#self deprication tw

[mintmatcha]

ochako core but it's a trick to be naked and complimented by you

[shilo-sumac]

i am so apologypilled forgivenessmaxxer

[writer-of-histories]

I know not what to say. My hands still shake as I write this. Forgive me for my poor penmanship.

Lord Haurchefant is dead. He spoke of his i breaking shield, his unwavering strength. But Zephrin, I still curse his name, was stronger.

No, not stronger. Strength had nothing to do with it. Lord Haurchefant was the strongest I knew. He so bravely stepped in front of Aki, shielding her from Zephrin’s bolt of light.

Aki… Poor Aki. She recently fell asleep on my shoulder as we fly to the Sea of Clouds. She has not stopped crying since. I fear she blames herself. She has not spoken a word to anyone since it happened.

He spoke to her, before his passing. “A smile better suits a hero.” Words I shall live by, though I be no hero, he is right. It will be hard, learning to smile without him. But it can be done. I only hope I can teach the children this, too.

My boy… We went to speak with Cid, who had not heard of Haurchefant’s passing. I tried to tell him, but my hands would not move with me. They trembled, until they simply stopped. I couldn’t say it. Kris stepped in and told Cid. I wish I could have been stronger, that Kris would not have had to pick up my failings. He is strong, too.

I am surrounded by such incredibly strong people, and yet I still come up failing. Am I really so useless? That I would need my son to say what I cannot? That I couldn’t save Haurchefant?

It should have been me. Haurchefant should still draw breath. Would that I had been faster.

The sea of clouds draws near. Until next time.

[theyvefallen-arch]

Mobile 🪶. In the process of cleaning my whole house. I cleaned the old bedroom I was staying in, and after my break I will scrub it and detail it accordingly. I’ll be washing my sheets and bedding in the tub, after my quick shower. I feel so drained yall.

[eddiemunsonspantschain]

The Boyfriend Experience - EM

Author's Note: This is very personal to me. I wrote this about my experieces and facts about myself. Which I know isn't very reader insert friendly but as my friend @boomhauer had said, for all I know, I'm not alone in this. This will be a mini series. Idk how many parts it will have but I wanted to do more than one.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x virgin!reader

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of weight, mentions of being overweight, body image issues, body dysphoria, self deprication, sexual experiences, lack of sexual experience, teasing, angst.

You do not have permission to copy, translate or repost my work onto other sites or social medias. This work is my own and it is owned by me.

Having a large friend group was nice. Nice enough, at least for you. Between the Hellfire boys and the party you were fortunate enough to have many friends. You were close to the party the most over the shared trauma of the upside down and things that go bump in the night. It was easy to be open with them so some topics of conversation didn’t bother you… until certain comments were made. You had never intended to let the information about yourself shift the dynamic of your friendships. At this point in your life, you had reluctantly accepted a fact about yourself when it came to romantic relationships and activities. However, your friend groups learning that you were a virgin even now past graduating high school seemed to change everything. It wasn’t like you wanted to seek out the first willing male participant and ‘get it over with’ as some past friends had told you to do before. You didn’t want that for yourself. It didn’t feel right for you.

The unfortunate thing about it was that no one was into you. That was something you had concluded on your own in your own time. It was either the pudge of your stomach and the squishiness of other parts of your body or simply your personality. You weren’t sure. Maybe it was all of it. You had spent many a time pinching, poking and prodding at your body in the mirror as tears silently slid down your cheeks. Most of the time you avoided reflective surfaces all together as it shattered the illusion of what you thought and wished you looked like. One look in a reflection made your confidence dwindle down to nothing like something small being dropped off of a skyscraper just to shatter on impact at the pavement below. So you wore baggy clothes. Hiding your figure was better than being gawked at for trying to wear clothes other girls, skinnier girls, pulled off effortlessly. The hammer that hit the nail on the head was when you noticed some things. Was it other people’s fault? No, it wasn’t. But when you went out with friends who were deemed more attractive than you and people approached them to talk to them while you stood there, drink in hand. It was hard not to notice. The icing on the cake had been the one time you were left standing at the bar, all your friends off talking to someone in the bar that had approached them while you played with the condensation that dripped down onto the bartop. 

You lacked social experiences. You had never been on a date before, never had a boyfriend either. You had a first kiss at least though it had been a long time ago. How your friends didn’t know this, you had no idea. A rousing game of truth or dare brought this information to light for everyone. The kids weren’t invited as it was an adults only party Steve had decided to throw. The Hellfire boys, Nancy, Robin, Steve, Jonathan and Argyle as well as yourself all sat in a circle with your respective drinks in hand. It had been your turn, so you chose truth, wanting a break for a moment as the dares got more daring as time went on and more alcohol was consumed. Drinking the ‘mega condiment’ as Argyle named it–a mixture of literally every condiment housed in the Harrington fridge–was not on your list of things to drink that night. Especially after seeing Robin gag after taking a sip of it. 

The Harrington house was big enough to house all of you. Not to mention a supplemental bar for when you all ran out of what you brought with yourselves. These ‘adults only’ parties tended to last all night with drinks, food and usually crashing there. At times it was movies or more importantly drinking games that were played at these events. Tonight the stack of playing cards had been retired early in favor of Truth or Dare. Jeff hummed as he thought over what he could ask you. His eyes lit up as he figured out his question. “Who did you lose your virginity to?” He asked you with a grin. It wasn’t uncommon for these question to get more personal and daring the more you all drank. So you weren’t necessarily surprised at the topic but the fact that it had been aimed at you, one of the only single people in attendance. Normally, these embarrassing personal questions were aimed at the couples.

You felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment. As everyone waited for their answer, you simply looked away from Jeff and took a swig from your drink to avoid answering. That was one rule that had been put in place. You could opt out by drinking your drink. No questions asked. Or at least, no requirement to answer.

“Must be embarrassed about who it is.” Gareth chuckled with a small shrug as he drained the last of his beer.

“Or she didn’t lose it at all.” Jeff playfully jokes, but something on your face must have given it away as Jeff’s eyes widened in realization. “You haven’t lost it?!” He gasped.

“How? You’re like… in your twenties.” 

“I just haven’t. Alright?” You practically snapped at Gareth and Jeff.

“Well, have you come close? Like on a date getting hot and heavy with someone?” Steve asked, leaning over to hand Gareth another beer after popping the bottle cap off with his bare hand.

“No… I’ve never been on a date so,” You mumbled into your cup as you took another drink.

“You’ve never been on a date?!” Nancy asked, shock written on her face. “I thought Ethan when we were soph-”

“Yeah. He stood me up and made jokes about it for a week after.” You cut Nancy off with a tight smile. “I’m not girlfriend material, apparently. Now if you’ll excuse me.” You pushed yourself off of the floor and headed for Steve’s kitchen to make yourself another drink. Your cheeks were hot with embarrassment and you could feel tears threatening to breach the barrier of your lower lashes. At times, you could brave the embarrassment of being a virgin at your age. However now again you found yourself longing for something you had not had the privilege of having. Yearning for a connection to someone who likes you for who you are, not necessarily what you look like. When those feelings hit you, it was hard not to be hurt at the realization that you might never have these experiences. You could hear laughter in the other room, the immediate assumption in your fragile state that it was about you. Your lower lip wobbled as you opened the container of cranberry juice, pouring a full glass of it knowing adding more alcohol would make it harder to compose yourself now and you’d like to leave with a shred of your dignity left intact.

“Enough.” You heard Eddie’s voice snap, presumably at the Hellfire boys as he usually reigned them in. You sniffled, wiping at your cheeks quickly before going to grab the hoodie you had abandoned on the back of a kitchen chair earlier. You needed the comfort, shielding your body away before you trudged back into the room of your friends with your mask back on firmly in place.

Since then, things have been different. Your lack of experiences, lack of romance and lack of self confidence were sore spots for you. Some told you you simply weren’t trying hard enough. As if it were that easy to just make people like you. Or want you for more than just what was between your thighs or under your shirt. As if anyone would want to see that. Since the night of the party, the group made it a point to keep certain topics of conversation to a minimum or overall stopping the conversation when you joined the group. As if they didn’t think you would notice. It was hard to ignore that the topics of recent date nights ceased the second you were close enough to them all. With hushed ‘later’s, ‘not now’s and ‘I’ll finish telling you later’s being the main indication when you manage to hear them.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” You sighed as you crossed your arms over the counter of Family Video, looking at Steve and Robin expectantly. You had heard their conversation when you walked in there but when you approached the counter Steve had quickly shushed Robin from talking further. “What are you both talking about?” You asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” Robin waved you off with a smile as she rang up the movie you had brought over.

“I was just telling Robin about my date the other night. After we had dinner we started getting hot and heavy in my car, went to Lovers Lake to have-”

“Shh! Steve, innocent ears! We have to keep her purity intact.” Robin shushed him, smacking him in the chest.

Your face fell. “Excuse me?” You asked Robin in a clipped tone, not bothering to hide your anger and annoyance.

The air had shifted as had the mood. Robin’s face fell as she realized that her joke had not been amusing to you but instead upset you. “It’s just that… No, Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that!” Robin apologized quickly.

You scoffed, pulling your wallet out and throwing cash onto the counter to cover the movie and a packet of Red Vines. “Thanks.” You mumbled, snatching up the movie and a packet of Red Vines before heading out of the store quickly.

—----------

It was movie night. That was the reason for your trip into Family Video that week. The Hellfire group would have a movie night once every week or so. Everyone brought in a movie and you all would decide which ones to watch. You sat on the couch, always having privileges for the couch per Eddie’s orders since in his words: you are the lady here. You sat beside Eddie, sharing your Red Vines with him while he shared his popcorn with you. Since that day in Family Video you hadn’t seen neither Steve nor Robin, actively avoiding both of them. You had mumbled an acceptance of Robin’s apology when she called but hadn’t wanted to see either of them. It got worse though. Almost all of your friends had made a joke about your lack of experience thus far. If there wasn’t a joke about it there was reassurance that didn’t feel so reassuring. Nancy had tried to reassure you that there was nothing wrong with being a virgin still at your age. Eddie, Jonathan and Argyle seemed to be the only ones smart enough to not make any comments about the subject. Something you praised God for. Now it was the end of the week and you were just ready for everyone to move past this once and for all. 

On the screen in front of you was a horror movie. Something you weren’t unfamiliar with. You sighed as you sunk into the couch with Eddie. You watched as two teens snuck away with the intention of having fun with one another and felt your mood sour. You waited for it. Some kind of comment to be passed your way.

“These are always so cheesy and these parts? Boring.” Lucas complained, tossing pieces of popcorn at the screen itself.

“That’s because you’ve never experienced it, Sinclair.” Gareth laughed, nudging the other boy.

“As if he should listen to any advice from you.” Eddie nudged Gareth with his foot.

“I’m full of advice! Good advice!” He argued back with Eddie.

“Suuure you are.” You added, “None of you seem like you’d know what to do anyway. Just fumble and ask where things are.”

“Oh, please!” Freak laughed and grinned at you. “Here’s something we can at least tell you, Y/N.” His tone took on one you would use when speaking to a child, “When a man and a woman love each other, his peepee goes in the hole between your legs. That’s where you put it. In case you didn’t know since you’re still a virgin.”

“Freak, knock it off.” Eddie hissed in his direction.

You didn’t even dignify him with an answer. You stood up, stepping over Gareth and Jeff as you made your way to the door. 

“Y/N?” Eddie called, but you didn’t dare look behind you. Instead, you slid your jacket onto your body, picked up your bag and threw open the door to Eddie’s trailer deciding to leave the movie you rented there.

You hopped down onto the porch, the screen door behind you smacking shut loudly as you bounded off the porch and over to your car. You heard the door open back up behind you and Eddie called out your name again. You ignored him, sliding into your car and peeling away from the trailer park like your ass was on fire. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, ignoring the tears sliding down your cheeks. It was one thing to hear jokes that you were still a virgin. It was another thing to have people demean you thinking you were innocent and didn’t know anything because of it. You weren’t a fucking child. You knew probably more than they did about the female body and what to do. Years of hearing your peers talk about it had been informative enough. 

As soon as you got to your apartment, you shuffled yourself inside and shut the door tightly behind you. You crumbled. You were embarrassed and upset, wanting to just crawl in a hole and forget this week had ever happened. You pulled yourself up, trudging to the bathroom and taking a hot shower before pulling on panties, sweatpants and a tank top deciding to leave the death trap on the floor of the bathroom. You moved to the living room, seeking out a new movie to put on in the hopes it would distract yourself from the disastrous night. You put on one of your favorites before tucking yourself into your couch with your favorite fuzzy blanket and pillow. You only got through about fifteen minutes of the film before there was a knock on your door. You ignored it, favoring pretending you weren’t home or didn’t exist than face whoever was on the other side of that wooden barrier. The knocking came again, harder and more insistent this time.

“Go away!” You called out to the door. You assumed it was Freak, Gareth and Jeff. No doubt sent there by Eddie to apologize for upsetting you. He never let the other guys bother you too much. 

“Open up, sweetheart. It’s me.” The man you thought had sent others to your door was actually the one behind it.

“No.” You called back out. You were thankful that Eddie didn’t make fun of you like the others did or comment on it. But you were embarrassed and felt ugly. 

“Please? I have something for you.” You sighed. Knowing Eddie he would either camp out in front of your door or more likely pick your lock or climb through your window in your bedroom if you didn’t let him in. You pulled yourself up off the couch and went to the door, unlocking it and opening up the door. His smile was wide and bright when you opened the door. His arms were laden with items and he nudged you with his foot. “May I come in?” He asked you, batting his lashes at you.

You stepped aside, letting the lanky metalhead into your home. Eddie moved inside of your apartment quickly and you watched him like he was some foreign entity in your home. Eddie had been in your apartment before but never alone with you. It was always accompanied by one of your friends. He had just never come here by himself. You wouldn’t have thought so though as he effortlessly placed down the items in his arms. He had a pizza box with him, two shopping bags and a backpack on his back. From the plastic bags he pulled out some beer, candy and movies presumably from his own home. “What’re you doing here, Eddie?” You sighed, shutting your door and moving back to your couch. You burrowed yourself under your blanket again, pillow tucked behind your back. “Where are the guys?”

“Well, you left clearly upset, and I kicked the guys out.” Eddie answered nonchalantly. He stopped his movements of sorting out the treats he brought to look at you. “They shouldn’t have said what they said.” He spoke softly, watching you.

You took a breath. “Thank you… You didn’t have to come here though.” You mumbled, crossing your arms.

“I wanted to.” Eddie waved you off. “Now, I’m gonna go change cause we’re having a sleepover. I have your favorite.” He flipped open the pizza box to reveal your favorite toppings. “I will be back!” He took his backpack into your bedroom. You leaned over, assessing the pizza and snacks he had brought with him for you. You took a slice of pizza and gently began munching on it, trying to fight off the negative thoughts about how this food wasn’t good for you and wouldn’t help your situation but only deepen the purple stretch marks on your stomach and thighs.

When Eddie returned, he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a faded Judas Priest t-shirt. He dropped down onto the couch on the opposite side of you and picked up a slice of pizza, taking a huge bite out of the food. He settled down, wiggling your blanket out from under him to get under the fabric and be comfortable with you. You both sat like that for a while, watching the movie you had put on and eating the pizza. Eventually one of the movies Eddie had brought with him was put on. You both fell into a comfortable silence but you knew it would eventually break.

As the second movie played you were about halfway through it when Eddie finally spoke up. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked you, turning his head to look at you. You turned your head to meet his eyes and felt your walls crumble. You wanted to say no… but with Eddie’s gaze on you, it was hard to compose yourself. You flashed back to what happened not too long ago and over the week in general. You didn’t realize that more tears began to slide down your cheeks. “I’m just so sick of everyone thinking I’m innocent just because I haven’t fucked someone. I’m not an idiot. I’m not a child. I fucking know things.” You sobbed quietly, hurriedly wiping at your cheeks. “It’s not my fault I’m not the kind of girl anyone wants.” You felt the couch shift as Eddie moved closer, the weight of his arm falling over your shoulders. He moved your legs over his lap, tucking you into his side as you cried. “They act like it was somehow my choice. Like I haven’t wanted to have a boyfriend, have sex, go on dates, be loved by someone. If it were my choice I would’ve done all those things! But no one is interested in me. How is that my fault?” You babbled on, tucking your face against Eddie’s chest and finding comfort in the smell of him.

“First of all, they were wrong to make you seem like you don’t know shit. Second of all, you are absolutely the kind of girl people want. Smart people who have eyes and aren’t selfish assholes. I know if you had the choice, you would’ve done those things. Clearly, since this upsets you so much, babe. There’s nothing wrong with taking your time.” Eddie spoke softly, his thumb rubbing your skin comfortingly as he spoke.

“Sure, Eddie. Whatever you say.” You murmured, feeling drained from the week itself. A silence fell over the two of you as you felt your insecurities swallow your mind. “Maybe if I was skinnier… prettier. Like Nancy, smart too.” You mumbled. You gasped when Eddie suddenly moved back. You looked at him and he had moved back to stare at you. What shocked you was the anger on his face.

“Do not. Say that.” He spoke sternly, watching you. “There is nothing wrong with you. Your body, your mind, nothing.”

“But-”

“No!” Eddie frowned, a crease forming between his brows as he showed his unhappiness at your lack of self-confidence. “No buts! Yours is phenomenal, by the way.” He was moving before you could even process what you just heard, your cheeks warming when you realized. He was pulling at your legs. You made a small sound as he pulled you til you were laying on your couch. You adjusted the pillow that had once been behind your back to be behind your head instead, deciding to humor Eddie. You knew him well enough that he would say what he wanted to say whether you wanted to hear it or not. He was never shy to share his opinion, sometimes unprompted. “Look,” Eddie moved on top of you. He straddled your thighs as his hair fell over your face like a curtain. Without thinking about it you moved his hair back from his face. “Hi, pretty girl.” Eddie grinned at you. You pouted at him, using one hand to tug on his earlobe. He whined and winced, “Ow.” he mumbled softly. Eddie’s hands moved from holding himself up above you instead favoring to rest his body against yours. You grunt softly at the new weight but it wasn’t bothering you. 

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You huff and Eddie grins back at you.

“Shh. Hold on. I’m gonna give you the boyfriend experience, okay. Let me show you how pretty you are.” He shushed you, moving his hand up to your face. His middle finger gently ran over your forehead, moving down the bridge of your nose. Your eyebrows were creased in confusion as you took in what he was doing but your breath hitched in your throat as his lips pressed between your eyebrows, smoothing the crease away. His soft touch moved down over the tip of your nose down to your cupid’s bow before moving over your cheekbone. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. You were fumbling as you processed the fact that Eddie Munson was kissing your face. His lips followed his finger as he kissed your cheek bone. More kisses followed over your cheek, jaw and chin. 

“Ed-”

“Shhh,” He softly shushed you again, middle finger moving over your top lip before running over your lower lip. You waited, holding your breath. That breath escaped you when Eddie pressed his lips to yours. You knew what to do, of course, pressing your lips back to Eddie’s but truly you were sure you were a horrible kisser. His hand now cupped your cheek as his lips moved against yours like he was trying to show you what to do. Soon you melted in his embrace, just enjoying kissing him. His lips were slightly chapped but soft and you made a mental note to share your cherry lip balm with him so he didn’t crack his lips. Eddie’s lips left yours though and you whimpered softly as he moved away. A breathy chuckle left him. “You have to breathe, pumpkin. Okay?” He murmured, nose nudging yours gently. Then he was moving again. He tucked his head into your neck, peppering kisses against your skin. He kissed over your collarbones before kissing the tops of your breasts. “No bra when you’re at home? I should come visit more often.” He mumbled against your skin, running his nose over your cloth covered mounds. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a devilish smile on his lips. 

“Gonna come over more often now cause I don’t wear a bra at home?” You scoffed and Eddie nodded against you. 

“Mhm, and cause I can see your nipples through your tank top.” He chuckled and moved his hands down to your hips. His hands moved back up, pushing your tank top up. You reached for his hands but he stopped just under your breasts. “Not going further. I didn’t ask permission yet.” He murmured and shuffled down your body. His nose nudged gently at your stomach, admiring the pudginess that was there. He began scattering kisses over your soft flesh. Over stretch marks ranging from soft pink, barely there to fresh purple ones. You squirmed a little under him, cheeks warming in embarrassment and self consciousness. “You’re so cute.” He mumbled against your skin, looking up at you. You pouted, feeling tears tug at your lashes again. “No crying, baby.” He murmured, “Not wanting to make you feel bad. Just wanna admire you.” You sniffled, gently wiping at your eyes as you nodded down at him. You were unsure of Eddie’s plan. Why he was doing this and how far he was going to go but you were going to give him his time, enjoying the limited attention he was affording you.

Eddie waited for you to calm down before he continued. He kissed over your hips, hands moving to pull your sweatpants down slightly. He pulled the material down over your legs, setting them aside and you froze again. He bypassed your panties which made you pout a little but you knew Eddie had a plan. His kisses continue over the tops of your thighs before moving to kiss the sides of them. He lifted one of your legs, lips moving down your calf and over your ankle before he kissed the top of your foot. When he was satisfied that he had covered you in enough kisses he grabbed your sweatpants and pulled the material back over your legs and settled himself on top of you again once you were clothed again. Eddie had laid himself so his head rested at your neck. One arm snaked under your body while his other hand moved to gently run his fingers through your hair. 

“You can call me crazy if you want,” Eddie mumbled against your skin. “But what if I gave you the boyfriend experience. Doesn’t have to go anywhere. Just… show you what you’re missing.” 

You blinked, thinking over Eddie’s suggestion. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Eddie. You liked him a lot especially once you saw the soft side of the scary looking metal head. You figured you weren’t his type despite the affection he’d shown you tonight. So what was the harm in taking him up on gaining some experience? You hummed softly and stroked your fingers through his hair. “Yeah… I’d like that.” You murmured quietly, feeling the smile that spread over his lips before he pressed a kiss to your throat. 

Eventually the two of you moved so you could enjoy the slightly cold pizza Eddie had brought you both. The two of you ate most of it, tucking the rest into the fridge. You yawned gently as you packed up the snacks and Eddie’s hands gently grabbed at your arms to stop you. He steered you towards your room, shutting the tv off on the way. Inside your room you crawled into bed and laid on your side, figuring Eddie would help himself to wherever he wanted to sleep. The bed dipped beside you and Eddie shuffled closer to you. “An important part of the boyfriend experience, cuddling.” He murmured as he pressed himself to your back. He tangled his legs with yours, holding onto you. You could feel that he had shed his shirt before climbing into bed with you. His hand rested on your belly and you resisted the urge to move it. You didn’t even like touching your own belly but someone else touching the area made you want to crawl out of your skin. After a few minutes though you relaxed enough, gently falling asleep in his arms.

—----------------------------------------

The next morning you had woken up still in Eddie’s embrace. He was holding onto you tightly, gentle snores falling from his lips. You picked up his arm, attempting to wiggle free from his hold at first until he tightened his arm around you further. You huffed but smiled, picking up his arm again and getting free. You padded out of your room to the kitchen and started to brew some coffee. You grabbed what you needed to make some simple bacon and eggs for you both, humming as you did so. As you added some cheese into the eggs you heard him before you felt him. He had just managed to step on one of the creaky floor boards. Eddie’s arms wrapped around you and his head found home on your shoulder. 

“You left me,” He mumbled against your skin.

“I made breakfast.” You answered, plucking up a piece of bacon and offering it to him.

Eddie lifted his head and bit into the bacon, chewing thoughtfully. “All is forgiven.”

You chuckled and shook your head, finishing the other half of the strip of salty pork before returning to moving the eggs around. Eddie removed himself from you to grab the plates you set aside for you both. He held both as you scooped some eggs onto the plates before placing bacon strips onto them. Eddie took them to the table as you popped toast into the toaster and started to make your cup of coffee. Once all the food was ready you both sat down to eat. You found your eyes wandering to the boy that sat beside you. Eddie’s hair was a frizzy mess from sleeping with it loose last night. His torso and arms were toned and not overly muscular. You figured he lifted a lot of heavy things having heard he worked at a mechanics shop now. Blotches of scars were on his arms and torso from where the demobats had feasted on his flesh but you didn’t find them repulsive. It made Eddie look rugged in a way. Even if his nipple and his chest tattoos had suffered because of it. His rings were absent, most likely sitting on your bedside table now.

“Like what you see?” 

You moved your eyes away from Eddie’s chest to look at his face. He smiled at you. A kind, warm smile like you guys had known one another a long time. His big chocolate orbs watched you carefully but as he shifted the sun caught his eyes, turning them amber. You chuckled at the scrunch of his nose and the squint of his eyes as they were invaded by the sun. You stood up, moving to your window and pulling the sheer curtains together. “I like natural light.” You told him, returning to your seat. 

Eddie hummed, picking up your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Thank you for breakfast.” He murmured with another bright smile.

“You brought me dinner last night. It’s only fair.” You reason with a small shrug. When you finish your meal you put your plate in the sink and refill your mug before retiring to your couch once again under your blanket. Eddie joins you moments later, slipping under your blanket and shifting closer to you, arm around your shoulders. You turned the TV on, finding something to watch as you sip your coffee. You only look away when a gentle tap comes to your chin and you turn your head, Eddie lips pressing to yours. 

“Forgot to properly tell you good morning.” He murmured against your lips.

You feel your face warm, kissing Eddie again. “Good morning,” You murmured.

“Good morning,”

—-------------------------

You and Eddie spent the day together. You watched TV, made lunch and finally talked about what you would both be doing. Eddie offered a no strings attached experience, explaining that he would provide you with the experience of what it was like to have a boyfriend and whatever else you might like at no cost to you besides your time.

“You don’t want anything?” You asked, raising a brow at the boy.

Eddie nodded his head. “Nothing.”

“There has to be something you want to be doing this.”

Eddie hummed and shook his head again. “I’m getting it already.”

“What?”

He smiled at you and reached for your hand. “What I want… is you.” He murmured, “Stupid, I know. Me being an option but I’m happy just… filling the role for you. Til you find what you want.”

That was the thing. You didn’t know what you wanted. You wanted to be loved, yes. Someone who wanted you. Which Eddie claimed he was that person. Someone who wanted you. That was something difficult for you to grasp. Why would someone want somebody as imperfect as you are? You were a burden, an issue. Or simply just the thing in the corner that was easily ignored. You simply nodded at Eddie’s words though and leaned over, pressing your lips to his even if you didn’t believe a word he said.

.

..

...

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[bpdbeehive]

I'm sorry I can't help it please don't be upset I just love you and want the best for you

[tap3tum-lucidum]

[bitchy-bi-trash]

I feel so ugly, so repulsive that when I let someone even touch me, i feel disgusted for them, it's like I made them commit a sin.

[l0nd0n-3xists]

I wish I was skinny. I wish I was pretty. I wish I wasn't sensitive. I wish I wasn't annoying. I wish I wasn't clingy. I wish I had pretty hair. I wish I was taller. I wish I had a purpose. I wish people actually liked me. I wish I was fun to be around. I wish I didn't hate myself. I wish I wanted to be alive.

I wish I was dead.

[mysticpeachnight]

Im not enough to make anyone happy, I'll never know why I thought I could be. I guess I thought if Im able to get my happiness from a person I could be that source of happiness for someone. Im not enough though, I'm not enough for anyone. If I was, none of my friends would be depressed, none of them would be dead, it's all my fault I wasn't enough for them for any of them.

[looks-at-you]

I'm doing what I like to call "fogging" right now and yes this is a magnus archives reference this is basically me self depricating I've basically fallen into the lonely don't come looking for me

[re-ikrmso]

hey look its my rampant procrastionation i sure hope i learn from my past mistakes and not-

me asf rn:

okay but funny thing i actually couldve liked. procrastonated and still gotten a decent job done. now im getting an automatic 25% deduction off because its late by fucking 4 minutes. goodbye like possible low 80s. hello 60s for a class i should be easily passing. fuck. my IB draft is coming up too. im barely staying afloat. everytime i work i get literally too anxious. i quite literally stop thinking and processing

[whumpitisthen]

Mori

Previous I Masterlist I Next

CWs: broken bones, religious themes, self-esteem issues, fear, crying, torture, sadistic whumper, non-human whumpee/whumper, multiple whumpees, referenced murder/gore/violence

The first thing Auden senses when he wakes is a delightful softness surrounding him. Consciousness crawls back to him like a lover would into his bed, cradling him gently with care. Everything is perfectly warm and safe. He could sleep forever exactly as he is; snuggled under a heavy blanket, breathing in the smell of pristine sheets…

The quietest groan leaves him with a sigh in tow, a pleasant shiver running through him as he stretches. He doesn't know how long it's been since he slept this well. Half of him believes he is dreaming. He turns over, landing on his stomach. It's even more comfortable, which is almost the strangest thing. He doesn't remember any of his own bedding feeling this cosy.

Wait. He doesn't have a bed. Why is he even sleeping?

His brows furrow in deep confusion before he opens his eyes tentatively with newfound dread. His fingers grip onto an unfamiliar duvet. His eyes lock onto unfamiliar walls reaching high up in the air, ending in a ceiling covered in spectacular carvings. There is a large mirror on the wall in front of him, his own steadily more worried expression reflected back at him just as unfamiliar.

Black locks fall into his eyes, black wings ruffle behind him. Right. He has Fallen. This is Hell, then.

He sits up in the lavish bed, thinking of the worst possibilities for how he got there. His first half-formed thought is that he got… physical with someone. Perhaps charmed, or drugged, or bewitched. A cold sweat develops on his skin at the thought. If that is why he's in a stranger's bed, having no recollection of how he got there, of what happened once he did — he will never forgive himself. Panic rises along with nausea and shame, only embellished by the prolonged silence and lack of company. Where in Hell is he? Who brought him here?

The room is massive, ornate, expensive and spotless. He cannot even begin to imagine what powerful hellspawn it must belong to. The large paintings, statuettes, pillars, rugs — he has never seen a home even remotely like this; not in Heaven nor on Earth. He feels utterly out of place.

In his hazy mind, one thought materialises before any other; — 'I have to get out of here.'

The floor teases at his bare feet with a savage chill, raising goosebumps in a familiar, yet still so new, humanly fashion. He stands with little difficulty, considers bringing the comfortable blanket with him as more of his body becomes enveloped in the cool, strange, but pleasant smelling air. He decides to leave it, his angelic courtesy not letting him take anything without permission, and common sense stopping him from taking from an unknown demon.

He wrecks his brain, yet cannot manage to scour together a single memory that could help orient himself. He remembers falling and burning, he remembers the Doctor and its mesmerising eyes, the imp guards and his failed escape, Miss Thu'lin and her —

…He is alive. How is he still alive? He was going to die. He remembers he was going to be executed. No Fallen lives this long in Hell, how come he is still breathing?

How truly far he has Fallen. From Guardian to demon food.

Numb fatigue encloses his mortal heart as he takes another look into the black iron framed silver mirror. He looks pathetic. His robe is torn and ruined, caked in dirt and his own lifeblood. His feathers and hair have turned an ugly black, forever stained by sin. His eyes are bloodshot and dark, even after his restful, dreamless sleep. His body is abused, hungering, thirsting, changing in a way it didn't used to before he Fell; before he lost his status and the little power and dignity he held. A glorified human with a pair of ruined wings stuck to him, nothing more. Even worse in fact; because humans at least know how to keep themselves alive — he does not even understand his own needs enough to do that. All he feels is claws digging into his stomach and other, harder to conceptualise wrongs flooding his mind. He understands he should not be feeling this way, but does not understand what to do about it. How could he; his job wasn't to understand basic human needs. It was to protect his human from harm mortals cannot defend against.

With a miserable look on his face, Auden turns away from the mirror, trying to focus on anything but himself. A distraction, a goal, anything at all to stop the self-hatred and yearning for a more merciful fate bubbling inside him for a moment. His misty eyes land on a double door; massive, dark walnut wood. It must lead out of here. He hears no sound coming from behind it. He hears no sound at all, in fact.

He turns to the gothic window looking out over a large forest. He sees nothing but woods. No paths, no people, no hope. A fog combs through the woods; thick enough that he barely sees anything past the first couple rows of shrub. He doesn't even find the view familiar. He sees the Sun bleeding high in the sky. It must be in the afternoon right about now.

He pads across the room, looking into drawers and closets. Nothing but sheets and clothes, some old knick-knacks like a rusty old comb, random nails and screws that must have fallen out of the furniture. The act of snooping around, even if it's a demon's house, burns his lungs fiercely, but not enough to sit still and do nothing instead. He has to find some kind of weapon, or just something useful, something interesting. Logic plays small part in his efforts — Auden simply wants to move and forget about his awful fate for a while.

He decides, after enough searching, that he will open the large double door and leave this room. He hasn't even tried it yet, it could very well be locked. No one came to look for him yet. Good, maybe he can sneak away before anyone notices. Maybe he can find his way out of here and run as far as his legs can take him. Who cares, he is basically living on borrowed time anyway. A rested mind provides him not with clear vision, but foolish bravery, while the relative safety brings forth a layer of curiosity as well.

There is some strange power in this place, he can feel it. He must have felt it before he fell asleep here, as it, too, seems familiar. A presence, an aura. He truly does not want to meet the owner of this place. It's as if the walls are breathing the same way he is, exhaling a black fog that slowly suffocates his soul. It's unnatural, difficult to make sense of.

With a spectacular lack of self-preservation or healthy cowardice — truly unlike himself — he sneaks over to the copper handles and puts one hand on the right one. With great difficulty, he convinces himself to push, and manages to turn it downwards. The door pulls open without issue, its weight intimidating as it lazily swings behind him, and suddenly Auden is standing in a never-ending hall of the hellish mansion, all on his own.

The fresh air and immediate thoughts of rebellion and misbehaviour almost have him walking right back into the room he came from, ashamed of his brash actions. An angel is meant to be perfect, docile, obedient, useful. He is being none of those things. He never was any of those things, and he never learned to be since. His shame remains all the same.

He peaks past large vases of begonia flowers to the left and right, catching sight of absolutely no one. His skin itches with unfamiliar feelings urging him to move further into disobedience and leave behind the room he woke in. A battle of whims rages in his brain, where he tries and fails to convince himself that survival is more important than holding onto memories and rules of what his life was as an angel before all this.

'Who cares. I always tried my best to be good, and this is where it got me. Taken and violated and hurt, over and over again,' — he grumbles in his head. He never used to be so resentful.

Tainted by awful, sacrilegious, impure thoughts, Auden begins his journey down the hall of red candle light and dark shadows dressing each corner. The windows are just as massive as everything else seems to be here, tinted a similar crimson. He marches into unknown darkness as his fingers wind together, flinching at every small crack of the floorboards as if it were a gunshot. Silver candelabras reveal his nervous slouch in their misshapen reflections. His exposed skin shivers in distress, making Auden wish he had brought something to cover himself up with after all.

'Where are you even going?' — questions his fractured mind in a voice unlike his own. Doubtful of his own abilities, as always.

His next inhale catches in his throat accompanied by a choked sound. Frozen mid step, he stares at the outline of a figure walking right his way. He feels all of his bravery leak out of him through the soles of his cold feet. His legs snap to jump behind something, a vase, a door, anything — but the stranger freezes along with him, locking eyes for only a moment. Then, a demon is jogging over to him, and Auden is running in the opposite direction.

"Wait, wait — !"

His foot slips on a delicate hide as he turns a corner, and he is sent to the floor. He only hears a hiss of a curse before he is grabbed onto by his pursuer, catching him after such a short chase. Though he is finally well rested, his weak body meant for flying is not nearly as proficient at ground movement as the antlered fellow skipping up to him. Some kind of an animal hybrid, with hooves at the end of their twisted legs and a red sheen on their fur. Their ears flop around as they move. They wear… rags, just like him. Torn and filthy. He sees scars on their face as they lean over him with a distressed expression.

They yell for him, startled, only encouraging him to run faster. Another lie, another trick, that is all that demons do. This one pretends to be worried, sweet, helpful. And then it will take a bite out of him the moment they get close enough. He won't stop, not for anything, flapping his useless wings to give himself just a little more momentum.

"No, g-, get away from me! Don't touch me!" — Auden screams immediately, crawling backwards clumsily with wild eyes. His back hits a wall and his voice rises in pitch. — "No! No, go away! Please —"

"Shh-shh-shh-shhhhh, shut it, shut up!" — Their hand locks around his mouth harshly, muffling his cries. He quiets slowly, recognising his loss as the seconds go by, unable to form another word with their hand clasped around his lips.

'Always so weak and pathetic, aren't you? Overpowered by just about any demon you come across.' 

The demon's whispered shouts confuse him — they don't sound nearly as confident or arrogant as he imagined the owner of this place to be. He also expected them to wear clothes similar to Miss Thu'lin; with jewellery enhancing every part of silk and satin outfits, one of a kind designs, spotless, expensive garments.

The hurtful, almost mocking thoughts come as they always do, always taking the opportunity to wear him down a little more. They have always resided in him, but since he Fell, they have become so ruthless, cruel, and uncontrollable. They sometimes barely even sound like his own thoughts anymore.

No, they don't look like the owner of anything at all.

"Would you shut up already! Fucking Hell, I won't hurt you," — they whisper, distressed, — "you're gonna get us both into shit!"

One final shove on Auden's head forces him to look into the dark eyes of the deer demon and he finally takes a moment long enough to allow him comprehension. — "Please, stop this. I'm not here to hurt you, yeah? I'm only here to help. Listen to me. You listening?"

Using the moment of relative calm caused by the snap in their voice frightening Auden, they quickly explain, — "I want to let you go, but you need to be quiet! If you can do that, I'll stop touching you right now. Okay? Can you do that? Just calm down for a minute, that's all you gotta do."

Auden's eyes hold distrust and sorrow, flicking across their face every millisecond. His breathing comes fast and irregular through his nose, and he feels like he can't really breathe with their hand over his lips, so he reaches for their wrist.

When his hand is grabbed in return, he whimpers and cries, truly lost in a way his façade of foolish bravery wasn't meant to allow as he almost begins to sob. He is tired of being touched, and dragged, and manhandled, and controlled, and hurt and hurt and hurt. He expects pain, squirming more the longer they hold him. Recognition flashes in his pursuer's eyes finally as they loosen their grip. — "Okay, wait, just listen to me for one second! I'll let you go, but — Just listen!"

Finally, uncertainty and unease aside, the angel's animalistic whimpers stop. His sniffles come slower, just enough to signal to the other he heard what they told him. Those long, rough, black nailed fingers leave his mouth tentatively one after the other, until his cracked, pink lips feel the cool air of the corridor and the menacing aura of this mansion on them once again. It's hard to tell which one of them looks more relieved as his lips are no longer sealed; Auden once he is let go, or Mori when he doesn't scream as soon as he is.

Once they are sure the angel won't start yelling again, they find their inside voice to ask once more. — "Okay. Thank you. Now, we gotta get you back to your room quickly. God knows how long we have before he returns."

Their hushed sentence barely ends before Auden is pulling away from them again, eyes wide with confused betrayal. It was a trick. Of course it was a trick. They just want to lock him up again, even using His name to lull them into some sense of familiarity. Tricks are all these creatures know how to do. — "I-I won't go with you! You can't make me —"

"What?"

"You can't, please, I'll scream, I'll yell again!"

He scrambles back up as he hugs the wall behind him, spiralling. He doesn't know what to do, but if he has learned anything during his time here, it's that he can never, ever trust anyone. Not the Doctor, not Miss Thu'lin, not any other Hell spawn he comes across.

The deer demon moves to hold him again, swiftly changing tactics and retreating as Auden opens his mouth to scream as loud as he can, — "no-no-no-no, no, please don't!"

"I am glad to see you two are getting along so well."

They back away until he finally slouches again, exhaling all the air he was going to spend on sabotaging them. A strained voice comes from them next. — "I-I'm… The only reason I want you back in your room is because I was told to keep an eye on you, okay? It was my job to make sure you don't go anywhere, and I left for just a second and now you're out here, and we're both gonna be in so much goddamn trouble if we stay."

Auden's face is a mix of belief and disbelief, wanting, yet not daring to believe them. The deer demon's ears flick and they flinch, turning around as if they heard something, but turn back to him quickly with slowly rising terror, quietly, but firmly finishing their sentence, — "I'm a slave, just like you. Please. I couldn't hurt you if I wanted to; I don't own you, I don't even own myself. They'll — He'll ruin me for this, don't you see? I-I just need to do what I'm told, that's all. Please, just do as I say for one second, and —"

Their frantic pleading ends in a yelp as they jump ten feet into the air at the sudden melody of a voice. Behind them, as if appearing out of thin air stands a familiarly beguiling man, clad in charcoal black and cutting silver. The clacking of the hybrid's hooves echo in Auden's ears as they kneel to the side with no hesitation, head bowed and hands to the floor. It looks painful to be in that position, especially when your knees bend the opposite way. Auden isn't focused on them anymore, however, but on the tall, sickly white skinned individual observing him with a gut-churningly kind smile. A smile he remembers well, now that it has returned to him just as ruthlessly as when he first saw it.

Auden realises his feelings of this man are highly polarising. His fear emerges now past his previous desperate worship and relief at being saved from certain death. Being saved from death by Death himself, with the kindest smile and gentlest hands, yet the presence of slaughter and fear filling the air wherever he goes. He is entirely overwhelmed every time he sees the man, it seems. On the flipside, the Reaper seems only too happy to see him.

In his mind, he wanders back to the sea of corpses, to the scythe of Death, to the spear in the wall, to black magic, to the magic lock and chains, to his rescue. He remembers bits and pieces of the day before, not given quite enough time to catch all those memories of the Reaper just yet; it's all too much to process. Death's face lights up significantly at his recognition, however, no longer hidden behind the grotesque skull of a mask he wore before.

His shadowy crimson eyes are piercing and sharp and intense, yet deceptively charming and intriguing. His face is gaunt, angular, a sickly hue to it that reminds Auden of deadly ill humans. Though still clothed in black, no battle armour or weapon is found, the lack of a coat revealing more intricate, void-black patterns on every inch of skin that shows. Auden's eyes are stuck to what he can only assume to be some kind of dark curse tainting the deity's skin, like the flames of hellfire have burnt their shapes into him, turning one arm a monstrous, clawed, unnatural charcoal black, the marks peeking out from the top of his dress shirt snaking around his throat. Taking a close enough look, the angel can tell that even the veins running up his neck have turned black.

"Not even a hello?” — Pristine white hair falls gently with the tilt of his head, doing nothing to cover up that ever present smirk, — “manners, angel, are truly not your strong suit," — he teases, barely even taking notice of his horror stricken errand servant shivering on the floor below. It's as if it was only the two of them present, an angel and Death, lost in each other's eyes.

In the silence that follows, the slave's voice comes out hushed and trembling, — “I, I really tried sir, I did, I-I only left for a second, I swear on my life!” — they rasp brokenly to the Reaper, not picking their head up off the floor as they grovel. Where there is no fur, their skin shimmers with a cold sweat. — “I was called, called away for only a single minute, and when I came back he was out already and, and — but we were on our way back! I was, I was just…”

“You were just doing what you were told,” — the Reaper supplies.

“Yes!” — they exclaim, a little more confidently this time, — “I really was.”

Finally, in the next moment of silence following their small voice, they are finally given the luxury of attention from their master in the form of a simple glance. They can feel it without needing to see anything at all; looked down upon like this by Death is a mortifying ordeal. One's own heart turns to icy stone, their blood freezes in their veins and their flesh tenses in an uncontrollably. There is no being, living, dead or in-between, that does not have a reaction to being near him. Silence follows him because of that, as even the woods cease their whisperings around him. Auden has felt this power acutely.

“Of course you were,” — the Reaper remarks, giving short-lived comfort to the poor fellow before crushing it under his heel with the merciless mockery he follows up with, — “you are just so good at doing exactly as you're told, aren't you, Mori?”

Auden can hear Mori’s harsh swallow from where he stands against the wall. Their ears flatten further. Their shoulders tense tighter. Their overly submissive, docile nature is a sore subject, that much is clear. The Reaper looks back to him without another word.

“As opposed to you. For a son of God, you are quite the disobedient child,” — he states. There is a fondness in his tone, almost invisible. — “I am much more used to constant prayer and perfect behaviour from your kind. I did not expect one that runs and yells as much as you. From a shivering, confused, lost little lamb to this in the span of only half a day.”

That grin and that knowing look on his face dries up Auden’s throat in a spectacular fashion every time he is confronted by it. He cannot help assuming he knows much more than he lets on with the way he talks. He does not doubt for a second that the Grim Reaper, of all people, would be knowledgeable in all things.

Still, there is only one thing he can think to say. It has bothered him since the first time he saw him, and even in such a dire situation, he cannot take his eyes off it all. When silence stretches once more and Death glares at him expecting some form of an answer out of him, his thoughts betray him as they slip clean through his lips before he could reconsider them.

“What… wh-what happened to your skin?”

Such an infinitely meek, unexpected, simple question stumps both others in front of him. Mori stops breathing entirely. The Reaper's smile slowly disappears, replaced by an emotion Auden didn't know to expect on the face of a living myth — confusion. Did he say something wrong? Of course he did, he always does. He already regrets saying anything at all. Why is the first thing that came to his mind a question about someone's appearance? He could have said anything else and it would have been fine. Self-hatred has taken root in the marrow of his fragile bones and squeezes him from the inside as he waits for the verdict — an explosion of brutality for disrespecting Death himself, no doubt.

A laugh bubbles out of the man in front of him, a truly giddy sound. He looks incredibly amused, to no small surprise from Auden, almost ecstatic. A fit of laughter develops, hiding behind a jewelled hand quick to conceal the flash of sharp fangs that Auden's eyes widen at sharply. His joy sounds genuine, pleasant. Auden is not convinced that that's a good thing.

“Angel, what are you even saying?” — his voice shakes with laughter, — “blunt, bold and nosy above all else. You really are just like him.”

Auden's face is tomato red. He would hide his face behind his hands if he wasn't so scared of letting the Reaper out of his sight for even a moment. He watches the powerful god-like being struggle to reclaim his cool, fighting giggles and running out of breath doing so. Once he finally takes hold of himself enough to continue, he takes one long breath to sigh contentedly. The smile that forms is more genuine and warm than the previously mischievous, empty one he wore. — “Heavens above, you are hilarious. What a rude little dove. I did not expect that.”

Now it's Auden’s turn to be confused. Was it really that funny? He thought it was an awful thing to ask someone, someone so powerful, someone who saved his life. Maybe that's why it was so funny. His wings ruffle in shame.

“I don't understand,” — he admits shyly. There are tears gathering in his eyes. He feels humiliated. — “I-I was just asking… I'm sorry.”

The Reaper's expression brightens again. — “Are you not joking? You are being serious?” — Auden nods, and he thinks he must be especially stupid to make such a being laugh so heartily in front of him. — “Oh, that is even better! You know, most people would greet me first, or ask why I came to see them. Maybe skip past it all and start begging in earnest. I must confess, I'm not used to being talked to like this. It is very refreshing.”

“Oh, don't cry darling. You did not mean anything by it, I know now. You just can't help but be this way.” — An ice cold hand finds its way to Auden’s cheek, comforting, yet so, so scary. A single shimmering tear escapes, and Auden sees clearly the focus it draws from the other man when his blood red eyes follow it perfectly and his pale purple lips open for his tongue to wet them. The light hold he has on Auden tenses just slightly, just enough for Auden to notice, but it's quickly withdrawn when they lock eyes again and the Reaper breaks from the spell that came over him. He notices the angel's concern, of course, and backs off of him entirely to explain; —

Auden's stomach drops. Meeting his new owner? He thought… he doesn't even know what he thought. Is that why he is here? 

“Ah, you must excuse me. I haven't eaten anything yet today, and you are just the sweetest delicacy one could ever thirst for. Being so close is simply… maddening.” — The instantaneous jolt of speed in Auden's heart and the massive, horrified eyes staring up at him nearly hypnotise the Reaper. He wants nothing more than to clutch a clawed hand around the angel's throat and squeeze, hard enough to draw blood and break bone.

He hides his bloodlust behind a practised grin skillfully, looking at Mori’s small form instead. Perhaps his little fawn can make up for their shortcomings in a different way today. They can be a nice enough distraction after sufficient preparation. As he listens to Mori’s frantic breathing, he reassures Auden. — “But I won't touch you. Not yet. You are in perfect condition. I'd sooner tear my own head off than to ruin you right before meeting your new owner.”

‘Well, why else would you be here? To have a little tea party with the Grim Reaper? Did you expect for him to have gone through a horde of vicious demons and rescued you from the Dragon Queen only to whisk you away right back to your Heaven? To belong to him instead?’

His head reverberates with these blasphemous, pathetic thoughts running through it. They come so fast and so alien; truly like they aren't his thoughts at all. A headache forms suddenly, sharp like an arrow going through him. This isn't the first time this has happened, he realises, yet he is no closer to figuring out why it's happening. It catches the Reaper's attention when Auden lifts one cool hand to hold against his left eye to soothe the sting. His expression hardens just a little, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The smile never falters — Auden starts to understand all depictions of Death with a human skull for a face, forever grinning.

“Perhaps some food would do you good as well. Have you eaten anything at all since you Fell? You look half dead."

Oh, oh, is that what he feels? Hunger? It must be the endless agonising emptiness that built a nest in his abdomen a few days ago. The offer has his mouth watering in preparation just from the thought of satiation, and his headache, along with the strange thoughts, is all but forgotten.

“Can, c-can I have food? Is it… how do I get food?” — comes the barely audible plea from the angel. His black locks shiver like his unsteady hands, forever fidgeting and pulled close to his chest. He wonders if that is normal for mortals; the constant shaking, or if it, too, is from the abuse. He never used to hide and cower quite like this before.

Death’s expression brightens, sending a strange, almost pleasant tingle down the angel's spine. He turns to Auden and beams. — “Tell you what. I will bring you something delicious if you go and retreat to your room. I believe you were already on your way back.” — Mori gasps with a whimper, their fingers forming a fist when they feel their owner’s leather boot touch the side of their hand. At that, the boot simply lifts, moves to the side to trap their hand under its sole, and pushes down until the fist is back in its original open, vulnerable position, resting between the cold floor and the shoe. Mori doesn't flinch away again. The Reaper grins, putting just a tad more weight onto their scarred digits, enough to hurt, and then twists, — “isn’t that right?”

With a whisper of a groan, the deer servant nods, — “y-yeah, yes, sir, we were, we were —”

“Splendid,” — cuts in the Reaper's voice, — “on your way then, angel.”

Auden’s expression shows bewilderment and unease as he watches Mori’s hand being slowly crushed under an almost nonchalant boot. The Reaper’s order was clearly aimed at him, yet his eyes remain on the trembling form of the creature he torments. A horrible chill envelops his soul at the sudden reminder of Death's casual proficiency in doling out pain, frozen as he simply stares, his eyes following the deer thing’s other hand shakily lift and hold onto the wrist connecting them to the source of their misery. They begin to lose the kneeling position they had learned to perfection, curling up on their side as they jerk and whine, their breathing becoming much too loud and strained. Auden presses himself against the wall that much harder.

“Angelll…” 

The deity's haunting voice flows like magma and fills up his brain with black smoke. He does not even notice his own panic rising swiftly, finally led back to the present by Death's pleasant, chilling humming. He manages to tear his misty eyes away from Mori's hand, only to heave in a large breath and turn the other way, purple-blue irises hidden behind screwed shut lids. He swallows as if he is trying to keep his lungs inside his chest.

“Your eyes are fogging over again, dear,” — the Reaper tuts with a sympathetic smile on his face, referring to Auden's blind fear and cowering almost like it's some form of condition and not a very reasonable response to seeing such awful things all the time, — “Best get going now, don't you think? Your friend will be on their way momentarily,“ — he reassures him, glancing down at the whining mess under his foot, — ”I promise. You needn't worry about them.”

The first crack of tiny bones in the index finger of ‘his friend’ is followed by a broken yell, quickly dying down into a sob. Jerking to attention, Auden looks to the Grim Reaper. He witnesses his smile turning into a grin, stretching wider. He sees his eyes glow with malice, entirely fixated on the servant who always does as they are told and tries their best being made to weep and hurt. He listens to the bone-chilling, soul-withering, joy-filled, near breathless chuckle that bubbles out of him, an almost warm sound. He feels the air change, the presence of the Reaper reaching every corner of the corridor, slicing into the skin of anyone close enough to feel his power tainted by perverted bloodlust.

Auden understands now why he was told to leave. Clearly, the Reaper craves, and when he does, no one is safe from his whims. If Auden were to stay, he would be witness to yet more agony, and he would surely have to join in sooner or later; to be another body to toy with, another soul to suffocate in unending terror. An endless circle of keeping the creature who was made to maim entertained and docile. Surely, he would not be hurt? He was told just now that he will be given away; how he is in perfect condition and that the Reaper does not wish to ‘ruin’ him. Yet.

Still, as horrifying as it is to witness and endure, it goes against his very nature to leave someone to suffer like this. What sort of Guardian has the conviction and audacity to knowingly turn their back on someone in pain and live their life as if they hadn't seen a thing? The very thought of it immerses his self-conscious in guilt, and though he hears the voices screaming at him to leave, run, never turn back — he cannot obey. The magic in the air only serves to bring him to his knees in mindless paranoia and groaning lungs, the invisible force not quite managing to send him running. His expression hardens, a fierce concentration present on his face as he turns to the Reaper once again, his voice coming strained, quiet, desperate, but filled with purpose and bravery; —

Another crack comes soon after, and another wave of lust crashes into Auden’s very soul. It is incredible, in a way, just how powerful the Reaper is. His very emotions are capable of altering the atmosphere to such an extent, the angel can only endure the raw, unnatural, mortifying ordeal of being made to feel such uncontrollable, near artificial terror. His body is responding in a physical manner to just being in the same room as him — goosebumps, tender muscles, shivering, weakness, sweating, dizziness, nausea. The feeling of Death's tendrils caressing his very throat though there is nothing there, whispers in his ears, phantom touches along his skin, the feeling of being not only watched, but observed and scrutinised in every possible way. It is almost like an entire other creature, his power — a shadow that follows him around like a loyal hunting dog, jumping to action at the slightest provocation, locking its jaws around the throat of anyone at all who dares to even look upon it. He felt it when he awoke, the ever present pressure upon his skin he knew to be the controlling presence of a powerful being, but to feel it so close and intense was truly overwhelming. He has no doubt that this man could bring an entire nation to their very knees just by showing up in a particular mood.

“Please, have mercy on them, Mister Reaper.” — He avoids looking at the poor soul in front of him, only focusing on the intensity emanating from the man. Another bone cracks and Mori's wail overshadows Auden's pleading, — “Mister Reaper, sir, please, pl-please listen to me. I beg, just stop h-hurting them! Mister Reaper!”

His half sob, half yell finally catches the other's attention. There is nothing scarier than to demand of a deity to stop doing as they wish. Auden feels a somewhat familiar sense of inadequacy and powerlessness as he always did talking to Archangels. Though the Grim Reaper is an independent creature that barely acts like a divine being, he is still on a similar level to his Lord — and so, talking to him in such a demanding, disrespectful, crude way makes him want to shrivel up and turn to dust on the spot all the same. Auden reckons he would feel the exact same way speaking to his God or the Devil himself.

‘It is as if they are not so dissimilar in nature.’

“Do you wish to take their place, little dove?” — he questions Auden. The Reaper does not sound amused any longer, but neither does he sound truly furious. His tone resides somewhen between the two, daring Auden to continue bothering him. He is no longer smiling, and that sends an icicle of fear through Auden's heart. His lips do not work right, his tongue grows heavy and useless in his mouth — that consuming, cutting sanguine glare silences him indefinitely. Mori's fear only grows, now forcing wheezing begging out of them. However, they do not beg for mercy from their tormentor — they beg Auden to shut up instead. Finally, with great hesitation, he shakes his head, his black locks bouncing along.

“You do not? Fascinating.” — He steps off that inflamed, shattered hand, but it's as if it brought no relief whatsoever to the servant. They hug their useless fingers to their chest and cry, but do not move otherwise. No tension leaves them. They expect more pain to come their way. Auden, however, begins to deeply regret catching Death's attention. His presence only becomes more suffocating, so much more than he imagined possible, and he looks at him in a way that feels downright lethal. — “You mistake my cordial nature for safety, angel. You also must think my patience is infinite.”

He corners him again, leering down on him from above as he cowers pitifully on the floor behind his useless wings. Auden’s breaths barely manage to make it past his lips. Shame builds once again inside him, flooding him like a river of mud at the Reaper's words. So he has noticed; how could he not. He knows well just how badly Auden hopes to find repose from all his misfortune in someone like him. Someone powerful, fearsome, kind, gentle, merciful, divine. A replacement for what he has lost; a new being to lift above everyone else and worship, so in turn he may deserve to live a more pleasant life. It's a wretched thing, this obsession Auden develops. It would be less so if at least it didn't happen with even the most dangerous, unholy beings he comes across down here. It's second nature for an angel to be submissive to higher ranking beings in their Heaven; but why is it that he just cannot muster up the decency to act like a good angel would?

‘A pathetic winged fraud, that is all you have ever been. Even before your Fall, you just couldn’t stop disappointing everyone around you. And now, you are even disappointing Death himself, despite his merciful nature.’

“I-I am so sorry, I'm sorry.” — He has done it now. Pissed off the only person who took mercy on him. His string of apologies break down into sobs, muffled by his hands. The longer the silence stretches, the more he believes his death is approaching.

“Angel.”

He expects to be torn apart like all those demons he watched be slaughtered helplessly. He expects roaring, agonising magic slamming into his flesh, corroding it away from his bones. He expects unending misery. What he feels is a cold hand taking hold of his face. Claws dig into his cheeks like teeth.

“Look at me.”

Charm pulls his hands away from his face, forcing him to make eye contact once again. He can barely see through his tears, the Reaper's face a mess of smudged colours. However, judgement doesn't come. On the contrary — what Death gives is an invitation.

“Go to your room.”

Another chance. Another chance. Always another chance, because he never manages to do anything right the first time.

In his shock at being offered one last opportunity to do as he is told and avoid certain horrific consequences, his mouth hangs agape. Blinking away some tears, Auden can tell Death still isn't smiling. His expression shows a careful balance of danger and neutrality. It is hard to read exactly, but it's certainly not a mischievous, giddy expression — it is serious. He cannot squander this opportunity again. If he fails to do as he is told, as he is directly and clearly ordered, he will not get another one.

He tries to nod, finding out quickly that struggling under the clutches of Death is nigh impossible. He can only force a squeak of a response out of his poor throat drowning in the fog of magic; — “Y-Y-Yes, sir, I'm sorry. Pl-Please, forgive me.”

A good few seconds pass, the Reaper's sharp eyes observing his expression in silence. Finally, mercifully, he hums a deep sound, letting go of his face and straightening back up again. He steps back to allow the angel to clamber to his feet, which he does, giving quite a pitiful show for someone who hasn't been hurt at all, knees buckling and hands slipping off of any support they may find. Despite his preconceived notions about the deer hybrid lying on the floor in front of him, as he glances at them now, the slave looks much more similar to a newborn fawn than any other ‘demon’ he may meet down here.

Once he manages to stay on his feet, he only spares brief glances towards the others, not daring to look in any way besides terribly apologetic and pitiful, lest the Reaper think he deserves a lesson in humility after all. With raspy gasps of rigidity, he slides off of the wall he was holding onto all this time and hurries past the two of them, hoping he still remembers where he came from. The last mistake he ever makes would be missing the door that leads to his room and getting lost after this whole ordeal.

He can feel Death watching him intently as he shuffles away shamefully, an indescribable yet unmistakable feeling.

He hears desperate yells and pleading as he turns a corner. He flinches at another ear-splitting, hopeless wail cracking from agony louder than any before it as he fights the urge to look behind him. It's not his fault. It's not his fault. It is not his fault.

‘What a pathetic excuse for a Guardian Angel.’

He does not disagree.

~

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Taglist: @whumpsday @whump-me-all-night-long

[swimminginyokohamasrivers]

What if i said. Im tired of being a fuck up. :3

[blu3b1rdsss]

🕯️ :3

'I feel awful for being so powerless in this situation. I want to help, I can see Sprite suffering. I wish I could do more but I don't want to accidentally shove him away. He's so smart and cleaver, why doesn't it see that this is hurting him? Why do I even care? I don't know him that well! Ugh. I hate seeing it like this. maybe if I didn't take that stupid job I would have been able to actually do something.'

[tap3tum-lucidum]