#suicidal idealism

[shadowtraveled]

"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.

but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)

mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…

the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.

every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.

first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic

which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.

which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.

the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.

walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?

well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.

you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?

it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.

when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.

and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.

kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.

yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.

[starwrighter]

I have a cold and that’s scarier than anything I could write this October. Tw suicidal idealizations

So! 3/??? Halloween prompt.

Danny is in Gotham because his sister was invited to tour some prestigious school in Gotham because of how smart she is. Danny’s not resentful, truly he isn’t. He’s proud of her. He’s happier for her than he’s ever been for anyway. It’s just… Hard knowing the future his death stole from him.

Seeing his sister succeed while he still has to fight to keep what little remained of his life is bittersweet. He’d never say any of this out loud because he loves her and she’s one of the only people he can truly count on to support him.

After a few days in Gotham with all these bitter and depressing thoughts Danny start to believe that he needs to die. He doesn’t want to kill himself he just… Wants to not be Fenton or phantom anymore. He doesn’t want be the stupid failure of a kid in a family full of geniuses. He doesn’t want to be seen as a villain or hunted for trying to help people. He’s just so, so so so tired and just want’s to not deal with any of this anymore.

Danny goes ghost for the first time since entering this city. Sitting on a roof with his head tucked in between his legs. When he hears someone drop behind him going on this whole spiel on “Not jumping,” it strikes him as odd because the usual response to seeing phantom is anything but compassion. Danny waves the guy off with a mournful smile and a reassurance of “I think you’re a bit too late to save my life, most that’d happen now is me phasing through the core of the earth”

The guy sits next to him, shocked when his attempts of patting Danny’s shoulder passes right through. Danny can’t help but snicker. “Don’t worry about me I’m still new to the whole ghost thing,” he looks disturbed at Danny’s response but not in the way people usually did when they saw phantom. He introduces himself as nightwing and Danny finally recognizes him as one of Gotham’s vigilantes.

“How do you do it?” The question spills out of his mouth bitterness leaking into his words. Nightwing looks confused.

“Everyone loves you guys, everyone trust’s you,” his eyes water as he speaks

“No matter how many people I save, how many buildings I stop from collapsing and criminals I stop, they still paint me as this monstrous villain,”

“I can’t believe I died for this shit,” Danny scowls, Nightwing is speechless. Danny then decides that he doesn’t want to be turned in to the GIW by a vigilante and dips.

Dick and the entire fam who were listening to the entire encounter are horrified because apparently there is a child who fucking died being a vigilante and people are attacking for it?! They make the connection with the ghost dick talked to and phantom but not the connection between phantom and Danny Fenton. Danny is very confused when the entire justice league comes down on amity park the moment they get home.

[tubborucho]

Tubbo and Badboyhalo – I look in the mirror and remember when I saw/know that I will see you as a reflection

taglist: @pastelvangelion @smallz-o @salineroses @dynamicworms @cindersnows @deadfishisyeq @snyland @missstrawberry @frubbotoxicyuri @haloberry @thecardboardbutterfly @avianchorus @qtubbo @an-egghead @kadextra

dm me if you want in or out of taglist

credits:

1. https://pin.it/1nZjUdS

2. N/A

3. @.dvoyd

4. “So Far So Good: Final Poems” Ursula K. Le Guin

5. “Broken Hierarchies: Poems” Geoffrey Hill

6. “House of Earth and Blood” Sarah J. Maas

7. @.warpromised

8. “How to Cure a Ghost” Fariha Róisín

9. “Dance Dance Dance (The Rat, #4) Haruki Murakami

10. @.aesterismos

11. https://pin.it/1afKWH0

12. https://pin.it/23agLaj

13. https://pin.it/1Bdwsi6

14. “My Year of Rest and Relaxation” Ottessa Moshfegh

15. @.ostolero and @.charlotteinfinityxx

16. darkoceans, the washed up collection

17. https://pin.it/3jictRn

18. twt: @.yuriando

19. “English Song” Fernando Pessoa

20. “Prayer for the Newly Damned” Ocean Vuong

21. @.mjalti

[fuckingwhateverdude]

do you have a plan?

[conceptofjoy]

rose was fucking miserable thinking she deserved to be piloting the moon, but she didnt WANT to fucking kill herself. bro strider you fucked up sooooo bad

[infinitexmuses-archive]

@kitxkatrp from here

She didn't think too much about the fact that she had been pulled away from anything, she didn't even realize she had nearly gotten hit. Hell, even if she did notice, she likely wouldn't have cared. No one should be driving in this weather anyways.

Her clothes and body felt cold as if she had been in this weather for hours. Her gaze managed to focus on the other, eventually. Even if she wasn't able to look at him properly at the moment. She was just focusing in on the voice, too mentally exhausted to properly focus. But the realization that someone was talking to her was kicking in, and she barely managed to comprehend what he was saying. ". . . I'm sorry."

She wouldn't want to die with other people around if it actually worked for once.

[mokutone]

your art makes me wanna start testosterone

i can't read tone well, so this is either an incredibly touching ask, or an extremely funny one, and in the absence of confirmation: both!

i'm in a chatty mood, so i'll share some thoughts about testosterone and my art.

i liked being on testosterone a lot. i had an IM injection every two weeks (on tuesdays!) and because that's a sizeable dose every 14 days that slowly disperses, it can cause some mood fluctuations (every other friday i would have a crisis about not feeling like the world had a place for me in it) but even those were far more manageable than the ones that would come with my previous and current monthly hormone cycle (every month i spend a solid week thinking the world will never have a place for me in it)

It gave me a patchy little bit of scruff on my chin and a whispy mustache under my nose that still struggles on, despite adversity!

It redistributed my fat a little bit, but that's long since gone back to pre-T shape.

it lowered my voice! that hasn't changed :^)! even if i never go back on t, that won't change. it was the thing i most wanted, and its the one i'm most grateful for. Pre-T, I didn't speak much. I'm getting better and better at talking and getting more and more comfortable communicating with people because of it.

having been off t now for 3 years, i don't pass anymore—not as a cis man, or a cis woman, certainly not as anything approximating straight. if people look at me and see anything, i'd hazard a guess that they see me as A Queer (the noun—for all it's complicated connotations).

i'm not surprised that my art might make somebody want to start testosterone! a lot of my art was made out of the aching grief that came with being kicked off of testosterone, and how neatly that loss of autonomy over my own body knits in with yamato's loss of autonomy over his own.

how my body started doing things i disliked, how i didn't have the support necessary to access the healthcare i needed—how my inability to give myself what i needed made me feel as though i were trapped inside of myself and abandoned (by both myself and the world at large)

when i write comics about yamato as a trans man, i don't take away his testosterone, because that hits a little too close to home for me. for Ninja War Town Reasons, he has plenty of access to all the HRT he could ever need and nobody questions his need for it—instead, i project my own horrors onto the way Danzō defined his identity for him as a child, the way that Kabuto and Obito dehumanize him as an adult in their war efforts, and reduce him to the thing his body holds (the Mokuton). I give him a kneejerk compulsion to dehumanize himself (out of a feeling that he has a duty to his community to do so) and I give him a slow-growing resistance to that impulse (which comes out of a feeling that the people he loves would frown upon seeing him reduce himself like that)

it's dysphoria! it's not gender dysphoria, but it's a loss of self, and a need to reclaim it. it's a war between the hollow shell of a thing he thinks he has to be, and the vibrant and messy person beneath it that he is. it's a desperate need to say "this is who i am—only i can say it"

I enjoyed HRT a lot. it was a really useful tool in helping me feel like my body was my own, that i didn't have to fight it, that we were the same entity. It's not the only tool, but it was a really good one, and one day I hope to use it again.

(as for the being off of it—it's unpleasant, but i'm enduring! being somebody who now doesn't really pass as anything has put me in a weird and interesting position, where I'm constantly having to declare myself to people, because nobody knows what to make of me on any front. they don't know if i'm a man, a woman, nonbinary, nor even what age i am (Augh!!!!) it forces me to be brave and vulnerable more than I'm comfortable with—if I tell somebody I'm a man, there's no way that they will believe I'm cis, but I'm not about to recloset myself—and I don't think I could at this point anyway.)

(there's something fascinating about the position i find myself in, and while i'd leap back on t the moment that an opportunity presented itself to do so, i do feel like i'm experiencing something interesting and important in this weird zone i find myself in)

[demonbarbers]

the 2023 revival obc kinda ruined me. you give me sopping wet kendall roy girldad little meow meow sweeney todd, you give me deliriously horny achingly human physical comedy queen lovett, you give me aging child star mischievous but heartbreakingly sweet toby, you give me a johanna who is finally not just a princess track or ~crazy~ and who’s trauma is deeply physically felt and is so deeply her father’s daughter, you give mee a sweeney and jo who are finally acknowledged as mirrors of each other and you give me literal hand in unloveable hand… and i’m just supposed to move on

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Whumptember day 28

“I never should have let it come this far” Failed hero | Hospital stay | Begging for help

Content warning: Some of Whumpee’s dialogue could sound like suicidal ideation. Self-harm in the form of overworking. 

Whumpee couldn’t sleep. They rarely could, but it was especially bad when they were stuck in the hospital. They felt useless, desperate to claw their way from underneath the covers and get something done. More than that however, Whumpee was being kept awake by an overwhelming feeling of dread. Though they knew it was childish, they felt like a little kid waiting for a scolding.

They tried not to flinch when Caretaker walked in.

“Oh thank god–,” Caretaker rushed to their side, falling into the bedside chair and grabbing their hand. They were panting slightly, as if they’d run all the way to the hospital. “I came as soon as I could; I was so worried when they said you collapsed. What happened?!”

It was the question Whumpee had dreaded hearing. Not that it mattered, because Caretaker already knew the answer. As soon as their brain caught up, as soon as they noticed the bags under Whumpee’s eyes and the ink stains on their fingers, they’d realize. Whumpee averted their gaze.

Sure enough, Caretaker’s expression fell. “Whumpee–,”

“I know, alright? I overdid it. We don’t need to have this argument again,” Whumpee cut them off, pulling their arm away.

Caretaker didn’t look convinced. “We clearly do. You’re supposed to be in recovery Whumpee, not spending all day running yourself ragged. When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep? The last time you ate an actual meal?”

“I’m fine. I can do all that once this is over, and it won’t be until Whumper is caught.”

Caretaker sighed, some of the frustration in their expression fading. “We all want to see them caught, but we don’t know when that’s going to happen. You can’t put your recovery on hold for something that could take years.”

Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut, cursing themselves were the spike of terror that ran through them at the thought. Years. It could take years to find Whumper. What if Whumper found them first?

The beeping of Whumpee’s heart monitor sped up. Caretaker was kind enough not to mention it.

“You’re hurting yourself, and I can’t just watch you do it.” Caretaker’s voice wavered. “Do you know how scared I was when the hospital called me? Terrified. I thought,–I was so scared that something horrible had happened to you. You have to understand how much it hurts me to see you like this.”

Whumpee did understand, and they hated it. They hated making Caretaker worry, hated being the reason for their tears. It gnawed at Whumpee, making them feel guilt for something they had to do. They had to find Whumper.

Whumpee’s eyes stung, a shiver running down their spine. They bit their lip. “I should have never let it come this far. The reason I have to do this is because–,” because they’d been a coward. They’d been so terrified of Whumper, so terrified of everything, that they couldn’t bring themselves to leave the comfort of their bed. They’d wasted so much time. “--because I was being lazy. If I’d acted sooner, Whumper wouldn’t have had the chance to get so far. Now I have to catch up.”

“Lazy? Whumpee, you were recovering! You should still be recovering. You went through something horrible; nobody expects you to just be fine afterwards,” They could hear the tears in Caretaker’s voice. Caretaker grabbed their hand again, and this time Whumpee didn’t pull away. “Just–look at me.”

Whumpee did. Tears dripped down Caretaker’s face, their expression pleading. Whumpee could feel them shaking. “You’re killing yourself Whumpee, and I can’t watch it happen!” Caretaker shouted, choking back tears. “I can’t lose you again, not after everything that’s happened!”

Whumpee couldn’t stand to see them like this. “I’m right here, you’re not losing anything.

Caretaker shook their head. They held Whumpee tighter, as if terrified that they’d vanish right before them. “Please Whumpee, you have to stop this.”

But Whumpee knew they couldn’t stop. Not yet, maybe not ever.

At least if they were dead, Whumpee thought as Caretaker sobbed, they wouldn’t have to be so afraid of Whumper anymore.

[ozlices]

James Somerton just renamed his channel to 'James of Telos' so it doesn't show up when you search his name anymore.

i find that highly suspect honestly. but im searching him up on google rn and apparently ppl are concerned bc he posted a suicide note????? WHAT is going on anymore man

[thelizaport]

That Neil Gaiman quote but GOmens

"I would softly and silently vanish and my name would be erased from the book of life" has been rolling around in my brain for a month and it was a freaking joke response to an ask for bts on sandman. Mr. Gaiman, respectfully, wtf.

Anywho, I turned it into a silly lil Good Omens comic so enjoy!

[kim-poce]

Late At Night

CW: Cigarette, suicide idealization mention

They didn't see the sunset, by the time their tired legs walked outside the sky was black. Two or three lonely stars could barely be seen past the thick layer of whatever cites' air have that disconnect humanity from the skies.

Maybe it was the tiredness, perhaps it was relief, but the miserable sky couldn't be prettier than it was that night; the lens of optimism made them see pretend stars, and the moon was closer than ever in their delusions.

They lit it a cigarette, offering a drag to the winds before taking a big one themselves and spending the next minute or two coughing up. Their body was still not used to the recently picked up habit, but it would be. The scars all over it show how good it has been in adapting to harmful and frequent occurrences.

Smoking wasn't exactly pleasant, they did it half for the sake of proving to themselves they can do whatever they want. The other half was a compromise, a vow to themselves; they would not kill themselves in any other way.

They wondered if they should walk towards the brightest star, let it guide them towards the next change of pace. It's not like they had any better way to do it; that was their last day in the job, they had enough money to live for a couple more months and to afford that one tattoo they have been fantasying about for the past years.

No. They would start walking in the morning. It was late, they were tired. They offered another drag to the winds, laughed as if someone had just told a joke.

"Do you want to hear it?" They asked the nothing (the everything). They were sat down on the sidewalk no one walks by, back leaning on a broken street sign, eyes staring at nothing. "Let's make a deal; I tell you what led me here, and you guide me towards the next stop."

They waited for a second after smiling a sly smug.

"You better keep your side of the deal," they lit another cigarette, leaned their head back and closed their eyes, "It all started when this guy make the bad decision of.."

[bl0nd3brun3tt3]

Cinema sights

[zeb-z]

bad who is ready and willing to go full scorched earth, but at the same time, knows that what he’s doing is hurting people. he knows he’s hurting who he loves, he knows he probably will have to do much worse, or at least is convinced of such. it’s not so much he doesn’t care, but more so that he cares more about results, so he’s willing to cause that hurt. doing what’s necessary - and anything is necessary so long as it gets his kids back.

but he’s hurting, and hurt people hurt people. hurt people hurt themselves. he’s taken to torturing himself as a penance for this guilt that just keeps building. he’s doing things that he knows are shocking and extreme, and it’s not showing results. every day he cannot find the kids is a day he takes personally because he feels he has failed them. he hurts those he cares about, he hurts those who are innocent, and he’s going to keep doing so - so he’s going to hurt himself to make it fair.

but he doesn’t see that his suffering is what’s causing the most suffering for those he loves. he’s stuck in this cycle of guilt and blame and unending misery, and he can’t let himself take the hands of those that are trying desperately to pull him out because he cannot face it himself.

he’s got a one track mind on vengeance and he himself is as much a target as those he’s hunting down.

[rubberduckyrye]

So, a friend of mine showed me a "Kokichi Defense" video that mentioned one of my metas a couple of times. And while I watched it mainly to see if they referenced me anywhere else (and just for the shits and giggles), it does remind me of my own theories regarding Kokichi... and how a part of me st ill feels like I never quite finished analyzing his character as shown on screen.

I wrote a LOT about certain aspects of him, about the things I saw in his character arc and story--but despite me not really knowing what else I could have added to the table, it still feels like I left things on a cliffhanger. Like there was more to dig but that I couldn't see, or got burnt out to the point everything was a bit of a blur.

However... There is one thing I do know I want to talk about, and it relates to my Mass Mercy kill Theory, and why I believe that Kokichi's actions towards the mercy killing were genuine. Something that I was thinking for a long minute about after I had watched the defense video. Not something related to Kokichi, but to my perspective on things, and why I came to the conclusion of his Mercy Killing plan being more genuine than others like to believe.

It's because... well, I know what it's like first hand.

I think I mentioned it on my original theory that I didn't want people to argue with me about the Mass Mercy Kill theory in general because of "personal reasons." Well, this is why--it's because I know what that despair is like personally.

When I lived with my parents, it was a horrible situation no matter where I went. Abuse left and right, degradation, dehumanization, helplessness, worthlessness, hopelessness--there was no "safe" place for me. Hell, I once considered it to be safer to be homeless than to live with my parents, and had to be talked out of it by my friend.

When faced with such a despair... suicidal thoughts are easy to come by. Yet I think this is why my perspective on Kokichi's actions in the 4th trial are different than most--because where I think a lot of people don't think about their motivations for their suicidal thoughts as deeply as "I was miserable/depressed", I took the time to analyze it extensively. I guess you can say the thoughts I had during those times were so terrifying that, as a coping mechanism, I wanted to know its source.

I wanted to know what made me think living wasn't worth while.

Self esteem issues are often a big culprit, but... my main source for these thoughts, they were just... a plea for release. The mercy of death. The hope of everything just, finally coming to an end--because suffering was pretty much all I knew, and thought I would only know.

Mercy killing was introduced to my life in the form of pets who grew old and had to be put down, so the concept to me wasn't anything new. I knew when my first dog died, because my parents didn't lie to me about it. They told me straight up they put her to sleep. I was probably like five or six when my first dog died.

So when I had these horrible thoughts, it was really easy for me to like, immediately know where the desire was. I was suffering, so thusly death must be my only answer.

It is, at its route, mercy. Even in its most fucked-up, twisted form of logic, it was still a desire for mercy.

I think that maybe that's why I think of Kokichi's actions in trial 4 to be a genuine attempt at a mass mercy kill plan. Because I saw myself in that situation, except in a situation that was far more miserable and far more dire. One where living would be truly meaningless.

From that perspective, everything made sense to me, because I already know that feeling well. It was easy to make the leap of "Mercy kill everyone before the find out the horrible truth" in logic because I knew where step one was.

I often have memory problems when I think about my time with my parents--the first twenty years of my life. My mind actively tries to forget how bad it truly was, just for a semblance of normalcy. Like, maybe it wasn't that bad, maybe I was the one in the wrong.

But... no. That's just the lie my mind tries to tell me when I can't remember the first 20 or so years of my life well.

But yeah, sorry for the downer of a post. I just kind of wanted to get my thoughts out on it before I forgot.

[lolsonic-idk-man]

Talk to Me: part 3

I'VE FINALLY DONE IT! like a week ago

Part 1, Part 2, part 4, part 5

It has around 3650 words so definitely the shortest chapter. Anyway, I've made my sister cry and I have some trigger warnings :D

TW: Suicidal idealization, Attempted self-harm, panic attacks.

How was Nightmare meant to feel?

Dream was crying, wailing the following day, sometimes sobbing words of discouragement to himself.

Nightmare would normally relish the idea of hearing Dream suffer, but…

No. Maybe the horrible turning in his chest was because he hadn't gotten the chance to see Dream's suffering. Yes, that had to be it, he wanted the true satisfaction of seeing Dream's suffering, not just hearing it.

Sci would more likely than not have some cameras that would do, somewhere in his lab. He would be sending Dust to pick up at least ten, he has had quite enough of Sci for a month.

In the meanwhile he and the rest of his men would survey Dream's hiding place after he made his return to the Omega Timeline.

Nightmare knew that Dream's place was probably massive,(Why wouldn't Dream pamper himself? He's the oh-so-loved guardian of positivity.) It was going to take a time to properly comb his house.

The sooner the better he supposed.

A quick study of the tracker's precise location before it went offline was all Nightmare needed for a portal of swirling negativity to open in front of him.

" So this is where the banana comes to be alone huh? " Nightmare's right hand said as they entered the small apartment. " Would have thought he would choose somewhere nicer, ya know, being the Guardian and all. " 

Horror granted an affirmative to Killer's note.

The apartment had only one room and a tiny bathroom that sat right next to an even smaller closet with three sets of Dream's usual drapings hanging and black strapless jumpsuits folded on the ground. A twin-sized mattress lay on the ground opposite the closet. A counter, sink, mirror that could be opened, and cupboard sat on the same wall as the door, facing the end of the mattress. 

Frankly, the worst part had to be the smell of mold that had wrenched itself into everything. (How did Dream not reak of mold? HE'S SLEPT HERE.)

Was this what Dream had let himself fall into? Did he truly live in such squalor? He came here to cry? Pity himself? Hide.

Didn't matter. All this did was make Nightmare's life easier. He could ambush Dream here, watch to find more weaknesses of his.

See? Nightmare could work with this. It's not like he cared about Dream's well-being, and it's not like Dream cared for him, regardless of the lies he spewed during their battles.

He supposed the only problem with this was that there were very few places a camera could go without being noticed, if any at all. He could always hope that Sci would come in with a somehow perfect device for the situation.

Actually, who needs hope, it's Sci, he always has something.

On the topic of the coffee addict and cameras, he should probably get Dust before he agrees to be a test dummy for one of Sci's experiments.

A portal grew from the shadows as Nightmare instructed his boys, " Find somewhere to place video equipment, I will retrieve them and Dust. " He walked through the swirling negativity as he finished.

Fuck, he was too late.

Dust was seated in a cheap office with one of his arms strapped to a metal table by him as he scrolled through his phone with his other hand, with Sci ready to inject Dust's arm with some unknown subsistence.

Nightmare's tentacles were quick to yank the needle out of Sci's hands grabbing his attention, " What was that for!? "

" You were about to inject my subordinate with something, and for all I knew it could kill him. " Nightmare snarled

" Oh please like I'd give him something like that, " Sci rolled his eye-lights. " It's just enough amino amides to knock out his ulna and radius so that I can get a proper sample. "

" And what do you plan on doing with it? " Nightmare crossed his arms, his tentacles twitching like a cat's tail.

" Figure out the density of magic that makes up his body. "

" Why would you want to know this? "

" Don't know, " Sci shrugged. " Thought it'd be interesting. Maybe useful in a medical field of some sort. "

" How large would this sample be? "

The scientist turned his head back to Dust's arm and studied it for a moment. He placed his hand on its side like a knife at the start of Dust's forearm, turned back to Nightmare, and shrugged.

" No, you can't have Dust's forearm. " Was he going to have to scold Sci like a child?

" Why not? He agreed to it. "

" I am his guardian, and I will not be giving you my consent. " Nightmare growled.

" So you admit you see us like your kids? " Dust piped up, still scrolling through his phone.

" I never said such a thing. "

" You said you're our guardian. "

" That is my title, and with how I have to look after you all I may as well be. "

" So you admit being like a father figure? "

" Do not put words in my mouth Dust. "

" I'm telling the Horror and Killer. "

" You will not. "

" Too late. "

The Guardian of Negativity rubbed the rig of his nasal cavity and groaned, already done with the next week. " We’re setting up so get your duff off that chair and grab the supplies. "

Dust shrugged and waited for Sci to finish grumbling about how Nightmare couldn't understand as he removed the straps holding his arm down and handed him the box with all of the supplies.

With the cameras in hand, Nightmare pulled Dust through the still-open cut in reality back to Dream's run-down apartment. Nightmare would not adjust to seeing that this was the type of person he hated so.

" Have you figured out where to place them Killer? "

" Cours' Boss, " His right hand gestured to a corner of the mostly empty closet, and the now open cupboard that only had a cup and plate. " And we could tempt underneath the mattress, but I don't think any of us want to touch it. Don't know what's growing on that… Maybe Horror would! "

A firm slap to the back of his skull that made him wobble and a growl from Horror was the only thing he got from the statement.

" Well damn, okay, just a growl would have been fine, " He turned to Horror in fake annoyance. " Who am I kiddin', it was well deserved. BUT! Onto more pressing matters, " Killer turned to stare Nightmare down with his non-existent eye-lights. " You admitted to being the fatherly figure none of us had/remember having? "

" No. "

" HE DIDN'T STAB ME! WE HAVE A CONFIRMED FATHER FIGURE! "

Oh for fucks sake.

~~~~🌕~~~~

Luckily after his subordinate's celebration, the rest of the setup went without a hitch. The cameras were smaller than they had thought, making it easier to hide them, and considering how little space there was, it was quick.

Dream didn't return to his hole that day or the day after, he came back after the Bad Sanses next supply run.

" It's fine Dream, you're fine, he says it every time, nothing has changed, nothing has changed, nothing. Has. Changed. " Dream was leaning over the sink staring at his reflection. " And… it won't ever change… he'll always hate me. " Dream looked like he was slowly reaching a tipping point.

" Did he always hate me? Was I just that terrible of a brother? How many times have I asked myself that, far more than I should have that's for sure. " Tears flow from his eye sockets. " He may as well have done it out of spite. I wish I could tell myself how wrong I am, how he wouldn't have done it just because he hates me, b- but it's clear that I never knew him. " A smile that didn't match his quivering eye-lights tightened its thread.

" Why can't I let go? "

The dim glow of Dream's tears fell in silence, filling the sink's shitty plumbing.

What was the sting in Nightmare's chest? Why wouldn't it go away!?

Why did his anger only make it worse?

Dream ended up sleeping on the mold-ridden mattress that night and arose with dark bags that challenged Nightmare's corruption underneath his sockets.

He struggled to even sit up and used the wall to force himself to stand so that he could wobble his mostly asleep legs to the mirror and open it.

Inside were a few bottles and pellets of white creams or compacted dust, Dreamed reached for one of them without thinking and applied it underneath his eye sockets in an attempt to hide the bags that had formed.

Once finished he placed it back, closed the mirror, and looked himself in the socket.

Why were Dream's eye-lights so dim? So dull. He looked so tired like he had pulled three all-nighters and run a marathon every day. Where was the blinding light that Nightmare was forced to adjust to so that he could fight him?

Dream let out a shaky breath after a few moments and attempted to sew on a smile, only for the stitching to be wired. " Come on Dream, you've been doing this for the past… all, your life… " His eye-lights dimmed as he sank into thought.

" NO! No, no. New idea, I stop thinking and get back to smiling, go to the Omega Timeline, and act like I never came here! " A strained smile forced its way to Dream's face. " yeah… I never went through that… "

Dream stayed quiet, still trying to make his smile seem natural and forcing his eye-lights to be brighter before opening the bathroom door and walking into a world that was not there before.

Well now Nightmare knew how people got into the Omega Timeline, but it probably wasn't that simple.

Anger swirled in Nightmare. At whom? He didn't know. But it didn't matter his frustration would just be let loose whenever he deemed the positive side of the spectrum grows too large.

To which it did.

Dream had barely gotten the word " brother " out of his teeth and Nightmare lashed out. His tentacles were lanced with the intent to kill and his words to scar.

And it seems that his words succeeded. The Guardian of Positivity entered his tattered apartment a little more than an hour later and immediately fell to the ground, pulling his legs to his chest and burying his skull in them. His breathing started to quicken and become strained as he started to choke on his sobs.

" I'm a moron. I'm stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! " Dream started to murmur into his arms that curled around him. " I'm a selfish prick! I'm useless! So useless and so fucking dumb! I'm an asshole! He said so many times before! He's not my brother! He's not my brother, he's not my brother, not my brother, not my brother, not my brother, he's not, he's not, HE'S NOT! " A few ragged breaths, " I lost him a long time ago, I lost the right to call him my brother when I ran away like the useless selfish asshole I am. I just stood there, I just watched, I JUST FUCKING WATCHED. I ran away, I ran away from him, I ran away from everything instead of facing it like I'm supposed to. I let them hurt him when I was supposed to protect him because I'm useless, useless, useless useless useless! And I had the guts to cry about being overworked! I didn't work enough! The villagers were angry because I couldn't do enough! It's my fault, it's my fault, it's my fault, my fault, my fault… "

He continued the loop for a few more minutes, slowing down till the only sound left in the room was the once-a-while hick in his breath as he slowly went limp, falling into sleep in the same spot on the floor that he started.

The black apple in Nightmare's chest stung. It wanted to go to its twin and comfort it, but it also wanted to hide. Run away from the pain that he caused.

But he didn't know why.

Normally his soul would sing to the idea of anyone's misery and especially loud at the idea of his brother's. After all, Dream neglected them for the villagers.

But Dream blamed everything on himself. Nightmare didn't even blame Dream that much. He couldn't blame Dream for the villagers' actions. They were not his.

In the past, he wanted to and did. The only reason he didn't now, was because his boys had questioned why he blamed Dream for what the villagers had done. (They also jammed the fact that Nightmare was much younger at the time and was no longer allowed to call his past form weak. BUT IT WAS!)

He admitted that he was a terrible sibling at least. He wasn't. So far that was one of the only good things to come from this venture, and with how it was going there was no point in having his boys waste their time watching this with him. He didn't want them to see his weakness.

Dream came back multiple times while Nightmare planned the next attack. Nothing new was said in his brother's latest cries for peace, the same guilty pleas as before. The only thing that was new were the stings of guilt from his soul and how they got worse every time he saw Dream's dim eye-lights.

His men had also grown worried for him as he locked himself in a room to watch and listen to his brother, but today was the first time any of them said anything.

" … Nightmare? " Horror was the first one to say anything.

" Is there something you need, boys? " The Guardian of Negativity looked up from his latest draft of a deal that should get them some new chemicals for Dust to play with and sell to Sci.

Killer, Dust, and Horror stood in the opened door of his office, each with varying levels of concern. " Not much, " his right hand continued. " Just wondering if you're okay, ya know, considering the Dream situation. "

Nightmare sighed knowing fully well that was what the question was going to be. " I am fine, just struggling to figure out what to do with the information we have. "

" Yeah, figuring out that you still care for someone is hard lol. "

" What did you say, Killer? " Nightmare's eye-light stared him down.

The sadist looked over to his coworkers, " See told you he hadn't figured it out! "

" Killer, what is the meaning of this? "

Killer chuckled a little, " Come on Boss, no one looks at someone who they say they hate having a panic attack so uncomfortable unless they cared to some extent~ "

" Out. "

A kackle, " Mmmkay, see ya Boss. "

That was a concept that Nightmare did not like. He had spent centuries with a hatred of Dream. How in all of the world could he care for him?

The statement that he hated oh so ended up being what he couldn't stop thinking about. Even during his latest battle with Dream. He was silent. Dream made a few attempts to talk to him, not once calling him brother, why did that hurt? All failed.

In all honesty, Nightmare was barely paying any mind to the fight, it was still in debate. And it seemed that his turmoil only stirred Dream's own.

" He didn't say anything… " Dream stood stunned and confused, to say the least. " Is that good? N-no, it can't be good, he was so angry last time. Is he planning something big? " He let out a singular huff of air. " Of course, he is, he always has something ready. But why was he so quiet? Was he trying to shut me up? That wouldn't be shocking, I doubt he's ever enjoyed listening to me blabber about things, even then. So what!? " Dream rubbed his face. " Am I just not worth talking to… Of course, I'm not worth talking to. When have I ever been? " He groaned, walked to his bed, and sat in the corner with his head hidden in his legs as he continued to question Nightmare's intentions.

Why? Why does it hurt Nightmare so? Why does Dream thinking he is only capable of causing pain, hurt his soul? Why in the name of Toby Fox would he care what Dream thought about him? Why would he care at all!?

Why does he want to hate the one being that has done nothing wrong to him? Why did he hurt Dream? Why did attempt to injure his brother? 

Why did Dream still care for him? Nightmare had done nothing but torture him since he had been freed of his stone prison. What was wrong with Dream!? Maybe something was wrong with Nightmare?

Dream definitely had something wrong with him, (Didn't everyone in this multiverse?) He returned to the small apartment a few days later with a small purple cupcake with a candle. He placed it on the tiny counter and opened the middle drawer, hesitating before reaching in, grabbing a lighter, and placing it by the cupcake with his hand still around it.

He stared the dessert down, letting out a sigh as his eyebrow creased. " It's gonna be seven years tomorrow. Well, I guess 507 years. It doesn't feel like that though. It doesn't even feel like one… " Letting go of the lighter Dream makes his way to his bed and sits in the corner. " I should be 19 tomorrow, not 507. "

How did Nightmare forget such a thing? The following day was the day Nightmare gained his freedom, the day the villagers regretted their actions, the day Dream was trapped in stone, the day Dream was freed from stone, and the day they were created.

" What are you going to do tomorrow? What big event is going to push the balance to its limit this time? "

Silence.

" Why am I even doing this? Why would you want me to celebrate your birthday? " 

Something shattered.

Dream's skull wiped to the source of the sound, the bathroom. Removing himself from his mold-ridden mattress and into the room of origin.

Glass was scattered across the room, when Dream opened the door – Yes, Nightmare had the decency to let his brother have the privacy of the bathroom. – A rock sat in the walk-in shower. Dream looked up at the small foggy window above the shower head that was now forever open.

" O-oh… " Dream's skull dropped. " Well, I guess that answers that… "

He sighs, " Why am I still doing this? Why am I doing any of this!? Why am I still fighting Nightmare!? Why am I trying to make sure the multiverse stays balanced when I couldn't even take care of a single village!? Or Protect my brother! I was the worst choice for this fucking job, also I never asked for it universe! " 

Dream grabbed his golden cerite off his head and threw it across the room hitting the mirror, making glass spray all around the small apartment. " I never wanted to be your damned Guardian of Positivity! I just wanted to sit under a damn tree and listen to my brother! " Tears prick out of the corners of his eye-sockets as he screamed angrily at the multiverse. " Why can't I have that!? My entire life has been centered around making everyone else happy! But I can't be?

" I could've been a normal person! Nightmare could've been normal! No one would've hurt him, neither of us would have been so stressed, we could have just been happy!

" I could just stop, what would you think of that universe!? Mmmm? Mmmm? What would you do then? What would you do if I stopped working!? Mmmmm!? " A few heavy breaths. " I could… I could stop… I could just quit. " A crooked smile crawled onto Dream's face. " The multiverse would be thrown into chaos, but who cares? I could be selfish for once! Would it be that selfish though? The multiverse would probably be better off if someone else took the responsibility, and Nightmare would like that! He wouldn't have to put up with me anymore! And I won't have to do anything anymore! "

Dream rushed to the counter where he left the cupcake and opened the same drow that he got the lighter from, but this time pulling out a box cutter.

Was he?

His brother pulled out his soul, staring down at it wordlessly as he held the box cutter.

The once soft golden glow his soul held was gone, in the apple's stead was a brown rotting mush of what should be.

Had Nightmare pushed Dream to this?

He did, didn't he? Nightmare had done nothing but torture, someone who had tried their best for everyone, had their childhood stripped away from them, had a larger responsibility than anyone should bear thrown at them when they were young, and his brother.

Dream had done nothing but try to understand, try to fix whatever the problem was, and Nightmare only pushed him away and blamed him for feeling scared of his abusers.

A sound pulled Nightmare from his realization. 

" No…  " Dream pushed his rotting soul back into his ribs. " I can wait till tomorrow. That way it's a birthday present for both of us, I can be free and he can do it himself. Like he's always wanted. It should be easy enough, I can slow down a bit. Maybe I'll trip. I've been fairly tired lately after all. "

Nightmare's original plan for their birthday was to attack the Omega Timeline, hence why he was trying to find a way in. Now though it was definitely too late to attempt that and Nightmare had lost the will to after all he'd seen.

But he was going to have to do something, or Dream would probably kill himself.