#tw selfharm speak

[superdumbfan]

I've been up for hours. I have always had the sensory issues but it wasn't until I got out of my dad's abusive house that they really hit me and now I'm up right now literally coughing up loogies that are pink from blood and fighting the urge to literally claw my skin off. It sounds like some edgy thing some kid would have put here on Tumblr in 2008. I hate everything I want to die it sucks so fucking bad. I clean and clean and clean off my bed before laying on it I make my bed I make sure everything is to a tee. And no matter how many fucking time to do with the bed still has something on it it could be as clean as marble and it's still feels like I'm laying in the fucking desert. Always starts off feeling like I'm laying on Sand then it gets itchy to the point that it's unbearable and I just want to claw my skin off and it hurts it stops being itchy and just straight up hurts. I am so tired and I'm just crying Non-Stop and I can't even stop myself from crying and it sucks. I'm tired I'm always you never feeling comfortable in my own skin in a literal way not metaphorical not oh I look in the mirror and I'm ugly literally feeling uncomfortable in my skin I want to be skin I would pay for someone to find a way to live without skin. This is literal agony and it's always hits me when I'm vulnerable. It never hits me in the middle of the day when I'm just chilling relaxing it's always when I'm trying to go to sleep or do something important it's always in the middle of a test or some other bull like that. It's always there I don't know what I did I'm not a good person I know I haven't taken it. And no matter how much I look stuff up we can't find any way to fix this I don't have money to buy a weighted blanket. And my next therapy appointment in this until Wednesday. Sometimes I think if I didn't make a promise that I made my mom I probably be dead. I just said melatonin and I'm hoping that I've been to just get worn out from crying and fall asleep. But it sucks that I even have to do that I want to be a normal person so waiting to sit on my bed and go to sleep. No crying no tantrum no painful itching sensation no need to literally sit as still as possible just hope that it can fall asleep without literally crying so hard that I can't speak anymore.

I just want to be "normal" person i feel bad I don't want to be neurodivergent. I want to be able to do things normally without my brain trying to punish me. This is like living hell. And it's so much worse cuz I never never the problem when I'm like distracted throughout the day I sit on the same bed all day and watch TV and do other things I work on my bed because it's the only thing I have and there's no problem the second that I actually got to go to sleep it's like oh no now your bed is made out of needles and sand and bugs. If I didn't promise my mom I wouldn't kill myself I probably do that right now. I hate everything I hate this I'm going to sleep so badly I'm literally writing this while crying and so tired that I could fall asleep but my body won't let me I'm so so tired this isn't fair.

Please please please please please please if anyone knows anything that can help please tell me I am literally having panic attacks and I can't do this. I am on the verge of just scratching all my skin off Jesus Christ and I don't even know why my brain would act like this why am I so faulty that my brain actively makes my life worse what is the possible reason that my brain would act like this

[wishing-on-a-snowflake]

“do you have thin lips or full lips?” i have swollen lips because i bite and peel at them to distract myself from the nagging feeling of guilt and shame, because it's what i deserve for ruining our friendship, because no matter how many times people say im doing the right thing, it doesnt fix or heal anything, because how else do i atone for the pain ive caused

[h2llish]

there is a form of cannibalism known as autocannibalism, where one consumes a part of themselves. this can be in small things, such as nails or hair, but can become much more extreme by consuming parts of their skin. one form of autocannibalism often talked about, is the consumption of the placenta by people with a uterus after giving birth.

autocannibalism is considered a form of self-harm and can be taken quite seriously if it gets too bad.

tagging: @tetrxctys

[bots-and-cons]

That time of the year again...

This is pretty much purely a vent post, so if you don't feel like reading, don't. I'd like to start with saying that I'm in a larger scale okay, and this too will pass

I remember writing a similar post around the same time last year. I guess this is going to be a repeat thing, at least for the next couple of years. My grandma died in June 2020, and I honestly don't remember much from around that time, probably because of the depression and general bad times. I found an obituary from the first of July that year for my grandma, and I'm pretty sure the funeral was somewhere in the middle of June. It honestly wasn't as hard on me as I had imagined, probably because even though she was alive, she had been gone for a long time already. That of course doesn't mean it wasn't hard or that it didn't make me really upset for a long time after she passed. She was one of my favorite people in the world, and I loved her dearly.

Two years later on the first of July in 2022 Technoblade's passing was announced by his family on his YouTube channel. I had started watching him in 2019, which was the time I was badly depressed, suicidal and actively self harming. I was still in high school back then and would be until the end of May in 2021. It was a bad time for me and his videos were a big source of laughter, which was a rare thing for me at that time. I don't remember much from that time tbh, but I remember watching the potato war videos and having a genuinely good time, even if it was only for that 20 minutes. I originally heard about Technoblade from my younger brother, and we also bonded a lot over his videos. His videos brought us closer as siblings and we talked a lot about a new video whenever one was published. Techno's videos and streams helped me through a lot of tough times, which is probably why his passing was so hard on me. The two years since his passing, I always get recommended tribute videos and memorial stuff like animatics people have made around this time of year. I've been crying my eyes out for pretty much every night again for about the past week. I've just not been having the best time recently.

Another thing I've been thinking about because of the anniversary of Techno's death is that I'm going to be 24 in a bit under a week. Techno died when he was 23, he was so young. I don't really know how to articulate how I'm feeling about this, but confusion is probably the best word. I don't know how to feel, how am I even supposed to feel? The world isn't fair, it doesn't matter how amazing of a person someone might be, cancer doesn't discriminate. Shitty things don't care how old you are or how much good you've done, they will come all the same.

Anyway, I guess I'm just feeling stressed and kinda sad. My summer courses suck and I hate that I took them in the first place, it's just constant stress, and I'm annoyed all the time. I'll survive, even if what I'm currently feeling sucks ass ＞﹏＜

[cyberr-v0id]

Why’s her skin red? Cause she’s been ripping out her hairs again

[thinkingotherwise]

hii!

There are very few blogs that write about wind breaker, and I think your writing is very good.I would like to request Sakura, Sugishita and Umemiya (separately), pining for a fem reader and how they would cope with their crush without her knowing.

The reader is foreign (Colombia), she speaks several languages ​​such as Japanese, English and French.She is talented in the arts (she studies at an arts academy), plays the piano, drawing, gymnastics and singing. She comes from a very rich family, her father is a metal singer and her mother is a martial arts teacher. I am a fan of curvy readers with a power character and stronger, she is kind but you don't really notice it since she is a sarcastic girl and a little cruel when she jokes without realizing it. She has a very well-groomed sense of fashion and changes his style very quickly but she loves boots of any kind. She is someone serious when she does not get into confidence especially with men (since she mostly does not have male friends), but when she does get into confidence she talks too much and tells black jokes, her laugh becomes loud and loud, she forgets manners and becomes becomes playful like touching or pinching your friends. She loves metal music but listens to all kinds of music. Before, she self-harmed because she didn't feel enough due to the pressure of always having been talented, that's why she has a long scar on her right leg and a few on her arms. She managed to overcome it with therapy and she doesn't care what her scars look like. She can be considered quite "crazy" because of her tastes, such as her somewhat macabre paintings or her jokes.

This was very long, sorry, but I got too excited.

Excited is good ;)

Sorry for the wait, I still have some more requests from April to finish.

Haruka Sakura, Kyotaro Sugishita, Hajime Umemiya x fem! Artistic! Sarcastic! reader

TW: selfharm/scar (mentioned)

Haruka Sakura

Even before Haruka realized he had a crush on you, he was in awe of your artistic skills, as well as linguistics. He was excited to get to know you were from out of Japan and he'd still randomly ask you different things about your country and the culture, and how much it was distinct from what you had in Japan. He'd ask you to say stuff in different languages, and in return, you'd make him pronounce them. He was amazed at your accents and words, while you were laughing at the way he pronounced them.

When it came to your questionable nature of joking and talking with others, at first, he thought that your jabs and cruel jokes were attacks on him. In that case, you'd return them even trying to pick up a fight with you. Even after all the time you spent together, he'd keep it up but he'd rather tackle you than punch you. He was aware it was how you normally behaved but he still wanted to let you know some might not be as understanding as he got used to.

Since the first time he got to know you, he was curious about your scar but waited for you to tell him first knowing some things are better kept as secrets for the time being. After he realized he liked you and then you did tell him about it, when you became a little closer, he'd surprise you by giving the bestest, longest, and coziest hug you could receive from him.

Being his crush would mean being taken care of in this strange aggressive, yet timid way.

Kyotaro Sugishita

At the beginning of, your rather questionable friendship, the both of you were quiet, him being that way normally and you trying to figure him out. With time passing you got used to him, thinking he was doing the same, but you finally realized it was his personality, so you took it upon yourself to be the more confident and talkative person.

Whenever you made him laugh or smile you'd celebrate it like it was the greatest success ever. You noticed he'd laugh rather easily if you were to joke at Sakura, responding to him sarcastically and making the boy confused.

Anytime you showed him your paintings he was surprised by your talent and imagination. He would ask you to describe the painting, what you drew, and how. It would be baffling to some that he'd become so interested but you appreciated it and went on and on about your art.

He'd also find appeal in your music, even if it was mostly metal he liked it, and even more, he enjoyed spending time with you while you showed the different songs to him.

When he realizes he has a crush he gets very invested in your hobbies, he could listen to you play or watch you draw for hours. Spending every minute he can with you.

Hajime Umemiya

Hajime got along with you the best since the beginning. He didn't mind whenever you started laughing and being touchy or pinching. When he realized he had some deeper feelings for you, than only friendship he would easily respond to your touchiness with his. He'd not leave you alone, when you started the little game, and be all over you trying to tickle you. You'd end up in a rather heated but also playful war.

You spent so much time together, he'd quickly understood that your cruel jokes are part of your character, and when he knew you didn't mean something, he'd playfully pinch you letting you know you're going too far. The both of you would be soo loud together while laughing and enjoying your company, you'd make Hiiragi's head hurt, and all the Bofurin to hear you.

Your styling skills made such an impact on Hajime. He loved it whenever you changed styles, he could watch you in so many different clothes and still be amazed by how good you looked. He himself didn't have any style, as most of his friends told him, so he sometimes asked you to lend him a hand and make him look cool as the leader of Bofurin.

As soon as he develops a crush on you he's more aware of the switch in you, emotional, as well as, physical. He'd always try to talk about them with you because he knows how hard it can be, and how much having someone to share it with can help.

Taglist: @misticbullet

[lenisoldi]

Request/Genes Reaction

Masterlist

!TW!: Selfharming!

BoB boys reaction to your selfharming:

Welshy:

His cheerful expression dropped as he took a sharp intake of breath. His heart pounded hard in his chest as he reached out a steady hand, placing it gently on your shoulder. Harry's eyes were wide and serious, a rare sight, and he looked straight into yours, genuine concern etched into his features. "Hey," he said softly, "What's goin' on here? We need to talk about this." He had seen the scars before, but never fresh ones like these. He bit his lower lip nervously, trying to find the right words. How could anyone hurt themselves like this? His mind raced as he fought back a wave of protective anger. He remembered the countless times he had seen his comrades in pain, but this was different, more personal somehow. He felt helpless, yet determined to do something, anything to make it better.

Dick:

His heart skipped a beat as he carefully observed the faint lines etched on her skin. He'd seen plenty of injuries during war, but these were different - they weren't inflicted by an enemy; they were self-inflicted, hidden behind layers of uniforms and camaraderie. He gently reached out to touch her arm, his voice steady but tinged with concern. "What happened here?" He asked quietly, hoping he wasn't overstepping any boundaries. His cheerful demeanor momentarily faded, replaced by a look of deep worry. He'd known pain himself, but this... this was something entirely different. Oh God, how did I miss this? She's hurting herself, and I didn't even know. He thought to himself. "Come here." He pulled his wife into a deep hug.

Bill:

"Whoa!" Bill Guarnere exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm. His gaze landed squarely on the bloodied patches of your skin, the sight instantly draining the humor from his face. The cockiness momentarily disappeared as he took a few steps closer to you, eyes narrowing with concern. He clenched his jaw, struggling to find words as the gravity of the situation sank in. "Jesus Christ, what happened here?" he finally managed to ask, his voice gruff but gentle. His demeanor shifted from carefree to serious in a heartbeat, showing the protective side of him that usually only came out around those close to him. He reached out a hand tentatively, stopping just short of touching your arm, unsure if you needed space or comfort. „I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Bill." You cried, but just took you in his arms. „Shh, shh, hey, hey, it's ok, baby, look at me, it's ok. Just let's forget about this." He said and kissed your forehead.

Sparky:

Speirs raised an eyebrow in visible concern and then pulled you aside from the other men.  “Do you mind tellin’ me where those scars are from, Y/N?” He said to you in a calming manner, and yet you could see the hint of worry in his eyes. You didn't answer and just covered your arms. Speirs gently removed your hands from your arms, frowning at the sight of the scars. "Baby..” He sighed. “You know you can talk to me?” He said in a softer voice, looking into your eyes with a kind expression. He then pulled you into a gentle embrace, wrapping his arms around you carefully. You just began to cry and sob quietly. "Baby, don't cry, it's ok. Hey, look at me, it's ok." Ron gently took your face in his hands so you would look at him. “I don't know why..." Your voice broke and you just sobbed even more than before. “Speak to me.. Speak to me when you feel the urge to do it again next time. Promise it me, promise me that you will speak to me." He spoke, still looking into your eyes, his expression soft and loving. You nodded and added nearly inaudible: "I promise... I promise.." “I love you, darling. I love you so much.“ Ron whispered, kissing you on the forehead, and then on the lips.

Babe:

Babe looked at you with deep concern on his face as he noticed the unmistakable signs of self-harm. It ached his heart to see the pain behind your eyes. In a soft, gentle voice, he asked, "What's wrong, love? Why are you hurting yourself?" His words were filled with genuine care and understanding, careful not to sound judgmental or accusatory. He held out a hand with an open palm, hoping to offer some comfort. In his mind, he thought of all the times he had faced his own fears and how important it was to have someone to talk to in those dark moments. He wants to help, understand, and be there for you. While you hesitated to answer, Babe's gaze remained calm and caring, his eyes reflecting his deep compassion. He gently squeezed your hand, reassuring you that you were not alone. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it now, but please remember that I'm here when you're ready. We can tackle this together, like we tackle everything else." His voice was soothing, like a gentle breeze on a summer day. He wondered how long you had been struggling with this and why he hadn't noticed sooner. He promised himself he would be more attentive, be the rock you needed in times of need. Around you, the living room was silent except for the soft crackle of the fireplace in the background. The peaceful atmosphere was a sharp contrast to the turmoil he sensed within you. The warm glow of the lamps cast a calming hue on your faces, as if it encouraged openness and honesty between the two of you. Babe's thoughts were focused on you and your well-being, pushing aside any fears or worries he might have.

Web:

When David walked into the dimly lit living room after a long day at work, his heart immediately sank at the sight of your bandaged wrist. The usually bustling room filled with laughter now seemed heavy with unspoken words. He carefully set down his briefcase and walked over to the couch, where you sat quietly, trying to hide your discomfort. "Hey, what happened?" he asked softly, concern on his face. His gaze was warm but worried, and his voice had a sad undertone. The room was decorated with books, photos of their happy memories together at Harvard, and other wonderful moments they had collected over the years. Normally, the room looked cozy and inviting, but now it was just cold. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering above the bandages for a brief moment before he decided against touching you. His mind raced with questions, but he didn't want to push too hard. He knew you needed space and understanding right now. What could have possibly led you to do this? How can I help? He thought desperately. With a deep breath, he sat down next to you, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you. His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge how much you were willing to share. "We're in this together, you know," he said softly. "Whatever it is you're going through, we can face it as a team." He paused, allowing his words to sink in before adding, "Do you feel comfortable talking about it? I'm here for you, no matter what." David's heart ached seeing you like this, and he wished he could take your pain away. His calm demeanor was a testament to his desire to be strong for you, but inside, he felt a storm brewing. You just leaned against him without saying anything and he decided to accept that you weren't ready to talk about it. The two of you just sat there, hugging each other for the rest of the night, before he noticed that you were asleep and carried you to your bed.

Toye:

The dimly lit room was quiet except for the distant sound of laughter from the hallway. Joe, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, couldn't help but notice something off about you tonight. Your usually bright eyes seemed clouded with sadness, and the sleeves of your shirt kept slipping down, revealing faint scars that told a painful story. He took a deep breath, his raspy voice barely audible even to himself. What's going on here? He thought. She's always so strong, what happened? Gathering all the courage he had, Joe approached you, his expression softening into one of concern. "Hey," he said gently, reaching out to carefully pull back your sleeve. "What are these?" he asked and pointed at your scars, trying to keep his tone neutral yet caring. The room suddenly felt smaller, and he swallowed hard, pushing aside his own playboy persona to make space for genuine worry. His heart sank as he saw the scars on your arm — clearly the result of self-harm. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, but he knew better than to react harshly. Instead, he kneeled down beside you, his gaze filled with empathy and understanding. "Whoa, hey now," he whispered softly, his rough voice betraying the tenderness he felt. "These scars... they ain't right. What's been goin' on?" He took your hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. She needs someone to lean on right now, and I'm gonna be that person. Joe's playboy facade crumbled away, revealing the sweet, caring man beneath. He remembered his own battles and how hard it was to open up about his feelings, so he waited patiently, silently offering you the support you needed at this moment.

[bunniesandsilk]

- final ode

technically a jegulily piece <3

no proof reading lmaoao

cw/tw !! selfharm scars, death, kinda postpartum depression, badly badly wrote bby

a pang of pain hit james as he glanced at the once buzzing room, now covered in a thick layer of dust, regulus had always been an artist, his studio was now just a shell of what it had been, the sense of chaos yet tamed by regulus' soothing presence. in the center of the room regs last piece stood, never to be complete. an painting of lily

regulus had always struggled with words - for as long as james had known him.

reg contrasted james' brash personality same could he said in the sense they both showed their love,

james preferred loud actions, and could easily speak 1000s words standing on top of a table in front of all his friends

where as regulus had always shown his feelings in small and gestures which silently spoke all the words he struggled to say, and thats what this painting perfectly embodied.

shortly after lily had given birth, she entered an deep depression and james tried everything, millions of sweet nothings muttered in her ears, yet nothing seemed to come through to her

but this painting was regulus last love letter for lily, his last ode to them , for all his love for them. thats what the incomplete canvas embodied. the oils still drying, yet the eyes of the artist who had been painting it were dryier then they had ever been. his body was never found so maybe the was hope, hope this painting could be complete, hope they could be them again

[frost-queen]

Black rose in a sea of red (Reader x Jerry Baynard)

Requested by: @alicethewriterandfangirl , Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Summary: TW! Selfharm! You are upset of how your friends have such amazing lives while yours is terrible. Coming from a bad home, your coping behavior is self harm. Struggling with the idea of wanting to end it all, is Jerry there to save you from doing so.

The chattering died away when Miss Stacy settled everyone down. Specifically Anne who was proclaiming her opinion as loud as she could. Almost standing on the table to declare her words. Diana was tugging at her dress to pull her to sit. – “Miss Cuthbert if you please.” – Miss Stacy said giving her a stern glare. Anne chuckled settling down. Ruby was still whispering to Tillie. With one look of Miss Stacy pressed Ruby her lips together with force. Billy snorting across the classroom at how silly she looked.

Miss Stacy cleared her throat letting his chuckle die. When finally the peace had settled clasped Miss Stacy her hands together. – “I hope you all brought your assignments that I handed out last week.” – she started. Anne who was always eager already set her basket on the table, ready to show it to Miss Stacy. Miss Stacy smiled politely ushering her to wait. – “You may all set it on the table if you please.” – she continued giving the signal.

Everyone ducked down to reach in their baskets to set their work of art on the table. You felt uneasy taking out your artwork. Glancing to the side you saw Charlie’s piece of art. Billy and Paul laughing loud. – “Is that an aardvark?” – Billy joked laughing his ass off. Charlie groaned. – “No! It’s a dog.” – he mumbled setting his hand under his chin, pushing his artwork closer to his chest. Gilbert turned around in his seat looking at Billy’s work.

“Is that a self-portrait?” – he said snarky. Billy mimicked a childish laugh, annoyed by his words. – “Well yeah yours…” – Billy got a bit up to look at Gilbert’s work. Gilbert moved aside on purpose for him to see. – “Well yours… yours…” – Billy said trying to find an insult. Gilbert was smiling beyond himself when Billy couldn’t find something bad to say about it. – “I thought so.” – he said turning back around silencing Billy.

Paul laughed loud at how Gilbert had left Billy speechless. Across back by the girls was Anne proudly showing her masterpiece to everyone. – “Did you do this stitching?” – Diana asked pointing at it. Anne shook her head. – “No, Marilla helped me.” – she then pointed at some paint work. – “This is Matthew’s work, and this weird thing was added by Jerry.” – she finished pointing at a wobbly thing at the top. Diana held her art up. – “My mother helped as well. She painted the flowers.” – she commented.

Ruby got up waving her hand in between them for attention. – “My mother helped too! She did this, this, and this.” – she said pointing at several things in different angles. – “What did you do?” – Tillie replied as it appeared Ruby’s mother did everything herself. – “I did this.” – Ruby answered annoyed pointing at her name written in the corner. Diana rolled her eyes at how silly she was.

Seeing their work you rather wanted to crush it or throw it out of the window. Compared to their, yours seemed like it was made by a child. Also hearing them speak so lovingly about how their parents helped out felt like a punch in your gut. It was something you could only dream off, having a loving mother. Your mother didn’t help in your project. You dared ask her one time. That didn’t end well.

You got yelled at for ruining her moment and annoying her with silliness. Looking at your art again of paper mâché you noticed the dent of where your father had stepped on it. On purpose or accident. It didn’t really much as it had ruined it much. Seeing your friends talk so godly about their parents made you want to cry, pull your hair out and scream your lungs out. Ruby and Tillie turned around to you.

“Let me see yours Y/n.” – Ruby spoke as Diana and Anne looked over them. You pulled it closer to your chest, shaking your head. – “It’s…it’s terrible.” – insisting on it. – “Come show us Y/n.” – Tillie said pulling at your hand. You really didn’t want to show her, finding it unworthy. Ruby helped her to pull your hand away. Tillie then snatched it from you. – “Hey!” – you called out catching the attention of some boys across and Miss Stacy who waited to see where this was going.

Tillie held it up before her looking at it with a questioning brow. – “Did your mother help out?” – Ruby asked probably not meaning anything with it. She was always this innocent and naïve, yet it struck a nerve with you. – “No!” – you called out snatching the art from Tillie back. You then it on the ground setting your foot hard on it. Everyone gasped loud at your little act. – “Y/n!” – Miss Stacy called out concerned. You let your fingers brush automatically over your inner arm, knowing of the scars lingering there.

“Brute.” – one of Billy’s friends called out. Miss Stacy shushing him immediately. Miss Stacy approached you, kneeling gently down to pick up your crushed work of art. – “We can still mend this.” – she said with a warm smile. You shook your head. – “It is broken!” – you answered. Just like yourself. Turning your face away from her, you felt ashamed.

Ashamed and unworthy. Truly wondering what the exact point of you was. Not one of them here knowing a darn thing about your family. They had no idea with their wonderous lives, living like princesses. While you crawled through the gutter with no way out. Consistently surrounded by darkness. The only way out of the sinking was the carving. The marks on your inner arms that helped you coped with it.

Miss Stacy reached up to take your hand. The second she had your hand, you pulled it away. Needing to escape you took a run for it. – “Y/n.” – Miss Stacy called out as some jumped up. Gilbert being one of them. He wanted to run after you as Miss Stacy held him back by his shoulder. – “Let us give her a moment in solitude.” – Miss Stacy said sensing you didn’t want any company at this moment. – “But…” – Gilbert started seeing Miss Stacy shake her head.

He sighed deep, slouching his shoulders. He returned to his seat. Miss Stacy set your artwork on her desk, seeing how sloppy it was once your foot had tackled it. You ran frantically into the woods away from the school. Unable to cope with it. The sugary of your friends biting like sour in your flesh. Their life was something you could never achieve. Not with the home situation you have now.

A mother and father who barely looked at you. A brother who tackled you whenever he pleased. All the workload put on you. Treated like dirt by your own family. Never once said an ‘I love you’ or ‘thank you.’ Maybe this was just how things were meant to be. Unloved. Panting loud you kept running coming into different parts of the woods.

Jerry was whistling loud, carrying a sack over his shoulder. He had come back from the market, making his way back to Green Gables. Something caught his sudden attention as he noticed it was you. – “Y/n!” – Jerry shouted happily waving your way. He frowned when you didn’t seem to see him. Simply running past. Jerry lowered his sack questionable. Why weren’t you at school? Why were you running away? Was everything alright?

Feeling a bit worried he picked up his sack again, going after you. Near a shack crashed you down; out of breath. Leaning against the wood you let your head fall back. Still panting till your breathing steadied. Then the thoughts came. Those dark thoughts that always pushed you to the edge. You already know what to do. Reaching in your pocket, you pulled out a sharp object. Then slowly pulling your sleeves up. Scars of old on your flesh.

Those dark thoughts became louder as it made you bring the tip of the sharpness to your wrist. Tears rolled down your cheek as your hand trembled. It would take one impulsive thought for you to bleed. Bleed till your life would slip away. Why shouldn’t you do it? What good was there in this life? There was no one to pull you out so it was easier to just accept it and be rid of this hell.

Gently setting the tip deeper onto your skin, your sight got blurrier from your tears. – “No!” – you suddenly heard startling you so hard, the tip had pressed deeper into your skin. A single drop of blood forming. Jerry rushed over to you, grabbing the sharp thing from your grip, and throwing it as far away from him. – “Don’t you dare!” – he breathed out.

“Don’t you even think about it!” – he said a bit firmer kneeling down in front of you. Grabbing your shoulders, he pulled you close to his chest for a hug. – “Find hope in the hopeless.” – he told you. – “I don’t know what made you do it, but please don’t. I don’t want to lose you… I don’t.” – he embraced you tighter fighting the urge to cry himself. – “Please Y/n…” – he whispered out as you started crying louder.

In the brink of almost doing it was Jerry there to pull you out. – “We’ll figure it out together. I am fighting for you, and I don’t want you to give up.” – wrapping your arms around him, you hugged back. – “Jerry…” – you cried out. Jerry simply held you, no needing an explanation. Just holding you. In that moment where he knew you needed to be seen, heard and loved.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[beanibon]

Millions Knives x SelfHarm!Reader

Kinda my own comfort fic, but I know others want to have their favourite villain to give them cuddles through hard times.

Please take care of yourselves and reach out if you ever need help, my dms are open if you guys ever need to chat 💜

TW: self-harm, self-blame, general topics of depression.

He shouldn't have given it to you, that tiny blade he had snapped from a tendril. A gift he intended for self-defense, a reminder of himself. A courting present.

Now all Knives felt was horror seeing what you had used that gift for, head shaking at the sight before him.

Knives was a destructive being, destroying everything in his path for the sake of his goal, slaughtering and maiming humans. Seeing that blade in your hands, bloodied within those gentle hands of yours, the very same hands that soothe his own pain. It was a reminder that all he brought was destruction, even to those he loved and cherished.

"Knives? You weren't suppose to be back for-"

"Why?" Your eyes turn sullen, finding interest in the floor where you sat. Knives heart ached, ached that you couldn't look at him, ached that you didn't trust him enough to come to him. "Why? Why would you do something like this?"

He didn't mean for his voice to raise in volume, he truly didn't mean it. Knives wasn't angry with you, disgusted by what you've done. He was scared. Memories of his own painful nights at destroying his flesh, experimenting with new blades that he produced at whim.

And to forget the pain of his brother aiming a gun to his skull.

"I didn't give you that to destroy yourself with," Knives hissed out, taking a step towards you, watching as you flinched at his tone. He truly didnt mean to speak to you like you were nothing, yet he couldn���t stop those words from sounding like watered down venom. "I gave you that blade, to remind you of me, and how much I want to protect you." He softened his tone, kneeling before you with an extended hand.

"Please my darling, hand me the blade, let me replace it with something that won't cause you harm." Those baby blues, filled to the brim with nothing but adoration for you, a pathetic human that slithered into his cold heart.

Your usually happy eyes, once brimmed with joy, filled with tears. Quiet sobs racked your body, wilfully releasing the blade to the plant that crumbled it to dust in his own hand.

Soft hands graced his skin, body instinctively tensing, only to relax seconds later. Blood-soaked arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into hug. Knives reciprocated instantly, arms enveloping your tiny body.

It took months for him to allow you to touch him, years till he returned your touch with his own. Now Knives couldn't go without those soft hands holding his face, or massaging his scalp as you forced him to 'sleep'.

Now those soft hands were covered in blood, your blood.

Carefully as to not harm you further, Knives untangled himself from you, holding your arms. Ice blue eyes examined the new cuts littered across your wrists, a sympathetic sigh slipping past his lips.

"This pain is all too familiar to me, I know the urges, the constant need to relieve that agonising pain," Your eyes widened at Knives confession, looking at his own arms despite the suit covering them. "I understand it may take some time to stop, but I will not be apart of your relief, never ask for a blade from me again. Instead come to me so that I can help you overcome this, I'm not that terrifying. . . Am I?"

Quiet laughter broke the frown etched on his features, a small smile replacing it. "You aren't terrifying, at least not to me, not anymore." Those soft hands on his face had him melting, purring into your touch.

"Good, let's get you cleaned up shall we? Perhaps I'll let you make your obnoxious sounding music on my piano." A smug smirk was present on his face the moment your eyes sparkled, you weren't allowed to touch his beautiful piano unless he was guiding you. Otherwise the room would be filled with your childish keyboard smashes until Knives was sulking, silently fuming with a pounding headache he gained afterwards.

"It's called artist keyboard smashing, and you love it." You teased, wiping your dried tears.

Knives chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes as he gently held you in his arms, carrying you to your shared bed. That's where Knives cleaned you up, the very same hands that were covered I'm the blood of countless innocent lives, bandaged your arms with such gentle concentration.

"Thank you, Knives." You nuzzled into his neck, eyes closed.

Knives simply hummed, a kiss placed into your temple that had you instantly opening your eyes, mouth agape with a smile. He immediately regretted it.

"You kissed me!"

"I always do."

"Only after I kiss you first! You did it without me initiating!"

"Keep bringing it up and I'll never kiss you again."

"You wouldn't survive that long, you need my kisses to live on. Otherwise you'll shrivel away to nothingness." Your soft giggles had Knives pouting form relaxing, eyes examining the personality that chipped away at his protective walls. Knives would have to protect you now, more so than previously.

And he'd do just that, holding your hurting soul close while he worked hard to keep you safe.

"I suppose I don't despise your kisses that much."

[call-me-a-simp]

Heal My Wounds

Rhea's Friends (Part 7)

Rhea Ripley x Reader

Tw: physical and sexual abuse, toxic relationship, selfharm, eating disorder

Summary: You are in a toxic relationship with an abusive man but manage to run away. A tall, black haired woman picks you up from the streets just in time so your ex doesn't get you. But who is she and why does she seem so familiar to you? As you get to know each other you start to notice weird feelings you never had before whenever she's around.

Rhea opens the door to let in the three boys. The shortest one hugs Rhea, he didn't even notice you yet.

"Who is this?" a very tall and muscular man asks. He scares you a bit. Rhea smiles and puts an arms around you.

"Do you wanna introduce yourself or should I do it for you?" she whispers. "You please" you answer. You're scared she might tell them about what happened but you also didn't dare to speak for yourself just yet.

"So, this is y/n, she's staying at mine for some time so get used to it." Demi tells the boys.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Dominic but you can call me Dom like everyone else." the short one who hugged Rhea says.

"I'm Damian" says the tall one and reaches out to shake your hand. You shyly return the gesture.

"And I'm Finn" the third one who hasn't spoken yet says. You just nod and try to smile at them.

"Alright" Rhea says and grabs your hand. You follow her into the living room, they boys right behind you.

They sit down on the couch and Dominic turns on the TV. "Come here y/n" Demi says. Only now do you realize that you're the only one still standing.

You sit down next to her at the end of the couch. She puts her arm around you and leans back. "So what's the plan for today?" Rhea asks.

"What about we play some games and order pizza later. We could also watch a movie then" Finn says.

"Or we could make a horror movie marathon" Dom says enthusiastically. "No way, as much as I'd love to but y/n here can't stand horror." Rhea quickly throws in.

"What about we watch some stupid movies to laugh about" Damian suggests. "Oh yes, do you wanna watch barbie?" Demi says and looks at you. You shrug "fine by me"

"OK yeah, let's do it" Dom says and scrolls through a list of movies to find what they're looking for. "I'll order pizza, what do you guys want?" Finn says.

Everyone orders except for you. "What do you want y/n?" Damian says. "Nothing thanks" you reply shyly.

"y/n can we talk for a sec?" Rhea says and stands up. You're confused but follow her into the kitchen.

Demi leans against a counter and looks at you. "What is it that you wanna talk about?" "Are you hungry?" she asks.

You give her a confused look. "No why you asking?" you lie. "Because it's almost 2pm and you haven't eaten anything today except the little breakfast we had at around 9."

You sigh "I'm just not comfortable with eating in front of other men" Rhea gives you a sad smile "okay, but if you change your mind you can always take some of my pizza ok?" "thank you" you smile.

You return to the living room and join the boys who waited with the start of the film until you were back.

It was actually more fun than you originally thought. You were even comfortable enough to laugh out loud, even if it wasn't often, and steal one of Rhea's pizza slices.

It was around 10pm when Demi practically threw the boys out because they just wouldn't leave. "Byee" you both said before Rhea closed the door behind them.

"That wasn't as bad as I thought, they're pretty cool" you say and she grins at you. "Yea, I liked it too but I'm pretty tired now." Demi yawns.

You hesitate before asking "can you sleep with me in the bed again?" Rhea smirks, "sure" then grabs your hand and leads you to the bedroom.

You both get ready for bed and lay down. "Demi?" you whisper. "hm" she hums. "I know you're tired and everything but can we cuddle? I feel a bit lonely right now."

"Of course, come here love" she responds and stretches out her arm so you can snuggle up to her.

I like the feeling I get when we touch. You think. Damn I never felt this way with him, like, actually cared for and protected and comfortable and all that.

"Good night" Rhea whispers. You feel her lips slightly brushing the top of your head.

I wonder what it would be like to kiss her. "Good night Demi, thank you for everything!" "You're welcome" she says and pecks you on your head.

Heat rushes through your body. Something you never felt before. With your ex you always wished for things to be over as soon as possible, with Rhea you wanted them to never end.

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

Part sevennnn and many more planned ;)

Wishes, suggestions etc in the comments.

Taglist: @thatonepansexual2000

[superdumbfan]

Two: mention of harming ones self (not major tho I'm fine)

So went to my therapist. Well more like medicine provider but I forgot the technical term for that. And I was talking about sleep meds cuz I've had to be on sleep meds and melatonin because I have really bad sensory issues. Like meltdown and sometimes even hurting myself kind of bad. So I talked to my therapist this time and she said that I might have OCD, but I'm kind of confused cuz I also had doctors labeled me with ADHD and autism. I honestly don't know what the problem is but I just got on OCD medicine see if that helps. I would love to get a psych eval, but the closest center that does a psychopath is two cities away. It'd be an 8-hour drive going there and back and it's a major city so hotel cost and stuff like that would probably bankrupt me. My mom says that she's going to try and take me as soon as possible but we just got a new car and she's afraid that I might break down during the trip. I honestly don't know what to do I love to have some kind of diagnosis so I know what to do. I want to be able to just live like a neurotypical person. I want to be able to do things like sit on my bed or wear leggings without literally wanting to rip off my skin. I've talked to my brother about this and he said that he could believe if I was autistic because of how I acted as a kid. Again I honestly don't know what I am I just want to know I want to find it out so I can fix it as soon as possible. Cuz not only is it exhausting but it is breaking me I need help bad. Oh the joy of being poor in a capitalist society so I can't fix my own fucking problems.

[koterkot]

explain the entirety of pluto lore in one comprehensive tumblr post. GO!!!!!!

ok so first of all fuck you Second of all- Pluto is a gieeg oc of mine, here's a old reference sheet i made for them in ms paint because that is somehow my main art program:

(tw: comedical usage of the f slur. i'm sorry gay people.)

[* Due to the gieeg mothership that Pluto has lived in for most of his life having like, weird time dilating shit, a gieeg year is roughly 5 human years. (HIS ASS IS 80 YEARS OLD DURING MOTHER 1!!!! HI GRANDPA!!!!!) ? I just picked random numbers and that's now his birthday in the gieeg calendar that has like 50 days and 50 months lma-]

SSOOO COUGH COUGH IGNORE THE SHITTY ART I SWEAR THAT I HAVE IMPROVED ANYWHOS- Pluto's story is simple, he was born in the mothership with two disorders, being them SPD (Selfharming Psionic Disorder) and OPD (Overwhelming Psionic Disorder) together with the bonus addition of The Tism. Raised in the Mothership of their species, their mother Eris is one of Giegue's strongest troops, and is mostly absent from Pluto's life as she is too busy beating the shit out of alien scum on other planets that Giegue plans to conquer.

[credits to thealmightyven for cooking this shit up, this was her first drawing and ofc the first thing she does is ask pluto if he's a queer] COUGH COUGH WHEEZE AAND THEN THERE'S CERES!!! HIS DAD!!!

(AALSO OLD ART AND STUPID SKETCH BLEUGH) he works for marketing giegue as like this super cool warlord when in reality he's just a traumatized teenager that got weaponized because he's really fucking strong and stuff OH!! OHH!!! SPEAKING OF GIEGUE!!! wait no nevermind we need to touch on pluto's childhood first uhhh uhhh Pluto basically got bullied a LOT as a kid. Last one to get picked for everything, always made fun of due to their lack of tail and inability to use PSI without physically and mentally straining themselves. Sooo... What did Pluto do??? Shut himself away from the outside world, watch their dad's massive collection of holotapes full of movies and tv shows and cartoons and shit

[ANOTHER OLD ASS DOODLE RRAGGGH!!!!] AND LIKE!! THEY LIVED BY THEMSELVES AND THEIR DAD FOR A VERY LONG TIME!!! Until... BBOOM!!! A good while after Pluto's 16th birthday, and 2 days after their last check up on their psionitrist, (doctor specialized in psionics and shit) THE FEDS PULL UP AT CERES' DOOR!!! AND THEY CALL FOR!!! PLUTO!!!

ok so cutting a long story short pluto has like a FUCK ton of psi, and like, the same level as giegue's, soo he basically is supposed to get drafted into their army but unfortunately he has SPD in which has no distinct treatment, sooo their best solution to fix up pluto was to SEND HIM TO THE BIG BOSS!!! GIGAGAS!!!

resuming a entire fanfic's worth of gay tension they eventually come to one conclusion

AAND NOW PLUTO HAS HIS FIRST FRIEND!! EVER!!! using the insane confidence boost of being the Commander of All Gieegkind's best friend (secretly boyfriend), Pluto goes from "loser dork town mayor" to "COOLEST GUY IN TOWN!!! YEAH!!!"

this helps pluto form a few friendships, and by a few i mean like 6 people (probably more than you have anon. HAHA!!) this relationship with giegue though, lasts for only 2 years before it is permanently ruined by giegue's first invasion onto earth. and his loss. i'll touch more on that later on my SECOND POST!!! (YES!!! THERE WILL BE PLURAL POSTS!!) that'll cover what happens to pluto after the events of mother 1 and during mother 2 and stuff BUH BYE!!

[unprofessionalprofessionalbinger]

Put it down Spencer Reid x fmc

Big shout out to everyone that liked my first little writing. Y'all give me motivation <333 summary: Spencer suffers silently, thinking nobody notices. He's wrong. Spoilers for criminal minds season 2 episode 12

tw: cursing, drug abuse, addiction, eating disorder(?), short little hint at selfharm

"Don't you think Spencer has been acting weird lately?" I ask Morgan concerned. I let it slide the first three weeks. It isn't something small to get kidnapped by some crazy guy with three personalities. It wouldn't be unusual for Spencer to act weird or close himself off a little. But he's done such a 180. The only thing that stayed is his awkwardness. Sweet Spencer Reid sassed at me multiple times the last weeks. He even insulted me (I made a joking jab at him and he told me I'm wasting the precious oxygen a tree is tiredlessly producing)

His hands are shaky. He fumbles more. He rants less. He's gone colder and quieter. He scratches his arms through his sleeves and seems tired and unfocused. He's also gotten paler. And thinner? "He won't talk to anyone, it worries me, what if he needs help but can't bring himself to ask and then one day it'll be too late and-" Derek quickly interrupts my ramble before I go any further down the rabbit hole.

"Hey, pretty girl, relax. I'm sure he'll be fine. He just needs some time to really get back, y'know? Hankel did quite the number on him, you saw how Reid's foot looked." His voice is soothing. He always has that soothing tone. But it doesnt work. My mind easily picks words and the way they sounded apart and leaves only the cold, harsh truth behind.

"Exactly what I mean! He was digging his own grave and then had to shoot a man he pitied! That's horrifying! I don't expect him to be fine, but I sure as shit expect him to talk to one of us. Better, all of us. Not at once. But it's important. Who does he trust? JJ. He trusts JJ. I should go ask her if she knows anything." My tone is determined as if nothing could bring me from that path.

"Go ask if JJ knows what?" Prentiss. Prentiss joined not long ago. She's trying hard to fit in, but Gideon isn't exactly easy on her. Not that I can't relate. Looks like the only women he can stand are JJ, Greenaway and Garcia. Well, not that bad. But he's honestly a little... how can I say it? Different.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just about Reid. Do you know how he's doing?" I don't expect her to know. But I'm not shutting her out. She seems nice. At first I feared she was a nepo baby, but she definitely proves herself well. She had gotten sass from Spencer too. Honestly, for the lack of a better word, I'd say he's acting bratty. But I strongly doubt he enjoys whatever is happening.

"Well... last time I asked him what's going on with him, he told me quite clearly that I have no idea what I'm talking about, so I guess I'm not exactly the right person to ask, I'm sorry. I don't actually know him that well anyway." She seems genuinely sorry that she cannot help the issue. "It's alright, Em. I'm sure we'll get him back somehow." I reply with a gentle smile.

Turns out JJ doesn't know anything either. But I know. Not because he told me, but because it's obvious. Also, I'm pretty sure the others know too. Either they're in denial or just decided to ignore Spencer's obvious drug addiction and let him fight it himself or rott alone in his apartment. Great. So much for 'we are a family'. First Elle pulls the fucking card of just shooting the rapist. Then she has to leave? I mean, I'd get it if there was evidence, we couldn't have let that slide, legally speaking, but IA said it was legit. Self-defense. She got shot in her own home, she was traumatized and not ready to come back. Then she got pushed. Further and further. Instead of helping, the team just pushed her away. I can't let that happen again. Not to Spencer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have been knocking on this damned door for ages now. I knock again. Maybe knocking is the wrong word. It had evolved into more of a banging. An angry woman opens the door a couple feet over and glares at me. I throw her an apologetic look and tell her I'll stop.

Just as I turn away, a muffled thump reaches me from the other side of the wood. My mind immediately spins. What if he's hurt? I knock one last time and call out "Reid?!" He doesnt answer. Without thinking, my hair is let down, pin in my hand. Then the pin is in the lock, next thing, the door is open. I step inside, gently close the door again, dump my bag and scan the room. My eyes quickly find the hunched over figure on the floor of the dimly lit room.

After closer looking, I notice the small bottle of medicine next to his thigh and the syringe tightly grasped in his hand. "Fucking hell, Reid put that down right now." He lazily tilts his head in my direction and squints weirdly at me. Dipshit is already higher than his IQ. He slurs a 'no' in my direction. "Don't make me hurt you." I say, half jokingly. With a few quick steps, I reach him. My fingers wrap frimly around his hand. His knuckles are white from how tightly he holds that damned thing. But that needle will not breach his skin again.

"Spencer. Please. Put it down." I say gently. It seems like he's high enough to not have that much willpower in him. He lets go and slumps back against the wall. I carefully put the drugs in my bag. He needs rehab. But that will cost him his job. He can't lose his job. It'd end him. The only way is to help him quit without getting forced by someone else's hand. I definitely need to have an insightful conversation with sober Reid.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow is when our few little paid vacation days start. Ten days without a case. It'd be a great time to start withdrawal. I leave a container with pasta, chicken and creamy sauce in his kitchen, put a post-it on it saying 'Call me when you're sober ~Romanov' and take his dilaudid with me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I should've expected that I wouldn't be able to sleep in until lunchtime. But hey, can't blame a girl for trying. My phone rings at nine and I pick up with a sleepy voice, not looking at the caller ID. "Are you seriously still asleep? Did breaking into my apartment and stealing from me make you that tired?!" Spencer's sassy voice reaches me through the phone. He sounds upset. I get it. I pinch my nose and sigh.

"No, actually, I'm just tired of getting shut out." I reply in the same tone. The line goes quiet for a while. "What do you want?" his voice is suddenly small and quiet, it breaks my heart. "I just want to talk, Goldie. Need some company the next couple days? I swear I'm great company." My voice is soft. An underlying plea swings in my words. "Depends. You got some more of that pasta? Haven't thrown up in two hours. And it's really good." I can't quite put what about his tone it is, but it makes my heart melt and I can't help my next words. "I could teach you. We could do a little cooking lesson. Promise I'll wash my hands really, really good." I add the last part teasingly, wanting to bring a little more lightness. "This is not a question, by the way, it's now officially an order. My place, four o' clock. I'll send you the address. Don't be late. You have to bring nothing but yourself in one piece. Don't think I didn't see that knife yesterday. You can't hide anything from me, Goldie." I hang up without letting him answer. I know Spencer Reid well enough. He'll show. He can't argue with me if I hang up, and if he doesn't show, he will 100% feel bad about it.

Morally problematic? Maybe. But it's for a good cause.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alrightyyyy, this is it for tonight. Might be rushed. Isn't proofread. I again didn't write enough Spencer aghhhhh.

But tomorrow. I promise. I'll feed fluff. Cooking together and a little angsty talk. Cuddles, lot of trust aaaand more fluff!

Again, thanks for the support, every last little thing means the world to me. It is an honor to know people actually read my shit (even if it's only for Spencer)

Feel free to leave any kind of critisism <333

[narcissisticpdcultureis]

tw // mentions of suicide & selfharm

npd culture is being so frustrated of being unable to speak about your issues and thoughts because you lack close connections with people. because if i do speak about it with either my bestie or partner i'll end up with panic attacks, self harm, hate and might as well suicide attempt from them. which WILL BE fair but. just. fuck you and fuck your emotions and shit BE FUCKING NORMAL FOR ONCE I LITERALLY CANNOT ANYMORE

.

[rina-likes-plants]

TW: Selfharm

Just one cut. Only one tiny simple cut. That's how it starts, one cut.

It starts with one at a time, "I can always just stop". Then it's more and more, you stop wearing short sleeved tops. Your whole arm is covered in cuts and blood, dried and fresh.

Your arm is one giant scar and suddenly you can't stop, suddenly you're addicted. You always wear long shirts, hoodies or pullovers. You tell the others it's just because you're cold.

You get cold easily. They don't even notice that you flinch when anyone touches your arm. They don't know, they can't.

You pray that noone will ever know, how disappointing that would be to everyone. But at the same time you need someone to find out, intervene. You realize that it is wrong and harmful, an addition yet you also can't seem to stop. You can't stop, you keep going. Hoping for someone, anyone to take notice and do something.

You're clean. You've been for some...months, maybe a year or two. You don't exactly remember. No one was there to celebrate milestones, so you forgot. They couldn't have been there, you never told them.

You're clean, but ever time you feel so lost like you're stuck in a void...you want to cut again. You can't help it, it's the addiction speaking. You will never be able to live like "normal" people.

For a while you hide your arm but as time goes by the scars fade. At first you're mortified, they shouldn't fade that would mean that they were never deep enough to be real. But they were real, you bled and your arm is now covered in healed cuts, scars.

By now you only look at your arm sometimes. Noone else can see them, the scars but you. You can still see the distinct lines of where you cut.

You tell yourself "just one cut". One cut couldn't hurt, right? But instead of giving in you start to do other things. You draw, sometimes crochet or write. No more cuts, no more.