#self-hatred
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self-destruction
#we forgive everything but ourselves#no one's been crueler than I've been to me#web weaving#web weave#on self-destruction#self-hatred#quotes#quote#words#fragments
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Pietro Maximoff x GN Reader
Request : *verbal request from my friend* Can I have a Pietroxreader where reader has a panic attack and he comforts him?
Type : Fluff, comfort
Relationship : Established dating
Summary : Pietro comforts reader having a panic attack after a bad day
Warnings : Panic attacks, self-hatred
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Today was a shitty day, you felt like everything was falling apart, like the sky was dark and the light was gone forever. Your body was giving up on you, you felt weak, and useless. Like you could never amount to anything, and everyone hated you. How could you do that to everyone, disappoint them again and again and again. Why did it have to be you, why was it always you...
Getting back to the compound from an unsuccessful mission you ignored everyone, your eyes fixed on the floor and went straight to your room. As soon as you enter your room, you sit on the floor by your bed and start sobbing. You couldn’t stop yourself, you were gone, and all the bad memories you ever had came back to your mind making you feel like the worse person ever.
Unknown to you, your boyfriend Pietro had seen that pain in your eyes and had followed you to your room. He was now knocking on your door.
“Y/N, are you okay? Can you let me in please darling.”He said worryingly behind your door.
When all he heard back were your sobs, he decided that was his queue to come in either way. He forced the door open quickly and when his eyes landed on you, sat on the floor, eyes red and clothes wet, his heart shattered at the sight. He ran to you and kneeled in front of you.
“Darling, darling please look at me what’s happening ?”You could hear the panic in his voice.
Realising how worried Pietro was for you, you felt like a burden, why couldn’t you just die in a corner and let the others be fine. You feel as if you’ve disappointed him again, being weak, crying after a simple failed mission. Suddenly breathing became harder, your eyes opened in pure panic as you could only take very short breaths. Pietro took you into his arms, holding you close to hus chest, and his heart. he closed his eyes as his arms were caressing your back softly trying to calm you down. But you were already in a bad place, at moments, you couldn’t breathe any more and you hoped you could suffocate right there, stop the pain.
“Darling, calm down, it’ll be okay darling, everything is gonna be okay”he whispered, kissing your head.
“I-I’m sorry”You managed to let out with a short breath.
“Don’t be sorry Y/N, it’s okay, I love you, everything is okay” he simply replied back placing more kisses on your head and forehead.
“B-but , I fucked it all up, I-I’m sorry” you sob. “You, you hate me don’t you” it wasn’t really a question.
“Nooo of course I don’t my love, no one hates you and you didn’t fuck up anything, nobody is to blame for the mission, it happens sometimes, it’s not your fault, okay?”He tried reassuring you again.
Your head on his chest, you now tried to focus on his heart beat.
“Okay?” He said again, lifting up your chin so you look at him.
You simply nod, not being able to talk anymore.
“You are a wonderful person and you don’t deserve any kind of pain and I’m so sorry you feel that way. I love you for who are, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You are not a failure or a disapointment, you’re my partner and I love you, lots of people do. I know everything feels hard and hopeless but I promise you my love, we’ll be alright.” He says softly.
He let you place your head back down on his chest, you close your eyes and count his heartbeats. You begin to calm down slowly, your breathing slows down and your sobs become soft cries.
“Thank you Pietro” You say with a broken voice.
“It’s normal darling”He answers.
“I love you”you say looking at him.
“I love you too” He whispers with loving eyes.
Slowly, you two get up and Pietro quickly fetch your pyjamas for you both to put on. You spend the rest of the night with him, cuddling in your bed, eating snacks and watching your favourite movies. Everything was gonna be okay.
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A/N: Everything is gonna be okay people, take care of yourselves, you are loved.
!Reminder that english is not my first language, be kind in the comments!
#Pietro maximoff x reader#pietro maximoff#fluff#panic attack#self-hatred#comfort#x reader#x gender neutral reader#everything is gonna be okay#Pietro maximoff x gn reader#mcu x reader
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𝔄 𝔓𝔞𝔩𝔢 ℌ𝔬𝔯𝔰𝔢 𝔑𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 - 𝔄𝔰 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔄𝔰 𝔐𝔶 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱
#A Pale Horse Named Death#And Hell Will Follow Me#As Black As My Heart#Release date:#June 14th#2011#Full-length#Genre:#Doom/Gothic Metal#Themes:#Depression#Nihilism#Self-hatred#usa
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anaroceit week - day two - liar liar
@anaroceitweek
prompt: theatre/mistake
relationship: romantic anaroceit
word count: 4.4k
(cw -> disordered eating, punishing oneself, hospitals, fainting, cursing, extreme self-hatred)
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Roman had a bad habit of equating his worth to his successes.
And his failures.
Though his dear boyfriends tried to be supportive, they could never be louder than Roman’s mind, the voices that taunted his ears from the inside. No matter where Roman hid, they would always be there. The only way to get rid of them would be to saw off his own head.
Wow. That was a macabre thought for 6am.
But laying awake in the dewy, calm blue hours of the morning was a typical occurrence for Roman. He often found himself unable to sleep very well, though his boyfriends’ sleep habits weren’t much better than his. The only difference was that Janus and Virgil tended to stay awake by choice.
Melatonin didn’t work anymore. It did at first, but now, no matter how many Roman took, he still found himself unable to sleep. His brain just refused to stop.
“I get that,” Virgil said one day, when Roman told him about it. “It’s hard to turn your mind off when you just need to get some rest. Wake me up next time that happens, okay? I can help you.”
Yeah, there was no way Roman was doing that and disrupting the little sleep that Virgil did manage to get. But despite this, he grinned and nodded eagerly. Because he was a disgusting, filthy liar.
Janus thought that he could always tell when Roman was lying. He prided himself on it vocally, which was something that Janus rarely did. He usually had a more quiet, refined confidence about him. Everything about him was understated and completely in control. He could make people do and feel whatever he wanted, as if people were ripples in water, and Janus was just running his fingers to change the currents. Roman lost track of how many times that Janus flustered him to the point where he felt like a pile of putty in Janus’ expert, gloved hands. But every time he thought about being in Janus’ clutches, the idea of being rendered helpless in Janus’ all-knowing eyes, made Roman’s heart flutter with adoration.
Yes, Janus thought that he could tell whenever Roman told a lie. Since he could tell just about everything else. But he was wrong. Over the years, Roman had learned how to bypass Janus, as expertly as a snake weaving through a bed of tall grass. It wasn’t like Roman liked lying to his boyfriends. He felt like the scum of the earth when he did it. But there was no other choice. He couldn’t stand to worry them, and Roman knew that if they found out about how cruelly his brain spoke to him, there would be trouble.
Especially from Virgil. The man was strong, wonderfully strong (though not as strong as himself, Roman liked to think), and he was very protective over his boyfriends. Roman and Janus both knew that Virgil had a tendency to spiral, his anxious thoughts getting the best of him. And that anxiety usually manifested into an overprotective nature similar to an overbearing mother. But Janus and Roman were the perfect boyfriends for Virgil in that regard, both of them being quite desperate for attention, fawning, and doting at any given moment.
Though all three of them weren’t perfectly functional in every way, they complimented each other beautifully. Roman didn’t know what he would do without Janus and Virgil on either side of him, holding him upright and being there for him when even his own mind wasn’t.
Which lead him to tonight.
“Oh, Roman, your performance tonight was spectacular,” Janus gushed, hugging his boyfriend close the moment Roman stepped out through the stage door.
Roman accepted the hug numbly, trying to hold back stubborn tears. How could Janus say that when everybody saw what he had done up there? Sure, perhaps it wasn’t an obvious mistake. Forgetting the words to a song for a second is an easy enough mistake to recover from. But Roman wouldn’t let himself forget. Not for the rest of the show, and not even after the curtains closed.
Whenever he closed his eyes, he just saw the moment replay as if it had only just happened. He had been standing before an audience of 500 people, all eyes on him as he stood under the spotlight, hyper-aware of how it practically baked his skin. The words he had been memorizing every spare second for the past month whizzed through his brain like a hummingbird flitting haphazardly from left to right to left again. Roman knew exactly what he was doing, and there were no excuses.
But when he’d opened his mouth, the words were moving just a little too fast in his brain. The lights were just a little too bright. Roman felt weak and faint, and as he looked around for Virgil and Janus in the audience, he made eye contact with both of them, frozen where he stood, desperate to just summon the words. He needed them. If he didn’t succeed, then what was all that rehearsal for? If he wasn’t perfect, then why did he even grace the beloved stage with his wretched presence?
He’d found the words eventually, of course. But the orchestra had to vamp for three measures. That was unheard of. And through his peripheral vision, Roman could sense the stares of his fellow castmates in the wings. Every single one of them knew that he had messed up, and Roman had needed to work so hard just to prove to them that he was worth being in the same room as them.
Now, all that work was for naught.
Deep down, Roman knew that it was unlikely that every single member of the cast saw Roman as a parasite who was beneath them. But every harsh joke they made, every narrowed stare and eye roll, made Roman believe that it was true, no matter what the actual situation was. The bad spoke a lot more than the good, in Roman’s opinion.
Roman could see that Janus was rubbing his back, and he could see Virgil’s lips moving, which insinuated that he was saying something. But his body felt fuzzy, like a blanket was covering it and keeping him from feeling outside movement with precision or accuracy. And his ears felt like they had been stuffed with cotton or pushed underwater, as Virgil’s words came out as messy, globbed up syllables.
But Roman nodded, hoping it was the right thing to do in response to whatever Virgil said. From the way Virgil beamed, Roman could tell that he had somehow, despite the odds, made a good choice, and Janus gently started to guide him out of the theater.
The cold air blowing outside honestly made Roman feel a little more human again. He could feel Janus’ hand on his back with a more solid sureness, and his brain was finally moving on from the endless flashback he had been enduring for what he assumed to be at least the last few minutes. But unfortunately, with this newfound freedom, his mind decided to move on to another loop.
You aren’t eating.
At first, Roman was a little confused. Why wouldn’t he eat? It was the end of a long show, and he was hungry. Besides, he was certain that Virgil and Janus had made him something at the house. They both loved cooking together and sharing their creations with Roman. Why would Roman deprive them of seeing his reaction to what they worked so hard to make for him?
But even with this reasoning, the demanding voice in his head stayed firm.
You’re not eating. You were awful out there. You need to make things right before you can have another bite of anything.
So that was that.
Roman wasn’t one to argue with himself for long. His gut was forceful, and it did whatever it pleased, no matter what all of Roman had to say about it. So when the three boyfriends got home and Janus offered Roman a steaming hot plate of fried rice, Roman played the tired card, rushing off and gulping down a large bottle of water before either of his boyfriends could hear his stomach growling.
—
Sleep was impossible in this state.
Even after popping four melatonin (technically, he was only supposed to take two), Roman found himself lying awake, his body wired and wracked with a strange sort of fear. As if he didn’t know who he really was. As if the person controlling his body’s movements wasn’t really him. It was scary, and this was Roman’s first time skipping a meal in a long time. What if something bad happened?
His stomach gurgled, over and over, as if taunting him. Telling him he couldn’t do this. He was going to get up and eat and be absolutely pathetic.
It was that thought, and that thought alone that kept Roman tethered to his bed, tossing and turning, and rendered unable to get a wink of sleep. By the time the next morning rolled around, Roman started to feel lightheaded from hunger and exhaustion, but in a way, it sort of felt good. When Roman realized this, he felt sick, despising himself for thinking such a wicked thing. How was destroying his body and his habits good in any capacity?
It wasn’t good, but Roman walked past the kitchen, not even stopping for a drink of water. It wasn’t good, but Roman walked out of the door to go for his run without looking back. He’d never run hungry before, but that didn’t stop Roman from pushing himself to the limits, pushing through the air with such speed that it started to sting his skin.
And for a moment, Roman felt like he was flying. Maybe he was. The area around him was hazy, and that was when Roman realized that he’d forgotten to put his contacts on. Oh, well. He didn’t deserve pretty scenery anyway.
Roman’s stomach twisted as he ran and ran, his muscles trembling with fatigue by the time he made it back to the house. By now, he knew that Janus and Virgil were usually awake, so he had to go about this carefully.
“Hey, Ro, you sleep well?” Virgil asked, approaching Roman as he came in through the door, pressing an ever-gentle kiss to his collarbone.
“Yep, I slept great!”
Roman fucking hated himself when his voice cracked. But miraculously, Virgil didn’t seem suspicious.
“Jan’s making protein waffles. You’re gonna need a lot of strength for today.”
Roman nodded. Not only did he have a show tonight, but he also was planning on helping his brother move into his new apartment.
But when Roman thought of bringing a waffle to his lips, of ingesting it and having it sit in his stomach, he felt disgusting. That would remove all the progress of the previous night. It would make it all for nothing. He had to keep this going and see how long he could hold out. If he couldn’t even last one full day, then was he really worth anything?
“Sorry, I’d better get going early,” he said, ruffling Virgil’s hair and going into the kitchen to hug Janus. “Remus will want me there bright and early so we can finish unloading before call time. I’ll eat with him.”
Clearly, miracles were possible, because Janus believed Roman’s bold-faced lie. Remus was probably still asleep right now, and would be for the next two hours. So when Roman pulled his hair up into a bun and slid on his sneakers, guilt clawed at his chest as he thought about his two oblivious boyfriends, not knowing that Roman was only leaving to avoid the food that was being made at the house.
Roman didn’t even take the car. He ran. His lungs burned, and the flying feeling wasn’t as exciting this time. Now, it felt more scary. It felt like Roman didn’t have any control over his limbs, and being unable to feel the ground beneath him, Roman worried that he might hurt himself. But he pressed on. He had to be strong enough. It was just running. It was nothing bad or impossible. He did this every single morning.
Remus’ apartment was on the other side of town, so it took half an hour for Roman to run all the way there, even when he refused to rest or take any breaks. By the time Roman made it to the complex, his heart felt like it would explode out of its chest, and his legs felt like they were still running, even when they weren’t moving anymore. Shakily, Roman stumbled over to the nearest bench, sitting down and finally letting himself relax.
“Ro! Hello?? Roman? Can you hear me?? C’mon, don’t pretend to be asleep just to ignore me, that’s my thing!”
Roman blinked awake, not even realizing he had fallen asleep until he noticed how he was lying down on the bench, his face and stomach facing upwards. Remus’ gray-green eyes, glinting with mischief, were staring down at him.
“What’re you up to, Sleeping Beauty?” Remus teased. “Why are you here so early?”
“I just felt like surprising you?” Roman lied weakly.
Remus quirked his eyebrow, clearly doubtful, but he didn’t say anything more about it, hauling Roman to his feet and opening the trunk of his rusty old pickup truck.
“It’s not a lot of boxes, but it’s enough to be a pain in the ass,” Remus reported. “I’m glad you’re here. If I had to move all these all by myself, I’d go insane.”
Roman could still feel his muscles quivering, but he forced a smile and nodded. It was just a bunch of boxes. How hard could it be?
The sun was blazing hot, and the sweat dripping down Roman’s body started to cling and stink. Annoyed with himself, Roman realized that he had forgotten to wear deodorant. At least he was in his brother’s company. As sweaty as Roman smelled, it was highly likely that Remus stunk even worse. Every so often, Roman had to pause, put down the box he was holding, and wipe his palms and forehead with his shirt, just to keep himself from losing his grip on any of Remus’ possessions.
And as Roman took each trip to the apartment lobby, going up the elevator to the ninth floor and then going back down and towards the pickup truck again, each box started to feel heavier and heavier. Roman knew he was decently strong. He could lift both of his boyfriends, and usually, he was the one in charge of moving heavy things around in the house.
But today, everything was taking more and more effort. Regardless of the horror pooling in Roman’s chest, he kept going. He had to convince Remus that everything was okay, and he had to convince himself that everything was okay. He could survive without food. Lots of people did it. Once Roman couldn’t hold out anymore, he would tap out. But he couldn’t stop playing this twisted game with himself. A test of survival. Only the strongest could win, and Roman intended on winning.
Finally, the twins were nearing the end of the unloading process. Roman picked up the third-to-last box, and started to walk, sighing with relief as the cold, air-conditioned air hit him. He started to feel strange and fuzzy as he got off the elevator, walking down the plush, carpeted hallway to get to Remus’ apartment. His hands were numb, and he found that he couldn’t control how they held onto the box. And then, the box started sinking.
Even though the apartment was cool, Roman started to feel very, very hot. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his shirt again, and set down the box, leaning against it and struggling to catch his breath. But as he tried to get up, Roman realized that he couldn’t. Every limb felt like it was being pushed down by a metal blanket, too heavy for him to effectively resist against. And his mind soon grew as numb as his hands as his vision blurred, and it was harder to hear.
The last noise Roman recalled was the beeping of the elevator climbing up and down floors. And then, he closed his eyes. Just to rest them.
Just to rest them.
—
The first noise Roman recalled upon waking up was a sound that made Roman want to curl up under the covers and hide once again.
It was the unmistakable sound of Virgil sobbing into his hands.
Blinking, Roman tried to get a feel for where he was. Everything was bright and cold and strange. And white. Strikingly white.
“Am I dead?” Roman asked himself, and he heard laughter beside him.
Snapping his head as quickly as he could, Roman found himself face to face with a laughing Janus and a teary-eyed Virgil. Remus was talking to a tall woman wearing a white coat. Roman wondered what they were talking about.
“You’re not dead, you silly goose,” Janus said affectionately, “But you almost were. Do you know what’s going on right now, Ro?”
“How should I?” Roman asked dumbly. “I just woke up.
Virgil took a deep, shuddering breath, and then, he started to explain.
“You passed out. Right in the middle of the hallway. Remus freaked out and tried to wake you up, but nothing was working. So he called 911, and, well, I guess we’re all here now. The doctors aren’t sure what happened. One thinks it’s heatstroke, while the other thinks it’s something to do with malnutrition, but-”
Fear struck through Roman’s heart, making him shudder from top to bottom.
“It was probably heatstroke,” he interjected abruptly, his words falling on top of each other in their haste. “It was hot outside, and I was dumb. I didn’t bring enough water.”
“Couldn’t you have gotten some while you were eating with Remus?” Virgil whispered. “Why didn’t you?”
Because he didn’t eat with Remus.
Unfortunately, Remus heard this piece of the conversation and wandered over towards the bed Roman was propped up in, the woman in the coat trailing behind.
“What’s he talking about?” Remus asked with a slight scoff. “We haven’t eaten together since we graduated. You’re always whining about how messy I am.”
“What?”
Janus’ eyes widened, and he turned to face Roman with intense ferocity.
“You didn’t eat with Remus today? Then- why did you say you would?”
Roman scrambled to come up with an acceptable response.
“It just slipped my mind! I fell asleep and-”
“You fell asleep?” Virgil whispered. “But you told me you slept really well last night.”
“Sometimes- a…a prince needs-...more beauty rest…?”
The desperation in Roman’s voice was giving him away. Virgil let out a tearful scoff and took a few steps away from the bed.
“I can’t even look at you right now,” Virgil muttered, his teeth grit.
“I just don’t understand!” Janus outburst, “Why did you lie to us, Roman? What the hell is this whole story about? You leave at seven in the morning, and you don’t even eat with Remus?”
“You left at seven?” Remus asked, his eyes widening. “I didn’t get there until noon! I told you I would be there at noon at the earliest. Why did you-”
Roman hadn’t even realized that he had been asleep on the bench for that long.
“Another lie!” Janus exclaimed with a bitter laugh. “Another. Lie. Roman, you’d better come clean and do it now. Unless you just want me to assume the worst, which is getting easier and easier to do with each passing second.”
Something broke inside Roman’s mind like a dam. Janus had set him off.
“Oh, you want the truth?” Roman asked with a loaded laugh that made Janus shudder. “I’ll tell you the truth.”
Immediately, Janus intertwined his fingers with Virgil’s, squeezing his lover’s hand gently. Roman’s heart ached for both of them, but he also felt a strange sort of reverie. He didn’t regret a single thing he’d done, except pass out in front of Remus. If he’d only waited until he was out of sight to let his body give out, then maybe he would have been able to hold on for a little longer. Maybe he would have been able to get closer to winning the game, and finally making up for how much of a failure he was.
“I didn’t want your waffles,” Roman said, his words clipped and almost hostile. “I didn’t want to eat anything. I needed…I needed to prove myself. Last night can never happen again. I need more discipline. I need to be more successful.”
“But Roman, you fell asleep before you could even have dinner last night,” Janus said. “Why would you go for even longer without eating?”
“Because I have to!” Roman shouted, starting to laugh. Suddenly, all of this felt very funny. “I have to beat this game! If I do, then I’ll get forgiven! I won’t have to think about what happened last night anymore because I’ll know I’m strong! Come on. You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it. Pushing yourself to the limit to see how far you can go. Don’t treat me like I’m some sick freak just because I’m stronger than all of you combined!”
“Roman, you sound insane,” Virgil whispered, his voice wavering. “Did you even have lunch yesterday?”
“A light brunch,” Roman mumbled. “It was all we had time for before rehearsal.”
“Great,” Janus said, cutting through the awkward silence that had been created as a result of Roman’s gut-wrenching answer. “You’ve been starving yourself for almost an entire day because- you’re playing a game with yourself? How can you say all this and then expect me not to think you’re going crazy?”
“All because you messed up a little line in your little play?” Virgil added, his voice still quiet. “Why are you killing yourself because of one mistake?”
“Because I had no excuse!” Roman cried out. “I worked for weeks on that show. I made sure everything was perfect right down to the letter, and on the one day where it mattered more than anything, I messed up. It was pathetic.”
“It was not pathetic,” Janus insisted. “It was human. If you’re starving yourself over making such a small mistake onstage, how do you handle it when you fuck up big time?? How long have you been hiding this game from us??”
“This is my first time with the eating thing,” Roman mumbled, his face burning with indignation. He hated being talked down to like he was a child. “Usually, I take away other things. I go on my run barefoot. I don’t let myself drink water during rehearsal. You don’t get it because you’re perfect, but I need these games. I need to win to feel like I’m worth…something.”
“If I may interject…”
The woman in the coat showed Roman her nametag. It read Dr. Andy. Roman wondered if Andy was her first name or her last name, but he thought it best not to ask at this moment.
“It sounds like you have some obsessive compulsions,” Dr. Andy said softly, her voice carrying not a hint of judgment. “You seem to feel a need to punish yourself whenever you make a mistake. Is that correct?”
“That’s what I just said,” Roman muttered, rolling his eyes with what he knew was the utmost immaturity. He was too tired to care.
“Well, yes,” Dr. Andy continued, “And these games, as you describe them, all risk your physical wellbeing. When did you start doing this?”
“I don’t remember a time when I didn’t,” Roman said, keeping his gaze fixed on one of the metal rods below the hospital bed. “My earliest memory was tearing up all my shirts when I get yelled at by my mom for…I don’t even know what for.”
“She thought you were just throwing a temper tantrum,” Remus whispered. “So did I.”
“But it wasn’t,” Dr. Andy said. “It was a ritual. You put yourself through these things because of some subconscious superstition buried in your complicated, obscure mind. A lot of people have this problem, more than you know. Not all eating disorders come from body image issues.”
“Hold on, this isn’t an eating disorder,” Roman interrupted, sitting up in the bed. “I skipped two meals. That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Well, the way you snuck around and lied about all of this suggests that you’ve done this sort of thing before, even if you say you haven’t,” Dr. Andy explained. “Perhaps you blocked it out of your memory in childhood. Or you did it during college without realizing it. These things can build up into something dangerous if you don’t put a stop to it while it’s still growing.”
“Whatever,” Roman scoffed, “It wasn’t dangerous. I just fell asleep for a few minutes because it was hot out.”
“Roman…” Remus spoke gravely, which was very atypical of him. “You were asleep for two days.”
Two days. Two days??
“You mean I missed yesterday’s show??” Roman demanded, “Why didn’t you wake me up?? Why didn’t anybody-”
“You think we didn’t try that?” Janus asked. “This is a medical emergency, Ro. Even if we did manage to wake you up, I would not feel comfortable sending you onstage in this state. Your blood sugar’s low, you’re weak. You know you can’t do this sort of thing in your condition.”
Roman stopped speaking. He stopped fighting. It was four versus one, and frankly, Roman was too tired to keep retaliating and battling. He just let the words wash over him.
Worried.
Terrified.
Therapist.
Treatment.
Supplements.
Monitor.
Watch.
Meal Plan.
Roman wanted to die. Why did Remus have to call 911? Why didn’t he just leave Roman in the hallway??
“Roman, baby, please don’t cry,” Virgil whispered.
“What are you talking about?” Roman asked, bringing a hand to his face. “I’m not-”
A fat teardrop splashed onto Roman’s fingernail, proving him wrong.
“Darling…” Janus’ previously stern voice gave way for something much more nurturing as he held Roman in his arms, cradling the man back and forth awkwardly. “We’re going to work on this. All three of us are going to help you, Roman. We don’t want to see you in pain. We don’t want to see you being punished, even if you think you deserve it. We want to help. We all…just want to help. All you have to do is let us.”
“Okay…” Roman whispered, and as Virgil hugged him from his other side, he finally let himself sob. “Okay.”
#anaroceit week#anaroceit week 2023#sanders sides#thomas sanders#tss#roman sanders#virgil sanders#janus sanders#anaroceit#roceit#prinxiety#anxceit#ez's writing#sanders sides fic#sanders sides fanfiction#disordered eating#hospitals#fainting#cursing#self-hatred
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Rain's LU Febuwhump: Day 9
Bees: Wind
Warnings: Bee stings, self-hatred
Art
Wind was bored. Wild and Hyrule had run off without him, Four and Time were busy, Twilight had disappeared, Sky and Warriors were resting after their injuries in the most recent monster fight, and Legend was snapping at anyone who tried to talk to him.
So Wind decided to go for a walk.
The youngest Link trampled through the forest, swinging his sword and singing sea shanties obnoxiously. If some dumb monsters heard him, at least they’d give him something to do.
“What will we do with a drunken sailor, what will we do with a drunken sailor.”
He his voice hit high and low notes, like he was trying to win an award for the worst musical performance.
“What will we do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning!”
Wind wasn’t sure how far away camp was now, but he didn’t really feel like going back yet.
“Way hay and up she rises, way hay and up she rises, way hay and up she rises- ooh.”
The boy stopped and looked up the tree. Hanging off one of the branches was a strange kind circular thing, and lots of bugs buzzed around it.
Curious, Wind picked up a small rock and aimed high. He hit the thing straight in the middle and cheered.
Wind quieted down. The buzzing was louder. He yelped as the bugs surrounded him, sounding angry.
One flew down and landed on his arm, the spot stinging. Wind flicked it off and inspected the sting. He was distracted by a similar feeling on his another arm.
The bugs began to attack.
Wind yelled out as he ran, calling for help from the weird little creatures. They continued to sting him, his arms legs and face, until he finally seemed to have run far enough away from their nest thing.
Once Wind was sure they had stopped pursuing him, he looked down at his arms and legs and the sting began to kick in.
“Ow, ow, ow.” He whimpered. Most of the bugs had left little pricks in his arms and legs, so he began to painstakingly pull them out.
There wasn’t very many, maybe ten or so, but they still hurt. Wind suddenly thought to look around, and he realised he didn’t know where he was.
“Well shit.” The boy voiced out loud. He’d also managed to loose his sword, so the other heroes wouldn’t be very happy with him.
Still out of breath from running, the sailor decided to rest for a moment before going to look for his brothers. Unfortunately when he went to get up, he was struck by a sudden wave of nausea that made him sink right back down.
Wind groaned. The bugs must of been venomous. Or poisonous. He couldn’t really remember the difference. All that mattered was he was sore, his head hurt, he felt ready to be sick, and he didn’t know where the others were.
Wind mentally scolded himself. No wonder the others thought of him as a burden. To them he was a kid who got lost and injured all the time. His Gran would call him an albatross, slowing them all down.
Wind hated those damn bugs.
#fan fiction#linked universe#lu#wind#lu wind#febuwhump#febuwhump2024#febuwhumpday9#bees#bee stings#self-hatred#Rain's LU Febuwhump
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Right repentance and humility are never about self-hatred, but a recognition that we are not living as God created us; our sin damages and distorts us, it warps our understanding, and it hurts the way we relate to our God and his world. Repentance is always unto life, not death. It is a turning around, away from self-harm and toward our healing God. That is why it is linked to resurrection, which, according to Paul, points to the dawning of a new creation (2 Cor. 5:17).
Kelly Kapic , You’re Only Human, 26
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I wish someone would just kill me.
#venting#ranting#self-hatred#self-loathing#anxiety#depression#suicide#suicidal thoughts#mental illness
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As she thought of it all she hated herself. Over and over again she had told herself that she had so mismanaged the latter years of her life that it was impossible for her not to hate herself.
Anthony Trollope, from Can You Forgive Her?
#self-hatred#i'm a mess#ruined my life#self-blame#self reproach#hard on yourself#fuckup#the wasted years#quotes#lit#words#excerpts#quote#literature#classics#personal#anthony trollope#can you forgive her?
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My anxiety and self-hatred is too much for me right now. I’ve already taken my prn. I just want to hide and never come out.
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Joel Miller x Teen!GN Reader
AFAB Reader
Request : *verbal request from my friend* Can I have a Joel Miller fic of Reader coming out to Joel as Trans after they get attacked? Platonic/Parental relationship !
Type : Comfort
Relationship : Platonic/Parental
Summary : While on the road to get to Tommy, Joel and Reader get attacked, they get out just fine but Reader is exhausted, which leads to Reader coming out as trans and explaining that they wear a binder
Warnings : self-hatred, internalized transphobia, abusive wear of binder (BE SAFE MY LOVELY PEOPLE), coming-out, violence, swear words
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You and Joel were still looking for Tommy and had stopped in a town to get some more food and supplies. While wandering in the lonely streets, you had suddenly heard people talking just across the street. Three raiders were coming your way. It took only a second for Joel to notice them as well.
“Fuck! Run Y/N, Run” Joel suddenly whispered/screamed.
“Fucking hell Joel ! Fuck!” You said, startled.
You did as asked and ran to safety in a nearby house. Joel though, quickly hid behind an old car and took the raiders by surprise, killing one from a bullet before going to fight the other two with a knife, whom ran towards him. While Joel was fighting them the best he could, and you were hiding, you quickly realised he was gonna need help seing he had managed to kill another one but the last was putting up a great fight. Taking a deep breath, already tucking at your binder, you opened the back door of the house and ran as fast as you could to where Joel had parked the car, you knew he had extra shotguns in there, though he never let you use them.
Running as fast as you could, it took you a few minutes to get to the car, you took a shotgun he had hidden in the trunk, loaded it, took bullets with you and got ready to run again. Your ribcage was already killing you, ‘now is not the time to take my binder off’, you thought. Even out of breath you got back to running. You tripped a few times, your mind dizzy from the pain and the lack of air. You manage to get back to Joel whom was struggling, stuck under the last raider alive, He put all his strength into stopping the knife that was currently threatening to stab his throat.
Once you got a few meters away from the scene, you stopped and lifted the shot gun. Your vision was blurry but you had to do it, you had to help Joel. Gathering all the strength you had left and taking one last short breath, you shot the raider in the arm, hurting him just enough so that Joel could get back on top of him, steal his knife and cut his throat.
But your brain had reached its limits, you fell to the ground, desperately tucking your binder in a last desperate attempt at breathing,you just needed a little more air. Joel, instantly worried about you, ran to your side and picked up your head, laying it on his legs.
“Are you okay?! Fuck Y/N are you hurt!?” Joel asked you in a grave voice.
“Hm Hm, yeah, I’m fine, I just need to catch my breath” You whispered, your eyes were closed. You were focused on trying to breathe through your stomach.
“Y/N look at me, you don’t seem fine”Joel said. You could sense the panic in his voice although it was steady.
“I- I ... I can’t breathe, give me a minute please”You said, your voice cracking up with each word.
“Why? Why Y/N ? let me see”With his words Joel went to lift up your shirt but you quickly stopped him, your eyes now open and looking right at him.
“NO! No... Please, Joel, Don’t...”You struggled to breathe. “Don’t look.”
“Y/N please, I need to know what’s wrong.”
Your head was spinning, your eyes were in his. Not knowing what was happening anymore, you decided to tell him. You knew you would have to say it someday, well today was the day, right there, hardly breathing in his arms.
“I’m just, I’m... I’m wearing a binder Joel...” You waited but he didn’t say anything, of course he didn’t understand what you meant. “I’m trans, Joel. I’m wearing a binder, to compress my chest.”
“Okay”He simply said.
“Yeah, just give me a few minutes”You repeated, very nervous.
You and Joel stayed like that, your head on his lap, in complete silence for a few minutes. His gaze alternated between you and the streets, checking for any danger. Yours was fixed on him, still waiting for him to say something, anything. Finally, after what felt like forever, you breath steadied and your head stopped spinning.
“I’m sorry”You said suddenly.
“For what?”Joel replied.
“For what I said, for fainting, for who I am...”You started crying.
“Hey, it’s okay kid. I can’t force you take off that thing. It seems important to you” Joel assumed respectfully.
“It is, it really is” You quickly noted.
“And if it stops your breathing obviously it’s gonna make you faint,it’s fine,just be careful, you won’t have to save my ass next time hopefully.” He laughed a bit at the end. “And never apologise for who you are kid, you do you, I respect that”
“But, But it’s not normal, I’m not normal Joel.. I-I hate myself and I hate my body, and I hate how I have to wear this binder to feel like myself while it kills me slowly and put us in danger. Fuck, I’m so sorry Joel”You are left sobbing on his lap, turning to hide your face.
Joel lifted you and hugged you tightly. One of his hand in your hair caressing it to sooth you.
“shhh, it’s okay, you’re just a kid you’ll be fine, we’ll be fine. You are you and it’s all that matters. I am not mad at you. I just want you to know I see you as you and nothing else, this thing or not I don’t care. What I care about is you, and I'm sure if your chest really bothers you we can find a doctor that can do something about it. It’s okay kid” He declared.
“Thank you, thank you so much Joel” You continued crying, but were relieved.
“It’s okay, now let’s get going, it’s not safe to stay out there”He reminded you.
Eventually Joel let go off you and helped you get up. He smiled softly at you before taking the shotgun and walking back the car. You had had enough action for today.
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!Reminder that english is not my first language, be kind in the comments!
#joel miller#pedro pascal#joel miller x reader#the last of us#the last of us x reader#coming-out fic#self-hatred#internalized transphobia#comfort#dad!joel miller#teen!reader#be safe with binders#yes even in the apocalypse#x gender neutral reader#afab reader#x reader
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Nah mate, having made self-destructive behavior and self-hatred my default response and state ever since I was a kid has truthfully fucked me up for life. Like, therapy has helped me to be capable of getting out of this infernal cycle and staying out for months, but I always fall and get stuck for weeks on it. Now, after almost a month of actively fucking myself over, I'm having to get my shit together, and I hate it here. Why?!?
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𝔄 𝔓𝔞𝔩𝔢 ℌ𝔬𝔯𝔰𝔢 𝔑𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 - 𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 ℭ𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔰 𝔇𝔢𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔘𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔜𝔬𝔲
#A Pale Horse Named Death#And Hell Will Follow Me#When Crows Descend Upon You#Release date:#June 14th#2011#Full-length#Genre:#Doom/Gothic Metal#Themes:#Depression#Nihilism#Self-hatred#usa
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Where's that post about if you think everybody hates you, you should eat, and if you hate everybody, you should sleep? (Or something like that.) I think it was a screencap?
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While self-hatred appears productive, it never is. It leaves our relationships fractured, our eyes on ourselves, and draws us no closer to holiness. We need to fall before God in repentance and cry out for his help. As we do, the Spirit will convict us to move towards those we hurt to repair our relationships. This is true repentance, the “repentance that leads to life” (Acts 11:18).
Lara d’Entremont
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Everything’s my fault. Everything’s my fault. Everything’s my fault. Everything’s my fault. Everything’s my fault. Everything’s my fault. Everything’s my fault. Everything’s my fault.
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Went to one of my favorite cafes and had a good time with Owen for the first time in like 5 billion years and boy howdy am I paying the price.
#crushing all-encompassing guilt#feelings of inadequacy#self-hatred#etc etc#i'm gonna go play dirge so i can feel something else#vent
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