#[ a dwarf in a flask ] -- (anon ask)

[envioussin]

Anonymous asked:

I remembered I saw a post once about dogvy's height where someone used a screenshot with Roy and Envy at the underground lab's gate I think. And used Roy to measure how tall Envy's true form was and they are about three and half Roy Mustangs tall. Hope this helps :)

petition to make “roy mustang” an official unit of measurement lol.

okay, so goog/le says roy is 173 cm tall, so three and one half roy mustangs would make dogvy 432.5 cm, or 14.2 feet....

well, i was close-ish with with my original headcanon of 17 feet then, but we’ll round it up to 15 feet (457.2 cm), cause let’s give something to envy. 

turns out katie really has no perspective of how tall 1 foot is, but we already knew that. thank you for the help anon!!!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

I'm sick as a dog and feel absolutely miserable. Can I ask your opinion on how filli would help me feel better? I have a terrible stomach virus. The bathroom has been my best friend.

I hope your doing well.

Dearest anon,

I am very sorry to hear that you are sick. I am not exactly good with HCs, so I hope it is okay that I wrote a small ficlet for you...

Keeping watch

Words: 1,1 k

Warning: Sickness

You were feeling miserable, as if your whole body was but a dried-up husk made of pain and shivers, and the last thing you wanted was for Fíli to see you like this.

“I have consulted Óin,” the self-same dwarf declared as he burst through the door, kicking off his heavy boots almost instantly so as to not exacerbate your headache, “he did not at all agree with your assessment.”

Of course he hadn’t, you thought, everything you had said this far had mainly been self-pity rather than sound medical advice, but you’d rather have swallowed your tongue than to admit as much to Fí.

“What is this?” you asked, curious despite the weakness that pervaded every fibre of your being as you saw the tray he had set down on the low table by the door.

“Never you worry,” Fíli smiled tenderly, sitting down on the edge of your bed, and breathing a gentle kiss upon your slightly clammy brow.

“Fí,” you whinged, because if you could not be just the tiniest bit whiny when sick, then there would never be a moment to behave with but a shadow of self-indulgence.

“Here,” he handed you a deep, warm mug, “Dori made this tea especially for you.”

“But I…” you started; before you could even finish your sentence, Fíli had produced another flask, full to the brim with fresh, cool water flavoured with aromatic herbs.

“You’ll have to drink both,” he informed you, “to stay hydrated. If you crave cold beverages right now, drink this first and let the tea cool down. If you change your mind at any point, you tell me, and I’ll go get new tea.”

Tears sprang to your eyes as you understood just how well organised he was when it came to your treatment. He really had considered everything; he had consulted a healer and asked his friends to help him put together the ideal care package for you.

Just in that moment, your stomach decided to act up again and you pushed past him on your way to the lavatories, taking the flask with cool water with you in your headlong flight.

Shame burned hot and heavy in your heart and in your face; Fíli had gone through so much trouble, and you had just left him sitting there.

Torn between being afraid that he’d take your sudden disappearance as a rejection of his efforts and your inability to explain the truth without risking divulging too much private – and potentially distressing – information, you just sat and suffered in silence, trying to keep any disgraceful sounds to yourself.

“Drink the water,” you heard his voice, gentle and warm, through the door, “the herbs are medicinal and should help with the cramps.”

The strangled sound of surprise, that was half an exhortation to let you die in peace and half a plea not to leave you alone in your agony, died on your lips as he asked you if you wanted to hear about Durin the Deathless or the latest gossip about his brother.

“Ori thought that this book would be particularly interesting,” Fí explained with a chuckle, “apparently, he’s read it cover to cover when he was ill. Ori really needs a wife!”

“I’ll take mischief and mayhem caused and suffered by Kí,” you panted as a new wave of violent twinges set your insides ablaze and a small groan slipped through your iron control of self-consciousness and good breeding.

The water tasted heavenly, cool and fragrant, and – after having gulped down a few mouthfuls eagerly – you felt your tortured stomach relax, the churning cramps smoothing out into manageable waves within minutes.

All the while, Fí regaled you with embarrassing stories about his brother and other common friends; he spoke loud enough for you to know that he was not paying close attention to what was happening inside the locked room, but also clear enough to make you feel that you were not alone.

When you finally unlocked the door again, you found him sitting a few paces from the door, scratching his beard, and grinning up at you.

“Óin says,” he beamed proudly, “that you’ll have to eat something! There’s chicken broth for you, it’s rather lukewarm now but I can go heat it up?”

For some reason, lukewarm broth sounded heavenly and exactly right to you in this moment; the idea of swallowing something hot or spicy made your belly kink again, but the fragrant, mild warmth of a broth made your mouth water in eagerness.

“I’d be delighted to have it,” you admitted and flinched when – despite knowing just how ill you were – Fíli crawled into bed before you, extending his strong arms to you.

“You’ve been taking in too many cold liquids,” he mused, “let me keep you warm while you eat your soup.”

And so, you rested against his broad chest, cradled in his arms while the soothing effect of the – still warm against all odds – broth ran down your parched throat.

“You should rest now,” Fíli whispered, caressing your hair and pressing his lips just a smidgen too long against your brow, letting you know that he was monitoring your temperature.

“Will you stay?” you asked, already drowsy from the exertion of the day and the calming effect of having been able to keep down food.

“Always, my love,” he promised, “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Pulling up the blankets around you, he slid deeper into the mattress without ever letting go of your shivering body; every part of his meticulous strategy had worked this far, and this last part of his careful plan seemed to be well underway as well.

With a proud smirk, he allowed himself to let his own eyes close, reassured by your solid warmth in his arms and the increasing heaviness of your body leaning against his that told him that – finally – blissful rest had washed away your pain for the moment.

“Always right here,” he whispered again, remembering the nights of blind panic when he had held his baby brother thus, begging him to live.

“You’ll be just fine, right as rain,” he babbled on into the silence; as you were asleep, he could let go of the pressure and the fear that had gripped his heart mercilessly all through your sudden illness, “I promise.”

It would be okay, Fíli told himself, you would mend; he had done everything right and that had to be enough for he could not imagine – not even for one single second – losing you to something as anti-climactic as sickness, not when there were so many things you still had to experience, enjoy, and overcome together.

You whimpered in your sleep, and he hugged you closer to his heart, vowing to keep you safe until you could fight off this invisible enemy yourself; until that moment though, he’d keep watch over you – body and mind – through the night.

Dear anon, please take Fí's advice seriously:

Stay hydrated

Rest as much as you can

Try to eat something nourishing but simple

Hydrate again!!!

I wish you all the best (I am well by the way, thank you for asking) and I hope you'll be on the mend very soon.

Lots of love from me <3

@all the other anons...I have received your requests and might keep them for the later stages of the fotfics-marchmadness (or not) remains to be seen...

I love you all, take care of yourselves 💕

[maddiicake]

Can I just take a moment to talk about FMA03?

Because I honestly don’t think I have talked about it enough as is. So, allow me to make this little post to just throw all my thoughts out at once. I’ve already been excommunicated years ago, so I really have nothing to lose. Plus, I don’t really have anyone to talk about Fullmetal Alchemist with (much less any other shared interests) nor have for years. So, all I can do is just make my own posts. I more than welcome threads added to this post for conversation! That’s what /public/ posts are for, after all ^u^

I will go on the record of saying that I like both FMA03 as well as Brotherhood, and agree that one series did better at one thing than the other, but that doesn’t make that one all-around better than the other. They have their own unique flair to them which makes them both enjoyable in their own way.

Now, I’m not going to make some a antisemetic comment and call Brotherhood fans “BroHood Nazis”, and then proceed to get away with it, meanwhile someone calling me out on my BS by making fun of me in an art piece they’ll make will receive the flood of Tumblr and be called the antisemetic one while I get away scot-free, while being “happy” that that user is told to off themselves. No. I rarely use Tumblr for that reason—the laughable ignorance of of the “Populars” and the alt-left.

Nor, through this tangent will I pull the “White Supremacy Card”, because FMA is an /anime/ made by an /Asian/ person. (If someone can please explain how a non-white person supports or promote “white-supremacy”, I’d really appreciate it. It just irks me when the alt-left pull that card. But, alas, this is Tumblr, so those people are abundant here...)

But, I digress... On to talking about the lovely world of FMA 03:

Where to begin, that’s the real question... I wouldn’t want this post to get far too long, so I’ll just talk about one subject at a time. (And, if you’d like for me to talk about any other aspect of FMA03 that you’d like for me to give my thoughts on, feel free to send me an Ask! Note: As of right now, Anon is turned off, so I apologize to those who would rather keep their anonymity—except for those select few who I know use the anon for provoking reasons; not sorry for you all whatsoever).

Anyway, FMAB was the regular run-of-the-mill Shounen genre anime that followed the plot that Arakawa (a non-white person), the author of the manga, had set up for this fantasy world she envisioned. At the time of the manga’s beginning, the story grew in popularity and an animation studio was quick to pick it up. This is the anime that would be later known as FMA03 (because it was the Fullmetal Alchemist series that debuted in 2003). Now, this was a common mistake that BONES Studio made with many of the anime adaptions of manga that it made—creating the anime long before the mangaka could get though the first half of the story’s plot. Even so, the studio took the information that they had, and, even with Arakawa’s help with some aspects, they created the separate universe of Fullmetal Alchemist from the author’s original universe. And, beleive it or not... Arakawa actually really liked 2003’s adaptation, even if it wasn’t her final vision. If that isn’t “being a Good Sport”, then I don’t know what is.

Let’s break down the key points that made FMA03 unique:

First off, the relationship between Ed and Al was much deeper and more dramatic. It was their story. From start to finish about their beginnings, their goal, which persisted throughout the series. And it even persists all the way to FMA: Conqueror of Shamballa. Al was all that Ed had left, and those two have been close ever sense.

Secondly, the homunculi... just -chef kiss- This is what I love the most for FMA03. I’m a HUGE sucker for the “Sympathetic Villain” trope (when it’s done properly, of course). And, FMA03 did it more than “just properly”. They added an entire aspect of the homunculi and deepened their backstory as well as the basis for their entire creation. While being scientifically considered “artificial humans”, they showed that they were just as human as the actual human characters. So, to say that I was in love with FMA03’s portrayal of the homunculi would be an understatement.

Thirdly, Main villain: Dante vs Father. I honestly can’t say which one I prefer more, because, they both bring their own unique character that furthered and deepens the plot of their respective series. Both had ties to Hohenheim (Father being the Dwarf in the Flask, and Dante being the Ex-wife), both were “the boss” of the homunculi, and both had believable well established modus operandi. While, I believe that, Dante could have been just as great of a villain as Father, her arc was rushed, and, therefore, she wasn’t as developed as Father. Of course, that’s mainly because of the Studio’s budget (which happens with many series, so it can’t be helped or fault the Studio because of it).

I could go on all day about other points, but this post would get way too long. Like I mentioned at the beginning of this post, though, I’m more than happy to have a conversation—this is a /public/ post, after all. My ask box is always open too. Anon is off right now for the reasons stated above, just a fair warning.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading the ramblings of the echoes within these crumbling walls within the ruins~! ^u^

[tomakeitbeautifultolive]

do you have a preview of the dany meeting young jon fic?

Sure thing, anon! And since I seldom get asks of this nature, I’ll throw in the moodboard, too (nope - too saucy for Tumblr, apparently). (I’m about 5k deep now and hope to have it finished asap)

Jon scowled. “What the hell do you know about being a bastard?”

“All dwarfs are bastards in their father’s eyes.”

Tyrion raised the flask to his lips as he turned and walked away.

Perturbed by the exchange, Jon bent to retrieve his sword. Dany watched as he squared his shoulders, each exhale forming its own frail white cloud. With a heavy swing, the blade came crashing down on the dummy with all-new ferocity.

Daenerys emerged slowly from the shadows, taking care to keep her footfalls silent so as not to startle him. Her hands shook at her sides, heart thudding as hard as each dull thwack made against the defenseless dummy.

The queen broke into a cold sweat. She had faced horrors beyond all imagination. Yet here she was—petrified to face this young boy.

Jon’s movements came to a sudden halt, his head angling toward where she’d stood, perhaps sensing her presence.

Her words caught in her throat as he finally turned.

With a slight furrow on his brow, he met her eyes.

She said nothing.

He said nothing.

Yet there was an intensity to his stare—one that startled her in turn, making her mouth go dry. Daenerys swallowed to wet her tongue, hoping it might urge her to speak.

“May I be of help, my lady?”

His voice was shy, barely above a whisper. It struck her only then—he might just be as nervous as she, standing alone in a dark courtyard across from a strange and dumbstruck woman.

“I could show you to the Great Hall, if it please you?”

She knew exactly where it was, if that’s where she had cared to go. And supposing she hadn’t known—the cacophony of festive strings and raucous laughter would surely point the way. And yet, sweetly, he offered his help all the same.

“I’ve never been one for big feasts.”

“How come?”

“Well,” she scraped her mind for the best way to explain it. “Have you ever felt alone in a crowded room?”

“All the time,” he admitted.

“I had a feeling you might.”

When she smiled at him, Jon turned timid and looked away.

“Seeing as we both feel alone, we might as well be lonely together,” she suggested. “What do you say?”

The invitation drew his eyes back to hers.

“What did you have in mind, my lady?”

“Well,” she considered. “You could start by calling me Dany.”

“Dany,” he repeated. “That’s pretty.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jon,” he answered confidently. “Jon Snow.”

“A strong name,” Dany commented. “It suits you.”

Much more than your given name.

So unaccustomed to receiving compliments, Jon pressed his lips together—though if it was to smother a glower or perhaps a smile, she couldn’t quite tell.

“A bastard’s name,” he said after a moment.

The queen wondered then if ever a day had gone by that he was allowed to forget the stain on his name. Somehow, she thought not.

“There’s no shame in bastardy, Jon,” she softly said. “A child should never be punished for his father’s sins.”

The smile that her words had wriggled from him was not a happy one. “Mind telling that to the rest of the world?”

“I’m still working on that,” she admitted.

Jon gripped the sword at his side, slipping straight into his melancholy.

“Might I ask your age?”

He didn’t look at her when he answered. “Sixteen.”

“Well, you know what they say about bastards…”

“I do, in fact,” he snapped. “Whatever it is, I’ve heard it all.”

“Bastards grow up a great deal faster than other children.”

His gaze whipped straight to hers, then.

“In many ways, I suspect a bastard of sixteen is more insightful than even a lord of twenty-six.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “How’s that?”

“The true character of a man is revealed in the way he treats those from which he gains nothing,” she explained. “And in that way, you may know even the king better than his most loyal subjects.”

His lips twisted into an irritable smirk as he took a few steps closer, close enough that she could smell the rich leather of his doublet.

“May I speak frankly?” His voice was soft and smooth, without yet a trace of its usual grit. His closeness made her shiver.

She nodded. “Always.”

“I mean no offense, my lady,” he began. “I appreciate your kindness, but in my experience, it always comes at a cost. One that I am in no position to pay.”

Jon gave one last nod before turning from her. He drove his sword straight through its rack before walking away without another glance.

[envioussin]

Anonymous asked:

They're a 10, but their critical thinking skill? Zero to none. Never puts in the work to get what they want out of life and cries about how unfair life is 'cause the world doesn't revolve around Envy. And don't get me started on the daddy issues, the only reason Kimblee bothers keeping you around is the entertainment your destructive abilities provide. Roy can't stand being in the same room with you, let alone even look at the monster who killed his best friend. Sounds alot how father sees you.

THEY’RE A 10, BUT — accepting

It hurt. Why did it hurt so much?

When words rolled off their shoulders like water so many times before, when they scoffed at some puny human’s attempt to insult them...where was that now?

It’s not like they don’t try. Every second of Envy’s existence was a trial, always under the scrutiny of Father and their siblings, a forever uphill climb. But, somewhere along the way, the gradual hill became a cliffside, looming over Envy as if it were one of the Briggs mountains themselves. Their claws are ripped from their hands, all strength and agility sapped away, left in their most pathetic form and told “climb”. 

Envy does think, despite what most believe. They scheme and plan, and always follow orders, acting in whatever way deemed fit. The poor thing can’t help giving in to emotions, though. They are jealousy incarnate, a discarded feeling, so of course they yield to such. Try and try again, they always failed. Mistake after mistake.

Like you.

No, that isn’t true. It can’t be true. Right?

But just look at who they are, WHAT they are...who would intentionally create a monstrosity like Envy? So ugly, envy. It’s no surprise they were discarded so easily.

How can this human sit here and accuse them like this? How, when no one could possibly comprehend the raging torrent of suffering that lurked at Envy’s core. A normal mind would break, snap right in half like a twig. But not Envy. They are strong. They must be, or how else could they continue to exist, day after day, when forever in pure agony.

No, the world doesn’t revolve around them. It revolves around Father. And Envy knows that, has always accepted it. They have never been the main character of their own story.

So why does it hurt?

But they can make it through this. This is all things they’ve heard before, hell, even told themself. Brush it off. Stand back up. Prove your strength, your right to live. Make Father proud.

However, the simple mention of two names drives the final nail into place. Tears well in pink eyes, threatening to spill over. Can a Homunculus even cry?

Of course Kimblee doesn’t love you. From the beginning, you’ve known this. Kimblee loves one thing, and one thing alone, and it isn’t Envy. How wretched, little Envy watching over Kimblee as he orchestrates destruction in Ishval, like an angel of death. How fast they fell, upon witnessing all Kimblee could achieve. They had wanted nothing more than to be his muse, his confidant, his everything. But he would never see them that way. No, Envy was nothing more than the stone at their core. That’s what Kimblee really wanted.

And Roy....how utterly pathetic you are, dear Envy. The very second you get a taste of humanity, a drop of emotions other than your namesake, you give in and crave the enemy, the one you could never have. You thought Kimblee could love a monster, but Mustang? Never.

They had not only murdered his best friend, but then bragged about it! No remorse was shown then, so why do you feel it now? Stop pretending. He will never forgive you, and never love you. No, you will be forced to watch him prosper with another, leaving behind the insignificant worm he had burned to death in those tunnels.

Because that’s what you should be: DEAD.

Why should Envy get a second chance at life? Envy, the sin, the murderer, the vile, the corrupted, the UGLY. How cruel, that the universe chose this worm to return, and not a good person everyone missed, one who was actually wanted.

Tears fell in full force, as Envy experienced heartbreak, unadulterated by their jealousy for the first time. Behind the pain was an emptiness, vast and fast consuming, almost like a void. Jump in, it urges. 

And oh, how Envy wants to. Please, have pity on them. Let them rip their heart out again, succumb to the pressure that builds and builds and builds. Let it end. Free them from this prison of their own making.

Yet they remain. For Envy is a selfish creature, as they always have been. Despite wanting nothing more than to end it all, they remain, clinging to this second chance at life they will never deserve. Because Envy will always want what they cannot have.

Curled in on themself, the sin sobs, unending tears dripping onto the floor. But no matter how much they cry or scream, no one is coming. Not Kimblee. Not Roy. And not Father.

They hear his voice in their mind, echoing in their skull, a lesson carved into their very soul.

“No one will ever love you.”

[envioussin]

Anonymous asked:

envy you smell like doodoo

DESTROY THEM -- Accepting

“Oh no, how will I ever survive?” They scoff, pink eyes rolling theatrically. Envy had the unfortunate pleasure of inhaling some rather interesting and unique smells in their long lifetime, but never had their own scent been described as repulsive. Hell, they most certainly smelled much better than Gluttony, that’s for sure. Oh well, moving on.

[envioussin]

Anonymous asked:

What number would Envy be in the stranger things au?

Honestly, I don’t think Envy would be a number at all. I’d say Hohenheim would have been a number, and then Father is somehow created using Hohenheim’s blood and the powers of the upsidedown, and then later Father would create the Homunculi. Thus making Envy a pure product of the upsidedown. I feel it makes the most sense that way, given Envy’s true form, which just screams horror / sci-fi monster. Plus, their connection to the upsidedown could be what makes them almost immortal. You can kill them (and the other Homunculi) as much as you want in the real world, but they’ll always come back, unless you destroy their core deep in the upsidedown. 

Envy would most likely be a sort of Vecna-like pawn for Father, changing their form to manipulate the residents of Hawkins and bend them to Father’s will. They wouldn’t be able to read minds, per-say, but they’d keep all of their shapeshifting capabilities that their possess in their original canon. 

All of the Homunculi would give off strange auras, but Envy would be the one to most easily assimilate into human life. They would still weight a ton, and if forced to by El (or another number) they’d revert to their true form (dogvy), and then right before “death” they’d become wormvy. 

But I can maybe see Envy pretending to be a number to get close to El. Not sure what number they would choose, because it’d be an issue if Envy planted themself falsely into El’s past, and then she truly remembered everything. 

Also, Envy would still secretly, deeply wish they were human. And Envy would want to play DnD. 

[envioussin]

Anonymous asked:

They’re a 10, but they should've dressed sluttier. Go big or go home, Envy.

THEY’RE A 10, BUT — accepting

“Wrong sin you got there. Besides, this outfit is cute. That was kinda the whole point.”

[envioussin]

Anonymous asked:

they’re a 10 but they werm

THEY’RE A 10, BUT — accepting

Werm deserves kisses too. It’s not like they can help it. Hold the werm close, let them fall asleep wrapped in the warmth of another’s body. 

Would you still love them if they were werm ???

[envioussin]

Anonymous asked:

They’re ’s a 10, but they need to think before they speak.

THEY’RE A 10, BUT --- accepting 

The sin is left speechless, too stunned at the pure AUDASITY to snark back. They didn’t over-run their mouth....that much. Fuck.

“Ugh, point taken.” They’d kill the poor human later. Now was time to sulk. 

[envioussin]

“what---?! no! don’t you dare---” A finger touches them on their small green head, just between their eyes, gentle yet still unwelcome. They wiggle around afterwards, shaking their head ferociously, as if to somehow cleanse themself of the touch, kind of like a dog shaking itself to dry off. “stupid humans!”

[envioussin]

Anonymous asked:

destroy the muse: What makes you think he'll even look your way? After everything you've done, there's no way in hell forgiveness is on the table, much less anything else.

DESTROY THEM – Accepting

How, how did THIS hurt the most?! Why was this the knife in the back, and not anything before?

Because you knew everything said before. You knew who you are, what you are, but this.....this you D A R E D to hope, to dream of.

You believed your own bogus lie. That somehow, some way, he’d see you as the victim to wish to be, that this was somehow not your fault. 

You really thought he’d forgive you?? After you SLAUGHTERED his best friend in cold blood?? And then had the shear nerve to gloat about it to his face??

And what’s worse, you somehow thought he’d grow to L O V E you ??????

You horrible, disgusting, absolutely pathetic creature.....

It doesn’t matter if you’re sorry. It doesn’t matter that you hate yourself. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been abused.

YOU WILL NEVER BE LOVED.

AND HE WILL A L W A Y S LOOK AT YOU WITH DISTAIN.

“.....please.....I’m sorry........I’m sorry........”

The tears fall in full force now, but Envy doesn’t notice. All Envy feels is gaping emptiness, no emotions remain anymore. Only one resounding, ultimate truth.

KILL YOURSELF.

[envioussin]

Anonymous asked:

You say humans are beneath you but that's not true. Isn't that just a lie? Isn't that what you do best? Lie?

You don't even wear your own face. So who'd you steal that one from? You can't even show people who you really are. You just slip in and out of places to blame in with something you'll never be.

You say humans are beneath you but constantly pretend to be them. Constantly imitating what you long for bit because you'll never have it, you get angry and cover up your jealousy with arrogance.

You're not even your own person. You're just a discarded sin from that old man. Not even your father wanted you.

DESTROY THEM – Accepting

When will it stop??

The pure agony of mere existence, the utter loathing of every part of themself, when would it cede? The thoughts that plagued them since birth, when would they cease their constant and unyielding barrage? How much longer until enough was enough?!

Tears threaten to spill, and the sin falls to their knees, the truth too heavy a burden to carry any longer.

Help. Someone....please help. 

They’re drowning, pulled farther and deeper into the abyss.

When will it stop??

[envioussin]

Anonymous asked:

How does it feel to know that nothing could ever love you, Envy? Not even your own family?

DESTROY THEM – Accepting

Envy wants to argue, to beat them senseless until they admit they’re wrong. That can’t be right....can it ??

They’re wanted, NEEDED, by Father, right? They’re a part of him, as much as every other of their siblings. Nothing would work without them. Father cared about them, and so did Lust---

But Lust is gone. Burned over and over again until nothing remained, vanishing into thin air.

Greed left them long ago.

And Father....Father didn’t even try to get them back. They had fallen, stripped down to their barest existence and carried around in a jar, and none had come to their rescue. If not for the young girl’s empathy towards others, they’d have been in Xing, inspected and prodded and poked until they revealed all secrets.

No one cared.

In fact, maybe everyone was BETTER with them gone.

A fist wrapped around their heart, squeezing and suffocating and strangling until all hope bled into darkness. They’d welcome death’s embrace, but the universe was not that kind. They’d live on, whether they’d want to or not, and the emptiness would remain.

[envioussin]

Anonymous asked:

Pretending to above humans will never change the fact that you are still just a sad, lonely, little worm. Sure, you can ruin as many lives as you want but that won't change that fact that you will never know what it truly means to be happy.

DESTROY THEM – Accepting

Rage boils in their veins, pumping through their body hot as molten lava, hatred burning bright enough to rival Wrath’s. Murderous intent radiates from the sin, invading the room like smoke, strangling and choking the oxygen in the air. They are shaking, fists and teeth clenched, yet glued to the spot where they stand. They cannot move, despite their nerves screaming for them to break, hit, destroy, ANNIHILATE!!!

Worm. The word echoes in their mind, a single bullet ricocheting in an empty metal box. The long lost voices from Xerxes wail, crying hidden flaws in their ears, bombarding Envy on all sides: weak, worthless, pathetic, miserable, alone. You know this to be true. 

They try to think only of the rage, of the thrill that came from killing, the intense pride at being just better than another. Yet, no comfort reaches the heart. No one comes to aid in their distress, to banish the wretched words before they can strike the sin down.

“Don’t...call me....that!” they hiss, voice heavy with both venom and despair. But they do nothing more, for what can they? Envy is but a statue, melted metal cooling down by being drenched in water as the truth floods their senses.

They’re right. 

[envioussin]

Anonymous asked:

You'll never have a human experience.

DESTROY THEM – Accepting

A slight pain thrums at the very edge of their core, nagging at their mind for attention. Like pins and needles when a limb falls asleep, annoying enough to distract, but not enough to cause true distress. Irritation grows and teeth clench, but no emotion breaks their façade. Their mask remains intact. 

“Why would I want something like that?” they ask, voice betraying none of the lurking inner turmoil. “Humans are beneath me, and their pathetic experiences are too. There’s nothing glamorous or special that a human can do that I can’t. Oh no, I’ll miss out on getting sick, or owing money, or something else stupid.”

Left unsaid, but surely not unthought, are images of human families gathering together to celebrate a birthday, or the pure relief of the first bite of a favorite meal after a long day. Little things that the sin belittled at every chance, yet still lingered unwelcome in their mind. What of those, dear Homunculus?