#tw; self doubt

[symphonicsoul]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ The cracks are in the mirror as he looks but they aren't shattering through glass. The cracking fault lines that show the way the body is buckling from the weight are rushing over ghost pale skin.

They're getting bigger.

He has tried to be careful. He has tried to be attentive to them but he doesn't like looking at his reflection. He doesn't like looking at the way his own body is chipping and shattering like the most fragile pane that could be turned to nothing but splinters of glass if only someone where to be a tad bit clumsy and drop him.

He can't fall again. If he falls again who knows what will happen when he hits the ground.

A year ago the spot of scarred skin that occupied space on his belly was small enough that he could cover it with his hand but now he can't quite make that claim. Not as a small hand moves to cover the damaged skin and pieces of the continuous price is paying peeks out and and lines stretch out far across his body out from beneath his fingertips.

It hurts to touch. Not in a physical sense but in the way that he knows what this is doing to him. It knows what it means for him and if this one has grown so much in size it makes him wonder how much of his back is covered in the rot.

What else was there to call this?

He hasn't shown it to anyone and he doesn't know how. He doesn't know how to just swallow his pride and - is it pride though? It is pride or is the fear of having to look into ocean deep suns and tell him that he's been wrong the whole time.

The cracks are spreading up now. They're climbing him like vines and he doesn't know how to make them stop. He doesn't know if he can. But on top of all this, he doesn't know how to he's supposed just live with it. How does he do it?

Black Wind's mind is shattered. He's lost his memories but he never lost his culture. He never lost his world. He never lost the core of who he was - just who they were. Just who the face filled with moonlit jade even belonged to. How does he live with it? He knows he's missing something at this point now, so how does he just keep trudging on all while knowing that there was pieces of who he is supposed to be have been shattered out?

He's lost Father's voice. He's lost Mother's songs. He's lost Usva's love Pieces of himself fade away every time a fragment falls. A sliver at a time and he's falling apart. What will he lose next? He's losing fragments of who he is. At least Black Wind can't say that.

He never wants Black Wind to be able to say that and he'll give every shard that is left of himself to make sure it never happens.

There is a sigh as his shoulders drop and he continues to stare in the full length mirror that hangs on the wall before him. It caught it attention. It wasn't always there. He's only managed to pull his pants back on after taking an overly long bath when his eyes were caught by the sight of the reflection looking back at him.

The pathways of his negligence are craved deep into his flesh now and he finds himself sighing again as he continues to fail to pull back on his shirts. Instead he pulls his hand away from his belly, fingers trembling as they reveal the damage beneath.

It's like an infection that's sat within him and eating him slowly from the inside out. That's why he called it rot. His soul is rotting. That damn beast force fed him poison for twelve years and it made damn sure that the last parting gift it left him with was an infection that had no remedy.

There was no antidote this time. He's drank his last vile and he can still feel the venom seeping down his throat. It's set in his lungs and spread in his veins. Nothing could save him now and the only thing he can focus on is the way the scar expands little by little as it follows the path of the shattering lines on his chest.

Almost to his heart now.

His hand trembles still as he reaches for the glass and fingertips barely trace over the smooth surface to follow the reflection of the line that is nearly to his heart. He can't keep going like this. Will it get there in weeks? Days? He doesn't know but it'll be there by the end of the month if something isn't done.

Will it kill him then?

His knees cave as he finds himself sinking to the floor hand still pressed against the glass.

He's out of time. It doesn't matter if he can't look that man in the eyes to tell him how scared he is. He won't make it to the end of the year. There's no way. This infection is spreading too fast. He can't bring himself to believe he'll survive much longer.

He's going to die.

And there's not a damn thing any of them can do to stop it.

[cvtmyhearttopieces]

maybe if the music is loud enough it’ll drown out my thoughts of suicide

[symphonicsoul]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Sielu's voice is not what he remembers but beloved just the same. He says he doesn't want to go. He says he's pledged an Oath and that said Oath was all he has left. He says that forcing him to run would be cruel but none of them know what kind of monster he's become in all these years.

Not one of them is aware of the beast that was born of the corpse they once called their Liege. He's not even a man anymore, just the devil that lurks within Wonderland's legend and the demon that rises within all her citizens' nightmares.

The beast he's had to become to survive and he doesn't know if he can protect them from that mon -

Sielu sobs further that he doesn't want to leave him and that he doesn't care what he's done. Because he loves him. After all of it, Aqua Sielu still loves him and he says that is enough.

That is enough.

And it has always been enough.

Love has carried all of them through everything. It was what kept their heads above water. Every single one of them. Revon when he lost his family and Sielu when he was forced to survive whatever hell that Herba rained down upon him. It saved Valo through all his illness and complications, even now as Aamunkoitto starts to work to lift the historian from the ground so he can bring them both closer to the rest of the group.

Oh and Aamunkoitto, how love changed that man's life. His love for Valo and his love for the rest of his binds. The way the Royal Family just welcomed him into his home when both men of pink and orange had nothing to their names but the clothing on their backs and each other. They showed up on the palace doorstep hand in hand and hand in hand they've been ever since.

How the love of all of these men gave the Child of White some sense of what it was to be something more than the religious artifact the world was trying to mold him into. He was not clay. He was not soften ground one could mold with their hands and force to take whatever shape they so desired.

He was a cloud and clouds were free flowing. He needed space. He needed freedom. He needed the encouragement to stretch his wings and soar as high as the winds would take him and when the rains came and his body came crashing back down, he needs strong arms that would catch him.

The Dawn. The Stars. The Lights. Oh but the Ocean.

How many times has the ocean opened up his arms to him and hidden his tears within his vast waters? How many times has the ocean wrapped him in the safety of his waves?

They all hand strong arms and they all held him up when he needed but the Ocean was one to wrap him in warm waters and hold him fast until he felt like he could fly again. The Ocean did so without hesitation and filled him with a sense that told this one small cloud that he was the universe's greatest treasure - over and over again.

And he here now when the man of the waves is struggling, he is doing it again. He is trying to open wounded arms to give access to a broken body and a shattering heart to the one small cloud that can hardly call himself whole anymore.

Perhaps if they put their pieces together they could find a way to be whole again? Even if only for a moment and he can hear her humming in his mind - singing the sweetest of tunes even though her counter is no where to be found. She only sings when she is feeling at ease. She only sings when she feels trust and security.

Lady Tiamat only sings when she feels loved.

And her child is crying. All of her children are crying in some sense of the word. Silent tears. Loud sobs. Slow tears. Broken cries. Her children are all crying and she is urging him to do something about it.

These men are his men. Tiamat be blessed for all to survive, it was his men. His Vassals. His family.

So the small prince is doing the only thing he knows how to do in such a situation and that is to close the gap between himself and the crashing ocean so he can instead offer his own cracking soul to him. A body with shifting fault lines snaking through porcelain flesh. It was all he had to give.

"Olen pahoillani, Opettaja." He sounds using the more formal version of the phrase that exists within their shared language. "Rakastan Sinua. Rakastan Sinua niin paljon."

Eyes downcast, unsure if he still holds the rights to look the man in the eyes. It's been so long. It's been so long since he's seen any of them and surely he's more like a stranger to them now. Like the ghost of a boy he doesn't know he can still find within himself to bring them comfort to their pains.

"I don't - I don't know if I can still be him. I'm not the King I was supposed to be. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt any of you. I don't want to be.... I failed all of you. I don't want to destroy your memories of him. I can't be Pilvi anymore.

I've failed you all in so many ways. I don't want to disgrace him the same as I have disgraced you. I love you all so much but I don't deserve you. Not after everything I've done. You should care. You should care about what I've done.

I'm a tenant breaker. That place. I hate them all. That place turned me into this mess. I'm a monster. I don't want him to become a monster too. Love can't fix me, no matter how much I want it to. I don't want to hurt you with what I've become."

He lived for the memory of them in all those years. The vision of their faces in his mind was all he had but now that they're here and he can touch them again. He can hold them again. He can embrace them and hear their voices. He can say I love you and have them hear... he doesn't understand why he is suddenly so scared.

Tiamat asks that he is open with them but he doesn't know how to do that without hurting them and a King is never supposed to hurt his people. What kind of King would he be then?

Usva was right all along. He was never suited for this position.

He was only .... an imposer.

He gets told again that he's done nothing wrong.

It's a fight to keep himself from apologizing again despite it. He hates it when Revon gets angry and he hates it when Valo questions him.

Even if he didn't do anything wrong, they still act like he has. It still feels like he has.

They don't seem to understand he scolds himself already. They don't seem to understand much about him at all. He isn't angry at them for it, but he still feels as if he's looked down upon. He still feels like he's forgotten so much that he can't recall how to do anything right.

That feeling never goes away. It ebbs and flows, but never does it disappear. But, just as always, he holds that in.

Pilvi wouldn't want them to fight. Sielu doesn't want to fight either. Besides, there are bigger problems than something as stupid as his feelings.

Herba is still alive. The name alone sends a chill up his spine. Herba and Oscha. Oscha - he's heard that name somewhere. Where?

Probably from her. He wonders if she's looking for him. Clearly, she's at least looking for Pilvi no matter how much he tries to make it seem like it is someone else.

As vile as it is, it almost hurts to think of the possibility that she isn't tearing Wonderland apart to find her pet. He doesn't understand why it does. He'd never go back, of course, but... something in his heart merely wants her to look. The rest of him just reminds him of how disgusting that is, of how disgusting he is. Who in their right mind would want anyone like that to look for them?

His skin feels like it's crawling. He doesn't want her to be alive, he doesn't want her to find him or Pilvi, but he does want to be missed? It makes no sense.

Blue eyes are closing tightly, screwing themselves shut like not looking at any of them will somehow make him feel less humiliated or make the wave of nausea go away.

Valo speaks to explain they won't leave Pilvi no matter how he views himself. Valo sounds horrible. He has for a while. It still doesn't explain why not a single question or harsh correction falls from that man's lips.

Sielu wants to ask if they're planning to push the boy too, press until everything is held in and he behaves, but somehow he feels the answer is 'no'.

At least he won't have to defend Pilvi from that specific kind of ache. He would. Of course he would. That's why he's not asking anything - he knows how much it hurts to be spoken to that way. He would never do that to someone.

Just like, of course, he wouldn't dare go back to Herba. He wouldn't go back to her even if she did find him. He won't.

He doesn't like her. He hates her. He hates everything she stands for and he hates Gaudium and he hates himself and he hates this whole situation. He hates even more that he can't just be content. He should be happy. Everyone is alive and Pilvi is here and everyone is relieved, so he should follow. He should shut up and turn off and stop being upset. This was the goal, wasn't it?

Not him. Never him. Nobody ever looked for him. He would've died there if he hadn't gotten himself out. He wasn't ever worth looking for. Even someone like Herba doesn't want him.

Together is where they'll stay according to Valo, so he should be happy. He should be happy that he gets even this much, but he still wants more like a selfish animal. He wants whatever Pilvi has that makes everyone so willing to accept him freely.

He wants Valo to shut up and he wants him to keep talking so Sielu knows he's alive. He wants someone to hold him so tight that all his shattered pieces stick back together and he wants to never be touched or even perceived again. He wants answers and he wants to remain clueless.

He feels like he's splitting in two. Like he's failing, because shouldn't he be comforting his liege? Shouldn't he be acting rather than freezing up and drowning more in his own internal conflict? Pilvi is in just as much pain as Sielu, has endured who-knows-what, thinks of himself as a demon who deserves abandonment when that just isn't right.

He doesn't remember how to help and he doesn't know what to do, but efforts to try and force himself to be quiet fail upon the next sob that escapes.

"But I don't want to go," he near-whispers, making himself look up at Pilvi even with vision that's doubled and blurred with tears. "I pledged an Oath. I promised I wouldn't ever leave him and that promise is all I've got left, so please... please don't make me run. Don't be that cruel."

His head curls in, his eyes closing once more as he finally chooses where to draw the line.

"I can't take anything else. I can't do it," he says. He's unsure whether he's sobbing or coughing, but either way he has to pause for a moment and try to breathe before he lets more words come out. Even with Herba, he can't recall ever saying he'd reached his limit, but he's certain now that this is it. His promises are all that he has to live for, and there's only one still in effect. Every other reason isn't one he can rely on. There's no guarantee Revon will speak to him ever again, no certainty Aamunkoitto will remember he exists, no promise Valo will ever fully accept him.

All he has left to motivate him without a doubt is his own Oath. Anything else is a pleasant surprise, not something he can use as a lifeline.

"I can't, so please don't make me run. I don't want to leave you, Maamuna. Please don't ask that of me. I don't - I don't care what you did. I don't. Because - because rakastan sinua. Do you understand? Rakastan sinua and that's reason enough to stay, right?"

Flying water, elenium - both are totally foreign substances to him, one of which he's learning about now and the other he's only heard of in passing. If he had to wager a guess, he'd say they don't exist on Amestris at all.

Cid moves on before he can ask more about the flying water. He's staring at dots on a screen now - screens this advanced are also new - where supposedly the blue one is Pilvi.

"I still can't believe how fast he is sometimes," he remarks. "He'd better keep his mask on or else he's gonna get an earful from me."

[theoakings]

I pray you’re overwhelmed by the perfect love and abundant grace of Christ Jesus as you call upon His name, surrender all pride, doubts or fears and depend on Him.💗

God bless you, pookie.

[lucianscorner]

Thanks for much for the Ccino doodles!

Decided to make him angsty for this one .

[angelcake707]

Day 11 - Angst

They're both suffering some issues. Pomni's hugging her Gummigoo plushie, 'cause she can't handle trying not to abstract. As for Caine, he's doubting himself, thinking nobody likes his adventures, causing the area to glitch out.

Showtime Week belongs to @waffle-gal

[nomkiwi]

The urge to delete everything and restart because new editors get sm praise and gifts and nobody gives a fuck about me anymore

(Not like anyone except my like. 3 closest friends would miss me lmao)

[pots-culture-is]

Undiagnosed pots culture is laying down and having a resting heart beat of 63 and then standing up to have it go up to 125 and still think to myself “but what if im fine and im just making it all up in my head?” Even tho there’s also joint pain and dizziness and headaches every single day and brain fog and blood pooling and more

But what if nothing’s actually wrong and im just making it up in my head and convincing myself something’s wrong even though i don’t want something to be wrong and i know that the physical symptoms are all real

To fake something you have to consciously fake it, (although I'm aware it sounds insane, I didn't believe that either for a long time, but I promise it's true).

If you have symptoms, you're very likely not making it up in your head anon, sure something being wrong isn't great, but I can promise you that worrying if you're faking or not isn't worth your time. (or energy). (that shit is more valuable than gold dude /gender neutral).

I got told (by many people including a doctor) that I must be faking and I believed it, all it did was worsen my PoTS (health was already deteriorating and it was a spiral I couldn't escape), once I pushed past that and got a diagnosis and medication holy shit is life easier.

I'm not the best with words of support, I'm aware, but I try haha. If you take anything away from this, be it that not everyone will present the same, just because one thing is less bad that someone else, doesn't mean you're faking, or anything like that. It can't hurt to let someone know that there may be something wrong either. ❤️(/platonic)

[novasintheroom]

Oh don't mind me, just trying to get hyped for the Prince!Vash arranged marriage au I have cooking in my head :) Moodboard it is!

[theoakings]

[utanaza-ao3]

Title: oh, i was sleeping in the garden when i saw you first Rating: Teen and Up Fandom: Genshin Impact Relationships: Zhongli/Venti Content Warning: Minor Character Death, Self-Doubt Word Count: 3,982 Summary: But oh, he couldn’t hide; but oh, he couldn’t hide – not from him, not so close, not so near, not so tender; not when they were mere inches apart, breathing the same cold, sordid air, not when he could feel Morax’s heartbeat within his own chest; and gently, rough and calloused and battle-scarred fingers snake their way into his hood, holding his chin gingerly as Morax turns his face toward him.

“… In all the time that I have known you, I have never seen your face,” he mutters softly. “… Why must you cover yourself so?”

He gulps.

“I am nothing but an ugly thing,” Venti whispers, afraid. “… I am nothing but pathetic and lonesome and cursed; the son of Medusa, I’ve been told. I – I do not wish to bring shame onto you. Please – please forgive me.”

“Utter nonsense,” Morax tells him.

“.. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever known.” ~~ Remember when this did numbers? Because I sure do. Read it here!

[eyesofcuriosity]

/Maybe it's the season because you know cold and whatnot gloomier thoughts seep into my mind.

Just feel like....waste of space, or a parasite living off someone who is much more hardworking than myself. I'm ashamed and disappointed in myself.

I am trying to change that, it's really slow and I'm worried once I reach the point of change and growth....Will I be able to do that?

Or will I just, cover in fear and take a step back and go back to the unhealthy lifestyle.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Infinity: LuLu, you think I’m smart, right?

Lunar: You’re the smartest.

Infinity: So I’m not dumb?

Lunar: Not at all.

Infinity: And I’m not ugly?

Lunar, now holding a knife: I’ll kill whoever told you that.

[self-dx-culture-is]

self dx culture is oh god what if im wrong. what if im being dramatic. what if nothing is wrong with me. what if im being a hypochondriac again. what if im wrong oh god what if im wrong.

felt

[alexthesillybilly]

news flash: being disemboweled by my f/o (probably) wont fix me