Autophobia: the fear of being alone.
Theophobia: the fear of God, or Godlike beings.
CW: Graphic mention of rotting and death via shooting.
—————
shit.
shit.
Wails and sirens pounded against the angel's ears, tearing into his conscience as the light of his actions finally dawned on him. The tip of his gun emitted a thin trail of smoke, the bullet once sat in the chamber now lodged in the dead man's heart.
The shorter blue-haired one of the trio, presumably his brother, was knelt over the corpse, sobbing and hugging the latter's cap. Armaros' eyes met the demon's. She was terrified, he could sense it, but it only fueled his anger and regret.
It was supposed to be her.
Not him.
Why did he have to interfere?
Almost instantly after he glanced at the girl, his original target, a blinding light encapsulated him. He cried out and covered his eyes, for the aura he sensed was no longer welcoming, but belittling and furious.
"Your mission was to eliminate the demon, not that mortal."
Armaros froze.
No.
FUCK.
The angel refused to remove his hands from his eyes, too afraid to see the higher-ups and witness their fury.
"You have committed such an act of sin, not even God can redeem you anymore," the voice boomed. "You are no longer welcome here, you are now a fallen."
Fallen—?!
"W-Wait!!" Armaros pleaded. "Just one chance, I ca– AGH!!"
A sharp, throbbing pain shot through his upper back and he shrieked. He turned his head and his eyes widened in pure terror as he helplessly watched his left wing decay right in front of his eyes. The feathers turned a murky grey and fell off one by one, the skin rotting and splitting as the bone slowly dislocated and hung limp.
Armaros collapsed to his knees, weak from the searing agony that fell upon him. Hot tears stung his eyes as his vision blurred from panic and pain, not noticing the large clouds beneath him part ways.
He fell with a desperate scream, hand outstretched towards the further-distancing haven he once called home as he plummeted hundreds of miles towards the Earth. Small fragments of bone and feather gathered above him, displaying the full extent of his punishment.
S
uddenly, everything hurt. Arms, legs, back, head, it was all burning. All Armaros wanted to do was curl into a ball, yet the pain was so intense he was immobilised. He could only descend powerlessly as his consciousness slowly faded, the deafening ringing in his ears dying down.
——
Do not forgive me, for my sins are far too great.
Redemption is far gone; I can no longer receive pity.
This is my punishment.
I do not deserve sympathy, nor forgiveness.
God above, close my eyes, for this time I shan't wake up.
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YOU ARE READING
Funkin' Oneshots
FanfictionA collection of oneshots related to Friday Night Funkin'. ⚠️=possible trigger warning Annie's sprite in the cover is illustrated by Atsuover. [Most art will be created by me, unless stated otherwise.]
