Fear Itself Suits Novels & Stories

“I survived despite fear. That’s different. The fear is still there. I just learned to function around it.” “Teach me.” “It’s not something you teach. It’s something you practice. You wake up scared. You exist anyway. You go to sleep scared. You wake up again. Eventually existing becomes habit strong enough that fear can’t stop it.” The white Source considered this. Looked at the light in its hand. At the fallen thing. At Lena and Finn and Ash standing witness to its terror. “I will try. But I make no promises. Fear is very loud inside me. Louder than everything else.”

I said: I know. He said: and she still did this. I said: yes. He looked at the monitor. The two lines, steady and present. He said: I keep looking at the monitor. I said: I know. I have been watching you look at it. He said: I cannot stop running the calculation. Even though the numbers are good. I keep running it. I said: that is what fear does when it does not have anywhere else to go. He looked at me. I said: it runs the numbers. Over and over. Because running the numbers feels like doing something and doing something feels safer than simply waiting for the outcome to be what it is going to be.

She stared at me with her hip jutted out and her hand in the air. "I found my mate" "OMG! Yesssss finally! Oh, please tell me it's the Bennet wolf! She's so badass! I watched her put Murphy in his place so hard for whistling at her." "It is, but....." "Oh no! Why is there always a but with you??" "Would you let me finish! I think she is afraid of me. She called me ruthless and evil." "Oh, Kil, I'm so sorry. You can win her over. Just open up your walls a bit let people in sometimes."

“Not at all. Often strangers can allow us to become who we really want to be, free of the tight confines that society and those around us place on us.” “Yes. Maybe I like it too much. That’s what scares me.” I spun her around, keeping her knees bent as I placed her feet on the surface. Then I took my time using only my index fingers, sliding the rough pads along the insides of her legs. “Fear isn’t something to shy away from. It’s actually a formidable release of emotions, allowing you to feel alive when all else fails to do so. It’s also a powerful tool.” I studied her reaction, smiling as she opened her legs, exposing her pretty pink pussy for me.

“Who am I? This was my personality created out of fear. Allow me to introduce myself. I am twenty eight. My skin is flawless and it’s not the result of artificial products. My brown eyes are currently glaring at you.” “Tell me more I am intrigued.” “I am a coward. That is a known fact about myself I have accepted with shame. I suspect for some time now that there is a possibility for change but…Fear is my love, fear is my friend, fear is my protector but the reality is that I know fear is the enemy. I kept a blind eye on myself denying that fear is my blanket of comfort towards life. I judge everyone and everything around me on the basis of fear.” “Sammy…”

“It builds even when you’re not trying.” She leaned slightly toward him. “That feels true.” His arm came around her, easy and familiar. She rested her head against his shoulder, the contact grounding rather than consuming. They stayed like that for a long time. ************************************************************** Later, as the night deepened, the conversation shifted naturally. “I’ve been thinking about fear,” Lena said. “Not the obvious kind. The quieter ones.” Eli glanced down at her. “Which ones?” “The fear of being seen accurately,” she said. “Not idealized. Not misunderstood. Just… known.”

"Yes." She looked at the courtyard wall beneath her hands. The stone was cold and real and entirely specific in its texture. "Sable said the suppression feeds on fear. On stress chemistry." She kept her voice level. "She said the reason it's beginning to loosen is because I've been—" She stopped. "Less afraid," he said. "Less afraid." She looked at him. "Here." He held her gaze. He did not perform what that meant to him — he simply received it and held it, the way he held most things, without requiring it to be more than it was.

Because the numbers would have to be wrong to make him fit, and Hacker’s numbers aren’t wrong. Stalker came next—eyes quick, shoulders hunched like she wanted to run and kept choosing not to. She talked fast, then faster when she realized talking fast made her sound guilty. I asked less, listened more. Fear isn’t guilt. Fear is math. You measure it against baseline. Hers matched.

RHEA Fear is such a cruel thing. For years, I convinced myself that if I never speak the worst possibility aloud, then it can never truly exist. As long as I keep searching, keep hoping, keep finding another lead to follow, then there is still something to hold on to. As long as I don’t say the words, there is always a chance I’m wrong. But now the words are out. And for the first time, I realise how much they’ve imprisoned me.

Those images burn bright and sometimes I let them light the dark. My fear hasn’t left me. It will not. I doubt it ever will. But the fear is now stylized; it has a job. It informs me. It keeps my hands moving, my eyes open, the patrols changing like a steady heartbeat. I tuck those fears away so they are not cruel or paralyzing. I turn them into practice, into slow, consistent action.