[Starter for the nightmare RP for asktimaeustherapist under the cut. The dream itself is a bit disturbing, if I do say so myself, which shouldn't be that much of a problem for most people who have read Homestuck (Do i need to bring up Gamzee and Eridan's little freakouts?), but I'm sticking it under a readmore just in case.]
You hear a crushing darkness and feel a terrible calm. There is a stillness in this void, a deafening, all-encompassing silence, the likes of which you'd never even imagined before. You feel so small out here in the vast nowhere. So... tiny. So insignificant against the backdrop of an impossible nothing. It is two parts humbling and three parts terrifying, this solitude you find yourself in. How long have you floated here, adrift in the dark? A moment or two? Hours? Weeks? Eons? For all you know you have known nothing since the dawn of Time itself.
Then with all the fanfare of a flipped lightswitch you see, and wish for the void to take you again.
Corpses. The stench of blood and decay strikes you as a physical blow, and you double over and have to force down the bile and revulsion that rises to your throat like the moans of the dying. Bones crack underfoot, and the bodies of the dead or soon to be are piled high, strewn unceremoniously and uncaringly upon them. A rainbow of death stains your hands, your arms, everything, as though you have played in the still-warm lifeblood of those knocking, slow and steady like a funeral march, upon the door of Death.
Behind you bones snap and a ragged breaths tug at your ear. You turn, and a polished blade, gleaming a brilliant white, bites against the skin of your throat. Eyes burning crimson with rage and agony bore into your own, and when Dave finally speaks his voice is hoarse and raw.
"How could you," he whispers.
He lunges and the world shifts. Against your will you react, bleeding into the wind and reforming as the blade passes harmlessly through the blue breeze. With no command on your part your arm snaps up and snatches Dave's wrist. You feel your fingers tighten and squeeze until with a pained cry the sword falls from your friend's grasp and into your own.
You know what you are going to do an instant before you do it, and you scream out, but your body does not listen to your racing mind.
There is not fear in Dave's eyes when you drive the blade into his gut, only a smoldering hate and a crushing guilt. You think you see a solitary tear begin to form in the corner of his eye before you turn away.
He slumps, fallen, and your body leaves his to the crows.
You rage, writhing and thrashing against the prison that is your own skin, but you are powerless. Chained to the confines of your mind by some terrible thing, you can only watch as you dance upon the bones like a sick puppet alone on a lonely string. You can only watch as Jade's mask of righteous fury slowly warps into one of fear into one of heartbreak as magazine after magazine is emptied in your direction.
She hits nothing but air, and her skull makes a sick, wet crunch as it is caved in.
An eternity passes, and your torture never dares to cease. Your body continues its slow walk amongst the dead, and within you weep, helpless as you quarter Kanaya with her own chainsaw, as Terezi suffocates in an airless vacuum, as Karkat's spine shatters against your hammer.
Rose's skin in purest black when you find her, sparking with a power eldritch and unfathomable. She roars in tongues unknown as dark magic dances across your skin and bounces off of it.
You die inside when you stab her, the blade piercing her chest as it had so long ago. The white glow of power fades from her eyes as she looks down at the killing blow. She lifts her head and meets your eyes, and some part of you knows her face will haunt you until the end of your days.
She whispers "Murderer" as she dies.
At the edge of that infinity your body pauses. A wicked smirk plays at lips that are not your own, and you kneel, observing the body that heaves with labored, dying breaths. It looks unflinchingly into your eyes, searching for the person it once knew within them.
"Son," the corpse whispers, as though the word is all but forgotten to them. "Why?"
And then with all the fanfare of a closed door you awake to a crushing darkness and a bitter, silent stillness and you howl.
Your name is JOHN EGBERT.
