#tw minor sh

[j3st3r-luvr]

TW… dead body, Lacey’s games, greif, scars, minor SH

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Was sad when i couldn’t complete a goretober piece for October but then i realized this old drawing counts as a screen shot redraw!! So enjoy

[trans-androgyne]

To the trans boys looking at news on transphobia and transandrophobia today, please don’t. The most important thing in the whole world to me right now is that you take care of yourselves; you’ve been on my mind all day and you will be for much longer, I love you so deeply and I’ll do anything I can to support and protect you. Trans guys and transmascs have an especially high rate of self-harm and suicidal ideation, and with certain fearmongering you may have heard around our community by certain groups specifically, that may be much worse right now. It’s entirely possible your life will be negatively affected for a while, including possible transition delays. But this is only temporary, for your current and future self and every trans person out there I need you to do your best to keep up hope. There is so much trans joy to be had in your life, I promise you. I’ll be there right by your side, and I’m sincerely here to talk if you need me.

[sting-raes]

How would you describe your Elliott’s body type, I’m super interested because he’s just look so fucking hugabble

Ah! So this is something I've actually already drawn a while back.

It's been a while and I think if I were to draw him again like this he'd be a little meatier? But I like to think that he's fairly toned in the arm and pec department. You'd need a fair bit of strength to not only fix a wooden rowboat, but to lug it out to sea yourself! The pecs are just for... well, indulgence. Also it's canon.

He works out (I imagine it's during that window between 8am when he wakes up and 10am when he unlocks the door to his cabin) but he does more body weight exercises than, say, Alex since he's not shown to own any exercise equipment. So he isn't ripped but he's reasonably defined methinks.

[chuuyasfanboy]

HII!! Could you do one with Dazai, Chuuya and Atsushi reacting to a reader who has one of those SHTWT accounts? It's a kind of strange request, but I've never seen anyone talk about it!!

I actually loved your blog, I'm currently hooked! <3

NOT a weird request at all! I dont have any social medias like this, but I interact with edtwt and have friends with both edtwt's and shtwt's, so I think I'm comfortable enough talking about the issue!

Now this may be very hypocritical of me BUT IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING MENTALLY PLEASE REACH OUT FOR HELP! Here's a link to a website with hotline numbers! Even if you cant get yourself to stop completely, please at least be save enough to keep living. Love you all mwah<3

https://www.pleaselive.org/hotlines/

Definitely didn't skip a matchup request to write this... Promise I'll get to you soon other person! I've had some ideas in mind heheheh

Dazai, Chuuya, and Atsushi (Seperate) x shtwt!Reader

Tw: Sh tw, mentions of edtwt in the ooc lol, spoilers dazai totally has a shtwt too</3

Dazai Osamu

Starting off with the worst reaction

Why is he the worst, you ask?

He has one too!

He totally followed you by accident because he just found this all so inspirational. And then you posted a tweet with the same joke you'd made earlier that day.

And oh he knew.

He's mad, but mostly because you never told him you were struggling.

He's the one who's supposed to be masking his emotions, damn it!

(I'm not sure if shtwt is the same way, but i know edtwt is chock full of motivational disgusting food images posting! I'm making those assumptions that its similar lol)

He definitely tries to convince you to get help, and he feels really bad for not actually being that worried.

He trusts you to keep yourself safe enough and so eventually he just gives up on the notion altogether

It doesnt take long for the two of you to be a bit more open with it all

He finally shows you whats under those bandages

It's worse than you think.

You're the one who convinces him to properly treat his cuts, and after enough bothering, you finally let him treat you the same.

Late nights when the two of you cant sleep, and he comes over.

The both of you in each others arms, disinfectant and fresh rolls of bandages discarded on the nightstand

While he may not be the one you go to for support, he definitely wont judge you for anything, not even a bit

And if you do decide to finally get help, he's there to cheer you on

Dont be fooled though, he wont be changing his ways at all

Good luck getting this stinker to find value in himself!

Chuuya Nakahara

He's got the best reaction, by far

He's trying not to judge you, really

It's not something he's ever had to struggle with these things, and the furthest he can really give you is an absurd amount of sympathy

The little experience he does have comes from his years with Dazai in the port mafia, but that was a long time ago and he hasnt had to think of it since

It brings up old memories...

You'd left it open on a private tab one night, and he found it when you asked him to look up something

He's about ready to cry, really, but he's strong

For you

He encourages you to get help, professional help

And if you decline, he doesnt push it much further

Instead, he offers you help directly

He cofiscates your razors the best he can, but he soon finds you manage to get them anyway

So he comprimises

When you forget to clean them, he does it for you

Buys you disinfectant and fresh bandages every time he knows youre running low, keeps your first aid stocked

Things like that

He politely asks to not be shown any fresh wounds, twitter post or not, and does his best not to think about the fact you post these things so openly and he hadn't even known

If you do decide to seek help, he's the most supportive.

He keeps you on your recovery plan, holds you close if you relapse, and never passes a single word of judgement your way

He's here for you, always

Atsushi Nakajima

Akutagawa found it before he did

Atsushi was told, immediately

He PANICS, and as soon as he sees you he pulls you aside

And he just cries into your arms

You're left so confused like?

What????

He understands why you didnt tell him, and he doesnt blame you for it

But he's still pretty upset

Moreso with himself than you

Again, like the other two, you'd been posting pictures of it all online and he had to be told!

He insists you get help, and he wont let up on it

Reminds you every day after a nicely times good morning text

"If you're feeling down make sure you call somebody before you do anything, okay?"

He's practically on his hands and knees begging you to unfollow the shtwt's you've bombarded your feed with

Suddenly he's terrified of looking over your shoulder at your phone, but also so afraid every time he isnt

He's really not good at sorting it out, his brain is scrambled and he's panicked every time he thinks about it

But he really does try hard to stay positive

And while one or two things he says may unintentionally come off as judgement, a good majority of his opinions on the topic is really just trying to get you help

He makes an alt account just to keep tabs on your shtwt

Its really obvious, made a day ago and following only you

You don't tell him that though<3

[petridishcloneofmikeyway]

waycest but mikey has acne and hes sweaty and nervous and gerard is just soooo in love w him

Hopefully this suffices The second one kinda sucks 🙏

[dipfordemperor]

dipper hcs :333 tw some darkships maybe ...

room is a mess. like theres cups and shit EVERYWHERE. he says he will clean but he will NOT 😭

steals ford's clothes (mostly that fuckass red turtleneck)

trans!!! ftm!!!!!! he has a binder that he hides from his parents but its too big for him lol

craves physical touch but it also makes him feel sick and/or awkward

autistic ...... ok this is canon ! /j

he only owns like 2 outfits because they give him gender euphoria

only accepts any kind of touch from ford (bro u gay😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂) or mabel (i dont ship them i just like that they trust eachother)

vents to ford about trans struggles (ford has no idea what any of those words mean) (but he is there for him!!! woohoo)

no scars on arms but lots on legs (self inflicted and unintentional)

restless leg syndrome (ouh he just like me)

[neurdogic]

my semester-long werewolf series is complete! thank you all for staying along for the ride while i made them. all images are ink and colored pencil on 15 x 22 inch multimedia paper. all titles are in the image IDs.

[eclaire-went-bam]

tips on how to deal with cluster b rage is useful and all what like what do i do when i'm bored

like

genuine question

i'm not aspd (i say that cus i know chronic boredom's usually big for that one) but i do get painfully bored extremely often. i'll be under no emotional distress and then i'll decide to self-mutilate simply because i'm bored and it's funny & i don't think that's a good thing

[cher-wl]

You guys want a tip ?

If you're hungry have a sip of really disgusting alcohol like Vodka or smth strong. It makes you wanna throw up and stops your hunger and cravings

[enemywasp]

I am usually against call out posts as I do not want to ever encourage harrasement to someone intentionally or not. But god is it tempting when people are telling me to "cut deeper" cause I don't think you should be able to get away with that

[yanblr-confessions]

} SH TW {

I hate that the only way I can cope with my feelings since I feel them so strongly is slicing my skin...... I want to be normal but I physically cannot. I wish I didn't react like this.....

— ❤️‍🔥

#19

[lastchancestardomm]

To All of You, I Say

Word Count - N/A

Warnings: Extremely Fucked-Up Shit. Child Abuse. Child Neglect. Rape/Non-Con. Abandonment. Heed the Warnings.

Status - Not Beta Read

A/N: I had to get her backstory out somehow. This has been privated for the last like two months, and I am very insecure and genuinely afraid of this, but I had to write out Ana's backstory somehow. I tried putting content labels on it, but it hid this post to the majority of my followers, so I'm just fucking giving up. I based this on, and recommend listening along to, the song KILLED BY ANGEL by Alice Schach and the Magic Orchestra. As I said, read the warnings and take them seriously. This is fucked up.

June ██ , 1941

Joseph stared at his precious baby boy, held tenderly by his dear wife, Aino, with stars in his eyes. Despite a thin layer of blood and his wife's fluids coating his features, the infant seemed to glow, dazzle even.

The little one will be christened with the name Aleksander-Erik. But he has always been known as Alex by those who regarded him dearly.

Aleksander-Erik Ivanova, the name rolled off Joseph's tongue like a holy prayer. It was a strong name, a name the boy would need if he were to take over his father's winery. Aino, on the other hand, thought the name was a mouthful.

The small baby reached out to his father, chubby hands grabbing his scruffy beard. He gave a soft tug, and a darling giggle at his papa's small grunt.

He is beloved.

August ██ , 1947

Aleksander is six years old. He sits in an uncomfy chair just outside the delivery room, and can hardly hear his dear mama's exclamations over his own sobbing. The bright lights and white walls overwhelm him, and he cries louder. The nurse next to him squeezes his hand in comfort.

He hiccups between tears if his mother will be okay. The nurse squeezes his hand again.

"She will be okay, Aleksanki, she's giving birth to your little sister,"

He's going to be a big brother. Other boys at his daycare talk about their baby siblings, and call them annoying and loud. They say they want their baby siblings to go away.

He hopes that she's not annoying and loud. He hopes his little sister will be great. But he's scared.

September ██ , 1947

She was named Maria. She was named after the Holy Mary, but also because her name means "star" and such. Aino chuckled tiredly as she watched her husband gush over his baby daughter. She leaned over to her son and jokingly mumbled to him that Maria can also mean "bitterness".

Joseph's pride and joy is his daughter, he'd give everything to see her blossom into a successful flower of pure beauty. She's still very little, and can't even roll onto her tummy, but he will praise the baby girl any chance he can get.

Although, he's often at his winery, individually quality-checking each bottle. The best of the batch were carried home by him to indulge in and share with his wife.

June ██ , 1949

Aleksander is eight years old. Maria is a rather stoic one-year-old. It was his birthday some days ago, and ever since, his father has put him to work.

He has gone out net-fishing with Aino, and to the town square to sell the fruits (well, fish) of their labor. He's been with his father to the winery, helping pull wagons of the finest and highest quality of the batch back home.

His father has signed him onto the school running team, soccer team, and hockey team. Aleksander doesn't enjoy all these activities, perhaps he would if it was one or the other, but all three at once is overwhelming. But he's too people-pleasing to tell his prideful father off.

Maria is a strange baby. She doesn't cry, rather, she gnaws on her chubby hands until someone takes notice. Aleksander frets constantly over his little sister, and comes with tear-filled eyes to his mother saying Maria is sick each time she goes a-gnawin'.

Aino worries for her daughter's sake, but Joseph only berates her for believing her son's concern over nothing. He thinks his daughter is perfect just the way she is.

January ██ , 1952

Aleksander is ten years old. Maria is four years old. The little girl has a whole bedroom to herself now, walls decorated with stickers and her pockets always stuffed with candies.

She has a big loft bed adorned with shiny jewelry she'll never wear, causing it to resemble a castle somewhat. Which is fitting, as the small girl is spoiled like a princess, well, at least by her father.

Aleksander can chop wood now. His father aided him in his first week with the labor, and then left him to it. His mother remarks he's much better than his father at the job, and quicker too, which drives him to continue no matter how much his hands hurt and bleed.

But he has to be honest with himself, if it weren't for his mother, he would've quit all the chores a long time ago.

January ██ , 1954

Aleksander is twelve years old. Maria is six years old. The night sky glimmered indifferently.

The delivery room is in hysterics. The doctors yell out to the nurses "Breech!", as they hurry about to begin a C-section. Controlled chaos or orderly madness could be a descriptor.

He can't help it, he feels like a little kid, but he's sent to tears once again. Aleksander is crying, sniffling loudly as a nurse tries to hush him. The screams of his mother pierce his ears and drives him to sob. His younger sister, Maria, snoozes peacefully in the crook of his neck.

Joseph is escorted by two nurses into the lobby, as he curses indecipherable chains of swears. Even he doesn't truly know what he's angry about.

Now it's a gamble, a game of chance, and a race against time.

January ██ , 1954 Hours Later

The doctor comes into the lobby solemnly. Joseph cradles his two children against his body as they sleep, when he's approached by the downtrodden doctor.

He says Aino is dead, declaring it so with a roundabout explanation.

At the cost of its mother's life, the baby emerged healthy, and with a victorious, hair-splitting wail of life. It was quite loud, and some nurses remark their ears ringing.

Joseph's leg stops bouncing. His highschool sweetheart, apple of his eye, his wife whom he moved halfway across Europe to marry, dead? He silently cherished that woman.

He stares down the doctor, eyes ablaze with anger and grief. It's quite ominous. Instead of a shouting match breaking out, Joseph just hunches over to cry silently.

████ ██ , 1959

Aleksander is sixteen years old. Maria is eleven years old. Their little sister is five years old.

His new little sister was named Ana. No frills or bells or whistles to the name, just simple and quaint. Which Aleksander adored.

Maria didn't share the sentiment. Her brother's undivided attention was now split up, and her dear old dad slowly is consumed by depression. This is all Ana's fault. She will suffer for something she cannot control.

Joseph has dropped the care of his youngest into the laps of his olders. One bottle of fine wine at a time, he'll drink himself to death.

Aleksander is trying to keep the family together. He doesn't know how, but through his kindness and caring nature, he can try to stitch the crooked quilt of his family back together.

June ██ , 1960

Aleksander is seventeen years old. Maria is twelve years old. Ana is six years old.

Nobody celebrated his birthday this year. No cake, no decor, it was as if he were never born at all. His little sister got the same treatment, but Aleksander gifted her his old baby blanket, hand-knitted by their mother.

Her smile stretched so wide it came off her face, eyes sparkling, "Tänan, Alex!"

He would kill to see her that happy every day.

Joseph has been lashing out. Aleksander takes the beatings for his siblings, even if it hurts, even if it takes some derring-do.

May ██ , 1965

Aleksander is twenty-one years old. Maria is seventeen years old. Ana is eleven years old.

Joseph can't stand to look at Ana. He wants to knock the teeth out of her mouth. She peeves him to no end. Her bravado does remind him of Aino, though. He hates her.

Aleksander refuses to leave the house now, for his siblings' safety, and Maria now does the grocery trips. His little sister frantically insists that Maria shouldn't be trusted with that duty.

Joseph stares at Ana.

June ██ , 1965

She wakes up. She feels bare, rather chilly. A heavy weight straddles her torso, with a bucking sensation lurching her smaller body.

Blood. Her own blood soaks her bedsheets. She can't even scream. It's as if she were paralyzed. Her vision goes spotty. Blood. Blood seeps out as a warm feeling fills her up. She fazes out of consciousness once again.

She wakes up, later. Her sheets are tough with dried blood. She's scared. She doesn't know what happened. She's scared. Terrified.

"Alex, why does my tummy hurt so much?"

December ██ , 1965

On her mother and father's bed, she births a very small infant, lacking any of his right arm below the elbow, huffing and puffing trying to get air into his malformed lungs.

Aleksander helped her birth the little one, as Maria watched from a distance, looming in the doorframe like an omen of death.

She was feeling ill for the past few months, and her tummy grew, but Joseph did nothing but make remarks about how fat she was getting.

The jeers and hormones were getting to her. It was like they crawled under her skin and rotted her from the inside out. She wants to get them out. She cuts and cuts and still they won't come out of her skin.

The little one managed to live. He was Ana's son. But it always felt better if he was called their baby brother.

February ██ , 1966

Aleksander is twenty-two years old. Maria is seventeen years old. Ana is twelve years old.

They named their new little brother Olev. He's bratty in a petty way only a baby can muster, but he often gets side-stepped in the day-to-day.

Maria doesn't lurk around as often anymore. She's often out and about on grocery runs or walks. Although, friendly neighborhood cats aren't showing up to doorsteps anymore. It seems the breadth of the stress is affecting her.

Aleksander knows exactly why Olev was born. He saw the blood in Ana's sheets. He heard her morning bouts of vomit. He's supposed to be her big brother. He's going to protect her.

March ██ , 1967

Aleksander is twenty-three years old. Maria is eighteen years old. Ana is thirteen years old. Olev is a year old.

Aleksander became a man today.

He took the axe, the axe he had been using for nearly the past decade to chop wood, to sever Joseph's head from his body.

The gore was ghastly and unsightly, but somehow so cathartic. He had to hide the body, and clean up the blood, so his siblings wouldn't be exposed to something so shocking.

Aleksander regrets not doing that sooner.

Maria threw a tantrum when Joseph didn't return. She trashed the house, overturning chairs and putting holes into the walls. She brutalized Ana, making the girl a bloodied mess. She frightened Aleksander.

What has he done?

November ██ , 1970

Aleksander is twenty-six years old. Maria is twenty-one years old. Ana is sixteen years old. Olev is four years old.

Maria has been raining true torment unto her family as of late. Probably due to the death of their father.

Aleksander has become more timid, and easier to make flinch. Ana has to step up and be the adult, because the troubled mind of her brother slips him in and out of a regressed state. Olev has grown up in the mayhem, so he's used to it, but he continues to cry when Maria and Ana fall into a yelling match.

In her scarce free time, Ana has been occupying herself with the televized footage of "The Gravel War". It's a rather useless battle over gravel, but the footage kindles the small, nearly-out flame of childishness in her.

Her gracious sister, Maria, embezzles their dead father's company to buy three connecting flights and a helicopter ride to get to Teufort, New Mexico; the site of The Gravel Wars.

Once they were hovering over the battle, Ana noticed the ground was approaching faster and faster. Until it went black with a cold splash.

November ██ , 1970 Hours Later

The sun descends behind the horizon. Her head throbs with pain. There's water that laps at her body. The scent of gunpowder and smoke occasionally brushes past her nose.

Where is she?

She thinks she knows why she's here. But she doesn't know where here is.

She's scared. She sobs.

The sun descends further down the horizon by the time she stops crying. The yellow splintering light has now faded into oranges and purples, and stars start to speckle the sky.

She realizes she's on the battlefield. The Gravel Wars battlefield. She doesn't know why, but she starts crawling. She starts crawling for anything. For a person, for death, for her own comfort, for a reason only god knows.

....to be continued in the 100-Follower special, "New Life. New You."

[zenlesszonezero]

As the conspiracy reaches its finale, the Void Hunter joins the fight.

Uncover the Conspiracy in Zenless Zone Zero's All-New Version "A Storm of Falling Stars", S-Rank Agent Hoshimi Miyabi is here! With S-Rank Agent Asaba Harumasa Limited-Time Giveaway! Pre-register to obtain additional rewards.

[seth-burroughs]

Yomi Hellsmile evil thoughts pfp for my secret side I'm keeping from the general public How many more versions will I slap on this wretched png. Evil time

[neurdogic]

painful

[lance-space-mommy]

Riding a Wave That Never Breaks

Manga spoilers and Dark themes

Sometimes you can’t escape your inner demons no matter how much time has passed. Four amazing years may pass, but that darkness is only one storm away.

Midoriya struggled a lot with depression growing up. Despite having a loving mother and a safe home environment, the torture he suffered through the day was too much.

Midoriya loved everything about the hero world and how he could escape into fantastic fantasies. He was constantly diving deep, imagining alternate universes where he was respected by his peers. Midoriya craved positive attention or for the hollow feeling inside him to vanish.

On the days Midoriya didn’t have school, he’d curl up in his bed and never move. Unless his mother sweetly called him for dinner or suggested some bonding time, the day was spent wasting away underneath a comforter.

Midoriya was lucky to have met Toshinori. The man gave Midoriya a sense of purpose that he had been missing. Toshinori saw something in Midoriya that Midoriya never saw in himself. It was like he was reborn, suddenly showered in affection, and given a list of things to do to better himself.

Midoriya trained his mind and body every day. Midoriya was eating healthy and filling meals three times a day. By the end of the day, Midoriya was ready to sleep. With getting proper sleep, intake of nutrients, and producing endorphins through intense training, Midoriya was feeling much better.

Despite the upward climb, there were times Midoriya gave into the gloom. He’d skip showering, not study, ignore the tangles in his hair, never change out his uniform at the end of the day, sleep the day away, not sleep at all, and a plethora of other things he did when things were getting bad.

Neglecting his needs was one thing, but he’d harm himself in more direct ways. He never thought much about it, simply seeing it as a way to relieve the tension in his head and the tightness in his chest. He did it in places he knew would never see the light of day.

In a short two years, Midoriya was seventeen and dealing with mountains of trauma he didn’t know how to digest. Midoriya was surrounded by people who brought out the best in him, but he could feel himself slipping.

“I’m not hungry, sorry.”

“I really needed to catch up on sleep.”

“Can we reschedule? I’m so sorry something came up.”

“Sorry, I’m a bit behind on my studies.”

“Maybe some other time?”

Midoriya slowly withdrew himself from his peers. With the door locked, lights off, and the silence of the soundproof walls made it easy for the sickening sweet voice in the back of his mind to grow louder.

“Was this all worth it?”

“You served your purpose, you aren’t needed anymore.”

“They probably are happy you aren’t around as much.”

“That sounds like so much work.”

“You really can’t amount to anything.”

“A lazy hero is good for nothing.”

With an empty stomach and an ache in his heart, Midoriya closed his eyes and slept the dark thoughts away. When an alarm broke him out of his nightmare, he slept through his usual morning run.

It didn’t take long for everyone to notice something was off. Todoroki, worried and unsure of what to do in this situation, practically fed Midoriya lunch, not giving him a chance to skip a meal. If he had to guilt-trip Midoriya into it he would.

“I got this just for you,” revealed Todoroki, extending out the warm bowl of katsudon.

Midoriya would softly smile, sitting next to his best friend and enjoying the warm meal. The perfect crunch of the breading and the juiciness of the pork nearly brought him to tears. It didn’t matter what meal it was, Midoriya would swallow every last bite to respect his friend's kindness.

Bakugo talked with Toshinori and Aizawa, knowing that they may no longer be Midoriya’s teachers, but they were parental figures. He knew something was wrong and this was bigger than him and his classmates. Aizawa and Toshinori weren’t constants in Midoriya’s life, but their value remained. Their assistance would mean so much more than the nineteen people who are constantly around him.

During the war, Midoriya never once reached out for help when he was working himself to death. If Midoriya was experiencing something that was troubling him or he couldn’t save himself from whatever he was going through, Bakugo would pull him out.

It seemed that Toshinori and Aizawa had a hunch that something like what was happening would happen soon enough. Aizawa knew very well that the trauma Midoriya refused to acknowledge would come back tenfold.

Toshinori knew the psychological damage he experienced over the years by dealing with his demons. Being the number one hero and having the entire world on his shoulders was a burden he wouldn’t wish on anyone. That’s why he originally gave Midoriya the quirk. He believed he was simply passing on a powerful quirk.

When it came out that All for One was not dead and that he had a successor, Toshinori felt guilt consume him. He put Midoriya in a situation far worse than the one he’d lived through.

Midoriya watched nearly all the people he cared about die and/or be on the brink of death. Midoriya watched thousands of innocent people die, unable to do anything. There was an evil far worse than any the world had seen before and Midoriya had to face it himself.

Midoriya had to shove all his emotions deep down as he was forced to see the corpse of someone he cherished dearly. Midoriya was a kid but wasn't in a position to handle the situation as one.

Midoriya was struggling with the trauma of the war and the pressure he was put under. Midoriya would forever be scarred from the responsibility placed in his hand. Yet, deep down, Midoriya was ashamed of the itch he had to be important.

There was this craving for chaos and the fight to the death. Suddenly nothing was going on and the feeling of worthlessness settled in. Midoriya didn't want innocent people to die again or for the world to be in danger, but he felt like something was missing without the danger.

The guilt of missing something so horrible killed him more than what he was put through. Maybe they were interconnected in some way but, in Midoriya's mind, wanting it to happen again was a different trauma response than his episode of depression.

Sometimes, Midoriya's brain filled itself with noise when the world was too quiet. The earth-shattering sounds of the battle and his scream mixing with the screams of the rest of the world would haunt him. The rare spots on his wall where there was no All Might merchandise, Midoriya's eyes would focus on the white wall and let the rest of his room fade away.

Midoriya could fall into a staring contest with his wall while standing, sitting, or lying down. There were no limits and he usually would catch himself doing it whenever he was in the security of his room. These moments of pure disassociation could last from anywhere of a couple of seconds to over an hour.

It was Saturday night and Bakugo was going to drag Midoriya down to study with the class. He figured surrounding him with everyone would help get him out of his head a bit. He always liked to think he knew Midoriya the best, but he didn't know the first thing to do to help Midoriya snap out of whatever mental decline he was trapped in.

"Izuku, I'm coming in," announced Bakugo, hand already turning the door handle.

Bakugo didn't think much about not receiving any response and opened the door. Midoriya was on his bed, lying on his side as he stared at his wall motionlessly.

"Nerd?"

Midoriya didn't seem to notice Bakugo or even signal he heard Bakugo address him. Bakugo started panicking, worried Midoriya was unresponsive. Bakugo started looking over Midoriya after dropping to his knees beside the bed.

"Shit, Izuku. Look at me!" begged Bakugo, reaching to check for a pulse. He cursed himself for not paying closer attention to Midoriya's health. It took seconds for Bakugo to feel the steady thumping of Midoriya's pulse under his fingers.

Midoriya blinked, feeling the warm touch and wanting to lean into it. His vision of the wall was blocked by Bakugo's worried expression and he couldn't help but feel like everything was okay for this split second in time.

Tears started falling and Midoriya couldn't find the strength in himself to stop. Midoriya let his whole body shake with each sob he let rip through his body. He hated feeling so hopeless and feeling stuck in such a horrible mindset. It was a scary feeling to have no control over.

Bakugo didn't need to hear anything to know that Midoriya needed him at that moment. Bakugo reached for Midoriya's hand and took it securely in his own before resting his forehead against Midoriya's. Rough and crooked fingers intertwined and squeezed soft and powerful fingers.

"I don't know what to do Kacchan," wept Midoriya, feeling safe to express himself.

Bakugo remained quiet momentarily before letting his gut do the talking. "You don't have to know what to do all the time. Sometimes life sucks and you have to let others make it less shitty."

Midoriya cried harder, pulling out his other hand to gently wrap it against Bakugo's wrist. "I can't do this anymore."

"And you don't have to. I'm here. If you can't handle burdens on your own, I'm here. Let me help, Izuku," stressed Bakugo, brushing Midoriya's bangs out of his forehead. "I'll be there to save you every time you need a hero."

Midoriya felt like the room was no longer caving in on him and that the world finally had air to spare. His grip on Bakugo momentarily tightened before he took a deep breath. There was something so incredible about Bakugo and how he never failed to be Midoriya's anchor. Bakugo never failed to reach his hand out to lift Midoriya out of the pit he was trapped in.

“Let’s go take a shower, grab you something to eat, and how about we go study? You don’t need to be alone and if you get overwhelmed we can ditch,” guided Bakugo as he removed his one hand from Midoriya’s bangs to poke his freckles.

Still feeling vulnerable, Midoriya let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, can you just stay here with me for a bit?”

Bakugo rose from his uncomfortable position and crashed beside Midoriya on his bed. “You could ask me to destroy the world and I’d do it.”

Midoriya smiled, feeling his cheeks heat up by the powerful confession. “You sure know how to make a boy feel special.”

“After existing in a world without you… I never wanted to experience it again.”

Midoriya suddenly realized he had something he could use to anchor himself down. He remembered seeing Bakugo lying in the crumbling field of injured heroes. He remembered the dread that filled him upon seeing the sickeningly beautiful sight of Bakugo’s peaceful resting expression. The crushing horror of seeing his unbreathing, bloodied body would forever haunt his dreams.

Why would he give up a life where Bakugo was right next to him?

“I never want to experience it either,” professed Midoriya, feeling a warmth fill his chest, seeing the scars that littered Bakugo’s body. Those scars were proof that this boy before him would always defy and twist fate to come back to him.

The downward spiral ended when he was forced to remember every wonderful thing he had to live for. He had to live for Bakugo, Todoroki, Uraraka, Eri, Aizawa, Toshinori, his mother, and the surplus of people whom he never wanted to live without.

Overcoming depression wasn’t easy and his recovery wasn’t going to be fast. There would be those moments when the exhaustion that filled him was too much or the pressure of outside expectations killed his appetite and kept him up at night. The battle was a lot easier being surrounded by people who never failed to bring a smile to his face.

Freshly cleaned and fed, Midoriya had his bookbag filled with unfinished homework and study guides. Bakugo was right next to him, wearing an accomplished grin as he plopped down next to Midoriya. The excited greetings of his classmates washed away any bits of anxiety that he may have had left.

“Ready to get this study game on?” questioned Kirishima happily upon seeing two of his best buds appear together.

“Yeah! I’ll admit I’m a bit behind,” admitted Midoriya meekly.

Iida seemed to not care about the fact that Midoriya got behind on schoolwork and smiled warmly. “Well let’s get you caught up!”

Midoriya eagerly nodded, feeling the buzz of his classmate's excitement rub off on him. They were all gathered together to study, but Midoriya couldn’t help but be overjoyed to be with them at that moment.

Things would be okay.

[junior-high-rui-official]

...

Rui wakes up on his couch-bed as his alarm goes off. 7am. Time to start the walk to school.

When he wakes up, it's quiet. It's too quiet, silence hanging in the air like fog. It makes his legs freeze up with an anxious dread, like the way the cold, misty air outside pierces his skin and makes it difficult to walk.

He looks around the sidewalk.

He doesn't belong here.

...once he reaches the school, he walks into his homeroom class, as usual. He doesn't want to- the dread travels up from the stagnant place it took in his leaden legs and travels up the rest of his body.

Taking a deep breath in and entering the classroom, squeezing his eyes shut while he tries to tune out the short murmur of giggles and indecipherable comments that take place whenever he enters this classroom.

He doesn't belong here.

For some reason, it feels worse.

Why can't he tune it out?

Why can't he tune anything out? Not the commentary of the students or the lessons from the teacher, nothing. It's beginning to get to him, but he'll manage.

...

The bell rings. He stands up.

He walks straight down the hall to the stairs, and trudges up them. Something is gnawing at him, scratching out a hole in his chest, it feels. The trip up the stairs seems longer than usual. His legs are sore by the end of it.

He sits down on the rooftop's bench.

Something's different.

What is it?

What's different?

What is it, grating down his heart so dreadfully?

...

Mizuki's not here.

That's what it is. Mizuki isn't here.

He opens his phone to message them, only to find their number isn't saved anymore.

Oh.

They must have blocked him.

He sits, paralyzed.

He wasn't supposed to be up here.

He doesn't belong here.

Mizuki would be there any moment, and she wouldn't want to see him up here.

She wouldn't want to be around him, period.

...

He remains there for an undetermined amount of time, before he suddenly stands up and begins to run. Down the stairs. Through the halls. Being up there must have warped time. he hears the end bell ring and sees students pack up. He's still running.

Running, until he reaches his house. It has an eerie aura about it. he can't call it home, no matter how he tries to. It's not his home. He doesn't belong here.

He stares at the residence next to it. Nene's.

It's like moving through tar, but he drags his feet to her front door, and rings the bell.

Nene opens the door. Her lavender eyes are...blank. looking straight at him, devoid of emotion. Devoid of any surprise, or timidity, or cheer, or anything.

She stares at him for what feels like an eternity. Time stops. He stops breathing. His heart stops beating. His blood turns to ice.

She closes the door in his face.

He hears the lock turn.

a wordless rejection.

He doesn't have a place here, either.

He doesn't belong here.

He doesn't belong here.

He doesn't belong here.

.

.

.

He wakes up with a start.

He can't see through the darkness of the room, nor can he hear anything over the ringing in his ears and his heart pumping ice-cold blood. He can feel his chest moving, pressing against the shaking hand he's clutched to it.

He reaches for his phone.

He turns on the screen.

4:38 A.M.

It was a dream.

He drops the phone, allowing it to slide down his leg, off the couch and come to a quiet thud on the floor.

Dream or not, it's left him horribly agitated. The feeling of loneliness- less like a gnawing feeling now and more like something that rips at his heart, tearing him apart from the inside out.

He didn't want to be alone.

He couldn't stand it, or the thought of it, but he had no choice at the moment. He felt strangled. He couldn't speak if he wanted to.

The dream... thinking about it shook something deep within him, something that made his body want to tear itself apart, that made his limbs feel like those of an inanimate ragdoll, that made his head feel full of static, that made his stomach churn and tie itself in knots.

...!!

Hardly able to move, he stumbles out of bed and across his room, dragging his blanket with him as he drops to his knees and grabs onto the small garbage can next to the door and begins retching and sputtering.

He can't do this. He can't.

He can't stand to be alone.

But that's all he is, is alone.

And it feels like that's all he ever will be.

...

once he can move again, he stands up on shaky legs, trying to get his bearings.

He can't. His head is spinning.

He creeps over to a corner of his room, and situates himself in that spot, pulling his legs tight to his chest. Tighter. Tighter. Making his arms shake and go numb. Digging his nails into his knees.

The pitch-black darkness of his room, cut only by the moonlight barely making its meager way through the curtains, is thick and heavy. oppressive. suffocating.

He breathes it in, and it makes its way through his body, chilling him to his core.

And in that deafening, stuffy darkness, he begins to shed cold tears.