#tw; anxiety

[ajokeformur-ray]

GOOD personal news!!!! (I am Proud™️ of myself)!!!!!

So, okay. I am slightly hesitant to share this in case it's only temporary, but @darklylucid very kindly told me to share it because it's good news and it's something to be proud of!!!❤️

TW; talks of negative anti-depressant side effects and me being irresponsible with prescribed medication, mentions of nausea and bad periods, mentions of health anxieties such as being sick as a result of medications and self-starvation (it's all because meds made me feel so sick I couldn't eat etc.), talks and discussions of stress, anxiety, depression and cognitive behavioural therapy, talks of doctors visits, one mention of covid boosters and bad side effects from that, one mention of passive suicidal ideation, this is a positive post but please read with caution if anything in this tw paragraph may upset or offend you!

I started therapy for my stress and severe anxiety five weeks ago. When I started, my anxiety and depression scores were both at 21/21. I was, essentially, a walking anxiety attack experiencing passive suicidal ideation.

Today, two weeks after uni officially started and five weeks after starting therapy, I scored 12/21 for both anixety and depression for the third week in a row, meaning both have improved to being moderate without medication!!!

(We all remember the absolute fear surrounding that fiasco and I still say medication wasn't the right treatment plan for me. I do have a prescription but I never picked it up and I won't pick it up because of how bad the physical side effects were. The nausea got so bad I was actively starving myself for seven weeks because I couldn't eat anything, while in the middle of end of year assignments and my job pulling me in for overtime constantly. My health anxiety, generalised anxiety and lifestyle couldn't sustain it. Everyone told me to "give it time", but after seven weeks of the worst periods I've ever had in my life and of constant nausea, I couldn't take it anymore so I quit my medication cold turkey without consulting my doctor. The medication was hurting me and not even working; I felt worse physically and mentally and my anxiety was still there, except I also felt like a zombie. I was offered a different medication but I never picked up the prescription for it out of fear that this would continue, since all SSRIs have the same side effects. I have told my therapist this and though she doesn't know any details beyond "I don't want to take it", she supports my decision. A week after I stopped my medication, my periods returned to normal and the nausea disappeared, my appetite came back and I felt better. I refuse to try again and have decided to focus on my therapy as the treatment plan. Medication isn't right for me and that's okay.)

I don't know if this improvement in my anxiety and depression is because of the therapy or because I now wake up at 3am to study before I go to work, which means that I study when I am fresh and well-rested, go to work, then come home and only have to relax, which means more free time. This decreases my stress, which lowers my anxiety and therefore improves my depression (my anxiety was so severe it caused the depression; they are not two separate conditions in my case), and means I can eat and sleep better and more.

The lifestyle switch and therapy both started at the same time, so I can't say for sure which has led to the improvement in my mental well-being, but I find myself not caring all that much. I am healing, I am doing well, I have had one anxiety attack in the last month, and that's... the news I wanted to share. My hair is gorgeous, I am eating and sleeping well, I am happier, healthier, I am not behind in uni, therapy is helping me... I'm not perfect, that would mean I don't exist, but I am healing and in a good place right now. I'm not sure if this is temporary, since uni has just started and I won't know until Christmas since that's when they throw us in at the deep end with the syllabus, but I still wanted to share this news.

I didn't think I could handle therapy, uni and my job at the same time, let alone looking for work experience in the mental health sector, but here I am, doing what I thought I couldn't, and dare I say it... I'm happy. I caught myself smiling while brushing my hair this morning, and apart from a few weeks ago when the covid booster gave me chest pains for a week, I can't remember the last time I had a tight chest due to stress and/or anxiety.

I can't thank you all enough for your friendships, encouragement, love, support, comments, asks... you've all helped me so so much, you do help me, and now I'm feeling better, I'm going to be looking at focusing on writing again. Especially since I'm not sure if this is temporary or not - but I feel hopeful for the future and for myself, for the first time in... a decade or so. I think I'm gonna be okay and right now, at least, I'm proud of myself.❤️

[ssolessurvivor]

✘ from Nyra

touch Logan's scars - always accepting! - @incissam

Logan still didn't know if he'd ever tell her. While they'd been together intimately before or in various stages of undress, something about today was different. Even when she'd caught him changing, they'd simply gravitated towards one another in a way that seemed normal. His sweet Nyra wandered over and let a hand come to touch his chest, where the scars ended.

Just as she'd taken her hand away, Logan stopped her: placed both his hands over her own to his chest. Silently saying: it's ok.

Yet even as he allows his head to tilt down, to watch her fingers trace the ugly raised lines once his hands had fallen to his sides, he allows himself a curiosity. Would he ever tell her unless she asks? Sure, she'd seen his little shrine on the bookshelf of his crew and the time on Mimas, but...she hadn't said anything just yet. Her hand shifts to his collarbone but he still gazes at the smoothness of her skin, the thinness of her wrist and flowing into her forearm.

Maybe...today would be...it. Was he ready for that? Surely if he loves her, he would be.

[decrheart]

@seilas x

A rare eye roll at his friend's last comment about owing him. He knew it was a big ask but it wasn't like they weren't always there for each other. Each of them in their own ways, "Sure, Silas..." Whatever made his friend feel better.

"Why don't you two talk it out? Maybe you two can work together?" Shrugged, he knew of the family dynamics were less than ideal. He could relate to some of it. His older brother, Jaxon, is bound to take over the family business but he knows Jaxon's not the right fit for it. However, he's always been disinterested in the family business, it was a tough call he wasn't willing to make just yet. Poked his tongue at his friend, "Ha ha..." Depletedly retorted.

"If that's what it takes, I'll do what I have to, I guess... Our families might have similar upbringings, but... I refuse to do that to my siblings. They deserve to be a kid and to know what fun is. I want them... to have... what I didn't. Okay?" Despite everything he's been through, it was amazing how he continued to keep his spirits up, not just for himself but for others too.

Blinked at the touch of his friend, shoulders tensed, hands began to shake, "I c a n ' t..." Anxiously enunciated, huffed out. It wasn't unusual for him to have a panic attack but it was rare to let someone else see him have one, "What if everything goes wrong? What if they all find out?" He knew Evie would discover them in a second but he was fine with that, he never hid anything from her even if he tried. She was his best friend and sister. "I'm already a failure in their— ohhh nooo, Jaxon. He's gonna be such a jerk too!" He can't believe he thought he was ready for this. "Maybe we can go back?" Not like he'd actually take up on that idea of his.

[shiroi---kumo]

🎶!!

Music of the Clouds || Accepting

CG5 - Vibrant Eyes

I cannot begin to tell you much I'm grinning that you pulled this song with all that's going on between Kumo and Zelda with the whole lying and trying to protect her and the not wanting her to know about the Demon Swordsman thing.

So this song hits A LOT about his time in Gaudium when he was got forced into a "deal" he never agreed to.

Motioning to that section of the drabble:

On top of the torturous environment that Kumo lived in, he was also put in a system that he refers to as his debt. Kumo refers to it as a debt because The Earl (Chaos) very often called it as such and often referred to the time he was absent (when he tried to run again) as "the debt you've collected, Little Cloud." It's referred to as something Kumo has to "pay". Sometimes he pays the twenty with his own life and sometimes it's others.

He never got to choose.

And sometimes he was made to take those lives himself - therefore the rise of the Demon Swordsman - Lord Makenshi - Wonderland's White Devil. Kumo would get boxed in a position where either he did it and made it quick and mostly painless OR whomever he was with (because he wasn't allowed to leave the castle alone) would be the one who struck those souls down and it was normally Herba - who loved to play with and torture her victims. So it was either torture or do it himself and make it fast.

But he didn't want to do it and he carries A LOT of shame and self guilt about it because even if he didn't want to do it, he still did. And he owns it. He still owns the blood on his hands because impact trumps intention. No matter what his intentions were, people were still dead because of him. Even if some of those incidents were due to Herba literally drugging him and making him unable to control his actions even if he was aware of them.

And the line in the song "Little voice ruining my sanity" /"Little voice ruining my consciousness" are in reference to his internal Earl Tyrant that talks in his ear at near constant. His PTSD gives him auditory hallucinations and he will hear that little monster taunting him or scolding him constantly.

example:

So that lives in his head at constant and pokes in his mind whenever he's nervous or feeling a lot of self doubt or his anxiety is kicking in high gear (which is almost always).

and the

"Don't tell them what you've done, tell them what you've done Tell them what you've done, tell them what you've done Tell them what you'vе done"

section of the song is absolutely his alters urging him to hide what Makenshi was made to do when living under The Earl's rule in Gaudium. I should also mention that the only reason he got out of Gaudium is because Kaze and Kumo fight The Earl together at the end of the animated series and successfully seal Chaos for well a little while. So basically he had to strike back against his abuser - DIRECTLY AFTER - being killed by him... (and it was a brutal death; I have the clip but spoilers)

So Kumo only got out of the abusive situation because he had to kill his abuser and run as far as he could because said abuser is also immortal and revives constantly. So even for as calm and chill as he acts around Zelda in current day events - those Wanted Posters were put up at the orders of The Earl and he knows his abuser has the whole of Wonderland hunting for him and working to drag him back.

That's also why getting caught in that city for that one ask I answered has Kumo so tense and freaking out. He doesn't want his abuser anywhere NEAR Zelda and he also doesn't want to go back but if he doesn't then people will die for the price of his absence.

Sorry Zel but the cloud boy is honestly actually wound REAL tight.

__

I'm not the one to trust When I've lost everything that I've touched I've built a land in the sky, but I can't remember why

[Pre-Chorus] Oh, don't tell them what you've done, tell them what you've done The war's already won, why do we go on? Don't tell them what you've done, tell them what you've done Tell them what you've done, tell them what you've done Tell them what you'vе done

[Chorus] Scared of the watеr Scared of the rain (The rain) Scared of the memories that Make me insane (Someone help me) I'm scared of the smile I See on the page (Oh-oh-oh) I'll cover these vibrant eyes And forget the pain (The pain)

[Verse 2] Little voice ruining my sanity Evil dreams haunting me Don't you ever look my way? Little voice ruining my consciousness Nothing left to reminisce I would rather run away Lessons learned from the page Lore is written to the day All this pain will make me suffocate All my thoughts ever strange Free me from the mental cage How could I forget my name?

[Chorus] Scared of the water (So scared) Scared of the rain (Someone help me) Scared of the memories that (Oh-oh) Make me insane (Someone help me) I'm scared of the smile I (Hey, hey) See on the page (Oh, I see it on the page) I'll cover these vibrant eyes And forget the pain (Oh)

[Outro] Don't tell them what you've done, tell them what you've done (Tell them what you've done) The war's already won, why do we go on? (Why do we go on?) Don't tell them what you've done, tell them what you've done Tell them what you've done, tell them what you've done Tell them what you've done

[happybird16]

Concept: You have the power to inflict a target with horrible, unyielding anxiety and panic attacks at will

However, it is your own banked anxiety magnified. In order to use your power you have to put yourself into situations

[devildomsexting]

It’s okay to have bad days. It’s okay to not be able to explain what’s going on in your head. But I hope that you always have someone who loves you and wants to be there for you like Levi does 🧡

Leviathan x GN!Mc

When you’re feeling down, your boyfriend wants to help, even if he’s new at all of this.

Get access 1 week early to chats like this as well as Patron Exclusive chats by subscribing to my Patreon via the link below🧡

[powdermelonkeg]

Important rules/tips I've learned as an adult that helped with anxiety

If people are mad at you, it's their responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess

If they're mad at you in secret anyways, they're the ones in the wrong, not you

If people don't like what you're doing, it's their responsibility to tell you

If they say it's fine when it's really not, they're the ones in the wrong, not you

People are allowed to be wrong about you

If they are wrong about you, wait for them to bring it up, because if you try to, you will inevitably overcorrect

Some people are committed to misunderstanding you. You will not win arguments against them. Yes, even if you explain your point of view. They do not care. Drop it

The worst thing that will happen from a first-time offense is being told not to do it again. Maybe with a replacement if you broke something

You can improve relationships and gauge willingness to talk to you by giving compliments. It's like a daily log-in bonus and nobody thinks twice about it

Most things are better after you sleep on them

Most things are better after you have a meal

Most things are better after you shower

Your brain makes up consequences that are irrational. If the worst DOES come to pass and someone acts like they do in your head, they are overreacting, and you are entitled to say "what the fuck"

If your chest hurts after you feel like you've made a social error, that's called rejection-sensitive dysphoria. It means your anxiety is so bad that it's causing you physical pain, which is a good indicator that you're overreacting. Tense yourself, hold it for 20 seconds, let it go, then find a distraction

If you're suddenly angry at someone after you feel like you made a social error, that's also rejection-sensitive dysphoria. You are going to feel annoyed about it for awhile, but being genuinely pissed off is your anxiety trying to find something to blame to take the responsibility off your shoulders, and getting scared because it can't justify itself. Deep breaths, ask yourself how much you ACTUALLY want to be angry at that person, then find a distraction

"Sour grapes" is more healthy for you than stewing. Deciding you don't like someone who's perpetually annoyed with you, won't talk to you, etc. makes letting go of anxiety over them easier

If people don't like you, they will find reasons to be annoyed with you when they otherwise wouldn't. If people do like you, they will find reasons NOT to be annoyed with you when they otherwise would. People do not ping-pong between the two

You DO have to make a conscious choice not to think about something. If you're having trouble circling back to it, say out loud that you're done thinking about it and why. Then find a distraction

When you're upset, part of you is going to want to make false bids for attention (suddenly texting differently, heavy sighs, etc. but when someone asks you about it, you tell them it's nothing). Do not listen to it. You gain nothing from it except more misery

People like to help people they care about. It makes them feel good about themselves

If you think you're insufferable for needing help, see above. Yes, really. They get a serotonin kick from it

If you think you're insufferable for mannerisms you have, you either have to consciously choose not to do them, or accept that they're part of the package that comes with you. Being apologetic about existing does nothing except make you more miserable

If you do things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it makes it easier to do them when you hate it

If you avoid things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it reinforces and magnifies how bad it feels when you hate it

Seriously. Read those last two points again. If you can make yourself make a phone call when you've got nothing to lose, you will slowly lose that panic you get when you have to make a phone call you haven't prepared for. You do have to CONSCIOUSLY take that step

Hobbies that make you care for something get rid of that nagging feeling that you're not doing enough. Go grow some rosemary

If you don't engage with your hobbies regularly, you will feel miserable, and anxiety will spike

Hobbies are things that give you a bit of happiness. They do not have to be organized or named to do that. Go be creative in something. Play with coins. Make up lists. Start a new WIP

No one cares what you look like

If people point out things they don't like about how you look unprompted, they are being rude. You are entitled to say "what the fuck"

People who like you will find you pretty to some degree. Minor things about your appearance go completely unnoticed. Literally, scars and dots and blemishes do not register to someone who likes your company

You looking at yourself in the mirror is 10x more closely than anyone is going to look at you

If you're anxious about your body type, and you're creatively inclined, make/write an oc with that same shape. Give them nice things and make other characters love them. Put them on adventures. You'll start to see yourself in the mirror more kindly

You care about wording and perfect lines/colors way more than anyone who views your work ever will

Sometimes when you're upset, you're going to feel like not eating. Do not do that. Not eating makes you more miserable

Same with things you normally enjoy. Denying yourself helps no one. You are punishing yourself for being sad. Stop it

Both of these will take conscious decision to break the habit of. Make yourself do it anyways, and it will slowly get easier

And again, to reiterate: If someone is mad at you, it is THEIR responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess

[rocxyoulikeahurricane]

"I'm in a hospital. I don't want to be in a hospital."

{ Roth is agitated. He doesn’t want to be here. A bad memory is causing fear. He’s reliving a terrible memory. }

The angel had gone through similar things, so he kind of knew how to handle this. "You're ok Roth, I'm right here, you've been discharged, I'm here to take you home". He bent down. @hellcab

[cupcakeslushie]

First || Prev || Next

Just a heads up, guys! This week is my birthday and I have a full work schedule, so I might not be able to upload anything for a second! I’m gonna try and take this week easy, but you never know if inspiration might hit lol.

[shiroi---kumo]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ He knew and he didn't know how he was supposed to ignore it. Every day the cracks got wider. Every day the fault lines continued to crawl forward on his chest and slither down his legs like an infection he had no way of ever finding the cure for. It's a cruel sick reality that he's had to come to face each and every time he dares to stand in front of a mirror, disrobed before a bath or catching the sight of his own reflection as he looks just over his shoulder while he changes into his night clothes.

He knows. He knows. He's known.

How do you ignore such a thing as your death stretching out and cracking over your skin? His heart is as shattered as his soul is but hearing it out loud is an all new sense of plunging into an unending purgatory where he's caught between this twisted space between life and death. Not quite dead yet but not quite living anymore either.

He couldn't call himself a ghost anymore even if the only thing his mouth ever did was speak from the graveyard of a lost civilization. It's hard to hear it. It's hard to hear that's no hope for him even if hope was that fickle little thing he only ever dared to pick up from time to time. Hope was a rose he should know better than to touch because while it looks beautiful from afar it pricks him every time.

It pricks him and the blood flows. It pricks him and the tears stream leaving the prince only able to wrap his arms around himself as he crashes to the ground in a weeping mess of shattering stability. He can't keep it up much longer. He doesn't know how much he can keep on the mask of his sanity before he shatters before them all and reveals the fragmented monster that rests just below the surface.

They - they were the only family he had left and he didn't need them to see their prince - their King as such a discomposed wretch as this. He knows Revon will hear the crying in the hallway and he doesn't know how to halt his tears before the man returns to his post. He'd sent him away for only a moment. He'd sent him away to check on the others while he took a moment to change in his nightgown before he would attempt to find rest this evening but seeing the mess that was his body had that little beast's voice echoing in his mind again.

"There's no saving you." He's said as he felt that phantom touch of the poisonous pink python that lives in his mind. Forever haunting his every move. "There's no saving you precious. My beautiful Little Cloud, this is your fault for defying me. Look at what you've done to yourself."

And he couldn't deny it. He couldn't deny that the beast was right. It was his fault for rebelling. His was his fault for daring to snap back at the hand that kept him safe all these years since he crash landed in this world. If you could call that safe. Was it? No. He knew that tortuous environment was anything but -but it was - all he knew since he landed here and if he had just kept his head down and obeyed then -

-then he wouldn't be dying like this. A dying immortal. What a joke!

Even if that little beast is half way on the other side of Wonderland he can see feel hands ghosting over his back as he holds his nightgown close to his chest unable to even get the damned thing on to cover his bear chest. He's a shattering mess and - and - and -

"You know this is all your fault, don't you Little Cloud? I warned you didn't I? I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me again, didn't I, my pet?"

And it's all he can do to stare back at the wretched picture of himself reflecting in the mirror. The warzone walking. Look at the mess he'd turned himself into and his lips finally part as the cries slow and tears silently stream over his face.

"Yes Master. "

“There’s no saving you.” 

As his heart shattered so did the strength in his legs sending him collapsing to the ground. Somehow he had known what their answer was going to be and yet he still found himself screaming in anguish.

[fuck-that-im-starving]

I just need to be skinnier and everything will be fine. Just a little bit skinnier. A little bit skinnier. Maybe if I dont eat for a few days it'll be ok.

[worthless-misery]

Dear diary...

The fact that I'm still "alive" in 2024 just feels like a huge mistake...

[decrheart]

relations: must already be close with him, reach out if interested verse: could easily be normal or magical verse

   "—Why does everyone keep asking if I’m fine?! I’m more than fine! Better than that even!” Spoke too quickly to comprehend most of what he said but it was clear his anxiety went off the charts. Flipped his hands in the air before he returned them across his chest, paced back and forth. Once he started, it was almost impossible to stop him, a calming distraction would be helpful to him at this moment.

   Constantly made sure everyone else was okay and put his own needs last might have finally caught up with him. Despite how he encouraged others to be opened, he wasn’t such an advocate for himself. Even more so if they needed to have a serious discussion, the last thing he wanted was to hurt the other, especially if he needed to speak his truth. “Lo que sea!” Roughly translated to: whatever. He was so fed up, he didn’t know how to get rid of this feeling.

[shiroi---kumo]

.: Song of Servitude :.

The feeling of the tendril that is wrapped about his form is crushing but really what's worse is the small hand that has twisted itself into white locks and is pulling backwards hard.

Words: 3.6k  Pages: 8 Trigger Warnings:  Abuse, Objectification, Possession, Gaslighting , Manipulation, Threats, torture, Nausea, dizziness,  death, murder, ultimatums, hair pulling, love bombing, restricted movement, begging, submission, injury, suffocation, strangling, choking,

It's all he can do to not release his voice in a meek melody of misery. No, instead all that manages to escape is the weak whimpering of a breaking doll. It hurts and he hates it when he does this. Of all this torture his body has been subjected to in the past three years there is just something about the feeling of fingers in his hair that sends his mind into overdrive when it comes to pain. 

It's a pain that is far too personal and far too degrading. It's the song of his soliloquy of servitude and a grim reminder of his place in the world. Nothing makes him feel so small as this dismal display of degradation does. Truly it would bring him to his knees if only he was allowed to drop. 

"Thought you could get away from me, did you? Thought you got the better of me and that I wouldn't find you? I will always find you, Little Cloud. No matter where you go or how far you run I will always find you. You belong to me, Makenshi and it would do you well if you finally got that through your thick skull." 

Those fingers are so small but he feels like they could tear snow from his scalp at any moment. Those fingers are so small but they're so very strong and he'll never understand it. This beast could have taken any form it desired but it settled in that of a child and that is what makes this all the more degrading. 

Those fingers are digging into his skull and it's all he can do to keep his mask fastened tightly over the lower half of his face. It's all he can do to hold his breath and keep his Mist locked tightly in his lungs. They're burning. They're burning and they feel like they might burst. This is what he gets for running away again. This is what he gets for trying to sneak out and run away. To find some place better. Some place out there in this Wonderland where he didn't need to fear for his life on the daily. 

He wants to scream but at the same time his voice is stuck in his throat. Any sound that he could be making stripped from him like the air he seems incapable of swallowing at the moment. How does he even get himself in these situations in the first place? How is it that no matter how fast he moves, this beast always seems to snatch him up like a viper ripping a bird from the sky? That's all this monster was; a twisted serpent and it was ready to feed. 

It'd been a few weeks since he'd been last tied up like this so this putrid pink pit of despair was very obviously starving. What a better entrée than it's absolutely favorite snack? This lone lost Misterican would do nicely. He always did. 

And he can tell as much from the look on the monster’s face. He can tell when he attempts to open his eyes only to jerk them closed again as the devil pulls back and he has to fight himself to not let out even a single note of his pain.  However this beast’s grip is releasing ever so slightly as fingers ease their twist in his hair when the sound a monitor flickers on.  He’s finally able to open his eyes but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to because he knows how this works. He knows if he opens his eyes he’s bound to be forced to witness some atrocity and he’s about to be asked if he would trade up his life for the poor souls of Wonderland who have never done anything all the same. 

And he would.  Of course he would. That’s why he’s twisted up in this serpent's coils with a hand buried in his hair.  That’s why his hands are pinned behind his back and the Maken has been stripped away from him. That’s why his legs have been firmly secured and even if he could thrash it wouldn’t make that much difference. The only thing he can do now is hang there and turn his head as commanded when the picture flickers on and he’s met with the sight of that damable plant witch. 

She’s waving into the screen with wicked intentions used as her latest lipstick shade. There is nothing ever good about the smile she’s wearing and he’s holding his breath still as she explains that she is where His Excellency asked her to go and she’ll be adjusting the camera soon for the show. Whatever that meant. Their versions of shows are never good. So he does the only thing he can think to do - the only show of defiance he has left and he closes his eyes just as tightly as he can manage. He doesn't want to watch. He doesn't want to see another massacre.

"Pay attention, Makenshi, this is all for you." The small emperor of pink explains. The hand clenches down in his hair and turns his head towards the screen a little more than it had been before. 

 "Open your eyes." He demands. "Watch the results of what your disobedience brings." 

It's a low growl and the hand in his hair is pulling so tightly it's hard to obey the command given to him but he forces jade open nonetheless. Crystal burns his waterline from the pain but he refuses to let it fall. 

It's a small village that she's entering. It looks quaint and tucked away in a back corner of Wonderland where a lost traveler could find a warm bed to sleep in and perhaps a glass of water after a long hike. It looks pleasant and like its streets could be filled with such beautiful song during the day and the night. 

There are children there, not that has ever stopped any of them before. Not Herba and she's normally the one to be sent out to do this sort of thing - not just because Oscha doesn't seem to want to get his hands dirty but because this witch of a woman seems to enjoy doing so all too much. 

"Don't." The Cloud sounds as he squirms as best he can within his bonds and attempts to pull his head away from the small Lord's that is buried deep in white locks.. "Your Excellency don't. Please. There are children in that village." 

"There are children in every village, Little Cloud, but you've never thought twice about that when you decide that your own goals are more important than that of Wonderland again. So what will you do then, Little Cloud? Will you die again? Will you give me your life in their stead? Will you give me your agony?"

His head falls as he allows his mask to finally slide back in his defeat only to let out the smallest puff of white as he sighs. He'll relent himself to this. He'll die. If only save the lives of those chil- 

"I'm afraid that's not an option this time."

And the coils around him wrap tighter only to squeeze him hard enough to force his arms to start digging into his sides. There is a yelped gasp that escapes him but the swordsman is pulling air back into his lungs just as quickly as he can to swallow the sounds of pain that he dare not release.

"You've ran off too many times and it's about time you learned a hard lesson for your transgressions. You killed these people, Makenshi. Their blood is on your hands. You've made me go this far and now you have to learn why you shouldn't push me like this, child." 

And it's as if that damn woman can read this beast's mind because in time with that moment - the carnage starts. There are monstrous plants and the witch's pollen spreading through the space as the sounds of screaming echo from the speakers in the room and blood splatters over cobblestone streets. 

He can't watch. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to see this kind of carnage again and it feels like it carries on for a century until it happens and he feels his heart tense in his chest when it does. The town's streets fill again but with something else. Something he would know anywhere and could tell you the scent of it even if he is practically worlds away from the events unfolding before his eyes. 

The town is overcome with the color blue. Blue Mist and it's such a friendly color; a familiar color and it makes his heart ache at the sight of it. He would know that color blue anywhere. There's no possible way that - 

"Oooh what's this? Did one of those pesky little rats get away from me? Are you not the only lost little bird, my precious Little Cloud?" 

The monster doesn't have to tell Herba to investigate further and he isn’t about to tell either of them that if she inhales that bright blue cloud her body will slow to near halt. Let her. Let her damn herself with the unknown and know the might of the Misterican people - 

Everyone else had to breathe that in too. No one had masks to protect them and why would they? Mist was not customary to the Soil Souls. They would not think of the dangers it could carry for the unprepared. 

Opettaja what are you thinking? It is you, isn't it, Opettaja? 

He doesn’t know why but he can feel his heart swelling up for a moment. Swelling up with an emotion he had long since forgotten the feeling of and quite frankly he thought he didn’t even know how to feel really at all. 

Hope. 

There is hope bubbling in his chest and suddenly there is shifting of the coils and a crushing pressure squeezing tightly against his neck while the creature snarls. 

"Quiet." He pauses as a pale blue gaze shifts over to its prey only to shift back to the screen just as fast despite the fact that the Cloud has said nothing for hours. "I don't like that feeling. I don't like all that hope. You know something. You know who that Mist belongs to, don't you?"

But no words come. They can't. He can't allow himself to break and he can't get Opettaja in trouble if that's who this Mist truly belongs to, so he can only watch in horror as the screaming stops and soon he's watching that damn witch of a woman to send her vibes deep within the aqua cloud only to drag out it's owner and his eyes go wide when sure enough he sees Aqua Sielu himself. 

His breath hitches in his throat and he has to stifle any noise he could possibly make. It is Opettaja. He's alive. He could escape here and get to him. He could escape and they could run away together. He could escape and - for the first time in years the Cloud is squirming. Even for as tightly as he's bound, he's squirming and thrashing and trying his hardest to get free. 

Where they go, he goes. They are bound by soul and that is his Oath. They are his soul binds and even if only one still lives, he will fight until his dying breath to get to them. That is his family and he will be damned before he allows them to come to harm. So he will fight. He will fight with every ounce of life he posse- 

That tendril that wraps him is squeezing him as hard as it can in seconds and the only thing he can do is gasp in pain as mist rolls off his lips in suffocating plumes. It seems that the beast is no longer just starving but this predator is now also angry and if he's come to learn anything within this twisted world of the lost and hopeless, it's that starving and angry are never a good combination for anything - let alone the predator that holds you tight within its grasp. 

He can hear screaming but it's not his own. He didn't see what happened because his eyes screwed shut the moment that damn tendril started crushing his throat and he can feel himself getting pulled back in, closer to the beast as that small hand finds its way back into snowy locks and pulls.

"Who is that man?!" The small emperor demands. "You know him, don't you?!" 

His eyes are clenched shut tightly because of the pain. This is the kind of pain that blurs out all the rest. Even if that tendril is threatening to crush his entire form and smash his bones into dust there is something so intimate and humiliating as having his hair pulled that makes his mind hyper-sensitive to the taunt sensation of every single fine lock of snow threatening to be stripped from him right down to the root. 

"Look at him and tell me who he is! He's not a poor lost bird, is he Little Cloud?! He means something to you. Don't lie to me I can taste your fear for him. Your whole body is trembling. Don't lie to me. This is not your usual flavor of terror so tell me who he is and I just might make her spare his life." 

And it's then that he forces his eyes open at the attempt at a bargain. He can't say his name. He refuses to give this monster something so sacred as his Opettaja's name… 

That would work. It's not lying but it's almost not giving too much information. 

"Opettajani." 

The single word rips itself from his throat as he starts to feel the tendril back off the appendage and give his body a chance to attempt to catch up on all the air he's missing.  To try to get the dizzying sensation to calm itself as he finally finds it within him to look once more at the screen only to see Herba's turn to take Opettaja Sielu by the throat with her vibes and squeeze. 

No. 

No she wouldn't stop and he couldn't breathe. Opettaja was dying. She was going to kill him. She was going to - 

"Please." He sounds in urgency. "Your Excellency, I'll do anything. Please don't kill him."

But pink brows only raise slightly as pale eyes never leave the screen. It's like he's not even listening. It's like he's not hearing him. It's like….

"I beg of you please…." If he needs him to hear him now more than any other time in his life it's now, so Pilvi do what you must to protect your family. "....please Master. I beg you." 

And he feels the disgust washing over his body as the words leave his mouth. He never wants to speak to this little monster in such a way ever again. 

"Ooooh ho?" Is a near purred chime as the little beast turns his head to look at his prey. "So you do know how beg. What have you ever done to make you think you deserve such kindness?" 

And he knows the answer to that question and he doesn't like it. He knows because he's in this fix because he just ran off the night before. He's in this mess and Opettaja Sielu is hurt because he is too stubborn to just drop his head and obey this monster as he should. His pride refuses to allow him to submit but his pride about to get his family - 

He feels like his heart stops when the speakers go silent. He's too scared to look at the screen but he can't stop his head from turning to do so anyway. He's just hanging there, limp in her grasp as she doesn't even give him the dignity of lowering him to the ground before she drops him and he sees his form disappear into the mist that is filling the space all around them. 

He's gone. Opettaja Sielu is gone. He's dead and they took him away from him. One of his Soul Binds yet lived and he couldn't save his life. He damned him to this and he couldn't do anything but hang there and watch his family die. He was all alone again. He was all alone and there is a pleased little chipper sounding noise leaving the beast as the coils around him start to loosen but never release. 

He seems to be pleased with himself as if a proper lesson has finally been taught but the prince feels his stomach turn at the next question that leaves the beast's lips. 

"What did he teach you? You said he was your teacher. What did he teach?"

As if this monster actually holds interest in his life now…or ever did at all. Opettaja Sielu is gone so he only hangs his head and mumbles. 

"Musiikkia."

"I see. I see. So then, Little Cloud, can you sing?"

Why did this become a casual conversation when his teacher just died and he has to do everything in his power to hold himself back from crying? He can't cry. Not even over this. The blade does not weep, the blade does not weep.

'But you don't need to be anyone but yourself in my classroom, Maamuna.'

Celestial Mother he forgot. How could he ever forget Maamuna? Why can't he be him again? Would it be too much to ask? Just one more time. One more day. Let him be Maamuna again. He wants to be his Maamuna but he watched him fade. He watched him die and the screen has long since shut down leaving him trapped here in this castle with no one but this small demonic toddler all over again. 

"I asked you a question." The boy demands and still the words don't come. “Can you sing?” 

He doesn't want to answer and he doesn't want to think about it, because of course he can. He can still see that goofy face as Opettaja grinned when he walked into his classroom only to be handed a metal straw. Of course he can because he can still remember the sensation of being asked to make silly sounds in said straw only to finally have it pulled away from him after a good round of vocal exercises and he can hear Opettaja Sielu’s voice ordering him to simply.

“Sing.”

It was how he learned to stretch his vocal chords. It was how he learned how to stop cracking notes. Of course he does. Of course he knows but he doesn’t want to have this conversation with a monster that could hardly care. Hardly understand the way his soul ignites when he’s allowed to release his inner passions through the tune his heart plays. The world is a rhythm and he longs to dance to it. He longs to pluck his Mist along to the Universe’s pulse and to sing with a voice unburdened by the invisible links in the chain of servitude that is fastened so tightly around his neck. 

“I’m going to say this in a way I know you can understand, and I expect an answer this time.  Osaatko laulaa?” 

“Osaan.”   

If only to get that beast to leave him alone. If only to get that beast to finally be silent and to let him mourn in peace. Just kill him already. Just strip the life from him so he doesn’t have to worry about anything or think for the next few days. Let him mourn in - 

“Then let’s hear it.”   Celestial Mother no.  “Sing for him. You at least owe him that don’t you? Don’t you little birds sing for your lost ones? Sing for him.”

And he feels the coils loosen further as if to allow his chest the room it needs to expand and take it the required air. He’s still stuck in these bonds and he’s still not going anywhere but he’s at least no longer struggling to breathe. So he’s taking this moment to allow air to flood his system and for his lungs to refill before his lips finally part again after several long quiet moments. 

And it is soft. There are no words. Only sounds and pitch. He doesn’t need words to sing. He can craft emotion without them. He was taught by the best after all.  It is sorrowful and slow. His depression made plain in his voice, and for once the beast can only listen.  Not even a comment of how his grief must taste. Voice full of unshed tears, he sings. 

Even if he doesn’t want to. Even if his mind is begging him to stop. Even if his heart is urging that Opettaja Sielu deserved better than this. 

There’s not a chance to finish. There’s no air to complete the tune as the tendril that had been hovering his neck clenches down without warning and all he can do is gasp and gag in that moment his soft song of sorrow turning to low begs of suffocation. 

“What an awful tune that was.”  Comes the commentary he was dreading as his throat is released so his body can trade for the torment - coils gripping him tightly until he screams at the top of his lungs. 

“Ah, this is so much better. You’re absolutely right, you can sing, and this by far is my favorite melody.” 

[maarlena]

Idk if thats a bpd or a me thing

[thatsbelievable]