and clock in. You scrape yourself up off the couch and force your body into work clothes. Your work day stands before you like an expanse of quicksand you have no hope of crossing. You’re able to remain unnoticed during the morning meeting, but a few issues arise in the afternoon that require your attention. You feel like a zombie as you try to work through problems that should have easy fixes.

You manage to make it through the day, though you do embarrass yourself on a call with one of your higher ups when you call him the wrong name and completely blank on the date of an important system wide update. Soon enough, it’s all over.

The inside of your head feels like TV static, and you want more than anything to sleep, but you know your body won’t let you. Instead, you call Nic.

“Hey babes, what’s up?” He answers on the second ring.

“Fighting for my life,” you groan. “How are you?”

“About the same,” he says, though he sounds in fine shape. “I’m driving across the state to our lowest volume store in the district. Like my showing up there is going to do anything to increase their sales.” The eye roll in his voice is audible.

“Well, that’s your whole job, isn’t it?” you laugh.

“Well it’s a made up job,” Nic says glibly. “I only took it for the paycheck.”

“Yeah, yeah. We all have problems,” you jab playfully.

“Well what’s your’s, missy?” he taunts back.

“Oh, well actually,” you start in “You’re not going to believe this. Liz called me last night.”

“No way. What the fuck.” It comes out as a statement, not a question.

“Yeah, what the fuck,” you reiterate. “She accused me of talking shit about her to everyone at some bar we used to go to.”

“What the fuck?” Nic repeats. This time it’s a question.

“Yeah, she sounded really out of it,” you continue explaining. “I think she was on something, but of course, she got defensive when I asked.”

“Well of course,” agrees Nic. He knows enough about how Liz would get at times. Very in denial that she could potentially have a problem.

“God, that’s terrible, babe. Are you okay?” He sympathizes.

“I mean, it upset me a lot,” you say. “She totally went off on me. Called me a lying bitch.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t sleep at all last night,” you continue. “Work was a nightmare today.”

“Oh god, I’m sure,” says Nic. “Girl, make yourself a double of whatever the hell you drink, take a hot bath, and down your sleeping pills. You deserve it.”

“Ugh, I’m so tired that alcohol doesn’t even sound good,” you groan.

“Well, whatever you do then. Just make sure you relax.”

“I will, I will,” you assure him. “I’m worried about her,” you add after a pause.

“Babe, don’t waste your time worrying about her,” Nic chides. “You know she sure as shit wasn’t worried about you.” It hurts to hear, but you know he’s right. You don’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” he continues, “But someone has to say it. Take care of yourself, love. I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Text me.”

“I will,” you say, and then you hang up the phone.

You make yourself some tea and pasta, and curl up on the couch with your reality TV show. You find it hard to focus on, but you appreciate the distraction, even if it is more white noise than anything. Mia sleeps next to you, keeping your leg warm. You try not to think about Liz, but you can’t help hoping that she has someone looking out for her. You can’t help the part of you that misses being that person.

Liz had a tendency to take things too far, and you were always there to reign her back in. Sometimes she was less than appreciative of this, but you always felt your presence was necessary. What would she do without you? You liked the thought. It turned out to not be that hard for her to get on without you. For her to come out of the woodwork like this when you’re just getting over everything stings. You sip your tea, trying to soothe your wounded feelings, and focus on the clearly-scripted fight playing out on the TV screen.

You’re thankful for every minute that creeps by, bringing you closer to your chatting time with Art. You find yourself feeling weirdly pessimistic, though. Like maybe this is all too good to be true, and you’ve gotten wrapped up in it too fast. Another urge to cry swells in your chest, but you swallow it down. You know it’s the exhaustion talking more than anything else.

7:30 comes and you’re as eager as ever to sit down at your computer and begin typing.

You’ve truly become the highlight of my day.

Art: That’s a nice thing to say.

Well it’s true

Art: I look forward to talking to you.

I’m glad :-) 

You’re already feeling refreshed by just exchanging a few messages. To hear that he looks forward to this too brings a smile to your face that you couldn’t wipe away if you tried.

Art: You’re different.

Art: I don’t give most people a chance.

I’m glad I’m an exception then

Art: You seem to be.

What do you think abt when you think of me?

Art: I wonder about you.

What about me?

Art: I wonder what you sound like.

What I sound like?

Art: When you’re in pain, mostly.

That’s hot.

I hope you get to find out.

Art: Me too.

Art: I wonder how much you can take.

You really want to find my limit, huh?

Art: Everyone has one. 

Well I can’t wait for you to take me there

You want so badly to break under someone’s touch. You want it to be him.

Art: Can I ask you for something?

Yeah, anything.

Art: Will you bleed for me?

Now?

Art: Yes, I want to see it. 

How do you want me to do it?

Art: That’s a great question.

Art: Your sharpest kitchen knife.

You like knives?

Art: I do.

You shiver and smile. You’re all but certain he has a collection. You want to see them.

Mmmm, I like knowing what you like.

Art: Will you do it?

Yeah, give me a minute…

You get up and head into the kitchen. Surveying what you have, you choose a paring knife. Anything larger seems a little too unwieldy. You decide to switch over to your laptop again and move to the bathroom. 

Okay…

Anywhere specific I should do it?

Art: No you choose.

Art: I just want to see your blood. 

Okay I can do that.

I’ll do it then I’ll send you a pic.

Art: Perfect.

You decide to slip off your pajama pants and slippers and get in the tub. You hold your breath and feel the weight of the blade in your hand. It’s light, but it holds a vicious promise. You ghost the blade along the skin of your thigh and let anticipation build in your nerves. You’ve never really been one to rend your own flesh, never a cutter, but you’re coming to realize that you’ll be anything Art wants you to be.

You press the blade into your thigh, pretending it’s in his hand, not yours. A current of force moves through you, and you drag and slice over your skin. It’s not very deep, and you draw in a breath to go at it again right away. You exhale as you press down deeper this time, and allow the sweet sting that follows as you pull the blade to guide you. It takes a moment, but your blood pools in the shallow cut and begins spilling over the lip of your broken skin.

You stand and let the rivulets trail down your leg. Then you grab your phone and try to capture a few good angles, attempting to make the cut look deeper than it is. You send the photo.

Got it?

Art: That’s good.

What would you do if you were here?

The endorphin high is subtle, and it sneaks up on you. Soon you feel it buzzing beneath your skin. Art’s reply seems to take forever.

Art: I’d taste it.

I’d love to feel your mouth on me

You can picture it. You can almost feel it, as you watch the blood drip down your leg. You want to open another cut just for his waiting mouth.

Art: I’d make you bleed more.

Please.

I wish you were here.

You feel driven insane by how badly you want him in the same room as you. 

Art: I like seeing what you’ll do for me.

God, you’d do anything, you think to yourself.

Well I hope that means I’ll get to meet you.

Art: Yes, you will.

Okay good, I really want to

The thought of meeting Art makes you equal parts nervous and excited. Keeping him here behind a screen is safe, but making all of this real opens a world you’re frightened to venture into. But you’ve always liked being scared. 

Art: You will.

Art: Are you still bleeding?

Yeah a little.

Art: I don’t want you losing too much blood, yet.

Haha, okay, I’ll take care of it.

Don’t worry :-)

Art: Alright, good.

I should probably go to bed anyway.

I had a long day.

Art: That’s okay.

I’ll talk to you tomorrow :-) 

You close your laptop and turn on the shower, stripping off the rest of your clothes. Your blood runs red down the drain, and you watch it disappear. The bleeding stops quickly. The abrasions on your leg sting mildly, not unpleasant at all. You turn off the water and step out into the cool air.

You don’t get dressed right away, instead you stare at your leg in the mirror. It feels as though the cuts are speaking to you. You can almost hear Art’s name being whispered through the breaks in your skin. You wonder how much longer he will keep you waiting.

[crushedsweets]

So, im actually really intrigued with your AU, i know that you probaly elaborated in this before but how will the "story about growth, love, joy, and recovery."

Comes to be? Of course, your AU its way WAY different that canon OBVIOUSLY but then again, will everyone just pull up some day amd go 'Yeah fuck that guy' (they said to Slenderman in unison who its secretly the fuck you guy) ORR......

I like your AU. Its kinda the reason i fell deep into the fandom again.

Beautiful question !!!

HOWEVER, I still have a specific story for everyone and overall, things just sorta get better for them all cuz they push for it (or are pushed towards it). In terms of slenderman, as the story progresses, he grows much weaker and begins to slowly fall back into hibernation with the operator - so the proxies are actively able to defy him without the punishment and live an easier life.

I’d like to note that Toby and Nina are kind of the two main characters in my AU, but they both struggle the most with getting better—mostly because they constantly relapse into old patterns. Cuz recovery isn’t linear, etc etc etc. so they show up a lot in everyone’s storyline, etc etc - Toby moreso in proxy storylines and Nina moreso in “the killer” saga

Long ramble post below! Kinda just giving examples of characters - clocky, Kate, Tim, and Brian !

My favorite example of it is clocky I think.

Clockys entire story is her childhood being the way it is, resulting in her being so so so cold, harsh, aggressive, reactive—so protective of herself that she’ll swing over a dirty look. She grapples with what the operator made her do, how it reflects on her, does she blame herself, etc . The operator is 90% of the reason she killed people, completely out of her own control, aside from the murder of her brother and father. She spent months living in the barn, deciding her life was over and she doesn’t deserve to move past this point. Worked at a shitty diner only to buy some food and clothes.

A big theme in her character is constantly refusing help, but because of her aggressive, impulsive behavior, she kept getting into shitty situations. And yet people kept giving her help. Kept showing her kindness, softness, empathy—something she denied herself and others. Examples being Toby helping her from the operator, Jeff dragging her away from police, Kate saving her from a wolf, the diner lady being so forgiving, Nina getting her in contact with tattoo artists, the tattoo artist giving her the tough love and firm boundaries that complimented the diner owners behavior.

She eventually gets a small studio apartment, spends all her time sitting by the window and working on art, coming to her friends and being there for them. Helping them too. Pulling them out of the same holes they pulled her out of.

She’s never gonna rid herself of her first instinct being anger, but she’s so much quicker to recollect, step back, and return with a level head.

Kate is another example that I like. She became a proxy at 13 years old and has easily lived the hardest life of everyone (not that it’s a competition ..) due to the constant pain, torture, murder, etc that she’s gone through, with the first 8ish years being totally on her own.

Tim and Brian were totally completely and utterly convinced she was a lost cause, all things considered. She refused to interact with them, either attacking or running off like a scared animal anytime they approached. It took until she was like 18 to finally let Brian encourage her to start working at the farm with them. She almost exclusively works with with the animals, tending to them, taking eggs, milking cows, shaving sheep, working with the herd dog, etc. she just feels better around nature like that

She constantly exists with intense levels of anxiety and pain (poorly healed broken bones and burns, chronic migraines) and she just suffered with it, too terrified to seek help. Like clocky, her anxiety and pain manifested into aggression and stoicism rather than stammering and blushing. Toby was the first person to push her—not cuz he saw past her stoicism or anything. He just thought she was really cool and freaky and wanted to hang out with her. He likes a challenge LOL

I sort of imagine it like befriending a stray cat… slowly urging her to come to the cabin, telling her to go take a shower, giving her a proper warm home cooked meal, bringing her clothes, etc. eventually going to Jack for periodic checkups, finding ways to help with the pain, just seeking out solutions rather than letting it happen

Eventually she stays completely in the cabin. She used to keep Lauren’s corpse in the mine with her as a reminder of her crimes, but eventually gave her a proper burial. Instead of trying to avoid any possible interaction with people, she’ll quietly wander into a busy room and sit beside her friends. So on and so forth

Tim and Brian come in a pair a lot, obviously

Their main thing is just getting as far away as possible. Not everyone’s healing looks like making it work where they are, sometimes you have to escape, which is why they’re so far from the main cast in my AU despite being such important characters (aka proxies lol)

They’ve been in this as long as Kate, and they fought the hardest to try and get out of the operator and slendys grasp which… well, didn’t work very much. Slendy eventually beat them into submission, and they figured that working around his wants was the only way they could meet their needs. If they didn’t outright defy him, they could eat. If they got all their patrols done, they could work. If they did extra good on missions, they didn’t have to stay at the proxy cabin.

Which is really sad. Be the perfect proxy and your life improves, but it the maximum quality of life as a proxy issss… significantly below the average level.

One of the best ways to mitigate symptoms is to take the charcoal/tar pill capsules that slendy got them to make, which all form from his body. However, it eventually becomes a dependency issue - a literal addiction that ties them closer and closer to slenderman, making escaping proxyhood nearly impossible. And beating addiction is really really really fucking hard, but they deal with all the shitty withdrawals and do everything they can to stop taking the pills . Which helps because they’re in it together, but it’s a long long battle. It helps that Toby and Kate are getting their shit together and can handle missions more

Anyway, they eventually just. Leave. Completely vanish. I think they’d only warn Toby, sitting him down at their apartment and telling him what’s going on. And he’d get angry, scream at them, shove them around, cry - and they’d just take it, and go.

They can love Toby to death while still knowing they can’t stay in his life without ruining their own, and that’s the reality of many situations . And with that, they can finally start fresh and live the life they’ve wanted for so so so long

[ot8spreadsheetstay]

sorry i really did intend for this account to just be about skz but, well... saja boys are almost skz

anyway, kpop demon hunters spoilers because i cannot stop watching / listening to it (because of course i cant, it was made for me specifically after all, a kpop bg who are also literally demons? the only way to be more My Type would be... uh... hm... [one day of contemplation later] GOT IT! if one of them had white hair and red eyes. or a buzzcut)

much like 'soda pop' kpdh is infectious

content warnings: LONG POST, exvangelical fan of religious corruption trope, z (me) being incredibly queer and horny for demons (as always), extended mental health metaphor, acting like im getting graded in a language arts class and the assignment is to analyze a diegetic kpop song from a netflix movie, also doing a french class as well (i have been out of high school for well over a decade but you just cant take the teachers pet out of the gifted student, i guess)

to start with. 'your idol' is an absolute GIFT

the way it takes 'kpop idol' back to the religious meaning of 'idol', but in a corrupted way? exactly the way the saja boys themselves (at least jinu, rip to the others who never even got proper names, much less backstories) were corrupted by gwima? (btw headcanon that jinus memories are much worse than what actually happened, because memories are influenced by emotions and gwima has had 4 centuries to force him to feel only guilt, shame, pain, and suffering about it)

how it frames fannish devotion as parallel to religious zealotry, juxtaposing the comfort a fan feels from their parasocial relationship with their idol, with the comfort a religious adherent feels from their faith and their deity(/ies)??

the twist on the dies irae??? im obsessed

plus the way the melody goes down in pitch whenever the word 'idol' is sung, using word painting to bring to mind the imagery of it being something demonic, fallen, infernal, as opposed to the heavenly, uplifted, exalted??

and speaking of word painting, 'can i get the mic a little higher' having 'higher' go up in pitch, i love word painting so much, its absolutely perfect every time a song does it (or inverts it, as the case may be)

the line 'more than power, more than gold' like 1) what a perfect way of saying to huntrix 'you will not be successful in achieving the golden honmoon, no matter how powerful you are, we are going to win' but also 2) reminded me so much of felixs line in 'stray kids' (the song) of 'money or fame/honor/power, which do you want more' and honestly, the depth of the extended metaphor between religion and fandom makes this song feel very much skz-coded to me because ive lost count of how many times ive lost my cool in a stay group chat over how many levels of metaphor are layered in a single skz song (hello 'parade')

'dont let it show, keep it all inside, the pain and the shame, keep it out of sight' (whyyyyy did they have to cut that line from the movie) being literally what huntrix were always told, in a 'never let anyone know that you have struggles or doubts' way, but also thats exactly what gives gwima his power over the demons, they have to (are forced to) keep hold of their pain and shame, they have to keep it inside of them, because without it, he would have nothing to use against them, nothing to keep them under his control (like how he has no control over rumi until her shame is strong enough to cover her head to toe), but in order to succeed with their mission, the saja boys have to keep it hidden from view, they have to appear perfectly harmless, perfectly human, until enough of their audience are already entranced enough to believe its all just special effects (if they are thinking about ANYTHING other than their shame). they have to carry their pain and shame (instead of working through it and releasing it) because gwima demands it of them and reinforces it in them, so they have to 'keep it all inside' them even if it causes them so much misery that they would rather forget their families entirely rather than remember how terribly they failed them

'anytime it hurts, play another verse, i can be your sanctuary' with sanctuary meaning both a literal house of worship but also a figurative source of comfort and security? or a verse being a part of a song and also part of a scripture?? 'if your emotions are unbearable, listen to another one of our songs and we will give you comfort' but also 'every time you feel punished, return to our scriptures and find in us a holy place' like when i tell you this movie was made SPECIFICALLY FOR ME because hoooo boy, the exvangelical religious trauma to corruption kink pipeline goes HARD

plus its just so damn CLEVER. like 'down on your knees' as in religious devotion and supplication, but also as in how a victim is subjugated by an oppressor, but ALSO as in how a lover might... ahem... uhhh... propose marriage! yes, that. like,,,, yeah id absolutely get on my knees for jinu ngllllll

secondly, the way guima could be read as the embodiment of mental health struggles? literally the voice in your head that you cant ignore or get rid of, that constantly lies to you that you are absolutely irredeemable, that no one will ever love you, that the people you love should hate you (and would if they knew the truth)... and the way its not just the demons that he can whisper to like that? because anyone can be depressed, even if you have absolutely everything, money, fame, a calling you are good at, sick glowing weapons, friends who love you... anyone can still have that voice in their head that says they arent enough, or they are too much, or they dont deserve nice things, or that they failed at what they love doing, or whatever

thirdly, celine. ohhhhhhh boise idaho, that woman. bigots that pretend to be (and call themselves) 'accepting' because they arent actively trying to kill the thing they hate. very easy to read it as a queer metaphor, at least for me, who grew up in a 'love the sinner, hate the sin' religion (where the 'sin' in question was queer attraction). but could also just be more of the mental health metaphor. 'just to ahead and hide this part of you (that you inherited from your dad) and do everything you can to get rid of it (and hope that 'getting rid of it' doesnt kill you or leave you a hollowed out husk of a person) and keep pretending that everything is fine!' like how many people have gone through 'treatments' that left them far worse off than they were before, because some well-meaning but ultimately unaccepting authority figure in their life made them feel like that was the only way to earn their acceptance. either way, whatever marginalization you want to read rumis patterns as, celine was a perfect example of that 'of course i support you! [has never supported you for a moment, only tried to mold you into the shape they wanted from you, only supported their idea of you, doesnt even see the real you, much less support it]' authority figure

and choosing to call the demon stripes 'patterns' feels like it was intentionally going for the mental health aspect. because like,,,, when you have untreated mental health issues, sometimes that leads to you doing the same bad things over and over. a pattern of hiding your struggles because you believe your loved ones will stop supporting you if they know youre not actually as perfect as youve been pretending to be. a pattern of selfishness and manipulation because youre so caught up in your suffering that you cant imagine anything beyond figuring out how to get what you need. a pattern of blaming yourself for the pain someone else went through because you couldnt protect them. a pattern of demanding perfection from yourself because you should be able to be stronger, tougher, flawless because people expect it from you and count on you. 'when your patterns start to show it makes the hatred wanna grow outta my veins' vs 'when your patterns start to show i see a pain that lies below' showing the difference between rejecting and hating someone for their mental health struggles that cause them to hurt people around them, versus accepting that they are hurting people because they themselves are hurting. and no one hating her patterns more than rumi herself

and jinu telling rumi that hatred cannot defeat shame just... i want to kiss whoever came up with that scene, right on the knuckles that they punched me in the gut with. because you cannot hate your shame hard enough to suddenly become proud of yourself instead. but imagining 400 years of him buried under the shame and suffering gwima inflicted on him, and the hatred he had for the source of that shame... which, in a way, is a kind of self-hatred...

and rumis hope that one final grand success will finally be the thing that removes her patterns. that succeeding will make it so she no longer has to hide her flaws and pretend to be perfect, that success will make it so shes no longer mentally ill, i mean part demon. her lifelong hope that a big enough victory, thanks to her being perfect, will fix her, so she HAS to be perfect, she MUST be perfect, no one can ever know that she struggles... that hope acting as a shield for so long that gwima cant reach her despite her demonic ancestry... until he goes through her chosen family

and gdddddd the way takedown was created as a diss track against all demons, particularly the saja boys, but ended up, like any ad hominem attack against a large group, hitting an unintended target. because rumi was also a demon. and if you insult, for example, a certain neurotype or whatever, saying they dont deserve to live because they dont feel like regular people do, then when you discover that label applies to you as well... gwima basically took huntrixs ableism and told rumi 'you know they wont accept you because they clearly said, to your face, that they hate people like you. you cant tell them the truth. you have to be ashamed of this thing that you cant change about yourself. you have to hide yourself away'. and again, could be queer metaphor. but i think it fits much easier as mental illness metaphor (especially because she inherited it from her dad, whom she seemingly never knew)

which is another reason why i love 'your idol' so much. like its totally written from the perspective of the Mental Illness Voices In Your Head, as a toxic love song (plus the aforementioned religious interpretation of parasocialism in kpop) like. 'you are inherently broken, but im here to protect you from all the terrible things they could think of you, just trust me, do what i tell you to do' like anxiety, compulsions, negative self talk, 'your obsession (with how you appear to the world) feeds our connection (the connection between the illness and the sufferer)' because if you believe what the shame tells you and you act differently because of it and then nothing bad happens, its easy to connect that lack of bad with the fact that you obeyed the shame, so youre more tempted to obey it again next time. 'preaching to the choir' is telling you something you already know, because the choir is there every single week, they know every sermon just as well as the preacher does, but still 'can i get the mic a little higher' as not just a request to the sound team for a live performance so they can show off the fact that they arent lip syncing, but a challenge, a dare, 'lets see just how loud i (your mental illness) can be in your mind'

actually, just to prove that this song is a toxic love song from the perspective of gwima mental illness induced shame, fear, regret, and pain, let me go line by line and turn this into a true language arts essay. apologies for my attempts at translating the korean parts, im going from the romanization in the english captions of the movie, because i dont trust lyrics genius and color coded lyrics videos on youtube, but if anything is incorrect, i welcome any corrections. same if anyone has a better translation of the latin parts

'(pray for me now) [the day of wrath will burn you to ashes, cursed you will be in eternal flames] ill be your idol' the choir repeating the supplication (and then continuing here and there throughout the song) but buried underneath the warning / threat / promise of the more sinister version of the day of judgement hymn, and then the promises and temptations of shame (the main body of the song). incredibly compelling, given jinu wanting to be saved (pray for me) but still being the tool of gwima through this performance

'keeping you in check, keeping you obsessed, play it on repeat [endlessly] in your head' the shame spiral that keeps you locked in a deadly embrace with it, keeping you suffering, keeping you focused on yourself, imagining how others see you, repeating your worst traits and attributes

'anytime it hurts, play another verse, i can be your sanctuary' the more shame you feel, the more it pains you, the more ashamed you feel, in a vicious cycle, but at least if you are the loudest critic of yourself, then you can handle whatever anyone else tells you because no one is as harsh as your own shame is, so repeating your inner shame scriptures gives you a sense of control

'know im the only one right now, i will love you more when it all burns down' when things go wrong, your shame grows stronger, embraces you, strokes your hair and reassures you that you knew this was going to happen, this is all youre good for, this is all you deserve, this isnt a disaster, this was inevitable, even if everything else abandons you, at least your shame will always be there beside you

'more than power, more than gold, you gave me your heart now im here for your soul' there is no more powerful motivator than shame (says shame), so why not give your everything to obeying it? live in shame and submission and anytime anything goes wrong, you will be prepared because you will be expecting it

'(you know) im the only one wholl love your sins, feel the way my voice gets underneath your skin' could have been written by gwima (which is a hilarious mental image ngl 'you may have succeeded with that catchy soda pop song, but i need a villain anthem when i make my redebut into the human world... also while im at it, make me a logo and merch shirts as well' like why were there people with gwima shirts at the performance of 'your idol'? also didnt that show start at midnight? how did it end with the sun fully up? were saja boys performing for that long before rumi showed up? can the hunters just induce false daylight? is that why they were called the sunlight sisters? anyway) shame doesnt hate you for your selfishness, your cowardice, your violent outbursts, your untruthfulness. shame loves all the bad things about you. shame fills you up, getting under your skin like a million splinters, because it loves you

'listen cause im preaching to the choir, can i get the mic a little higher, give me your desire, i can be the star you rely on' the shame is not telling you anything you dont already know, but it still wants to be the only thing you listen to. it wants you to believe it, trust it, rely on it like a guiding star (also, lucifer morningstar vibes, im just saying)

'[drunk on my cheering], you cant look away, dont you know im here to save you? now we running wild, yeah im all you need, ima be your idol' framing shame as an addiction, something encouraging, enthralling, overwhelming and overpowering and all-consuming, but also something that convinces you that its good for you, it protects you, it saves you. focus on your shame, worship it, let it control you, dedicate your life to your shame

'[shining / glowing / luminous] fame, [keep on shouting], im your idol, thank you for the pain cause it got me going viral, [never-healing] fever, making you a believer, [for your sake i exist as an idol]' (again please correct any incorrect translations, that line twisted my brain up so bad) seems to be still more along the line of 'focus on me (your shame), give all your energy and attention to me, because the more you fight it, the more shame you feel, the more you are trapped in a subservient relationship to your shame'. because you cant get rid of shame by punishing yourself, so beating yourself up just makes more people know about how much shame you feel, embarrassing you, convincing you that what your shame tells you is real, is real, and its elevated to idol status because you give it that attention and power

'dont let it show, keep it all inside, the pain and the shame, keep it outta sight, your obsession feeds our connection, [this moment] give me all your attention' be ashamed of your shame, let the pain of it fester inside you, because every moment you spend ashamed of yourself makes it easier for shame to follow you, sink its claws into you, make you feel ashamed over smaller and smaller flaws and faults

'living in your mind now, too late cause youre mine now, i will make you free when youre all a part of me' literally gwima wrote these lyrics, hes literally right behind them when they sing this part, totally believable that hes mentally feeding them the words. anyway. the shame that lives in your head and whispers (or shouts) all your worst fears and regrets into your mind, and its so hard to escape it and so easy to give up and let it have its way. dont have hope, dont have confidence in yourself, dont try to be better, just let shame own you, become a servant to shame, forget your human aspirations and give yourself to the demon king of shame and self-hatred and suffering

'listen cause im preaching to the choir, now can i get the mic a little higher, gimme your desire, once we set your world on fire' the mask comes off. shame is not a guiding star, but an immolating flame. it does not want to lead you to success, but to annihilation. the promises of the demon king are stripped away, revealing the costs

'[drunk on my cheering] you cant look away, no one is coming to save you, now we running wild, youre down on your knees, ima be your idol' no one can save you from shame. you can only replace it with something else (like hope, or trust, or love). because no matter how often someone says 'theres nothing to be ashamed of', shame will whisper 'theyre just saying that. theyre lying to you. they dont know how truly despicable you are. if they knew, they would agree that you should be ashamed of yourself'. and under the weight of that enormous task, you fall to your knees. youre the only one who can save you, and its an impossible task if you worship your shame the way it wants you to

and the french version oh my goodness. using savior instead of idol? plus all the callbacks to 'free'??

free: si on laissait derrière notre chagrin, on serait libre [if we left behind our grief / sorrow, we would be free]

your idol: laisse-moi te libérer de ton chagrin [let me free you from your grief / sorrow]

free: tu as réveillé celui que j'étais et qui se cacher depuis longtemps [you have awakened whom i used to be and who was hiding for so long]

your idol: avec moi, tu n’as rien à cacher [with me, you have nothing to hide]

free: je veux y croire mais j'ai si peur si c'était une erreur [i want to believe it but i have so much fear if was an error / a mistake]

your idol: écoute-moi parler avec ardeur, que ma voix t’emmène loin de tes peurs [hear me speak with ardor / passion, may my voice lead you far from your fears]

plus all the callbacks to 'soda pop' like

soda pop: t'es ma lumière dans le noir [youre my light in the darkness]

your idol: ma lumière est si forte qu’elle t’éblouit [my light is so strong that it dazzles you]

soda pop: tes paroles, je les boit [the things you say, i drink them]

your idol: prends le pouvoir, bois mes mots [take the power, drink my words]

soda pop: je n'abandonnerais jamais [i will never give up]

your idol: il est temps de t’abandonner [it is time to give yourself up]

soda pop: bébé, tu me donnes chaud, avec toi tout est beau [baby you make me hot, with you everything is beautiful]

your idol: suis-moi, j’ai chaud quand je te vois [follow me, i get hot when i see you

bonus - free: alors suis moi, je te vois, tout est possible, j'y crois [so follow me, i see you, everything is possible, i believe it]

anyway, in summary, i love that the kpop movie leaned into the 'kpop actually talks a LOT about mental health issues' thing, and i think it did so in a really accessible and widely-relatable way. also jinu is the new definition of 'poor little meow meow' blorbo, yes? are we still using that term? because the atrocities are definitely there

its just an incredible song. its an incredible MOVIE. i mean it got me to come back to tumblr after who knows how many years (my old blogs know, but that aint none of my business) just because i had more to say about it than any gc could possibly handle. like the fact that jinu is wearing the bracelet rumi gave him during that entire 'your idol' performance (because the tiger specifically brought it to him but also because he chose to put it on?? he chose to remind himself of her hope in the possibility of redemption for him, after trying so hard to convince her that he was only getting close to her to bring her secrets and weaknesses and shame back to gwima so they could defeat her?? he still held onto her hope in the goodness he had decided to try his best to forget?? even knowing she finally knew all the worst things about him, he still wanted to believe her hope was strong enough to mean something???? im gonna be sick about it for the rest of my life???)

if not for the tiger and magpie, jinu would never have connected with rumi, jinu would not have held on to rumis faith in his inner goodness, and rumi would not have been able to accept herself and gain the strength (that jinu gave her, because he believed he could still be redeemed, because SHE believed he could be redeemed) to defeat gwima. most important characters in the whole movie, argue with the wall, i am a ty and maggie supporter first and a person second. kkachi & pabohorangi supremacy

[spilling-my-guts-to-you-guyss]

New intro post cuz the other one is shit

Reminders for me-

Gift from ellia [then i drew it] Symbolism and shit <js for me ig> 1 year anniversary Notes challenge Thinking about my past attempt vent art...

Time since last relapse: 8 weeks 6 days

Hey guys, lore drop ig, I'll be explaining it straightforward, so trigger warnings

Also not tagging my main account, but if you search deep enough here, youll find it

Minor, Christian, Ex-suicidal, struggling with self harm, Have several physical and probably mental problems, BUT here to help where I can

Minor: i am a minor, 16 to be precise. And to be honest, i domt care what ysll do here. I dont care if youre mean or nice, or anything. If you help, thank you so much. If you dont, well im still glad youre here. The only real rule is please dont be sexually explicit or freaky in thst nature. This is a serious blog to me. Christian: I am a Christian. I have grown in religion, yet only in the past 2 years have i really grown closer to God. My past life was... terrible in a sense. Not because of family or friemds, just myself. God saved me countless times from Satan, from myself. In still figuring out some things, still wondering about my purpose... but hopefully things will be cleared up soon. Ex-suicidal: i will explain explicitly so beware- I've attempted may 25th 2024 i belive. It was a Saturday, and it was by attempted overdose. I tried with 55 pills (a variety), thinking that might be enough. But surely it wasn't, and i lived. If taken 5-10 more though, then things would've been serious. Anyways, I'm still somewhat affected by it. I can't take pills without feeling gross after, and any mention of suicide or even the words related to it maks me a bit uncomfortable. Still struggling with thoughts on my life, but i will not attempt again. I wouldn't dare. Self Harm: Started this around January February last year (2024), and just progressively grew worse... was first hangnail picking then using nail cutters on my skin, then tweezers, box knives, and carving knives. spread all over my body in small splotches; arms, wrist, thigh, ankles. Its grown so bad that i feel no affects of it any longer. No pain, yet also no relief. It's an addiction in trying to stop... i am getting help though. Ill put a "time since relapse" cohnt up there, as you have seen Problems: ive got suspected autism and adhd, and I'm actually gonna get a psych evaluation for this soon. But anyways, also suspected depression. (Update, was diagnosed with dmdd) Was also diagnosed with coccygodynia (chronic tailbone pain) after an accident, and overall i have shrimp posture. Not kidding about that too, it's fucking terrible. Also I'm quite overweight and it's a self conscious thing. Plus my jaw problems... I've got plenty things wrobg with me physically as much s mentally. Helping: yeah I made this alt account to get help, i do need it... BUT im also here for you guys! remmeber always that you are loved, people care for you! i dont wanna give the cliche "life gets better" shit, because sometimes it doesnt. But just because it doesnt get better doesnt mean it will never. I care for you and yall can talk to me, Ill try my best to help where I can. Remember again! I love you, God loves you, people inthe world care for you.

People who know my shit

Online- the-ellia-west, gekowo, sunflowerrosy (deactivated), homelessnerd, inspirationallybored, likeadeadbattery, bees-with-a-camera, write-with-will

In person- lwkjsfloating (deactivated) (sis), theweirbox123 (friend), potatoeperson33 (friend), bamboozled-08orange (froend), mom

Thanks for reading if yall really did, I know its a lot.

have a great day or night, get rest and always remember

YOU ARE LOVED

[hazelfoureyes]

Hi hazel!

I hope you are doing better after your posts news months ago. We missed you and your energy on this app. Due to recent events, I have been very stressed and very scared and I've been rereading the A Doe In Fall series to take my mind off of everything.

So i just wanted to say thank you. It's literally not related and you did not do that for me and my harsh feelings about a lot of things in this life rn, but regardless your fanfics have been a perfect escape for me since a year or two ago?? Geez... it can't have been that long... anyhoo I am so utterly grateful.

When you're ready to post more parts of A Doe In Fall or The Safeword is Radioapple, I will be here ready and waiting to absolutely devour your wonderful story and words. However, I just wanted you to know how much your work is helping me in the now with what you have written. So thanks 💖💖

It's also so crazy to say cause i feel like this is like the "you saved me" posts but like this one consists of smutty demon character fics based on the 1920s-30s and also Hell 🤣 but i am above being any sort of ashamed so bring it all on im ready 😈

What a terribly sweet thing to say! It’s been a year of smutty smut smut on here. Which is… huh?? Lmao

I’m so glad my stories can give you an escape! That means so much because it means I’ve succeeded in pulling you into the little scenes in my head 😭 I’m escaping there anyway so might as well write it out and let us all go! Field trip!

A gentle reminder the ending of ADIF has been written for like 6+ months now, I’m mostly now just babying the bits that are done and adding things to flesh out the world of our lovers before The Event. So I promise it will finish…. Cuz I already wrote the painful parts 😭 Your inbox genuinely helped me get over my “I’m scared to open Google docs” paralysis and continue fleshing out the next that’s half written, so thank you!

I think I’ve been really in a “scared to move so gonna zone out” mood for like three months now and it’s really sapping the soul out of me. Like I’m scared to indulge in hobbies or art for some reason… like I’m scared of expending the energy or falling in love again with things. I can’t explain it well I’m just terrified to write. But I did! With your kind words in my ear!

Your inbox really made my day and is the kind of thing I have to struggle to not post on my personal insta like HEY LOOK NICE PEOPLE LIKE ME 😂 💖

[raihann1]

STOP

When I tell u the corpse bride and CP fic was so unexpected but so needed. Basically

I LOVED IT OML😭 IT'S ACTUALLY A REALLY CREATIVE CONCEPT AND A FUN READD AHH

Anyway, if you could make a part two I would be forever grateful. But don't push urself, I don't mind waiting<3 AND UR ART IS ADORABLE--

Okay, I'll leave you be now. Have a great day/night 🤧

🦋The other man⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖Eyeless Jack x Reader 2.

NOTES: AW THANKS!! Im going to continue this series untill its basically the whole thing, who should Victoria be? 😭

OLD!Notes: Gosh I love Corpse bride.. how about eyeless jack as a corpse husband though? 😼

Unaccurate E/J

This was made to fit F!readers sorry :( 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚✶🦋☆🦋★🦋☆🦋★🦋✶ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

You ran, ran for your damn life. What even was that thing?! No way in hell would you get catched by that! You ended up bumping headfirst into a large tree, whimpering in pain you saw the figure slowly making its way towards you. Your vision was blurry but you knew it was him. It had to be. You tried running agian only for you to embarassingly hit your head once agian on the same tree. You shook your head and dashed out of there. Slipping on ice and dashing through the forest as the figure seemed to try and reach out for you. The sharp branches you dashed through seemed to grab you and hold you in place as you gasped as one clung onto the collar of your shirt.

"Oh god!" You whispered as you trudged through them making it towards the bridge.

Crows seemed to appear out of nowhere and soon everything seemed peaceful once agian. Your breathing was heavy as you conciously looked around. Sighing in relief once you saw no trace of the man. You walked slowly backing away when suddenly.

BAM

Staring right back at you was the man, or demon or whatever this monster was! You gasped in shock. Backing away eyes widened as he slowly stepped closer to you reaching out for you.

"You may kiss the bride." The mans raspy demonic voice said as you could just sense he had a shit eating grin behind the mask. ---------------------------- Ｔｗｏ Your vision was blurry as you noticed two figures. One was the man, and another.. a skeleton.

A skeleton?!

"A new arrival?" The skeleton said intrigured.

"She must have fainted, are you alright?" He said tilting his head and reaching to place one hand behind your head.

"W-what happened.." you said seeming dazed.

"Looks like we got a breather!" The skeleton said its face inching closer to yours.

You gasped in shock.

"Does he have a dead brother?" A lady said shoving the skeleton out of the way.

"She's still soft!" A child like skeleton said joyfully.

You backed away, slowly moving upwards and taking in your surroundings.

"A toast!" A short skeleton with a cutlass shoved into its body said raising his glass. Another skeleton removed the weapon as the weird drink dispensed into his cup.

"To the newly weds!" He continued as the cutlass was once agajn plunged into him.

"Newly weds?!" You said astonished.

"In the woods! You said all those vows.. so.. perfectly!" He said gently grabbing your hand where a gold rusted ring was.

"I-i did?!" You said staring at your ring finger.

"I did!" You said realizing, you fell hitting your head over and over agian.

"Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP!!"

"Coming through! Coming through! My name is Paul," a talking head said.

You gasped agian.

"I will be creating your wedding Feast!"

Suddenly a boy with blonde hair, black eyes and blood seeping from them appeared. He seemed to be some kind of glitch, a virus? His voice sounded of a child.

"Wedding feast?! Fuck yes!!" He sajd giggling as his whole body seemed to glitch.

"Your "husband" smiled and nervously laughed."

"Viruses.. hah.." he said.

"Oh!" You said almost falling AGIAN..

"Keep away! You grabbed the cutlass from the tiny skeletons body, struggling to retrieve it."

"I- i've got a.. dwarf and am not afraid to use it!" You said shaking.

The room gasped.

"I want some questions...NOW."

"Answers." The skeleton corrected you.

"I think you mean answers.."

"T-thank you yes..answers, I need answers."

Your "husband" seemed shocked.

"W-whats going on here! Where am I!" You said fumbling.

A pool ball fell from a pool table awkwardly.

"Who are you?!"

"Well.. thats kind of a long story."

"What a story it is, a tragic tale of romance, passion and a murder most foul." A skeleton in a top hat said.

"This is gonna be good!" The small skeleton said as you looked confused.

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

Notes: you should listen to Remains of the day so it makes it more realistic :). Here are the changed lyrics!

Hey!Give me a listen, you corpses of cheerLeast less of you who still got an earI'll tell you a story, make your skeleton cryOf our own judiciously lovely corpse spouseDie, die we all pass awayBut don't wear a frown 'cuz it's really okayYou might try and hide, and you might try and prayBut we all end up the remains of the dayDie die die, yeah yeah, die die dieWell! A man is a gem known for miles aroundA mysterious stranger came into town she was angel like good lookin' but down on her cashAnd our poor little baby he fell hard and fastWhen his mother said no, he just couldn't copeSo our lovers came up with a plan to elopeDie, die we all pass awayBut don't wear a frown 'cuz it's really okayYou might try and hide, and you might try and prayBut we all end up the remains of the dayDie die die yeah yeahDie die die yeah yeahDie die die yeah yeahDie die die yeah yeahYeah, so they conjured up a plan to meet late at nightThey told not a soul kept the whole thing tightNow her fathers suit it fit like a gloveYou don't need much when you're really in loveExcept for a few things or so I'm toldLike the family jewels and a satchel of goldThen next to the graveyard by the old oak treeOn a dark foggy night at a quarter to threeHe was ready to go, but where was She?She waited(And then) There in the shadows, was it a Girl?(And then) His little heart beat so loud!(And then) And then baby, everything went blackNow when he opened her eyes, he was dead as dustHis jewels were missin' and his heart was bustSo he made a vow lyin' under that treeThat he'd wait for his true love to come set him freeAlways waitin' for someone to ask for his handThen outta the blue comes this lovely young girlWho vows forever, to be by his sideAnd that's the story of our own, corpse husbandDie, die we all pass awayBut don't wear a frown 'cuz it's really okayYou might try and hide, and you might try and prayBut we all end up the remains of the dayYeah

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚✶🩸☆🩸★🩸☆🩸★🩸✶ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

Part 3 anyone?

[godawfulfruitbat]

hello tumblr, it’s been a while.

like….WAAYYYYY longer than i intended it to be. but man. shit happened. and shit is happening.

i want to apologize in advance as i come with no art today, i just want to do my best to provide a quick life update and some words of love. talking/writing has never really been my strong suit, but i will give it my all regardless.

in terms of life update, there’s been a good handful of things going on during the past few months. for one, i got a job! i don’t talk about my personal life too much here, but there was a good block of time during the duration of this blog where i was unemployed. but im finally working again and it feels good. in terms of surgery recovery, its been…a lot. i had some minor issues with fluid buildup in my chest, and then later on i had an infection in one of my scars. but i am now at a point where im up and running, and everything has been resolved in that regard. another thing i don’t discuss much here is my struggles with physical health. in my personal life, i deal with chronic pain. and, during top surgery recovery, all of my issues just SKYROCKETED since i was off a few of my medications and have only very slowly been returning to their normal level of nuisance. i’m doing better than i was a few months ago, but things are still not the best. i’m at a point in my life where it has been in my best interest to use a cane in instances where i know i will be walking a lot or standing up for long periods of time to deal with some of the pain i get in my back, hips, knees and ankles. it’s been a pretty big help, and it’s an adjustment i’m glad i made. i’m having a lot of big feelings surrounding my experiences with chronic pain, especially now, but i am learning to live with them and move forward. when i am able to do so, id love to go back to posting on here. however, i am no longer at a point in my life where i can prioritize this blog the same way i used to. i will do what i can, and i promise to come back every now and then to check in with you all. every single one of you has had so much patience with me and showed me so much kindness and i am so grateful. you all are wonderful, and i love you very much.

and since i cannot in good faith say nothing, i am from america and i too am overwhelmed with grief and loss. i am still mourning the sliver of hope i had for seeing brighter days in the near future. but to those who see this and are in the same boat, you are not alone. you are loved, your presence matters and is important. your thoughts and your words are powerful, and it’s not over yet. if you need someone in your corner, reach out. i am here for you, as are so many others. i reiterate; you are loved.

everyone please stay safe, and be kind to yourself. i love you all so much. <3

[jimmedicated-jambino]

hiii umm feel free to ignore this if u want. im not really good at words and articulating things and i know the full project and context is still yet to come but i would really like to ask what direction you’re coming from with this… cause im perceiving like, a sort of unempathetic “HA stupid shit idiot loser finally realized he needs therapy and medication to be worth something” undercurrent (yknow not maybe in those exact words but this general vibe) and i would really like to know if im totally wrong about this, cause i like your art plenty and it gets shared in my circle but something still pokes the back of my mind y’know? i hope the rest of your day is good :)

Ok I avoided mentioning this because I really prefer not to share details about my mental health and personal traumatic experiences, but I guess I should've said this sooner:

TW: Depression, su*cide attempt

Note: To be clear, whenever I mention "Jimmy" I am NOT talking about the character from the game. I'm talking about the Jimmy in my AU.

This AU is rooted in my own experiences with mental illness, severe depression, and taking medication. I have struggled with depression for the majority of my life and around 4 years ago I reached my lowest point. It got so bad that just being alive hurt. Living hurt. Everything just hurt. From the moment I woke up until the moment I fell asleep all I could feel was just pure pain. Not just emotional pain, it manifested into physical pain. And it was bad. I felt like I was rotting on the inside and my soul was trying to climb out of the torture chamber that my body had become. I was willing to do anything to make the pain and suffering stop. I was prepared to end my life and if I hadn't made the decision to try medication as a last resort, I can say with 100% percent certainty that I would be dead right now. I really couldn't take it anymore. I had reached the absolute bottom. I gave up.

Jimmy in this AU is sort of a projection of myself, both past and present. Good and bad. Not sure why my brain decided to pick this character specifically to project onto. I hated him with a passion when I first finished the game. Idk might have something to do with me having autism and adhd or something or all the jimcurly fanfic I started reading. I'm doing better now, but that experience will always stick with me. Because it's part of me now in a way and I found that using creative outlets to sort of cope really helps. Like taking parts of my trauma, creating something new out of it, and then just putting it out in the world and letting it go. It's not trapped inside my body anymore. It takes some of the weight off my shoulders. It's helped me heal a lot. I also have a tendency to use self-deprecating humor as a coping mechanism. Not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

Maybe I've been too hyperbolic about Jimmy's traits? I'm not sure. I tend to do that a lot to myself.

But, all of this au stuff isn't just something I pulled out of my ass or made up. It's all based on something real that happened to me. This is built on an actual person's experience. My experience.

Jimmy is also meant to be a lot more nuanced. There's an animation in progress that tells the story a lot better. It's like one of those animatic music video things ppl make and post on YouTube. The song is really important to this AU, honestly it's kinda like the theme song to me?? Idk It's called TENSIONNN by Webcage (such a bop legitimately) it's meant to describe the tail end of the "fallout" and the entirety of the "split" from Jimmy's pov. The most important lyric in that song and probably the lyric that this AU was created around is:

"I won't leave you now, It's too poetic"

It's poetic that Jimmy left with the intention of watching Curly crash and burn without him in his life, only to turn around and watch him succeed and soar. It's a tragedy. But it's ALSO poetic that Jimmy started to heal and worked so hard to get to a place where he could re-enter Curly's life and have a healthy relationship with him. Now they're together again, but this time they're not two impulsive, emotionally immature, 20 year olds. They're two adults that have had time to learn and grow as people. And that is beautifully poetic to me. Also super interesting to explore that concept.

If canon Curly and Jimmy sticking together was what allowed the events of Mouthwashing to happen, then them spending some time apart could be what prevents it from happening. Atleast that was my logic while writing this. I wanted to make a sort of fix-it AU to fill the "wholesome Jimcurly" hole in my heart bc fanfics like that are scarce as fuck (understandable bc of the source). I tried to write this whole thing as a fanfic, but I quickly realized that 1) I'm not good at writing anything longer than 1,000 words and 2) this story requires visuals to properly tell it in the way I intended.

Also, I'm having fun. Drawing and writing all of this makes me happy. Obviously, the story isn't very "fun" (I've cried for hours while writing and drawing the more depressing parts probably 20 times by now), but telling it is. I don't know. I'm just a guy that draws. A depressed guy that draws and is still healing. I'm in no way "cured" by the medication I'm on. I still have depressive episodes, but I've been managing them better. I'm in a much better place mentally rn and I'm proud of myself. I've been fighting an intense mental battle against depression everyday for 10+ years of my life at this point. I'm not like 100% happy, I'm just kinda chillin rn idk.

I'm glad you asked this question! I encourage other people to ask questions! It helps me grow as a beginner writer and storyteller.

I hope that answered your question. I appreciate you.

TLDR: No, that isn't at all what I'm doing here. Jimmy is a reflection of myself and my experience with having severe depression and how I started my healing journey. It's based on very real events and thoughts that I have had. No, I don't have any bad intentions. No, I don't hate mentally ill people. I'm mentally ill and neurodivergent. I'm diagnosed. (We're in this fight together, man why would I do that??) I'm not a mustache-twirling villain with an ulterior motive. I'm a tired, mentally ill college student with audhd that is recovering from severe depression that literally almost killed me and drawing these guys is my current hyperfixation that helps me cope with that. That's it.

Also Jimmy is my favorite character (in this AU!!!!) idk why ppl think I hate him. Don't artists usually dump all their trauma on their ocs and make them suffer incomprehensible horrors bc they love the oc?? I thought we all did that. I did that. That's what I'm doing rn. 💀

[winn-schott-throughtheheart]

Tw: mention of sh

Ok art/headcannon idea:

Depth into Winn’s SH? Because it’s something I struggle with and would like to know ur hcs and/or thoughts on it

But like no rush ofc

okay okay

(tw for the obvious here guys)

so i myself have struggled with sh for like, almost ten years (and still do) so take this from a professional if you will /j ☝️ take everything with a pinch of salt because a lot of this will probably be skewed by my own biases and experiences

I have scars on my upper arms and my thighs, because I roll my sleeves up a lot and i wear shorts a lot these were the places it was easiest for me to hide it. these are naturally where i picture scars on winn, but we see him with short sleeves, like, maybe three times total, so i can believe he has scars further down his arms/elsewhere too.

seriously, with such a shitty upbringing I'd almost find it harder to believe he doesn't have any

he doesn't really consider himself "sober" or "clean" or anything like that. he doesn't have many feelings towards it now, it's been a part of him for so long it's just something that he deals with, same as getting dressed in the morning or paying his bills. he does try not to most of the time, but it's not something he gets too upset about anymore if he doesn't manage it

he doesn't feel like he can quit completely/go cold turkey because very often it's months or even years between episodes

more prone to relapsing during a panic attack or a meltdown, i.e, when he's not exactly in the right frame of mind

he had a few scars on his chest from some angsty transgender teenage times, but they obviously aren't there anymore since he got top surgery (which I hc to be in the 6 month gap between S2 and S3)

part of it is almost cathartic for him? there's a (not so small) part of him that truly believes he deserves the pain of it, its almost comforting since he's so used to feeling physical pain, and its a comfort in a another way because its pain he can control

its a way of letting out big emotions so he doesn't bottle them up and explode like his dad- mostly anger.

it was worse when he was younger and alone, as he grew and met kara and alex and everyone else, he never kicked the habit completely but it shifted to more subtle forms of sh, overworking himself, burning himself out, neglecting his health, etc

alex has some suspicions, but she knows winn well enough to know that she would only make it worse if she were ever to confront him about it

definitely attempted before. maybe that's projection, but again, I'd find it harder to believe he hadn't given how much he bottles up everything he's endured. meeting kara was his reason for living, not because he liked her, but because she was the first person ever who'd shown interest in wanting to get to know him/be his friend

he has some weird patchy/uneven spots of body hair, particularly on his thighs, since hair doesn't grow through scar tissue. he's a little insecure about it because it makes it a lot more obvious since it's not hidden by anything, but there's nothing he can really do about it

brought to you by me, 3 months on testosterone, realising hair is growing on my thighs everywhere that is not scar tissue

winn has a LOT of scars. like, a lot. way more than the average person, and he's elicited quite a few gasps from people seeing him naked for the first time, but there's very very few of them that aren't from some kind of violence- he's got several little ones on his fingers from slipping with a soldering iron or working with sharp metal and plastic, a couple faded ones on his knee and elbow from that time he tripped on the playground when he was a kid.

okay one of these days im going to draw a scar map of him

anyway, sorry i took seven million years to answer this 😅 don't be mad at me. i need way more winn angst/whump in my life actually. i need him bloodied up and on his knees