#afterlife mention

[tommyssupercoolblog]

POLL TIME!!! BECAUSE IM CURIOUS!!! (poll is under da cut :3)

CW for death, the afterlife, and fusion mention.

[naminethewriter]

Reality Shift

We reach the end of another @loceitweek. It was very fun participating again, thank you mods for organizing 🥰 I hope you enjoy this last story of mine! 💛💙

Masterpost | Loceit Week 2023 Masterpost | Ao3

Summary: Janus is a Clockmaker with his own shop. When a particular customer comes in, things change in a ways Janus doesn't know - yet.

Content Warnings: Philosophical discussions, Death mention, Afterlife mention, Mention of burning and fire

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Janus was in the middle of installing a gear into his newest work when the bell above the shop entrance rang.

“One moment, please!” he called out, steadying his hand once more before moving the piece into place. It fit perfectly. With a sigh of relief, he pushed the magnifying lens away from his eye and wiped away the sweat on his brow. He allowed himself a short moment of rest before placing his tools aside and walking towards the front.

“Sorry about that, I was in the middle of an assembly,” he explained to the customer who was closely examining his wares. “How can I help you?”

The customer turn to face him and Janus was immediately struck by his deep blue eyes that almost seemed to draw him in. The other man must have noticed him staring because he quickly broke eye-contact and cleared his throat.

Janus shook his head. What just happened? Sure, he had had gay moments before but never like this. This felt different. It had felt… unnatural.

“I simply came in to browse. It is rare to see a proper clockmaker shop these days,” the man explained in a smooth tone that was very pleasing to Janus’ ears. In an attractive way this time, not that weird floating feeling he had got from looking into the man’s eyes.

“Yes, indeed. I doubt I would be able to do this if not for my uncle owning the building. I would never be able to afford the rent, but he’s always been very supportive of me.”

“I see. An understanding and supportive family is a great blessing indeed,” the man nodded. “If you don’t mind my asking, why are you making clocks and watches? With the advance of modern technology, most simply rely on their devices to tell the time. Some of the younger generations don’t even know how to read the time without a digital display anymore.”

Janus eyed the man. That was quite the personal question and he was normally not keen on sharing such details with strangers, but he was also a good judge of character – at least he thought so – and something told him that he could trust this man. Well, what was the harm in telling him?

“I always found clocks fascinating, the hands ever moving, the gears ever turning, everything needs to move precisely how it should for it to work. My grandfather had a small collection of watches, some quite valuable antiques actually. They were so pretty; I could hardly take my eyes off of them. And to just imagine of much effort and precision went into making them, it was like a miracle to me. I wanted to try it for myself, and now, here I am,” Janus smiled, leaning against the counter of his shop and watched his own creations tick away.

“Time is such a fascinating part of our lives, don’t you think?” he continued, absentmindedly stroking his finger across the face of his own watch. “An unstoppable force that dictates everything we do. The fact that we have limited time to live, to do the things we want to do, is what drives us forward the most and I don’t think people appreciate it enough. They’re afraid of death to the point that they curse the passage of time that brings them closer to the brink and I can’t think of anything more beautiful than to watch it pass and change our surroundings. Imagine how dull it would be if everything stayed the same if time didn’t pass. I don’t think enough people appreciate that about time passing. And I think having a watch, a separate tool dedicated to time, is a reminder to be grateful for the life we get to live, no matter how short or long.” He looked up and was met by those deep blue, captivating eyes again. Quickly, he looked away.

The movement seemed to startle the man out of his own thoughts and he cleared his throat again.

“That is some profound reasoning. I’m impressed.” Janus shrugged.

“It’s simply my opinion. Not many I’ve spoken to about it agree with me.”

“No, I imagine they wouldn’t. Thank you for your explanation. I will come by again.” With that the man hurried out the door and Janus wondered if he had just imagined the pink tint to the stranger’s cheeks.

~~~

Janus didn’t know what happened. One moment he was struggling to breathe, the smoke suffocating him, unable to move to escape the heat of the flames, and then, suddenly, everything had vanished. Or maybe he had vanished. The floor – or whatever was under him now – felt cool to the touch but not uncomfortably so. The air was clean and carried a hint of something he couldn’t identify.

He could breathe again. He wasn’t burning anymore. What the hell was going on?

“I’m sorry for my abrupt actions,” a voice he found familiar but couldn’t quite place, suddenly spoke above him, “but I couldn’t remain idle. Can you stand?” Slowly, because he still didn’t know what was happening and felt very disoriented, Janus pushed himself up.

“Where am I?” he asked before looking at where the voice had come from. He was met by a face he recognized though he didn’t know from where until he focused on the eyes. Deep, blue, and captivating. “You’re that customer from a few years back.”

“Indeed.” The man offered him a hand to help him completely to his feet which Janus accepted. He was wary of the stranger, but something about him felt so unthreatening he couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Janus reminded once he was standing. Looking around he found himself in an observatory of some kind, with a glass dome surrounding them and a sea of stars as long as the eye could see. Wherever he was, it was not Earth.

“It is not an easy question to answer.”

“I imagine it wouldn’t be. Am I dead?”

“Yes, in a sense.”

“Elaborate.” The man sighed before motioning Janus to follow him towards the giant telescope in the middle of the dome.

“Your human perception of death… I do not understand it fully, I must admit, but if I were to use terms that relate to what most of your kind believes, then I would be what you would call a deity. My domain is the passage of time and the movement of space. And in the moment of your death, I pulled away your essence from the world you know to here.”

“My essence? As in my soul?” Janus asked as they climbed the steps up to the lens of the telescope.

“It is not entirely similar to what you would call ‘a soul’ but close enough to make the comparison, I suppose.”

“Then what happens to me now?”

“That is up to you,” the man – no, god, apparently – shrugs as he motions for Janus to take a seat in one of the chairs placed beside the telescope while the god – feels weird to call him that, Janus thinks – places himself in front of the lens. “It was my thoughtless action that brought you here, but I will not force you to stay.”

“So I wasn’t supposed to be here?”

“No, you weren’t. This is a space of my creation, for me alone.”

“Then why did you bring me here?”

“I… am not quite sure of that myself. Unlike what you humans believe, even as a deity, I am not all-knowing. Especially you humans confound me often. Which is why I travel to your world every once in a while. I have watched you for millennia. Watched you curse my domain for ending your lives and keeping you from reaching what goals you strive towards, but you, you were so different that day in your store. You understood the value of my work and I found myself wanting to converse with you longer, but I am not supposed to interfere with your world. There are others – other deities if you so will – who care for your kind and do not wish for ours to change yours.

“So I kept an eye on you from afar and when you were on the brink of death, of disappearing from my sight, I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and bringing you here.”

“Won’t the other deities reprimand you for that? If you aren’t supposed to interfere?” Janus questioned.

“I did not interfere with what was supposed to happen. You still died. Your body will still be found and mourned. Time will continue the same as if I had not acted.”

“What about where I was supposed to go from there? Shouldn’t my ‘essence’ as you call it not be somewhere else?”

“No. It would have simply disappeared.”

“So there is no life after death?”

“There is not.”

“I see.”

“You are quite accepting of this shift in your perceived reality.”

“I suppose I am,” Janus smiled, coyly, as the deity faced him again after having looked through the lens for the last part of their conversation. “I never saw much sense in committing to a believe I couldn’t prove, so religion didn’t interest me. If you are a deity and you say this is how reality works, then I can accept that.”

“You truly are strange.”

“So I’ve been told.”

The deity laughed.

“I truly hope you will stay a while. I haven’t had good company in so long.”

“I have no where else to be, apparently. So why not.”

“I am grateful.”

“I’m Janus.”

The deity smiled and reached out a hand.

“Logos. But I would like you to refer to me as Logan.”

“Sure. Thank you for bringing me here, Logan. I look forward to learning about this reality from your perspective.”

[inaris-pokemon-world]

Send a legend + 🐉 and I’ll tell you a little about their role in the world. Giratina

Giratina, as Arceus's eldest, has a lot of responsibility in the world. They not only keep the balance of time and space as the embodiment of antimatter, they also play a crucial role in the spiritual world.

Giratina purifies corrupt souls of void energy so that the soul energy may return to the cycle of life. It takes a particularly foul being to develop void energy, and the process isn't well understood.

What is known is that void energy is created if a soul is particularly cruel and has complete disregard for other life. Standard poor attitudes and selfishness cannot cause void energy, implying something either the strength of the corrupted souls' depravity or perhaps something further at play.

Regardless, when the corrupt die, Giratina cleanses their souls. Their void energy is burned away, used to fuel Giratina itself.

[chimeras-critters]

speaking of After life, do Hell exist?

(Why are mortals so fascinated with the afterlife?) Um, yes. Of a sort. It’s a little hard to explain without going into uncomfortable detail, but Hell is a thing. But not a place? How to say…?

Hell is the process of breaking down corrupt souls to purify them!

C-Chitin—!

The souls are broken down piece by piece so the void energy can be removed and the pure soul fragments can be used to create new ones. It is incredibly painful for the damned soul, if that brings you any comfort!

Chitin, they don’t need to hear that…

They asked! Why would they not want to know?

[A new Mew has appeared!]

[loudclan-clangen]

Thinking abt how the kits would have absolutely zero grasp on the concept of mortality and death and how they'd be really confused on why their parents are upset and where Mothtree wen't :^)

Hi friend, I don’t want to be like a major downer but… Rosehipkit is VERY sick. She and Dogwood, more than any other kits, absolutely understand the concept of mortality and death in a way that they should not have to.

[starry-bi-sky]

how do you clone a fey? that's trick question; and fey love those!

@the-navistar-carol (<333) brought up a good point while I was talking about my changeling danny au with her -- Dani! How would she exist in this au? Danny's a changeling - a fae. How would Dani, a clone of him, be created? How do you make a fey? Not through any means that Vlad is doing; you can't make a fey through unnatural means, considering the Fair Folk are nature. And Vlad's not a fey himself -- he's a halfa, even if he could make a fey, it's not in his best interest too. He's a powerful ghost, but even the weakest fae can overpower the strongest ghost. He won't want a clone of Daniel to be more powerful than him.

(In a three tier hierarchy it goes Ancients -> Fae/Mythos -> Ghosts. They all live in the Infinite Realms, but on different Planes. The fae live above the Ghost Zone in the Fey Wild, while the Mythos live beside the Wilds or down in the ghost zone depending on where they are. Places like the Frozone, the Athens Acropolis, and other such large islands climb throughout all three Planes.)

(While Ghosts can travel into the Fey Wild, its generally advised against as the ectoplasm tends to manifest differently there due to close contact magic. It can make it rather disorientating for a ghost, and as human spirits, the Fae living there would jump them faster than they could blink. So unless you're willing to play mind games with 'steal thy name eat thy face' fae, most ghosts keep out of the way of the Wilds. Fey can travel down into the Ghost Zone, they just don't bother.)

That's of course, not taking into account if Vlad even knows Danny's a fae himself. Vlad doesn't ring me as someone who really cares much about ghost culture or the going ons of the GZ. He might be aware that fae exist, but the moment he realizes he can't use them for personal gain he just doesn't bother with them. The risk is greater than the reward, and he'd rather not get eaten. But lets assume he's aware by now that Danny is fey, and has to take that into account while cloning him.

So, how does Dani exist? Good question! Honestly; i'm not sure. She might not exist at all, or if she does, she's more halfa than fey. Vlad would need a lot of human dna and ectoplasm to balance out all that fae magic. He manages to steal DNA from Jack and Maddie to do it, and since Jack's fey ancestry is very dormant its much easier to use alongside Danny's DNA.

In turn, it results in a little girl whose more human-ghost hybrid than clone. With that little extra boost in fey magic making her not a fey, but still relatively powerful. Dani is less of a clone and more of a lab-grown little sister. It's a rather tedious, complex process that has Vlad tearing his hair out trying to figure out. But he does eventually figure it out.

[thenerdiestmanalive]

Time to spread my Charles and Edwin are Orpheus and Eurydice reincarnated agenda

Dream, please come get your son, he keeps going down to hell to save his partner

[valhallavalgrace]

Have you used your powers at all since getting to Hotel Valhalla?

Leo hasn't used his powers once in battle and it's probably costed him a couple losses. (The dreams are likely both from the gods and also from genuine demigod PTSD.)

I've posted a flashforward in-universe valgrace fanart about this arc here... he'll be happy again one day I'm sorry

prev ask

[katoska]

Theory why Betelgeuse left Lydia's side to "go to the little boys' room" and took over for Richard at his booth for a bit:

Yes, he could have dealt with Jeremy without playing dress-up and taking over Richard's job, and didn't have to enable Richy to get a little more family time in the process. They could have saved Astrid just fine without that, so it seems unnecessary, for him to do that. OOC, even. Except

2) Richard wouldn't owe Betelgeuse a big favor for said taking over of his job and enabling the extra family time with Lydia and Astrid. Also, ofc, for saving his daughter from trading places with Jeremy. Betelgeuse did all that at great cost to himself: A Code 699 violation (see screenshot of transcript from reddit below) gets you extra time working as a civil servant, it gets your topside privileges revoked, and it voids any marriage you entered into, so his contract for payment from/marriage to Lydia was meaningless (well, if it had been a marriage certificate rather than just an agreement to get married in the future. and if he'd actually signed it. and then possibly only if he'd signed it before entering the Netherworld so there'd be a marriage TO void, rather than... not signing it at all... *sigh* he totally burned that half-signed and not-yet-binding contract himself bc he understood she wasn't ready to marry him yet, is what I'm saying, but I digress).

1) Lydia wouldn't have gotten closure for her ex's death without it. Closure which she sorely needed, because the fact that Richard's body was never found plus her seeming inability to see his ghost (Richard: "I know you two can't see me, but I check in on you all the time") add up to her having been in denial of his death. She couldn't see his ghost because she really really did not want to see proof that he was dead. So now she gets to move on from him. Which is very convenient for B. Especially as Richard is unlikely to be able to visit her anytime soon even now that Lydia has accepted his death and should be able to see him again, but I'm getting to that.

Still 2): Anyway, B doesn't do favors. He does business. If people are allowed to take over for others at their jobs in the afterlife, but those jobs are also a form of punishment where you have to "do time" at them for a specific duration, then those work hours are a currency that you can give away or trade. You can, if you find someone who is willing, get someone to do your time for you (hell, you can even get a naive Breather to trade their actual Life for your afterlife existence).

So yeah, I don't think Betelgeuse took over Richard's booth just out of the goodness of his heart. I think they made a deal, one that means that B will be topside again much sooner than the Deetz' will expect so he can get back to trying to seduce Richard's ex (hey, Richard always supported lost causes, so... 😆), while Richard will be stuck at work, unable to visit the Living for a long and unspecified amount of time. Not that his family's gonna notice, bc they never used to see him visit them, anyway.

And yeah, according to someone from reddit who decyphered that page in the Handbook, there's a bit about how the Deceased who violated Code 699 has to cease Trading, if applicable.

But I think that only goes for post-conviction of the crime, not as an automatic consequence of the crime, as B was also still able to visit the Living World to attempt the church wedding. Which, actually, is yet more evidence that this latest marriage attempt was more for the sake of declaring his feelings and testing the waters (and showing off, and getting rid at the competition) than him trying to actually get, and stay, married. Cause the church wedding would have been voided by a conviction, too.

Anyway, that's my theory on B's incredibly considerate, and therefore incredibly suspicious, detour to Richard's booth and letting Richard have his heroic moment.

And tbf, Lydia and Astrid are Richard's family. So it wouldn't even be unreasonable to expect Richard to pay for the legal trouble B got into from saving them. Like, I'm sure he'd have done it anyway, but if B can pass on that buck then ofc he's gonna.

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Took my 7 and 9 year old to church for the first time because their grandma was playing the bells and they wanted to support her because she always goes to their cello concerts.

Last year we had a situation where their cousin was saying that Christmas was started when the Maccabees and the baby Jesus were stuck in a cave with a lamp that lasted seven nights and my kids were like yeah that makes sense you have that story totally right.

Also they often ask why so many churches have Ts all over them but I don't want to talk about crucifixion because it's gross and weird so I always say I dunno. They must like Ts?

So anyway we haven't been super diligent about the Christian thing. So before church I warned them they have to behave at church similar to how we behave at the ballet. That made sense to them.

Here are their takeaways:

Kid one. "I liked the cranberry sauce we put on the bread." Kid two: "maybe it was grape juice?" Kid one: "but it was a yummy magic potion, anyway."

They were interested in communion and drew a bunch of pictures of chalices with potions bubbling in them.

Kid two: "Yeah, i liked the tasty snacks"

Kid two: "i liked singing but I kept aaying that Cress word like Criss on accident." Me: "Do you mean Christ?" "Yeah, that one. Whatever it means."

What did you learn at church?

"that the curse of Jesus says we will neverrr die." (Spooky voice)

"I think jesus is supposed to be a blessing? Not an evil curse?"

Do you have any questions about church?

Kid 2: "if god isn't real how could Jesus be real? It doesn't really make sense."

Me: "how do you know god isn't real?"

7 year old Kid stares at me like I am the dumbest thing that ever existed. "How could god be real? God is just old stories. Which god even is it?"

[brynnsasha191]

Listen, as much as I love moonfam and the Ruthari + Rayla/Rayllum content we got in s7, I also kind of don't stand for the Tiadrin and Lain erasure. Like I get it, they're dead now so like what else is there to say? But they only permanently died recently and after Rayla was given hope that she could bring them back after not seeing them since she was a little child and had that hope ripped away from her. And she never got to express sadness about that to anyone. Idk, I wanted at least for someone to mention them once during the Silvergrove scenes. For someone, anyone, to say that they missed them, or for Runaan to mention sometime that his heart had been hurting because two of his best friends went through the same Hell he did, and they didn't survive it.

Like, yes, absolutely Rayla is Ruthari's daughter. But she's also Liadrin's daughter. She was their moonberry, and they deserved to see her happy and in love just as much as Runaan did. And yet she was only ever called Ruthari's daughter for the Silvergrove scenes, T'was a disappointment a bit.

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Mahito x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 1'129

Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapped reader, Talks about death and the afterlife, Mahito's experiments, Mahito is an asshole (but what else is new).

Additional Notes: Ya girl has Thanatophobia and therefore Reader does as well. Reader also does not believe in an afterlife here.

“Why do you look like that?”

The question made you frown, attention shifting from the dripping water coming off the pipes above your head to Mahito’s crouched form beside your makeshift bed.

“Like what?”

“That,” he said, lifting a hand up and poking your cheek. You could feel the indent of his finger digging into your teeth. “You look like a sad wet dog.”

You were quick to smack his hand away, expression turning annoyed. “I’m fine.”

He tilted his head and you suppressed a sigh. Usually, you were quick to quip back at him with something you thought was clever, like his comment being something every woman wanted to hear - spoken in your typical sarcastic tone.

You weren’t surprised that he’d find that kind of answer underwhelming.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Come on.” He dragged out the last word like a needy child, sprawling himself across your lap so you’d be forced to fully focus on him. “It’s obviously something.”

The sigh you finally gave in response held far more weight than you had wished. He grinned. “Nothing you can do anything about.”

He snorted. “Did I offer to do anything about it?” he poked your cheek again. “Tell me what’s going on in that little mind of yours.”

The slight twitch of your eye that followed betrayed the fact he had you exactly where he wanted. It made you sick just thinking about it.

“I’m just…” You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment as you looked away from him. “I can’t stop thinking about what happens… after.”

You could feel Mahito’s hair grinding between your thigh and the back of his skull as he shifted his head in your lap. “After?”

You gestured vaguely before looking back at him. “After we die.”

He blinked. “That’s it?”

The disappointment in his tone wasn’t surprising. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the topic was either boring for him, or he just genuinely did not care. Regardless, it clearly wasn’t something that interested him in any form.

“You asked.”

“I did, I just didn’t expect it to be something so uninteresting.” He said as he sat back up, a small pout on his face.

You cringed at the confirmation of your thoughts, but anger quickly overtook the embarrassment.

“And you wonder why I don’t want to talk to you, you just make fun of me.”

“Then stop making it so easy.” He grabbed your jaw before you could turn your face away from him again. “Why are you wasting time on something so dull?”

“I can’t help it,” his lips twitched up at how petulant you sounded for a moment. “How can I after what I saw?”

His eyes widened in almost a madding form of glee as his face twisted to match the expression.

The macabre sight of his experiments was something that was burned in your mind forever. No matter how much you tried to scrub the events from your memory, you could not get the stain out. It was as permanent as those ghastly red stains on the walls and floor of the sewer he had dragged you into. As sick and gut-wrenching as the pleas for help from the ones who had enough mental capacity remaining to beg for death while your own words were caught in your throat.

And yet it made you wonder if that really would be a mercy because, to you, there was no afterlife. There was just… nothing.

And that terrified you almost as much as what Mahito was capable of.

“Awe, did that upset you?” He cooed, running his thumb along your cheek in a gesture that would be sweet if it wasn’t so condescending.

You smacked his hand away, teeth grinding as your anger came back up. “Fuck you.”

His giggles were like nails on a chalkboard. “Later, right now I wanna know if you’re gonna keep being a downer over something that happened days ago.”

“You can’t be serious.” The incredulous words left you before you could stop them because you knew he was. It was written all over him, without shame or reservation.

Sometimes you wondered if it was even possible for him to have any before you were reminded of the fact he was a Curse with each perverted expression of schadenfreude.

Your disgust coiled inside your gut like a parasite.

“So you are.” he let out a puff of air that blew a few of his shorter blue strands away from his face. “They’re going to die no matter what, what does it matter to you if they go to heaven or whatever fairy tale you humans like to believe in?”

“Because I want to know if I’m going to end up the same as them or not.”

There was a shift in his expression once you said that. Gone was the usual childish glee, replaced temporarily with god-awful authenticity.

“You’re not going to.”

He said it with such conviction that it made you laugh for a moment.

“I don’t believe you.”

You decided at that moment that Mahito’s frowns were far worse than any of his smiles could ever be as he looked at you directly in your eyes.

He stayed like that for a little while. Silent. Analyzing.

Then his eyes gleamed. “You’re scared.”

Of course you were. “No.”

“Yes, you are, don’t be silly.” He got in your face again, amused. “Your eyes don’t lie, I can see your soul trembling.

You shoved him away. He let you. “Why are you so afraid of something that’s inevitable?”

“Yes, how foolish of me to fear the end of my own existence and the destruction of everything I was and ever will be.” The words were bitter as you spoke them, eyes narrowing.

He snickered. “There’s no point to birth and death. It’s only your meaningless attachment to life that makes it terrifying, you know.”

You could only scoff, unable to come up with anything to say in response to that. You returned your gaze to the pipes, completely appalled.

When you failed to say anything after several minutes he sighed and crouched in front of you once more. “If it’s any consolation, I’m not going kill you.”

His hands cupped your cheeks as he brought his face about an inch away from yours. “If you somehow died, I still would not let that be the end of you.” His tone shifted into a sincerity that caught you off guard. “Your physical body would be gone for the time being, yes, but I’d still have your soul.” His thumb brushed over your lower lip and he grinned for what felt like the millionth time. “And that’s something I intend to keep around for a very… very long time.”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2023. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[sparrowsage]

The Warehouse: The Ending of a Story

This piece was definitely something to write, I'll say that. It was interesting to write this out and figuring out how to make sure things were even in terms of actions and internal thoughts and dialog the way I wanted but at last, here we are. I assure you all that Sparrow will be fine, this is hardly the ending of Warehouse, far from it. This piece is important for up coming things and needed to be written to set up stuff for future pieces down the line. It is also set after a certain event that is still in the works and happens around 2 months into the story and hopefully will be posted soon. I'd like to give a huge shout out to @flowersarefreetherapy for giving me some suggestions on where to take things at certain parts and being a beta for the piece, as well as thanking @whumpcereal, @darkthingshappen, and @oddsconvert for cheering me on as always! The piece starts under the cut due to it's content.

HEED THE WARNINGS FOR THIS PIECE AS IT'S A VERY HEAVY PIECE THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME PEOPLE!!! TW: Reference/mention to past and future noncon, mention of past torture, mention of past character death, implied future torture, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, self harm thoughts, self harm, depressive thought process, heavy grieving, adult language, thoughts about the afterlife (If I missed anything, please let me know and it'll get added ASAP)

“Hope you enjoy your new home, Songbird. Maybe then you’ll wish you were still with me.”

Why did Damon have to be right?

He was right to a degree, anyway, Sparrow thought, staring at Damon’s desk from his lying position on the floor in a corner of Damon’s office, barely being able to make out the outline of the piece of furniture in the dark. 

From the second he had gotten on that stupid thing, what was it called again? A plane, that’s what it was called, a plane. From the second he had gotten on that stupid plane, Sparrow had already been wishing he was back in Damon’s care. It may not have surfaced fully at the time, but deep down, that’s what he felt. With Damon, he at least knew routine, knew the environment he was living in, how things worked. With Volkov, he knew nothing, only that he had to survive. Sure, he had survived living on the island for two weeks only to be shipped back here, but things were different. He had to readjust to the system again. It should have been easy when he returned, slipping right back into proper routine with his Keeper as if he had never left the place, but it wasn’t. 

Nothing feels the same now. Things he was used to, things he would normally fight against without a second thought, would send spikes of fear straight through his core, alongside doubts of why he was even fighting back in the first place. Because why fight back when there was no hope of ever leaving, of ever escaping this awful hell when everything you go through today would just repeat the next?

There were also the nightmares. So many nightmares, most of which were the events of his past. Before he left for the island, they hardly happened. That, or he never remembered them. Now though, each night he kept reliving the most awful things he had ever experienced in this place and he couldn’t get them to stop no matter what he did. Some were about when he was a kid, a mixture of different points in his training both before and after he was thirteen with Logan. Some were about after Jayden died and how much shit he went through due to how hard he’d fight back and retaliate. Most of them though were about Jayden. Sometimes his brain would just relive the moment he died, each time reopening the wound and bringing up all the horrible emotions he felt when it had happened. Other times it would twist the event and provide him the false hope and relief of returning to the main room and finding his friend, alive and perfectly fine, as if the whole thing never happened.

Sparrow’s eyes moved slowly over the faint outline of the desk light Damon had on his desk as he thought, letting out a quiet sigh as thoughts kept circling in and around in his head. 

Damon had left him unrestrained tonight, a small reward for both being able to go through a shower for the first time since returning without heavy retaliation or fighting and for complying with more orders than he usually did. There was a small part somewhere inside him that was grateful for the fact he wasn’t restrained for once during the night, but a bigger part of him hated it because it meant that he was obeying, crumbling under Damon’s training, something he swore from the moment he first awoke in the Keeper’s office that he’d never do. 

What good was there in fighting back at this point? If he had listened to the Keepers, so much wouldn’t have happened, so much pain he would have never had endured. He wouldn’t have been a free-for-all amongst the Keepers, he wouldn’t be under Damon’s controlling hand, he wouldn’t have gone to Volkov’s island, Jayden wouldn’t have died. 

Tears started to well in Sparrow’s eyes as he continued to trace the outlines of the things on Damon’s desk with his gaze. 

It was all his fault. 

Jayden had never fought back that hard against the Keepers until that day, and it was all because he had watched Sparrow do it time and time again. If Sparrow hadn’t been hell bent on fighting back, Jayden would be alive right now. He’d be fine. 

Maybe it was a mercy though, Sparrow thought, shutting his eyes tight as he felt the tears finally spill from his eyes. He’d forever be upset and angry that Jayden died, that he lost his one and only friend to Logan and this awful system, but maybe it was a mercy. A way out of this horrible cycle once and for all.

Jayden had endured his fair share of abuse here, especially around the time when he died, but he was able to get out before more could ever occur. Worse things Sparrow had unfortunately gone through and would continue to go through. Sparrow had heard some stories about different pet owners, what they did to those they purchased. At the time he heard these stories, before he was with Damon, he didn’t envy those pets, quite fine with the safety netting that the Keepers couldn’t deal out that kind of damage. Now it seemed like he was living out those stories he had heard so long ago, all because he had tried to fight back against the system. 

Opening his eyes again, Sparrow eyed the desk for a second before he slowly pushed himself up to his feet, wiping the tears from his eyes. 

A mercy, a way out once and for all. 

If he could pull it off, Sparrow would be free. He’d never have to go through another Showing again, never have to see Damon or any of the other Keepers again. He’d never have to watch Jayden die again in his dreams. Maybe he’d be able to see Jayden again, getting to be with his friend wherever he ended up after he died. Sparrow didn’t know where people went after they died; maybe they went to a new world, a better world, maybe they just stopped existing entirely. At this point, anything was better than being here. 

Slowly, Sparrow made his way over to Damon’s desk, his eyes slowly going void of any emotion as tears silently fell down his cheeks every now and then. Clicking the desk lamp on, he flinched slightly at the light, it taking a second for his eyes to adjust after spending the last few hours in the dark. 

He never understood why things were like how they were. Why did he have to be one of so many to get treated so horribly? Why did the Keepers have all the say in everything they ever got to do and feel? No choice in any matter, no say in anything that happened, nothing. If there were only two options on who to be in this world; a pet, whose only job is to serve whoever owns them however they want no matter the cost, or a Keeper, whose job it was to enforce control and dominance over pets, to train them so they could fulfil their purpose, Sparrow would much prefer to be a Keeper. Then that way everything would stop, things would be better. He’d have control over his life. 

None of that mattered though, because it was never going to happen, and he wasn’t going to be a pet for much longer. To hell with what he was supposed to be. 

He could see the desk more clearly now that the lamp was on. Sparrow’s eyes slowly went over everything on the desk, trying to find something that would serve his purpose. But there was nothing he could use. Damon was an orderly and well kept man, not to mention careful. The Keeper would never leave anything out that could potentially be used against him and if he did, Sparrow would have laughed in his face. The amount of trust Damon would have to have in Sparrow would require a lot more than Sparrow would ever give him, or anyone for that matter. 

Damon, Sparrow thought, letting his eyes crawl slowly across the desk again, just to be sure he didn’t miss anything. Why did he ever have to get involved with him? Why did he have to gain the Keepers attention? So much time had passed between Jayden dying and Damon taking over his training. From what he could remember, he hadn’t done anything differently since Jayden died, so why had Damon stepped in? Why did things change? 

Why did Damon have to be different?

He was still learning new things about the man, even after all the time he had spent with him thus far. Sometimes things would change, small things, and it always threw him for a loop, but thankfully most things stayed consistent. Even if he grew accustomed to how Damon did things, he’d never fully get used to the pain. So much pain, new pain, new marks, reminders of what Damon could do whenever he wanted. Before he met the Keeper, he didn’t have many scars, the main one being the Warehouse branding mark all the pets got. But now? His body was littered with so many different scars, all with their own story on how they got there. 

Sparrow’s head slowly turned to the walls of the office, eyeing a glass picture frame of something Sparrow didn’t know the name of, the faintest of smirks ghosting across his face as an idea formed in his head. 

What’s a few more marks on his body, he thought, slowly approaching the picture frame, staring at it for a good long moment. A few more marks added to his body, the defining marks of the final story of his life, once and for all. 

Slowly, Sparrow reached his arms up, carefully taking the picture frame in his hands, giving the picture one last look over as his grip tightened around the frame. Taking a step back from the wall, he raised the picture frame before, with all the force he could muster, threw it down onto the ground, flinching ever so slightly at the sound of the glass breaking. 

It took him a moment to crouch down, looking over the different pieces of the broken glass, trying to find the biggest piece, the sharpest piece. It didn’t take him long, careful fingers picking up the shard of glass. Standing once more, Sparrow slowly made his way to the middle of the office, his eyes never leaving the piece of glass in his hand, turning it over several times as he looked at it. 

This should work perfectly, he thought. 

What was the best way to do this? Any way he could think of required time and no intervention, how could he do this quickly? Sparrow raised the piece of glass slightly, his gaze glancing over towards his left arm, remembering a couple times where Damon had used that stupid bullwhip on his back and feeling faint and dizzy afterwards. 

“You’re lucky I know how to get blood stains out of the carpet, Songbird, otherwise we’d be doing this in one of the Showrooms, and I’m sure you wouldn’t enjoy the audience listening to you scream.” 

So many hits with the bullwhip, each one hurting like hell, but he bled, apparently a lot if Damon’s comment was anything to go off of. That must be why he felt dizzy after the Keeper was done, the blood loss. That’s how he could do this, pull it off. 

He had to bleed until he couldn’t anymore. 

There was no world in which this wasn’t going to hurt, Sparrow knew that. He’d have to go deep, deeper than the bullwhip ever did, and the bullwhip hurt. Despite this, Sparrow was okay with it. He was the one in control here, no one dictating his actions but himself. It was entirely his decision, his will, and no one could stop him. 

Eyeing the glass thoughtfully for one final moment, he raised his left arm up, a few more tears falling down his cheeks as his grip on the glass tightened, his expression twisting into a sickening, twisted grin. 

“You should have left me restrained, you son of a bitch.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sparrow’s expression fell as he brought the glass to his arm, right below the crook of his elbow, before pressing down as hard as he could, dragging the shard all the way down to just below his wrist. As soon as the glass broke through his skin, Sparrow let out a sharp hiss through clenched teeth, his arm starting to shake as he watched blood immediately well up out of the wound and start to fall down either side of his arm. 

A cracked whisper of a smile slowly worked its way onto Sparrow’s face as he watched the blood drip off his arm, taking a moment to feel the pain of what he’s just done. It hurt like hell, like nothing he had ever experienced, but in a weird way it also felt good. Good in the way that soon all of this would be over, he’d never have to experience this kind of pain ever again, and the fact that the pain he was in right now was because it was his choice, not Damon’s or anyone else’s. 

It was entirely his decision and Sparrow couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit happy that, in the last moments he was going to spend here at this fucking place, he was doing something of his own free will, something that he wanted to do. 

His right hand started to tremble as he went for a second cut, right beside the first, just as deep. More cuts means more blood, more blood means more bleeding. He couldn’t help but let out a gasp of pain when he dragged the glass through his skin this time, but this was progress, good progress. More and more blood seeped from the open wounds, the carpet by his feet starting to stain with the crimson color. 

More cuts, more marks, more blood, Sparrow thought, clenching his teeth as he opened and closed his left hand, watching as more blood came out of the wounds when he closed his hand tight. 

His left arm burned from the cuts, but it was progress. Carefully, Sparrow put the glass shard in his left hand, noticing that he couldn’t get as tight of a grip on it like his right hand, but that didn’t matter. He just needed to do two more cuts on his right arm and he’d be done. Surely two cuts on each arm would be enough, right? 

Repeating the process, he brought the glass up to his elbow before pressing down as hard as he could, dragging it down his arm towards his wrist. Sparrow couldn’t help but let out a pained noise this time, his left hand shaking more than he would have liked it to as he felt the skin break and tear underneath the glass. 

Time and time again, he had to feel the abuse of the Keeper’s who forced him to do awful things. Time and time again he’s had to feel the torture of Damon and his cruel hands with whatever hell he thought up for the day. Time and time again he couldn’t do a damn single thing about it because fighting got him nowhere. 

As he was about to make one final cut, Sparrow swayed slightly where he stood, blinking a few times to try and get his footing. Looking down at his feet, the carpet around where he stood was stained in red as blood continuously dripped from his arms. If he was getting dizzy though, it meant what he was doing was working. Just one final cut. 

As Sparrow dragged the glass shard down his arm one last time, his left leg buckled, causing him to stumble down to one knee, the glass curving from its original straight path down his arm. He let out a curse as he did his best to readjust his position on the floor, now sitting on his legs before letting the glass fall from his hand as he held out his arms in front of him, looking them over. 

More and more blood poured from the cuts, his arms trembling from the pain and from the loss of blood, but despite this, all Sparrow could do was smile. Thinking about dying, at least in the past, had scared him to a degree, but right now? The only emotion he felt was happiness. He was happy he was finally getting out of this place, away from everything, hopefully to see his friend again. And he was entirely under his own control. No Keeper forcing him to do anything. He finally got to take control of his own life in his final moments. A perfect ending to his final story. 

Sparrow’s vision started to swim, black spots starting to form around the edges as he felt his body start to sway back and forth a bit. His arms started to get heavy and he just let them fall, shutting his eyes as his body followed suit, slumping to the office floor. 

Jayden had told him about stories when he was alive, he even told Sparrow about a few he had been thinking about writing if he had ever made it out of this place. Sparrow couldn’t help but think of it, about the magical place Jayden had described to him. Maybe that’s where Jayden ended up, even though Jayden had said his story wasn’t real. Who knew what happened to a person when they died, maybe they ended up in magical places like the one his friend had made up. Hopefully though, if he himself were to end up in a new place, a new world, he’d end up in the magical place Jayden told him about, and maybe, just maybe, his friend would be there to greet him once he got there. 

Taglist: @mannerofwhump, @honey-is-mesi, @painful-pooch, @whumperfully, @hiding-in-the-shadows, @flowersarefreetherapy, @goronska, @blueyellow8green, @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, @whumpcereal (if you'd like to be added, let me know!)

[chimeras-critters]

How do you Punish those who defiled the Gods (Cyrus, Giovanni, Ghetsis, Archie/Maxie, and Lyandre). Do you send them all to Hell upon death or you let their karma decide?

For better or worse, I let the Legendaries they wronged handle that. If it were up to me, they’d suffer thricefold for every organism they harmed. But I do not choose where they go after death.

…Though I suppose I can take solace in the fact I doubt they’d be allowed in a pleasant afterlife. My siblings would see to that.

[evilkitten3]

do you guys think deidara like. knew how old tobi was. do u think he knew this guy was in his 30s. do you think he knew that

[kiwibirbkat]

I'm very thankful for all those people who make playlists of all different perspectives of a series in release order because as a binge watcher it's very helpful.

Like, if I want to understand all of Grian's lore, I need to watch hermitcraft. And if I'm watching all of Grian's hermitcraft, I should obviously watch all the other hermits too because they're all important to Grian! And if I'm watching all of the hermits, I should watch empires smp season 2 as well because they're combined. And if I'm watching season 2, I obviously need to watch season 1 so I can get a better grasp of the story. And if I'm watching empires, I should watch some of their other content like kingdomcraft and Xlife and rats smp. And if I'm watching rats smp I should obviously watch some of Owens other content, like outsiders smp. But of course I can't just watch his perspective, I have to watch everybody's! And obviously I need to watch pirates smp and afterlife smp and-

It's exhausting to be like this but I could go on

(if there's another series I should watch to get a better grasp on these characters pls tell me I'm all ears and desperate for lore)