Tw Sh - Tumblr Posts

not to b all ‘woe is me’ but its so hard to stay clean, i feel like a fuckin failure bc i can’t keep my hands off my blade. and ik i’m facilitating the issue bc i keep it accessible to me, but fuck it’s just so frustrating

tw // sh

mithrun :(

i just think. we should talk about this more??

Red Words

the night begins after the play

the love of my life only inches away

but then i look down and it all fades to grey

too small for others to see

a small reminder just for me

that i am only meant to bleed

A taste of iron and salt and lead

the viscous words lettered in red

i look for meaning in as i bled

new words form as i carve across

new meanings shimmer through like gloss

but if i told her, she’d feel such loss

i know i should not but why pretend

i know if i stopped i’d just start again

so i’ll just keep carving till i reach the end

skin to flesh, meat to bone

against myself this blade i hone

that warmest pain may be my own

my flesh and bone already torn

my heart has been forever worn

now all i seem to feel is forlorn

i look away, theres nothing to see

show skin to keep suspicions from me

this must be how it’s meant to be

Tw: sh mentioned

removed some bl4des from a disposable r4zor. They were bendy as shit really fucking useless. I want to get some proper blades soon. Are minors allowed to buy r4zorbl4des? Like the proper ones? And where from? Or do I have have to live with pencil sharpeners. Please someone i need answers

Tw: sh

uggghhhh I’m so tired of light styros. Why am I so fucking weak. I just want deep-medium styros. Enough to feel valid but not enough to give me a scare. But at the same time I wanna get better. Also I don’t want stitches.

plus I’m running out of space. Ughh fuvk guess imma have to move back to my stomach temporarily.

update: haha nvm imma just make space

tw: sh

oh shit that was deeper than expected. Well at least I’m getting further than baby styros now. I think I kinda feel more valid? ( which is stupid because all sh no matter how “bad” it is is valid)

Although I was in the school bathroom when I did it and in a stall which I quickly discovered had no toilet paper left in it. There was a lot of blood. My leg hurts

my god twitter is fvcking brutal. Also-

Tw: sh

I wanna do wrists/arms so bad but I shouldn’t bc I want to get clean. Also arms are a nightmare to hide. The scars on my arms are still not fully healed but they are nearly there so that’s good. Been clean since the 19.9.24. Ik it’s not long but still. I’m so scared of my mum finding out. I don’t want her to feel bad abt it-she had nothing to do with it my brain is just a dumbass. It feels like it’s inevitable she’ll find out. I can’t wait to be an adult so I can more easily make excuses to get out of things that might show my scars/cvts.

I’m so dam fat as well. Why can’t I be skinny, where is the willpower I used to have?? I used to be able to starve for ages and not binge but now it feels like all I ever do is binge and cvt. i just don’t know. Why is everything so fvcking hopeless. I’m done with this shit. agggg I wanna sh so badly. I fvcking hate urges. STUPID URGES LEAVE ME ALONE! I WILL NOT REL@PSE!

Also I’m running out of eyelashes bc I keep pulling them out.

I wanna audition for lady Macbeth at my school drama club, ironically she kills herself by slitting her wrists so I now have to keep my wrists clean to be able to safely have my wrists showing. At least I’ll be able to put on a convincing show. Ah what a conundrum.

also I don’t wanna feel dysphoric playing a she character… arrrrrgggghhhhh why is this so hard. I’ll probably just have to deal with it if do get the role.

everyone at drama is super nice and accepting though so they all call me my preferred name and pronouns so outside of the role I’ll be fine. I’d just be playing a part it’s fine I’ll be fine I want this role I will not let my dysphoria stop me from trying to get it

Holy moly guacamole! You do strade fics and requests too?! Is there anything you can't do?

Anyway am I allowed to request a strade x reader but like...weird reader not weird like him but more like they talk to themselves a lot and are 110% convinced there's bugs in their skin like he doesn't even need to cut em they're already fuckin bleeding from trying to get the bugs out...and maybe once...or twice...or thrice they tried to bite him

Just like...a creepy unnerving reader if that's cool with you-

a/n: awe thank you anon! this was such an interesting request XD i know you said he didn't have to cut them, but how else would they get the bugs out ?? :3c anyway, i had fun writing it so i hope you enjoy!

BENEATH THE SKIN

{ strade x gn! reader }

part 2: SCRATCHING THE SURFACE

word count: 1.6k

warnings/tags: self-harm, hallucinations (formication), strade fucks with you and feeds into your delusions, psychological torment, wound touching/probing, deep cutting, head stomping, skin flaying, gore.

The basement was stark, with bare concrete walls and a few utilitarian pieces of furniture, each coated in a layer of dust and grime. The silence was punctuated only by the constant dripping of water from an exposed pipe and the frantic rhythm of your breathing.

It was in this space that Strade watched you with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. You sat hunched over, incessantly scratching at your arms, your fingers stained with blood, your nails chipped and filthy. The damp air hung heavy, mingling with the musty stench of old blood and sweat.

Though invisible to others, you had grown accustomed to the sensation of phantom insects crawling beneath your skin—an incessant itch, always lurking, just waiting to erupt.

"You alright there, buddy?" Strade asked, his tone casually mocking as he leaned against the workbench. "Most folks don't start bleeding until I've had my fun," he chuckled darkly, amusement lacing his words as he watched your desperate actions.

Engrossed in your torment, you continued digging into your forearm. “Can’t help it. The bugs are crawling, moving under my skin. They're squirming, biting,” you muttered shakily to yourself, barely aware of his presence.

Your arm was a horrifying sight— lined with crimson, raw patches where you had torn at your skin. The blood mingled with sweat, creating a slick sheen that caught the dim light. Strade's interest peaked, his eyes widening with perverse fascination as he pushed off from the workbench and stepped closer.

He crouched beside you, his face invasively close as he inspected your self-inflicted wounds. "Maybe you aren't digging deep enough," he remarked, his voice low and eerily calm.

You stared at him with wild, unblinking eyes. "I'm digging deep! Deeper than you could ever imagine," you exclaimed, your voice trembling as much as your body. "They’re everywhere, inside me... Crawling, biting, burrowing... I can hear them, feel them,"

Strade's eyebrows raised, amusement and a hint of caution playing across his features. "Is that so? Well, that's quite the burden to bear," he said, his sympathy obviously feigned.

Suddenly, he grasped your arm, his fingers cold and firm. With a curious tilt of his head, he pushed his thumb into one of the deeper gouges, eliciting a sharp pain as he explored the raw flesh. His digit slipped deeper, the coarse skin of his thumb dragging against the tender, exposed tissues. His touch was probing and intrusive, causing blood to well up around his intrusion, mingling with the dirt under his nails.

"Hmm, quite the effort here," he commented, a twisted grin forming on his lips as he watched how the blood pooled and your muscles tensed under his thumb. "But not deep enough, not by a long shot," he added, his tone laced with feigned concern.

Yet, you believed him— the crawling, squirming feeling under your skin hadn’t subsided despite your efforts.

“You really think you can get them all out like this?" he pressed, pushing his thumb deeper and eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

Instinctively, you jerked your arm away, but his grip was unyielding. "Let go!" you shouted, desperation evident in your voice. Strade smirked, clearly intrigued by your reaction. In a swift, almost reflexive move, you turned your head and snapped your teeth towards his hand, aiming to bite him.

Surprised, he withdrew his hand just in time, a small rivulet of blood marking the path of his retreat. "Feisty, aren't we?" he chuckled, leaning back but keeping his eyes fixed on you. "Not many try to bite back. I like that,"

He paused, then added mockingly, "Alright, then. You don't want my help?" Strade's tone shifted, becoming mockingly sorrowful. "That’s too bad. I was really looking forward to hunting down those pesky bugs with you. But perhaps, you prefer your methods?" He gestured broadly to the bloodied gouges on your arms.

Realizing his enjoyment of the situation, you knew arguing was futile. Instead, you glared at him, the pain and relentless itching fueling your anger. Strade watched you with an unblinking gaze, his smile morphing into a more contemplative expression.

"Or maybe," he whispered almost tenderly, "you just need the right kind of tool to dig a little deeper." His eyes briefly flicked to the leather holster around his waist, then back to you; his hand moving slowly, deliberately, pulling out a sleek hunting knife. The blade caught the dim light, casting a sinister glow.

"Let’s try this," he suggested, his voice steady and menacing. He approached you again, knife in hand, your body tensed in anticipation. He positioned the blade just above one of the more savaged areas of your arm and, with your slight nod, pressed the knife's edge into your skin, deeper than your own nails could manage.

The cold steel sliced through the skin effortlessly, reaching down to where you felt the imaginary insects burrowing. You inhaled sharply, the sensation both terrifying and relieving. Your flesh separated with ease, revealing the glistening, yellowish layers of fat cushioning the deeper structures of your arm.

You watched intently, searching for the elusive invaders, but all that met your eyes was the stark reality of flesh and blood—no insects, no crawling entities, just the vivid tableau of your own anatomy laid bare.

As the knife continued its work, your panic swelled. The insects seemingly burrowed away from the incision site, evading the blade's reach. A desperate fear took hold that they were scurrying further into the untouched sanctuaries of your body, infiltrating deeper into your core.

"They're going to take over," you gasped, the pain distant yet sharp. "I can feel them... moving. If I don’t get them out, they’ll spread. They’ll control everything."

As Strade prepared to cut again, your panic surged anew. In a frantic move, you lashed out again, aiming for any part of him within reach. He catches your jaw firmly, irritation flashing across his face. “Keep it up, and I’ll rip out those teeth of yours—one by one— if that's what it takes to get you to calm down.” he threatened, tightening his grip as he forced you to face him.

"Look," he continued, "if they're everywhere like you say, I guess we'll just have to strip you down to the bone, huh? Give them nowhere to hide."

With a cruel smirk, he released your jaw, giving you a small shove. You stumbled back, crashing into the cold concrete. You tried to rise, but the room spun disorientingly around you.

Seizing the moment, Strade advanced, his expression darkened. As he neared, you saw a fleeting chance. With every ounce of strength, you lunged forward, teeth bared, aiming for his outstretched hand. He recoiled just in time, a mix of surprise and anger flashing across his face as your teeth snapped shut inches from his skin.

With a snarl, Strade stepped back, his eyes narrowing into slits. Then, without warning, he lifted his boot high and brought it down viciously on your jaw. Your head snapped to the side, smacking against the concrete with a hollow crack. As the world blurred into a maelstrom of pain and fear, the incessant itch intensified.

He straddled your hips, pinning you down under his oppressive weight as he brandished the knife again, his face contorted by grim determination. He began to peel back layers of your skin from your arm, slicing through the air with clinical precision. "Still feeling them crawl?" he taunted, his knife parting your flesh as though it were mere fabric. Blood welled up in the wake of the blade, a vivid, alarming red that flowed down to your shoulder and pooled on the cold concrete floor. The flayed skin hung loosely, fluttering slightly with each tremulous breath you took.

As Strade’s gruesome exploration continued, the basement echoed with the sound of your laboured breathing, ragged and sharp with pain. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the damp, musty air, creating a suffocating atmosphere that seemed to tighten around you.

Suddenly, Strade paused, tilting his head as though listening to an inaudible whisper. "Do you hear that?" he murmured, a sickening smile spreading across his face. His eyes darted to the shadows at the edges of the room, as if expecting them to respond. "They’re whispering to me now. They’re telling me where to cut next." His chuckle was soft, devoid of warmth as he angled the blade to scrape away the remaining fascia.

The steel traced a searing path, delving deeper. Beneath, the exposed muscle glistened wetly, its fibres quivering under the harsh glare of the overhead light. Every nerve in your body screamed in protest, yet the imaginary insects continued their relentless assault, burrowing deeper into your psyche than Strade’s knife could ever reach.

"Come on, talk to me. Are the bugs still there? Have they left? Or are they just deeper than you thought?"

His questions dripped like acid, corroding what little resolve you had left. The pain was unimaginable, yet part of you clung to the desperate hope that he might actually find and eradicate the tormenting infestation.

Through gritted teeth, you managed a whimper, "They're deeper... everywhere... I can feel them slipping away from the cuts. You have to get them all... Please..."

"Almost there," he cooed, as if soothing a child. "Just a bit deeper, and maybe we'll find them, hm?" His words slithered into your ears, venomous and vile.

With each cut, you felt your strength waning, your will dissolving into the growing pool of blood beneath you. Strade’s face, illuminated by the flickering light, appeared demonic, his features twisted into a grotesque mask of enjoyment.

The knife descended again, methodically slicing through sinew and muscle until it scraped against bone. The harsh, grating sound echoed as his blade met the stark, vulnerable white of your ulna, lying amidst the red, mangled tissues.

And yet, the crawling of elusive insects persisted; their presence haunting every exposed layer of anatomy as if fabricated from your very being.

Can I request some Strade x fem!reader with A LOT of self harm scars?

Totally understand if ur uncomfortable with the topic or just don’t wanna do it, and thank you in advance🫶🫶

a/n: i hope this is okay! thank you for the request noa :3

TRACING SCARS

{ strade x f! reader }

word count: 820

warnings/tags: self-harm, kidnapping, emotional/psychological abuse themes, light knife play.

The evening began innocuously enough; your chance encounter at a lonely pub seemed like nothing more than a curious twist of fate. Strade's charm was rustic and disarmingly inviting, drawing you in despite your better judgment. When he invited you back to his place under the guise of a few more drinks and good company, excitement chased away your usual caution.

It wasn't until you got into his car that you realized his allure was as dangerous as it was intriguing.

Now, as you lay groggily on his basement floor, the familiar scent of blood flooded your senses. He loomed over you, his silhouette outlined by the dim glow of the single overhead bulb. The air was heavy with the weight of impending dread, and the cold concrete beneath you offered little comfort.

As your consciousness began to trickle back, you became acutely aware of the ache in your limbs, the throbbing pain in your head, and the sharp tang of fear that lingered on your tongue. You tried to move, but found yourself restrained, your wrists bound behind you with rope. A chilling breeze against your skin made you suddenly realize with a jolt of horror: you were naked, every scar laid bare under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Look who's finally awake." He purred, a twisted smile dancing across his lips. You struggled against your restraints, panic bubbling up like bile in your throat.

"What do you want?" you managed to choke out, your voice raw and trembling.

"Why hide these?" Strade's voice was low and curious as he crouched beside you, his eyes tracing the myriad of scars across your skin. His hand was gentle, almost reverent, as he reached out with the tip of his knife, lightly tracing a particularly long, jagged scar that snaked its way down your thigh. The cold metal sent shivers through your body, not from pain but from the eerie intimacy of the act.

"You want to be seen, don't you? But you keep them covered like dirty little secrets." His words were tinged with a mix of fascination and mockery. You remained silent, your breath catching in your throat as the knife's point danced dangerously close to your skin.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your chilled skin. "I see you, liebling," he continued, his voice a mere whisper. "Now there is no more hiding, no more shame."

Strade's face loomed over yours, the shadows from the overhead bulb casting dark, elongated streaks across his features. "Most people, they scream and cry, beg me to let them go," he mused, tilting his head in contemplation. "But you? You've been enduring pain long before tonight," The knife paused on your skin, emphasizing his point without breaking the surface.

His knife skated across the edges of another scar, this time across your hip. "I wonder... Do they make you feel alive? Or are they attempts to feel nothing at all?"

You swallowed hard, the cold, damp air filling your lungs as you tried to steady your racing heart.

"I want to see how much more you can take when it's not by your own hand." Strade declared as he pulled back slightly, the knife still in hand. The shift in his demeanour was abrupt, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Fear surged through you, a stark, visceral terror that you hadn’t felt even at your lowest. As he stepped back to admire the fear in your eyes, it was clear that he was revelling in this new game.

He circled around you slowly, the knife still tracing air near your exposed skin, as if drawing invisible lines connecting the dots of your scars. "Let's find out if the pain you've given yourself compares to the pain I can give you," he whispered, as if proposing a challenge.

A smirk spread across his face as he stood, tucking the knife into his belt. "Stay put, sweetheart," he teased. He turned and strode toward a cluttered workbench obscured in the shadows of the room. The sound of drawers opening and tools clinking filled the air, each noise sharpening the sense of dread pooling in your stomach.

You craned your neck, watching his back as he rifled through his collection. With your heartbeat loud in your ears, the reality of your situation sank in deeper with every passing second, each thud a loud echo in the chilling silence that followed his movements.

Finally, he found what he was looking for, turning to face you with a heavy-duty drill in one hand, its bit sharp and gleaming under the light. The casual way he handled the drill, with his finger already on the trigger, and the confident thud of his boots on the floor as he walked back toward you, filled you with terror.

"Ready for some real fun?" he asked, his voice low and menacing as the drill started to whir softly in his grasp.

tw, blood, scars

"Things don't last forever, do they?"

"No, Schatz." "Let the darkness win."

She likes showing off her cuts, and it makes everyone uncomfortable (also, no, I'm not misgendering my own character lol. I said COULD be trans masc. I'm not sure if they are yet.)

body

"Lost in the darkness"

More lore!!

Tw: mentions of blood, knife, gore, psychopathic behavior..

"So, how have you two been holding up?"

The older man held his notepad, sitting at a desk. His gaze was on the man in front of him, looking quite nervous to be there, but the determination was there as well. He couldn't really get the words out, it seemed he wasn't so good with social, even though he's the one that is more capable talking with. There was a silence for a moment as the younger man got the courage to speak, his voice slightly quiet. 

"I've been holding up.. nice, I suppose."

The other man spoke, shifting in his chair. His head hand loose for a moment, before he raised it up to lock eyes with the doctor, a look of worry.. concern on his face. Liu's gaze softened even more, his blue eyes staring back at the doctor.

"But Jeff? I'm starting to worry about him more and more. He's acting so strange, I-"

Liu sighed, taking his fogged up glasses off and rubbed them with a cloth he took from his pocket, placing them back on. 

"It's like.. he's-" 

His lips quivered as he tried to take the words out of his mouth, but he was struggling in doing so. It's been weeks now, and Jeff's mental state didn't seem to get any better from it all. He wasn't eating much, he was sleeping during the day, walking around the house and neighborhood at night.. he was laughing to violent movies, seeing people die brought joy to his face. It was quite the sight, the seemingly normal acting man now turning into someone else entirely. 

"Like he's not even my brother anymore.."

His body slightly shook as he spoke once more, making the doctor sigh. The older man got up from his chair and walked up to Liu, placing a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it slightly. He stared deep into his eyes as he started to speak in a more soft tone. 

"Don't say that, Liu. Your brother is going through healing of trauma he went through from his past and accident.." He trails off for a moment, continuing to speak the second later. "..and now he's mourning the loss of a therapist he was so attached to."

The doctor spoke in a calm yet sympathetic tone, trying to comfort Liu as well as assure him of his brothers actions. This doctor was an understanding man, he knew that the things Liu's brother went through weren't normal and they scarred him both physically and mentally.  It was rare for a therapist to have such a mindset, especially in this time. He was like dr. Rein, and yet he still had his rough edges.

"Not not be offensive, but he went through a lot more in his life than you." The man frown at this, thinking of the things he was told by both Liu and Jeff during the past sessions.  "Your brother isn't well mentally, yes.. but I cannot blame the poor man for just being human. A lot of us break under pressure."

Liu sighed at this, looking away for a moment and rubbing his temples. 

"I suppose you're correct, dr. Firmin."

The doctor nodded and took away his hand from Liu's shoulder, his arm falling to his side. His face went back to being unreadable, walking back to his desk and sat down, shifting in his chair for a moment. He placed both of his elbows on the desk, making his hands as a support for his chin. It took the doctor a moment to speak again, his voice slightly more monotone.

"You've told me, over the phone, that Jeff expresses happiness in death of others?" 

Liu nodded at the doctors question, his head tilting downwards slightly as he watched himself fidget with his fingers nervously. His knuckles cracked, and he looked back up, listening to what the doctor had to ask, so he could reply.

"What kind of people? Good, bad?"

"Bad, sir. When he sees a villain die on screen.. or just get hurt, he laughs. He often says 'Evil should die, evil is not needed in this world, too many cruel people, they hurt the good.', and just pauses the movie to watch the picture of the dead villain. And a neighbor of ours passed away not so long ago, who wasn't that nice, I could even called them an asshole.. and Jeff laughed it off and said 'Good riddance'. He seems.. sadistic, almost." 

Liu shivers slightly as he explains his brothers behavior, sighing afterwards. It was quite unsettling for him to see his own brother act that way, felling joy at someone's death like that, even though the character was fictional and not real. The doctor started to take notes on his notepad, the sound of the pen writing on the paper was loud enough to hear, his handwriting messy and fast. 

"Your brother is correct at a certain level. Evil is around, there's a lot of cruelty and judgement in this world, the bad hurting the good and innocent. That's how we lost poor Emily.." 

D. Firmin explained as he continued to write things down, trailing off once he spoke the name of his deceased colleague. He thought for a moment, before he stopped writing down and looked up at Liu as he placed the pen down. He tries to find the words for him to speak, tapping the desk with his fingers, and then he spoke.

"Jeff is showing signs of being a schadenfreude." 

Liu's face consorts into one of confusion and curiosity, shifting in his chair and leaning closer to the doctors desk. 

"A wait what now?-"

"Someone who thinks that the pain and suffering of someone is well deserved.. if the person is bad and they get hurt, then a schadenfreude would think they deserved it. It does explain the fact that you think he's sadistic, since he is." 

He explained once more, his hands motioned as he leaned back in his chair. One of his hands ran through his hair, his gaze now dropping on his desk in stead of Liu, who was just staring at him in surprise and curiosity. Liu didn't move, he just listened to dr. Firmin's words, letting it sink in.

"It's.. a rare type of psychopath.. for to be in my hands, that is." He sighed "I only had one schadenfreude during my years working here, before your brother. He passed away after being publicly executed." 

"Oh-"

There was a moment of silence between the two, a clock chime breaking it. It was 9 pm now, their session now ending.  

"Anyways.. The time of the session is up. I'll see Jeff next week on Wednesday, same time, okay?"

Liu got up from the seat and nodded, taking out his hand for the doctor to shake. Dr. Firmin shook Liu's hand and smiled softly at him, but he didn't get up from his seat. The doctors smile masked the worry and concern for the both young men, for both their physical and mental health. Especially for Jeff.. who seems that he won't have much sanity left, which means another patient passing from his hands onto the psych ward. He cannot afford loosing another patient, so he's trying his very best to help. 

Liu waved the doctor goodbye, smiling slightly as he walked towards the door, opening it before he spoke.

"Please, take care. I'll see you soon, doc." 

           •○●---------------------◇----------------------●○•

"Jeff? I'm home!" 

Liu yelled from the front door, closing it behind him. He walked around, the silence creeping him out as he looked for his brother. The mans blue eyes darted around, his footsteps making the floor boards creek slightly. The bathroom door was closed, but the light was on, which meant his brother might be inside. As he got closer to the bathroom door, he started to hear quiet sobs and something that sounds like.. laughing? The laugh was muffled from the sobs, which only made it more sinister. Liu's gaze softened as he heard the crying. his face consorted to a look of worry.

"Jeff?"

He spoke softly as he stood in front of the door, placing his hand on the handle. He got no answer, only the quiet sobs and laughs continuing to come out of the bathroom. Liu opened the door, his eyes widening in pure horror. 

"Oh my god!"

He took a step back, his body starting to tremble. 

Jeff had a bloody knife in his hand, his cheeks now having big cuts on them, almost  ear to ear. Tears were running down Jeff's, now wounded, face as he laughed again. Blood was everywhere, from his clothes, to the knife, to the sink.. the floor. It was everywhere. The wounded man looked at his brother and laughed some more, before he took a step toward him, his breath heavy yet shaky. A few tears started to run down Liu's cheeks as he saw this, still in shock as his brother got close to him. 

"I.. i...did it.. Liu.." 

Jeff spoke, his voice shaky and quiet. He now stood in front of him, his green eyes locked with Liu's blue ones. He just stared for a moment, staring at him in silence as he tried to speak once more, the blood still dripping down from the wounds.

"I avenged.. our poor.. dear.. Emily."

"The evil is.. dead."

I get how you feel. It's kinda scary having to wonder if someone's okay or not, and it can be pretty triggering for some people to have to hear about those things.

However, the main reason (as far as I am aware) why suicidal people or those with self harm struggles interact with NSO content is because NSO contains themes of self harm and other mental health struggles, and it can be relatable for people with similar struggles or find the game comforting.

W can assure you that most of us are okay, and if you are concerned about our wellbeing's, feel free to ask us about it.

Again, we apologize for the concern. /gen

PS, please don't report our accounts. We understand the concern, but there are a few reasons why we need to have our accounts.

A lot of us use our blogs as a coping mechanism since a lot of us don't have other coping mechanisms, and sadly there is a lot of stigma surrounding mental health which can make it difficult to find healthier coping mechanisms (it's not easy being mentally ill, i'll tell you that.).

In addition, some of our accounts (including mine for example) are reviewed by or recognized by professionals as a way to get our emotions out of our system (kind of like a diary), so if our account gets terminated, we lose that coping mechanism.

I don't mean to be rude when I say this btw, but just letting you know.

I might stop posting NSO content. My last few posts have been reblogged by multiple accounts that are centred on self harm and suicidal thoughts. I’ve had to report a few people because I legitimately thought they were in danger.

TW FOR SH (kinda? I guess?? Idk bro)

Why do I bite myself as a stim

Like wtf is this shit

Like?? Brain why??? How does this help???

keeping me safe

open for better quality

likes and reblogs appreciated!

tw s/h

please let me know how to do aftercare for deep cuts (styro and beans) i already have too many cuts that got infected

"PSYCHOSIS" IS MY TRUE MIND

Positive and Negative is a limited mindset

Fuck sex

Fuck love