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you won't like it, sure, but that hasn't really proven to matter. maybe you'll mean something to someone this way: abandoning your promises and all meager parts of yourself you liked, the ones that kept you unimportant.
layers upon layers of fabrication of a plan that won't really lead anywhere at all
when derw comes first time – its their second time meeting, third if u count the time derw eavesdropped on his conversation – septic is a bit more than a ghost, too pale and weak, moves stiffly and awkwardly, with swollen reddish eyes, clearly having just stopped crying. he pays almost no attention to the fact his base was found and doesn't consider derw to be a threat at all – instead, he gives them a tour, adding a horse dose of self-deprecation in every other sentence.
derw plays almost-a-friendly-neighbour, if your friendly neighbor stalks you and then openly admits it, and septic is entertaining to them, in a way. he destroys half of his house to change it for the ever-so-hot netherrack, he changes motivating signs for the barely-making-it ones, he shows his bow – and laughs at the idea of his life having a value.
both of your teammates gave up so much for your safety, derw says with an ironic smile, so nobody in this world can even touch you anymore – only because rin is banned right now, they dont specify, most of the revive items prepared in their echest. you cant let yourself die anymore, you know it, right? they decide to visit him some next time, just cuz of idle curiosity.
the next day, septic blows himself up on the end crystal.
***
next time, septic is angry. not at them, of course.
his home, instead of the netherrack – steadier, but still bland tuff bricks, but almost-just-a-relationship-metaphor bridge – still broken. in grey ink, on the dark oak sign, too loudly for such an empty house: DONT DIE.
they watch a sunrise. "i dont grieve", he says, "why would i be?". his voice is still too hoarse to sound unperturbed. his card is too weak to play it against derw. "hal left days ago. its a new day everyday". he sounds like anyone but a person who moved on. in everything else, hes still too honest for a person seeing derw third time ever.
they stay distant. existence creates a pattern. septic bakes them a pie – its so sweet it cramps their teeth. septic turns his head away – hair illuminated by the halo of the rising sun – and the sunset shield shines in his hand.
"why you keep coming?", he asks. "want to know who you will be next time", derw answers honestly, as everything they ever say.
***
– whats your soul for u?
– this base, – septic stretches out his arms towards his lands.
– you need to move on, – they notice. from hal, from a dried-up bush in place of a flower, from this place, so familiar, but still suffocating him with the memories.
– im scared you wont find me if i leave, – septic admits.
– i will find anyone, sooner or later, – derw plainly states.
septic smiles.
his death – is not derws doing, but his own fault. he splats right in front of their eyes, and they return him everything but a heart and smile with a hollow smile, and their eyes stay cold. you forgot, they remind, that im not your friend. not yet, still. he feels only icy helplessness and shame.
– my armor means nothing to me, – he says, voice trembling.
– well, – derw bows his head, – we dont want rin to oneshot you, right? you have to run and hide as any scared animal will.
– u and rin have one thing in common now, – he says dryly, – my heart i couldn't get back.
derw throws a disc on the floor in front of him and he clenches his fists so hard they turn white. its creator.
– one more song you cant hear for your empty heart, – derw says with a smile.
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He had honestly known it was a bad idea from the start, trying to ask about it to his two teammates and possibly getting them involved when he knew perfectly well that it was likely they had no clue about it.
He already knew what was quickly approaching, nothing more than a routine at this point as much as he had initially tried to put a stop to it, before realizing it was meaningless at some point. When had that happened?
He had honestly tried to blame this on someone else, saying that he had no clue how it started nor why it was happening, "Trying to study it" even as nothing more than another excuse to not confront [that which stared back in the mirror].
As much as he tried to convince them alongside himself that it was getting better, there was never enough time between it and there was nothing much that could be done as the stone roof was replaced by its cold embrace in an instant. It had become familiar at some point.
The blinding light pointed at his eyes was the only mercy he had been granted, as the blood soaked shirt started to cling to his skin. He knew better than to glance down and look; he'd learnt that fairly quickly after the third time this had happened. Or had it been the tenth?
He remembers having tried to keep himself busy to avoid this happening, to avoid another visit but each time he had been dragged back to this place. Careful of not looking down, he tried his best to feel around for it, hoping this time it was nearby and he wouldn't need to get up.
Looking back, he wonders if maybe something could have changed if he hadn't been there that day, if maybe he had done something different. He could see his vision getting blurrier as his hand grasped around nothing, it was probably taken after the last time.
No matter how many times he'd gone through this, it didn't make any easier. Avoiding looking at it least lessened the sensation of air hitting his insides, acknowledging made it worse.
Hand trembling, he pushed himself up into a sitting position to try getting a better look around, didn't want to risk staying more than necessary. Harder to do without it falling out.
As bright as the light previously shining into his eyes had been, it didn't do a good job at illuminating the room. Wouldn't make much of a difference either way, as he already knew what to do as soon as his eyes had landed on the full body mirror nearby.
Stumbling his way towards the mirror, he didn't even give a glance at the figure resembling him staring down mockingly, before punching the glass. His vision was getting darker, ears ringing but he could faintly make out a commotion outside. Time was running out.
He had done this before, but it didn't make it less terrifying as he sifted through the glass shards for the sharpest one, ignoring the approaching footsteps. One shaking movement was all it took.
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wow guys, i cant believe s7 is ending - it's literally been such a wild ride and I'm so happy I was there for all of it <3 I'll see you all in the next one!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
With never before seen Art (Nothing graphic.)
As Above , So Below.
cw for suicide
He had a lot of time to comprehend what was going on by the time he'd respawned, but it didn't mean 7 was necessarily okay about it.
In fact, when his feet shakily touched the padded straw that was the bottom of the cage, vision blurry and undefined, he could still clearly see blood fall onto the floor. Yeah okay. She was less than okay.
She didn't reach for her communicator. It was buzzing with an alarmed frequency but she didn't care to soothe the rest of the server. Looking up was haunting, a too big space for too small a person, too weak a player. An unreachable exit, a stark reminder of own trapped existence.
He clung to the bars, making his way around carefully. Everything felt too vast now, especially for one player. The beautiful simulated outside landscape just a boring backdrop. What was built to be a playground, just useless slop in the face of eternal loneliness. She reached the door of the cage.
Thankfully, the supports were still there. He'd finished the ceiling that same day, suffered a fatal fall from it all, it was supposed to only be up from here. He clutched the bars tighter, the ground spinning under him, blood still spilling from the open wounds.
He was sure it wasn't supposed to be like this. He'd died before, he'd been killed before, murdered, maimed, but it had never been this violent or brutal an awakening.
Though maybe it was good she was back in the cage, there were no more reasons for her to leave anyways, the server had proved itself hostile and unwelcoming. They were supposed to keep them safe in therapy after all and she ended up at the other end of the blade that was meant to protect them. It was a little too on the nose.
She didn't have anyone left.
Everyone had left.
There wasn't a single person who he mattered to anymore.
He was no longer a teammate. The one thing he considered himself, throughout everything.
She'd given so, so much of herself to the team that now it was gone there was nothing there anymore. No reason for anything, this base she lovingly built with her own hands now her own prison and her soon to be grave.
She didn't expect to be missed much.
The comms still buzzed regardless, maybe some apologies, maybe asking 7 to come back, but all that was said was said, and all that was done was done.
Despite the love she'd put out into the world it turns out she was unworthy of being loved in turn. She'd done everything she possibly could, did everything asked of her and even more, and she was left with nothing. Foolishly, she'd made herself vulnerable, stripped herself of her potions for some symbolic metaphor, trusted her inventory with her most precious items, and so here she was, standing at the edge of the cage, clutching the bars, watching how the grass below spun under blurry eyes.
Normally 10 was here, around him, always chirping, to soothe him but it had died that day. Emotionally he'd died alongside it. Just held himself together long enough to go to therapy to heal some long broken part of himself, only to leave worse than ever.
Without the unconditional love from a pet he was virtually unlovable anymore. She had had friends- no longer willing to think of herself in the present, eyes screwed closed, tears falling regardless. She had had friends, but those were fleeting and they didn't know her as well as the devil did. And the devil knew she was unlikable and impossible to love.
It was a long way down, all dug out by hand, but she didn't fear much. There wasn't more she could lose.
This time when she hit the ground she did not respawn.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
With never before seen Art (Nothing graphic.)
As Above , So Below.
cw for suicide
He had a lot of time to comprehend what was going on by the time he'd respawned, but it didn't mean 7 was necessarily okay about it.
In fact, when his feet shakily touched the padded straw that was the bottom of the cage, vision blurry and undefined, he could still clearly see blood fall onto the floor. Yeah okay. She was less than okay.
She didn't reach for her communicator. It was buzzing with an alarmed frequency but she didn't care to soothe the rest of the server. Looking up was haunting, a too big space for too small a person, too weak a player. An unreachable exit, a stark reminder of own trapped existence.
He clung to the bars, making his way around carefully. Everything felt too vast now, especially for one player. The beautiful simulated outside landscape just a boring backdrop. What was built to be a playground, just useless slop in the face of eternal loneliness. She reached the door of the cage.
Thankfully, the supports were still there. He'd finished the ceiling that same day, suffered a fatal fall from it all, it was supposed to only be up from here. He clutched the bars tighter, the ground spinning under him, blood still spilling from the open wounds.
He was sure it wasn't supposed to be like this. He'd died before, he'd been killed before, murdered, maimed, but it had never been this violent or brutal an awakening.
Though maybe it was good she was back in the cage, there were no more reasons for her to leave anyways, the server had proved itself hostile and unwelcoming. They were supposed to keep them safe in therapy after all and she ended up at the other end of the blade that was meant to protect them. It was a little too on the nose.
She didn't have anyone left.
Everyone had left.
There wasn't a single person who he mattered to anymore.
He was no longer a teammate. The one thing he considered himself, throughout everything.
She'd given so, so much of herself to the team that now it was gone there was nothing there anymore. No reason for anything, this base she lovingly built with her own hands now her own prison and her soon to be grave.
She didn't expect to be missed much.
The comms still buzzed regardless, maybe some apologies, maybe asking 7 to come back, but all that was said was said, and all that was done was done.
Despite the love she'd put out into the world it turns out she was unworthy of being loved in turn. She'd done everything she possibly could, did everything asked of her and even more, and she was left with nothing. Foolishly, she'd made herself vulnerable, stripped herself of her potions for some symbolic metaphor, trusted her inventory with her most precious items, and so here she was, standing at the edge of the cage, clutching the bars, watching how the grass below spun under blurry eyes.
Normally 10 was here, around him, always chirping, to soothe him but it had died that day. Emotionally he'd died alongside it. Just held himself together long enough to go to therapy to heal some long broken part of himself, only to leave worse than ever.
Without the unconditional love from a pet he was virtually unlovable anymore. She had had friends- no longer willing to think of herself in the present, eyes screwed closed, tears falling regardless. She had had friends, but those were fleeting and they didn't know her as well as the devil did. And the devil knew she was unlikable and impossible to love.
It was a long way down, all dug out by hand, but she didn't fear much. There wasn't more she could lose.
This time when she hit the ground she did not respawn.
baratheonpilled
romaincrisis
2087
dededos
