#tw: self-hate

[sirenlioncourt]

all my Julia photos with something conceptual in my mind, a-ha

2 of them were for vamptober (upper line)

2 from lower line were for fun and for my soul. especially i love “falling into darkness”. 

Julia is the most inspiring character for me~ 

[incorrect-quotes-egos]

Chase: I’m a miserable failure.

Anti: Yes, you are.

Chase: I’ve failed life.

Anti: Yes, you did.

Chase: I could use words of encouragement.

Anti: Yes, you could.

[autumn-oceanopromises]

(440) feels like a desert

i wake up and my mouth feels like a desert but also like tears rotted in it

my head is spinning and i am so hot boiling from the inside out like fat is decaying inside of me

my heart pounds weakly the tar blocking its every beat

i am slowing down and i deserve every moment of it

[aimforthedogstar]

No Escape

It was common knowledge around Hogwarts that Sirius Black was one of the most good-looking students at Hogwarts.

Gifted with all of the signature Black looks, Sirius was handsome, devilishly handsome. So much so that all anyone ever noticed about him were his looks and it was pity very few bothered to look beyond it.

With the ink black shoulder-length hair that fell in perfect waves around his chiseled face, he looked like he was carved out of marble. Coupled with grey eyes that resembled little pools of mercury, a thin small slightly upturned nose, full lips, sharp cheekbones, and a strong jawline, he was someone men and women lusted after.

Walking into a room, other’s always held his physical features as a standard of beauty and something to envy, but very few knew how Sirius felt about his own looks. Despite appearing to bask in the attention and the bold confidence with which he presented himself to the world, what he saw when he was alone in front of a mirror told a whole other story.

His midnight black curly hair brought forth resemblances he shared with Bellatrix and his deep-seated fear that their resemblance didn’t just end on the outside but also with parts that made him who he was on the inside.

In his grey eyes, hooded by heavy lids, he saw the burning anger and disgust his mother’s gaze always held when focused on him.

In the straight line of his nose, Sirius relived memories of Narcissa looking down on him as nothing but dirt on her robes.

In the high brow of his lips, he saw the sneer his brother bestowed upon him whenever their eyes met across the room.

As he touched gentle fingertips along his sharp cheekbones and jawline he remembered the foreboding shadows etched across his father’s face, stood before the fireplace, as he watched on with disappointment and disregard as Sirius stood before him at the mercy of his mother’s wand.

In the arch of his brows, he could see the condescending and disapproving line reminding him of his aunt and uncle.

In his eyes, Sirius was anything but pretty. In his eyes, Sirius was the jigsaw puzzle made up of all the pieces he loathed about his family. In his eyes, his looks were a constant reminder of where he came from, who he was and how, no matter how far and fast he ran, he would never escape being a Black.

[hadesgoddess]

I Thought You Loved Me

Soooooo I couldn’t sleep and I was feeling angsty and I really love Hank but sometimes you just need pain ya know?....and voila! this is just pure hurt/comfort my dudes! 

Tw Angst, self-loathing, depression, anxiety

Once upon a time, Hank said he and I were just ‘good friends’. Once upon a time, if anyone asked, I shook my head and blushed too hard to speak. Once upon a time, we couldn’t look each other in the eye without stammering.

Now, those times were years in the past. The months of pining silently and alone were over. I didn’t have to hide how I felt anymore and it had never felt so good, especially at times like this.

This function had been dragging on all evening, with the press and the shareholders all waiting in anticipation for the x-men to mess it up somehow. But even Logan had been on his best behavior. As the night grows ever darker, guests begin to make their way home.

As Jean and Ororo see each guest off at the doors, I make my way further into the atrium. The chandeliers set off a warm lighting, casting everyone still inside in dusk. I smile at Rogue as I slip around her to peer into the remaining crowd, trying to find my boyfriend.

“Where did he— Oh! There he is... with Tilby?” Sure enough, Trish Tilby is sitting next to Hank at a back table and leaning way too close. The way they were laughing also, it just pulled my heart tightly my chest. Still, I shake myself mentally and remind myself that there is no way Hank has anything but the intentions of a friend.

So then why is he leaning in too and why is his hand on top of hers? To an outsider, they look like a couple, hiding away from prying eyes to have a more private conversation.

While my mind swirls with questions, I hang back. I tell myself that I’m not spying, just letting them have their space, as anyone is granted even if I want to set their hair on fire.

“I can’t believe he can even stand to be near her after what she did to him... I know they parted on amicable terms, but to insult him like that on live television? He’s a better man than I could be—” My inner ranting freezes in terror as Hank leans further in and kisses Trish gently on the cheek while taking both her hands in his.

Time slows and the horizon tilts madly like a top, as if the Juggernaut just slammed his fist into the floor. Like I’m watching far from above, I see my body pivot and run from the room. My body jerks through the crowd, stumbling through multiple groups, and leaves disgruntled and confused guests in its wake. At the edge of my vision, I can see Hank’s outstretched hand as he tries to follow my chaotic path.

The edge of the room narrows, and with it, my vision, until I reach the side door. Leading out into an empty corridor, I flee down the hall only to fall to my knees beside a potted plant.

Not caring who sees, I curl up against the wall. My hands are shaking but the tears won’t come. All I can focus on is my harsh breath and the cold, empty spot growing in my chest. Only when I see the tip of blue fingers edge into my field of view, a hand outstretched with patient care, do I snap out of my spiral.

“Get away from me!” I try shouting, but it comes out a whisper instead. With this very physical reminder of my hurt, tears start to prick my eyes.

“Rose, I am not trying to hurt you. I don’t understand what’s going on. You only need to tell me and I will do everything in my power to help.” Hank sighs, confusion in his eyes.

“How—how can you say that! Are you really that thick? Last I checked, it wasn’t me who doubted your intelligence.” I hiss, pain wrenching my heart back and forth in my chest. Is he toying with me? I never believed he could be so cruel.

“...You saw me and Trish.” It wasn’t even a question, he already knows. He just had all the answers didn’t he?

“Yes, I saw you and Trish.” I’m not sure how I’m staying this calm. I feel like pushing him as far away from me as possible or throwing the plant at his head. But, no, those urges only stay for a second before fading back to heartache and turmoil. My head drops down onto my knees, hiding the pain, and my voice comes back quieter than ever.

“I saw you too holding hands and I watched you kiss her on the cheek.” Tears flow easily now, hidden from his sight. “How could you do that to me, Hank? I know I’m not Trish. I know I’m not smartest, or the prettiest, or the bravest person. But I thought you still liked me for me, just like I like you. I thought that you love—” I cut myself off, wishing I could take that back.

This is like a nightmare. My relationship with Hank had been like stepping off a cliff, it had been the first time I truly let myself fall for someone. That chance is the best and worst decision I ever made.

“I knew it would end this way. I knew I would be rejected and humiliated.” Shuddering gasps keep escaping with more tears as I finally look up into Hank’s eyes. “Can’t you see my heart is ripped open? I finally took a chance on us, on you, and it wound up confirming my worst fears. That I am worthless and not worth caring about. That you don’t care about me.”

I’m exhausted now and ready to curl up in bed, but I have to get there first. I ignore Hank’s outstretched hands and heave myself up. I don’t get more than a step before his arms wrap around my waist and stop me. I struggle for a minute, but there’s no point. He’s much stronger than me and besides, I feel my body desperately crave his affection.

“Stupid body!”  I scream at it and give up. Being held in his arms is a luxury I will never know again so I may as well enjoy it one last time.

“I don’t know what you heard, my heart, but you are sorely mistaken if you think you have been won out by Mrs. Trish Burton.” Hank whispers, lips pressed gently to the rim of my ear. As her last name stops me cold, he continues on pressing kiss after loving kiss down my neck. Hope, that wonderful and dangerous tickle of an emotion, flares in my heart.

“Y-you mean...” I lick my dry lips, struggling for words.

“Quite, dear Rose. She got married last spring and I was only congratulating her on a happy new marriage.” His lips are making a sure path along my jawbone as he turns me in his arms. “Now, what to do about the rest of your delusions?” 

“Not the prettiest? The smartest? Worthless and not worth caring about?” I didn’t say those to hurt him, it was only my own insecurity coming out. But with every self-inflicted insult he repeats, the pain in his eyes only grows. Soon tears of his own are making their way down his soft cheeks. I can’t resist reaching out to wipe them away myself.

“I didn’t realize— I can’t believe I didn’t see this was affecting you. Have I been so neglectful that you immediately assume the worst of yourself?” Emotion clogs his throat and I can feel the same welling up in me. “Did you think I didn’t love you?”

Both of our breaths catch; we’ve never said it before. Hank just stares at me, clearly scared and I know I must look a mirror opposite.

“He—he loves me? He loves me!” Even as my heart soared, I had to be quick to fix what I nearly destroyed.

“Oh, Hank... Oh, baby no, no, no... I shouldn’t have blamed you for that. I know how true you are. I should have trusted you enough to not freak out like that.” Oh, this is all my fault. 

“....I love you too...” My voice breaks as I whisper the words I’ve wanted to say for so long finally emerge.

Hank sighs in blessed relief and bows his head to rest his forehead against mine. For a minute all we do is breathe together, finding shelter in the storm of our emotions. It isn’t long before his lips lightly press against my nose, my cheeks, finally my lips. In his kiss, I can feel everything he is trying to say.

Every touch of his lips drags me further in, every caress of his hands spins me tighter. I feel like I’m drowning and yet, I can’t get enough. More, more, and more, I crave his mouth like an oasis in a desert. My heated emotions are reflected in Hank, I can tell when he grips my waist tightly and yanks me into his embrace.

In this moment, I have never felt more wanted. My earlier words seem frivolous and insane. What had I been thinking? This is the sweetest, most thoughtful man I know. He makes me feel desirable and special in the face of my greatest enemy; myself.

For tonight, this moment is all I need.

[tara-l-blackmore]

So, I wanna talk about this book.

My sister, @aetherist-blog-blog sent me a copy of this book, as she was/is (???) reading it, and realised that I, too, could benefit from it.

She was right, once again reminding me of just how well she knows me.

I'm barely into chapter two, and I've cried three times. Two small ones and a huge ugly one.

So with that, you'd assume the book is too painful. And yeah, you're fucking right.

But it's painful, because... because it forces me to get up close and personal with the pain I inflict upon myself. The pain I hurt myself with every damned day, more times than there are hours in a day, and to admit that...

It fucking hurt.

To admit that I've been kind to others, who are also experiencing strife and hardship, but when it comes to my own, I am a bully. I am a torturer. I want to be the executioner.

I hate myself.

And... that's really hard to admit. That's really hard to accept. That's really hard to live with.

Because I became my own permanent bully. I am horrendous with myself. I loathe myself, more than I would anyone else.

Because I blame myself for my pain, when there really is no one to blame for it - least of all myself.

I've been working on it. You'll see it, in some recent posts; I'll start to write something bad about myself, but instead of leaving it in or deleting it, I correct myself mid-sentence. I've been doing that in real life, too.

It's... hard.

To try and forgive yourself for things you blamed yourself for, when really, you should blame those whom have hurt you. To hurt yourself, too, to agree when someone hurts you... There is nothing more sad and pathetic than that.

But that's what I've been doing, for almost twenty years of my life.

It has to stop.

It has to stop because it hurts too much. It has to stop because nobody deserves to be called the names I call myself - and that includes me, too. And it has to stop, because it's hurting the people around me.

It's possibly why they leave. They can't take it. They can't deal with someone who lashes themselves twenty times when only giving someone else four for the same thing.

It's really not okay.

So I'm gonna stop.

It'll take a while. It's a lot of decades of self-hatred, to undo. But I have to at least fucking try.

Because I don't want to choke to death on my own hate.

[d-lewis-avengerwrangler]

In Memory of Stan

I never met Stan Lee, but he was a friend and mentor all the same, and I will miss him dearly.

I was a chronically bullied, socially awkward child with next to no friends outside of my brother and my books. I didn’t fit in at school, and my peers relished reminding me of my status as a weirdo, a freak, a loser, or worse on a daily basis. I hated myself, hated that something about me was obviously Not Right to the people I wanted to be accepted by, and I hated that I didn’t know what that Not Right thing was. And then my little brother encountered the X-Men arcade cabinet at our local bowling alley. It was based on the cartoons, some of which our Blockbuster happened to have, so naturally he begged our parents to rent them. I remember watching them and feeling a strong connection to the mutants in the show, because these were people that everyone else hated - and the things that everyone else hated them for were super-powers. Like, how stupid were the normal people? Mutations were awesome! I began telling myself that the Not Right thing about me was like a mutation that made me think and act different from everyone else, and that’s why other kids hated me... and it’d be stupid to hate myself for basically being a super-hero. After that, I kinda became obsessed with the X-Men - reading every comic I could get my hands on, memorizing trivia about the characters, etc.

About a year or two later, the first X-Men film came out. (It was one of the first PG-13 films I saw!) I remember sitting on the couch, watching as Mystique transformed on the airplane, and said, “You know, people like you are the reason I was afraid to go to school as a child.” It further cemented my “whatever the other kids think is Not Right about me is like a mutation” mentality. (Looking back, it could also have been the initial building block of my “murderous shape-shifting blue-skinned ‘villains’ with tragic backstories are Pure Cinnamon Rolls that require love and protection” mentality..?) When I was 14, my “mutation” - Asperger’s Syndrome - was diagnosed. Granted, it isn’t a cool mutation, like an accelerated healing factor, shape-shifting, or telekinesis, but it’s my mutation, and thanks to the X-Men (among other things) I was able to work through the pain of being hated by my peers (and myself) for what I was. There was never anything Not Right about me; there was just Something Different, and Stan Lee (and his mutants) helped me accept and embrace that.

Thank you for the world you created, Stan. I hope that someday we can create the world you dreamed up.

- Hanna (Darcy’s Mod)

[leesacrakon]

I has a prompt. I saw people talking about the houses the sides would be in when the new sanders sides video hadn't come out yet, but this person said that Patton might be in Slythrin and I was like "what?? Why would he be in slythrin? He's not evil" But then I saw their explination and I was like woah that does make sense and I was wondering if you could write a tiny fic about how the sides would react to Patton being put into Slythrin? Just like a Hogwarts au style thing

i love this sooooooooo much

this is one of the worst things I’ve ever written. I’m so sorry this turned out so bad. 

tag list: @here-to-vent @fandomsofrandom @mylasagnaisraw @virgilsspidercurtains @justanotherpurplebutterfly @tiny-mudkip @romananalogicality @pattonpending @edgeworthsnoodle @lovely-chaotic-goddess  @aph-curls-n-dimples @the-babysitter @sunnyside12pershon @xix-leiloves-xix @cup-of-blue @thegeekgirl42 @the-potterhead-phandom @emupoppyjay  @introverted-slytherin-of-history @virgilmood  @uriteurite-likethatlikethat @shimmerthenerd @theawesomestofsauces @poisin-youth @juju–universe

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

Warnings: Self-hatred, bullying, and neglect/abandonment

Ship(s): Platonic LAMP

“Sanders, Patton!”  

The youngest Sanders boy walked nervously up to the stool, trying to smile as he searched the crowd for his brothers. His oldest brother, Logan, stared at him intently from the Gryffindor table. 4th year Roman was standing up at the Ravenclaw table, his eyes shining with pride. 6th year Virgil wasn’t watching Patton but was already moved over so that there was an empty seat for his brother to sit in when he was sorted into Hufflepuff along with Virgil, just like everyone expected. Patton wasn’t so sure though, and his nervousness grew, even more, when the sorting hat was placed on his head.

“Ah yes, Patton, I’ve heard about you. You’re the supposed destined-to-be-Hufflepuff everyone’s been talking about,” the sorting hat mused, and Patton almost felt hopeful. The hat tsked, and his heart fell again.

“Are you sure you want to go there? Wouldn’t you rather go to a house where you could progress and grow, and become the wizard you were meant to be?” the hat said wisely to the anxious eleven-year-old boy. Patton blinked, thinking about it for a moment. He supposed the hat was right. Just because everyone else wanted to be a Hufflepuff didn’t mean he was actually going to be one. He let out a teeny smile and nodded.

The house hummed in approval before saying, “Then it ought to be….Slytherin!” The last table to Patton’ s left erupted into cheers and claps, and a few students even stood up to greet their newest house member. Patton hopped down from the stool, trying to smile as he searched the crowd for his brothers once again. Virgil was talking to a friend, Logan was looking down at the table in shock, and Roman was glaring at Patton with such a ferocious anger that the young wizard was sure holes had been burned through his body. Tears welled up in his eyes and he ran the rest of the way to the table, fighting back those gosh-darn-ding-dang tears in his eyes as he sat down on the bench. He was immediately clapped hard on the back, engulfed in hugs, and greeted so many times he lost count. He smiled once more, looking at the other boys and girls with dull eyes.

The rest of the week was hell. Every time Patton tried to talk to his brothers, they would turn away from him, acting as if he didn’t exist. Virgil was the only one to cast him the occasional pitying glance or squeeze his hand as they passed by one another in the halls, but Logan and Roman made no move to accept Patton’s horrifying stance as a Slytherin. Their father, Thomas, had always taught the four brothers that Slytherins weren’t always evil (he’d been close friends with Scorpius when they went to school), but it seemed that Patton and Virgil had been the only ones to listen to that lesson.

“Hey, snake-face! Where are you going in such a hurry?” Patton walked faster, clutching his books tightly to his chest as he was followed closely by a group of older students, his brother Roman included in the mass.

“Just get to the dungeons. Just get to the dungeons and it’ll be fine,” Patton whispered to himself, trembling a bit as the taunting voices of the older boys began to creep closer.

“He asked where you were going!” Roman shouted, and the comment was quickly followed by a chorus of hideous laughter. Patton’s heart leaped into his throat and he was about to break into a run when he was grabbed by the back of his robe and shoved against the wall, his head slamming against it with a sickening crack. He groaned, black dots dancing in front of his eyes. Through the haze, he could see that the boy holding him wasn’t his brother, but a 7th-year boy from Gryffindor.

“P-Please let me go, I need to get to potions,” Patton said hurriedly, keeping his eyes cast down and praying that the older boy would show him some mercy. Instead, all he got was a laugh and his feet being knocked out from under him. Patton saw Roman’s surprised face before a foot came flying towards him, and his head snapped back with the force of the kick, a loud crack sounding as his head smacked against the wall and his nose broke, blood flowing freely. Patton groaned in pain and curled up into a ball, tears welling up in his eyes as kicks and punches continued to come his way.

“Stop! Stop it, leave him alone!” someone shouted. The pain kept coming and Patton let out a quiet moan, tears dripping down his face and nose onto the floor. Roman was there and he wasn’t doing anything. Logan didn’t care. Virgil was too scared to help. Patton was alone. He was destined to be evil, to be a monster, to hurt people, and he was getting what he deserved. He cracked an eye open and saw Roman looking down at him, surprised, amused, even happy, as one of his friends kicked him again. Patton screamed and cried and tried to curl up tighter, hiding his face in his hands.

“Crucio!” another person said with glee, and Patton shrieked, eyes blowing wide with pain as his body jerked and twitched. Every atom felt as if it were on fire, burning his flesh away and rocketing through his veins like poison. He couldn’t even scream anymore, his mouth gaping open silently, beads of sweat on his forehead.

“I SAID STOP IT!” the person howled again, and Patton gasped in surprise as the pain was suddenly gone, and someone grabbed him by the collar and yanked him upwards. He screamed and flailed blindly at the person holding him, only to be dragged away and then clung to like a lifeline. Still sobbing and shaking in terror, Patton looked up to see Virgil looking down at him with a stricken face, trails of moisture that matched Patton’s already on his face. He glanced at the boys who had been kicking him, his breath hitching in surprise as he saw Logan repeatedly punching a guy he had pinned up against a wall, his eyes filled with blind rage.

“STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY BROTHER!” Logan roared, throwing one last hit before letting the poor student go, watching him run off in terror. Breathing heavily, Logan turned back to face Patton, who was clinging to Virgil and crying openly, his knuckles white from clenching his robes. Roman hung back as Logan knelt down on one knee and opened his arms up to their youngest brother, who sobbed and flung himself into Logan’s arms. Swallowing hard, he bowed his head in shame.

“T-Thank you! Thank you s-so much!” Patton wailed, his voice muffled since his face was buried in Logan’s shoulder. The Gryffindor held onto his brother tightly, his heart filled with regret as he saw the blood and tears smeared on the front of Patton’s robes. This was their fault.

“Don’t thank us, Pat. If we had just…accepted you in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. We could’ve protected you,” Logan mumbled into Patton’s hair, rocking slightly back and forth. Patton sniffled and nuzzled into the crook of Logan’s neck.

“N-No…i’s okay. I understand. Y-You don’t…you don’t have to pretend. Roman isn’t,” Patton said quietly, his voice sounding so broken. The three other brothers were silent, and Virgil glanced at Roman coldly, eyes looking his 14-year-old brother up and down judgingly.

“You told me you’d help him.”

“I-I know, but-”

“You promised me. You swore on your honor you’d try to accept him.”

“I know I did. I’m sorry! I didn’t know they were going to hurt him!” Roman said with his eyes clenched shut. “That’s no excuse, I know, there isn’t any, but I promise that I didn’t want to hurt Pat.” Patton’s shoulders trembled and he shook his head.

“I deserved it. It’s fine,” Patton muttered.

“No,” Virgil said, his voice sharp. “No, you didn’t. God damn it, Pat, why do you have to think like that?” Patton blinked and looked at his older brother, watching as he scrubbed frustrated tears out of his eyes. “Everyone….everyone thought I was going to be a Slytherin. I should’ve been there for you more. I should’ve d-done something,” Virgil choked out.

“We all should have done something. Pat, if this is anyone’s fault, it is ours. Can you forgive us? Them, at least?” Roman asked quietly, unable to meet the other boy’s eyes. Patton kept his head against Logan’s chest, dazed and confused at this sudden exchange of guilt and blame.

“I…I forgive you. I forgive all of you. It’s okay,” Patton said. Roman burst into tears and Virgil scooped Patton up into his arms, swooping him away from Logan and hugging him tightly as he spun around. Patton laughed for the first time in ages as he hung onto Virgil tightly, forehead pressed to his, eyes closed in content.

“W-We…We should take you to the infirmary, Patton. Can I take you?” Roman asked as Virgil set Patton down and ruffled his hair. Patton glanced at the other nervously, biting his lip and twisting the sleeve of his robes in his hands.

“Okay, Ro…” Patton said, holding out his hand for the other to take.