#Alone Ghost
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gray-samael · 4 months ago
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People voted for me to draw this.
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lemonwrap · 4 months ago
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Thinking about Alone Ghost whose three heads can’t ever quite get along, always arguing and pissing each other off—but they unanimously come to the agreement that they really, really like Soap and they want to get all five of their hands on him as soon as possible, thank you very much
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ghouldtime · 4 months ago
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Alone. Truly Alone.
I know I’m not the only one who took one singular, inquisitive glance at the new Alone Operator skin for the upcoming season and went “Would”. I need need need content on him
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If you had to rank all the terrible decisions you’ve made in your life, this would certainly be in the top ten. Breaking into an abandoned place was a bad idea on its own. Now multiply the magnitude of that by twenty, considering it was supposedly some kind of military facility at one point in time before it was left to rot. Then add in the factors that you were alone, without a map, and no cell service. Yeah, definitely not your smartest decision. 
Dozens of garish yellow and red signs marked with a variety of warnings used everything under the sun (and law) telling you not to proceed decorated the corroding chain link fences that lined the property like it was going out of style. The crumbling facade of iron and concrete that made up the walls were made out to match. Everywhere you looked there was yet another warning, another thing telling you to turn back now. That should've been a sign, right?
Well, it wasn't the sign you were listening to. That one, the only sign you cared about right now, you had spotted stapled to a telephone pole as you were waiting to cross the street to go to your favorite grocery store. The crumpled, salmon pink flier hastily crammed in your backpack was your savior and your curse that brought you here.
The reason being a whole whopping $500. Something that would greatly benefit you and cause a whole less of a headache this month - and allow you a chance to breathe. It was a chance you couldn't pass up. And it's not like it was complicated. All you had to do was: get into the desolate fort, get proof of evidence of being inside there (photographic AND physical), and get out. Simple. Easy money. A task that even you could manage in maybe an hour or two, tops. You'd be an idiot not to do it.
Why anyone would pay that kind of money for you to go in there was beyond you. Quite frankly, you didn’t care. Money was money. Everyone had their reasons and if they were paying that much for a task that was that simple, then you weren't going to pry. All they had to do was pay up when the time was done, you'd never think about it again, and you'd be on your merry way a whole lot better off and a little bit richer.
Just to be certain that this wasn't a prank or someone trying to harass their ex with a pathetic attempt to get their number out there, you called the number scrawled hastily on the rain-soaked, faded poster. A harried Scottish accent confirmed without a doubt that this wasn't fake and was real as real could be. Truth be told, you didn’t understand much of what he said aside from “Aye”, which was close enough. He seemed to be talking at a million miles an hour in a near frantic tone. Surely, that was a red flag. But right now you were colorblind to everything except green.
It was enough motivation for you to throw some gear into a backpack and head out late in the night to the address of the once-important fort. The promise of cash and having it soon in your hand was plenty to get you moving.
Against your best instinct, against your gut screaming at you and telling you to turn back, and against all common sense - you went forwards anyways and decided today was the day when you’re going to pretend that you’re illiterate and those warnings meant nothing to you anyways.
Stale, stagnant air filtered through the respirator that hung snug on your face. If you breathed in a lungful of whatever was in here without it, it's likely you would’ve ended up with some new kind of respiratory disease previously unheard of - you're sure of it. Algae and lichen clung to some damp crevices, decorated with splotches of black mold the darkened the corners even more along the outskirts of the inky, lingering shadows.
Each cautious step forward onto the rubble and gravel covered ground ricocheted off the dilapidated walls of the corridor, fading into the abyss of black that stretched on far beyond what you could see. Though you doubted the protective eye ware helped you see better - it was probably more of a hindrance but you didn't want to take any more risks than necessary. The last thing you needed was a hospital bill.
The pathetic beam of warm, yellow light your flashlight provided scarcely illuminated the void that swallowed the hallway whole. What little you could see did nothing to motivate you forward. More disintegrating ceiling and rubble-buried winding halls greeted you with the same unwavering stillness as the rest of the place.
Crumbling, bleak, cold passages decorated with mildew, mold, and umber mystery stains you really didn’t want to think about alike stretched in a winding labyrinth you tried your best to navigate. Sparse nearly-disintegrated warning signs served as place markers to guide you through the otherwise directionless building, offering you the smallest sense of navigation and a sense of knowing where you were going.
One foot in front of the other, step by slow step, you made your way through the place untouched by light and people alike.
It shouldn't be that hard, you mused as you kept on walking. Whether it was just to reassure yourself with a steady mantra or confidence was left up to debate, but the fact remained: it was simple. Get an object that irrefutably proved you were here, take a picture - and that was it. That was all.
Now, that still left the question of what to take and what to get a picture of up for debate. Scouring the building hadn’t turned up anything worthwhile so far, except maybe some signage. But they were all too… generic. They were all something that could easily be faked and pulled from elsewhere. And a picture of them or another dimly lit, basic hallway wouldn’t do you any good. It would get you a door slammed in your face, a laugh if you’re lucky, and certainly no $500 which was the whole reason you were here in the first place.
Maybe you should’ve asked specifically what he wanted you to bring and a picture of….
Who are you kidding? You wouldn’t be able to understand a lick of what he said if you did. Maybe his accent was better in person, maybe he had told you in the hurried, almost anxious tone and you weren't remembering - but trying to talk to him again through the phone was a hopeless endeavor. Unless they were keeping a spare brain in here and translating software, you doubt you'd be able to even begin to try and understand the guy. All you could do was silently curse yourself for not asking, curse him for not being more coherent, and try your best to find something unique, snap a picture, and get out of there before you regretted stepping foot in this place even further.
With grumbled curse, knowing very well that you had to go further in the hopes that something actually substantial would greet you, you kept on going. There was no turning back now, no. You'd come too far. One more step forwards got you closer to that money and being out of here.
Yet lady luck wasn't making this easy, nor was she on your side today. A majority of doors you came across had been locked - barricaded, and certainly not something you could open. Their heavy, unyielding steel frames stood impassive, unmoving, and scarcely caring of your plight or any force used against them. It's almost like they stood there, mocking you silently for even trying. It was a waste of energy to even try with another one when the first twelve hadn't done anything more than groan slightly, giving the tiniest shudder before stilling in their frame.
Rounding what must’ve been the hundredth corner, you braced for yet another blank hallway and another unmovable door, but what greeted you was something different enough to cause you to halt in your tracks. An open door. A single, open door marked with a flickering, old bulb dangling above as if it were on its last legs, trying to stay alight. A wave of relief washed over you as you couldn’t help but to sprint forward, closing in on the hope that you could be done and out of here - and you’d have your money before you knew it! It was almost over. This aimless wandering with a stuffy mask and glasses to match was almost over.
Ignoring all common sense, you chased that feeling - quite literally. Caution was thrown to the wind as you darted into the room, your eyes flickered all over the first true, non-vacant room you’d found in here. Empty hospital beds with yellowed, stained linens haphazardly jumbled across their tops lined the walls. It wasn't a pretty sight but right now, it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
Panning your flashlight around, the warm, washed-out beam glinted off the dusty metal IV stands and carts littered about. Cobwebs spidered the corners of the walls and the rest of the surfaces alike, though their inhabitants seem to have left long ago.
Scanning the room, a few seconds ticked by before you finally found just what you needed, dangling off the foot of the bed by a worn hook. There it was, your holy grail: a brown piece of hardboard and rusted metal alike holding down frayed, yellowed pages. It's the only time you can officially say that you've been happy to see a clipboard - much less, elated and overjoyed to see such a simple piece of office ware. You could practically kiss it and taste sweet, sweet money right about now.
Swiping it from its place, your eyes flitted over the blotched, inky text scrawled on it, silently praying that it would have just what you’d need. The smallest corner of a logo stood in the top right corner, while the rest of the patient information seemed to have been rubbed at or swiped away. And your heart nearly sank in short-lived disappointment. Water stains distorted and warped the paper but your saving grace came in the form of a date and the name of the complex, officially signed at the top of the paper. 
The warm, giddy feeling that had been so fleeting earlier came back with a vengeance that lit up your heart and face alike. This was it! This was just what you needed. Placing it down, you fumbled with the camera clipped onto your belt, the tremble of excitement in your hands doing little to aid you. Snapping a picture of the clipboard with a quick click and a flash of light, you stuffed your saving grace into the weathered backpack you had donned. 
Task one - done. Now to get a good picture of the place and you'd be done. One simple click, one move, and one terribly annoying walk through the forever expansive hallways, and you would be out of here and back in your comfy bed before you knew it. Maybe you'd even get to catch up on a single episode of your favorite show.
Stepping back into a corner where you could find a vantage point, you held onto that flickering flame of hope as you pointed your camera and flashlight alike in the same direction to snap a quick picture of the room. With a simple click and a flash of blinding light, the deed was done. You could finally be out of here. 
Or so you thought. 
A sparse glint caught your eye as the bright flash ebbed away, the shadows returning full force aside from the gleaming, round lights that turned towards you. Your heart skipped a beat as you froze, your breath hitching as a wave of fear sunk the beginning of its talons into you.
No, no. Not a glint, you realized with horror. Six. Six luminous, reflective lenses glowed in the dark as they turned to look right at you. Staring. 
Your heart sank even further into your stomach, your blood running cold, as the corner went dark once again for a fraction of a second before all six glowing dots were back and all were looking right at you.
With a trembling hand, you kept your flashlight lowered. You don’t think you wanted to know what that was. No creature - no living being that big would have six eyes. 
You took a step back. 
Then another.
Another.
The ice-cold sensation of your blood coursing through your veins, your heart erratically beating against your chest harder and harder, kept you from screaming. A creak of the protest from the old hospital bed sounded like a gunshot in the otherwise too-still room as the thing stood and started moving towards you with footsteps that were all too quiet, all too soft for a thing of that caliber.
Whatever breath you had been holding escaped you as it lumbered out of the shadows. An unearthly, sickening gurgle spewed from its maw as if it were choking on its own saliva.
Even through the respirator, the scent of putrid rot and decay wafted from it as it drew closer and closer, your stomach tensed as you gagged, the bile threatened to rise from your stomach as the urge to puke took you by surprise. If you weren’t wearing the respirator, you’re sure you would have - and maybe you would have noticed it in the room sooner if you could've picked up the stench of death.
The urge to run, all instincts screaming at you, pleading and begging you to run for your life simply didn’t work as you stood rooted to the spot as it finally stepped into the trembling, watery beam of light that cut through the speckles of floating dust. A scream of horror caught in your throat as you finally stared up at the abomination's mangled form with wide eyes.
Three heads, all fused together in a webbing of crimson, sinewy membranes moved in sync. Six eyes - six, now unblinking, cloudy eyes settled on you. Despite the milky, glassy sheen to the eyes settled and sunken deep into the heads (or in the raw membranous flesh in the case of one eye on the head to its left) - it tracked every single movement and breath, focused on you with near predatory ease. Five arms hung loose by its side, with two of them being partially fused together in a sick amalgamation. Bits of pallid skin had long ago sloughed off, exposing muscle that had blackened with exposure but somehow not rotted away.
Skull masks and balaclavas covered most of their faces - and you supposed that was a good thing. If the distended, broken jaws of the heads were indication of how it would look underneath, you’re happy declining on seeing what lay below. Drool spilled onto the fabric, or some mystery liquid, bubbling up as it made yet another noise. The motion caused your have to fly up to your covered mouth, your heart and stomach alike retching.
Torn tactical gear adorned the twisted cerberus, blackened with fluids, almost as if it had once had a purpose - to protect. But your mind wasn't there, it was on its existence. The abomination, the chimera, the thing that shouldn’t exist and went against all aspects of nature stood in front of you unmoving for a moment until you took a single step back.
It took a step forward.
Ever so slowly, as if moving through molasses, it drew three scarred hands up, reaching for you.
That was all you needed to take off. Up and out through the hall where you came, your legs strained as you sprinted. Each footstep echoed louder and louder down the void of black and gray you came from, flooding out the sputtered groan from it but you didn’t care. Consequences be damned, you didn't care how loud you were or how much attention you drew. You were better off getting caught by a guard or hell even the police - at least they’d have guns. 
Every inhale scorched your lungs, the fire of fatigue seared deep into every strand of your muscles as you kept on pushing, but you didn’t stop - you couldn’t. Not until you cleared the hallways, skirting through the piles of debris and around the same desolate corridors you had meandered through prior. Not until the crisp, chilled night air finally greeted you as the stars twinkled above, oblivious to the sheer horrors below. 
Not until you finally jammed yourself through the cut hole in the chain link fence, any pain of the metal scraping at your skin dulled out by the adrenaline flowing through your veins, empowering each sprinting step forwards until you were far, far away and back in the safety of your car.
Note to self: Don’t ever trust fliers you find on telephone poles.
This guy better be ready as soon as the sun graced the land again to hand over those five Benjamins. Hopefully he likes his mornings started with pounding knocks to his door and a middle finger to the face. 
જ⁀➴
The darkness echoed with the patter of fading footsteps as the mystery person sprinted away, completely aghast with a look of sheer primal fear painted on their limited, exposed features. 
They didn’t see how his fingers flexed, hands still outstretched in the air, twitching once again at the loss of something warm, something human that he came so close to grasping.
They didn’t see how he stared at where they were, not moving from the spot he stood. Nor did they see his clouded, hazy eyes downturn as he dragged his form back to the bed with great reluctance. 
Nor did they hear the drowned out, garbled words that took all his energy to choke out and force his broken jaws to move. 
“Don’t…. go….”
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Thinking of maybe making this a series! Any feedback is welcome and appreciated! It's been a while since I've written so forgive any mistakes,,,,
Edit: part two has been posted!
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kindersurprisebacterium · 1 month ago
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Mutated (Ghost/Reader)
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CW: Alone!Ghost violence, graphic depiction of murder, corpses, blood, nonverbal consent, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, double penetration in two holes, drool, cunilingus, kind of gross, author is on benadryl
Gender Neutral AFAB Reader
WC 2.8k
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Crickets softly chirped in the distance. The gentle bubbling of the hot tub melded with the song. Yellow-tinted string lights hung above the deck, igniting the dark landscape. 
My fingers clenched around the can in my hand. My head was swirling from the alcohol already trickling into my blood. Tilting my head back against the edge of the tub, I sighed. I couldn’t get enough of nights like these. 
Laughter drew me from my momentary peace. Opening my eyes, my gaze landed on my friend curled up at her boyfriend's side. Her fingers traced along his chest. Both of their eyes were drawn to the phone in front of them. 
My brows knitted, eyelids fluttering closed as I pushed scattered thoughts from my mind. I never enjoyed being the third wheel. 
Soft splashing drew my attention. The water lapped against my skin as her boyfriend- Liam, Noah, whatever- stood. 
“I’m grabbing another case from the kitchen.” He mumbled, swiping the strands of damp hair from his forehead. The wooden deck creaked beneath his weight as he padded off toward the back door. 
Marissa's eyes were trained on his half-naked frame, only flicking to me as the door creaked shut. She had a grin on her face, mouth agape as if she was in disbelief. 
“Isn’t he amazing?”
In truth, that was the only sentence he’d spoken to me. He made Such a lackluster first impression that I couldn’t come up with a response. I simply nodded, sipping the last drops of beer from my can.
“He, like, understands me. He’s so supportive.” She continued. 
“Good,” I stated plainly, pretending she hasn’t said the same things about her last two boyfriends.
“It’s just so refreshing to finally be with someone I can connect with, you know?”
The conversation lulled into silence. I grasped my phone, squinting as the bright screen cut through the darkness. My lock Screen was bare, not even an email notification. Out of habit, my thumb tapped the Instagram logo. My heavy eyes followed the endless stream of photos, not even bothering to stop and double-tap. 
In my peripherals I watched as Marissa glanced to the door, then to her phone, and back again. She brought her nails to her lips, teeth sinking into the keratin with a soft pop. 
I pursed my lips, glancing back down at my phone, hoping the array of images in front of me would distract me from the slowly disintegrating friendship I was in. And yet I couldn’t help but focus on the way she fidgeted, eyes not leaving the back door. I clicked my phone shut, only to be met with an eerie silence as the cricket song faded into nothing. 
With a soft thud, I set my phone down. Squinting my eyes, I gazed into the pitch black. The bubbling, queasy feeling of dread rose in my stomach. I swallowed the anxiety down, bringing my gaze back to Marissa. 
“It’s, like, weird that he hasn’t come back yet, right?”
As I parted my lips to speak, I watched as a figure emerged from the shadows behind her. its thick fingers wrapped around her head, pressing tight enough to draw blood. 
It didn’t have just one set of arms, but three sets melded together with fleshy ligaments. Soft pops echoed from Marissa's head as the figure compressed her skull. Blood oozed from the finger holes that penetrated her face. 
Her brows knitted, lips parting in a silent scream as the beast tugged at her head, splitting it with a reverberating squelch. The hot tub turned deep red as blood and brain matter splattered into the water. 
My heart pounded in my ears. I clasped my hand over my mouth, holding back the vomit that threatened to rise from my chest. The figure grunted as it tugged her limp body apart. Gushing blood flooded the hot tub enough for the red-tinged water to run over the side. 
My eyes latched onto the figure's face- or rather, faces. Like a blood soaked humanoid Cerberus, the creature had three heads, identities shrouded by a mask. Fleshy tendons joined the faces together like some sort of mutated monster you’d find in chernobyl.
The last of my resolve broke as I let out an unrestrained scream. Turning, I lept from the hot tub, quivering knees buckling beneath my body. Cherry red water ran down my legs as I stumbled toward the back door. I grasped the doorknob, pushing the door open. 
My body met the plush carpeting as I fell through the door frame. I quickly glanced over my shoulder, eyes locking onto the hot tub. Fear swirled inside my veins as it realized the creature was no longer there. 
I scrambled onto my feet, not paying any mind to the red stain I left on the carpet. My fingers gripped the lacquered railing of the stairs. My feet thudded against the carpet as I rushed to the second floor, glancing over my shoulder periodically. 
I darted down the hall, turning toward the bedroom at the end of the corridor. The carpet met my stomach as I lowered myself to the ground. Sucking in a sharp breath, I crawled under the bed, pressing my cheek to the floor. My gaze stayed locked onto the door. Dread swelled in my throat. I clenched my jaw in a weak attempt to hold back my nausea. 
Dull thuds echoed from down the hallway, slow and erratic. I squeezed my eyes shut tight enough for my head to ache. The faint smell of iron and rot wafted down the hallway, growing more potent by the second. Over my pounding heartbeat I could just barely hear distant groaning and chortling. 
Suddenly the thudding ceased. My eyelids flew open, locking onto the set of feet just a few feet before me. Hot tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. 
An aching pain sparked in my ankle, traveling up my leg. Thick, bloodstained fingers wrapped around my calf, pulling me out from under the bed. My eyes latched onto its white, foggy irises. I choked out a sob, snot running from my nose. My limbs went limp below the creature as I braced for my death. 
But nothing came. 
The creature sat above me, heaving with every strained breath. Each set of its eyes flicked up and down my body. Its gaze was predatory, but in another way. I watched as the creature leaned down just inches above my stomach. A thick strand of bloody spit drooled from one of its mouths. I pursed my lips, holding back the vomit that threatened to rise from my stomach. 
The creature leaned in, licking the mess of blood from my skin. Heat rushed to my face as the monster grumbled. One of its hands grasped my hip, nearly big enough to encase my thigh in his grip. He grabbed the hem of my swimsuit, pulling it from my body with force. I sputtered out an incoherent protest as he pulled me forward. 
Despite my words, I didn’t raise a finger, opting to watch as the creature set his sights on my bare body. 
“Mine,” one head gurgled. 
Thick fingers wrapped around my ankles, spreading my legs wide for the beast. I could feel every ounce of blood in my veins throbbing to the beat of my heart. My face felt hot, unnaturally hot. I covered my face with my hands as the set of heads drew lower and lower and lower. 
Drool ran down my cunt as the creature leaned in, sloppily flicking his tongue over my clit. Another head softly nipped at my inner thighs, lavishing his tongue over the bite marks he made. The third simply kept his eyes trained on my core. 
It was messy, almost to the point of discomfort. The figure sloppily ate me out, strings of spit poured from its mouth. My hips bucked when the tip of its tongue flicked against my clit. The creature paused, grumbling to itself before leaning back in. 
Like a heat-seeking missile, it focused its attention on my clit. Its tongue rapidly flicked against the nub. Unrestrained moans fell from my spit-soaked lips. I let my arms fall limp at my side. My gaze stayed put on the monster between my legs, grunting with every cant of my hips. 
Two of its arms held my legs still as I squirmed in his grip. With another, he slid his hand up my inner thigh, gathering saliva on his fingertips before circling my entrance. 
He trusted his fingers inside of me. Pain sparked in my core as he shoved them forward forcefully. I pulled away, brows furrowing as I looked down at the creature. 
“Too hard, it hurts,” I winced, as if expecting this monstrosity to understand. 
Soft clicks echoed from its throat as it leaned back in, tongue going right back to my clit. His fingers slowly rocked in and out of me in time with his tongue. My eyelids fluttered closed as I let my arousal wash over my body in waves. 
My cunt squelched with every thrust of his fingers. His pooling spit only added to my wetness. I looked down at the creature with half-lidded eyes, watching as he made a mess of me. 
It was disgusting, watching this pile of flesh and rot eat me out, and yet I couldn’t get enough. I reached down between my legs, tugging at his balaclava, pulling the creature closer to my cunt. 
I cried out as he pushed a third finger inside of me, working me open for him. Heat swelled in my abdomen as each thrust of his fingers, each flick of his tongue drew me closer to an orgasm. Gritting my teeth, I pushed aside my thoughts, pushed aside the picture of the mangled body that lay just a hundred feet or so away. 
My knees were pushed to my chest, knocking the wind from my lungs. I stared down between my legs with wide eyes. The set of heads had pulled back as if to watch as a single finger pushed into my asshole. I threw my head back against the carpet, crying out incoherently as he worked the single digit past my taut muscles. 
The hand resting on the back of my thigh inched forward, toying with my clit. It flicked the tip of its thumb up and down over my clit. I glanced down, eyes widening as I realized each set of eyes was trained on my core. I reached between my legs, hand resting on top of the creatures. My fingers guided its thumb in quick circles, hips bucking as arousal sparked in my core. 
“Fuuuck,” I drawled, “that’s it, good boy.”
The creature grumbled, thrusting its finger in and out of me at a quicker pace. Biting down on my lip to conceal my laughter, I let my body sink deeper into the pleasure.
Who’d’ve guessed this monster had a praise kink?
Another finger pushed inside of me, slicked with drool. My brows knitted, breathy moans falling past my parted lips as he worked me open. He grunted, speeding up the pace of his fingers. Its hips twitched as it rutted against the carpeted floor. 
He added a third, clearly growing impatient. My thighs quivered as he roughly thrust the digits, pace growing sloppier by the second. My thighs shook with every flick, every push. The noises spilling from my throat crescendoed. 
Tension built, tugging every muscle taught. Every tendon in my body tensed, every ligament flexing under the weight of my arousal. My vision grew unfocused. Flashes of white brimmed in my peripherals as his fingers sent me over the edge. 
Sweat beaded down my heaving chest, sputtering moans spilling from my throat. I clenched around his fingers, hips canting toward his hand. 
With a huff of air, I went limp. I watched as the creature pulled its fingers from me. Its tongue darted from its mouth, swiping along the digits. I glanced away, pursing my lips and swallowing down my thoughts. It was too late to second guess this decision, wasn’t it?
I eased myself onto my knees, glancing up at the creature before me. My palm pressed against his shirt, dampened by blood and drool. I pushed against his hulking torso, nodding as he laid back against the carpet. 
“That’s it. Now, I think you deserve something, don’t you?” I toyed with the hem of his shirt, easing it up over his toned stomach. Pleased grunts and gurgles erupted from beneath me. I straddled the beast, fingers slipping beneath the band of his tattered jeans. 
I tugged at the denim, attempting to pull it down his hips. It didn’t budge. With a grunt, I yanked the fabric. Nothing. With a soft grumble, the creature shifted its weight off of its hips. 
Three stiff cocks sprung free, bobbing against his abdomen from the sheer weight. My breath caught in my throat as I looked down. They were flushed and drooling pre-cum. 
“Fuck-” I cursed. 
Its hands grabbed my hips, positioning me over its leaking cocks. 
“Wait- wait. Please take it slow,” I sputtered. 
The creature clicked, bringing a hand to my cheek. Its dirty fingers stroked my skin in silent understanding.
“Mine,” it said again. I wrapped my fingers around the shaft of one cock, earning a groan from one of the heads. Glancing down, I watched as the head of his cock disappeared inside of me. My head spun as I slowly took his length inch by inch. Beneath me, the heads were chattering. 
Two of its hands gripped my hips, guiding me up and down its length. I pressed my hands against his chest, letting him take control of the rhythm. 
He slowly brought my hips down, and back up. I savored the way every inch of his cock dragged against my insides. I felt him twitch inside of me before stilling. He lifted my hips, each set of eyes fixated on how my cunt swallowed his length. 
One head gurgled, white eyes meeting mine. The head of another cock nudged against my asshole. I wordlessly nodded.
My jaw went slack as he inched his cock inside of me. Each inch making me feel so undeniably full. Tears brimmed in my eyes, threatening to spill over as he lowered me down onto his cock. I could feel him in my lungs, knocking the air from my chest with every prod of his head. 
With a choked-out sob, my pelvis met his. His fingertips gently kneaded my ass, thumb stroking my hipbones. I stared down at the beast with half-lidded eyes, wordlessly spitting into my hand and wrapping my digits around his third, neglected cock. 
The third head, quieter than the others, began to babble and gurgle incoherently. Its warped blue eyes fluttered closed. 
My motions spurred something in the creature. In an instant, it was lifting my hips, guiding my body up and down his length. 
“Fuckfuckfuck- just like that!” I sputtered. Drool spilled from the corner of my puffy lips, running down my face. 
Each thrust felt almost too overbearing. Every drag of his cock ignited my nerve endings, sending jolts of pleasure through my nerves. My skin felt burning hot, the only respite being the sweat that oozed from my pores. Streaks of dirt spread across my skin as his filthy hands groped every bit of bare skin within reach. 
I leaned forward, pressing messy, opened-mouth kisses to one of the creatures faces. Its skin tasted like moss and pennies. I would’ve been disgusted had I not been on the brink of orgasm. Then I was mashing my lips against another head, moaning against its bloodstained ligaments. And then the next, leaving a trail of drool in my wake. 
“So good,” I slurred. 
The creature bent its knees, using the angle to thrust into me harder. I planted my hand atop its chest, bracing my quivering body against the onslaught of its hips. 
“That’s it- fuck!”
The grunting and groaning grew louder. Another set of hands slid beneath my top, toying with my nipples. My hand grew unsteady, each stroke becoming more and more erratic as my pleasure subsumed me. 
“I’m gonna cum,” I babbled, toes curling as I lost myself. I threw my head back. Hot tears poured from my eyes, running down my flushed cheeks. My voice came out as a strangled mess of moans, melding with those of the beast below me. My skin felt freezing, pricked with pins and needles as my orgasm washed over my body. 
I went limp, falling forward into the creature’s chest. A set of arms held me close, another gripped my ass tight, and another lay limp by his side. The beast gurgled, rutting its hips into me before stalling. Warmth flooded my insides, running down my inner thighs and coating my stomach. 
Its muscular hands eased me off of its now limp cocks before gently placing me back down. Its embrace felt warm, inviting, addicting even. The hold its arms had on me was intoxicating—enough to tug at my eyelids.
And yet the distant sound of sirens pulled me from my dozing state. 
“Fuck.”
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Masterlist
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snailvi · 4 months ago
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quick sketch because the Alone reveal has made me feral
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solivagantingrebel · 2 months ago
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it's great that you ended the man who was cussing (and torturing) the love of your life, but maybe not pop his skull like a balloon as your first introduction to the said love of your life (after you've changed) and scare him shitless, you know?
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ariesterartist · 3 months ago
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I decided to quickly draw Alone, I really liked this variation of the Ghost
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http-paprika · 3 months ago
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The new alone Ghost skin goes fucking hard and takes me back to the emotional reaction I had to zombie Ghost. That being said, I might revisit the What's Left mini series and cry at the thought of doing another mini series for alone Ghost.
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velvet-paradox · 4 months ago
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Sooo someone wanna explain why Alone Ghost is in KorTac??? Did they experiment on the 141??? That's why their all pieces of him? I need the horror story bc now all im thinking about is Ghost mumbling Johnny like a zombie does for brains 😭😭😭
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wintercalamity · 3 months ago
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I'm so close to finishing a ghost soap drawing, I should be able to finish tomorrow but it's gonna be on my twitter bc I don't wanna risk posting it here. I love my old ass blog too much for that.
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Day 11 - Slasher - Call of Duty - Alone Ghostsoap
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John's heavy breathing echoed around the vast hallway; despite the fact he didn't want it to. The cold autumn air cutting against the inside of his lungs. Somewhere in the distance he could hear that...thing...stomping around after him, garbling out a soft 'Johnny' whenever it stopped.
His eyes widened as he couldn't stop himself from coughing, he was never amazing at running but especially not in the cold. His lungs burned but he had to get up, the pain motivating him further.
Tripping and stumbling through the halls he lets out a hoarse, breathless cry when he collapses. Large, clumsy hands grabbing him, putting him over its...shoulders...? He'd run out of energy to resist, just going limp and praying it would be quick.
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gray-samael · 3 months ago
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I wanted to see how Alone would lie on Soap's lap.
Conclusion: Soap's lap is not visible.
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reversetimed · 3 months ago
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ghouldtime · 4 months ago
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Alone. Truly Alone. Chapter Two.
You finally go get your $500 - and more than you bargained for.
A follow up to this post:
https://www.tumblr.com/ghouldtime/761732918458597376/alone-truly-alone?source=share
💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀
Crazy. You’re certain you’re crazy.
You’ve finally lost it. Gone off the deep end, as they say. But not just into the deep end of a pool, no. Straight into the Marianas trench, home to nightmares and abominations of nature alike.
There’s no way that you saw that… thing. There’s no way that thing could exist, right? There’s simply no plausible way. No mutation that horrible would result in anything living, sustaining, breathing. Nothing with that much dead, rotten flesh was alive. Nothing could be. Nothing should be.
Yet the picture that lay on your coffee table begged to differ. The glossy photo seemed more like found footage than anything as it lay there, almost mockingly in its freshly printed state. Blotted ink remained a little bit grainy and blurry around the edges, a little too dark - but the substantial figure was there, nevertheless, lying on the bed in the corner of the picture, tucked away in the darkness. All six arms lay on its chest, heads turned curiously towards you as it reclined.
Even if it was rough around the edges, there was no denying the proof that the nightmare of a creature was, in fact, real and not just a vivid hallucination brought on by the delirium of wandering through endless hallways and inhaling mold. It wasn’t a perfect picture, or even a good picture. But it was a picture, substantial proof, something you could wave around and say “SEE! I’m not making this up!” all the same.
The longer you stared at it, the larger the pit in your stomach grew. It had been there the whole time - watching you. That monstrosity had been there the entire time, lurking, watching. A wave of nausea hit you as the phantom smell of it resurfaced, your hand finding out mouth as you gagged and averted your eyes to the ceiling. You didn't want to think about it or look at it any longer.
Such a thing couldn’t be real. Shouldn’t be. There’s no such thing as monsters.
Sleep evaded you, lingering on the precipice of your consciousness, always just out of reach as you stared at the TV.
After all, what if that… that thing came after you? What if it followed you back? With six hands, surely it could pry apart the fencing and any door it wanted. And with how silent it moved, you wouldn’t notice it until it was too late. The only thing that brought you a modicum of comfort was the fact that it would have to pass several dozen houses and streets to get here, at the very least. And that wasn’t even including the drive it took to get there. Someone would notice it before it got to you.
But that doesn’t mean they would stop it. No one in their right of mind would confront such a thing.
You checked that every single door and window was locked with trembling hands and rechecked them again and again. Darkness bathed the inside in its inky wash as all the drawn curtains and blinds shielded you from the outside world that you wished would go away.
White noise from the TV sounded throughout the house as your favorite show aimlessly played loud enough to provide you something so you wouldn’t have to think. The voices were something familiar that you could hold onto amidst the raging storm of emotions and flurry of thoughts in your head. They were something that drowned out the chatter in your skull that nagged you, threatening to eat you from the inside out. But they couldn't tune out every rustle outside or every bump in the night.
Sporadic flickers of color and light danced continually as the hours waltzed on in agonizing slowness. The people on the TV prattled on and scenes changed, but you didn’t move. Not one bit. Every slight creak and shift of the house had you hunching down closer to the couch, eyes darting around as your heart froze and breath caught until the noise passed, praying for day sooner rather than later.
By the time the birds began singing their all too merry songs outside and the faintest slivers of sunlight finally peeked through the bottom of the curtains, you’d run over the possibility of how this thing could exist twenty times over, questioned your sanity nearly just as much, and were no closer to an answer.
You should just forget all about this, tear up the photo, and pretend it never happened. Maybe you could convince yourself that it was all one terrible, awful melatonin-induced dream if you tossed the damned photo down the paper shredder and fed the evidence to a blazing fire.
You'd never have to see - or think about it again. Out of sight, out of mind, was how the saying went anyways but a sinking feeling told you it wouldn't be that easy.
But the ugly, salmon colored flier reminded you of what awaited - of what you could get if you pushed through this nightmare long enough to throw the offending picture at the guy in exchange for the money you would really like right about now instead. It would still be out of your house, out of sight, and maybe one day out of your memory if you got rid of it fast enough.
Which, thinking about it - you didn’t know where to go to offload the accursed possessions you'd swiped. The guy had never given you his address. You only had his number and maybe he’d given his name, not that you understood much of whatever he said. A quick glance at the digital clock on your phone determined it was 7:30 AM. As far as you were concerned, that was early enough to make the call after the hell of a night you just had.
Dialing the number, the phone rang.
And rang.
And rang.
And rang some more.
If it went to voicemail, you’d kill that son of a-
“Aye - John speakin’” The gruff voice crackled through, interrupting your thoughts.
You could’ve sworn you heard a yawn from the other end. The little bit of sympathy you might’ve had for waking him up ‘early’ went right out the window though with one quick, furtive glance at the picture of the being that would haunt your dreams for many moons to come.
“Hey, it’s me.” You breathed out, your own sleep-deprived brain not exactly being the best at conversations
The pause on the other end, the silence that lasted for what easily could've been centuries (or only a few seconds, it was hard to tell), shocked you into a slight stupor as you stuttered out in a single breath, “The person who spoke to you last night. About the flier.”
Licking your lips, you nearly grimaced at just how poorly you thought this call through. Maybe it would have been a good idea to take a nap before you dialed his number - or maybe an energy drink to stir yourself to alertness. Well, it was too for that late now. Far too late. “I went. Got what you asked.” You stated, trying to sound more confident than you felt.
The other end went still, silent, you couldn't even hear him breathing for a few, painstaking moments that drew on as the clock on your phone blinked 7:32. Checking to see if he hung up, you turned the screen of your phone on again before the voice came through once more.
“… you did?” By some miracle, you could distinguish the words through the slurred Scottish brogue addled with sleep.
“Mhm.” You tried not to look at the picture that watched you from all angles. “Got the, the.. thing, got the picture. Like you asked.”
Each unsteady beat of your heart thudded louder and louder against your chest as the seconds ticked away. Outside, someone starting up their lawnmower echoed through the silence. The steady humming of the machine in the near distance cutting through the air like a knife.
The man hummed a noise of approval, or what you’d classify as that. Maybe he just was a fan of awkward silences.
“Brilliant. When are you free?”
“Today. Now.” You wanted this done and over with before you could think about it anymore.
He paused for a split second before agreeing with a non-committal noise “Right. See you soon.”
It seems he too wasn’t keen on taking his time to meet up either. Before you could ask for the address, he hung up. Staring in disbelief at the now blank phone, a flare of indignation rose right in your soul. Who was this guy and what the hell was up with him?
First time you talked to him, he was near erratic and all over the place. Now he hardly seemed to be breathing. And he just hangs up on you? The gall of that man. You certainly were going to flip him the bird for all of this after you got your money.
Before you could text him a slightly passive aggressive message asking where, pray tell, you're supposed to go; a text bubble lit up the screen with the address. A residential address, come to find out with a quick mapping search. Great. Just great. Now you were likely going to this psycho’s house.
Once again, this really wasn’t your brightest idea and started to increasingly seem like a good way to find yourself lying six feet under, taking a permanent nap in the dirt. But money was money and turning back now meant kissing that sweet cash goodbye. Not to mention, it meant going through all of that would’ve been for nothing. At least you could cuss him out face-to-face if something else went wrong. Knowing your fortune, and luck, it was probably already written in the stars.
Turning the location on on your phone, leaving a note on the counter (though no one else would see it, aside from police investigators if everything truly imploded), and pocketing a switchblade, you grabbed your things and got in your car, ready to ride off to your doom.
The drive, as it turns out, wasn’t long at all. It was maybe fifteen minutes at best, including traffic. He’d been that close this whole time? You weren’t sure whether to laugh or to cry at the idea of this (possible) psychopath being almost in your own back yard. Maybe you'd even run into him at the store and not even known it.
The engine of your car sputtered out as you took your keys out and parked, your fingers tightening on the wheel as you stared out at the house in front of you. The address was exactly as he texted you. No errors, and no doubt about it. This was the place.
A normal, too normal, place. A residential neighborhood filled with cookie cutter houses and families alike.
Nothing about it screamed suspicious or intimidating or ‘likely a place you’ll be murdered’. Nothing about the neighborhood did, either. Plenty of normal people were out enjoying the early morning sun without the blistering heat of the day looming over them. They walked their dogs, chatted to one another, dug in their garden beds, all blissfully unaware of what was out there. They even waved to you, for Christ’s sake.
The quaint ranch style house settled in a cozy corner lot hardly seemed to be the kind of place where a man who knew of such horrors would live. It seemed like your average, basic, everyday house that you wouldn't think twice about; a house that blended in and was as in-line as the community surrounding it. A house where you just may meet your end.
Taking a deep breath, you let the air fill your lungs til it ached before you steadily exhaled to calm your frazzled nerves. Every lingering doubt and second guess was pushed to the corner of your mind. You’d come this far already. Okay. You’ve got this. In and out. If you could make it through the building and out with that… thing existing, you can go up to the door.
The dull thud of your car door shutting behind you sealed your fate as you steeled your nerves and approached. Graveled pebbles and stones alike crunched underneath your shoes as you strode up to the door. A river rock lined flowerbed dotted with daisies, red carnations, yellow pansies, and poppies wrapped around the front in a cheery garden that swayed blissfully in the light breeze. Bright, delicate petals dappled with dew sparkled brilliantly, so bright, so unaware of the world that you had found yourself in. They stood in stark contrast to the building dread that gnawed at your sanity, a polar opposite to what you'd seen.
Wooden planks creaked underneath your weight as you stepped up onto the tiny porch, moving even closer. With one final steady inhale, you rang the doorbell. The merry chime might as well be your death bell tolling.
Stepping back, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt as the shuffling inside began. Each small thump and pad closer matched a beat in your heart. Your breath hitched slightly as your hands grew clammy, the steps getting closer and closer, yet staying so far away inside all the same. Every tick of a second passing added another layer to your anxious anticipation as millions of questions ran through your mind. Was this a mistake? Was this really the right house? Did he know what was there in that building? Is that why he sent you?
All thoughts sputtered to a halt the moment the door swung open, creaking on its hinges, and you were greeted with a sight you never expected to see.
"Mystery man" was nothing short of classically handsome. You’d expected some batty old geezer with spectacles that made his eyes seem like full moons who wore his shoes backwards and smelled like old potpourri. Yet John, as he stood, was the furthest thing from it. A strong stubbled jaw, eyes as blue as the Circassian sea, and a grown out mohawk that curled on the top seemed more befitting of someone you'd see in a modeling catalog, not someone who would be tracked down by a poster haphazardly stapled to a telephone pole. Blinking in sheer, utter surprise, you nearly didn’t catch the words flying out of his mouth.
“-come in, then. No use in waiting out here. The lawn doesn’t deserve to be gifted my AC.”
Caught in your stupor, anything you had to say about not stepping foot in stranger’s houses or protest of “no really, I’m fine out here” died in your throat. A mute nod was all you could muster as you stepped in with tense reluctance, leaving your shoes on because you half expected to run out of there screaming anyways.
It is only when he held the door open for you that you realized the gap in the sleeve of his shirt. He was missing his left arm. All lessons about not staring at strangers, especially strangers who looked any bit different, that had been drilled in your head since you were a young kid (and were common sense and empathy, really) went right out the window as you couldn’t help but to look - you're not sure at what exactly, all of him was equally distracting. The whole ‘not being a batshit insane old man’ still hadn’t quite registered fully either and still rattled around in your skull. Or maybe it was the fact that he was unexpectedly attractive enough to make you forget the nerves that held you hostage the night before.
His eyes shone with a knowing gleam as he gave a lopsided grin, “I know, bonnie. The smile is… disarming.”
If you weren’t so caught up in the familiar heat of a blush rising to dust your cheeks a rosy hue, the pun wouldn’t have gone over your head for the first few awkward seconds. That was a thoroughly terrible joke. Much like this whole situation.
When it registered, the words slowly sinking into your brain instead of going in one ear and out the other, the warm blush only doubled as you half-heartedly chuckled. Like a deer in the headlights, you didn't know quite what to do now that he caught you staring. Your brows furrowed as you cleared your throat and looked anywhere but at him as your blush darkened, the warm feeling of embarrassment embracing you like the old friend that it was.
Unphased (much to your relief), he didn’t seem to think twice about it or read into the tension held in your frame as he led you into the house as unbothered as could be like this was a normal Sunday morning for him. Your limbs were on autopilot as you trailed at his heels, following him further in against better thought. A pungent, sterile whiff of rubbing alcohol and bleach caused you to wrinkle your nose as you passed into the kitchen but you snorted and pushed that aside. At least he liked to keep things clean.
Despite the cozy exterior, the inside more closely matched a modern museum in furnishings. Though the walls bore warm, flowery wallpaper and the appliances similarly outdated - nothing donned them. Every bit of furniture you set eyes on, from the couch to the tables and chairs, were sleek, cheap, and modern; as if everything had been bought in a rush and assembled in a weekend.
None of it fit with each other. All items stood mismatched in the same bland basic style that didn't remotely blend with the warm, earthy tones of the wooden accents of the floor and moldings alike. The feeling of unease crept up along your spine once more despite his welcoming presence, whispering in your ear about how you should probably hurry up and get out of here.
Like everything else though, it seemed fate wasn’t on your side. He pulled out a chair - John, you repeated his name to yourself, pulled out a chair and nodded for you to sit as he busied himself in the outdated kitchen. You watched as he buzzed around, moving pots and pans with seemingly little purpose or agenda aside from moving.
Once again, it didn’t register that he was talking until he was half-way through a sentence as he spoke a mile a minute. How fast he talked certainly didn’t help and your theory of him being easier to understand in person was only minimally true. Every bit of concentration you had went into straining your ears as you watched his lips, trying to figure out what he was saying.
“- so I’m sorry ‘bout the mess.” You weren’t even sure what mess he was talking about as there hardly seemed to be a speck of dust around, “Didn’t exactly expect someone…” He paused for a split second, nearly too fast to notice, “To take up on it and so fast.”
He finished polishing down the already spotless countertops, tossed the paper towel away, and headed back towards the table. Pulling out the chair beside you, he sat himself down. That bright, award winning smile back on his face beamed warmer than the early morning light streaming through the windows. “Now… best be on with it. Show me what you got.”
His unblinking eyes followed your movements, as your fingers jammed over your bag’s zipper. The intense stare didn’t ease your nerves one bit nor did it let up. Nevertheless after some awkward fumbling, you set the photo down on the table, pushing it towards him and the clipboard you had swiped too. You didn’t dare breathe a word about the thing you got a picture of. That was up to his own discretion and if he questioned, it would be his funeral.
With how nearly normal he seemed in person, he likely didn’t expect to see something like that. Sure he was a bit eccentric and things weren’t quite adding up, but showing a person a creature born of the abyss as casually as you might show them a picture of a flower you saw on a walk one day usually wouldn't elicit a great reaction.
Snapping up the clipboard the moment you placed it down with a motion so fast you jolted back, his bright blues frantically scrolled from smudged word to word. He didn’t say anything for a few, long moments as his eyes darted back and forth, his one hand near trembling as he grasped it. Silence reigned supreme as you sat on the edge of your chair, watching him with increasing unease. The turmoil only grew as he set the clipboard down and picked the picture up, bringing it closer to his face to study.
Nervous was an understatement to describe how fast your heart beat. Struggling to swallow, it was like sand clogged your mouth and lead had been poured in your stomach. Your nails dug into the soft flesh of your palms as you squeezed your hands together, trying to remain calm. Would he think it’s a joke? A prank? Photoshop gone wrong? Demand you get out and rob you of the money you so deserved? It was hard to tell the emotions going on behind his once expressive face as it drew into a contemplative line, the bags underneath his eyes that you hadn’t noticed prior seeming more pronounced.
An instant later though, he snapped back to the smile all too fast. Much to your joy, he didn't bring it up or think twice. But he smiled, a grin that didn't quite reach his sunken eyes. “Aye, that’ll do nicely. I’ll be right back with your money.”
Good, you thought. Breathing a sigh of relief to yourself, you watched with tired eyes as he stood up, taking the clipboard and picture to match along with him. He shuffled off, humming to himself, seemingly very pleased. And you simply stared at his retreating form. You didn’t know what to think about it, him, or any of this and you most certainly weren’t going to try to think too hard. Not when you were about to be out of here with money in hand and monster all forgotten.
In the other room, John moved at a leisurely pace as if he had all the time in the world. Nothing more than a slow shuffle as he whistled a tune too low to make out, the ruffle of papers flying and drawers opening and closing sounded through the thin walls.
Your fingers idly fidgeted with one another as you glanced around the stark home, trying to find something to distract yourself with. The contrast in the awkward environment reminded you much of John himself. Odd, to say the very least. There weren't any decorations or anything to note aside from the clash of it all. All of the furniture was brand new, cheap, but the bones of the house itself hadn’t been touched in years. There wasn’t anything personal - aside from a mangled wooden frame that caught your eye on the otherwise barren kitchen wall.
A lazy glance at the otherwise drab frame resulted in a double take. Two figures dressed in all black tactical gear stood side by side, illuminated by the blaze of a summer sun. Who you could guess was John, based on the bright grin and equally intense blue eyes, had his arm slung around a figure. A figure that caused your blood to run cold. In the same skull mask that you'd seen the cerberus, the mutant, was someone who bore a remarkable resemblance. An uncanny amount, as if they were twins.
Rising from your chair, your eyes widened as you took a closer look. The steady thump, thump, thump of your heart picked up bit by bit as things started to seem a bit too identical the longer you looked. The masked figure held nearly all the same gear you'd seen on the thing, albeit in significantly better shape. He had the same muscles and overall stature too. But instead of faded, opal eyes and too many limbs to match, it was a normal man with a cold, dark brown gaze.
“Not a bad picture of us.”
You jumped out of your skin as you whirled around with a suppressed yelp, your heart skipping a beat as you paled. John stood in front of you, so close you wondered how you didn't hear him sneaking up.
The forced, tense smile on his face didn't reach his wary gaze that drifted to the portrait. The contrast of bright teeth underscored by deep lines, etched into his face as his thousand yard stare drifted back to you made your hair stand on end.
“Uh… yeah…” You managed to stutter out as you choked down more of your nerves.
The lingering look he held on you dug in like thousands of knives, tearing you apart bit by bit, looking for a weakness. It made you squirm as you shifted from foot to foot, your teeth finding your inner lip the moment you sucked in a breath.
Gathering the confidence you finally asked, “So… the payment…”
You couldn't meet his gaze. Not when he was looking at you like that. An indiscernible, scrutinizing gaze that burned hot in your soul, as if he saw right through you and inter your mind.
There’s no way he didn’t know. There’s no way he doesn’t know that thing. There's no way he didn't know when he put that ad up.
And he knows that you know. Oh gods, he knew. You took the picture and were kind enough to pull that trigger yourself. You gave him the proof in a neat little glossy square and a clipboard alike.
Not a single word was spoken about it as he nodded, holding out a stark white envelope in his hand. “Sure, bonnie.” The eerie smile didn’t leave his face, nor did the unflinching stare.
Before you could take it though, he held it out of reach. Your brows furrowed as you looked at him in confusion. The tired, gaunt look in his face only seemed to deepen with the shadows as John leaned forwards, closing in on your personal space. Your hackles practically raised as you bristled, shuffling back a step that caused you to bump into the wall. The rattle of the frame was the only noise for those tense moments.
He didn't lean in nor did he cage you with his body, but you felt trapped, cornered, as he sighed. “You have every right to run and never speak of this again. But…” There always was a but, for fucks sake. Why couldn't he just pay you and let you leave?
You wanted to curse him out or at least do something vindictive and petty, and oh how you wanted to run. Yet you hesitated. For some, stupid reason you hesitated. The sheer tiredness etched all over his very being as he held your gaze tugged at something deep within you. He swallowed, forcing the smile to linger as much as he could.
“I need someone who won't ask questions. Someone who can help.”
Someone like you.
The silence between you spanned all too long as you simply stared, unsure of what to say or do. You didn't know exactly what he was asking you but you knew all the same. It has something to do with the thing in there. The thing he wasn’t outright acknowledging. The thing that both of you didn't dare say a word about but were talking about all the same.
“I'll pay you well. Name your number, I’ll have it. Please…” The last uttered syllable and the near pathetic look he gave you carved a like deeper into your heart than you care to admit.
Every word that fell from his lips was breathed out like a desperate prayer, a cry for help in a world that otherwise might not hear it. He was a man at wits end, a man who had no where else to turn. A man asking something of a stranger because there was no one else to ask.
It was your turn to study him as you held your breath, unable to tear your eyes away from the pitiful sight. The exhaustion radiating from him went beyond skin deep, deeper than the silvers of scars that littered his face. It set in his bones, the slight slump in his posture, ate away at all that he was, and consumed him in such a way he couldn’t hold the smile anymore nor did he bother to. The desperation was palpable as he glanced up at the picture, the only one there, once more for a second, before dropping his attention back to you and uttered a word so soft, it fell barely above a trembling whisper.
"Please."
You should've said no and run out. You should've put this nightmare behind you and never thought about the creature again. You should've told him he's utterly insane, especially to send you back to that thing and to ask you for help. You really should have. But since when did you make good choices?
When your eyes met his, you didn't say a word. But a simple barely-there nod cemented your fate and spoke more than any words ever could have.
જ⁀➴
The second the front door slammed shut as the new-found help hurried off in a scamper, Johnny collapsed onto the nearest chair. The littlest part of his heart left intact ached, feeling a bit bad for scaring the poor thing but the line of normality had long ago faded in the sands of time for him. There was no normal for a man damned by fate itself.
His chest heaved with shuddering, raspy breaths as his eyes misted. The weight of the world pressed down onto his shoulders for so long that he forgot what it was like to have an ounce of it lifted and replaced with a glimmer of hope. Hope. A word that tasted foreign on his tongue after it had evaded his clawing grasp for so long that he couldn't even remember the last time he had felt such a thing, always taunting him on the horizon of his periphery so close yet so far away.
His all too exhausted gaze went right back to the only picture on the wall - the very thing that haunted him every night but kept him going all the same. It always stood as a stark reminder of what had been, what should have been, and what he still should've had. As much as it ripped him apart, sent a harsh pang through his soul and plunged him into the icy depths of despair every time he thought about it, he couldn't forget. He couldn't let it go. Not when it's all he had.
For so long, he has clung to those desperate memories that still remained fresh in his tormented mind. Though faces changed and faded with time, though the words blurred, they never did when it came to the person who had understood him the most.
The person who he trusted with his life.
The person who he had failed.
Johnny didn't bother to wipe the tears that slid down his face. The crystalline drops marred his roughened, unkempt features even further. His chest heaved as he took a shuddering breath, blinking away enough tears to see the picture clearly; to see the man that he had lost.
He couldn't save Simon then. But now...
It's like the lights of heaven finally graced him for once. This was it. A second chance, the very thing he prayed for hours upon hours each night until his knees bruised on the wooden floors and his joints ached.
He was still alive in a way that mattered. And that was good enough for a man grasping at straws who had long ago given up any logical thought or reason. Such things didn't matter in manners of the heart and soul. The gaping maw of desperation and grief had swallowed him whole, torn him apart with its razor sharp teeth, and drowned him in the acids of madness before spitting him back up to wither away and rot.
But Johnny was a fighter. Nothing would stop him. Not even a challenge larger than life standing in the way with its scythe drawn and poised, ready for harvest.
Nothing.
"We'll have you back home, Simon." He breathed out to the portrait in a broken rasp, fingers rubbing over the tranished cross dangling from his neck.
"I promise."
💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀
Part two! I'm honestly so grateful and overwhelmed by how many people liked my little drabble, I hadn't expected much from my silly idea. I'm turning it into a series with many more chapters ahead!
Any feedback is welcome, appreciated, and encouraged. Thank you all so so much 😭
Next chapter we'll be back with our boy!
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thebadwitchr · 1 month ago
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Esse ano eu fui obrigada a ser o mais forte que eu pude, quando eu só queria viver em paz...
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vriendenboekjes · 1 year ago
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cut it out with till death do us part. i will find you in this life and reality and the next one and the next one and the next one
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