#tw: self-doubt

[leesacrakon]

Sanders Sides Appreciation Month: Logan/Logic Week, Day 3- The Heart behind the Mind

The third day of @cefmua56  ‘s Sanders Sides Appreciation Month! I’m not doing a specific challenge they created or today, but I’m going with the theme! (Logan experiencing emotions and stuff) Hope you guys enjoy my usual angst! Lowercase and other grammar mistakes (run on sentences, lack of commas, etc.) are on purpose. 

Tag List: @tiny-mudkip @romananalogicality @the-sun-shines-bright @pattonpending @edgeworthsnoodle @lovely-chaotic-goddess @the-babysitter @aph-curls-n-dimples @sunnyside12pershon @cup-of-blue @xix-leiloves-xix

Fandoms: Sanders Sides, YouTube, Thomas Sanders

Warnings: Panic attack, self-hatred, self-doubt, thoughts of death, Logan swears once, and self-deprecating thoughts

Ship(s): Platonic Logicality

Logan was a failure. A stupid, annoying, useless failure. That’s what Roman had said after it happened, screaming those words at him as he chucked a glass vase at his head. The problem had been simple, his plan flawless, and yet everything had fallen apart. Virgil had gotten hurt. They all had gotten hurt. Thomas was too afraid to even leave his room at the moment, and it was all his fault. He was faulty, imperfect, his mind crumbling to pieces, everything he wasn’t supposed to be. He had sprinted up to his room long ago, just standing in the center of it and trying to calm himself down with deep, even breaths. He was Logic. He wasn’t supposed to be acting like this. He needed to pull himself together. He was soon interrupted by a very concerned, very pissed off Patton. 

“Logan...Logan, look at me. It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Patton said soothingly, resting his hands on Logic’s shoulder. The other aspect flinched away and backed into the corner of his room, sliding down the wall and burying his head in his hands. Patton was just softening the blow. Virgil and Roman had sent him up here to yell at him, to tell him how much of a failure he was and how they didn’t need him anymore and-

“Whoa, kiddo, I need you to breathe, okay? Here, feel my heart. Try to match yours with it,” Patton said, taking one of Logan’s hands gently and resting it against his chest where his heart should be. Logan sucked in much-needed air and immediately hated himself for it. Why was Patton helping him breathe? He should just let him die. He was worthless, imperfect. 

“I-I messed up, it’s all my fault. Y-You all hate me,” Logan choked, snatching his hand away from Morality’s grip and curling up on himself. Patton swallowed hard, not wanting to touch Logan since it would probably just make his attack worse, but wanting to help somehow. 

“We don’t hate you, Logan, we just got a little angry-”

“Roman h-hurt me,” Logan whimpered. “He hurt m-me. He hates me. I-I’m a fuck up.” Patton’s eyes widened slightly in fear and he remembered the fight, the vase that had been thrown, the way Logan had screamed as the glass shattered just inches above his head. 

“He didn’t mean to, he was just mad. He- Oh my God, Logan, breathe!” Logan was hyperventilating, his eyes half closed and his nails digging into his palms. Patton’s hands trembled, hovering just inches above Logan’s clenched fists. It was always so much harder to calm Logan down compared to the others.  

“W-Why can’t b-breathe? What’s h-happening?!” Logan whimpered, his confusion at what was happening to him only increasing his panic. He felt he was spiraling downward into some dark hole that was going to swallow him up, his chest was tight and black dots were dancing in front of his eyes from lack of oxygen. He couldn’t understand what Patton was saying but he could see some sort of wet substance down his face as he cupped Logan’s face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together and trying to get him to breathe. Logan didn't want patton to be like this patton was always smiling he was happy why was he like this was it his fault what was he doing- Logan shuddered and gripped the front of Patton’s shirt tightly, trying to ground himself in any way possible. He was being absolutely ridiculous, but he supposed this just went to show how useless he was. 

“W-What’s that?” Logan asked, trying to distract himself, gently ghosting his fingers over the wetness on Patton’s cheeks, and then he blinked in surprise. There was some on his cheeks too. 

“W-Why...I’m leaking...?” Logan muttered in a confused whisper. Patton let out a half-chuckle, half-sob and pulled Logan into a hug, gently rubbing his rigid form. 

“ Logan, you’re crying,” Patton murmured, running his fingers through Logic’s hair. 

“C-Crying...?” Logan said, his voice still shaking but noticeably calmer. 

“Yeah...it’s perfectly natural. It’s a way to express emotions,” mumbled Patton, noticing with relief that Logic had begun to relax. But, what his friend said next nearly broke his heart. 

“I don’t have those,” Logan said with a sigh, nuzzling into Patton’s shoulder. Morality felt more tears well up in his eyes and he tilted Logan’s head up, wiping away his own tears with his thumb.

“Yeah you do, kiddo. You aren’t a machine. You’re flawed-” Logan flinched “-and you make mistakes, but so does everyone else. You get angry, sad, happy, and excited, just like everyone else,” Patton murmured. Patton felt Logan snake his arms around his waist and pull him closer, burying his face in the crook of his neck and whimpering softly.  

“I-I can’t...I shouldn’t. Logic’s purpose is to be flawless, to never make mistakes, to feel nothing and to just get things done. I c-can’t...I don’t want to let you all down,” Logan sobbed, his heart starting to race again. Patton gently cupped his cheeks and dried his tears once more. 

“Logan, look at me. You are not perfect. Roman is not perfect. I am not perfect. Virgil is not perfect. Thomas is not perfect. Not of us are perfect, and we aren’t supposed to be. You. Are. Human. You’re not a robot,” Patton said sternly, cupping Logan’s face in his hands and holding back his tears for Logan’s sake. The other trait blink before resting his forehead against Patton’s nodding slightly. 

I am not perfect, but that is okay. I can feel emotions, and that is okay. I am Logan, and my purpose is to help Thomas to the best of my ability. I am not perfect, and that is okay. You don’t have to be perfect. No one does. 

[leesacrakon]

Sanders Sides Apprecation Month: Patton Week, Day 2-Dog Days

Wow....these....are sadder than I wanted them to be. I TURNED CUTE ANIMALS INTO THINGS OF DEPRESSION WHAT IS MY LIFE. Anyways, these headcanons were written for Day 2 of Patton week for @cefmua56  ‘s Sanders Sides Appreciation Month! I wrote headcanons instead of a fic because of time and my brain isn’t functioning. 

tag list:  @romananalogicality @tiny-mudkip @lovely-chaotic-goddess @the-sun-shines-bright @pattonpending@edgeworthsnoodle @the-babysitter@sunnyside12pershon @aph-curls-n-dimples @cup-of-blue @xix-leiloves-xix  

Challenge B:  How would Patton react if either he or one of the other sides turned into a dog or any other type of cute animal? (Could be art, fanfic, poem, head cannon, anything!)

Fandom(s): Sanders Sides, YouTube, Thomas Sanders

Warnings: Stress, overworking, implied fighting, implied panic attacks, implied depressive episodes, implied self-doubt (I’M SO SORRY)

Ship(s): PattonxEVERYONE

Logan turns into a Norwegian forest cat: 

He enjoys being small and super fluffy, although he’ll never admit it. He only turns into a cat when he’s either having a bad day, has overworked himself or is stressed about work he still has to do. He’ll scuttle into Patton’s room and use various things in the bedroom to help him climb up onto Patton's bed. When Patton isn’t there, he’ll stay curled up on Patton’s pillow until he falls asleep, waiting for Patton's return. When Patton sees cat-Logan curled up on his pillow he always squeals a little at how cute he is and immediately scoops him up into his arms. Knowing that he’s probably had a bad day, which made him change, Patton will pet him and tell him how proud of him he is. He’ll talk about all of the times Logan helped Thomas and the others and let Logan snuggle up to his chest as he gently strokes his back. After maybe an hour or so Logan slowly transitions back into his regular form and the two lay on Patton’s bed, arms wrapped around each other. If Logan is still upset, Patton will continue to tell him how amazing he is and how important he is to him, Thomas, and the others.

-Virgil turns into a Netherland dwarf rabbit:

He’s very, very small so he’s easy to lose. He usually changes as a way to tease the others and hide from them, sending them all on a wild goose chase. He always lets Patton find him though. The fatherly figure thinks he’s one of the most adorable things in the world and will hold Virgil in his arms for hours. Some days, though, he turns into a rabbit because he got into a fight with one of the sides and just wants to go hide away somewhere. Like always, though, Patton finds him. Rabbits scream ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-3z-TjnqB4 ) when they’re under extreme stress or suffering, so when he finds Virgil and hears him screaming, he lays down next to him on the floor and pets him gently, trying to coax him out of his panic. Virgil will quiet down after a few moments, but his ears will still be flat against his head and he’ll be trembling. Patton will scoop him up in his arms, saying nothing, and just pet him as he rocks back and forth. When Virgil changes back he stays curled up in Patton’s lap, whimpering and shaking until he calms down enough to flee to his room.

Roman turns into a chipmunk:

Roman’s changes are always involuntary. He switches from a man into a chipmunk when he’s under extreme stress, panic, or is having a depressive episode after an argument, a failed idea, etc. Because he’s so tiny he’s hard to catch and him being panicked doesn’t help. Patton will usually be the one to chase after him since the other two were most likely the cause of the sudden change and are pissed off at Roman. Patton will chase Roman around the house for hours until the poor guy collapses on the ground, panting, still a chipmunk. Roman likes to be given his space during times like this so Patton will keep his distance, but keep his hand on the floor so that when Roman calms down, he can crawl up onto Patton’s shoulder or go into his pocket, where he’ll stay for the rest of the day. Patton will tell him stories about his successful quests. When he changes back he clings to Patton, who thankfully doesn’t mind, and completely avoids the other two for days. If Roman is crying and still almost as upset as he was when he was a chipmunk, Patton will take him up to his room where the happy energy will help him feel better, and assure him that he isn’t a failure and Thomas wouldn’t be Thomas without him. 

So, basically, the sides change into animals when they’re upset and then Patton is a dad and makes them feel better so they can change back. 

[descaladumidera]

my mind

[quxtcthcrxvcn]

((Gotta love late night insecurities...))

[nieithryn]

@artisticallydcne for no reason

             Tet had always rather hoped the Ascendancy had simply thought him dead, when his reports stopped coming in.  After all, he wouldn’t have been the first of the acolytes to be killed, and all things considered, it wasn’t like he’d be missed.  He was only sent because he was expendable after all, who would miss him?  Better he die for the Ascendancy than return in failure...

             That wasn’t an option now, he knew.  He still wasn’t even a standard twenty years, and Thrawn...was everything he’d wanted to be.  It didn’t take more than a glance and the other’s voice to tell him that, even if he couldn’t feel the calm confidence that radiated from him.  Confident, self-assured...intelligent and cunning in equal measure.  No, Dutetko was none of that.  He wasn’t even physically powerful, despite his best attempts.  He still looked like a gangly teen, all long limbs and the only grace offered coming from the Force.

             He didn’t pace as he waited for the other to arrive.  He’d been summoned, and come like good son of Csilla should.  And waiting felt like it might be the end of him.  I’m always waiting, he thought quietly, reaching for where his lightsabers should have been...and sighing when he remembered they’d been taken.  Always waiting for something...

             Even when the door finally opened, he didn’t dare turn, jaw setting as he readied for some form of punishment.  Despite his height, he was drawn in on himself, making himself appear smaller than he was out of habit, in a vain attempt to hide, maybe...he always used to do that, when things went wrong at home...hiding seemed the best bet, even as he grew...sometimes people didn’t see him at all...

[static-behind-green-eyes]

Why I Am A Problem

I’ll be cryptic bout what I’m feeling out of fear

I’m afraid of being left behind and forgotten

I want to shoulder YOUR stress and problems, even if my body and mind screams for me not to

I care more about YOU and YOUR well being, even if I’m suffering deep inside and the emotional toll weighs heavily on my heart

I will refuse to let you know what I’m struggling with cause you have enough going on in your life

I hold a deep seated regret with my past actions (and it’s constantly whispering in my ear)

I cling…a lot due to fear of abandonment

I don’t like being the center of attention

I’m not an open book nor am I easily read

You’ll have to rip down decades of walls I’ve put up

I resort to sarcasm…a lot (defense mechanism)

A lot of silence when I’m thinking over things

I’ll give you a silly generic nickname (I have one for someone I really like)

I’ll disappear on you (please don’t follow me or ask me what’s going on, I’ll come back in due time)

I keep a lot of the tears inside me (kind of why I go quiet)

It takes me a lot of courage to break down in front of you

I never feel good enough for anyone

I’m a terrible to person to look up to

I’m far from a minimal decent role model

Regret, anger, fear are common emotions for me

After I break down, I go from intense negative emotions, to numbness to back to normal (the numbness causes confusion and will try to drag me back to the negative emotions, the numbness can last for a few days, to a few weeks, to a few months)

I have a lot of doubt

I’m an awful friend

I’m an awful daughter

I’m an awful sister

I’m an awful cousin

I’m an awful niece

I’m constantly fucking something up (if I haven’t yet…I will)

There’s a lot of self-hatred in me

I’m constantly blaming myself for a lot of things (even if I have no control over whatever is occurring because either I wasn’t physically there OR it was happening in a friend’s life or another family member I don’t live with)

I SHOULD’VE SEEN THE SIGNS!  (I’m a fucking terrible sister who should’ve ended up in the hospital all that time ago, not her, she didn’t deserve the shit they put her through…yeah she’s alive, but at what cost?)

My mind is in a constant state of a cacophony of thoughts

I will curl up into a ball and cry my heart out to the point that I have to run to the bathroom to empty my stomach (I pass out afterwards due to exhaustion)

My mind is constantly breaking further and further every day

I lie a lot about what I’m feeling for you due to assuming what you feel about me is not reciprocated (defense mechanism)

I don’t like being touched (like a pat on the shoulder is fine or a high five/hand shake, but if it’s skin-on-skin and I’m not the one who started it then I tense up)

I may seem confident but I’m really not.  Inside I’m terrified as shit that I gonna misplace my footing and set off a landmine of disastrous arguments that will end up in abandonment

I give off the impression that I don’t act my age when you just haven’t asked me what goes on in my head and let me explain the mechanics of my mind

I want to show you who I really am...I really do but I instantly jump to acting like an idiot because I assume you won’t understand anything that comes out of my mouth

I hide behind a false smile and forced laugh

I’m unlovable (that’s the honest truth, and if you do, you need to rethink who you’re looking at)

I have no future, let’s be honest here, I’ve got no worth to me as a person

I word vomit...a lot and it turns into me jumping from one subject to another

Negative words stick with me more than positive

I look at the negative more than the positive

[static-behind-green-eyes]

Is it bad that I'm really gonna miss everyone?  Mainly the people I've gotten close to over this school year?  It's going to be a rough summer because I can't really go out and walk around at ungodly hours of the night with someone.  Like sure I can text them, but that's not the same as physically talking to them in person.  There's something about them that has a sort of soothing effect on my mind.  Well, three of the four people do.  One of them tends to send my mind into overdrive.  In a good way. I would love to deny that I haven't fallen for a girl...but I'm in such a more accepting place then back home, so these emotions are bit more open now.  So yeah, I like a girl.  Head over damn heels.  I've shoved those half of feelings so far into the closet in the past, that I was actually terrified at first when they started developing.  I started having small anxiety attacks.  And it sucked.  It really sucked so much.  Cause sure, my parents are accepting of the Asexual part of me, but the whole being Bi/Pan-romantic...I'm not a hundred percent sure they'd be okay with that. I'm not even sure the REST of my family would be accepting of it.  I know my brother would be like 'just be you' and accept me no matter what but what about my parents?  My Uncles, my Aunts, my cousins, my God parents?  My friends are fully accepting of who I am, but I (for some stupid ass reason) want my family to accept that part of me as well. What do I do if they don't?  That would kill me.  It really would...And I don't know how I'd cope.

My Thoughts

[crosswind-clan]

Claybelly | Sabkha | Part 1 | Part 2

------

Zenith flies above the line of dragons beneath her, and their footsteps are covered by the sound of the wind.

They walk to the edge of the cliff where Sabhka's get's nest lies, and there are four of them, excluding her: Achlys and Adlivun, so small and delicate and dark; Firn, who has no need for stealth; and Hadal, visibly fretting and unable to chatter, perhaps even fretting because of it. None wear armor, and only Hadal carries anything with him. They walk to the edge.

When they reach it, Achlys waves her claws. A shining wind gathers swirling in tight circles at the edge, and the contingent steps off into nothing, held by magic. They silently descend, slow, painful minutes -- the air howls around them and the black night sea crashes beneath. Hadal sighs and fidgets with the satchel he carries, and the noise of the wind eats the soft clinking of the vials inside. Now they can see it, a lip of red-brown rock, and Hadal stills his thin and nervous arms.

They land without a sound.

The work is indeed quick and brutal and sad as they all find their targets, and it's adults first. Claybelly and Mudwing recieve a sharp jab in the shoulder. It's enough to wake them, but the contents of the vials are doing their work already -- "Shhh, shhh," is murmured over and over, and just like hatchlings they're soothed as the rest of the brood receives a similar treatment. There's a tense silence in the cave as Zenith ticks off a mental count for a full five minutes, waiting for the drug to take effect. When she does speak, it's full volume and jarring.

"Alright, Firn. Go."

The white wildclaw pads to Claybelly and lowers herself to the ground. "Don't listen," she whispers, and reaches out to cover the mirror's earholes. The drug does its work; she can't resist the suggestion. Zenith watches, nodding with satisfaction, and then her performer's voice rings out across the cave.

"You love the Windsinger," she calls. There's no wheedling, no whining, no artifice. "You love the Windsinger! What are you doing here but failing him?

"You who are old, you clutch and you hunt and you live day to day but you fail him. How could you succeed if you are not aiding in his eternal war? How does your life matter, if you're not doing that? You are pathetic. You are worthless. You are useless. You think breeding is your creation? You think you are in any way realizing what he embodies? You are dirt!" Mudwing lets out a keening roar that fills the cave.

"Shut up!" Zenith snaps. "Your crying won't help. But I can help. I can help you. Wait."

She flies in lazy whorls to the nest where the hatchlings lay. "I can help you," she murmurs to them, and their little faces crane up, eager to listen. "I can help you to do a good thing. Come with me. Come with me!" The last declaration is loud again, snapping through the cave, and the giant guardian lumbers to his feet, swaying. They all pass Claybelly, still held by Firn. They all pass her on the way to the edge.

Zenith flies behind them now, back and forth. Her voice is soothing, beautiful. "Dedicate yourself," she coos. "Dedicate yourself to the Windsinger. To his service. A life of eternal battle for the rightness of beauty, creativity -- dedicate yourselves to him. Lift into the air with the fire lit in your hearts. He will take you! Can you feel it? Do you burn for his service? For that eternal war, that purpose? Do it! Do it! Go!"

And one by one, they lift into the night -- the hatchlings first, taken by a flash of pale green light. Mudwing lingers.

"Worthless," Zenith hisses.

And he, too, lifts his great drugged form into the air.

----------

They're thorough with the cleanup: they sweep the dirt of the cave floor to rid it of evidence or tracks, and when they leave it's on another platform of wind, Claybelly sleeping and safe. No one touches her; no one says another word. She'll wake up in the morning, after all. That will be enough hurt.