Trigger warnings: mentions of cheating, death, grief, self-loathing.
Carter pinches the window latch between his thumb and forefinger and unlocks it with a small squeak from the rust, and pushes. The warmth of Aurora Bay’s spring sun kisses his forearm as the aroma of his mother’s garden fills his lungs. The nostalgia hits him like a punch to the gut as he mourns the life his mother is still trying to hold onto. It doesn’t seem fair that while she’s in bed, sick, he gets to live a normal life- he, his siblings, and his father. Why couldn’t it have been his father?, he thinks, causing a painful twist of guilt in his stomach. It feels like an internal battle, dealing with this grief. Life is fleeting and he knows this painfully well now. Sometimes he wishes it would just happen rather than waking up in the morning with the anxiety that his mother is gone. But then he’d finally have to accept that he would need to get used to nights without watching his mother’s favorite movies with her, or talking to her about Gianna, or seeing the smile on her face when she tells him how beautifully he played his piano for her.
If it weren’t for her, he may have never touched those keys again. Carter looks over his shoulder at the grand piano in the middle of the room. The sunlight from the floor to ceiling windows lights up his path to its bench while the sound of the waves down the beach fill the room. He knows she’s waiting for him to play a song, and he wonders if she knows how hard it is sometimes. This grand piano reminds him of his father tearing his acceptance letter to Juilliard. It reminds him of all his hard work and hours playing, painfully working to be the pianist in his school’s orchestra, the thrill of being accepted into a school with such high expectations… all of it wasted. With all of that aside, this grand piano also has him asking himself, would this be the last time he played his mother’s favorite songs? Once she was gone, would his love for playing pass away with her?
Carter’s fingertips brush over the glossy keys before he settles them in their correct positions for the first song he’ll play. And as his fingers push the keys and make this grand piano sing, only one word comes to mind as he thinks about himself; wasted. Wasted potential. Wasted precious time hating his older brother, wasted Gianna’s love, wasted himself on someone else when he cheated on her. And now life felt like it was moving too fast. As he plays, eyes reading the notes of his sheet music as his fingers dance across the keys, Carter knows the only thing he can do now is live and love as desperately as time feels like it’s running from him.
Highkey curious as to what Ray's reaction would be to seeing MC dighing through the rubble and finding him, then calling out to Seven and V that they found him.
I think he would he happy to see MC, but angry seeing Seven and V
Ray had accepted that this was his end. His eyes were blurry with tears and he couldn’t even remember your features completely, but he knew that he had the sound of your voice.
Right before he felt his vision go dark and a pain enveloped every part of his body, he accepted that this would be the last time that he would have the chance to be close to you.
That was why couldn’t die without letting you know the truth.
You needed to know how he felt, as selfish as that was, but he needed you to know how much he adored you and cherished your smile all this time. Even if everyone forgot about him and the world continued to spin on its axis, he knew that in your memory, you would have that at least.
You would be the only one to know who he was, and he was okay with that. It was you. The only person that he had ever loved and the only person that he would ever love.
Even though the darkness welcomed him in its warm embrace, he felt himself drifting between agony and numbness. He supposed that was to be expected, his heart had always doubted that he would ever touch heaven.
If this was hell, it was well earned.
If this was the price of his crimes, he wished that he could take it all back. He wished that he had fought harder for you, fought harder for himself, but he was so weak that he accepted this. He accepted the pain as punishment for what he had done.
There was no point.
Yet, now that he was breathing each and every breath with the taste of fire, ash, and brimstone, all he wanted to do was wipe away that choice. There was no changing what he had done so he had to accept the pain that took hold of his body with no remorse.
Ray wanted to scream and lash out from the pain but he felt trapped, his breath struggling to make even and the excruciating stupor that he found himself lost in only stroked the misery he was feeling. Was this his punishment? Was this what he earned?
Was this all his life had been leading to?
This was the worst feeling that he had ever experienced in his entire life, even from the burn of the elixir in his veins and the feeling of a rope digging into the skin of his ankles. This was nothing compared to that. If it was hell, it was the hell that he would suffer forever with no reprieve.
All that Ray could think of was the pain.
Only the pain.
Just the pain.
He wasn’t sure how long he was enveloped in the darkness or how long he felt like he was awake to the misery only to pass out again before it started all over again. He would cycle in and out of the burning pain over and over again with no second to breathe.
His life had been a cruel joke, hadn’t it?
He was pleading to whatever God that existed in this universe to please give him mercy. End his suffering. End it all. Wipe him from existence, he would rather be nothing than suffering from something. His croaked pleas fell on no one, just as knew that they would. Of course, they did. This was his fate and this was his eternity.
Somewhere in the midst of his cloudy hazy, more and more light started to flood his vision. It confused him, but he could nothing but stare with bleary eyes at the note of sunlight. The blue sky became visible, but he couldn’t move his body, as if it was a cruel trick played on him by the vengeful God that hated him from the moment he breathed.
Giving him a taste of what he could never see.
That blue sky.
His breath hurt whenever he sucked in, shallow and sharp, trying to keep it short as he could to avoid the feeling of his lungs filled with soot and ash. He stared at the sky, and then, something changed. The time that he had been trapped within started to fade.
His darkness faded, the pain didn’t leave, but the weight pressed on top of him started to fade. Something touched him, something brushed against his arm and it made him mentally flinch. His body was too exhausted to fight against the hell he belonged in.
And that’s when Ray heard it.
“—here! Over here! Please, come and help! I think I found him! I can’t get this up by myself, come on, come on, Ray, please! He’s still alive!” fresh air flooded his lungs and he found himself staring at you, eyes fraught with tears as you moved to pull rubble from his body.
Ray couldn’t feel your hand touch him, nor did he have any use of his voice. He was seeing you, seeing you crying over him as if you had come back to try and save him from his hell.
What a cruel trick, what a cruel God, he thought. This is worse than suffocating on ash. Yet, you were clutching at him as he strained to make out your figure.
Oh, Ray’s brain began to twist and turn, what if God was punishing him by making him see what happened after he died. What a cruel God to make him see you cry over his body like this. What an evil God to force him to see you cry over him with many gentle tears he didn’t deserve for hurting you.
“You’re okay, you’re going to be okay,” he could hear your voice, but it sounded like it was underneath the surface of the water. “Ray, please, hang on, please, stay with me. I can’t— I can’t lose you!”
When he felt your tears splash against his cheek, that’s when the cogs in his brain realized that his agony was because he wasn’t dead. He had failed at even trying to remove himself from this world. He failed everything he ever set out to try and now you were suffering because of him again.
His light, his angel, his world...
Sympathy?
A second chance?
Then, the taste of heaven on his lips was removed just as quickly as it had started to come into view. He heard the sounds of someone else, of someone(s) that took away everything from him. He saw them, he saw them standing behind you, he saw the liar, and he saw the traitor standing together.
You were with the two of them, they were with you, they were there with you, this wasn’t heaven. They had come to finish things. He was in danger, this pain was one thing but his fear was another. No, no, no, no, no!
This was hell.
This was his hell.
Let me die, let me die, let me die, he pleaded once more. Panic scourged his veins and he felt the pain and the dread beginning to pool together into a fit of anger and fear. He wanted to scream, he wanted to lash out, he wanted to get rid of those two before they hurt you, and before they would hurt you like they hurt him! All his suffering, all this pain—
It was their fault!
It was their fault!
Make it stop.
Make it STOP.
Ray wanted to scream to make it all end, the pain, the fear, the agony, the swirling confusion of misery. He prayed for the darkness and not even the worried sound of your voice had been enough to stop him from collapsing in exhaustion to his wounds.
OOC: Anyone else feeling this crippling grip of inadequacy and worthlessness?... No? Just me? Heh, heh, okay, I’m just gonna hide in a hole. I’m trying to force myself to continue with stuff, because I’ve been doing better with getting things done from my drafts. It’s just...yeah. One of these days, I just wish I’d feel good enough for ANYTHING. Not fishing for compliments, and I’ll be fine, I just...I hate feeling this way and pretending I’m okay IRL.
tw // depression, angsty af, isolation, self-loathing
also ttm spoilers,,
so yeah this was that angsty little bit I wrote
Rayla’s fists clenched tightly. The red marks left on her hands hurt, but not any more than the pain inside. She had always known that alone was her destiny. First, her parents leaving. Then, Ethari and the rest of her village ghosting her. And finally, her inability to stick around others that loved her.
The thoughts came quickly. She deserved this feeling of pain. It was welcome. A reminder that it was time to admit to herself that it was always going to be her and only her.
Her parents didn’t choose to stay. She didn’t choose to stay. Who was she to deserve love and care and support when she was the one that left? Rayla didn’t understand herself at all. She knew she loved Callum. She knew she loved Ezran. She knew they had both stuck with her through her worst moments. And yet, she couldn’t just let it be. She couldn’t believe that anyone would stay, that anyone would come for her. To her, she was the broken mess that always ran.
Dream groaned softly as he turned on his eye lights, rubbing his temples with a couple of finger tips in the vain hope of being able to banish the massive headache he'd suddenly acquired. He frowned a little in utter confusion as he realized that he was in a ten by ten foot room with three walls made out of stone, the other wall made of stone and sporting a massive and beautiful stained-glass window. He'd apparently been sitting on a high backed chair at a huge wooden desk. There were papers everywhere and he'd realized that he'd dropped a quill pen when he'd rubbed his temples, the nib of the light brown feather stained black, but the ink was dry.
He stoppered the half-full bottle of ink, standing up as he reached out with his magic, trying to figure out where Nightmare was - who likely wouldn't be far. Unless he'd gone down to the village in order to prank some of the mortals who lived there for the slights and cruelties that they had visited upon him. Dream was fairly sure that things might improve if the other knocked that off - but he knew that Nightmare wasn't going to allow the villagers to walk all over him... Dream had tried to talk to them about their treatment of Nightmare, but it was a circular argument, as they protested that they only treated his other half that way because of his antisocial nature coupled with his (at times) cruel pranks... Which Nightmare said he only did in retaliation due to their insults and attempts to hurt him.
There was a distinct absence of his other half's magic. And not just that the other was trying to hide his signature from him, or had wandered far in their timeline. Dream couldn't sense Nightmare anywhere within the timeline. Panic clawed through his soul as he teleported to the tree, freezing in shock as in it's place was a massive stump, cut down and leveled. His trembling finger tips grazed against the outer bark, trying to process just what the hell he'd seen. The last thing he remembered was... Was -
Dream let out a quiet cry of pain as his knees buckled, clutching his head as decades worth of memories rushed through his mind all at once.
"I must do this in order to bring peace and justice to everyone, Nightmare. You'll understand soon." Dream called out as he pulled the first Positive Apple off of the tree, consuming it before his other half could do more than stare.
"Dream, what the fuck are you doing? We're supposed to protect the tree and the apples, not eat them!" Nightmare had sputtered in response, charging towards him and trying to drag him away.
He had shoved the other aside, quickly scrambling up the tree as he consumed apple after apple, He needed them all - in order to have the power necessary in order to protect everyone. To s a v e everyone.
That was the last clear memory he had. The too-sweet flesh of the golden fruit on his tongue, even as Nightmare begged him to stop, frozen in place as he watched him go against everything that the two of them had created for. But how had he somehow changed all of the negative apples to positive ones? It didn't make sense. Another memory hit him, causing Dream to whimper softly.
Power flowed through him, as fury filled his soul at the fact that Nightmare had dared to eat one of the turned-positive fruits. All of them were supposed to be his! For that betrayal - along with the fact that this dark creature created and caused Negativity wherever It went, it needed to d i e. He summoned his weapon - a huge, gleaming claymore "You create misery and cause suffering... For that you will die."
Shock, horror and hurt crash through Nightmare's aura and across his face "D-Dream... P-Please you don't... You d-don't need to do that..." The other's voice was a quivering whisper as tears streamed down the other's face. "I-I don't... I'm not..." Nightmare yelped and dodged as Dream swung the long and heavy sword at the other, the blow too slow due to the change in weight in his hands. Nightmare teleported away before Dream could try to attack the other a second time.
A snarl left Dream's lips a he slashed at the air where Nightmare had been moments before. He'd hunt the other down after he practiced with the new weapon he had in his possession. That and he suspected that his body would be changing as it fully absorbed the powers of the 198 apples that he had consumed. Two of them were missing. One dark apple was in that idiot chicken of Nightmare's, the other (it had been changed to a positive apple) his miserable traitor of a mate had stolen for himself. No matter, the other's power gain would be paltry in comparison to Dream's own.
Fantastic. While he had thought and wondered about what might happen if he consumed the positive apples - the information he'd been reading speculating that one would gain a great deal of magical power and insight into how other beings worked... Dream hadn't realized that he'd given into that particular impulse.
Worse yet, his very first act while drunk on the power of far too many positive apples than were ever meant to truly exist was to attack his other half while accusing Nightmare of something that was blatantly untrue. Dream could sense mortals approaching his location and cursed lowly, spinning around and nearly falling over, realizing that one of the things that had changed (in addition to the glowing magical wings he now possessed) was that he'd gained at least a foot in height - completely throwing off his center of balance.
How long has it been, since Dream had been in full command of himself? What the hell had he been doing in that time? Given... Given the fact that he had very firm memories of an entire stars-damned fortress being built on his orders... That would have taken at least two decades at minimum? Dream teleported back to the room he'd first found himself in, frantically rifling through the seemingly endless piles of paperwork, trying to piece together what the hell was going on, along with the foggy memories that hurt whenever he recognized the name of one of the mortals he'd recruited to do something, knees buckling as his world was repeatedly shattered at it's foundations.
Dream paused for a moment when he found the file on Nightmare. There were reports on what timelines the other had been in - blurry photographs and a supposed list of crimes that his other half had been accused of. On a list of mass-murderers and vile villains who had killed, maimed and tortured dozens if not hundreds of beings... Nightmare was number one. And the only reason that Dream could come up with why his other half was on that list was because he was hunting the other. He wanted to find Nightmare in order to... To... According to the report he was planning on having his scientists experiment on their soul bond, as well as to attempt to study the nature of the other's negative spirit...
Either in an attempt to figure out how to split the fate-bond that was entirely unique in the multiverse known to them all... Or to forcibly change Nightmare from a negative spirit into a positive one... Horror floods through Dream's soul and aura at the clinical notes that have already been taken on both of these potential ideas... From what he can tell, it's from studies done on Dream's own side of their bond and what makes up a positive spirit... But he can't tell for sure.
At this moment, at least, Nightmare isn't captured by Justice Reigns (which is the name of the organization that he leads, apparently. Because that doesn't scream dictatorial high-handedness at all). "Thank all the stars in the sky..." Dream whispers to himself at that, body shaking a little at the thought of Nightmare undergoing such torturous tests and knowing that it was by Dream's own command... One of the main reasons why he'd been tempted to eat the apples in the first place, was to make sure that the villagers would stop tormenting Nightmare.
Dream has to stop going through the file on Nightmare, his hands shaking, as the disgust, fear and pain in his soul is too much for him to bear. Thankfully, there is a smaller room off of this one, with a bed in it. The positive guardian activates the sound-proofing spells in this bedroom before he grabs one of the pillows and screamed into it until his voice gave out on him, noting absently that he'd also soaked the pillow in his tears of horror and self-revulsion at what he had done to Nightmare... What he had planned for his other half, who didn't deserve any of that.
He has no idea where in the multiverse his other half is... But he really hopes that Nightmare is safe and at least content, if not happy. Dream continues to sort through the files, re-learning a great deal of information. He freezes when he realizes that the favored method of dealing with criminals... What he personally decided and decreed to his loyal followers... Was that those who created negativity and suffering were to die. Executed publicly. Another shudder of horror runs through him and Dream is struck by a cold realization at what these notes imply. He turns off his eye lights, taking in and slowly letting out a couple of deep, calming breaths before he Checks himself.
Ten. He has an LV of ten. How many monsters and humans has he killed in order to even get an LV that high? How much blood and dust is on his hands? More horror and revulsion fills him and Dream rushes to the trash can, just barely managing to pull it close to him before he heaved up the contents of his stomach. Dream continued to heave long after there was nothing left, shuddering and gasping a little as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that he had killed dozens of people in order to get the LV he was currently at... From what he had read of the records of Justice Reigns, they had a no-tolerance policy when it came to certain kinds of criminals... Murderers being one such type. He did catch that there were some beings who had been rehabilitated somehow... Although Dream was, quite frankly, terrified at the thought of what constituted as rehabilitation by the draconian and ruthless organization that he lead. Not just lead, but had built from the ground up.
Dream suspected that some of the more stable murderers hadn't been killed... But recruited on the sly and either brainwashed or straight up offered a deal - service or death. Which was nauseating and he wondered how many of the people under his command were aware of this. The positive guardian genuinely couldn't guess and... He'd have to continue to go through personnel and intelligence files in his room, to gain some sort of insight as to just what sort of organization he was truly running - as well as have a guess as to just who might be aware of everything, and... And what the hell he was going to do now.
If he could do whatever he wanted, Dream would immediately run after Nightmare, to desperately try to find the other and apologize for all of the shit he'd put the other through... The soul-deep betrayal that he had committed against his beloved and promise that he'd never hurt the other in such an awful way ever again. The positive spirit wanted to order an edict or proclaim or whatever the hell it was that he did when he wanted to inform his people to stop chasing down Nightmare... That they weren't going to immediately kill all criminals who did certain things but...
Such a deep and sudden reversal of policies would be seen as suspicious, and he suspected, wouldn't be taken well by the populace that he had a great deal of influence over... Or rather, that Justice Reigns had influence over. The people who reported directly and immediately to him might suspect that he had been blackmailed- or perhaps replaced entirely. Which wasn't true. But for the first time in...
For fuck's sake he'd been... He'd been out of his mind and drunk on power for... For over thirty years. How the hell had no one tried to stand up against him? Dream grimaced a little as flashes of memories of those foolish enough to oppose him crashed through his mind.
A stubborn-looking Toriel, her hands alight with fire as she attacked him with all that she had. The poor boss-monster had no idea how truly out-classed she was. Her dust stained his claymore three turns later. A regrettable loss, but as she had been the leader of her people, her falling to his blade was the tipping point.
A Sans who had snapped, slaughtering every monster who he could find in his timeline, in the desperate attempt to get strong enough to kill the human who had been destroying them over and over again, through countless timelines. The human's battered and black-stained red soul fluttered between the two of them weakly as Dream fought and dodged the mortal. He put up a good fight, but the other's soul cracked and crumbled in the positive spirit's fist six turns later.
A dozen royal guards-monsters from an Underfell timeline attack Dream and his team en-mass. The positive guardian stops and sends a pulse of pure magic their way, causing the startled and positivity-deprived monsters to collapse in the snow, shaking at the onslaught of false emotions. Their deaths were swift, a mercy that those guards would not have seen fit to give Dream or his people.
He whispered to himself, hiding his face in his hands, voice rough from the screaming earlier "What... What sort of demon of light have I become? And what should I do now?" He struggled with the despair and disgust that welled up in his soul at what he'd done - what he'd ordered others to do. Yes, there was a great deal of good that Justice Reigns was doing... But it was built on the blood and dust of dozens if not hundreds of sentient beings. That needed to change... But such a dramatic change needed to be gradual, and Dream would need to figure out who would stay loyal through this change, and who he would need to actually rehabilitate and put into therapy (including himself, quite frankly... As well as who might need more drastic measures.
Dream desperately wished that he had Nightmare at his side. He could only imagine what the other's reaction to how much work and effort this was going to take... His mate might roll on the floor laughing at the mess he'd gotten himself into... If it wasn't for the awful betrayal he'd committed against the other. No, best not to try to pursue Nightmare just yet - especially as he had no idea if he would be able to continue to keep his mind, or if... If whatever had taken hold of his mind might try to do so again.
Not that he was going to surrender to that sort of madness again. Not ever again, if he could at all help it. Small steps at first, and the first thing that he needed to do was to figure out what "he" had been planning to do for the day - whether or not anyone was going to be expecting him in any meetings, and if so where that might be (and perhaps in which timelines, as JR's reach apparently extended to quite a few timelines, from the information he was able to gather, along with what his scattered memories were telling him).
Dream shifted through the piles of paperwork - as he was pretty sure that he'd seen some sort of daily planner of sorts. At least his alternate ego or whatever the hell had been piloting his body and using his magic had been organized - as otherwise it would make this a lot harder, given the way that the paperwork and the files had been neatly arranged. If he wasn't so horrified by what he'd done, Dream would appreciate the meticulous way that all of this had been done.
He'd just found the damn thing, trying to figure out what day it might be, when there was a light knock on the door - and Dream could sense someone behind it. Shit. From what he could tell, his... He hadn't been too different from who he really was... Just considerably more ruthless than he truly was. He took a sip of water and used a bit of healing magic on his throat so that he could call out without his voice sounding hoarse or strained "Yes? Come in please."
A tall dog-monster walked in, nodding respectfully. The other was wearing a collar with a circular gold pin with the letters JR in the middle of the circle. His name was... C... Cha... Champion? A good and loyal supporter of his. Willing to fight, but not bloodthirsty. "You asked me to come and get you when the backers from timelines US-22 through USF 99 arrived? They've all arrived and have settled into the guest quarters."
Come on, Dream. Think! He thought to himself What was the plan for the day? Outwardly he nodded, standing up and stating calmly "Thank you for informing me of this, Champion. They traveled rather far, so I think I shall let them have a brief respite before speaking to them." That sounded reasonable... Right?
Champion didn't react outwardly, though there was a small twinge of surprise in the other's emotional aura. He nodded obediently "Yes sir, I'll inform them of that. The USF delegations in particular will be grateful for your generosity. If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave?"
Dream nodded, sending the other a small smile "That is all. Thank you."
"Yes boss." Champion acknowledged, the dog-monster's tail wagged a little, and his emotional aura perked up at the praise (which was adorable in the positive spirit's opinion), the other's ears pricking attentively towards him. The other was almost out of his office before he paused, and turned to look over one shoulder at him "How long should I tell them they have to rest before you'll meet with them, Lord Dream?"
That last moniker sent a spike of pain driving straight through the center of Dream's skull. he was very grateful that the other didn't seem to notice his ever so slight flinch. He hummed for a moment "Oh... Three hours? Tell me if they seem truly exhausted. I wouldn't wish to push them if they need more rest."
"Yes sir, understood." With that the dog monster left, not in the least bit suspicious that Dream had changed at all, if the other's emotional aura was anything to go off of.
Spectacular. He had just bought himself at least three hours to figure out what the hell that upcoming meeting was supposed to be about. Dream really hoped that he'd have enough of a clue not to tip off everyone around him that something had changed... They may not feel it is a good one and try to change him back.
And like hell was he going to let those torturous experiments happen to Nightmare - or for them to continue if his beloved ever really had been captured by his addled self.
No. He couldn't cry more. Not at the pain and misery he suspected he had put the love of his eternal life through. Not for the dozens of beings whose dust and blood permanently stained his hands and soul. All Dream could do was look to the future and try to make sure that Justice Reigns was a true source of positive change and true stability in the multiverse.
So now that we know how time works in the afterlife, and now that we have lines like “You and I, we were never good for that server” and “I know what I’m like, that’s the issue” confirming that c!Wilbur is still in the very unhealthy mindset of self-villainization and self-hatred that he had when he died, how’s everyone feeling with the fact that c!Wilbur canonically has spent roughly ten years nearly isolated in an empty void with absolutely nothing except his own extreme (and worsening) self-loathing, the belief that he was so horrible he deserved death, and the belief that there was nothing good about him that he brought to the server and therefore all of the bad events on the server were his fault! And apart from the occasional card game, he has nothing to do except constantly let these negative beliefs completely consume his thoughts for, once again, ten years! :D
they're arguing again and i'm scared that she'll hit me and take away my only coping mechanisms that keep me semi-functional and not suicidal
i have so much to do, so many expectations i can't live up to, so little time for everything and i'm mentally ill and tired and my best will never be enough
