[CW: heavy self-depreciation, heavy suicidal ideation, several of mentions of deaths (not graphic but very explicit use of "death", "dies", etc. (it's a very big part of this post)), disassociation, panic attack (repetitions of "cannot breathe"), derealisation] tubbo-centric but in second person, /dsmp & /rp

you need to be prepared to keep them safe, ready for your next mistake, misstep, misfortune. if you could blame it all on fortune, on destiny, on any higher power, then you'd have something other yourself to blame. something other than yourself and everyone else on this goddamn server. but blaming other people is disruptive, wrong, unsafe. so maybe the people aren't the problem, maybe it's the server, this goddamn cursed server. but, no, that's a higher power, and you could make a grand speech but that's dramatic, colourful, unsafe. it's so difficult confusing, blame the people, blame the server, blame yourself. blame yourself. oh, oh, there, straightforward and sensible and simple, blame yourself. only yourself, only yourself, people are dying and dead around you and you're only yourself, always by yourself.

what am i without you, your best friend asks and you know what you are without him. you are yourself and yourself is never the good one, never the victorious one, never the dead one. dead, dead, dead. this time, you're dead. you're the dead one. pillar of dirt, dead. arrow through the heart, dead. room with empty chests, dead. four dead. one death gone. two deaths left. one death left. almost dead. zero death lefts, dead and gone but comes back and then the country is dead. dead and dead and about to die. you're about to die, you're dying, the dead one. you're never the dead one but it's what you deserve because you're you. he's always the dead one but he deserves better because he's him. he is good and sharp and warm. he is himself and he doesn't deserve death, never deserved death. you, however, you are yourself. and he is so much better when he is himself than when you are yourself. easygoing and gentle and bright. bright. bang! bang! bright and colourful, colourful and dramatic. dramatic. boom! boom! boom! even further. press! boom! stab. disruptive, wrong, unsafe. you're not safe, he's not safe, you need to protect him. when you are yourself, you're bright and colourful and vulnerable. that's dangerous. dangerous, you need to be dangerous, be intimidating and unassuming and harsh.

so you tell your best friend to be cold- be kind- be dull- be bright- be foul- be good-

you tell him to be-

yourself, you tell him and you're about to die and you're already gone and then you're not. not about to die and not gone and not the dead one, again, but not the losing one either, for once. you should be dead but you're not and you don't feel safe or secure or present. you're not yourself right now and perhaps, that is why you're not dead. you do not feel like yourself, feel too far and cloudy and distant, away from could-have-been-death and should-have-been-deaths and would-have-been-deaths. you feel like your would-have-been-but-was-not-death is catching up with you, dying, cannot breathe. steps are too heavy, you're too heavy, sinking and drowning. surrounded by water, lungs are filling up, cannot breathe. your head is filling up with water and rain and storms. your brain is waterlogged and heavy, cannot breathe, cannot think. you cannot think like yourself and you do not feel like yourself. you are not you and so, you are not dead. dead, dead, dead.

maybe, you are already dead. you, the you that is yourself, is dead and gone, gone into the fog and the ocean. gone are the colours and the brightness and the vulnerability because they are dead. death after death, one death left, one more death, one last death. one last death for the corpse and his corpse friends, corpse family. splintering corpse family and rotting corpse. rotting smell, smell of alcohol and cigarettes. you never knew what they tasted like but the smells burn your tongue. you always kept a rag, always kept a lighter. the rag's fabric was colourful and the lighter's flame was bright. unsafe and dangerous, they are dangerous. the thread was fraying and the casing was scratched. but they still worked. fraying and scratched and working, open and scarred and useful. open and scarred and moving corpse. dead one, one dead, many dead, many deaths. goddamn cursed server and its moving corpses. zombie server for zombie people. dead people walking. you are walking but you are dead, about to die, could have died, should have died, should be dead. walk and you are dead, breathe and you are dead. you breathe and people die because you should not be breathing. so don't breathe, drift and drown and disappear. disappear into fog, into ocean. clouds and rain, distant storms, you are so very far and so very heavy and so very dead.

dead, dead, dead and moving and breathing and writing. writing plans and blueprints and wills. part of you is already dead, lost in fog and water, and the rest of you is dying. you need to be prepared for your death, the final mistake, misstep, misfortune. not really misfortune, you point out to the fog. (oh, pause, scratch that out in your will, that would upset them, the you drifting in the fog guides) you need to be prepared to keep them safe, after your final mistake, misstep. it better be a misstep, you remind the water. (hm, i'll try not to make it obvious, that would break them, the you drowning in the ocean agrees) you need to be prepared...to make your final mistake. not a mistake, you whisper to the empty and still and dead air (not if it's just what's meant to be, the dead air full of dead people whisper back with their alcohol and cigarettes) nobody shout at you for stealing their line because they are either dying or dead or gone. gone and dead and dying because everyone is a corpse. corpses that will be the death of you and you will be the death of the world.

yes, the death of the world, dead server and dead people. it will be you, you in your fog, you in the ocean, you with your intimidating-unassuming-harsh-dangerous self, you with your colourful-bright-vulnerable-unsafe weapons, only your weapons and your enemies and yourself, you by yourself, always by yourself. when you're by yourself for the last time, you'll be yourself for the last time and you will be dangerous, colourful and bright and harsh. boom! bang! no! no, wrong, not like them! just like them, like them but more! bigger! nothing after that, only one then it's over. one last button, one last long whistle, only one last explosion. big, big explosion for the big server with its moving corpses. moving corpse. you. dead corpse. dead self. you are dead. dying you. moving you. breathing you. cold you. kind you. dull you. bright you. foul you. good you. dangerous you. vulnerable you.

you, you, you. so many different types. but just you.

just yourself.

[CW: self-depreciation, suicidal ideation, mention of past deaths (not graphic but stated explicitly), implied past abuse (not graphic, schlatt), one mention of alcohol (glatt)] tubbo-centric but in second person, /dsmp & /rp

things go wrong. it's a fact, it's history, it's how the world works. chekov's gun, the story of theseus, the origin story of a hero. things go wrong when you're around, and maybe it's not because of you, but nobody listens to you, but everybody likes hurting you, but you're useful and that's why you survive. sunk cost fallacy, cassandra of troy, the sidekick. the sidekick and the pawn and the spy and the president and the soldier and never the person but always a tragedy. just another tragedy among a population of tragedies. just another tragedy among a life of tragedies. you are built on tragedies and you prepare for tragedy and they say you're a tragedy but you don't believe them because tragedies come with an ending.

there is no ending for you. you die and you die but after that, it almost seems like you've run out of deaths. deaths, death, died, dies, die, dice, roll the dice. roll the dice, an old friend says, gamble a bit, have some fun, try your luck. he's wearing suspenders and dress shirt with its top two buttons open, you're wearing a vest and a tank top. a scar runs from his lip to his eye, scars run from your cheek to your fingertips. you can almost feel a silky red fabric tightening around your collar (you know he feels it too) and you can almost see the twinkle of a long gone wedding ring on your old friend's hand. (you have a ring of your own now). but you know better than to trust "almost" and you know better than to ignore it. you ignore the lingering smell of alcohol and the tightness in the other's voice and the presence of a dead man in the dead air. you grin almost carelessly and shake you head almost fondly and you tie the restaurant apron around you in an almost perfect knot.

almost, almost, almost and never. never dead, never right, never enough. never enough for family and friends and enemies. family gone and friends dead and heroes victorious. a villain, you are, evil, evil monster. villain, monster, tragedy. all the same in the end, no end, never ending. you are almost a tragedy and your tragedy will never end. countries end, friendships end, lives end but never you. almost you. should have been you. it scares you the thought of ending. sometimes. you're scared when you don't feel scared of the ending at all. you want it, want an ending. you want a victory, a victory that means rest and peace and safety. but things go wrong when you wish they wouldn't. you wish for things that you can't have. you can't have safety and peace and rest and an ending.

ending, ending, the night is ending, the day is starting. the day, the night, the morning. good morning and you are lying in bed and the bed is empty and you are empty. empty tragedy and hollow victory. victory, tragedy, ending. things go wrong. almost there, never there. keep pushing, keep moving, keep wishing for an ending. ending, ending, ending, you are ending and you will never end, never win, never die. never, never, never and almost. almost dead, one life left, one person left. it's always you. always, always, always, all ways you are useful and dangerous and wrong. wrong and right, you are wrong when it's right and you're right when things go wrong. blame the enemy and blame the ally and the ally is the enemy and you are blamed.

things go wrong (the story of chekov's gun) because you are wrong (the story of theseus) and you are right (the origin story of a hero) and things go wrong (sunk cost fallacy) for people who are right (cassandra of troy) about things that are wrong (you, you, you, always you and never you and almost you, you wish it was you).