#hit me right in the thanatophobia

[sharoo]

Starlight as foreshadowing in Nine Sols

Not me thinking about the fact one of the earliest memories of Heng that Yi recounts is one where she mentions learning about stars and how light works.

A star may already have gone out, but the light it's produced has to travel immense distance, it reaches us with delay. We will not realise a star has died until the last of its remnant light has extinguished.

And after you've gotten to the final message, once you've learned that Penglai is 500 light years away from New Kunlun so the messages are at least that much postponed in time...

You come back to realise that very first memory was foreshadowing Heng's fate from the very beginning. She's long gone, it's just her messages that came late.

But it's also so beautifully thematic and hopeful.

Heng, unlike the scientifically minded and stubborn Yi, accepted death as a fact of life. Because to her, death is not the end, it's simply a return to the larger world.

Dead does not mean gone. And even after she's departed, she'll still be remembered, she'll still be in the world, she'll surround her loved ones.

In a game where so many people drive themselves mad by seeking immortality, to the point they see destruction of free will and complete mutation of their species as the better alternative to death... Heng is accepting. Because she understands her passing does not equate the destruction of everything she was and stood for. That death does not render her meaningless.

She's dead. But she's still there. Her light still shines, years after.

And it's thanks to that light her brother knew the path he must take.

[selamat-linting]

Wait until they send your son home in a box

See if you're dancing when water is everywhere

Anguish is endless but death's unambiguous

Wave as it carries him off

And pose while it fits you in hospital gowns

And flirt with the men dressed in white

Slip into bed with the fire that consumes our house

Sing on your surveillance tape

Smile in your autopsy photo for once

Phone up the boys that have buried your bones

Where do you get off loving life?

As if it's done any of us any good

[11thsdoctress]

thanatophobia [11th Doctor x Reader Drabble]

(this can be read with 10, 12, or 14, but had 11 in mind when writing this.)

--------------------------------------------------

“What do you mean, this can’t go on?”

She asks as He was trying to find the right words for him to say to her, She was an amazing person, but He doesn’t feel like He deserved her.

“Look, I want you and all, but sometimes I feel that I couldn’t- I don’t deserve it.” He shakily confesses as the rain pours harder around them. They were under the rain in the forest, where the only sounds were the rain hitting the leaves and ground, the soft whirs of the TARDIS.

However, she looks at him as if nothing else mattered around her, She only wanted him, but the fear of losing him was far greater than her desires.

“I want you, so bad, sometimes I think it’s selfish for me to tell you the things I feel, or how much I want you and I to be a thing, but….” He sighs, “I just-…. I just don’t want to lose someone like you…”

For a singular moment, it felt like there wasn’t anyone around them, like they were the only people there, every raindrop, car engines, or people talking were simply muted.

“I….I don’t wanna lose you too.” She managed to let her words out, there were so many things She wanted to say, but every time She found the words, it felt like the words were trapped in her mouth, like her body was frozen, afraid.

He steps closer to her, as if being far from her was already a form of torture to him, he shakily moves closer, she was within his reach. He, ever so gently, slowly cupped her face, as if her face is a delicate piece of art that was priceless, yet, worth more than galaxies and stars beyond the system.

She feels his warm hand on the side of her face, she melts to his gentle touch, letting her eyes close as she just wants to feel the warmth and comfort of his hand on her face.

“…Let’s go home?” He gently sighs as he looks at her,

“Promise me one thing…” she says,

“what is it?” he asks,

“Don’t let me go…” She embraces him tightly,

“Never…I won’t make that mistake again…” he sighs as he held her as close as possible.

------------------------------------

have this stale drabble that's been sitting in my drive for ages-

i will try to upload more but let's hope gjshfjsjd

[ha-18t]

Oguro Kafka - Thanatophobia

Novel

Chapter 1

💬 Translation under the cut!

...

That day, I woke up in the same hospital room.

The seven year old me sighed. The bright white room was in the children’s ward of Daikoku Hospital. For as long as I could remember, I had been in and out of the hospital, but recently I had not been able to go back home at all. That house on the wharf was only faintly visible in my memory.

“I wonder if my father will visit today… or maybe my mother…”

I might have been physically sick, but that didn’t mean I was unhappy.

My family would always take time off of work to visit me. My father, who was the tourism director, and my mother, who was a scientist, would always visit my room.

The times when my mother would visit were always interesting - she was extremely well-informed and would always have a story to tell me.

My father was… Well, he would just tell me it was lonely without me in the house. But he would always do his best to express his feelings to me. That was how I received his love.

“But… I’m going to die someday, right?”

Looking out the window and into the clear sky above, I whispered that to myself.

I couldn’t go outside, I couldn’t go to school. I had no friends. I wasn’t the only one in the children’s ward, but it felt like everybody kept me at arm’s length. Well, it could have been because I didn’t act my age, or maybe because my family was a household name in HAMA.

“You’re a bit special.” My mother would tell me,

“But being special is a blessing, Kafka. If everybody was the same as you, what would make you stand out?”

But was that my mother’s belief? Or my own?

Either way, if my life ends early, what sort of blessing would my special-ness have given me? If I were to die right now, what would I even have been born for?

Neither of my parents showed up that day, so I asked for permission to go up to the rooftop garden.

Although the garden was simple, it had a bench for me to read and think on. That day, there was a small bird laying dead on the concrete. It must have hit something and fell. The little bird’s eyes were closed and it was completely limp.

‘Poor thing’, I thought for a moment. I thought it would be a good idea to bury it. But, I wasn’t sure if somebody as frail as I was should have been handling a dead, wild bird. I asked my nurse, who gave me a mask and gloves, and I buried it in the courtyard of the hospital.

Despite its sudden death, I didn’t think we were that different from each other. Just like the bird, I could have had a sudden heart attack, fell over, and died on the rooftop garden. And I would have just wanted the person who found me to be kind to me.

The nurse left, and I just stood there in front of the little bird’s grave. Suddenly, a shadow cast over me. I looked up and saw my mother, clad in her white uniform. She must have left work early.

“You buried a little bird?”

My mother definitely heard it from the nurse.

“Yes, it was dead.”

I was sure the bird was dead, but even through the gloves I could feel its body, heavier and warmer than I was expecting. It made me wonder if it was still alive.

“One day, will I also be like that bird?”

“….”

My mother suddenly fell silent, then asked me…

“What do you think it means to be ‘dead’?”

“Isn’t it when your heart stops beating?”

“Or, maybe when your thoughts stop?”

My mother took my hand and pulled me towards a bench in the courtyard so we could talk.

“Some people even believe that a person only truly dies when all memories of them are gone.”

With that said, my mother continued with the subject.

“The current Japanese medical definition for death is cardiac arrest, cessation of respiration, loss of the light reflex, and dilation of the pupils. Legally, you can define death as the cessation of respiration and a general inability to resuscitate.”

“Is animal death the same?”

“If we are only talking about physical death, then death can simply be defined as the irreversible departure from life.”

My mother led me to the bench and then sat down beside me.

The wind blew gently through the courtyard, and I could faintly smell chemicals from my mother’s work uniform. The scent was sterile, tranquil, and cold. I didn’t dislike it.

“So, yes. All life on Earth is dependent on carbon polymers. When you look at it that way, the process of dying isn’t that different between humans and other things on Earth. Either way, the body stops, decomposes, becomes microbial fertilizer, and leaves behind everything that isn’t usable.”

My mother talked about death so bluntly.

She stroked my head and asked me, “What do you think about death, Kafka?”

I thought for a moment, and decided to tell her what had been going through my mind.

“No matter what, all living things die… So I shouldn’t be afraid… but really, I’m not sure. Sometimes I feel as if I’m going to die, but I’m still alive.”

My mother kept stroking my head, and lapsed back into silence.

At some point, her hand stopped.

“I am… a thanatophobe. Death has always been… a huge fear of mine. When I was giving birth to you, I was terrified.”

The usually intense voice of my mother suddenly seemed so small. I looked up to meet her face, and she was staring far into space as if lost in thought.

But in a split second, my mother’s face turned to a smile.

She pulled me close to her chest and hugged me wistfully, squeezing my arms.

“Of course, I’m so happy that I gave birth to you.” She added.

“…But, I wish it had been a healthier birth. There are some things you only learn when you’re close to death. I know that from experience.”

It’s very rare for my mother to make such a negative statement. Rarely, and really only rarely, would my mother say something so gloomy. Only when she would talk about my body, or my death.

My mother and I look so much alike. My father would always say that. He’s so proud that I inherited my mother’s beautiful face and smarts. He wishes I wasn’t so sick though. He doesn’t say it, but I know he thinks it.

“Kafka, unlike me, there’s a major surgery you can have when you’re an adult. It’s possible to make a full recovery. If you live until 20, you will likely have a healthy future.”

“Unlike you…?”

“I…”

After saying that, my mother couldn’t get a clear word out. I didn’t know what to do. My mother had a job, but just like me, she was always bedridden and in and out of the hospital a lot.

“Kafka, let’s make a bet. If you live until 20, I’ll give you a surprise.”

“Huh?”

I wanted to ask her if she would be alive then, but I couldn’t get the words out.

These little bets that my mother and I would make were so much fun - like our own secret game.

It was always how she would try to lighten the mood.

Every single day felt the same. I would wake up in the same hospital room, and I would sleep in the same hospital room. In the midst of instability, I counted on these bets with my mother to get me at least a little excited about the future.

That’s why… I didn’t want to bet against my mother.

“I think it would be more fun to bet on what’s for dinner tonight.”

“Is that so?”

We bet that the hospital would have Jell-O. On the way to the cafeteria, my mother unexpectedly put her head to mine and whispered to me.

“Until your surgery at 20 years old… no, even after that… we can’t be afraid of death, Kafka. Death is simply a cessation of the physical being. The mind is much more complex than that.”

“Isn’t being so close to death and so terrified of it exhausting?”

“Having justifiable fears can add purpose to your life.”

My mother looked directly into my eyes and murmured, as if she was revealing the secret to life.

“If you live your life to the fullest, you’ll eventually be privy to the secrets of the world.”

“The secrets of the world…?”

When I repeated her, my mother let out a painful, wistful laugh.

“Whether knowing them is a blessing or a curse… That’s up to you to decide.”

My mother was trying to tell me something, but I didn’t understand.

The secrets of the world, huh. Are they that important? More important than unsolved mathematical formulas, undiscovered ideas, and the story of everything beyond our universe?

My mother, who has lived her whole life afraid of death… does she already know all the secrets of this world?

“Think it over, maybe while you’re fishing.”

My mother let go of my body and stood up quickly. I was caught up on her bringing up fishing so suddenly, but my mother just laughed and stroked my arm.

“There’s a fishing spot by the hospital, just through the courtyard. If you want to learn, your father can teach you.”

“Ehhh… I’m happy just playing on the computer.” I grumble.

“Let’s make a bet, then.” My mother says.

“Fishing is surprisingly heavy on the brain. You have to think about the tides, the wind, the temperature, the season, the bait. I bet you can’t catch more fish than your father. You wouldn’t think about that kind of stuff.”

When my mother wanted me to act upon something, she would always say ‘Alright, then I guess Kafka has thrown in the towel and I won the bet!’

“Alright! I’ll learn from my father, and I’ll make you proud!”

My mother just laughed out loud at my defiance.

The sunlight reflected off of her in the courtyard, making her hair and eyes sparkle.

Back then, she looked like the surface of the ocean on a sunny day, reflecting the light onto the pier.

...

[rottencoreofalpes]

omg yes I cant shut up about tetro to the homies... I feel bad but like,,,,, tetro,,,, pls,,, tetro..... anyways what are your thoughts on this weeks videos? I think this has definitely marked a tone shift, not necessarily that the tone hasn't been there already but its been definitely been empahsized! I'm mourning who we've lost but gosh its suuuppeerrr hype I'm so excited for more! any predictions you've got? for who the killer is or for any future plot lines!

LOL. I SAW YOUR OTHER ASKS AND IT'S ALRIGHT.

Tetro brainrot is about all of it. I just wanted to talk more about staffside since it haunts my day...!

But I don't mind answering this question.

Spoilers for CH3 under:

First of all, I agree wholeheartedly about the tone shift...and I'm digging it. Don't get me wrong, I love how much more lighthearted student side is compared to staffside, but I'm a sucker for painful and angsty stories and oh god.

The murders? Amazing. I love how brutal Kamimura's death was. It hurts my soul on a completely different level. Especially when I think about how distrustful he was towards everyone and how he was slowly opening up to more people (Hayashi, Tamba).

I can't imagine how terrible all this feels for Ken. Ken and Kamimura hit it off pretty early and their relationship was just so great! They had great chemistry be it a friendship or maybe a future romantic relationship.

So seeing his friend who he ALWAYS worried about (according to ken's interview) and who he listed as the second most likely to be targeted must STING.

I'm really worried for Ken and how he will deal with this.

Moving on to Tsuno. Omg. Tsuno.

Tsuno Manami. She wasn't a character that I focused greatly on, but I did enjoy her dynamic with many characters. Especially the one she had with Hiroaki, since she seemed to be most comfortable with putting down the cheerful mask she usually had on around him. Her talk with Hiroaki hurts so much worse now that she passed away.

Recent threads from the staff were discussing her and that drove the point harder for me. I think despite liking Kamimura more as a character, Tsuno's death hit me harder.

I just loved her death and how we got to see it on screen! The voice acting was phenomenal and the way she didn't say anything after getting impaled djdododo.

It seemed as if she didn't see that coming and that hurt her a lot!

Now moving on to Okazaki, who is my main suspect (unfortunately). DUDGDUSUSU.

I think I have been very outspoken about what I think of Okazaki (in the server). Im an okazaki apologist lol(mostly joking, cause i love wada a lot as well...and it is very hard to have to pick sides between the two.)

While I do know that what Okazaki did to Wada is wrong, and while I did wish for Wada to get justice over that... I mainly felt the need to defend Okazaki cause the most of the fandom views her and decides to dub her as evil.

I don't think labeling someone evil is that simple. Humans are just not that black and white. I also hate that many people seem to think Okazaki is cold and that she does not care for anyone, even Watari.

What Okazaki thinks of Watari was solidified to me in Thanatophobia which is my no1 fav episode of Tetro ever, followed closely by BDA4 and then Right Hand.

But yeah, slay Okazaki... I was kinda rooting for her to be a ch5 blackened and to manage and win the trial, but oh well, don't i love getting my dreams shattered?

[obscure-song-tournament]

Bracket C - Tenth Set

Juliet and Juliet - Kactus Kid

“OKAY SO LIKE??? They only have like seven songs, most of them are like!! Soft sounds but harsh lyrics. Like it’s those happy time but aacgually sad lyrics but not like pop music but more like uhhh CAVETOWN! If you like Cavetown you’ll like Kactus kid! They’ve had a few hit animations but their original music is ignored?!! It’s amazing! Last year They even MADE an animated video for one of their original songs called The Garden (https://youtu.be/ONGsFoaVOC4) but it only has 700 views Vs their animations based off other ppls songs with like 35,000 views like what’s up with that???? SO UM YEAH I REALLY WANT TO CHANGE THEIR 16 VEIWS MONTHLY ON SPOTIFY”

Low Rent Truman Show - Marc with a C

“I am! Bad at genres. It's a guitar based song that leans on the joke: What if everyone decided to fake everything told to some person as a joke? Everyone in the world in on the joke of making the world seem worse than it is for this one guy. It's pretty fun and light hearted!” [more reccs below cut]

"Marc With a C has. So many albums with so many songs. Just recommending one is. Hard. There are a lot of other MWAC songs I'd recommend! ""Life's So Hard"" (title track) is an older song from the perspective of teenagers complaining that Life's So Hard that is poking fun at them but also not.

""Daddy, Make The Sun Come Out"" (from Popular Music) is a soft guitar song from the perspective of Marc's pet dog, working under the idea that his dog probably thinks that he is able to do anything. It is a very cute song where his dog loves and depends on him.

""Motherfuckers Be Bullshittin'"" (title track) is a song from the perspective of a guy that was abusive to his partner after his partner left him and how he stalks her online (the album goes through the whole story, this is just a snippet of the story near the end) and despite the subject matter it's a very fun song overall.

""This Meeting Is Bullshit"" (from Half Serious, Half Joking) is a song about a disgruntled office worker as he thinks about the meeting being bullshit and thinking about the the politics of the office. It's also fun!

...and there is a lot more. Marc has a tendency to write from the perspectives of a lot of people, trying to figuring out their thought processes even if he doesn't agree with them. Plus, most of his music was written under the character Marc With a C, who is separate from the real Marc. He has also recently had a sort of Reboot with his online personality that semi-started with the album Thanatophobia that would more so start focusing on Marc Sirdoreus rather than the character Marc With a C. From Thanatophobia,

I would recommend the song No Kidding for a more silly song about Marketers on TV trying to sell you on everything. But the album is mostly serious like ""You're Gonna Have to Kill Me"" about never giving up on life, ""Informed Consent"" that is about a rocky relationship where his partner would lie to him and broke his consent.

Sorry about. Ranting so much about different Marc with a C songs. He just has so big of a back catalogue it didn't feel right to just say one thing. All of these songs can be found in the albums mentioned on his spotify I put next to his name in the Artist field "

(Formatted <3)

[eternal-armin]

don't fear the reaper.

just like alcohol, weed made you pretty honest. that included the thing that terrified you the most; death. reader: neutral. cw: discussions about death, thanatophobia (fear of death), anxiety. it's a bit shorter than usual. i didn't want to risk digging for an unsatisfying conclusion.

while smoking weed with eddie, you, expectedly, had no filter. not for the good things, not for the bad things, not for the dirty things. a lot of funny moments had come from that fact.

(don't fear) the reaper was playing over the speakers at a volume that normally would've given you a headache. right now, though, it was just nice for all your thoughts to be swished away by the soft rock. eddie was sitting back against the foot of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, legs crossed. you were laying on your back on the ground, unafraid to put the joint to your lips without turning or raising your head. and somehow, through your perfectly hazy mind, thoughts were forming.

"you ever wonder who was right?" you ask, finding an equilibrium for your arm to rest at, elbow on the ground.

eddie had no clue what you said, promptly turning down the music. just a bit. "what?"

"y'know. who was right. about, like—like the, the... afterlife. thing." as gently sluggish as your words were, they had a certain speed to them. your eyes, already both reddened and glazed over, held a certain hollow ponderance to them. thinking about death was sobering even when you were high as a kite.

"what kind of afterlives are there?" eddie asked, taking the joint from your hand for a hit of his own.

"well... heaven and hell and purgatory, that's one of 'em. reincarnation too. resurrection., you counted off on your fingers. "there—there's some, some branches of all of those." you rubbed your eyes rather lazily. "the most compelling is that, like, y'know, there's nothing."

eddie peered at you for a second. "nothing?"

"yeah, man." finally you rose to sit up, slumping forward, far too deep in this wormhole of thought to care about your pawn posture. "'cause on, fuckin'—on one hand, the universe is wayyy too big and complicated for there to not be an afterlife, right? but on the other hand, it's a universe that can be, like, like—me- measured and understood and shit. we know so much about it but right now there are no guarantees about the afterlife." the way you spoke, eddie could tell—even in his own very high state—that you had been thinking about this a lot. you talked about it like a fan talking about their hyperfixation. "and we—we can't even comprehend 'nothing'! that's—th-that's weird. we always picture a black void but that's... that's still something. still something.

"i gotta be honest, for the past, uhm, few months, my nightly... ni—nightly routine has been, uh, to lay awake scared to die. for at least, like, three hours. and then go to sleep and have these weird-ass fuckin' dreams." you broke into a smile, and then a laugh. "i'm terrified of it, man! i thought i was over my fear of death, y'know, because... i've faced it more than once, oooh, right? yeah. but i'm not over it apparently. maybe it's 'cause my friends are dying."

you maintained your smile and nearly laughed through your words. but your eyes retained their fear. really, fear was an understatement.

so that's why you had seemed so preoccupied over the past few months.

"the only thing that's, like, ever calmed me down was this... article, i saw, a few days ago. it—i-it said, uhm, something along the lines of, uh, 'quantum... something proves consciousness moves to another universe after death.'" you began wringing your hands, jumping when you accidentally cracked your knuckles. you mumbled a 'jesus christ, i can't believe i did that again.' "i don't even know if it's real. i'm too scared to look into it. but that's the only thing that's gotten me able to sleep. so—so, so..." you trailed off, your voice trembling with the beginnings of sobs. "i'm scared. i-i know, i'm still young, so obviously i don't feel like i'm... ready to be d—to be dead n' with the world. but i could always die right now. there is nothing stopping me from dying young."

eddie watched you delicately rub away the tears tracing lines down your cheeks before laying back down, thumping against the floor like a puppet without its puppeteer. sure, you hadn't always been 100% happy, but neither had you ever been so open about being this deeply shaken. you spoke like the topic matter was light, nothing to be concerned about, when it was quite the opposite.

"[y/n], i... i have no clue who's, uh, 'right.' all i know is that this is the life i'm living right now. so i better live it like i want to. y'know?" he reached out and grabbed your hand. you intertwined your fingers with his, and perhaps your grip was a little bit tighter than you thought it was, but eddie didn't really mind. he gently ran his thumb over your fingers, a gesture that always calmed you down. "i totally get being scared to die. and scared to die young, especially considering everything that's going on in this fucked-up world right now. shit is bad. i am not sugarcoating things, i know you're strong. which brings me to my second point;" he paused, seeing your eyes flick to meet his.

"you are a fucking beast, dude!" both of you cracked up. it was a pleasant harmony. "at least take comfort in the fact that you've saved the world. multiple times, multiple times! you are the most metal person i've ever met, and, like, i'm me. that is high praise, dude!" your laugh was so lighthearted and honey-sweet. your eyes had smile lines, your cheeks had dimples, from smiling so brightly. it seemed impossible that someone as sweet and happy as you was so scared deep down, and so hesitant to talk about it.

if you weren't happy, the group would fracture. if the optimist suddenly couldn't see the glass as half full, the world would seem a lot more scary. but, at the very least, not all of your joy was falsified.

"you'll be remembered, rockstar. you'll always be remembered." and then, he broke out the dungeon master voice. "though your body may leave this cursed mortal coil, forever will your soul rest in the hearts of those you saved, and those with whom you fought." that voice always kept you giggling. and that was just amplified by the mary jane. "whatever happens after we die is irrelevant, we all face it at some point. so just live your life in a way that you won't regret it! whether i'm your soulmate in the next life or we see the nothing-void for all eternity, it doesn't matter, bro. do you like your life?"

"aside from, uhm, the realization of hell?"

"aside from the realization of hell, do you like your life."

"hell yeah, dude. i mean, like, i have you, number one. number two, hellfire. number three... food." you broke out in laughter again. "and, like, you're tied for the rest."

"aww, you're so sweet, i could just eat you up." eddie leaned down above you, dotting kisses across your face. your laughter was absolutely adorable, and he just refused to let you kiss him back. "don't even think about it, cutie, i'm not lettin' you do that. you can kiss me all you want later but right now i'm gonna kiss you until your lips are red. just to remind you why i'm 1-10 on your leaderboard." all your hazy mind could think of were the fun times you'd shared while high. how they all started out like this, and how you enjoyed every single one. but this was much more affectionate and wholesome, not hard and needy. you weren't official and may never be, but it made you feel like pure light to know that he just wanted to make you feel better.

[fates-theysband]

this time, this time, where did you go?

"a drabble" i said, you know, like a liar

used one of the drabblecember prompts by @timothymcgees, in this case number 6, "falling asleep somewhere that isn't the bed".

cws: brief mention of blood, descriptions of dying, other possible thanatophobia triggers. also one line that could be read as suggestive (but is not meant that way)

--

Your boss, the highest authority in the Universe, has worked at the Office for an incalculable number of years.

The profile was still warm from the fax machine, and the scent of ink seemed altogether sharper than it normally did–it was as if, Fate thought to himself, this particular profile had been marked right in front of him. What’s more, it seemed to be growing stronger, rather than fading as the ink absorbed into the paper. It was harsh enough to make him dizzy.

Serious, perhaps too austere, and dedicated. Often fails at attempts of humour.

Had his hands always been this gnarled and withered, always had these bulging, bony knuckles and cracked, yellowing nails? He wasn’t consciously tightening his grip, at least not that he could tell, and yet the profile started to crumple in his (shaking, he realized) hands. The ink on the lettering seemed to shimmer in the light of the sun setting behind him.

Depressed, despondent, morose–extremely tired of their job.

It was hard to tell if the dark liquid dripping onto his desk was the ink running from the skull marking at the bottom of the profile or the blood running from his mouth. Even if there hadn’t been metallic-tasting liquid pooling in his throat–quickly, too quickly, more quickly than was normal for even a fatally injured human let alone a god–he still wouldn’t be able to manage more than the shallow, gurgling breaths he was currently taking, it being that even those were excruciating. His senses were fading, he could feel it, but he could hear, faintly, a door opening, followed by heavy footsteps striding toward his desk.

The last thing he saw as he slumped forward was a figure in a black cloak–one of his reapers, no doubt, though he didn’t have the strength to look up to see their face–standing over him, watching his demise in cold silence. As his vision faded, the figure reached out, gripped his shoulder, and–

“Babe? Are you okay?”

The gentle shaking and even gentler voice were enough to rouse Fate from what he now realized was an impromptu nap at his desk. As he opened one of his eyes, he saw that there was, indeed, a figure standing over him–his glasses had slipped off with the way his head rested against his arms, but even without their assistance he’d recognize that ruffled tunic, patched eye, and shock of purple hair anywhere.

“Forgive me,” he murmured in response, sliding his glasses back on and sitting back upright, making a brief futile attempt to rub away the indentations from where his face had been pressed against his cuff buttons. Looking back up at his beloved–their worried expression now rendered in stark clarity–he continued, “I’m all right, Charlemagne. There’s no need to worry about me.”

Charlie moved their hand to entwine their fingers with Fate’s own. “Are you sure? You don’t normally, y’know, pass out at your desk like that.” They attempted a laugh, but it seemed forced–an attempt to lighten the mood that fell flat even to them. More quietly, they added, “Have you been sleeping okay?”

Fate looked away slightly, softly admitting, “No. Not recently.”

“Do you wanna talk about it? You know I’m always here.” They punctuated the statement by reaching up with their other hand and gently smoothing back a strand of Fate’s hair that had popped free of his meticulously sculpted hairstyle. Their gentle touch and soft words were almost starting to lull him back to sleep, but he held on.

“Actually,” he answered, “if it isn’t too much to ask, would you…join me in my quarters tonight?” The way such a question could potentially be interpreted hit immediately after, and he could feel his face flush as he quickly added, “I simply think I might be able to sleep better knowing you’re there.”

Charlie responded with a gentle chuckle–genuine, this time. “Yeah, absolutely. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me to. I just want you to be okay.”

Fate raised Charlie’s hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss on their knuckles, then said, “I will be. As long as I have you, I will be.”

[thehomothings]

Analysis of Kite's conflicting moralities, relationship with death, and the toll reincarnation may take on one's psyche

So, today I decided to compile all the thoughts I have had about Kite's interesting worldview since the first time I saw him into one post, mostly for my own sake, really. If you're familiar with the few posts I've made, you know it's gonna be a mess, but hopefully a comprehensible mess.

A heads up, this is going to be spoiler-heavy, and very much deal with subjects of death and dying as a whole. Also, some of these conclusions are drawn from my own experiences and close brushes with death, I'm not going to go into much detail but it might get personal and definitely dark. I'm not even sure if I can call this a meta-analysis, and I'm obviously no expert, so mayhaps take all of this with a grain of salt.

Been getting into drawing lately, and during the more simple and mindless part of the painstaking process of dotting every single star in this, I let my thoughts wander through the latest part of the fic I'm writing, and I got a better grasp on what exactly made Kite such an elusive character to me.

I'm not quite sure why I got so attached to Kite. Perhaps it was the air of tragedy surrounding him, how despite his sordid past he remained still open and gentle even if outlined by a healthy dose of cynicism.

But sometimes, I think it's the fact that he is so paradoxical. He's brave, yet fears death to such a degree that creates a whole Nen ability around it, is a pacifist yet will not hesitate to spill blood for his own sake or someone else's. Despite the many ultimatums and warnings of 'I will not protect you', he gave his arm and then his life to save Gon and Killua. He approaches each hunt and battle with a clear plan of action in mind, but his Hatsu takes the form of a roulette that gives him random weapons which are never what he wants, but what he seems to need for that exact situation, which he cannot dispel without using. When he draws a weapon, the decision is locked in and his or his opponent's fate is sealed. That's why each time he dubbs his weapon a bad roll. Every time he has to gamble, he sees himself as having run out of luck. When it comes to having to choose between himself and somebody else...well, there had never been a choice. In fact his aversion to using it may feed into its sheer power that we, unfortunately, saw too little of.

Let's go over his very first appearance when he saves Gon from the mother Foxbear.

It's not hard to see the strain searching for Ging has put on him; he's rash, prone to anger and punching a child for daring to get into trouble. In his mind, he's failing at his most important task, has not yet earned the right to call himself a hunter despite being in possession of his very own hunter license.

After killing the mother Foxbear and raging about having done so, he says this interesting line:

So yes, he finds killing for any reason rather irksome as most would do, yet I think something deeper caused him to absolutely lose it in this scene:

He had not been aware of Gon's identity, and despite being an animal lover and a naturalist, he made a choice to save the human instead of allowing nature to run its course. In fact, he says: 'No beast that harms a human must be allowed to live.'

How does one weight one life against another? How is the worth of it determined? The value of life... an impossible choice he's faced with and a choice which he seems to regret to some degree.

The Foxbear cub.

Here, he's speaking from experience, a tangible loss he has felt himself, and a hard and bitter life he does not want to impose on the cub.

His backstory is exclusive to the 2011 anime adaptation but there are hints alluding to it in the manga, for example, the fact that he does not seem to know his birthplace, or:

The choice of words is chilling.

Reading between the lines, one could draw the conclusion that he is an orphan. Something supporting this hypothesis is how he visibly deflates after Gon tells him his parents have (presumably) died.

So we see he is willing to go against his own moral code of not killing as to not doom another living being to the life he led, a lonely, hopeless existence that could barely be called one. He saw it best to put down the cub rather than leave it to die a painful, slow death.

The reason Kite himself isn't as cynical and cold-hearted as one would be after witnessing cruelty in its rawest form is those small crumbs of human kindness which he may have found in Ging.

It was not only a chance at an honorable life being Ging's apprentice gave him, but it also 'saved' him from being broken and twisted into what he hated and worst of all, death.

If we take that one minute of backstory as canon to his character-which I find myself inclined to do- these quirks of his make much more sense. He lived on the run. He lived on the knife's edge between giving up or pushing forwards. He lived as so a wrong move could be the difference between survival and the end.

Between rock and a hard place creates a mentality of black and white, absolute good or extreme evil, this or that. Except in reality, it's much harder than that. Deciding who to save and who to strike down is a heavy burden to bear.

It's almost easy to see how struggling to keep surviving could lend itself to a crippling fear of death and subsequently developing a Nen ability which once more goes against his own moral code in order to give himself a second chance...yet something about it strikes me as unlikely when I look at it this way.

Living life knowing it could end at any moment has the opposite effect, at least for me it did. One comes to accept that it is fleeting and while not eager to let it go, when death eventually and inevitably does come, there is no fighting it.

Especially when there is no hope that tomorrow will be a better day than this one.

Frequent near-death experiences numb one's fear in a way, even if it drives them to take precautions that render it unlikely to happen again and results in c-PTSD, but still, it does. It sparks a certain nihilistic view of 'if it all can end so easily, then what's the point of it all?'

Unless there are things to live for, a sure promise of a better future, and Ging gave Kite that. When he faced the threat of losing his second chance at life:

Really, what else could lead someone to develop the ability of 'the hell I'm going to die like this'?

I think a separate event, an even more brutal near-death experience that almost cost him his life as the hunter he so strived to be set him off to develop the secret roll of Crazy Slots, what I call Roll No.0, Ars moriendi. Unlike other weapons, it cannot come up in random and is directly summoned by him, or better said, summon by his overwhelming will to keep going and hopelessness of fighting a losing battle. I don't believe roll No.3 was the weapon that allowed him to reincarnate. I've named that one Wand of Fortune, a sort of armor instead of an offensive weapon since I find it hard to believe Kite, a Conjurer, would not focus on defences as well, and I will go into both mechanisms of these weapons hopefully in his backstory.

Despite knowing this battle to be a pointless one and being acutely aware of his soon to be demise, he did not immediately draw Ars moriendi, no, he stayed back and fought for the sake of the boys, kept Neferpitou occupied until they could reach safety. We can see evidence of this in the aftermath of the battle that seemed to have gone on until dawn, a torn apart landscape only signaling a fraction of the devastation that was Kite's power unleashed. It still wasn't enough.

In the anime sub I watched, when Gon apologizes to Ging about Kite's death, Ging said a sentence that infuriated me, because it belittled the utter suffering of the NGL trio.

"He would not die in your place." (No screenshot, sorry)

And I remember practically shouting at the screen, screaming 'how could you possibly say that? Of course he did. He absolutely did die in their place. How could you not know your own apprentice? Why-'

It was only last night that it hit me why Ging would say that.

Once upon a time, maybe Kite would not have given his life for anybody under any circumstances, even if he had a way out of it all. He would still need to die to come back to life.

His Thanatophobia could be attributed to the (possibly untreated) PTSD of the near-death experience in his later life, being so certain of dying that finding himself alive afterwards drove him to never want to go through that again. He quieted his fear by creating a sort of a loophole, that even if he lost the battle he would remain. Ging remembered that, but as evidence shows, something changed. Maybe he healed a bit, perhaps growing up dulled his fear to a certain degree, but eventually when it came down to his life or another's, he didn't choose himself.

Now, I can hear you saying 'but he didn't die, so what are you going on about??' And so I reply: Yes, he is alive, but he did die. He experienced that painful, horrible moment of staring death in the eyes and thinking 'This is it, this is the end', went through the actual process of having his soul removed from his body. And that moment stretches into infinity, ten lifetimes condensed into the mere seconds before oblivion.

Dying isn't so hard if one stays dead.

It's not so easy to open one's eyes and find oneself alive again after that, no matter how much that is the heart's desire. It's difficult, nigh-impossible to reconcile with life and walk amongst the living when everything had been so final, when death had been accepted to its fullest.

So Kite awakens, the twin of Meruem and back from the dead, his mind and identity both intact and fractured. In that he is Kite is no mistaking, yet he is not the same gentle pacifist whose first reaction upon sensing a monster's aura was to shield two kids from it at the cost of his arm.

I don't think many of you are familiar with Zoroastrian ideology, but Togashi is known for loving his religious imagery, and it's not only Christianism he derives inspiration from (evidence of which can be seen all over Kite's character and resurrection).

In Zurvanism-a branch of Zoroastrianism- there is talk of the twin spirits: Ahura Mazda -epitome of all that is good- and Ahriman -epitome of all that is evil-, the parent god Zurvin decides that the firstborn may rule in order to bring "heaven, hell, and everything in between."

Upon becoming aware of this fact, Ahriman forcibly tears through the womb to emerge first. Sounding familiar yet?

Zurvan relents to this turn of events only on one condition: Ahriman is given kingship for 9000 years, and then Ahura Mazda may rule for eternity.

Meruem ruled for 40 days, his death leaving the throne vacant for ant Kite, wearing a dead girl's face and seeming to be brewing some nefarious plan. No more is there any sign of that unrelenting pacifism and the sanctity of life he held so high, losing his own may have only served to show him how meaningless the pain and suffering he went through had been, dying only to be reborn as a member of the species that killed him. It may be that he has no desire to rule over the remaining Chimera ants or create an army of his own-

Yet I dread to think what a broken mind possessing limitless power might do to the world.

And that's it. If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you found it interesting, stay tuned, as I think a lot and I will make it your problem.

[cold-b-writing]

Thanatophobia: Chapter I

The first entry to a fanfic series I've been meaning to write for 3 years. I finally got out of that writer's block and figured out how I wanna start this. I pretty much know how this is gonna play out, but still. That was the first obstacle. There isn't a set deadline for the future chapters, but I will do my best. Image was made with Rinmaru Games, artwork is not my own. 

The horses struggled to trudge through the snow, even on a pathway, the snow piled so high, and the carriage they were pulling along was so heavy; there was no chance that the driver could make it to his destination by the end of the day. He would be lucky if he could even find a place to stop and rest; he was prepared for the winter, but he still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of having to spend another night out into the wilderness, especially since he still had to keep an eye on the passenger.

The boy riding along the back was a strange character, always having his nose in one book or another, rather timid in the few times he does speak, and the worst part about it was that he seemed young and inexperienced. If one were to approach the boy from behind, they could easily confuse him for an old man facing away; but that notion would disappear the moment that passenger would turn around. The carriage seemed to have hit a large stone hidden in the snow, as the ride got even more bumpy than it already was. The driver had to tug on his reigns and calm down the horses, the commotion made the passenger drop his book.

“Sorry about that,” the driver called out. “Are you alright?” The passenger bent over to grab his book, looked up to the driver with pitch pine-eyes when asked and nodded his head. The driver sighed, knowing that would be all he would get from the boy, he just kept his eyes on the road and made sure his horses stayed on the path, as far as he can make I out. Things were only going to get worse, as things were before, he could still see the mountains and the river a few miles away, however, with the path he was taking, he was starting to make his way into a pine forest.

It wasn’t too long before making it inside before he could see nothing but the surrounding trees in the area. The forest made him nervous, at least if something were coming towards him when he was out on the path before, he would be able to see it long before reaching him; now he’d be lucky to spot something a couple yards away from him.

Sure enough, the driver’s suspicions became true, he passed by a couple of figures emerging from the trees onto the path. He heard a shrill cry from behind as a female called out to him, asking him to stop. The driver didn’t have much time before they would be out of sight, he didn’t even think about whether it was a good idea to stop for them or not. Instinctually, he pulled hard on the reigns, having the carriage come to a full stop after a good five seconds.  

The driver cursed under his breath, wondering why he even bothered stopping. Stopping for a couple of people randomly found in the woods was just asking for trouble. He had no idea who these people were and for all he knew, they could be bandits. Regardless, even if he whipped the reigns and got the horses moving again, the two figures were not so distant anymore. It would be impossible to get away without them climbing the carriage at this point; and if they were bandits, there’d be no point in trying to escape anyway, they’d have some trap ready to go.

The driver wasn’t ready for a fight, and the passenger in the back didn’t look like he could handle himself much better. He felt the carriage shift and heard a man being shoved into the carriage. The woman in leather armor climbed up not long after and thanked the driver, pulling the man up off the ground and shoving him onto the bench opposite of the first passenger.

“Thank you, mister.” The woman exclaimed as she sat between her companion and the latter they climbed. “Two of us woulda frozen t’ death if i’ weren’t for you.” The driver sighed and turned to face his new passengers.

“Just happy to see a couple of friendly faces around these parts.” The driver forced a smile and nodded.

“A happy face.” The woman pointed at herself, correcting the driver. “This man here, not so much.” she pointed at the man who had a black hood over his head, having pointed ears and looked older than everyone else in the carriage, all he could do was chuckle when she brought him up.

“What’s the deal with the dagger-head here?” the driver asked. The elf had his hands tied, but the moment he heard what the driver called him, he looked up and spat at the driver. At that instant, the woman elbowed him right in the nose, causing him to rear his head back from the pain, reaching up with his tied hands to try to cover up his now bloody face.

The boy sitting from across could only stare at everyone in shock for a split second, then going back to reading from his book to try and avoid getting involved.

“I’m glad you asked, mister.” The woman smiled condescendingly. “This right here, is none other than Morqen Reshert,” she slowed down and emphasized the name as if the driver should know who that is. “he is wanted for multiple counts of larceny, burglary, theft, vandalism, perjury, and my favorite,” she began to chuckle to herself. “public intoxication…”

The driver wasn’t laughing, he his expression dropped, and he glared at the woman. “What in the Nine Hells are you doing, bringing a damn criminal to my carriage?” his tone became gruff. “Are you trying to bring me trouble?”

“It ain’t like that.” The woman shook her head, raising her hands in the air. “I’m just doing my duty as an adventurer and getting some work around here done.” She looked at the elf. “Look, there ain’t nobody coming here to save ‘im. He was running with some others not too long ago, but they didn’t really care much for him. They was just itchin’ to get rid of him and I gave them an excuse.” The elf laughed and shook his head in response.

“This doesn’t sit right with me.” The driver shook his head. “It sounds too good of a story.”

“Look mister.” The woman smiled pleadingly at the driver. “I’ll tell you what, the keeb’s worth fifteen-hundred gold pieces. If you let me ride this carriage, I’ll be willing to split the bounty with you.”

“By how much?” the driver raised an eyebrow. The woman turned her head quizzically. “You said, you would split the bounty, how are we gonna split it?”

“I can give you thirty percent for the ride, that should cover it, right?” the woman smiled. “Its just a ride to the closest village.” The driver laughed and shook his head.

“I hope you find another carriage soon.” The driver chuckled. The woman widened her eyes in horror.

“Forty percent!” she piped up. “Please mister, that should be enough for the ride and hazard pay.” She turned her head to the elf. The elf wiped his nose with the sleeve of his cloak.

“Half.” The driver stated. The woman was slack jawed. “If you give me half, I’ll give you your ride.”

“You’d really take advantage of a woman like this?” the adventurer asked.

“Well,” the driver chuckled to himself. “way I see it is this is precious cargo.” He pointed at the elf. “Very expensive cargo…not only that, but you ain’t got much of a choice, do you?”

“This is fuckin’ extortion.” The woman growled, showing what few rotten teeth, she had left. “What’s to stop me from just taking your carriage for myself?”

“Think of it like this, miss.” The driver smiled. “You can’t keep an eye on him and make your way back to town. Not with him alive at least. From what I can gather, he ain’t worth nearly as much dead. And if you ran into the people he used to work with, well I can’t help but just assume you didn’t acquire this man legally.” He raised a finger, pointed at her with a crossbow hidden under his sleeve. “I’d best be careful with my words if I were you,” the driver grunted low. “you’re lucky I’m still giving you the ride after that pathetic little threat of yours.”

The woman huffed and crossed her arms, shaking her head. “Fine…” she muttered. The elf started chuckling to himself and the woman immediately punched him in the back of the head. The elf fell over immediately, hitting his head on the back of the driver’s seat and ended up on the floor. He wasn’t getting up anytime soon.

The ranger smiled as she rubbed her fist, admiring her work. She turned her attention to the white-haired passenger sitting across from her and grimaced. “We gonna have a problem too, frilly boy?” she grunted.

The passenger didn’t respond, he just kept his face down in his book. He didn’t even make any indication of listening to the woman.

The ranger chuffed and rolled her eyes, she wasn’t fond with anyone on this carriage, but she didn’t care. For her, all that mattered was getting all the money she could. Right now, that mean making sure that her elven friend would be getting to the nearest prison in the area.

The carriage driver turned back to his horses, he made his point clear. He would be sticking close with the ranger for a while to make sure she keeps her end of the deal.

He didn’t like the idea of having this dealing in front of his other passenger, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He was grateful that the boy knew when to keep quiet, he wasn’t sure if he could tolerate anymore scuffling in the carriage than what was already going on.

He whipped the reigns and got the horses moving through the woods again. He had to make sure to find some place to take shelter. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a map, looking at part of it with one hand with his other hand still holding the reigns.

He spent half his time looking at the map to see where he was and where he was going, and he spent the other half of his time keeping an eye on the road, looking for signs. Occasionally, he would turn around to check on his passengers.

The ranger was playing with her quiver and twirling her arrows around in her fingers. She had her bow to her side, and she would look down at the elf every now and then. Eventually she put her quiver down and decided to take a look at her knuckles that were starting to look a bit roughed up. She would spend some time taking care of them with the supplies she had on hand.

The elf was still dead asleep on the floorboards. He wore some leather armor of his own dyed black with a fur cloak around him. He had some unrecognizable tools attached to his belt. Whatever those contraptions could be, they likely weren’t used for anything productive.

Looking over at the last passenger, out of everyone in the back, he was the strangest of them all. The boy gave off an aura that he was more capable than he was letting on. Despite that, he was the least armed of the bunch. He seemed to only have a satchel and the robes on him, along with his trusty book. In fact, that seemed to be all he had.

The boy didn’t look like any kind of scholar the driver has ever seen. Even if he did, he would have no business being on the North West corner of the continent. He had been on this ride the longest and he still didn’t even share his name.

Keeping all of this in mind, he turned his head and finally saw a signpost at a crossroads. Looking down at his map, he could tell that the closest settlement he could head to would be a city called Loudwater. From what he heard about it, it was a rather successful city filled mostly with humans and half elves.

He turned back around to look at the ranger in the back, if she were as loud and obnoxious with them as she was with him, she likely wouldn’t last long. They likely wouldn’t take too kindly to the colorful slurs she referred to her captive with. He made a remark himself, but he was smart enough to keep his opinion to himself when he should. She likely didn’t share that same attitude.

Regardless, he didn’t really care about what would happen to her. The only thing he wanted was a portion of the bounty that he managed to haggle out of her. After that, he never wanted to hear from her again.

The man sighed and looked off into the distance only to see footsteps not that far away. He turned his head to the other side and saw footsteps that looked similar from that direction as well. He pulled on his reigns and stopped the carriage. Everyone jerked back and forth for a split second and then looked over at the driver.

“I thought you said no one was coming to save him.” The man turned around, facing the ranger again.

“There ain’t!” the woman barked. Then she paused and looked around, she noticed that something was off as well.

“Like Hell there ain’t!” the driver spoke through his teeth. “This is your fault!”

“Hey there, mister!” a voice called out. Soon, two men riding a horse emerged from the trees, one was steering the horse towards the front of the carriage, the other had an arrow nocked already, pointing it at the driver. “We couldn’t help but notice that you happen to be in some interesting company.”

“Expensive?” the driver tried to play dumb. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, that elf on the back happens to be someone of great interest around here.” The rider smiled. He looked over at the ranger and smiled. “Miss Vedetta, pleasure to see you again.”

“The fuck is this!?” the ranger motioned at the two in front of the carriage. While this was happening, another pair with similar attire to the ones in front of the carriage approached from behind. A rider was steering the horse and the other had an arrow nocked, pointing it at the woman’s back. “We had a deal, Cledus, you said you didn’t even like him!”

“I did…” Cledus nodded. “But then I figured, why not just turn in the bounty myself? Get a few arrows while I’m at it.”

“Now hold on...” The driver raised a hand. “I don’t want no part of this, if we give you the elf and her, will you let us go?”

“Sure, we’ll let you go.” Cledus smiled. “But here’s the thing, mister. These woods here, this is Bull Crew territory. If you wanna pass, you’re gonna have to pay the toll.”

“How much is the toll?” The driver tried to play dumb again, this only caused Cledus to chuckle to himself.

“Show me your pockets…” the bandit laughed. “Give me everything you got.”

“I got a better idea.” The driver muttered. He aimed the wrist crossbow at the horse and shot it right in the leg. Immediately, the horse whined in pain and lifted itself in the air, kicking the air in a frenzy. This knocked the rider and Cledus off the horse, and the mare soon ran off into the woods. Cledus grabbed and whipped the reigns as fast as he could, causing the horses to move at break-neck speed. The carriage simply ran over the people on the ground.

“Cledus!” the archer from behind shouted. “You’re fucking dead!” He tried to take a shot at the driver, but the carriage on the move already caused him to not lead well enough, he ended up hitting a tree instead of his intended target.

The rider went chasing after the carriage, the archer reaching to his quiver to get ready to shoot again. The driver was sweating bullets, trying to get everyone out of this predicament. He turned to the ranger. “If you wanna get out of this alive, keep them off of me!”

The ranger nodded and grabbed her bow. Pulling an arrow from her quiver and tried to aim at the bandits after them. The strange boy ducked behind the bench and tried to stay out of the fight. It was better off that way, as far as she cared, he would just get in the way.

The archer took another shoot and it could have caused a major injury. It scraped past her armor, and it lodged itself into the bench behind the ranger. Vedetta sighed in relief and took a shot herself. The rider turned the horse to the other side of the carriage, with the way he executed the maneuver, it was done just well enough to make the ranger miss.

“Just go home!” the driver shouted. “This ain’t even worth it, anymore!” the bandits didn’t listen. They kept trying to shoot down the driver. Every time the archer tried to take a shot at him, Vedetta would try to shoot at them, making them lose their angle.

It was clear that if they wanted to stop the carriage, they would have to deal with the ranger first. The bandits looked at each other for a second, like they were sharing an idea and didn’t even need to speak. Both nodded to one another, the archer then pulled out another arrow and now kept trying to shoot Vedetta.

While this was happening, the rider got his horse closer and closer to the carriage with every passing second. Vedetta would try to take a shot at the horse or the horseman, but the archer kept shooting at her, making her duck and cover every time that happened.

“Ready!?” the archer called out to his partner. The partner nodded, and soon started to try to stand up on the saddle, hanging desperately onto the handle while planting his feet on the battle. “Now!”

The rider lept off the horse and grabbed onto the bench, Vedetta tried to get up to knock the man off, but the archer took another shot at her. As she got up, she got hit in the shoulder, the arrowhead went all the way through the shoulder plate.

The ranger screamed as she reared back in pain and ducked down behind cover again. The rider hanging off the side of the carriage smiled and climbed over to get into where the passengers were hiding.

The bandit chuckled as he reached to the side of his belt and pulled a dagger out from its hilt. “You gonna stop the carriage now?” the bandit called out.

The strange boy was still hiding behind cover all this time, hood over his head. He looked up to see a large buff man smiling manically down at him. The boy didn’t get up, instead, he raised his hand and a green smoke cloud shot out from the palm of his hand.

The smoke cloud made its way right into the bandit’s face, he wasn’t ready for whatever it is the cloud was made of. The bandit started coughing hoarsely, his eyes becoming bloodshot. His face turned red and he grimaced. The grip on his dagger tightened and he took a swing at the boy.

The boy flinched and raised an arm instinctually, covering any vital areas. He felt a sharp pain tear through his robe and rip across his forearm. The strike was powerful enough to knock the boy back.

Vedetta still hiding behind cover, broke the arrow lodged in her shoulder in half, pulling it out from one side and then the other. She bit her lip and glared up at the bandit fighting the frilly boy.

The boy himself gritted his teeth, fighting through the pain. He looked up at the bandit and clenched his fist. Soon enough, he swiped his arm in a swinging motion at the bandit standing above him.

A strange green substance was flung from his hand landing right into the bandit’s face. Immediately, he screamed as whatever this was, it was eating away at the flesh on his head. He dropped his dagger and tried to scrub whatever this was off his face, anything to make the overwhelming pain go away.

Vedetta shot up and charged at the man, as she did an arrow flew right past her head. She raised her knee high up in the air and put all of her weight into the kick, landing right into the bandit’s stomach.

The ranger wasn’t proficient when it comes to close quarters combat, but at a time like this, she didn’t see any other way. Luckily, it paid off, because she delivered enough force to knock the large man off of the carriage and make him land headfirst on the road.

As the man landed, there was a loud snap as his head turned in such a way where heads shouldn’t turn naturally. Everyone around, however, didn’t hear the snap, there was too much of a commotion going on to hear any kind of snap at all. He immediately collapsed on the road, not getting up, just laying there as the snow continued to fall on him.

The archer watched everything play out in horror, and then glared at the carriage with a deep, burning hatred. The money didn’t matter anymore, none of the goods or the bounty mattered anymore either. At this point, he just wanted to watch these people suffer.

He hoisted himself onto the saddle and readied himself to take another shot. Reaching for another arrow, nocking it and pointing it at the driver.

The strange boy looked up and saw what the archer was trying to do. He flung another bit of that strange green substance at the archer. The archer, however, saw what it did and intended to not let it touch him, he ducked his head, losing his grip on the arrow. He would have to nock it again, but it seems that the boy wouldn’t bother him again, seeing as the boy immediately ducked for cover right after throwing the green substance.

Vedetta grabbed her bow once again, nocking her arrow and pointed it at the last bandit who was after them. “Suck on this!” she shouted as she let her arrow loose. It scraped the side of the horseman’s head. He could feel his flesh rip open as the arrow flew past him, he grunted in pain and frustration.

The bandit was looking to return the favor. He was pulling out an arrow himself. He was getting ready to take out the ranger, tired of her antics and ready to finish the job.

The driver saw what was happening and shook his head, reloading his wrist crossbow, knowing he would need to help finish this. The boy shot up again and flung more of that green substance at the archer.

The archer ducked his head and the stuff flew right past him, hitting the ground instead. He readied his arrow and pointed it at Vedetta, when she tried to poke her head out of cover, he took a shot and it made her duck.

The driver turned around and aimed his crossbow at the bandit’s horse. He wasn’t going to waste time like the others were. He shot the horse right in the leg and the horse whinnied in pain, rearing its head back and forth. The bandit was starting to lose control of his horse.

At that moment, both Vedetta and the boy saw their opportunity and the two of them shot up from cover. Neither of them wasted their time taking their shots. Vedetta had an arrow nocked and ready to go.

The boy flung more of that green substance at the man, the bandit looked up only to have that substance land right in his face. He howled in pain, dropping his bow as he tried to scrub it off of him like his friend did earlier.

Vedetta aimed right for the man’s chest and took her shot. The bandit stopped screaming, and as he dropped his arms, she could see that there was no skin on his face anymore. It was all just muscle and bone, whatever that green stuff was, it ate away at his flesh. Whatever was still left was still bubbling and sizzling on him.

The bandit soon flopped over to the side, but his foot was still caught up in the stirrup, there was a loud thud as he hit the ground. The ranger and the boy watched as the horse dragged its former rider across the ground and into the woods, leaving a trail of blood in the direction it ran.

The boy started catching his breath as he collapsed onto his bench and leaning back. He shook his head as he looked over at the ranger.

Vedetta couldn’t help but chuckle to herself, amazed that they had all managed to make it out of that whole predicament. She took a deep breath and sighed, grateful that she got to live another day. She turned her attention back to the strange boy. “How in the Nine Hells are you able to do that?” she asked him. “That green stuff, what is it?”

“Its magic.” The boy finally spoke. “Just a couple of the few spells that I know.” He shook his head. “They aren’t the best, and I don’t know that many spells, but I know enough to get by.”

“What are you, some kind of sorcerer?” the ranger raised an eyebrow. “Heard you lot are born with magical powers, able to do some crazy things with it too.”

The boy shook his head. “No, I wasn’t born with it…” he sighed. “Everything I know about magic, I studied on my own. Anyone can learn it; you just need to take the time to do it.” Vedetta nodded, pulling herself back up onto a bench and sitting herself down.

The ranger reached into her satchel and pulled out a large red potion. She bit into the cork, pulled it out with her teeth and spit it. Downing the contents, the boy watched as all the red liquid of the bottle poured down her throat.

“Got any for me?” the boy asked as she was finishing up. The ranger raised an eyebrow and he looked at her expectantly. The ranger was staring at him for a second but then sighed and shook her head, giving in.

“Fine, sure why not?” she reached into her satchel again and pulled out another healing potion. “But only because you were helpful.” She said as she handed it to him. “Don’t expect any more favors.”

The boy thanked her and gripped the cork tightly and twisted it, taking much longer to pull it out than the ranger herself. He eventually got it off, but he ended up spilling a few drops of the potion onto his robes.

At this point, he didn’t really care about making a mess. He downed the contents of the potion and held the glass bottle out to her. “Want this back?” he asked. The ranger held up a hand and shook her head. The boy shrugged and put the empty glass in his satchel. Thinking he could use it to contain something useful later.

The ranger eventually pulled out a white rag and began tying it around her shoulder blade, biting into one end of the rag and using her hands to wrap it around her shoulder blade while she did so. When she was done, she tied a tight and secure knot at the front end of it where she could easily reach up and undo it.

The boy wasn’t really prepared for such an occasion, his arm was still bleeding slightly, but he just covered the wound with the sleeves of his robes. He didn’t have a rag or medical equipment to cover it up. However, he would make sure to get it looked at when they would reach town. The last thing he would want is an infection, he mentally chastised himself for not being ready for this king of situation as the driver kept riding down the path.

“Now then,” the driver started. “are you sure we aren’t going to have any more visitors for us now?” he sighed and shook his head. “Because I’m not sure if I’m not ready for another skirmish.”

“No, that was all of them,” The ranger sighed, “at least all of the ones that I ever met. I doubt they would risk going after us again for a while.”

“Alright…” the driver shook his head. He looked ahead, and he finally saw the wooden gates to a large village out of the woods. He could finally see his destination on the horizon. He smiled and sighed in relief. “who were those guys anyway? What even is this Bull-something?”

“Bull Crew.” Vedetta clarified. “They’s just a bunch of stupid orphan boys angry at the world. They picked the name because they thought it’d make them sound tough.” She chuckled to herself.

“Yeah well, for a bunch of stupid orphan boys, they nearly played you for a fiddle.” The driver huffed. “Are you sure that’s all of them?”

“How the Hell should I know?” Vedetta snapped back. “I only ever met that small handful you saw back there. And how was I supposed to know they was gonna go back on the deal?”

“You got one of their own sleeping beneath your feet.” The driver shook his head. “They sold out one of their own to you, a complete stranger, because you wiggled some money or your ass at them.” He raised his right arm in a shrugging motion. “That didn’t tip you off? You know that they don’t seem like the type to stick to a deal?”

“Well I didn’t know they was gonna come all this way after me?” The ranger shook her head. “Besides, what’s it matter? They ain’t gonna come after us no more. We made sure of that.”

“Yeah, at no small expense of my carriage.” The driver sighed.

“So? You’ll still be getting half the bounty on this fella, here.” She gently kicked the unconscious elf on the floorboards.

“Oh, I know.” The driver turned to face her. “I am going to make sure that I get my half of the bounty after all this. You and I miss, are gonna be spending a lotta time together in the near future, so I hope you aren’t already sick o’ this mug.”

The ranger laughed and shook her head. “Whatever…” she shrugged her shoulders but grunted in pain as she did so. She raised her hand and tightly gripped the wound on her shoulder.

The driver turned his attention back to the road. He still had to do his end of the job and make sure everyone made it to Loudwater in one peace. So far, getting that job done was more difficult than he could ever imagine, but its not like it was anything under his control.

“And you, frilly boy.” She looked over at the wizard who helped her. “I’ll tell you what, you handled yourself well back there. What’chu say if I buy you a round or two at the inn when we get there?”

“Sure…” the wizard chuckled. “and I’m not a frilly boy, I got a name…”

The ranger shook her head and turned her gaze back at him. “Alright boy, then tell me, what’s your name?”

“It’s Pilienries…” the wizard nodded. “But you can just call me Pil…”

[kuroopaisen]

your recent time stamp with suga really helped me articulate my own thoughts about existentialism and I just wanted to thank you again for that kindness you’ve brought on by making it. I have like daily panic attacks at the thought of dying and have trouble getting past that despite most of my line of thinking overlapping with suga’s. idk. your words just have a way of making the thoughts of life being meaningless seem less of a burden and more of a liberation from the limitations ppl might have about decisions that Seem difficult. I’m blabbering. TL;DR: thank you.

OMG OMG OMG this,,, this took me out in one hit, i’ll be honest. when i read this i just kind of laid there because,,, in all honesty, this is what i want to achieve with my writing at the end of the day. sure, most of my stuff on here is light-hearted fluff, but i hope that in some of what i put out, i can help someone articulate their own experience. 

the fact you’re saying that i’ve done something kind? i’m sdlkjfdslksfjd also; it is okay to blabber. i love to blabber. i am going to blabber right now and now we’re in the same boat 

if it makes you feel any better, i understand exactly what you mean. when i was younger (like,,, fifteen? sixteen?) i used to lie in bed and think about dying and get so anxious i had to get up and pace around my room. i still struggle with thanatophobia but! reading a lot of kahlil gibran helped ground me; it won’t make it all go away, but i highly recommend seeking out as much as you can from people who inspire and calm you to help you articulate yourself. i read nausea by jean-paul sartre when i was fifteen, and while i’m sure i didn’t understand it properly, it really helped me feel a sense of peace. it helped me feel understood (so, you know. i recommend that one). 

i think, at least from my perspective, a lot of people want there to be a meaning and to be a point, and if you feel like there isn’t one,,, well that’s literally one of the questions you get asked on those tests they make you take to see if you’re depressed (and i always have no idea how to answer them because,,, yes? i guess? but it’s not like,,, in a depressed way? what am i supposed to put down on this sliding scale?) 

but yeah, i’m gonna Shut Up now because my goodness have i written you a little essay,,, i don’t think any of it’s coherent but 

TL;DR: thank you for appreciating what i have to say. that means so, so much to me, and i appreciate you engaging with this fic in particular so genuinely and thoughtfully. i am going to go and Cry now--  

[blinkforman23]

The thought of dying pt. II

It happened again. The thought of dying. Thanatophobia always strikes out of nowhere. I’m watching an interesting historical sports documentary when it occurs to me. We’re all trying to leave behind a legacy whether that be a career, a child, or a conversation. In the end, we all die anyway, so what’s the difference? Will there come a time when everybody currently existing will be completely forgotten by a future society decades away? I’m sitting next to my girlfriend, still focusing on the screen with misty eyes, when I just want to let out a loud scream. I want to scream out all my anxiety I battle almost every day and distance the inevitability of death as much as I can. But I don’t. I stay silent. I remain calm. How? By now, I’m usually a sobbing mess exclaiming I don’t want to die like a broken record. Maybe because I’ve trained myself better to not break down mentally even while anxious. Maybe it was the present safety of my own home beside my lovely girl. Or maybe the documentary was that good it made me forget quicker. All I know right now is I’m embarking on a road trip into unknown territory for a nature vacation, and I’m terrified, especially with the coronavirus overtaking Texas. I can’t help but think I might suddenly die on this journey either by COVID-19 or the hands of a sadistic stranger in the middle of nowhere. I’m too young to fucking die. Yeah, I’ve progressed as a human being, but I haven’t garnered success or made a family yet. Worrying about all that only to be woken up by a tornado warning alert on my phone at 3:30am. Of course, I haven’t gone back to sleep. My woman is passed out mouth wide snoring as I’m hiding under the covers with my mind racing awaiting for the twister to take us. It didn’t though. I guess sheltering indoors has been the best solution nowadays. However, I have to go outside sometimes, and I don’t want to think about all the death that’s happening in the valley. The worse it becomes, the more scared I get. The summer has flown by since we’ve been limited in activities. While trying to remain sane during this global pandemic, I also need to live my life to get further from the thought of dying... But how can I when it seems like everything lately hits at random? I never thought I’d reach this far living, yet now that I have, dying, in any form, is the last thing I want anywhere near my attempting existence.

[savage-rhi]

Sky of Atoms: Death Stranding Fanfic-Ch. 2

HIGGS 1.0

Higgs’s body was swaying in the ocean, gently being cradled against the small waves. The water neither warm or cold, just present and in the moment. It was the safest he had felt in a long time. Subconsciously in the corner of his mind he wondered if this was what it felt like to be in the womb, to feel secure in the fact that something higher than you were keeping you from the harshness of the world outside. He could almost picture the sound of his mother's heartbeat, and how it echoed throughout the darkness he was in. Whatever comforts he had quickly subsided when from the depths of the water, a zombie version of his father rose up and opened its mouth, engulfing Higgs into a bottomless void. He could feel the air leaving his lungs, as if the very essence of his being was slowly being sucked into an oblivion. He struggled against the current, desperately trying to find a way out and as soon as he saw the sunlight glimmering on the surface of the ocean water, he burst through the top, taking in a sharp breath before slug like humanoids began to pull at him from all sides of his body. They screamed murderer and coward endlessly at him as if that would somehow bring them all back to life. 

Higgs struggled, tried to break free from the tar as his limbs were being pulled apart. He screamed as a world on fire flashed before his eyes, decimating forests and screaming animals and humans filled his ears, his father laughing at him the whole time yelling he had told him so before an image of Amelie smiling at him and shoving her hand into his chest to rip out his heart all but made him numb. 

Higgs shot up from his bed in a cold sweat, panting heavily as his body convulsed and shuddered. He groaned, his arms wrapping around himself to keep the jolts from hurting further. Tears flowed down his face as he tightened his eyes shut, rocking back and forth in a childlike fashion. He stayed that way for a solid hour, riding the wave out of his DOOMs withdrawal. It was only when the shocks down his spine subsided did he finally managed to get up and reach for a canteen of water on the floor. He chugged at it like a person finding an oasis in a dessert then tossed the metal container across the room. It hit the wall with a loud thud as he coughed, grumbling into his pillow once he collapsed. His right hand gripped the shallow excuse of a blanket that covered his body as he adjusted, lying on his back as his tired eyes searched the ceiling. Higgs was looking for any patterns he could find in the old place, something to bring him back to the present as he coughed and trembled from the tiny goosebumps that littered his skin. 

It had been three years since Higgs got his ass handed to him by Sam Bridges. Three years since he tried to wipe the slate clean of all life with the Extinction Entity at his side. Three years since he lost his powers granted by Amelie, and three years since those infected with DOOMs began to suffer from withdrawals due to the BTs and such being severed of their connection to this world. It felt longer than that to Higgs ever since the withdrawal had hit him. It felt like an eternity of chronic pain, and nothing seemed to stave it off. He had tried everything medication wise, even going so far as to dabble in illegal substances on the occasion, but it only made things worse. He blinked a few times, taking in a deep breath as he wiped away at his forehead, gently going over the tattoos covering him as he pondered if Sam Bridges himself was going through hell like he was. Regardless of the gossip most porters spoke of in the area, Higgs knew Sam was out there somewhere alive hiding out, much like himself. 

“Stupid fuck, playing Eagle Scout only to run away from the very people he served cause he knew deep down they were creeps.” Higgs said aloud, talking to himself begrudgingly as he swallowed and forced himself up from the bed. He coughed into his palm a few times, sniffling as he threw on a shirt, adjusted his pants, and slid his feet into his boots near the edge of the bed. Higgs walked out of his sleeping quarters and into the small living space he carved out for himself at an abandoned facility. Ever since he lost to Sam, Higgs couldn’t go back to his home. Given the name he made for himself due to his terrorist affiliation with Homo Demens not to mention his conquest to have the Final Stranding arrive, he was very much a dead man walking according to the UCA. No one knew he was alive however, Fragile inadvertently made sure of that during their final encounter on the Beach. 

As Higgs rummaged around the small fridge for something to eat, he recalled that moment on the Beach. Fragile hovering over him like a proud hawk getting to swipe down at its prey. He hated having to look at her, reminded of everything she stood for and everything he had done. The soft caress of her fingers to his face haunted him, because in that brief moment of affection she offered, Higgs realized he fucked up royally. He was still as hopeless as ever about the state of the world, humanity alongside it, but that touch gave him some sort of false hope that regardless of what transpired, everything would be okay. Higgs loathed Fragile for it, especially given the fact he had been touched starved as well due to the abusive upbringing his daddy provided to him for years. He was thankful Fragile punched him soon after, snapping out of that hope if only brief. 

Fragile left Higgs on the Beach with the gun after shooting near his head. He for sure thought this was the end, and as much as he didn’t want to give the satisfaction of admitting it, Higgs knew he deserved it. Fragile deserved her revenge and he was in no position to stop her. He recalled opening his eyes, not seeing death had come for him but saw Fragile���s face once more, she growled towards Higgs, eyebrows furrowed into a tight glare as she shook her head like a parent disappointed in a child. 

“I’m not like you Higgs. I don’t take the easy way out. Regardless of the things you’ve done to me and the others you killed, you don’t deserve my wrath. You lost and if you want to escape the Beach, do it yourself. I will play no part in your life any longer, and you will no longer play a part in mine. If I were you, I’d hate living with myself.” That was all she said before teleporting herself away from the Beach, leaving Higgs alone with his thoughts and the realization he had no more power. Amelie no longer shared her strength with him. She had turned on Higgs, built him up as this great harbinger of destruction only to tear it down and leave him a weakling. 

Higgs didn’t hesitate taking the gun and aiming it at his heart, shooting it directly. The pain was brief, and a rush of blood clouded his eyes as Higgs accepted death and welcomed it with open arms, however he wasn’t greeted by a void or rest. Amelie was staring right at him, he was back on the shore of the Beach but floated over his body. Surprised and confused, Amelie reached out and touched his forehead without saying a word, only giving a smile as Higgs woke up back into the world of the living, wounds and all from his fight with Sam healed and with the gun Fragile left. He felt rain for the first time without the Timefall, opening his parched mouth to take in whatever his tongue could catch as he laughed, then fell to his knees crying. His fists hitting the ground over and over until he tumbled from exhaustion. 

Higgs sighed pushing back the memories, eating the last piece of bread he kept near the back of the fridge. Today he was going to have to make a supply run, knowing he was reaching his limit. Things would be so much easier if he could request a porter to come out and drop off food at his terminal, but given his predicament, Higgs couldn’t risk being found to be alive. With how strong the UCA had gotten, and with Homo Demens under new management and seeing him as a traitor to the cause now, he had to rely on himself. Joining a colony was not a choice either since he had notoriety. They’d turn him in to the Inquisitors, the UCA’s police and defense team,  just as soon as they’d see his face. Living the life of a loner wasn’t so bad however. Higgs enjoyed his own company, finding entertainment in the little things and finding peace in the fact he didn’t have to take orders from anyone. The only shitty thing was having to get everything himself. Higgs had to remind himself that if he could do it before when he was living with his daddy, he could do it again. He was always a survivor, regardless of whatever death wish he carried. 

It wasn’t always this easy, living life like this. At first when the BTs and Timefall disappeared, Higgs fell into a depression of sorts. He was ready to die. He had no hope, and Amelie and her being the Extinction Entity is what drove him and gave Higgs a new goal in life, now it had been snatched away. What was the point in living on when humanity was going to dry out and die off anyway within a couple thousand years? What was the point in him as a person living when the life expectancy was short in the UCA? What was the point of living in a world with no critters besides humans and their need to cling onto the past and false hope, the very mess that got them into this extinction predicament in the first place? Massive extinctions had happened five times within the earth's history. Higgs didn’t need to be a scientist to realize it was only natural, a cycle, and humanity was just denying the inevitable. He blamed it on the Western notions of their fear of death, thanatophobia. The original United States was filled with people that did whatever necessary to escape it, even going so far as to destroy their own environment to achieve some sort of immortality at the expense of others. He hated them for it. Maybe if the people back then had accepted the cycle, maybe he never would have ended up losing his parents. Maybe his uncle wouldn’t have become his daddy and raised him. Maybe he could have had a normal life. Hell, maybe he wouldn’t have been so suckered into Amelie’s desire to fulfill the Last Stranding. 

Higgs shook his head, downing an energy drink after finishing off the last crumbs of bread. Here he was being a hypocrite living in the past. He was always a forward thinker, but the past has come back to haunt him in the form of DOOM’s withdrawal. This was the sixth one Higgs had in the month, which was better than how it had been at the start. He recalled going almost two weeks without sleep because of how horrible the pain and dreams were, having to use tranqs among other things to knock himself out. It was getting better, slowly. 

“I better get this bullshit over with,” Higgs said to himself as he walked back to his sleeping quarters and prepared himself to go outside in order to gather supplies. Briefly, he glanced at his signature black and gold cloak. The one that emulated the crowns of the pharaohs of ancient Egypt. He missed wearing the thing, but settled for the black one that had blue coding on the shoulders. Higgs customized it further once upon a time, designing several eyes of Horus on the interior. Higgs wasn’t a religious man by any means, but in a way he was spiritual and the Egyptian myths and symbols gave some form of comfort. He didn’t feel right without at least having something akin to it on his person. 

He took some of his old porter gear with him that way stocking up would be easy if he hit a jackpot supply wise. Higgs had gotten good at stealing from MULE’s since they began congregating together in the West. He was able to get a hold of one of a kind items and food that lasted a long while, mostly genetically modified fruit and such that could withstand the new environment created by the BTs and Timefall. Higgs missed having pizza whenever he pleased, but it was a commodity he couldn’t afford to have without getting the assistance of a porter. 

Venturing outside and away from the terminal, Higgs didn’t take his time to admire the sunrise becoming more prominent in his neck of the woods. He quickly went to work, walking around for thirty minutes while glancing at plants and pieces of scraps left behind by MULE’s and porters alike. Occasionally he’d bend down, examining things and either tossing them into a pouch connected to his belt or would pelt them over his shoulder. Being a loner for the last three years, Higgs learned what scraps were useful for building things and which ones couldn’t be bothered with. He was amazed at how quickly he picked up on the skill, then again once upon a time, he had his own porter company; so it wasn’t too far fetched. 

About five hours into his run, and Higgs spotted a pack of MULE’s near the valley floor, heading towards the rough patch of terrain filled with rocks that marked the start of the East. He carefully watched them from the cliff above he was on, observing their movements and how far they were staying together. If he timed things right, he could easily sneak down and gather whatever goods they had and make a beeline for his shelter. The plan was nearly foolproof. Higgs had done this dozens of times now, and he could feel confidence radiating as he took a long strand of rope off his belt and began to find a spot where he could attach it and climb down. 

Upon reaching the valley floor, Higgs immediately had to duck into the long grass nearby. About a hundred feet away, he saw that the MULE’s were not alone, but had company. Homo Demens. He grit his teeth as his brows furrowed into a glare thinking about them. Once upon a time, they were his allies and subordinates, now they were an enemy just as much as Higgs was one to Sam Bridges. Higgs couldn’t believe it, seeing that the group had fallen so far as to work with MULE’s to get their dirty work taken care of. When he was in charge, they wouldn’t have done no such thing. He blamed Deeter for this, one of his comrades that rose up in rank when the group found Higgs and realized he was powerless. 

“Did you pack rats get the cargo Deeter asked for?” One of the Homo Demens members asked, sounding out of breath but very much irritable. 

“Yes, but it wasn’t easy. I hope your leader keeps his end of the bargain and keeps sending more porters our way. We’re running thin out here.” The Mule said begrudging. 

“Yeah, yeah, he’s working on it. The man is busy, but don’t worry. Unlike our predecessor, Deeter always keeps his promises, especially those that show their loyalty.” 

Higgs couldn’t see too well in the foggy atmosphere, but made out a rather large container that was being handed off to the group. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like one specifically made for transporting bombs and the like. Before he could observe the exchange further, he heard something coming from his right. Rocks began to tumble down the huge wall of the cliff he cascaded down earlier. He cautiously looked up, seeing that something was there, but hiding. Quickly, he turned his attention back towards the MULE’s and his ex comrades, seeing they too picked up on the sound.

“Probably an animal. We are getting more deer coming back into the area.” One of the MULE’S offered as an explanation, only to be interjected by the odd gesturing of another. 

“No, my scanner picked up on something. Someone is out there.” 

Higgs double checked himself, he for sure knew that he didn’t bring any gadgetry on his trip so as not to be seen or picked up on in case MULE’s or what have you had tech to detect intruders and porters alike. No, this had to be coming from whoever knocked down the rocks, and whoever sounded the alarm was gonna get them both killed. 

“Search the area, kill whoever or whatever it might be.” One of the Homo Demen’s commanded as both groups dispersed, partnering up and expanding outward with their weapons and such at the ready. Higgs wasted no time, he concentrated hard, closing his eyes as he managed to tap into whatever little power he had left from Amelie, and teleported himself back to the top of the cliff he was on. Panting, Higgs bent down to get the rope back and then began his search for whoever the intruder was. He had to get them to turn off their tech otherwise they’d be a sitting duck and screw over Higgs supply run. No doubt it had to be a porter, probably a newbie; at least that was Higgs assumption on the matter as he scaled and jumped from rock to rock, climbing on the occasion.

Eventually, he found his target. As soon as he saw the human shape, he jumped down and quickly his hand went for the top part of the cuff link he saw and he turned the machine off. The persons face peered up at him and he quickly shushed them before looking back over the boulder they were hiding behind. Higgs could see that the MULE’s were having a hard time picking up on the location now, and had stopped to mess with their equipment to see if things were faulty. His focus went back to the porter, and before getting ready to patronize the damn idiot, Higgs took a moment to observe who this person was.

Higgs hadn’t had any contact in a long time, and seeing the short haired woman before him made Higgs smile despite the fact she was giving him daggers. He could see the outline of Brisk HARPY on her shoulder. She couldn’t have been maybe a few years younger than himself. Her eyes were pretty, Higgs noted to himself before he snapped out of it, focusing once more on the fact they were sitting ducks. 

“Honey, keep that thing off or you’re gonna get us both killed.” He said in a gentle drawl as to not scare her off, then peered over the boulder again. The MULE’s were still trying to figure out what was going on, and Higgs plus the delivery girl needed to get a move on while they were still distracted.

“If you want to live to see another day, you’re gonna have to follow me darlin’.” Higgs said in a whisper as he gestured for her to go, but the gal shook her head causing Higgs to raise an eyebrow at her suspiciously. 

“I can’t move quick enough. My foot--the shoe broke, rock went inside.” She said worriedly as Higgs looked down while the gal lifted her leg up and showed him the deep gash that was at the bottom of her left foot. It was bleeding through the bandages she had patched on, and he could see a trail of blood left behind. No doubt if the MULE’s didn’t pick up on that soon, his old gang would. Higgs made a face, wincing a little as he tisked at her while shaking his head. 

“Yeah, that doesn’t look good at all honey.” 

“I don’t need you to tell me that!” Her voice rose, and Higgs quickly placed the palm of his hand over her mouth and shushed her. 

“Keep your voice down. They’ll kill you if they find you. I heard them. They aren’t after whatever cargo you might have, they want you dead. If we work together, we can get out of here in one piece and you can go back to your route.” Higgs offered as he observed the gal once more while taking his hand away from her mouth. He smirked a little, seeing that she had a lot of spunk for a porter, something that reminded Higgs of himself once upon a time when he was doing deliveries. 

“How do I know you’re not one of them?” She asked cautiously as Higgs snorted and chuckled. Go figure she would be hesitant. It was only natural for a porter in her position to be.  Higgs shook his head.

“Trust me hon, if I were with them you’d already be dead. Look, we’re wasting too much time. We got a five minute window to get the hell out of dodge before their radar picks up on your cufflink, you’re wounded so you don’t have much choice but to come with me.” 

“You could just leave me and save yourself. You seem capable, so why the hell do you want to help?” 

Higgs’s head tilted playfully as he rested a hand on her shoulder, giving a pat before she shrugged him off. 

“You’re jeopardizing my supply run being here. The sooner I get you out, the sooner I can get what I need and go home.” Higgs said. 

“Could just kill me and get it over with. Most of you loners do that.” The porter retorted. 

“Now hon, where would the fun be in that? Besides if I left your corpse stranded on this here cliffside, they’d know I’m here too. That’s not very smart if you ask me.” Higgs countered as the porter gal peered over the boulder quickly before looking back at him, giving a nod. 

“Fine. What do you purpose I do?” She asked, her tone sounding defeated as Higgs smiled briefly before his gaze turned serious, he began to kneel down further to the point where he was below eye level. 

“Get on my back, don’t worry. I can carry you.” Higgs said softly as he kept his eyes on her, his gaze neutral as he could see she was calculating her options before limping towards him, slinging her body onto him. Higgs grunted, shifting her around a bit before he slowly rose to his feet. Luckily for them, the fog was still obscuring the area so the Homo Demens and MULE’s couldn’t see them for now. Once settled, Higgs had her swing her arms over his shoulders and around his neck so she could hang on while his hands went down to her legs around his waist and gripped them to help keep her steady against his body.

“What’s your name?” Higgs asked quietly. 

“Gene.” The gal said tiredly as he nodded. 

“Well Gene, this is gonna be rough so bare with me’.” 

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Worst Fear Come Alive

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 1,191

Warnings: fear of death and dying, angst, major character death

Summary: Everyone knows the life you leads will eventually lead to death, but you don’t know how close that can be.

Squared Filled: Thanatophobia // Case Fic

Author’s Note: This is for @spndarkbingo and @spndeanbingo respectively and this is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

“I really don’t think we should separate. This thing thrives when people are alone,” you expressed your concerns with the eldest Winchester. Sam looked around the dark woods in thought, and as much as he hated it, Dean was right. These woods are way too big to stay together.

“Y/N, I understand your concern, but our only chance at stopping this thing is if we trap it out here. We can only do this if we split up. Don’t worry, nothing will happen to any of us,” he said as he kissed your head.

“Fine, but please be careful. If you feel like you’re not going to win, get out of there. I don’t need any of you dying on me,” you chuckled humorlessly.

“Same goes for you. Okay, let’s go,” Dean said before you three took off in different directions. The only reason why you were so anal about this case is that you had a huge fear of dying. Thanatophobia is what it’s officially called. The thought of you or someone else dying was enough to bring an anxiety attack. Every living thing dies, and you know this, but it’s not the fear of dying that got to you, it was the process of dying. There were so many ways to die, so many ways to inflict pain, and that is what you were most afraid of.

Passing in your sleep is something you hoped you’d do when your time comes. No pain, no thought, just nothing but darkness. Sam and Dean seem to think differently because they thought the job was going to kill all of you eventually. Whether that be by a demon, vampire, angel, God, Lucifer, or whatever is out there. Going out swinging is something Dean swore by which got you nervous whenever you went on a case.

Trudging through the woods, you kept your eyes and ears peeled for anything that might seem out of the ordinary. Your machete was out in front of you at all times, ready to go swinging if something came at you. This particular monster was good at blending in with its surroundings which left you and the brothers at a huge disadvantage. It was almost pitch black, the woods were eerily quiet, and the monster was very good at moving around stealthily. If anyone was going to hunt and kill it, then it would be the three of you.

Every step you took was like a loud bang since you seem to be stepping on every single branch and twig you could find. Come on, Y/N, stop making so much noise. It’s going to be the reason you’re fucking murdered in the middle of nowhere. Taking a deep breath, you silently let it out before continuing on your way. It was taking everything in you to try and not think about Sam and Dean and how they are all alone out there with only a machete as protection. Granted, you had the same thing, but your worry was more for them instead of you. In addition to your number one fear, the thought of someone close to you dying was worse than dying yourself. The thought of having to live your life without that person is what kept you up at night. There had been countless times where Dean had to sleep with you in your bed because you were too anxious to go to sleep.

He was the biggest rock in your life, and you didn't know what you would do without him. Only recently have the two of you started dating, but you’ve been friends longer than that and known each other for even longer. He was someone you could count on for anything and everything. He always had an answer even when he never spoke. He understood you better than most people, and he provided a great ear for listening when you just needed to talk.

He was the best boyfriend you could ever have, and you thank God every day that he is in your life. Sam was an amazing best friend and such a good brother to Dean, you loved their bond. The three of you worked so well together because you’ve known each other for such a long time. It’s amazing how comfortable you three were around each other, but that's just how you three were. You all had each other’s backs and trusted one another with your lives.

Now you can see why you worry so much for them over yourself. After an hour of looking through the forest, you couldn’t seem to locate the monster at all. Maybe it left, maybe Sam and Dean killed it, or maybe it was never here in the first place. Taking out your phone, relief crashed over you at the sight of reception. Dialing Sam’s number, you waited until he picked up. One the third ring, he did.

“Hey, did you find it?”

“No. Did you?”

“No. Call Dean to see how he did. I’m heading back to the car.”

“Okay, see you there,” you said as you hung up. Dialing your boyfriend’s number, you started to head back to the car when you heard his infamous ringtone. Looking around for the tall man, you headed in the direction of the noise.

“Dean?” you called out as you pulled the phone away from your ear while still letting it ring. You received no answer which caused worry to spike in your brain. Why wasn’t he answering if his phone was so close? Was he even near it? Did he drop it? Did something happen to him? Approaching a clearing, you saw Dean’s jacket on the dirty ground, and upon closer examination, you saw that Dean was lying on the ground underneath it.

“Dean!” you yelled as you sprinted to him, dropping to your knees as you turned him over. There was so much blood on the ground, you were shocked at the amount. Did one person really carry this much blood? However, at the sight of all the blood, panic began creeping in the back of your mind.

“Dean wake up! SAM!!! Dean, please wake up,” you panicked as you shook his shoulders. His eyes were closed and his mouth was partly open, but he made no move to signal that he was alive. As soon as you felt the first tear hit your cheek, your lungs started caving in on themselves. With a shaky hand, you reached over to Dean’s eyes and lifted one eyelid, and the look in his eyes told you that his body was exactly that--a body with no soul in it.

“SAM!!!” you screamed as tears cascaded down your face. Your breathing picked up when you realized Dean wouldn’t be in your life anymore. Your anxiety was fueled by your worst fear that just so happened to come true. His blood was all over your body as you held him close as if he would open his eyes and say this was all a sick joke.

Your worst fear has come true, and it was nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. How will you ever survive now?

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[exit-path]

DO NOT READ THIS POST.

Below is a long rant I’ve had about life and death. I’ve wanted it on the Internet. So that, ya know people can read it. But I also don’t want people to read it. Potential mental scarring, and all that.

So if you wanna get the rest of your Daily Tumblr Experience (tm), keep scrolling. But if you want to have a SUPER out-of-body experience, “Keep reading.”

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

So wait, this is it?

After you learn all the languages you know now, after you’re taught everything in school you remember, after you read all the books and hear all the stories...

This is it?

That’s everything? Your toolbox to brave the world. That’s all you get?

You’re gonna have all this until the day you die. You know that, right? This is pretty much all you’re ever gonna get, forever.

You know you only have one life. After this, you can’t try again. You get no second chances.

But I want more! Why can’t get more? Why does learning new things only get harder with age?

You’re never gonna truly experience anything besides what you’re currently experiencing. Sure, you can imagine, and you can daydream and come up with full-on stories in your mind, but truth is, you’re never actually gonna leave your current story. It’s all been one straight line.

We are trapped in the mortal realm. If you were born a man, and you wanted to be a woman, then even through all the wishes in the world, you could never truly become a woman. Baseless wishes do nothing, after all. But you can get close. If you see a man trying as hard as they can to be a woman, because they really wanted to, and they did a really good job, then please cheer them on. They are doing as close an act to defying the impossible.

So wishes don’t work. You will never experience anything outside of the life you’re currently living. So make the most of it. And embrace new actions taken. Because they do what wishes can’t: they work.

This all still feels so empty. I’m so lost. It feels so bleak, and it’s cold and dark down here. I’m currently getting therapy, but I want happiness. Happiness that lasts. Like, an hour.

Can anything solve this? Like, death anxiety. Can anything fix death anxiety? Because it’s a really shitty thing to be afraid of. It’s a phobia that, by definition, is chronic. If you’re afraid of death, and you’re eventually gonna die, then you’ll be panicking your whole life.

That seems like a really shitty way to live life. I don’t want to live like that! Please! I want to be liberated from my chronic anxiety! I don’t want to die!

How did you discover this? Do you know me? Did you find this? Did I show you this? Or did you not discover this? Will this be forgotten about, buried under all the other posts on this platform? Every time I make a new post, am I burying this one a foot deeper? Will no mortal eyes ever gaze upon this post ever again?

And this all came with no warning! Back on my main blog, I’ve posted nothing about my recent thanatophobia! Okay, well maybe I posted something about anxiety and stuff like that, but nothing like this. I’m scared!

I really hope I don’t delete this. There’s a really good chance I won’t. I want this to be out in the world. If only for a moment, I want this post to breathe.

When Tumblr shuts down, even if it’s after my lifetime, this post will go with it. And when the universe dies in a trillion years, everything will go with it. Why did some astronomist figure that out? How much alcohol do they drink?

It is Friday, June 12th, 2020. I dunno why I date things. I hope some day in the future, I can come back to old stuff and know exactly when I brought it into existence. Or maybe dating things is for satisfaction in the moment. Maybe I date things to look at it over time while I can still constantly see it: two days, three days, two weeks, three months, a year. A year? Wow, that’s a long time! And what about decades-old things? Centuries-old? Nah, I won’t think about that. That’s outside of a human lifetime.

I don’t get why people have existential crises. Like, you’re worrying about how people will remember you after you’re gone? What’s the point in that? Do you have so much sympathy that you care about it miles over your own mortality? Also, you’d end up in a similar situation to thanatophobia! You’d end up constantly worry, with every waking moment, whether your actions are making an impact on the world. Like, what’s the point in that? Just live life!

Will I ever share this? I hope I do. In fact, I hope I share it to my main blog too. I hope I share it with one of those “Keep Reading” tags that I see elsewhere on Tumblr, when the person has a bunch to things or extra words that they wanna keep behind a wall of sorts so no one’s constantly terrorized by a wall of text. I hope I figure out how to do that in time.

Also, am I getting deja vu of this very moment? Like, I’m not even done writing all this! How am I remembering something that hasn’t even finished yet? Is my memory really that bad?

I’m worried my memory will be the bane of me. I’m worried that in the end, I’ll remember very little, because I know so much more, and I’ll regret remembering so little. That would be a horrible way to die. Regret? I don’t want to feel regret on my deathbed!

I’ve thought in the past that when I grow up, and I become rich enough to own things, then I should hire a transcriber to follow me around everywhere I go and transcribe everything I say. That way, every thing I say can be written down. All my information will be on paper. Nothing will be as short-lived as the wind that takes my words away. That way, there might be a chance that even some of the more elusive words I say, perhaps the most beautiful quotes I utter that are completely unfathomable today, can survive longer than me. So nothing is lost to time.

When I was five, I had a dream. Maybe it was a nightmare. Maybe I made a post about this already. If so, then that’s scary, because I don’t remember that. I don’t like not remembering things. But anyways, I had a dream. I was standing on top of a light pole. You know those white lamp poles in New York City? The ones that curve like a hook onto the road? Yeah, I was standing on top of one of those. Somehow. I dunno how it could have supported my weight. And there were three pigeons. Three New York pigeons. Pretty slim, not like the big meaty ones you find sometimes. And the pigeons on the light pole next to me. They were closer to the pole, and I was closer to the light. I know they were exactly three pigeons. Not so sure about their placement, actually. In fact, I’m not so sure about my age at the time. Anyways, the pigeons flew away. And I jumped. I jumped from the top of the light pole. And I hit the asphalt. And I woke up, probably in a cold sweat. My heart was beating really fast. I woke up immediate before I hit the asphalt. I had felt the wind whizzing by my face. So that was the whole dream. I was on a light pole, there were three pigeons, they flew away, I jumped off the light pole, died on impact with the road, and woke up immediately before the dying part.

I feel like it’s almost like a prophecy, that eventually, that’s how I’m gonna die. That’s the clip of how I died. That I would commit suicide from the top of a light pole. And I don’t want to die that way! I don’t want to commit suicide! Life is precious! I want to die of old age, not of my own doing, fulfilling some “prophecy” that I was never told in words! That would really suck. Then again, it’s probably never going to happen. With as outlandish a story as that, I’m probably never gonna die that way. That lifts my spirits.

I’m so glad I could eventually get all these things down somewhere. Especially the “dream at five years old” part. I’m sixteen years old. I had constantly worried about how I would eventually get these thoughts down on paper somewhere. Yeah, it had always been in the back of my head. All. This. Time. It sucks, but I think I finally got it done, I think.

I didn’t want to keep this to myself, or put it in a diary entry or anything like that, because I don’t believe in privacy. Yeah sure, there are some things you keep to yourself, touchy subjects like masturbation, and if you’re lucky, you can go your whole life without a secret being told, and it dies with you on your deathbed. But I personally believe those should only be the rare cases. At least, they should. Because I’ve been growing up in a world full of information. All of human knowledge is at my fingertips, and it’s called “Wikipedia”. But still, it’s had I’d say a pretty big impact on how I view information. Information should just be out there in the world, ready for anyone to read and critique. So I’d never own a diary. To have that much information and to know no one else is looking at it would be painful. And I know that sounds counterintuitive, like how can you be scared when people are being not nosy, but that’s just my worldview. Yours can be different.

Well that’s our show for tonight, folks! Stay safe out there. And remember, you only live once.

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

I have no idea what I'm doing and I must scream about my friend's OTP

*bangs pots together* I HEARD THIS FANDOM NEEDED MORE SICKFIC SO I CAME HERE TO PROVIDE With angst too! It's simple, even simplistic to a fault in fact, but I'm kind of happy with it? The beginning especially, man I love writing the literal equivalent of suffering. The ending may be a letdown, but I hope it's decent anyway.

also yeah can we all stan my good pal @chess-of-flowering-kingdom's writing in the chat because she's much better than me at this FE3H thing, she’s like an icon or something in this fandom

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Thanatophobia

Summary: [thanatophobia: noun. Literally, “fear of death”; a feeling of dread, anxiety or sollicitude when thinking of or faced by death or the process of dying. Derivated fromthe Ancient Greek "θάνατος", death, and "φόβος", fear or anxiety.] Ingrid almost loses someone again. 

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses (post-timeskip) Ships: Ingrid/Sylvain (pre-relationship)

Wordcount: 2.8K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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Her vision was blurry from the water flooding in her eyes, her hearing by the sobs she was trying to keep inside, her thoughts from the swirling concerns and confusion hitting it at once. Her head ached, so did her heart, and her stomach was hardly able to keep up with the nauseating worry she was finding herself to be the victim of.

Yet, and it only hurt further to admit it, even the best training in the world couldn’t have prevented this, so all she could do was not let herself get eaten away by her sorrow, as looking like a mourning widow would do nothing to improve the absolutely abhorrent situation that was unfolding right before her helpless eyes.

 It wasn’t like it was her fault, she knew that. She couldn’t have prevented it even if she had tried her hardest: in a way, this was bound to happen, but that train of thought only made it worse. What, was she supposed to just stay here and do nothing because this was always going to end in some tragedy one way or the other? Was she supposed to believe there was fate above all of their heads menacingly staring at them and waiting for the first opportunity to cause them misery to happen?

As it stood, Ingrid hated being unable to do anything, always wanted to do something and be of some use whenever things turned sour; yet reality was forcing itself on her, itself and its terrible sides and toll. It was telling her that no matter what she did, no matter what she was trying to do, no matter where she went, no matter how or why, it was a superior face on her soul bound to its realm by her flesh and blood.

If reality wanted to pain her again and make someone die on her for a second time, it could, and it wanted very desperately to show her this without any possible contestation on her part.

 Perhaps it hurt her even more to know this would eventually happen, no matter what she said or did. Ingrid had always watched over Sylvain ever since they had known each other, had gotten to know every side of his personality to the point she could predict every single thing he was about to go through with. He was a free spirit, someone who took his life lightly, a true skirt-chaser, someone who listened to her and stared into her eyes without ever considering if her words could have an impact on his life.

Ingrid had always found him to take his existence too much on the light side of things, and Glenn’s demise had only enforced his feeling, but she could only confirm that to a whole new extent she had never wished to behold today.

 They were fighting alongside on the battlefield, the two of them, against the enemy forces. She was the prideful knight, he was the free-thinking monk, and they worked better than she’d have expected coming him and his seemingly lack of seriousness about anything that involved life-or-death stakes. Both on the battlefield, sharing a portion of land as decided by their strategist, weapons out and senses sharp, focus undefeatable as she defeated her foes one by one on her fierce mount.

At least, it was in her case, because Ingrid couldn’t stop spotting in the corner of her how sloppy her battle partner was. Usually, and that was one of the qualities she could give him, he was more than competent when fighting, He’d usually slipped in a couple teases and flirtatious lines of banter between two battles, yet all she heard are pants and wheezes coming from his side, her moves slow and unprecise, the absolute opposite of what a warrior was supposed to be standing for in her eyes.

 But the battle was raging on, so she ignored it at first and just made it out to be a minor thing. Must have been because he had been chasing skirts all night again, without thinking of tomorrow’s battle (even if that seemed too easy of an explanation). It was a day like any other, even if the taste of blood wasn’t as strong as it’d have usually been. Nothing wrong to report on, truly, or so she thought (or tried convincing herself of? It wasn’t clear, not even in the heat of the moment where lucidity of the mind was key). And, in her point of view, it all looked fine and usual until she noticed she was alone killing off the last of the enemy’s forces.

As it stood, meddling with the dried leaves of the early autumn metamorphosis, crimson poking out from the light browns and oranges, was the unconscious body of a childhood friend.

 The assault had stopped for them, in the far-end part of the battlefield; yet the feeling of dread wetting her back in cold sweats didn’t give in, nourishing itself from the misery plaguing her mind. Ingrid got off her mount, her stallion’s reins firmly enclosed between her fingers, approaching the suddenly shapeless form of who could have only been Sylvain if she squinted enough with heavy steps and a heavier breath.

She slowly crouched, feet trying to avoid stepping on the leftovers of the battle, until her available hand could touch him, the other gripping harder on the reins as soon she realized what was wrong. A clump formed in her throat, her stomach twirled, she felt like she was about to get sick from the sudden rush of worry nausea taking a hold of her system like a demon possessing her body. Without uttering a word, she put him on his back, finally able to see his dirtied face and harsh breathing, skin paler than the corpses around them, red splattered across his cheeks like blood on a soldier’s attire.

 Ingrid didn’t waste words trying to wake him up, but her hands burned when she let go of the rein to put him on her mount and escort him back to safety, back to their base while she walked, in silent, with a troubling vision and sobs threatening to exit her chest if she wasn’t careful to them even for a moment. Her feet crushing the dirt and leaves, three breathes of different intensities and faraway cries were the only things she accepted hearing for the time being, careful that none of these breathings stopped all of a sudden and forever.

She was sniffling worry in. This was happening, under her eyes, and she couldn’t do anything about it. She was no healer, no priestess of any kind. She didn’t know how to beg a deity for someone’s wellbeing, all she knew was fighting and court codes, in the end. Despite the toll of the battle on the enemy’s forces and her army’s victory, her heart couldn’t scream any cry of war, couldn’t sing a hymn, because it was busy crying while her mind was busy not to let herself do the same.

 And, in this time of great mental distress, sorrowful Ingrid realized something: for the first time in her life, no matter what had happened before since they had been children, no matter what she could say or even think of uttering, she couldn’t do anything for Sylvain.

 The rest of things was a blur from then on. She brought her horse back to the base, couldn’t explain what had happened aside from the idea that he had collapsed while she was looking elsewhere to fend against the enemy, and watched events unfold while her hands went unoccupied and her legs restless. Her entire body turned into lead jelly, stiff like metal yet tender from her weaknesses striking at once. Healers tried their best, but only words of apology came out from them: they had spells for injuries, not illnesses, and they were as helpless as she was.

When she was invited to see him after a more formal exam, shortly before the battle ended with her army’s flawless and stainless victory, Ingrid turned down the offer. She wasn’t ready to face the situation, not at first at last, and went for a walk outside instead to calm down the nausea and stop her thoughts from becoming a tornado inside her skull.

 The air had gone cold since the battle had ended, the warmth of her companions and blood pouring on the floor having given stead to night’s silence and comfortable judgement. Nobody could see her now, all inside either celebrating or getting concerned, maybe both; but even her hunger had gone missing, buried under the thick layers of concern she kept putting on because of her own uselessness.

Her hands rubbed against her arms, her breath emitted clear smoke against the black backdrop of the night embracing her, her feverish skin finally calming down to a point where she felt like she could face her friend again, even if this entire fiasco made her doubt her own feelings’ nature. Perhaps staying for too long in the dark quietness of the deserted paths only accelerated her uncertainties, so she went back inside, the warmth of a group reaching back to her right as her skin was shivering.

 Her heart was wavering with the intensity of a typhoon, even as her footsteps echoed in the corridors as she made her way to the infirmary. She knocked once and entered without waiting for a reply, not expecting any considering it was already fairly late in the evening. The silence of the room reminded her of the outsides, which eased her heart into entering the room, even if immediately the sight of Sylvain in this bed, left to devilish devices, stung her deeper than she’d have thought.

Her hands were fiddling together by themselves as she sat on the chair that was already there, eyes unable to face it. She wanted to weep at last, let her sorrow run free; but that’d have been disgracing Sylvain, disgracing all the cautious words she had ever told him and all the messages she had tried to drill through his skull as much as possible so he wouldn’t ridicule himself again, so she wouldn’t suffer second-hand embarrassment from him.

 Her heart was pounding. In truth, she wasn’t confused about her feelings, more than she wanted to deny them: really, falling for her childhood friend wasn’t something she wanted. It was even worse if she considered how he was such a skirt-chaser, flirting with everything that moved or had a pulse, from her grandmother to their female colleagues: it was going to end badly for her if she truly stopped lying to herself about it, if something made her stop rejecting what she shouldn’t have felt in the first place.

The problem was that this something had already come around. No matter how much she told herself this, seeing Sylvain in this bed was like watching herself lose Glenn all over again: it started small, it always ended terribly, this much she had been taught and she had learnt over the years, throughout her experiences and connections with people. She was afraid of losing someone else, so she denied their value to her and tried keeping her tears inside, even if she knew it was all a lie, even if she was fully aware it had been nothing but a charade of refusal and unhealthy denial.

 Yet, even with all of her efforts, Ingrid was crying, tears rolling down her face and sorrow finally making its way out of her airways, pouring in thoughts and tears. How ungraceful, how weak coming from the woman who had wanted to become Dimitri’s most fellow knight, the one who grief and death shouldn’t have scared like a little girl whom the world had deemed to forever be lost in the eternal penumbra whose last beacon of light had been engulfed by the shadows.

At least, she was alone, unseen from the world, with the only witness being an unconscious man. It was the only consolation she had, the one thing fate had decided to keep her away from being shame and dishonour, but it was minor compared to the pain raging in her chest.

 Until she felt a trembling finger stroking her cheek, stealing a tear away.

 With her vision now restored, Ingrid saw the impossible: Sylvain, awake, the faintest smile he had given her on his face, whose finger was indeed against her cheek despite the weakness she could tell came from it. For a moment, a short moment, time stopped, until he broke down coughing and her heart started stinging again.

“’nice to see you, Ing,” he slurred as he looked at her, breathing still as heavy as it used to, glass-eyed and disgraceful all around. Yet, even in this moment of vulnerability on his part…

“…nice to see you too, Sylvain,” she tried to ignore that fact and hide her relief to see him conscious enough.

 It meant that, in another sense, she could finally do the one thing she should have done all along.

“Never, ever do that again. I don’t want to escort you out of the battlefield after harvesting your body like rotting wealth.”

“That’s not a… nice thing to say…”

“Do you think worrying me was a nice thing to do?”

If she couldn’t have hidden the tears forever, she surely couldn’t have pretended like she wasn’t blushing from embarrassment after dropping such a line. In fact, like a foolush beginner, she had stolen her own speech away from herself. Talk about a bad move on her part.

 “I… I made you worry…?” His voice was unnaturally groggy and low, as if gravel had infected his airways. It was like speaking to someone else altogether if she didn’t focus on his face.

“…of course you did. We’re friends.”

“Ah…” His expression was genuine, this much she could tell, but his sudden solemnity weirded out in some measure. “Sorry… I thought it’d do the opposite, but…” He coughed, yet smiled, and it confused her even further. “’was wrong.”

“You sure were…”

 They fell into some kind of constantly broken silence, wordless moments interrupted by coughing fits she had never wanted to hear and desired to see gone for the rest of their existences. Her heart continued aching against her bones, fatigue never truly coming to her senses, until Sylvain put her hand away from her face and she missed his undesired hotness.

“Y’know, I’ve always l’ved you, Ing…” He slurred, his face’s flushing making her unable to tell if it was genuine, just a delirium kind of side effect, or a plain joke. Considering the context, she scratched the last theory out on her quick mental list.

Not like she’d have possibly had the wittiness to reply to that in her usual fashion, not when she had feared for his life merely an hour ago all evening.

  “I…”

He’d forget that by the time morning rolled around, right? Someone like him wouldn’t have normally laid down his feelings like that. She could, maybe just this once, maybe because he was alive and she was more than happy about this fact, allow herself a confession of her own.

“It may have been reciprocal for a longer time that I thought.”

 Her response must have rendered him speechless, because all she saw him do was blush even further and almost faint on her.

“Hey, are you alright?!” She yelled without really realizing about it. “You should rest, that’s the only way you’ll win against this thing.”

She still didn’t know what the nature of the illness was exactly, but for now, she’d do without that piece of information. It wasn’t like she had dared asking or even thinking about it, it could have sent her into another wave of choked sobs if she had.

“I… s’pose you’re right… See ya later, Ing…”

“See you. Take care.”

 She waited for him to completely fall asleep before leaving the room, her heart still heavy from the concern, exhaustion of the day and sudden revelations that had showered on her out of the blue. It really hadn’t been the right moment to have those, this much was for sure.

Yet, tomorrow seemed a bit more promising now. She still felt helpless, useless on the surface, and her chest ached from seeing such a dear friend (this, she couldn’t deny anymore) in such a pitiful condition. Nonetheless, she left his room before she could give him the one thing he didn’t quite want in her opinion, her pity, and thought sleep would clear everyone’s minds out of whatever had bothered them during the day and made them endlessly stir.

Yeah, she just needed a good night of sleep and for him to be alright. It was a lot to ask for, but she’d be caught red-handed trying to get that to happen nonetheless.

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By the time day rolled around, even if the fever was still clogging his brain, Sylvain hadn’t forgotten about their conversation.

Ingrid didn’t quite know what to make out of that realization.

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jokes on everyone (that includes me, a clown) I know very little about the game, it was just to make my good friend Azure smile and write even more angst

As such, I want to formally apologize if anyone is OOC beyond recognition.