overlyprotectiveheadcounselor

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

"I guess? I'm really trying not to be overbearing, I just couldn't stand to let something happen to her and not be there to help. But she's always movin' around. She doesn't like staying in one place for too long."

Colds sucked. There was no denying that. Turns out, after falling into the lake in the middle of the winter, being a Hunter of Artemis couldn't protect her from catching one. She didn't want to worry Lady Artemis, but Marilene was following her around, fussing over how she should have been more careful. Not that she was being mean about it. She just couldn't stand to see her little sister sick.

"Please, just take some medicine! It will make you feel better, I promise."

@sophia-hunter-of-artemis @overlyprotectiveheadcounselor

Comet was no better. As soon as he heard, he nagged on her to rest and have some orange juice.

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

"I mean, she still comes over sometimes, so she can't hate it there, can she? I really hope she doesn't..."

Colds sucked. There was no denying that. Turns out, after falling into the lake in the middle of the winter, being a Hunter of Artemis couldn't protect her from catching one. She didn't want to worry Lady Artemis, but Marilene was following her around, fussing over how she should have been more careful. Not that she was being mean about it. She just couldn't stand to see her little sister sick.

"Please, just take some medicine! It will make you feel better, I promise."

@sophia-hunter-of-artemis @overlyprotectiveheadcounselor

Comet was no better. As soon as he heard, he nagged on her to rest and have some orange juice.

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

"She usually goes to the Artemis cabin, but a little time over with Kiara wouldn't hurt..."

Colds sucked. There was no denying that. Turns out, after falling into the lake in the middle of the winter, being a Hunter of Artemis couldn't protect her from catching one. She didn't want to worry Lady Artemis, but Marilene was following her around, fussing over how she should have been more careful. Not that she was being mean about it. She just couldn't stand to see her little sister sick.

"Please, just take some medicine! It will make you feel better, I promise."

@sophia-hunter-of-artemis @overlyprotectiveheadcounselor

Comet was no better. As soon as he heard, he nagged on her to rest and have some orange juice.

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

"Bye..."

Open Starter

(TW: Self harm, self hatred, body issues, blood)

Anyone can interact (as long as you are comfortable and can be mature abt subject matter)

°•~Real Man~•°

this is another warning because writing is a very helpful coping skill for me, but it can be triggering to interact with. If you are uncomfortable, please do not interact! Keep yourself safe, you know your boundaries.

The sun had barely gone down, but the itch had already come back. The moist late spring to early summer air had mad mosquitos flock to Argo's room- biting up his legs. And he just.. couldn't stop itching. It got so bad that he just.. couldn't stop. His calves are raw and scratched.. and they still itch.

And, of course, rolling up his pants to scratch the itch had shown his scars. The.. older ones that were on his calves. White and faded, but still glaringly obvious. It was like they were teasing Argo. You wanted people to notice- attention whore.

He was 13 when it had all started- right after the first Lethe fiasco. People had.. stopped talking to him- and was it so bad he wanted people to make sure he was okay? It wasn't like this was a new urge- Luna had been trying to hurt herself since she was 8, as she had helpfully informed Argo of when she was part or his consciousness.. but, at 13, he learned how to get razors.

Argo had tried to count his scars on multiple occasions. The furthest he ever got was 100, but there was definitely more. And now, there would definitely be more.

Argo sits on his bed, a small pill bottle with a snake sticker covering his information sitting next to him- along with a bloodstained rag.

He rolls up his pants further- revealing his thigh. Fuck- his stupid fat ass thighs. He just wants to be skinny- to look like a normal guy.

The first slash, not nearly deep enough. He's gone soft.

Another, deeper- but still not as harsh as he could.

Another.

Another.

another.

Argo hesitantly puts the razor back, into the pill bottle where it belongs.. and under his bed. He bandages his cuts, but he knows the silly bandaids he likes won't stick- there's too much bleeding for them to stick. But he does so anyways, rolling his pants back down.

He had made sure the room was empty- he was sure. but.. maybe he was wrong. He looks at you, covers the pill bottle and rag with a blanket. "How long have you been there-"

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss @judas-of-eris @onlymythologypersonincamp @echos-from-the-past

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

"...okay. I'm sorry." She put a water bottle on his bed with some spare band aids, avoiding his gaze. "Just know that you're welcome in my cabin whenever you like, okay?" She started walking out.

Open Starter

(TW: Self harm, self hatred, body issues, blood)

Anyone can interact (as long as you are comfortable and can be mature abt subject matter)

°•~Real Man~•°

this is another warning because writing is a very helpful coping skill for me, but it can be triggering to interact with. If you are uncomfortable, please do not interact! Keep yourself safe, you know your boundaries.

The sun had barely gone down, but the itch had already come back. The moist late spring to early summer air had mad mosquitos flock to Argo's room- biting up his legs. And he just.. couldn't stop itching. It got so bad that he just.. couldn't stop. His calves are raw and scratched.. and they still itch.

And, of course, rolling up his pants to scratch the itch had shown his scars. The.. older ones that were on his calves. White and faded, but still glaringly obvious. It was like they were teasing Argo. You wanted people to notice- attention whore.

He was 13 when it had all started- right after the first Lethe fiasco. People had.. stopped talking to him- and was it so bad he wanted people to make sure he was okay? It wasn't like this was a new urge- Luna had been trying to hurt herself since she was 8, as she had helpfully informed Argo of when she was part or his consciousness.. but, at 13, he learned how to get razors.

Argo had tried to count his scars on multiple occasions. The furthest he ever got was 100, but there was definitely more. And now, there would definitely be more.

Argo sits on his bed, a small pill bottle with a snake sticker covering his information sitting next to him- along with a bloodstained rag.

He rolls up his pants further- revealing his thigh. Fuck- his stupid fat ass thighs. He just wants to be skinny- to look like a normal guy.

The first slash, not nearly deep enough. He's gone soft.

Another, deeper- but still not as harsh as he could.

Another.

Another.

another.

Argo hesitantly puts the razor back, into the pill bottle where it belongs.. and under his bed. He bandages his cuts, but he knows the silly bandaids he likes won't stick- there's too much bleeding for them to stick. But he does so anyways, rolling his pants back down.

He had made sure the room was empty- he was sure. but.. maybe he was wrong. He looks at you, covers the pill bottle and rag with a blanket. "How long have you been there-"

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss @judas-of-eris @onlymythologypersonincamp @echos-from-the-past

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

"You hurt yourself. You can't possibly be fine right now." She hesitated for a few moments. She was probably being way too insistent, wasn't she? "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Open Starter

(TW: Self harm, self hatred, body issues, blood)

Anyone can interact (as long as you are comfortable and can be mature abt subject matter)

°•~Real Man~•°

this is another warning because writing is a very helpful coping skill for me, but it can be triggering to interact with. If you are uncomfortable, please do not interact! Keep yourself safe, you know your boundaries.

The sun had barely gone down, but the itch had already come back. The moist late spring to early summer air had mad mosquitos flock to Argo's room- biting up his legs. And he just.. couldn't stop itching. It got so bad that he just.. couldn't stop. His calves are raw and scratched.. and they still itch.

And, of course, rolling up his pants to scratch the itch had shown his scars. The.. older ones that were on his calves. White and faded, but still glaringly obvious. It was like they were teasing Argo. You wanted people to notice- attention whore.

He was 13 when it had all started- right after the first Lethe fiasco. People had.. stopped talking to him- and was it so bad he wanted people to make sure he was okay? It wasn't like this was a new urge- Luna had been trying to hurt herself since she was 8, as she had helpfully informed Argo of when she was part or his consciousness.. but, at 13, he learned how to get razors.

Argo had tried to count his scars on multiple occasions. The furthest he ever got was 100, but there was definitely more. And now, there would definitely be more.

Argo sits on his bed, a small pill bottle with a snake sticker covering his information sitting next to him- along with a bloodstained rag.

He rolls up his pants further- revealing his thigh. Fuck- his stupid fat ass thighs. He just wants to be skinny- to look like a normal guy.

The first slash, not nearly deep enough. He's gone soft.

Another, deeper- but still not as harsh as he could.

Another.

Another.

another.

Argo hesitantly puts the razor back, into the pill bottle where it belongs.. and under his bed. He bandages his cuts, but he knows the silly bandaids he likes won't stick- there's too much bleeding for them to stick. But he does so anyways, rolling his pants back down.

He had made sure the room was empty- he was sure. but.. maybe he was wrong. He looks at you, covers the pill bottle and rag with a blanket. "How long have you been there-"

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss @judas-of-eris @onlymythologypersonincamp @echos-from-the-past

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

"I'm sorry, but you aren't fine, Argo..." She pulled out some bandages and bigger bandaids from her purse. "These might be a bit better."

Open Starter

(TW: Self harm, self hatred, body issues, blood)

Anyone can interact (as long as you are comfortable and can be mature abt subject matter)

°•~Real Man~•°

this is another warning because writing is a very helpful coping skill for me, but it can be triggering to interact with. If you are uncomfortable, please do not interact! Keep yourself safe, you know your boundaries.

The sun had barely gone down, but the itch had already come back. The moist late spring to early summer air had mad mosquitos flock to Argo's room- biting up his legs. And he just.. couldn't stop itching. It got so bad that he just.. couldn't stop. His calves are raw and scratched.. and they still itch.

And, of course, rolling up his pants to scratch the itch had shown his scars. The.. older ones that were on his calves. White and faded, but still glaringly obvious. It was like they were teasing Argo. You wanted people to notice- attention whore.

He was 13 when it had all started- right after the first Lethe fiasco. People had.. stopped talking to him- and was it so bad he wanted people to make sure he was okay? It wasn't like this was a new urge- Luna had been trying to hurt herself since she was 8, as she had helpfully informed Argo of when she was part or his consciousness.. but, at 13, he learned how to get razors.

Argo had tried to count his scars on multiple occasions. The furthest he ever got was 100, but there was definitely more. And now, there would definitely be more.

Argo sits on his bed, a small pill bottle with a snake sticker covering his information sitting next to him- along with a bloodstained rag.

He rolls up his pants further- revealing his thigh. Fuck- his stupid fat ass thighs. He just wants to be skinny- to look like a normal guy.

The first slash, not nearly deep enough. He's gone soft.

Another, deeper- but still not as harsh as he could.

Another.

Another.

another.

Argo hesitantly puts the razor back, into the pill bottle where it belongs.. and under his bed. He bandages his cuts, but he knows the silly bandaids he likes won't stick- there's too much bleeding for them to stick. But he does so anyways, rolling his pants back down.

He had made sure the room was empty- he was sure. but.. maybe he was wrong. He looks at you, covers the pill bottle and rag with a blanket. "How long have you been there-"

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss @judas-of-eris @onlymythologypersonincamp @echos-from-the-past

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

"It's not wrong to want or need support, Argo. This isn't something you should have to go through all alone."

Open Starter

(TW: Self harm, self hatred, body issues, blood)

Anyone can interact (as long as you are comfortable and can be mature abt subject matter)

°•~Real Man~•°

this is another warning because writing is a very helpful coping skill for me, but it can be triggering to interact with. If you are uncomfortable, please do not interact! Keep yourself safe, you know your boundaries.

The sun had barely gone down, but the itch had already come back. The moist late spring to early summer air had mad mosquitos flock to Argo's room- biting up his legs. And he just.. couldn't stop itching. It got so bad that he just.. couldn't stop. His calves are raw and scratched.. and they still itch.

And, of course, rolling up his pants to scratch the itch had shown his scars. The.. older ones that were on his calves. White and faded, but still glaringly obvious. It was like they were teasing Argo. You wanted people to notice- attention whore.

He was 13 when it had all started- right after the first Lethe fiasco. People had.. stopped talking to him- and was it so bad he wanted people to make sure he was okay? It wasn't like this was a new urge- Luna had been trying to hurt herself since she was 8, as she had helpfully informed Argo of when she was part or his consciousness.. but, at 13, he learned how to get razors.

Argo had tried to count his scars on multiple occasions. The furthest he ever got was 100, but there was definitely more. And now, there would definitely be more.

Argo sits on his bed, a small pill bottle with a snake sticker covering his information sitting next to him- along with a bloodstained rag.

He rolls up his pants further- revealing his thigh. Fuck- his stupid fat ass thighs. He just wants to be skinny- to look like a normal guy.

The first slash, not nearly deep enough. He's gone soft.

Another, deeper- but still not as harsh as he could.

Another.

Another.

another.

Argo hesitantly puts the razor back, into the pill bottle where it belongs.. and under his bed. He bandages his cuts, but he knows the silly bandaids he likes won't stick- there's too much bleeding for them to stick. But he does so anyways, rolling his pants back down.

He had made sure the room was empty- he was sure. but.. maybe he was wrong. He looks at you, covers the pill bottle and rag with a blanket. "How long have you been there-"

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss @judas-of-eris @onlymythologypersonincamp @echos-from-the-past

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

She sighed. "Alright. Just... I'll go make you a snack or something, okay? I'm not- I haven't gotten any better at handling this, have I? But I'm gonna try my best."

Open Starter

(TW: Self harm, self hatred, body issues, blood)

Anyone can interact (as long as you are comfortable and can be mature abt subject matter)

°•~Real Man~•°

this is another warning because writing is a very helpful coping skill for me, but it can be triggering to interact with. If you are uncomfortable, please do not interact! Keep yourself safe, you know your boundaries.

The sun had barely gone down, but the itch had already come back. The moist late spring to early summer air had mad mosquitos flock to Argo's room- biting up his legs. And he just.. couldn't stop itching. It got so bad that he just.. couldn't stop. His calves are raw and scratched.. and they still itch.

And, of course, rolling up his pants to scratch the itch had shown his scars. The.. older ones that were on his calves. White and faded, but still glaringly obvious. It was like they were teasing Argo. You wanted people to notice- attention whore.

He was 13 when it had all started- right after the first Lethe fiasco. People had.. stopped talking to him- and was it so bad he wanted people to make sure he was okay? It wasn't like this was a new urge- Luna had been trying to hurt herself since she was 8, as she had helpfully informed Argo of when she was part or his consciousness.. but, at 13, he learned how to get razors.

Argo had tried to count his scars on multiple occasions. The furthest he ever got was 100, but there was definitely more. And now, there would definitely be more.

Argo sits on his bed, a small pill bottle with a snake sticker covering his information sitting next to him- along with a bloodstained rag.

He rolls up his pants further- revealing his thigh. Fuck- his stupid fat ass thighs. He just wants to be skinny- to look like a normal guy.

The first slash, not nearly deep enough. He's gone soft.

Another, deeper- but still not as harsh as he could.

Another.

Another.

another.

Argo hesitantly puts the razor back, into the pill bottle where it belongs.. and under his bed. He bandages his cuts, but he knows the silly bandaids he likes won't stick- there's too much bleeding for them to stick. But he does so anyways, rolling his pants back down.

He had made sure the room was empty- he was sure. but.. maybe he was wrong. He looks at you, covers the pill bottle and rag with a blanket. "How long have you been there-"

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss @judas-of-eris @onlymythologypersonincamp @echos-from-the-past

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

She held up her hands again. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to sound upset at all. You don't need to apologize. You've done nothing wrong. You're just hurt. I want to be able to help you feel better, but you need to talk to me."

Open Starter

(TW: Self harm, self hatred, body issues, blood)

Anyone can interact (as long as you are comfortable and can be mature abt subject matter)

°•~Real Man~•°

this is another warning because writing is a very helpful coping skill for me, but it can be triggering to interact with. If you are uncomfortable, please do not interact! Keep yourself safe, you know your boundaries.

The sun had barely gone down, but the itch had already come back. The moist late spring to early summer air had mad mosquitos flock to Argo's room- biting up his legs. And he just.. couldn't stop itching. It got so bad that he just.. couldn't stop. His calves are raw and scratched.. and they still itch.

And, of course, rolling up his pants to scratch the itch had shown his scars. The.. older ones that were on his calves. White and faded, but still glaringly obvious. It was like they were teasing Argo. You wanted people to notice- attention whore.

He was 13 when it had all started- right after the first Lethe fiasco. People had.. stopped talking to him- and was it so bad he wanted people to make sure he was okay? It wasn't like this was a new urge- Luna had been trying to hurt herself since she was 8, as she had helpfully informed Argo of when she was part or his consciousness.. but, at 13, he learned how to get razors.

Argo had tried to count his scars on multiple occasions. The furthest he ever got was 100, but there was definitely more. And now, there would definitely be more.

Argo sits on his bed, a small pill bottle with a snake sticker covering his information sitting next to him- along with a bloodstained rag.

He rolls up his pants further- revealing his thigh. Fuck- his stupid fat ass thighs. He just wants to be skinny- to look like a normal guy.

The first slash, not nearly deep enough. He's gone soft.

Another, deeper- but still not as harsh as he could.

Another.

Another.

another.

Argo hesitantly puts the razor back, into the pill bottle where it belongs.. and under his bed. He bandages his cuts, but he knows the silly bandaids he likes won't stick- there's too much bleeding for them to stick. But he does so anyways, rolling his pants back down.

He had made sure the room was empty- he was sure. but.. maybe he was wrong. He looks at you, covers the pill bottle and rag with a blanket. "How long have you been there-"

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss @judas-of-eris @onlymythologypersonincamp @echos-from-the-past

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

"You aren't being dramatic, Argo! You need to understand that! How many people do you think would have a 'not dramatic' response?" She tried to keep her voice level.

Open Starter

(TW: Self harm, self hatred, body issues, blood)

Anyone can interact (as long as you are comfortable and can be mature abt subject matter)

°•~Real Man~•°

this is another warning because writing is a very helpful coping skill for me, but it can be triggering to interact with. If you are uncomfortable, please do not interact! Keep yourself safe, you know your boundaries.

The sun had barely gone down, but the itch had already come back. The moist late spring to early summer air had mad mosquitos flock to Argo's room- biting up his legs. And he just.. couldn't stop itching. It got so bad that he just.. couldn't stop. His calves are raw and scratched.. and they still itch.

And, of course, rolling up his pants to scratch the itch had shown his scars. The.. older ones that were on his calves. White and faded, but still glaringly obvious. It was like they were teasing Argo. You wanted people to notice- attention whore.

He was 13 when it had all started- right after the first Lethe fiasco. People had.. stopped talking to him- and was it so bad he wanted people to make sure he was okay? It wasn't like this was a new urge- Luna had been trying to hurt herself since she was 8, as she had helpfully informed Argo of when she was part or his consciousness.. but, at 13, he learned how to get razors.

Argo had tried to count his scars on multiple occasions. The furthest he ever got was 100, but there was definitely more. And now, there would definitely be more.

Argo sits on his bed, a small pill bottle with a snake sticker covering his information sitting next to him- along with a bloodstained rag.

He rolls up his pants further- revealing his thigh. Fuck- his stupid fat ass thighs. He just wants to be skinny- to look like a normal guy.

The first slash, not nearly deep enough. He's gone soft.

Another, deeper- but still not as harsh as he could.

Another.

Another.

another.

Argo hesitantly puts the razor back, into the pill bottle where it belongs.. and under his bed. He bandages his cuts, but he knows the silly bandaids he likes won't stick- there's too much bleeding for them to stick. But he does so anyways, rolling his pants back down.

He had made sure the room was empty- he was sure. but.. maybe he was wrong. He looks at you, covers the pill bottle and rag with a blanket. "How long have you been there-"

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss @judas-of-eris @onlymythologypersonincamp @echos-from-the-past

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

She held his hands. "No, Argo, you're not being dramatic. I need you to understand that this is a perfectly normal response."

Open Starter

(TW: Self harm, self hatred, body issues, blood)

Anyone can interact (as long as you are comfortable and can be mature abt subject matter)

°•~Real Man~•°

this is another warning because writing is a very helpful coping skill for me, but it can be triggering to interact with. If you are uncomfortable, please do not interact! Keep yourself safe, you know your boundaries.

The sun had barely gone down, but the itch had already come back. The moist late spring to early summer air had mad mosquitos flock to Argo's room- biting up his legs. And he just.. couldn't stop itching. It got so bad that he just.. couldn't stop. His calves are raw and scratched.. and they still itch.

And, of course, rolling up his pants to scratch the itch had shown his scars. The.. older ones that were on his calves. White and faded, but still glaringly obvious. It was like they were teasing Argo. You wanted people to notice- attention whore.

He was 13 when it had all started- right after the first Lethe fiasco. People had.. stopped talking to him- and was it so bad he wanted people to make sure he was okay? It wasn't like this was a new urge- Luna had been trying to hurt herself since she was 8, as she had helpfully informed Argo of when she was part or his consciousness.. but, at 13, he learned how to get razors.

Argo had tried to count his scars on multiple occasions. The furthest he ever got was 100, but there was definitely more. And now, there would definitely be more.

Argo sits on his bed, a small pill bottle with a snake sticker covering his information sitting next to him- along with a bloodstained rag.

He rolls up his pants further- revealing his thigh. Fuck- his stupid fat ass thighs. He just wants to be skinny- to look like a normal guy.

The first slash, not nearly deep enough. He's gone soft.

Another, deeper- but still not as harsh as he could.

Another.

Another.

another.

Argo hesitantly puts the razor back, into the pill bottle where it belongs.. and under his bed. He bandages his cuts, but he knows the silly bandaids he likes won't stick- there's too much bleeding for them to stick. But he does so anyways, rolling his pants back down.

He had made sure the room was empty- he was sure. but.. maybe he was wrong. He looks at you, covers the pill bottle and rag with a blanket. "How long have you been there-"

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss @judas-of-eris @onlymythologypersonincamp @echos-from-the-past

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

"Do you wanna take her back to the Selene cabin? I got some stuff I need to clean, and I'm sure the bunk will be more comfy than a chair."

Colds sucked. There was no denying that. Turns out, after falling into the lake in the middle of the winter, being a Hunter of Artemis couldn't protect her from catching one. She didn't want to worry Lady Artemis, but Marilene was following her around, fussing over how she should have been more careful. Not that she was being mean about it. She just couldn't stand to see her little sister sick.

"Please, just take some medicine! It will make you feel better, I promise."

@sophia-hunter-of-artemis @overlyprotectiveheadcounselor

Comet was no better. As soon as he heard, he nagged on her to rest and have some orange juice.

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

"Shhhhh... don't apologize..." she murmered. "Just tell me if there's any way I can help you..."

Open Starter

(TW: Self harm, self hatred, body issues, blood)

Anyone can interact (as long as you are comfortable and can be mature abt subject matter)

°•~Real Man~•°

this is another warning because writing is a very helpful coping skill for me, but it can be triggering to interact with. If you are uncomfortable, please do not interact! Keep yourself safe, you know your boundaries.

The sun had barely gone down, but the itch had already come back. The moist late spring to early summer air had mad mosquitos flock to Argo's room- biting up his legs. And he just.. couldn't stop itching. It got so bad that he just.. couldn't stop. His calves are raw and scratched.. and they still itch.

And, of course, rolling up his pants to scratch the itch had shown his scars. The.. older ones that were on his calves. White and faded, but still glaringly obvious. It was like they were teasing Argo. You wanted people to notice- attention whore.

He was 13 when it had all started- right after the first Lethe fiasco. People had.. stopped talking to him- and was it so bad he wanted people to make sure he was okay? It wasn't like this was a new urge- Luna had been trying to hurt herself since she was 8, as she had helpfully informed Argo of when she was part or his consciousness.. but, at 13, he learned how to get razors.

Argo had tried to count his scars on multiple occasions. The furthest he ever got was 100, but there was definitely more. And now, there would definitely be more.

Argo sits on his bed, a small pill bottle with a snake sticker covering his information sitting next to him- along with a bloodstained rag.

He rolls up his pants further- revealing his thigh. Fuck- his stupid fat ass thighs. He just wants to be skinny- to look like a normal guy.

The first slash, not nearly deep enough. He's gone soft.

Another, deeper- but still not as harsh as he could.

Another.

Another.

another.

Argo hesitantly puts the razor back, into the pill bottle where it belongs.. and under his bed. He bandages his cuts, but he knows the silly bandaids he likes won't stick- there's too much bleeding for them to stick. But he does so anyways, rolling his pants back down.

He had made sure the room was empty- he was sure. but.. maybe he was wrong. He looks at you, covers the pill bottle and rag with a blanket. "How long have you been there-"

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss @judas-of-eris @onlymythologypersonincamp @echos-from-the-past

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

She continued to hug him, humming what sounded like a lullaby.

Open Starter

(TW: Self harm, self hatred, body issues, blood)

Anyone can interact (as long as you are comfortable and can be mature abt subject matter)

°•~Real Man~•°

this is another warning because writing is a very helpful coping skill for me, but it can be triggering to interact with. If you are uncomfortable, please do not interact! Keep yourself safe, you know your boundaries.

The sun had barely gone down, but the itch had already come back. The moist late spring to early summer air had mad mosquitos flock to Argo's room- biting up his legs. And he just.. couldn't stop itching. It got so bad that he just.. couldn't stop. His calves are raw and scratched.. and they still itch.

And, of course, rolling up his pants to scratch the itch had shown his scars. The.. older ones that were on his calves. White and faded, but still glaringly obvious. It was like they were teasing Argo. You wanted people to notice- attention whore.

He was 13 when it had all started- right after the first Lethe fiasco. People had.. stopped talking to him- and was it so bad he wanted people to make sure he was okay? It wasn't like this was a new urge- Luna had been trying to hurt herself since she was 8, as she had helpfully informed Argo of when she was part or his consciousness.. but, at 13, he learned how to get razors.

Argo had tried to count his scars on multiple occasions. The furthest he ever got was 100, but there was definitely more. And now, there would definitely be more.

Argo sits on his bed, a small pill bottle with a snake sticker covering his information sitting next to him- along with a bloodstained rag.

He rolls up his pants further- revealing his thigh. Fuck- his stupid fat ass thighs. He just wants to be skinny- to look like a normal guy.

The first slash, not nearly deep enough. He's gone soft.

Another, deeper- but still not as harsh as he could.

Another.

Another.

another.

Argo hesitantly puts the razor back, into the pill bottle where it belongs.. and under his bed. He bandages his cuts, but he knows the silly bandaids he likes won't stick- there's too much bleeding for them to stick. But he does so anyways, rolling his pants back down.

He had made sure the room was empty- he was sure. but.. maybe he was wrong. He looks at you, covers the pill bottle and rag with a blanket. "How long have you been there-"

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss @judas-of-eris @onlymythologypersonincamp @echos-from-the-past

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

"Some things we don't like are just what we need to get better. Like sleep," she muttered.

Colds sucked. There was no denying that. Turns out, after falling into the lake in the middle of the winter, being a Hunter of Artemis couldn't protect her from catching one. She didn't want to worry Lady Artemis, but Marilene was following her around, fussing over how she should have been more careful. Not that she was being mean about it. She just couldn't stand to see her little sister sick.

"Please, just take some medicine! It will make you feel better, I promise."

@sophia-hunter-of-artemis @overlyprotectiveheadcounselor

Comet was no better. As soon as he heard, he nagged on her to rest and have some orange juice.

[overlyprotectiveheadcounselor]

She made sure not to hug him too tight, but part of it was trying to reassure herself that he would be fine. As long as she hugged him, he couldn't get hurt.

Open Starter

(TW: Self harm, self hatred, body issues, blood)

Anyone can interact (as long as you are comfortable and can be mature abt subject matter)

°•~Real Man~•°

this is another warning because writing is a very helpful coping skill for me, but it can be triggering to interact with. If you are uncomfortable, please do not interact! Keep yourself safe, you know your boundaries.

The sun had barely gone down, but the itch had already come back. The moist late spring to early summer air had mad mosquitos flock to Argo's room- biting up his legs. And he just.. couldn't stop itching. It got so bad that he just.. couldn't stop. His calves are raw and scratched.. and they still itch.

And, of course, rolling up his pants to scratch the itch had shown his scars. The.. older ones that were on his calves. White and faded, but still glaringly obvious. It was like they were teasing Argo. You wanted people to notice- attention whore.

He was 13 when it had all started- right after the first Lethe fiasco. People had.. stopped talking to him- and was it so bad he wanted people to make sure he was okay? It wasn't like this was a new urge- Luna had been trying to hurt herself since she was 8, as she had helpfully informed Argo of when she was part or his consciousness.. but, at 13, he learned how to get razors.

Argo had tried to count his scars on multiple occasions. The furthest he ever got was 100, but there was definitely more. And now, there would definitely be more.

Argo sits on his bed, a small pill bottle with a snake sticker covering his information sitting next to him- along with a bloodstained rag.

He rolls up his pants further- revealing his thigh. Fuck- his stupid fat ass thighs. He just wants to be skinny- to look like a normal guy.

The first slash, not nearly deep enough. He's gone soft.

Another, deeper- but still not as harsh as he could.

Another.

Another.

another.

Argo hesitantly puts the razor back, into the pill bottle where it belongs.. and under his bed. He bandages his cuts, but he knows the silly bandaids he likes won't stick- there's too much bleeding for them to stick. But he does so anyways, rolling his pants back down.

He had made sure the room was empty- he was sure. but.. maybe he was wrong. He looks at you, covers the pill bottle and rag with a blanket. "How long have you been there-"

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss @judas-of-eris @onlymythologypersonincamp @echos-from-the-past