[Even Sollux doesn't have perfect control over his gadgetry. Mostly because he has really, really fucking shitty luck.
And he was dumb enough to bring his portable computer into the bathroom with him before impulsively deciding to examine himself in the mirror.
He draws his shirt up, baring his stomach almost up to the chest. There are a few small scratches that have scabbed over and are nearly healed. But there on his stomach is a set of deep cuts, still scabbed with yellow blood and obviously deep. They form two
wavy lines, one on top of the other, and look to have been deliberately inflicted.
He grimaces at the sight and pulls the shirt down irritably to cover the cuts before grabbing his computer and walking off, muttering to himself]
They are definitely going to thcar. Fuck my life.