yo so this is so random but can you write headcanons abt like how aizawa (as a teacher ofc) would react to seeing like scars on a student (reader g/n for the sake of hcs) arms and maybe shoulder-
like just- white and pink lines he caught a glimpse of and how he'd react 💀
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Paring: Teacher!Aizawa x cutting!y/n (PLATONIC STUDENT TEACHER RELATIONSHIP ONLY)
Summary: The moon eventually goes down, and so do you, one in a while it'll appear red and it matches you, someone will notice, someone will care.
Warnings: mentions a lot of blood, gn!reader, reader is a teen (16ish), reader cutting, graphic language? (hell, fuck), THIS IS A PLATONIC STORY, reader is suicidal-ish,
Just Another Problem Child
(A/n) The fic part was longer than I expected, so uhh, good luck with reading it. I hope you like it! Make sure to check out my other mha fics (especially the dabi one), reblogs, and likes are cherished
●. You were well, you the same person who everyone had the same view on, which was that they knew barely anything about you. It didn't matter if you were as cheerful as Mirio or quieter than Tamaki.
●. No one ever saw you in the locker rooms. Hell, you were already changed by the time, Mister. Aizawa called for training. Nobody thought anything different about it. Why would anyone think about you?
●. Now, of course, your classmates might be blind but aizawa is certainly not, I mean, at first, he thought it was just from your quirk or from training. Such a fool he was.
●. Buy now as the villain attacks grew more in size and damage, and with Principle Nezu's great idea to send 16 year olds to battles. The injuries grew more frequently, especially for you, Bakugo (his ego), and Deku.
●. Guess who got hurt. You. Again. For the 5th time. This week.
●. So this time, when it was you, Aizawa had to, unfortunately, escort you to recovery girl. Which was not a pretty sight.
●. Aizawa got so concerned, did he show it. No, but that doesn't matter right now. What even happened? So when your dumbass was sent on a mission with a few other kids from class 1-B were on a mission with aizawa.
●. But alas, even the moon eventually goes down. So here Aizawa is, dragging you to the recovery room where recovery girl is standing there with her hands and her hips.
●. So yeah, you were screwed, Aizawa out of all teachers saw this. Maybe it it were All-Might or midnight you could get by with lying. Guess you got to see how this goes.
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Well, well, just look at yourself. I mean, just three days ago, you were holding a small blade to your shoulder. Watching as the blade ticked off slices of skin and bits of blood. Your eyes were flickering to where flecks of blood landed. Your arms. Oh, your arms, how pretty would they look with pink scars intertwining within each other? But that was just three days before you, Mirio, and Tokoyami left with aizawa for a mission.
"Why is he so damn heavy" one of the medics heaved while attempting to lift Mirio up. No like seriously, what milk is he drinking? All-Might%.
"Yeah, well, at least yours isn't quoting. My Cemical Romance" The other one grunted, pulling Tokoyami's poetic ass onto the stretcher.
It was a difficult one, Mirio and Tokoyami had already been sent to recovery, girl, so had you. Now, you were just resting on the beds, waiting for your wounds to heal. My god, how much homework would you have to make up? Anyway, you could think of those when you woke up, but here stood Aizawa. His eyes skimmed over your sleeping face, but something looked wrong...???
"What has Y/n gotten their selfs into now?"
His eyes dropped just low enough to see the pink lines on your shoulder blade. Oh, how it almost blended in with your skin. Too bad for you now, Aizawa knows one more thing about you. The most important thing about you. Hell, your name is useless compared to this.
"Y....y/n..??"
Next week, after 3rd period Aizawa’s voice called out, breaking through whatever thoughts you were daydreaming about. As a piece of chalk tapped your desk with the soft Tick you shook your head.
"I don't want to push, but those lines on your shoulder. They're not from training, are they?"
Your eyes widened, damn you are cooked, theirs no way you can lie about this now. Well, at least go through your opinions. Come on now! There's "I got attacked by a bird" or the classic "A cat scratched me while on my way home," or maybe you could say, "A bush caught my shoulder." No, you're cooked. Oh well.
"N..no," you mumbled, voice soft and low at the same time. You kept those eyes lowered. There's no damn way you are about to look THE Eraserhead in the eyes right now.
"Hn, I thought so," he clicked his tongue at the last syllable, taking a few moments before speaking.
"You can y'know always talk to me"
How the hell did he say that? So kindly, too. I mean, you were just another problem child among the many others.
"O.. okay?"
It won't matter if you're lying or not. He can and will raid your dorm to remove all and any blades. Yes, even the kid scissors on your desk, yes, even any sharp enough object. He dose not give a single fuck if its apart of your hero costume.
Guys please help me there's this toxic girl I met 4 weeks ago in my class, she's a flight risk and a very bad person she threatened me her friends threaten me because on march the 22th she was being really mean to my best friend of 5 years and me while I was on call with her so I ended our friendship, she said she is going to k1ll herself on the same day at 9:33 am. Now she just reblogged, I am scared please guys spread awareness of her and let this blow up please.
one of the worst parts of self harm and suicidal ideation is when you’re sitting next to someone you love so much and all you can think about is how badly you want things to end
Reflito, especialmente depois de acordar seis vezes em uma única noite.
É triste ter que aguentar uma dor, especialmente quando você não pode fazer nada em relação a isso, porque essa situação é uma mistura de defeitos genéticos com erros do passado.
Estar acostumada a sentir dor todos os dias e não poder me medicar não significa que eu não sinta nada. Eu só estou um pouco acostumada.
Hoje, quase não me aguentei em pé. Foi dor de cabeça, essa cólica insuportável... As inflamações no útero e nas trompas pioram muito no período menstrual. Isso fez minha coluna doer, minhas pernas pareciam pesar uma tonelada e meus pés formigavam. Eu quase não conseguia tirá-los do chão.
E, apesar disso tudo, de toda essa dor, as duas vezes em que quis chorar, e a vez em que chorei, não foram diretamente por ela. Foi por um toque não solicitado nas costas. Era um carinho, algum tipo de conforto, mas, em meio a toda aquela dor, para mim, esse carinho foi semelhante a agulhadas. Isso quase me fez chorar.
Outra coisa é que, quando você está sentindo muita dor, sua mente começa a ir um pouco longe... e pensamentos como “por que eu insisto em viver?” aparecem.
Todas as vezes que isso acontece, penso que dias melhores virão, que vai passar, e que um dia vou superar isso. Mas aí, eu durmo... e no outro dia, isso se mostra uma péssima ideia.
A vida está semelhante a assistir a um filme sem pagar pela versão Premium: com um ou dois anúncios no meio. O filme é o sofrimento da vida, e os anúncios são os pequenos momentos de felicidade pelo caminho.
A felicidade, para mim, é assim, surge momentaneamente como um oásis no deserto para um viajante perdido nessa imensidão do nada... só para, logo em seguida, perceber que aquilo não passou de uma ilusão criada para lhe dar esperanças.
E é justamente a esperança de dias melhores que me traz esse sofrimento eterno.
Escrevo isso chorando, depois de acordar pela sexta vez. Não estou conseguindo dormir em paz com essa dor. Mas o motivo do choro foi ter batido o dedo enquanto voltava para a cama, depois de acender a luz, porque a escuridão me sufocava com os “e se” na minha cabeça.
Em meio à dor que já estava sentindo, com o nariz entupido e a cabeça explodindo de tanta pressão causada por esse choro e sofrimento, reflito novamente: qualquer coisa me afunda... porque não fui ensinada a nadar.
