RANDOM STUFF THAT IM POSTING

Death was something they were used to.

Zimbie witnessed it often, hell, they caused it often. They never had a grudge or huge dramatic reason to it, they just wanted to see what happened. If it's the cause of their lack of empathy or the result of it, Zimbie didn't know. And honestly, Zimbie didn't care.

Or, they used to not care.

They grew fond of the Dane who was currently taking his last breaths. They've seen that sort of situation so many times, and yet here it really started to mess with their head.

Maybe it was the way they all cried for him. Maybe it was the way they acted like nothing was going on. Maybe it was because the youngest was too oblivious to the terrible fate his uncle is trapped in.

Or maybe, it's the man himself.

He never once complained about the situation, no matter how bad things got. He never liked it, but he had a goal. All that man wanted was to see his family again. But he'd never get that now.

He can feel them, he can hear them, but he'll never see them again.

Something about that upset Zimbie.

They could easily change that, but in this situation, and for the first time in their life, they felt... powerless.

Watching him pass was... hard.

They walked around hellspace. The empty, soundless void provided no comfort, as per usual.

They eventually got tired of the endless land of pure white and found a lake in a rather peaceful time. They starred at the water trying to process why they felt that weird emotion. They've seen that man die before, multiple times actually. And yet they've never felt like... this. They could see their reflection in the water. The water was clear, but the calm water was soon interrupted by Kumo, filling in the void of the water.

"Haven't seen that look on ya. What's up, Zimbie?"

Oh, Kumo.

Zimbie stabbed him in the back, quite literally. They didn't feel bad for it back then, and they haven't thought about it much since. They turned to look at her.

"I think I'm sick."

Kumo laughed, which upset Zimbie.

"Zimbie, we can't get sick."

They suddenly felt a lot calmer.

"Ah."

"So," Kumo sat down next to them, "what's really going on?"

Zimbie had to think for a minute. What WAS going on?

"No clue. Saw someone die and I've just felt..." they moved their hands as to help them explain their emotions more, "this."

"I see..." Kumo paused for a few seconds, but it felt like hours to Zimbie. "I think that's called guilt."

"Guilt?"

"Guilt."

Zimbie was confused. They heard people talk about it, they've felt with people who were guilt absorbed, but they've never felt it.

Luckily, they were sure they would never feel this way ever again.

Until they did.

Zimbie hated interacting with that universe. Everyone was too desperate, always wanting to be something more than they'll ever become.

Everyone but the amnesiac ghost.

They wouldn't admit it outload, but they grew fond of the ghost. He was nothing but kind to them, and everyone in their eyes.

He would talk about what he remembered about being alive, or what he was told about himself when he was alive. Zimbie would listen, no intentions to find a way to shatter him.

Zimbie knew they were worse than the ghost's alive self, but for once they didn't want to show that to their ghost friend. For some odd reason, they wanted to stay around him.

But then he was taken away from them.

That funny feeling was back.

They found themselves by an ocean. They sat on the wall and stared the ocean down. The wind combed their hair, pushing their feelings around with it. They heard a familiar pattern of footsteps coming close to them.

Kumo didn't need to say anything. He just pulled Zimbie into a hug and held them against her chest.

No words were exchanged. The two just sat there as the world around them moved on.