loonza

loonza ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

welcome ladies and gentlemen to the grand opening of las nevadas: entertainment capital of the world .ᐟ

15 posts

Virtual Angel !

─ Virtual Angel !

Aventurine x GN!Reader

Inspired by 'Virtual Angel' by ARTMS!

Tags: Obsessed Aventurine, Religious Imagery, Religious Symbolism, God, Angels, S*icide, Parasocial relationship (?), Aventurine hates himself, Self-hatred, Hurt No Comfort, Angst.

Word Count: 1.6k

Aventurine stood at the edge of the building. His vision is a split screen between his feet and the back alley. The sky was beautiful, bright blue with a few white clouds dotted along the view. They were so fluffy and clean. Just like Them. Their white wings were far more superior than the fake ones he wore on his back. Everyone wore them, everyone in The Gathering. It was like a show of faith. Although it was never as permanent as the tattoo that bled into his skin. A black cross. Slightly downturned arms. It paired awfully well with his neck brand.

His pupils shook as he peered down. Why? He had done this over and over again, yet he was still frightened. Not of death, no. In fact, he craved it, he wanted to die. But They scared him, every time he did this, yet he couldn’t stop.

They wouldn’t be happy, quite devastated if he jumped and died. Every other time he’d do it, They would scold him.

‘Please clean me. Please help me.’

He felt sick and twisted.

His left hand held a small white wand. A shiny Aventurine attached to the top of it. They always encouraged him to clean it often. They told him that Aventurine is beautiful and should be taken care of.

That was probably the 20th replacement They had been forgiving enough to give him after it shattered next to his lifeless body.

Here we go again, let’s die. I’m going to die because… I hate myself. I’m disgusting. No one loves me. They don’t love me. Why? Why don’t They love me? I dedicate my life to Them because I need faith. I need faith to continue. I hate my life. I hate my past. Please kill me.

Please kill him.

A glowing figure appeared in front of him, hovering in the air. Their spotless wings outstretched. White clothing adored their body, decorated with pure gold. Their eyes investigate him, a smile on Their face. Their lips opened, their voice drowning out every other sound of this world.

It was you. The one who Aventurine truly needed.

“Why is light given to him who is in misery, and life to the bitter of soul, who long for death, but it does not come, and search for it more than hidden treasures; Who rejoice exceedingly, and are glad when they can find the grave? Why is light given to a man whose way is hidden, and whom God has hedged in?”

You could only deliver these sacred words to him every time he rejected life. Your heart ached. It really did hurt you. He was too insecure to believe you loved him.

Aventurine sighed and choked out a few tears.

“Why?”

“I know you are angry with God,” the words fall off your tongue. Every syllable, every pronunciation, every vowel and consonant were heavenly to his ears, “But I know you do not curse God.”

He stretched his left hand out, sending the wand to its own death. Your eyes followed it down, seeing the Aventurine shatter into bits. You look back at him. Blank face.

“Is my forgiveness not sufficient? Is my giving not feeding you? Do I not unlock my heart enough?”

The tears started flowing down his cheeks at your words. He’s only cried in front of you. No one else at The Gatherings had ever seen him truly.

“I don’t believe it.”

Your hands ghost over your chest, shutting your eyes and no longer smiling, “Yet you still pray to me, pray to God every day.”

You’re right. He still has faith; he can’t even go back home anymore. He spends nights sleeping where he sees you, where he prays for you. He only eats fruit. He feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to consume anything else.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.”

He must do everything to make you and your God pleased. Everything besides his frequent suicides. He was addicted. He can’t stop that, no he couldn’t!

And so, he did.

…

His fingers are shaking. His breath is fast. His heart was pumping, and he had tears down his face. The weight of the headset on his head was heavy, blocking his vision. His hands pressed against the machine and pulled it off his head, messing up his already messy hair.

His body was snug in a beanbag, covered in pillows and blankets. Gently dropping the headset beside him to not wake any of the other members of The Gathering who also slept on beanbags with the same headsets on their heads.

The pink and white plushies stared lifelessly into his eyes. They surrounded the room. The white walls painted over with the pink lighting from the neon lights hung up around the room. A few neon signs were eyes. Eyes everywhere watching them, watching him. The large light was an exact replica of the tattoo in his skin. Pointed cross, downturned arms.

The box TVs placed at the front of the room played blue static. The sound of white noise and breathing echoed in his ears.

Aventurine’s hands felt around in his lap and recognised the familiar object that had recently been placed in his hands. The wand, the same Aventurine attached to the top of it. It glowed softly as your whisper echoed from the gem.

“Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”

Your words repeated the same words over and over again until the glow died down.

“Sleep. Rest your temple of God.”

Aventurine’s eyes fluttered open to the same room.

Everyone was gone with their headsets carefully placed on their beanbags.

The TVs stirred and the blue static distorted into a video of you. Your voice poured out of the speakers in a heavenly tone.

I’ll be there for you when your wings break.

Letting go of you that’s a heartbreak.

His pupils dilated at the sight of you and your voice. He slowly got up and crawled to the TV. Pulling his face to the screen, he could see every pixel of you. You took up his entire vision and his mind was foggy.

His fingers caressed the screen. The false wings on his back shifted from left to right and he moved impossibly close to the screen.

My feelings are complete when the moon rises.

His breath graced the screen as tears welled up in his eyes again.

Please, please, please.

O Lord.

His eyes close and lips sweetly kiss yours through the screen.

He whispers to you through the screen, “When I open my eyes at last… Please save me saviour.”

Your eyes meet his as he opens them, breaking the fourth wall. You smile at him, with a lingering feeling of sadness.

“I’m just your Virtual Angel.”