#Self hate

[support]

Everything okay?

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone. There are many support services that are here to help. For 24/7 peer support and other resources, message KokoBot on Tumblr.

If you are in the United States, please try:

National Suicide and Crisis Lifeline or dial 988 or (en Español)

The Trevor Project (LGBT crisis intervention) or dial 1-866-488-7386

Trans Lifeline or dial 1-877-565-8860 (en Español)

The National Domestic Violence Hotline or 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)

Rape Abuse & Incest National Network or 1-800-656-HOPE (4673)

S.A.F.E. Alternatives for Stopping Self Abuse or 1–800-DONT-CUT (366–8288)

National Eating Disorders Association

If you are outside the United States, visit IASP to find resources for your country.

For more resources, please visit our Counseling & Prevention Resources page for a list of services that may be able to help.

[youmatterlifeline]

[defire]

Love the last prompt! consider:

Living weapon whumpee who was raped by their handler expecting something similar from a new handler (who is caretaker.)

Okay, interesting :)

Living Weapon rescued after rape

Content: past rape, victim offers sexe for serices, shame, ptsd

"I can't--Please don't ask me to do that, I just, I just need some time to process--" Victim swallows. Rescuer--"Uhhh... yeah but if I don't clean that wound, you're gonna get an infection, you're shirt's stuck in it..." "Oh--oh that--oh, I'm sorry, I thought..." *Victim reddening*

"Can I have another sweatshirt?" "I'll get you a change of clothes pretty soon," "--no, I just wanted to cover up more."

Rescuer hugging victim tightly. Victim closing their eyes as Rescuer rubs their back. "You're beautiful. I know you never wanted to hurt anyone." "That's... that's not what I mean. It was... it was more than just a weapon. It was... multipurpose."

Victim waking up with nightmare, breathing hard and fast, rescuer hurries in and strokes whumpee's arm. Whumpee deliriously shouts "get the fuck off me! You promised! They told me I was safe now!"

"Please, I can help, just don't send me back. You won't regret it. I can sharpshoot, I can suck, I can bend over, whatever you want just--" "Holy fuck whumpee, slow down."

"Why don't you get I'm not going to hurt you?" "Because you touch me every time you're saying it!"

Rescuer thinking victim isn't grateful and feeling like their efforts are wasted, only to find victim crying alone saying they can't take not knowing anymore, what rescuer is going to ask for in return.

[wishing-for-deathx]

You know what’s selfish? Breaking someone to the point where they don’t live. Breaking them so bad that they cant be fixed anymore. When they think of life, it’s synonymous to agony. They just survive each day. It’s not selfish to want to end it. It’s liberation from suffering. It’s selfish to do this to someone repeatedly and ask them to stay.

Why should I stay when no ever did.

[jasmines-library]

Lazarus Rising

WHUMPTOBER DAY 27: Prompt ‘scars’

Fandom: Batfam

Summary: after an accident takes your life, your brothers manage to find a way to bring you back. But it leaves you with a set of prominent scars that you struggle to come to terms with. But your brothers are there to help you realise that you are beautiful just the way you are.

Warnings: Death, description of wounds and scars, self hate.

Word count: 1.6k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

It was a nasty accident.

An accident that had cost you your life. Your brothers had raced towards you, trying to haul the debris from the exploded building off of your body, but they were too late. You were dead. Still chest, blank stare, stone cold dead.

For a while, no one dared to move as Bruce cradled your bloody body. Not one of the boys attempted to hide the tears that rolled down their cheeks as you lay there devoid life in a pool of your own blood. The shrapnel had embedded itself if your back, and had sliced into other parts of your skin. You could see from the gash on your hand and on your cheek where you had tried to protect your face in vain.

The sight made Damian queasy and so he was the first to turn away, trying to burry the thought that he would never see the way you smiled with your eyes or simply hear your voice again.

Jason was the last to move. Long After Bruce had hauled your body away and his older brother had tried to pull him away gently by wrapping a strong arm around him. But all he could do was stare blankly at the crimson that stained the ground. It should have been him. He was the one who was supposed to be on patrol that night. But he bunked off and you took his place instead. His stomach knotted, tightening around him like a noose. He promised himself that he was going to find a way to bring you back.

And he did.

He didn’t want to tell his brothers what he was trying to do at first. But they caught on quickly after Jason was unable to hide the dark bags under his eyes any longer and they threatened to tell Bruce if he didn’t let up.

They were hesitant at first, but soon the four of them spent their free time delving into books and research. For a short while, their efforts seemed in vain and there were more frustrated sighs drifting across the room than words. But in one glorious moment, the words finally floated into Jason’s ears.

“The Lazarus pit.” He read from the screen what illuminated his small face in the dark. He had managed to find it after getting in contact with his mother and wracking his brain for something she had accidentally mentioned in passing. Talia was reluctant at first, but with Damian’s charm she was quick to give in. “My mother knows where it is. We can bring y/n back but…”

Tim, who had crowded round his little brother squinted. “But what?”

“She’s not going to be the same. The pit it-

It messes with your mind. And it might not work at all… there’s a time frame.”

Jason shook his head and pulled on his coat. “It’s better than nothing.”

~

The four of them carried your body gently towards the swirling green liquid. The pit was hidden in some sort of cave that had been dug out into some sort of lab.

“So this is it, huh?” Dick asked as they lay you down gently next to the pit. He could hardly bring himself to look at you. Your beauty was still obscured by the nasty gash that still hadn’t closed. He was so gentle as he manoeuvred your fragile body, as though just his fingers grazing along your cold skin would hurt you.

“Yeah.” Tim sighed.

“Keep your guard up. We don’t know how she’s going to react when she wakes up. She might be scared and confused.” Headed Damian who had practically recited his mother's words after committing them to memory.

There was little else said as they eased your body into the green liquid, watching as you floated just below the surface. It didn’t take long for the chemicals to take effect, stitching your skin back together and bringing more structure back to your bones and more life back to your skin.

Suddenly, you sat up with a gasp, flailing and splashing the substance of the edge of the pool as you dragged yourself out of it. Your clothes clung sticky to your skin. Your eyes were wide and didn’t settle on anything long before they were darting to the next thing and the next after that.

When Tim reached out to you your instincts kicked in, and you gripped his hand to flung him over your shoulder which caused him to let out a grunt as he collided with the stone.

Your mind was racing at a million miles an hour. You were scared. You didn’t know where you were or why every inch of your body was drenched in a dull but persistent ache.

“Y/n?”

You froze calming down for just one brief moment. You knew that voice and its gentle lilt. It was a voice you could picture a face with. Dark haired with stern eyes, but behind the facade was really a gentle boy with a soft spot for his little sister. You turned, tilting your head at the boy.

“Jason?”

~

You couldn’t bear to glance in the mirror anymore because they were all your gaze could settle on. Pale and spidering the scars crawled up your back and along your neck to your cheek. The pit had worked to some extent and although your mind was seemingly recovering and readjusting, the pit had failed to completely heal your skin, leaving a scar in its wake. Damian said it was something to do with the time scale. Something to do with the fact that the Lazarus put worked better on the dead the shorter they had passed.

You still couldn’t quite come to terms with that word. Dead. It sat in your mind like a weed. No matter how many times you plucked it, it always wormed its way back through the cracks.

For the first few weeks of being back at the manor, you spent a lot of your time trying to cover up the angry lines. The ones on your back were easy enough. You had just resorted to wearing a hoodie. Usually one of the boys’. They gave you a sense of comfort. But after a while, you began to miss wearing your own clothes. You missed being able to express yourself without it feeling wrong. So, there you were, standing in front of your full length mirror in your favorite top, staring at the scar.

There was a soft knock on the door before it peeled open, whining on its hinges and Jason saw you standing there. He couldn’t help the small grin that ebbed onto his lips.

You immediately tried to cover yourself. “Get out.”

“I-“ Jason didn’t want to move. He often feared that it he took his eyes off of you for too long then you would vanish again. Which meant that he was checking in on you much to your dismay. He was so proud of how far you had come in just a few short weeks. “You look beautiful, y/n.”

You recoiled. What? “Jason. Don’t look at them.”

You were about to pull on a hoodie when Damian’s voice peeped round the corner. He had grown impatient and set off with Tim to drag you to movie night. Dick went with them too, unable to shake his worry. Since you came back the four of them were constantly on edge, even if they didn’t care to admit it. “Is she coming or- whoa.”

Tim nearly squealed at the sight of you. “I thought I’d never see that top again.”

Your skin flushed as you sank down onto you bed.

“All of you. Out.”

“Why?” Damian implored.

“Because…I don’t like people looking at them. They’re disgusting.”

“Why the hell would you think that?” Jason was practically outraged at your words.

You couldn’t help it when your eyes brimmed with tears and your voice wavered. “Look at them, Jay!”

“I don’t see anything wrong with them.” Dick shrugged coming to sit next to you. “Do you?”

The rest of your brothers shook their heads.

You gave him a look.

Dick rolled up his top to reveal a long scar along his solar plexus. “Do you see anything wrong with this one?” He asked. Jason then pulled up the hem of his red top and shifted round on the mattress to show you the ones that littered his back. They were pinkish and resembled various different shapes. Or those?”

You shook your head. “No…it’s just. They’re everywhere.”

“So? They’re beautiful y/n. You’re beautiful. Does having a scar make Jason any less of a person that he was before?” Tim asked. You shook your head meekly. “Your scars don’t define you. No matter how much you think they do. You’re still the same gentle girl you were before.”

“Besides,” Damian chimed, “I think they’re really cool. Like lightning.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that thought. Your brothers always had a way of bringing light to a dark situation. It was just something that they did; they helped without thinking no matter the cost. You were glad to have them by your side, even if they did get a little annoying at times.

Although it took a little while, and a bucket-load of tears, your slowly began to embrace the scars. You began to express yourself in new ways that you hadn’t done before. In ways that brought a beaming grin to your face. And to your brothers. They were unbelievably proud and their hearts swelled. But it was one thing that you had learnt that really stuck out to you. That they loved you, just the way you were.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 26 ⛤ DAY 28 ->

Taglist:

@deans-spinster-witch

@senjoritanana

@amaryllis23

[depresso-espresso-5150]

I keep all of the pain inside because I'd rather let it destroy me than everyone else.

idk not me

[starlightsuicide]

Okay but the fact how Loona can realize her dad's habit with photos of himself and make sure to keep at least 1 pic safe was such a small detail that I'm still shook from realizing it.

(There's already another most I've reblogged about the whole topic of Blitz's pictures)

[hatred-rage-and-repression]

Deep down I wanna be worse because I deserve it... I don't wanna be happy, safe, or loved. They are such alienated feelings to me... I deserve to live a life full of misery, because I am evil.

[thetrevorproject]

[dddemigirl]

[enslavingyou]

Bitch, your SH scars are the hottest thing about you.

[battling-my-demons]

I feel like I was set up from the moment I was born. I was made to fail. I have nothing. Nothing good about me. No brains and not good looking and incredibly bad luck. I hate myself. Everything about me is worthless. I am worthless.

[lettersofencouragement-blog]

[webweabings]

MY GREATEST ENEMY IS NO ONE BUT MYSELF

“Adoration of the Mystic Lamb”, by Hubert van Eyck and Jan van Eyck (1432); // “Juda’s Kiss”, by Gustave Doré; // “Briseis Restored to Achilles in his Tent Discovers the Body of Patroculus”, Léon Cogniet (1815); // “Ophelia”, by John Everett Millais (1851)

[pumpumdemsugah]

You actually don't need to make another self-hating post, video, tweet, etc, about how you hate being a Black girl. Keep it for the group chat. This discussion isn't a spectator sport.

I've changed my mind, I do think you're responsible for the way you express your self hate when it can be about other people. Many of you have made social media more unbearable than it needs to be because you can't help talking about being a Black woman in the most pathetic humiliating way. This isn't a call for fake positivity, but to remember, other people see that shit. Including little Black girls and yourself.

No! I do not want to see another young Black woman coon out about how hard it is being a Black woman. There is talking about oppression and trying to mass trigger other Black women to spiral with you, and far too many young Black women online love to bond through self-loathing and pretend it's just their femininity journey. You're talking about being a Black woman like we're a biological stain. Sorry, you're dabbling in coonery luv ❤️ and I see outsiders using your words to talk about us like it's a biological fact

I do not want to be defined by another Black woman's self-loathing