#and thus the emergency button was created just for him

[resvarie]

silly

[florestalio]

HUMAN, OR NOT? — p.sh

finding a job in the current state of the world was a hassle, but given your skills, it wasn't hard to find a decently paying job as a doorman. your job is to distinguish the doppelgangers from the real humans. simple enough, right? right?

GENRE— that's not my neighbour au, dystopian au, doppelganger au

WARNINGS— noncon/dubcon, mentions of killing, blood, guns, unprotected sex (please don't), big huge dick!sungho, monster fucking, meandom!sungho, implied munch!sungho, nicknames (slut, doll, princess, etc.), dacryphilia, fingering, manhandling, bondage, lot of slick (an almost concerning amount), marking (hickeys), cum eating (not oral), missionary, mating press, bulge kink, degradation, praise, possessive!sungho, let me know if I missed any!

WORDCOUNT— 6.9k

NOTE— i'm well aware that a similar fic has already been published by a different author, but mine was almost completely inspired by this video, so it's extremely different from the fic that had already been posted. this is a revamp of this enha fic.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

IN A WORLD WHICH WAS SLOWLY, but steadily getting overtaken by doppelgangers, finding a job is one of the hardest tasks — even if a lot of new jobs have been created for this purpose.

‘Doorman’, a post that was one of the more frowned upon jobs with a very low salary, had now become one of the most high paying jobs — since it was their skills and abilities that would determine whether the people in an apartment or complex lived or not. The job sounded fairly simple — figure out if the person wanting to enter is a human or a convincing doppelganger. Let only the humans in, get rid of the doppelgangers with the help of the D.D.D — another job created for the purpose of eradication of the doppelgangers from the world.

While the job of doormen did sound simple, it obviously wasn't that easy. Doppelgangers could be very convincing, their morphing abilities weren't a matter of joke. But, no matter how human they seemed, at the end of the day, they weren't human.

While detecting them could be very hard, doppelgangers… aren't the smartest tool in the shed. They always have some kind of imperfections, no matter how minor, in their appearances, in the way they behave — and many more. This is where doormen step in. They are skilled people with extremely sharp observation skills, which they use to figure out these imposters, and thus save the lives of a lot more people than they think they do.

You were one of these people with sharp observation skills that got chosen as a doorman of an apartment complex, situated near the suburbs. While you weren't getting a salary as high as the skies, it was still pretty high, considering that people from remote locations were impersonated a lot more than people from the cities, as these people are easier targets than them.

According to your job description, the old doorman was taking a long, well-deserved vacation. You were supposed to replace him for as long as he was on vacation, after which, you had no idea what would happen. Would your job be gone? Were you going to keep your job? Would you work alongside the old doorman? So many questions, yet they all remained unanswered.

You shook off those thoughts, focusing on the present. You looked around your new office, trying to make yourself familiar with your surroundings. Everything you needed as a doorman seemed to be exactly where you needed it; a telephone, checklists to grant entries, an entry list, records of all the people that lived in the building, their phone numbers, the D.D.D phone number, and whatnot. There was even an emergency button on the wall, which was attached with a metal partition that covered the window in front of the desk when activated.

The presence of all these faculties just made your work a lot easier. You took a seat, right in front of the desk. As soon as you sat down, the phone rang. You picked it up, only to hear a recorded message from the previous doorman. Turns out, his name was Taesan, and he had recorded it for you to listen to, since he didn’t wish for any mishaps to happen to you. As thoughtful as he was, he was also extremely repetitive. After several ‘do not let them in’-s, did the recording finally end, making you breathe out a sigh of relief.

Now comes the tough part. Doing your job.

IT WAS A QUARTER TO MIDNIGHT. After a hard day’s work of letting in the actual residents and calling the D.D.D upon the impersonators, the entry list had only two more people left. Namely, a businessman by the name of ‘Myung Jaehyun’ who lived alone in the third room on the first floor, and ‘Park Sungho’, the milkman who lived alone in the second room of the third floor.

Over the course of the day, you had seen doppelgangers of all kinds, some a lot better at impersonating than the other. There were several times when you had almost missed a sudden flash of an extra pair of arms, or different eye colors — as impressed as you were, you had immediately called the D.D.D on them.

Sometimes the doppelgangers looked completely, utterly, perfect copies of the person they were impersonating. Had it not been for a slight difference in their ID’s or entry requests, you would have probably let them in.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps alerted you. As you looked up, you were met with the face of Jaehyun. He gave you a half smile. “Sorry for bothering you this late, a client of mine was giving me a lot of trouble. Honestly, how is it my fault that the delivery was being delayed? Do they not realize that in the present situation, it is hard to navigate through the innumerous doppelgangers that are just waiting to pounce at any given moment of the day? It's truly very inconsiderate of–”

You interrupted his rambling. “Sir I require your ID in order to let you in. As you mentioned, it is already extremely late, so please, let’s not delay this any further.” You felt a little guilty for how you were acting towards him, but his rambling was taking up too much of your precious time.

His eyes immediately widened, before he started rummaging in his pockets. “Right — I'm really sorry, I'm not sure why I started to rant to you — here's my ID–”

You took a close look at the ID, trying to find any kind of faults in it. You heard him start to rant again. “—and honestly it was such a lovely day too, but this stupidly inconsiderate client had to ruin it.” You looked up at him, watching him continue to rant about the most random topics, which… didn’t really make any sense. “—so many ice cream trucks, but all of them had crashed into each other. The amount of people going up to those and stealing ice creams from them was actually insane–”

Suddenly you noticed something amiss on his face, protruding from his hat. Without missing a beat, you asked him. “Sir, what's that on your face?”

Jaehyun immediately stopped his rambling. “My face? Wh– What’s wrong with it? It– It's just a normal face!–”

Your hand started to creep towards the emergency button. “There are tiny hands on your face.”

Jaehyun panicked, watching you reach towards the emergency button. “Wait!– I have an explanation for this — see I was talking to this little girl called Rei right? So I called out to her ‘Hey Rei! Can you give me a hand with this?’ and she came and put her hands on my face! No wait don't–”

It was too late. You had already pushed the emergency button, watching the metal partition fall into place, blocking your view of him. You could hear the doppelganger wailing about how it was ‘a perfect disguise’. You quickly contacted the D.D.D, letting them know of the situation. Within five minutes you heard them arrive, screams of ‘get away from the door you filthy animal!’ and ‘but I don't wanna’ filled up the air, along with the sounds of guns going off, before it all went silent.

The partition suddenly went up again, a bloodied yellow hazmat suit with the D.D.D logo coming into your view. The person in the suit spoke. “Cleaning protocol has been completed. Please feel free to carry on with your job.”

You whispered a small thanks, watching them leave. It was almost midnight now, and you still had to let in two more of the apartment’s residents. It almost annoyed you, but this was in your job description when you had applied for it, so you had to suck it up.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps reached your ears again, along with a voice. “God, I'm so sorry for coming this late, Taesan, I swear I'll come earlier next time–” The voice stopped short, and so did your breath.

Good fucking gracious. You did look at the profiles of all the residents in the building, but none of them looked as good as Sungho did up close.

Sungho, a milkman by profession, was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Even with his tired eyes and exhausted appearance in general, he looked so fucking… ravishing.

He cleared his throat. “I'm so sorry, it's usually Taesan who sits here — are you new?”

You nodded, licking your lips nervously. “Yeah I am… Taesan went for a vacation, a long one apparently, so I'm here to replace him for the time being.”

He nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. Good thing he went for a vacation, god knows he needed one. We all need one, given the state of the world at present — how are you liking it at the new job? Is it giving you too much trouble?”

You shook your head. “Oh no, not at all — there were a lot of posers, but I handled them just fine. I think I'll be alright.”

“That's good. Oh, I remember my first experience with a doppelganger — it was almost terrifying. See, there was this — this woman, who lived here and… it was a very convincing disguise. The only thing wrong with her was that… there was a mole on her right cheek, except that it was supposed to be on the left side. When the D.D.D was called on her, she… kept screaming and screaming — all that just… it takes a toll on you. Not being able to recognise them, that is.”

You gulped, barely hearing what he was saying, too focused on the movement of his lips. “Yea… that's — yea, it's scary.”

He offered you a half smile. “It is. But what you're doing is important. You're saving a lot of lives this way, and that is all that matters. That's what is important.”

“Thank you — I appreciate that, I truly do.”

“You're welcome. I may not know you personally yet, but I can tell that you're an honest person. People like you… they tend to overthink these things. So always remember that… what you're doing is great. These doppelgangers are evil, and they deserve what they are getting.”

You gave him a grateful smile, once again thanking him for his kind words. He gave you one back. “Not a big deal… princess. Here's my ID… and my entry request.”

As you took his ID and his entry request, you froze, suddenly aware of the nickname that he used to refer to you. “P-Princess?–”

Sungho had a tiny smirk on his face this time. “Yea? Do you not like the nickname? I can stop–”

You were quick to deny it. “No I didn't mean — uhm — I do like it…”

An amused glint was present in his eye. “I see. So… are my documents in order, princess?”

You nodded, feeling heat creep up on your cheeks. “Yep, all good.” A sudden idea struck you. “Actually wait… there is something wrong.”

His smile vanished. “What?– Something's wrong?”

You nodded. “Yea… with your face.”

He raised a shaky hand to touch his face, something you missed. “M– My face? What's wrong with it?”

You smiled at him, your eyes twinkling with amusement. With as much cheesiness as you could muster in your voice, you replied. “Yea, it's called ‘handsomeness’.” You immediately cringed at yourself. What kind of a pathetic attempt at flirting was that?

However, it seemed to sway Sungho. He immediately blinked, before letting out a relieved grin, a faint blush coating his cheeks. “Oh?– You got me there. Thank you — you're extremely gorgeous too.”

Now it was your turn to feel shy. Your cheeks were aflame, heat creeping up your neck. Were you seriously flirting instead of doing your job? This late at night?

You shyly smiled at him, thanking him. He gave you another smile back, this one seeming a lot more cocky than the last. “Can I go now, pretty girl? Or do you have more tricks up your sleeve?”

You giggled a little, pressing the green button to let him in. “Nope! Go right in.”

He gave you a small smirk, tipping his hat towards you in the same manner a cowboy would, before disappearing through the door.

Around three minutes after Sungho went in, the sound of footsteps reached your ears again, only this time, it wasn’t exactly the sound of a person walking. It sounded like someone was running. Fast.

You heard the sound of panting, before… Sungho came into view. Only this time, he had blood all over him.

This was obviously a doppelganger, but before you could reach for the emergency button, the fake Sungho spoke. “Oh my fucking god — hey I’m guessing you’re new? Listen, this is really important. Did you see… me earlier?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. This was a new strategy. No doppelganger had used a strategy quite like this one earlier today. “Uh-huh.”

He banged on the glass partition with his fist, making you flinch. His eyes looked crazier than before. “I’m not playing around here. Did you or did you not see me earlier?”

Your hand quickly went to the emergency button. Noticing that, he started panicking. “No no no — don’t press that, just listen to me. I was knocked out — he stole my keys! — everything, he stole everything… even my face! Please tell me you didn’t let him in.”

Your hand hovered over the button, his words making you hesitate from pushing it. “I did let him in…”

His eyes widened. “Oh fuck — this is bad, this is bad, this is bad — listen, you have to call the D.D.D — right now. Do it! Call them right now!”

You gazed at him, conflicted. He sounded so… convincing. But so did the first Sungho. Which one of them was telling the truth?

You almost wanted to scoff at yourself. You were supposed to have some top tier observation skills to be able to figure out who is a doppelganger and who is not. So why was it so hard for you to tell in this case?

You didn’t even realize when your hand fell on the button, pressing it by accident. As the alarm bells sounded and the metal barrier began to fall, several shouts of ‘No!’ could be heard from the outside. You sat there rigidly, not even aware of when the door to your office opened, the person on the other side of the door slipping inside. It wasn’t until he put a hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch, when you realized that Sungho, the first one, was inside.

You relaxed for a moment, before he bent down, whispering in your ear, causing you to freeze. “You did a good job princess. Such a good job. Now continue to be a good girl and sit here quietly like a good fucking girl would, yea?”

As he spoke, the realization dawned upon you, the cold dread that came with it washing over you like a bucket of ice. The second Sungho was the real one.

As you sat there frozen, Sungho — or rather, the doppelganger — called up the D.D.D, informing them of a ‘doppelganger’ situation. Within five minutes, they had arrived, screams and sounds of gunshots once again filling up the air. Once they stopped, the metal partition opened, once again revealing a yellow hazmat suit stained with blood.

The D.D.D agent recited the same words that it did everytime, before walking away. As soon as the D.D.D had evacuated the building, ‘Sungho’ clicked the emergency button again, quickly pressing another button to deactivate the alarm bells, so that only the metal partition fell down. He gripped the handles of your chair, spinning it to make you face him. You gulped as you faced him, the sinister smirk on his face filled you up with a fear so intense, that it gripped you in an almost vice-like grip. It was terrifying — he was terrifying.

His eyes raked over you, drinking in your fearful expression. The shaking of your body, the pleading in your eyes, the nervous gulping — all of it filled him up with a foreign emotion — an emotion that made him want to devour you whole.

He lifted up a hand to your face, holding your chin between his fingers, leaning your face upwards. He himself leaned down, stopping just a breath away from your lips, causing your own breath to hitch. Whether it was from fear, or anticipation, he didn't know — not that it would change anything.

He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, maintaining eye contact with you. “Are you surprised? That I'm not who you thought I was?”

You gulped, too afraid to speak. Although the shaking of your eyes told him what he wanted to know.

He smirked lightly. “Does it make you feel angry? To know that you have been finally bested by a — what do you humans call us again? Ah, a ‘doppelganger’.”

‘Anger’ was the last thing you felt. Fear was all you felt — fear for both yourself, and everyone else whose life you had endangered. You were absolutely terrified, dreading your fate.

You had seen pictures of the real form of the doppelgangers — albeit just drawings; derivations from people who somehow lived to tell the tale. They were described to be completely monstrous, with yellow eyes and sharp teeth, greenish skin and huge claws that could easily rip anyone to shreds. It was only natural for you to feel terrified of your fate. Were you going to be torn to shreds by him? Or was he going to eat you? Do doppelgangers actually eat humans?

Turns out, he did plan on eating you. Devouring you actually. Just… not in the way you thought.

He traced his lip with his tongue, practically undressing you with his eyes. He was going to fucking ruin you.

He traced your lip with his thumb, forcing your mouth open. He pressed his thumb down on your tongue, watching the tears gather at your waterline and the saliva on your tongue. You were already so much fun to play with.

You wanted to cry, scream — anything to get out of this situation. You weren't trained for something like this — all the instructors just said “Catch them, or they catch you. If you're caught, consider yourself dead.” None of them ever prepared you for a situation like this.

You needed to use your own tactics, and you needed to use them fast. You stared at his eyes, trying to make sure your facial expressions didn't give away your thoughts, when suddenly, a brilliant — okay, not brilliant, but still better than nothing — idea struck you.

Your eyes suddenly fell on the door, your eyes widening slightly with a glimmer of hope. He frowned at your expression, looking backwards at the door as well, taking the bait.

You immediately pushed him off you, catching him off-guard, before quickly running to the door. But just as you were about to reach for the handle, you felt him grab your shoulder from behind, pulling you backwards in a not-so-gentle manner. He shoved you to the floor unceremoniously, causing you to scream from the impact — not that anyone would hear you, since the walls were soundproof as long as the metal partition was pulled down, and you had no way to reach the button to deactivate it.

You tried to get up, but were immediately shoved back down to the ground, with him climbing up on top of you, pinning your arms above your head. If looks could kill, you would have already been six feet under by now.

For a moment he just glared down at you, your lips quivering, your eyes shaking with unshed tears. Your chest was rising up and down erratically, downright terrified with what he was planning on doing to you. Was he going to strangle you to death? Tear you apart by hand? Break your neck? Or was he going to–

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by him. His voice was cold with a sinister undertone. “You know princess, I was going to be nice to you — go nice and slow, appreciate everything about you, take my time with you, make it memorable for you. But after this little stunt that you just pulled? I don't think you deserve kindness. If you want to be a fucking brat, acting like you weren't ready to spread your legs open for me just ten minutes ago, then I'm going to fucking treat you like one.”

Your blood ran cold. He was going to what?

You couldn't even understand where he was coming from. You were ‘acting like a brat’? Was trying to run in order to save your life a crime now? You were getting ready to ‘spread your legs for him just ten minutes ago’? First of all, it was some harmless flirting with a nice guy who you thought was human, not a fucking monster. So what the fuck was he even trying to say?

None of it mattered now — not now, when he was sliding the belt that was just there for design purposes through the hoops in your skirt. It didn't matter now, when he started to tie the belt around your wrists, ignorant to your struggles to break free. Not now, when he was grabbing the ends of your shirt, roughly shoving it up.

He couldn't shove it off you, since your hands were tied, so he proceeded to tear it off with his hands. It was an expensive shirt, but there wasn't any time to mourn the loss of your shirt — not when his hands had already moved to your skirt. He didn't even bother trying to get it off this time, simply ripping it apart like paper.

The tears finally broke free. This was it. This was your fate. You were going to get used like some pathetic doll by some monster and then tossed away once you were useless. Even death would have been a kinder fate than this.

You screwed your eyes shut when you felt him touch you over your panties, disgusted by yourself when you realized that you were, in fact, wet. You heard him let out a menacing chuckle, causing more tears to fall from your shut eyes. You felt his finger just barely trace over your covered cunt, making you squirm. He was quick to hold your legs down, before shoving a finger through your panties, causing it to stick inside your wet folds, drenching it further. You felt him leaning down towards your core, a whimper of utter despair leaving you.

He ignored you, taking a whiff of your scent. As soon as it hit him, he let out a loud groan, a quiet ‘fuck’ accompanying it. He definitely needed to eat you out, but first, he needed to stretch you out.

He gripped the waistband of your panties tightly, before ripping it off. The sound of the cotton material tearing brought a fresh batch of tears to your eyes. “P-Please — don’t do this, please–”

He quickly interrupted you by grabbing your throat, applying just enough pressure to cut off your oxygen. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t get to decide what I’ll do or not do. I gave you a chance, didn’t I? I was nice to you initially, wasn’t I? You clearly took advantage of that and tried to run, so why the fuck would I listen to you? If you don’t want to make matters worse for yourself, take what I give you like a good little slut would.”

That ruined whatever tiny hope you had of avoiding this fate. More tears fell from your eyes, causing you to bite down on your lip to conceal your sobs. For some reason, the sight of you biting your lip, paired with your tears, turned him on a lot more than it should have, causing him to grab your chin tightly.

Your eyes flew open in shock, releasing your lip from the abuse from your teeth. His eyes landed on your swollen lips, his pants growing tighter and tighter by the second. Before you could register what was happening, he smashed his lips on yours, swallowing your surprised gasp. He kissed you harshly, his movements sloppy. Saliva dripped past your mouths, smearing onto your chins, but he could care less.

He bit down on your lip, pulling it slightly with his teeth, causing a whimper to leave you involuntarily. He let out a quiet groan at the sound, before diving back inside your mouth, shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He hungrily explored your wet cavern, his hands moving to take his shirt off, the heat radiating off the two of you becoming unbearable. He grabbed your jaw tightly, tilting your head to kiss you deeper, his legs planted on either side of you.

Even if you didn’t want to enjoy it, any of it, your body couldn’t hide its true reaction. You kept letting out whimpers and moans, squirming under him. He gladly swallowed each and every sound of yours, little grunts and groans of his own leaving him. He badly wanted to grind down on you, but he had enough self control to not do that. Instead, he slid a hand down, collected the slick that kept gushing out on his fingers, before shoving his middle finger inside.

Your reaction was immediate. You let out a sharp gasp into his mouth, your hips bucking up into his. He bit down your lip at your reaction, breaking the skin and drawing out blood. He plunged his finger in deeper, feeling even more slick gushing out of you. He sucked the blood off your lip, licking the cut, moaning at the taste. Your blood ignited a fire inside him, the heat spreading to every part of him, the need to completely, utterly, ruin you for everyone else spreading to his finger tips, taking over his brain. He thrust his finger impossibly deeper, before pulling it out, causing you to let out a desperate whine into his mouth, one that was quickly replaced by a shocked moan when he plunged in two fingers at once.

You could feel your cunt stretching to accommodate his fingers, which were long and slender, allowing him to reach parts of you that no one ever did. His fingers dragged across your walls, allowing you to feel every inch of them. His fingers hit every ridge and bump perfectly, making you clench around them tightly.

He felt your pussy walls hugging his fingers, causing him to fasten up the pace of both his fingers and his mouth, swallowing up your whimpers, listening to the wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of your cunt.

He curled up his fingers, feeling your entire body shake under him. He let out a victorious smirk against your lips, having finally found your spot. He increased the pace of his fingers, making sure to curl up his fingers every time, hitting that spongy part in your walls every time with ease.

Your breathing sped up, your whimpers increasing, your wrists becoming red from how much you were struggling to get out of the tight grip of your belt wrapped around them. You could feel yourself becoming wetter and wetter, yet being so far from the edge. Something was missing, something that you desperately needed to finally teeter off the edge.

Even if you couldn’t understand what exactly you needed, ‘Sungho’ sure did. He broke the kiss, taking in the sight of your bruised and swollen lips, before shifting his attention to your neck, immediately latching his lips on your pulse point, sucking on it harshly. He pumped his fingers into your pussy faster, his thumb moving to rub at your clit harshly. You almost screamed at the added pleasure, your walls clamping down on his fingers in a vice-like grip.

Within seconds your pussy started to convulse around his fingers. Your release gushed out of you in huge amounts, coating his fingers in a creamy white. He helped you ride out your high, shallowly pumping his fingers in you. He stopped sucking on your neck, looking at the newly formed purplish hickey on it proudly. Once you came down from your high, he slipped his fingers out with a wet ‘pop’, watching your walls flutter around nothing.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, slipping them inside, tasting your release. You watched him with hooded eyes, your chest rising up and down slowly as you tried to catch your breath. His eyes screwed shut when the taste hit him, a deep groan leaving him, one that traveled straight to your core, despite having just had one of the best orgasms of your life.

He opened his eyes, his gaze darker than before, making you gulp. He leaned down again, maintaining eye contact with you. He ran a hand through your hair, before gripping it tightly, ripping a whimper out of you. He bit his lips, whispering “God, you drive me fucking crazy” before smashing his lips onto yours. He shoved his tongue inside your mouth almost immediately, making you taste yourself.

Fuck, he would be lying if he said he wasn't dying to eat you out, but the problem in his pants would probably kill him before he had his fill of you — which was why he was furiously trying to get his stupid belt off, something which proved to be quite a challenge for no apparent reason.

When he finally managed to get it off, he threw it away somewhere in the room, out of reach. His shirt was sticking to his skin uncomfortably from how much he was sweating, so obviously that had to go too. Once it was off, he quickly shimmied out of his pants, his boxers quickly following them.

As soon as his boxers were off, his bare cock slapped on his stomach, standing tall and proud. His mushroom tip was an angry shade of red, leaking a generous amount of precum. He was both long and girthy, almost ridiculously so, making you a little concerned about the stretch — or if it would at all fit.

Of course you were anticipating it — how could you not? Yes, he was taking you without consent, but did that really matter anymore? Your morals were thrown out of the window the moment he shoved his pretty fingers into your hole. You couldn't help how much you were leaking for him then, and you certainly can't help it now. You were practically gushing down there, a puddle of your sweet slick starting to form in between your thighs. God, it was a miracle that he hadn't started eating you out like a starved man eating his first meal in days. But then again, he also couldn't wait to finally sink into your wet heat, and fuck you till all you could think about was his dick.

So that's what he did. He spread your legs further apart with his knees, settling down between them. He aligned himself with your entrance, but instead of directly pushing in, he decided to toy with you a little. After all, you were just a toy for him, weren't you? The perfect little toy — a doll if you will — for him to use, break, destroy and dispose of as he wishes.

A little whine from you caught his ears. He looked at your face, almost taken aback by your expression. Your eyes were hooded, lips swollen and glistening from your sweat — possibly a result of you biting down on them. Were you… enjoying this? Did you want this?

It was hot, so undeniably hot of you to like this — not just your body, but you. There was no fucking way he was ever going to let go of you now — no, you were too perfect to lose.

He swallowed thickly, trying his best to subdue his desire of immediately plunging inside you and railing you into your next life. No, he had to be patient, in order to make it fun for him.

He tapped the head of his cock on your clit, watching even more slick pour out of you, joining the puddle on the floor. It was truly magnificent how much your body craved this — how much you craved it — almost as much as he did.

He rubbed his tip over your slit, gathering the slick from it, ripping out pitiful whimpers from you. He almost caved in to your sinful sounds — almost — before continuing to gather your slick on his mushroom tip.

He watched as your slick and his precum mixed together, forming a beautiful white mixture, something that looked almost delicious — of course he had to taste it, and make you taste it as well. You would like it anyways.

He gathered some of the mixture on his fingers, before popping them in his mouth. He closed his eyes, savoring the sinful taste. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see how much the taste affected his body, even more precum having dribbled out of his tip, falling into the puddle of your slick.

He swirled his finger in the mixture, before bringing it to your own mouth. He watched as you eagerly wrapped your lips around his digits, sucking the mixture of your wants greedily. He let out a groan, wondering if you would suck his cock the same way. But he had plenty of time to find that out later.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’, ignoring your whine. He pushed his hand into the puddle of your slick, before wrapping the same hand around his ridiculously large dick, slowly pumping it. His eyes were dark as he maintained eye contact with you, taking in the way you gulped slowly. It was so cute, the way you wanted it as much as he did, and yet were afraid of it actually happening.

If he stared at your cute little lips or your pretty little eyes that were filled with both hesitation and desperation, he would definitely cum even before he had the chance to be inside your — by the looks of it, extremely tight walls.

He grabbed your legs again, spreading them even further apart, before slowly starting to push into you. He was immediately met with a lot of resistance from you, loud gasps and whimpers falling from your lips in a beautiful melody, your pussy walls clamping down tightly on his tip alone. He hissed at the pressure, gripping your hips tightly as he slowly started to push in.

The sounds of your whimpers and choked gasps increased two-fold, your walls stretching to an alarming extent as they tried to fit him. You were well aware that the ‘Sungho’ that was fucking you wasn't the real one, that he was a monster — but you didn't realise that doppelgangers were this hung. He was big, huge even — way bigger than the average dick size. It felt like he was splitting apart your insides, but you couldn't deny the enormous amount of pleasure that accompanied the pain.

He had to suck in a breath when he had finally buried himself to the hilt inside you, your walls clamping down on him painfully. It almost felt like he willingly buried himself into a dick guillotine, that’s how tight you felt around him. It wasn’t like he could blame you either — he wasn’t human, even if he was impersonating one, all of his physical features were obviously not perfect. As for him, his imperfection happened to be his dick, which was way larger than the average human dick, almost monstrously so — not that he was complaining… and he knew you wouldn’t be either in a while, once you got used to his size.

His grip on your hips was tight enough to bruise, as he slowly pulled out almost completely, leaving only his tip inside, making you let out a sigh of relief. But that relief was short lived, because he almost immediately slammed himself back in, knocking the air out of you. It felt as if he somehow managed to fit another non-existent inch inside of you.

The squelching sound from the slide however, encouraged him to continue. You were liking it, he knew you were. That’s why you were getting even wetter than before, weren’t you? Yep, that was it. That was why your walls were clamping down on him so tightly. Your body didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop.

He pulled out almost completely again, before ruthlessly slamming right back in, ripping a scream out of you. But the slick that kept pouring out of you, past his cock, told him all that he needed to know. He thrusted into you mercilessly, without caring about how you felt — he knew you liked it, he was sure of it–

Your loud whimpers of pain broke him out of his daze. “P– Please, it h– hurts so much–”

His hand grabbed your neck, squeezing down on it as a warning. “Don’t fucking lie to me — you’re leaking past my cock, and you expect me to believe that you aren’t enjoying this? Stupid, fucking slut, lying to me to my face? Absolutely pathetic.”

He grabbed both of your thighs, pushing them up to your chest, before starting to thrust into you again, the ruthless pace of his hips almost bruising your thighs. The new angle allowed him to hit even deeper, your cries of pain only increasing in volume. He ignored them, focusing on how his hips snapped into yours with every thrust. “Fucking take it — you know you like this, you fucking painslut. It hurts, does it? How adorable, you fucking love it, you know you do.”

He continued to ram his hips into yours, uncaring of your discomfort — unbeknownst to you, your cries only caused him to grow harder, his cock bulging through your stomach. The bulge on your stomach appearing and disappearing inside you caught his attention, causing him to groan. He fisted your hair tightly in his hand, pulling you up. “Look at that, princess, look at it — look at how I keep disappearing inside you. Fucking perfect for me, aren’t you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, continuing to slam his hips into yours. He let go of your hair, pressing down on the bulge in your stomach instead. The added pressure caused him to groan, his pace increasing. Your slick made it easy for him to pound into you, your cries having started to turn into loud moans. He found it almost cute, your switch up.

He pushed your thighs up higher against your chest, his hips snapping painfully into yours, balls slapping on your ass with every thrust. It felt so fucking wrong, but even you couldn’t deny how good it felt. “I’m gonna fill you up, till my cum is dripping past your legs — gonna make you walk around like that. You would love that, wouldn’t you? Walking around with my cum dripping down your legs like a fucking slut?”

If the way you clenched around him at his words wasn’t a dead giveaway to whether you liked what he was doing or not, then he didn’t know what else could possibly be it. He increased his pace. “Yea? You like that? You want that? You’re my precious little cumslut, aren’t you? My sweet little doll, so eager to be filled up to the brim.”

He brought a hand down to your clit, rubbing it harshly. The added pleasure sent shockwaves to your brain, your back arching, eyes rolling back. You could feel the coil in your stomach continue to tighten, the harsh pace of his assault on your clit only making the coil tighter and tighter.

He suddenly pinched your clit harshly, the sudden sensation causing you to let out a choked gasp. The coil in your stomach finally snapped, causing you to gush around him. He groaned at the feeling, your walls clamping around him, triggering his own release. He buried himself deep inside you, spurts of cum sprouting from him, slowly filling her up to the brim. He gripped your hips tightly. “Take it, take all of it, fucking take it — you’re mine to fuck, mine to breed, no matter when I see fit. So fucking take it–”

He kept on and on cumming, your walls clamping around him, milking him dry. He hissed, pulling out his softening length. It was so hot, the way his cum dripped out of your hole. It was the perfect time to eat you out, but that had to wait.

He grabbed your hands, finally undoing the belt on them. As soon as you were free from the restraints, you tried to flex your wrists, to fix the blood flow. He smirked at your antics. He grabbed your chin tightly, making you face him. “Listen up sweetheart — from now onwards, you do what I say. If I tell you to stay, you will stay. If I tell you to sit and look pretty, you will sit and look pretty. Got it?”

You gulped thickly. You were absolutely terrified of him. Why shouldn’t you be? Given what he had done to you, you would have no other choice but to obey him.

So you nodded. Albeit hesitantly.

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing another hungry kiss to your lips. He whispered against them. “Good girl — my good girl”

[procreate02]

Unleashing Creativity with Digital Tools

Vibrant and always present, graffiti has developed from the streets to become a mainstay of modern art galleries. Leading illustration app Procreate has emerged as a crucial forum for graffiti artists as digital tools change the way they express themselves. This change in graffiti creation and appreciation from spray cans to stylus pens is a big deal.

 

The Transition to Digital Graffiti

Since graffiti artists have always worked with real places and materials, they have frequently had to negotiate the legal lines between public and private property. For these painters, though, the advent of digital platforms likeﾠProcreate Graffiti Brushesﾠhas created new possibilities. Artists may explore different styles and methods without the limitations of traditional graffiti by employing digital brushes made especially for graffiti.

 

The Evolution of Graffiti Brushes for Procreate

Artist interaction with Procreate has changed dramatically thanks to digital brushes. Though with more control and adaptability, these instruments imitate the pressure, angle, and movement of a real spray can. When artists vary line weight, opacity, and roughness, fine details and vivid color combinations that were difficult to accomplish on hard concrete surfaces become possible.

 

The Benefits of Digital Graffiti

Not available on a stone wall, the undo button is one of the biggest benefits of using digital tools for graffiti. Just one aspect has made experimenting easier and pushed artists to take chances with their work. Digital graffiti is also not geographically constrained; with a single click, artists may share their work with a larger audience than ever before.

 

Integrating Traditional Techniques with Modern Technology

Graffiti is still fundamentally a traditional art form, even if modern technologies provide flexibility and ease. Like Bakeroner, a lot of digital graffiti artists start their designs with sketches that capture the candid, impromptu character of street painting. Because of the way that old-school methods and contemporary technologies are combined, each item is both inventive and nostalgic.

 

Bakeroner: A Pioneer in Digital Graffiti

A love that started in his school years, Bakeroner has always been enthralled by letters. Gritty lyrics from local rap music and the vibrant graffiti featured in youth magazines inspired his interest in graffiti. As he entered the realm of digital graffiti, Bakeroner welcomed ProcreateﾠGraffiti Brushes for Procreate, which enabled him to combine traditional graffiti with digital media, thus extending his artistic expression.

His work explores fresh opportunities with digital art while nevertheless respecting the traditional aesthetics of graffiti. By taking this tack, he has expanded his creative horizons and opened doors for upcoming artists to investigate digital graffiti.

 

Conclusion

The specialist Graffiti Brushes for Procreate that bakeroner.com offers is the ideal starting point for artists motivated by Bakeroner's adventure and wishing to investigate digital graffiti. These brushes allow both new and seasoned artists to produce magnificent, colorful works that push the limits of what graffiti can be by bridging the gap between conventional graffiti and digital art. Future directions should see the combination of technology and conventional art forms open up previously unheard-of creative opportunities.

[brazenautomaton]

you can pair a Devil Hunter and a Style or a Devil Hunter and another Devil Hunter. All of them can add more colors if you want, you don't have to pick a Style of the same color as your Commander. That's the whole point, so you can really customize it.

Starts at D.

You know what, I had it at 3, and I don't remember why I changed it to 2, but I will change it back.

ETB cost means "there is no window of time between paying the cost and the thing entering the battlefield. even if you cheated it into play, you have to phase out a legendary creature. if you can't do that, then it doesn't enter." you're allowed to be less precise in reminder text, see: Enlist referencing summoning sickness which is not actually a rules term. Also since it doesn't target, they can respond to kill whoever you were going to save with your DT, but you can transform another creature if you have another legendary on the battlefield.

You think so? I mean it is impossible to remove only if you're bleeding yourself to death. And for a Commander deck aggro creatures have to be really, really good. The only other formats would be Legacy and Pauper, and while Death's Shadow would like this, I don't think it would really make a splash in Legacy given what else that deck has. I'll shift it to uncommon, though.

Jester blocks one guy, he can't tap to stop someone from attacking him that turn (since they already did), I don't think he's really more powerful than other goad-enablers.

(already) means "You can't copy the copy you made, since the thing it targets doesn't exist yet and thus you do not already control it." She used to be able to copy multiple times for two mana, and it was redonkulous. Auras are the primary use case, and as implied by the Bestow creatures in her colors also from DMC4, she can copy Bestows to get a token with the Bestowed aura. But the kind of thing Zada likes in terms of "single target spells that get something else neat not directly related to that creature" will also be good for her, though not nearly as degenerate, and she can copy Credo's trigger to make 1/1 shielded guys or copy Agnus's ability to proliferate twice.

I didn't think it was a pie break since it was specifically only for creatures you already had on the battlefield. You still can't bring out something surprising.

So you can't stick your nose in a combat that doesn't involve you, which would make the board math way more complicated.

That is the idea!

He's supposed to be paired with Nico, that's what his precon deck will be -- Nico is the one who builds all his gear in DMC5.

Yeah, because every Empower is someone's Devil Trigger / super mode, Nico's has to be her van, but she's the one driving it so it just is always crewed. Oh, you know what, I can actually give it a crew ability, and then make it get something every time it's crewed, so the more people pile in the more it does.

You can cast it from exile no matter how it got there. It's like Misthollow Griffin. You can also reanimate it, and probably should. V's ability makes it very easy, since V can exile Nightmare to an escape cost; Nightmare is V's ultimate summon and they're designed to work well together but you don't strictly need V to us it.

Good point, I'll change

Do you think it should be changed? Because of the Stylish Ranks, and how you can lose 1 every combat, when you are doing well you will draw a lot of attacks, so you need some really good emergency block buttons.

Karn doesn't let people drive because he's a narc

Just like any other "can't be" effect. If a card effect or SBA says to do something to a creature, and another effect says that thing can't happen, it doesn't happen. It's like Indestructible creatures staying out while they have lethal damage. It doesn't even create an infinite loop like Bog Serpent and Assault Suit: a creature with negative toughness tries to go to the graveyard as a SBA, True Power stops it, SBAs did not cause anything to change, so priority goes to the next player. SBAs will try and fail to kill creatures with 0 toughness or lethal damage after every single action for the rest of the turn, but won't hold up the game. (They used this in the Theros boss battle against Xenagos, it wasn't an official card but it does work in the rules.)

"And he's got that! And that is the end of -- OHHHHHHHHHHH! God Dammit!"

Stylish Ranks say (once per player per combat), first strike and double strike won't double-dip. Multiple attack phases will, though.

yay, I'm glad you're interested, I will post it when I finish them!

the problem of course is there isn't any goddamn deck builder that lets you use custom cards and also allows you to do tyhings like "sort by card type / mana value" that deck builders do, even if just for real cards. tappedout.net has the ability to add custom cards to a deck but what they fail to mention is that once you do, that deck cannot be edited in any way until you take all of them out since it causes errors.

edit: also Quicksilver Style is overcosted because it is a command zone counterspell. same for Royalguard Style.

an entire 125-card set, with new mechanics (Stylish Ranks and Empower, which is a "fixed" Champion), Battles, Sagas, co-op partners, and the goddamn enemy color tango lands why have you not made those yet.

I'll be making up actual deck lists next, using these cards and existing cards to make 100-card preconstructed decks.

[shiny-jr]

I LOVE THE HEATHERS AU!! Do you have plans for the other TWST boys as well or will you be keeping it around the ones you just wrote? Also, where is Grim?

Sorry if I'm bombarding you with too much questions. If the AU is still in it's early stages, feel free to ignore this!

- a lurking gremlin anon

Thank you, anon! I don't really have any particular ideas for the other characters, since there aren't a lot of characters in Heathers. Plus having so many students involved in the story would make things chaotic and too busy, thus hard to write. So I'll be keeping it to the ones I wrote and established already (no Grim), but I have imagined some of the other characters in the same setting too. Here's a few descriptions I came up with for some characters that aren't included. 

Cater Diamond, local fan of Vil Schoenheit and friend of Rook Hunt. He's a member of the yearbook committee and unlike some of the others, he isn't some cultish fan that worshipped Vil's trio. Cater is actually fairly fashionable, even if he couldn't always wear the high-quality clothes like the infamous clique, he could still look good in his own way. The photographer was often seen wearing a cute sweater usually with white jeans and a headband for his orange hair. And of course, a photographer like him couldn't catch photos and juicy moments without a camera hanging around his neck. Believe it or not, Cater is pretty friendly, even if he does have a habit of tricking newbies to do his tasks around the school. Don't tell him a secret though, because by the end of the day over half of the school will know it because of him.

Leona Kingscholar, head of the football team. Don't assume just because he's the leader of a bunch of dumb jocks that he's dumb too. Far from it actually. He's conniving and smart for someone of his position, and also creates strategies to lead his team to victory. If it weren't for Vil and his clique, Leona and his gang would surely take the crown for top of the hierarchy. When not wearing a varsity jacket, he prefers to wear a denim jacket or a black leather jacket over either a plain shirt or button-up. The most intricate thing about his outfit would be the colorful bandanas he wears for some control over his wild mane and the golden chain around his neck. Be wary of Leona, he certainly is not very friendly or forgiving, you don't want to mess with him at all for he's been in his own share of fights and he always emerges victorious.

Jack Howl, a rising star on the football team. He, a freshman like Ace and Deuce, was chosen for the team. Although even more than the two previously mentioned, he’s gaining a bigger reputation for his intense skills at athletics and never starting conflict. If there’s conflict with him, you can be sure he didn’t start it but he will definitely finish it. You can spot him from across the hall with that build and height. When not wearing the varsity jacket, he settles with a plain white shirt and either a leather jacket or bomber jacket over it. If you happen to see him during practice, he will have shed his jacket and just wear the white sleeveless shirt that reveal his toned arms. Yeah, his muscles aren’t just for show. Jack may just be a freshman but do not pick a fight with him. 

Azul Ashengrotto, another “nerd.” However, this nerd has more influence and power. Azul may be a nerd, but he’s certainly not bullied, he actually has a lot more power than most are willing to admit. He knows everyone’s business, he knows everything about everyone and uses this to his advantage. You would think that the skinny glasses-wearing guy wearing a freshly-ironed shirt with clean pants and suspenders, socks, and polished shoes would be an easy target to bully, but oh no. One wrong move and Azul will expose your dirtiest secrets. He uses this power to avoid being bullied and to gain favors and such. Yeah, he has students around campus doing odd jobs and chores and other strange tasks for him, just to avoid their secret getting out. So do not cross Azul. 

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Assassins

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

 The soft light of the morning dawn slowly filtered into the room through cracks between the lavish curtains. Streaks of light bounded off the polished gold detailing of the rooms furniture and made the room appear as if the very stars themselves had come to adorn themselves upon the walls. So bright were the reflections that it managed to find their way underneath several layers of bed sheets and directly into the face of ambassador Glifin.

Roused from his seemingly peaceful sleep Glifin slowly pushed off the sheets one by one and rolled to his feet. The loud thuds of his hooves touching the floor sent a shudder through the room as he stood and stretched out, his general grogginess slowly shaking off. With a loud yawn finally leaving his throat he rose and shambled over to his desk to begin his day’s work.

Tonight he was hosting a party honoring visiting royalty from his home world on Argon. The prince had decided he wanted to visit this miserable planet he had been stationed on, though why anyone would want to visit this world was beyond him.

Glifin’s posting on the human homeworld had been sold to him as a great honor but in reality it had been a means to keep him from continuing his political rise. On Argon he had been a senator whose mere whisper was enough to make generals and minor nobles quiver in fear. His star struck ascension didn’t go unnoticed however and just before he was to be elected into the office of Artock Supreme and reside over the entire senate the royal family had stepped in and given him the position of ambassador to humanity.

Within the spam of a solar month he was shipped off the throne world and sent to this backwater dump of a world; were he had to smile and feign sincerity to these miserable sacks of flesh all the while his political powerbase slowly began to crumble in the senate.

Now fully consumed by feelings of dread over his situation Glifin did not hear the sudden knock at the door. Only after several more knocks did Glifin look up from his paper work.

“Come in.”

The door slowly opened and Glifin’s aide Jafal walked in and bowed.

“My apologies for disturbing you at this early hour, but Mr. Robinson has arrived with your evening wear for tonight’s event.”

Glifin nodded and shuffled his papers back into his desk and locked it just as a new figure entered the room.

“Say what you want about Argonian fashion, but they do have such a wonderful sense of aesthetics when it comes to room decoration.”

A slim human emerged from the doorway pushing a small cart with a metal rod built in holding up two clothing bags.

“You have a problem with Argonian styles?” Glifin said as he rose to his feet and walked over to Robinson as he pulled out a tiny box device and casually threw it down on the floor. The moment of contact it sprung open and in an instance a large set of mirrors emerged from it giving an impressive view from all sides.

“Oh far be it for me to question ones culture, “ Robinson continued as he opened the first bag and stepped aside for Glifin to see the contents, “but some would consider the amount of dead mammals your people adorn on themselves to be a tad morbid.”

From the corner of his eye Glifin saw Jafal’s face redden from anger but with a motion from his ambassador kept his tongue still.

“I would find it surprising for a human to find anything morbid with the amount of toxins you willingly consume.”

Robinson flashed a brief smile and shrugged. “You do have me there; personally caffeine will most likely be the end of me one day, but we’re not here to talk about my eventual demise.”

“An end that will come much sooner if you continue to waste my time with idle chatter.”

Humanities incessant need for small talk and idle conversation was something Glifin had never come to terms with; and this human fashion designer was by far the worst example he had ever put up with. Part of him viewed it as a challenge to see how long he could endure before snapping the tiny man’s neck, and though such a moment would no doubt bring him great pleasure the other part of him realized that Robinsons work was well regarded among prominent members of society. Not just with other humans, but with other alien dignitaries who had embassies on the human homeworld. It had been surprisingly an ambassador from the Hive that had recommended the human’s services when it was suggested that Glifin update his style to match his new role.

Walking up to the first black bag that Robinson had opened Glifin inspected the wardrobe.

Inside was a finely trimmed suit of Rygonian Leaper fur of a dark blue with a sash of Haponi tongue and a dashing pair of pants metal grey Roller Worm hide.

It was custom in Argonian culture to wear the skin of that which you have killed, thus the outfit before him was a prime example Glifin’s traditions.

“A fine work indeed,” Glifin said as he ran his fingers across the material, feeling the roughness against his skin. “For a human” he finished as he turned and smirked at Robinson.

“With the effort it took to obtain the materials you requested I would say it is nothing less than an example a miracle performed before your very eyes.”

Glifin stopped his examination of the attire and looked at the human. “For a miracle you sound so…displeased with your work.”

Robinson crossed his arms for a moment and pouted as if considering his next words.

“My work is perfection, I can assure you, but a man in my trade is not just meant to listen to the specifications of their client but their intention as well.”

“And your point?” Glifin queried.

After a moment he outstretched his hand and casually gestured to the Argonian clothing. “Is this really the message you want to be sending?”

Glifin looked at the suit again then back at Robinson. “I don’t understand.”

“If you go to the event dressed like this it will send the message that you still value your traditions, but I worry that it shows a disconnect with your current situation; almost as if you are attempting to relive the past.”

“You would appear as an old war hero trapped in past glories that the other guests would acknowledge, but not make to engage in conversation.”

Glifin opened to rebuke the human but stopped himself as he pondered the man’s words. Robinson stepped forward to the other black case. “Now this,” Robinson said as he slowly pulled down the zipper revealing the contents, “this would make you not only the talk of the party, but would make you the talk of the after party all the way back to your homeworld were many people would no doubt be very much interested in your on goings.”

“Each piece has been designed by some of the most dangerous animals on this planet, and in some cases far more ravenous then anything back on your respectable homeworld.”

Robinson went about and pointed out the specific materials used one by one.

“The body is made from a powerful species that inhabits the various swamps and wetlands around the globe with jaws so powerful they could cut you in two with a single bite.”

“Each of the buttons along the coat are the fangs of the most poisonous reptilian creatures on the planet; each one capable of killing a human let alone an Argonia ten times over with a single drop of their venom.”

“Now the pants I am particularly proud of as they are the skin of the deadliest hunter of all the planets seas. They can smell fresh blood from miles away and commonly take on prey twice their size.”

Gliffin heard Robinson go through the list of creatures but his expression remained emotionless.

“Why would these creatures be any more interesting than my own worlds?”

Robinson smiled. “Because everyone from your world already knows about them and have hunted the same creatures for generations. Yet I would be so bold as to wager my humble shop that none of them have ever faced down the black eyed stare of a great white shark, nor wrestled the deadly crocodile demons of the swamps, and most certainly have been quick enough to pluck out the teeth of rattle snakes just as they lunge to strike.”

“Neither have I,” Gliffin said with a hint of disgust in his tone, “and you would make a liar out of me for saying so.”

“My dear ambassador, who but you could say what you do or don’t in your free time?”

Robinson leaned forward and whispered into Gliffin’s ear “I am no doubt sure many of your females would find the idea of a striking Argonian such as yourself sneaking off to go hunting the unknown for sport a rather attractive quality.”

Glifin looked at the new set of clothing and then back at the original set of traditional clothes. He went back and forth for several moments before finally settling his gaze on the traditional garments.

“Take these away.”

_______________________________________

The lights outside Robinson’s humble shop slowly went off one by one as he walked between the displays straightening out garments and folding tossed aside pieces customers had casually put aside when the door rang.

“I’m sorry but we are closed for the night.” Robinson said as he returned behind the counter with a stack of clothes.

The figure slowly approached the counter and took off their hat. Robinson looked up from the register to see the figure was a Rohanan; a species known for its gel like appearance yet could collect random bits and bobs to create a sudo skeleton and present themselves as humanoid.

“That’s alright,” the Rohanan said, “I am here to pay for a set I ordered for a….friend.”

“Then they are most fortunate to have a friend such as you then.”

Robinson’s smiling nature unnerved the Rohanan but nonetheless they placed a small envelope on the table and slid it across. Robinson placed a hand on it and tapped his fingers several times against the contents inside before opening it and spilling the credit chips on to the table.

“Is it satisfactory?” the Rohanan said, their nervousness building as the human finished counting the chips.

“Oh yes indeed; I believe you have paid in full for your order.” With a swipe of his hand the human pushed the chips back into the envelope and sealed it. “Always a pleasure to deal with such an honest and upstanding man such as yourself during such troubling times.”

Robinson leaned in towards the Rohanan, his expression shifting from smiling to one of mild concern. “I heard there was a most unfortunate incident up at the Argonian embassy several nights ago.”

“Several guests including the visiting prince and ambassador himself all died from poisoning.” The Rohanan confirmed.

“How gruesome!” Robinson said as he recoiled in shock and finished putting away the remaining clothes while he talked over his shoulder.

The Rohanan regarded the human for a moment before continuing. “The strangest thing was that the poison was not native to this world, but is most common in the Hagar system under Dovorian rule.”

“A most embarrassing situation I am sure considering the Dovorian and Argonian people despise each other.”

“Indeed; one might wonder how such a toxin came into contact with them.”

Robinson shrugged and turned as he finished placing the final shirt back into the display. “With all of those fangs, bones, and animal skins I would not be surprised if someone grabbed a tooth or two that hadn’t been fully drained of its contents.”

The Rohanan laughed and placed their hat back on their head just as they stopped at the door.

“You were worth every penny, assassin.”

“An assassin you say?” Robinson’s smile returned and he casually waved to the departing customer “You must have me mistaken for someone else, as I am but a simple tailor.”

[mythgirlimagines]

Rushing into your inbox is this week’s Talentswapped Myth! Please give a quick hello to Myth, the Former Ultimate Sprinter!

——————————————————-

BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Myth’s motivation for becoming a pro sprinter was a pretty simple reason. As the daughter of two accomplished marathon runners, running was practically in Myth’s blood, ever since she learned how to walk. Myth was regarded as a prodigy amongst the crowds, for her innate stamina and her skill at running. In fact, Myth is currently planning on running in the Olympics, after graduating Hope’s Peak and chaperoning the Ultimates and Jr. Ultimates. Extra Fact: Let’s just say that all that running caused Myth to become quite the looker, for she became famous around her school for her looks, charming the pants off both girls and boys. In fact, people sell candid pictures of a hot and sweaty Myth all around the school for money, only to get stopped by Myth’s overly protective childhood friend. All while Myth remains completely oblivious to that.

——————————————————-

RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Emergency Planner

Despite her reckless, headstrong and almost delinquent-like behavior, Wyre is praised amongst her peer group for being prepared for any situation, whether environmental or medical. As the childhood friend of the simpleminded and scatterbrained Myth, Wyre is always one step behind her, making sure that Myth doesn’t get herself into any harm. Wyre is basically the Akaashi to Myth‘s Bokuto. Wyre also scares off people from Myth’s school who want to take candid pictures of a sweaty and undressing Myth and sell them for money in the school’s unofficial underground market, much to the confusion of the ditzy track star. Outfit: A construction hat on her head, a dark grey sleeveless parka over a red button-up shirt, a tool belt with a care kit for everybody and every occasion, blue jeans, brown steel toed boots and matching gloves, intact glasses.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Sharpshooter

Claiming to be cursed by an ancient parasitic spirit that inserted itself into her left eye, Anon Scar was nicknamed by the people of the shooting range she frequents as “Black Bullseye”, which obviously came from the skill she shows when she is in the booths of said shooting range. Acting like an old and grizzled war veteran and constantly speaking of “The Old War”, needless to say, Myth bought into Scar‘s chuuni act, much to the embarrassment of the sharpshooter. As Myth eventually figured out, Scar acts a lot like a mother to the more reckless and childish members of the Kibo-Con roster, but Myth especially.    Outfit: An black eyepatch on her left eye and a green military-esque uniform with black gloves and boots.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Gardener

Fusion made worldwide news thanks to the large grove of fruit trees and bushes that he managed to cultivate all by himself, which was a massive turnaround from the dry and sparse farmland that his grandparents abandoned. Fusion views the trees and plants that he grew almost like his children, and he applies the same philosophy to his conmates, much like Scar. It could be said that Fusion basically adopted Myth, along with the rest of the con. If Myth ever gets hungry while on a run, Fusion is always right by her side with some fresh and delicious fruit on hand. Myth regularly likes to go for nature runs through Fusion’s giant garden.

Outfit: A red turtleneck sweater, blue overalls, green rainboots and gloves, a blue bandana around his neck with small yellow sunflowers all over, flowers in his large afro, glasses from original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Finder

Being famed around her school for her cool and rebellious attitude and her ability to find objects that her schoolmates lost, she was nicknamed “Sherlock Jr.” by her peers. Eventually, Fusion II started her own business, helping the citizens of her hometown find lost objects and even pets and children. But much to Fusion II’s dismay, her cool facade is constantly undermined by her nerdy side and her love for memes. Because Myth loses things all the time, Myth regularly and tearfully turns to Fusion II to help find them. And with the finding of the lost items, came praise from Myth and an ego boost for Fusion II.

Outfit: A dark blue fedora that casts shade over her eyes, a matching trench coat over a long white dress and black heeled boots.

Just Anon, Ultimate Screenwriter

If you were alive in show business, than you should know the name of Just Anon, known for producing only the greatest in screenplays of TV shows and movies. That is, if he ever gets into a creative mood, in which last-minute panic seem to be the only thing able to perk him up. In layman’s terms, he‘s a chronic procrastinator, despite being an entertainment king. Janon’s lazy attitude, despite his massive potential to succeed, warrants a potential punch in the face from Myth, and she wants to get to the root of the true personality beneath that demonic hoodie. Hopefully, Myth would never find out about Janon’s soft spot for kids.

Outfit: A black face mask with a crooked smile on the front, a hoodie that resembles a cartoon devil, underneath the same formal wear from his original design.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Linguist

As the wealthy daughter of two ambassadors, Sparkle has been exposed to foreign tongues and dialects, ever since she was little, and still finds foreign languages fascinating, often watching stage plays from other countries to learn more about their native tongues. Myth always found Sparkle’s skill in foriegn languages to be fascinating, and Sparkle finds Myth’s athletic skills (and her bodacious body, particularly her strong and athletic legs) to be equally stunning. Unfortunately, Wyre wasn’t about to let Myth be gawked at by the eyes of the flashy and dramatic linguist, and tries to thwart the devious plans of Sparkle. 

Outfit: Same outfit from her original design, but with the Rubik’s Cube skirt replace with a blue skirt that has several languages printed on it.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Confidant, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Volleyball Player

Famous for running a blog that allows people from all around the world to vent their secrets to them, known as “What’s Crackin’”, Egg Anon seems to be way more reliable online compared to real life, where they sprout off cursed comments, alongside their equally cursed twin, famous volleyball star Wet Sock Anon. Myth seems to be the only person in the con who actually finds the cursed comments that the Freak Twins spout funny, often laughing when other Anons are staring in disgust. Myth, ever the open book, loves to vent to Egg, and Myth is happy to find that the famous volleyball star themselves is chaperoning the con trip alongside her.

Egg’s Outfit: A green hoodie over a yellow t-shirt and matching yellow hair clips, glasses, pants and shoes from original design.

Wet Sock’s Outfit: A black and white volleyball uniform, white socks, black volleyball shoes, hair tied back into a small ponytail, glasses from original design.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Tattoo Artist

Despite their yakuza connections and heavily tattooed arms, Curious wouldn’t hurt a fly (except if someone ordered them to) and takes all the stigma they face for their tattoos and connections with a smile on their face. After their family’s yakuza business went belly-up, Curious’s family decided to earn money the clean way, and opened up a tattoo parlour. Curious proved themselves to be a master at tattoo art and garnered popularity. Myth always wanted a tattoo on her arm, and asked Curious to give her cool lightning bolts on her left arm. Myth quickly bolted away, never to return, when she saw Curious holding a needle.

Outfit: A white button up shirt, black pants with black suspenders, heavily tattooed arms, shoes from original design.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Carpenter

Famous for using his trademark goggles to burn patterns into wood and his masterful craftsmanship when it comes to creating wooden structures, it was no wonder that Nerd earned the title of Ultimate Carpenter. Nerd is also famous for his uncontrollable temper and rage issues, if he were to be interrupted, and the horrible burns that the poor shmuck who interrupted Nerd winds up getting. Unfortunately for Myth, she constantly interrupts Nerd in the middle of work, and has to suffer burns that have to be cared for by Wyre in the process. This means that Nerd and Wyre are mortal enemies, much to the dismay of the track star.

Outfit: Red-tinted goggles, a red flannel shirt with rolled up sleeves, brown gloves, tool belt, and shoes, blue jeans.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Surfer

Born on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, Eldritch dominated all of the surfing competitions in both his area and foreign areas, garnering fame around his island as having an innate ability to find the biggest and most impressive waves in the deep and blue ocean. Unfortunately, being born on an isolated island doesn’t exactly translate into great social skills and trust in others, for he shows a hostile distrust in just about everybody, believing that they have harmful magical powers intent on harming him. This upsets Myth, because she genuinely wants to bond with a fellow jock, but Eldritch just continues to push Myth away.    

Outfit: Camo-hoodie from original design with nothing underneath, shorts from original design, seafoam flip flops, long hair in a ponytail.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Hiker

Famous for hiking long distances, no matter the terrain or weather, Dream Anon broke many world records in her trekking endeavors. Dream has a great love for nature and landscapes, and lives for the thrill of visiting new and obscure locales. Out of all of the Kibo-Con participants, Dream is the most similar to Myth personality-wise, and thus, Dream and Myth get along the best. Both of them bonded over their sporty personalities and their love for exploring new locales. Dream instantly realized she‘d be good friends with Myth, when Myth cleared Dream’s hiking spots in record speed, and now, they have hiking races together. 

Outfit: Black sunglasses, a heavy pink and grey jacket, a large backpack, black shorts, brown boots.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Tree Climber

Just like how Myth was good at running ever since she learned how to walk, Iris has been good at climbing things, ever since she was a baby. Despite being clumsy and uncoordinated when on the ground, when it comes to climbing trees, she’s a master, to the point that Hope’s Peak Middle School christened her with the title of “Jr. Ultimate Tree Climber”. Along with the innate ability to climb trees very well, Iris also is very knowledgeable when it comes to trees. Just like with Dream, Iris and Myth get along very well, thanks to their similar personalities, and they love experimenting with each other’s talents for the day.

Outfit: Same outfit from her original design, but with a tree motif in her design.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Lip Reader

Despite being born deaf, the timid yet determined Purple wouldn’t let her handicap stop her from communicating with others. On the side, Purple hosts lip-reading seminars for the deaf and is famed for her polite and wise nature. Off of the seminar grounds though, Purple is far more timid, but can still understand what others are saying, thanks to her expertise in lip reading. Myth may not really know what it‘s like to be deaf, but Myth would try her best to support the timid lip-reader regardless, even if Purple’s loquacious and old-fashioned vocabulary just confuses Myth, and she needs the smarter Anons to translate for her.  Outfit: Same outfit from the original, but without the beret and purple hearing aids.

This series would center around a simple-minded yet supportive sprinter getting babied and protected from her obsessive fanclub by the other Anons, Bokuto-style, much to the sprinter’s confusion!

——————————————————-

PERSONALITY 

The best way to describe Sprinter!Myth’s personality would be a female version of Bokuto from Haikyuu. Simple-minded, childish, and easily-impressed, Sprinter!Myth is what the modern generation would call a “her-mbo”. But as much of a simpleton as she is, she’s still really determined and steadfast, as well as kind and supportive towards her friends. Unlike Romantic!Myth, Sprinter!Myth is utterly dense to anything relating to attraction or romance, extending to her fanclub at her school.

——————-————————————

APPEARANCE

Sprinter!Myth has natural brown hair in a lightning bolt-shaped ponytail and an ahoge to match, contact lenses that she always forgets to put in, a headband colored like the bisexual flag, a bandage on her right cheek, a blue track jacket with white stripes over a white shirt with a “#6” on the front, red athletic shorts with white stripes and drawstrings, long white socks, and red and white running shoes.

——————————————————-

I hope you like this talentswap! Let me know what you think of this week’s swaps!

-Fusion Anon

[florestalio]

THE PERFECT COPY — y.jw

finding a job in the current state of the world was a hassle, but given your skills, it wasn't hard to find a decently paying job as a doorman. your job is to distinguish the doppelgangers from the real humans. simple enough, right? right?

GENRE— that's not my neighbour au, dystopian au, doppelganger au

WARNINGS— noncon/dubcon, mentions of killing, blood, guns, unprotected sex (don't!), big huge dick!won, monster fucking, meandom!won, implied munch!won, nicknames (slut, doll, princess, etc.), dacryphilia, fingering, manhandling, bondage, lot of slick (an almost concerning amount), marking (hickeys), cum eating (not oral), missionary, mating press, bulge kink, degradation, praise, possessive!won, let me know if I missed any!

WORDCOUNT— 7k

NOTE— i'm well aware that a similar fic has already been published by a different author, but mine was almost completely inspired by this video, so it's extremely different from the fic that had already been posted. bnd ver here!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

IN A WORLD WHICH IS SLOWLY, but steadily getting overtaken by doppelgangers, finding a job is one of the hardest tasks — even if a lot of new jobs have been created for this purpose.

‘Doorman’, a post that was one of the more frowned upon jobs with a very low salary, had now become one of the most high paying jobs — since it was their skills and abilities that would determine whether the people in an apartment or complex lived or not. The job sounded fairly simple — figure out if the person wanting to enter is a human or a convincing doppelganger. Let only the humans in, get rid of the doppelgangers with the help of the D.D.D — another job created for the purpose of eradication of the doppelgangers from the world.

While the job of doormen did sound simple, it obviously wasn't that easy. Doppelgangers could be very convincing, their morphing abilities weren't a matter of joke. But, no matter how human they seemed, at the end of the day, they weren't human.

While detecting them could be very hard, doppelgangers… aren't the smartest tool in the shed. They always have some kind of imperfections, no matter how minor, in their appearances, in the way they behave — and many more. This is where doormen step in. They are skilled people with extremely sharp observation skills, which they use to figure out these imposters, and thus save the lives of a lot more people than they think they do.

You were one of these people with sharp observation skills that got chosen as a doorman of an apartment complex, situated near the suburbs. While you weren't getting a salary as high as the skies, it was still pretty high, considering that people from remote locations were impersonated a lot more than people from the cities, as these people are easier targets than them.

According to your job description, the old doorman was taking a long, well-deserved vacation. You were supposed to replace him for as long as he was on vacation, after which, you had no idea what would happen. Would your job be gone? Were you going to keep your job? Would you work alongside the old doorman? So many questions, yet they all remained unanswered.

You shook off those thoughts, focusing on the present. You looked around your new office, trying to make yourself familiar with your surroundings. Everything you needed as a doorman seemed to be exactly where you needed it; a telephone, checklists to grant entries, an entry list, records of all the people that lived in the building, their phone numbers, the D.D.D phone number, and whatnot. There was even an emergency button on the wall, which was attached with a metal partition that covered the window in front of the desk when activated.

The presence of all these faculties just made your work a lot easier. You took a seat, right in front of the desk. As soon as you sat down, the phone rang. You picked it up, only to hear a recorded message from the previous doorman. Turns out, his name was Sunghoon, and he had recorded it for you to listen to, since he didn’t wish for any mishaps to happen to you. As thoughtful as he was, he was also extremely repetitive. After several ‘do not let them in’-s, did the recording finally end, making you breathe out a sigh of relief.

Now comes the tough part. Doing your job.

IT WAS A QUARTER TO MIDNIGHT. After a hard day’s work of letting in the actual residents and calling the D.D.D upon the impersonators, the entry list had only two more people left. Namely, a businessman by the name of ‘Park Jongseong’ who lived alone in the third room on the first floor, and ‘Yang Jungwon’, the milkman who lived alone in the second room of the third floor.

Over the course of the day, you had seen doppelgangers of all kinds, some a lot better at impersonating than the other. There were several times when you had almost missed a sudden flash of an extra pair of arms, or different eye colors — as impressed as you were, you had immediately called the D.D.D on them.

Sometimes the doppelgangers looked completely, utterly, perfect copies of the person they were impersonating. Had it not been for a slight difference in their ID’s or entry requests, you would have probably let them in.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps alerted you. As you looked up, you were met with the face of Jongseong, Jay for short. He gave you a half smile. “Sorry for bothering you this late, a client of mine was giving me a lot of trouble. Honestly, how is it my fault that the delivery was being delayed? Do they not realize that in the present situation, it is hard to navigate through the innumerous doppelgangers that are just waiting to pounce at any given moment of the day? It's truly very inconsiderate of–”

You interrupted his rambling. “Sir I require your ID in order to let you in. As you mentioned, it is already extremely late, so please, let’s not delay this any further.” You felt a little guilty for how you were acting towards him, but his rambling was taking up too much of your precious time.

His eyes immediately widened, before he started rummaging in his pockets. “Right — I'm really sorry, I'm not sure why I started to rant to you — here's my ID–”

You took a close look at the ID, trying to find any kind of faults in it. You heard him start to rant again. “—and honestly it was such a lovely day too, but this stupidly inconsiderate client had to ruin it.” You looked up at him, watching him continue to rant about the most random topics, which… didn’t really make any sense. “—so many ice cream trucks, but all of them had crashed into each other. The amount of people going up to those and stealing ice creams from them was actually insane–”

Suddenly you noticed something amiss on his face, protruding from his hat. Without missing a beat, you asked him. “Sir, what's that on your face?”

Jay immediately stopped his rambling. “My face? Wh– What’s wrong with it? It– It's just a normal face!–”

Your hand started to creep towards the emergency button. “There are tiny hands on your face.”

Jay panicked, watching you reach towards the emergency button. “Wait!– I have an explanation for this — see I was talking to this little girl called Jiah right? So I called out to her ‘Hey Jiah! Can you give me a hand with this?’ and she came and put her hands on my face! No wait don't–”

It was too late. You had already pushed the emergency button, watching the metal partition fall into place, blocking your view of him. You could hear the doppelganger wailing about how it was ‘a perfect disguise’. You quickly contacted the D.D.D, letting them know of the situation. Within five minutes you heard them arrive, screams of ‘get away from the door you filthy animal!’ and ‘but I don't wanna’ filled up the air, along with the sounds of guns going off, before it all went silent.

The partition suddenly went up again, a bloodied yellow hazmat suit with the D.D.D logo coming into your view. The person in the suit spoke. “Cleaning protocol has been completed. Please feel free to carry on with your job.”

You whispered a small thanks, watching them leave. It was almost midnight now, and you still had to let in two more of the apartment’s residents. It almost annoyed you, but this was in your job description when you had applied for it, so you had to suck it up.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps reached your ears again, along with a voice. “God, I'm so sorry for coming this late, Sunghoon, I swear I'll come earlier next time–” The voice stopped short, and so did your breath.

Good fucking gracious. You did look at the profiles of all the residents in the building, but none of them looked as good as Jungwon did up close.

Jungwon, a milkman by profession, was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Even with his tired eyes and exhausted appearance in general, he looked so fucking… ravishing.

He cleared his throat. “I'm so sorry, it's usually Sunghoon who sits here — are you new?”

You nodded, licking your lips nervously. “Yeah I am… Sunghoon went for a vacation, a long one apparently, so I'm here to replace him for the time being.”

He nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. Good thing he went for a vacation, god knows he needed one. We all need one, given the state of the world at present — how are you liking it at the new job? Is it giving you too much trouble?”

You shook your head. “Oh no, not at all — there were a lot of posers, but I handled them just fine. I think I'll be alright.”

“That's good. Oh, I remember my first experience with a doppelganger — it was almost terrifying. See, there was this — this woman, who lived here and… it was a very convincing disguise. The only thing wrong with her was that… there was a mole on her right cheek, except that it was supposed to be on the left side. When the D.D.D was called on her, she… kept screaming and screaming — all that just… it takes a toll on you. Not being able to recognise them, that is.”

You gulped, barely hearing what he was saying, too focused on the movement of his lips. “Yea… that's — yea, it's scary.”

He offered you a half smile. “It is. But what you're doing is important. You're saving a lot of lives this way, and that is all that matters. That's what is important.”

“Thank you — I appreciate that, I truly do.”

“You're welcome. I may not know you personally yet, but I can tell that you're an honest person. People like you… they tend to overthink these things. So always remember that… what you're doing is great. These doppelgangers are evil, and they deserve what they are getting.”

You gave him a grateful smile, once again thanking him for his kind words. He gave you one back. “Not a big deal… princess. Here's my ID… and my entry request.”

As you took his ID and his entry request, you froze, suddenly aware of the nickname that he used to refer to you. “P-Princess?–”

Jungwon had a tiny smirk on his face this time. “Yea? Do you not like the nickname? I can stop–”

You were quick to deny it. “No I didn't mean — uhm — I do like it…”

An amused glint was present in his eye. “I see. So… are my documents in order, princess?”

You nodded, feeling heat creep up on your cheeks. “Yep, all good.” A sudden idea struck you. “Actually wait… there is something wrong.”

His smile vanished. “What?– Something's wrong?”

You nodded. “Yea… with your face.”

He raised a shaky hand to touch his face, something you missed. “M– My face? What's wrong with it?”

You smiled at him, your eyes twinkling with amusement. With as much cheesiness as you could muster in your voice, you replied. “Yea, it's called ‘handsomeness’.” You immediately cringed at yourself. What kind of a pathetic attempt at flirting was that?

However, it seemed to sway Jungwon. He immediately blinked, before letting out a relieved grin, a faint blush coating his cheeks. “Oh?– You got me there. Thank you — you're extremely gorgeous too.”

Now it was your turn to feel shy. Your cheeks were aflame, heat creeping up your neck. Were you seriously flirting instead of doing your job? This late at night?

You shyly smiled at him, thanking him. He gave you another smile back, this one seeming a lot more cocky than the last. “Can I go now, pretty girl? Or do you have more tricks up your sleeve?”

You giggled a little, pressing the green button to let him in. “Nope! Go right in.”

He gave you a small smirk, tipping his hat towards you in the same manner a cowboy would, before disappearing through the door.

Around three minutes after Jungwon went in, the sound of footsteps reached your ears again, only this time, it wasn’t exactly the sound of a person walking. It sounded like someone was running. Fast.

You heard the sound of panting, before… Jungwon came into view. Only this time, he had blood all over him.

This was obviously a doppelganger, but before you could reach for the emergency button, the fake Jungwon spoke. “Oh my fucking god — hey I’m guessing you’re new? Listen, this is really important. Did you see… me earlier?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. This was a new strategy. No doppelganger had used a strategy quite like this one earlier today. “Uh-huh.”

He banged on the glass partition with his fist, making you flinch. His eyes looked crazier than before. “I’m not playing around here. Did you or did you not see me earlier?”

Your hand quickly went to the emergency button. Noticing that, he started panicking. “No no no — don’t press that, just listen to me. I was knocked out — he stole my keys! — everything, he stole everything… even my face! Please tell me you didn’t let him in.”

Your hand hovered over the button, his words making you hesitate from pushing it. “I did let him in…”

His eyes widened. “Oh fuck — this is bad, this is bad, this is bad — listen, you have to call the D.D.D — right now. Do it! Call them right now!”

You gazed at him, conflicted. He sounded so… convincing. But so did the first Jungwon. Which one of them was telling the truth?

You almost wanted to scoff at yourself. You were supposed to have some top tier observation skills to be able to figure out who is a doppelganger and who is not. So why was it so hard for you to tell in this case?

You didn’t even realize when your hand fell on the button, pressing it by accident. As the alarm bells sounded and the metal barrier began to fall, several shouts of ‘No!’ could be heard from the outside. You sat there rigidly, not even aware of when the door to your office opened, the person on the other side of the door slipping inside. It wasn’t until he put a hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch, when you realized that Jungwon, the first one, was inside.

You relaxed for a moment, before he bent down, whispering in your ear, causing you to freeze. “You did a good job princess. Such a good job. Now continue to be a good girl and sit here quietly like a good fucking girl would, yea?”

As he spoke, the realization dawned upon you, the cold dread that came with it washing over you like a bucket of ice. The second Jungwon was the real one.

As you sat there frozen, Jungwon — or rather, the doppelganger — called up the D.D.D, informing them of a ‘doppelganger’ situation. Within five minutes, they had arrived, screams and sounds of gunshots once again filling up the air. Once they stopped, the metal partition opened, once again revealing a yellow hazmat suit stained with blood.

The D.D.D agent recited the same words that it did everytime, before walking away. As soon as the D.D.D had evacuated the building, ‘Jungwon’ clicked the emergency button again, quickly pressing another button to deactivate the alarm bells, so that only the metal partition fell down. He gripped the handles of your chair, spinning it to make you face him. You gulped as you faced him, the sinister smirk on his face filled you up with a fear so intense, that it gripped you in an almost vice-like grip. It was terrifying — he was terrifying.

His eyes raked over you, drinking in your fearful expression. The shaking of your body, the pleading in your eyes, the nervous gulping — all of it filled him up with a foreign emotion — an emotion that made him want to devour you whole.

He lifted up a hand to your face, holding your chin between his fingers, leaning your face upwards. He himself leaned down, stopping just a breath away from your lips, causing your own breath to hitch. Whether it was from fear, or anticipation, he didn't know — not that it would change anything.

He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, maintaining eye contact with you. “Are you surprised? That I'm not who you thought I was?”

You gulped, too afraid to speak. Although the shaking of your eyes told him what he wanted to know.

He smirked lightly. “Does it make you feel angry? To know that you have been finally bested by a — what do you humans call us again? Ah, a ‘doppelganger’.”

‘Anger’ was the last thing you felt. Fear was all you felt — fear for both yourself, and everyone else whose life you had endangered. You were absolutely terrified, dreading your fate.

You had seen pictures of the real form of the doppelgangers — albeit just drawings; derivations from people who somehow lived to tell the tale. They were described to be completely monstrous, with yellow eyes and sharp teeth, greenish skin and huge claws that could easily rip anyone to shreds. It was only natural for you to feel terrified of your fate. Were you going to be torn to shreds by him? Or was he going to eat you? Do doppelgangers actually eat humans?

Turns out, he did plan on eating you. Devouring you actually. Just… not in the way you thought.

He traced his lip with his tongue, practically undressing you with his eyes. He was going to fucking ruin you.

He traced your lip with his thumb, forcing your mouth open. He pressed his thumb down on your tongue, watching the tears gather at your waterline and the saliva on your tongue. You were already so much fun to play with.

You wanted to cry, scream — anything to get out of this situation. You weren't trained for something like this — all the instructors just said “Catch them, or they catch you. If you're caught, consider yourself dead.” None of them ever prepared you for a situation like this.

You needed to use your own tactics, and you needed to use them fast. You stared at his eyes, trying to make sure your facial expressions didn't give away your thoughts, when suddenly, a brilliant — okay, not brilliant, but still better than nothing — idea struck you.

Your eyes suddenly fell on the door, your eyes widening slightly with a glimmer of hope. He frowned at your expression, looking backwards at the door as well, taking the bait.

You immediately pushed him off you, catching him off-guard, before quickly running to the door. But just as you were about to reach for the handle, you felt him grab your shoulder from behind, pulling you backwards in a not-so-gentle manner. He shoved you to the floor unceremoniously, causing you to scream from the impact — not that anyone would hear you, since the walls were soundproof as long as the metal partition was pulled down, and you had no way to reach the button to deactivate it.

You tried to get up, but were immediately shoved back down to the ground, with him climbing up on top of you, pinning your arms above your head. If looks could kill, you would have already been six feet under by now.

For a moment he just glared down at you, your lips quivering, your eyes shaking with unshed tears. Your chest was rising up and down erratically, downright terrified with what he was planning on doing to you. Was he going to strangle you to death? Tear you apart by hand? Break your neck? Or was he going to–

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by him. His voice was cold with a sinister undertone. “You know princess, I was going to be nice to you — go nice and slow, appreciate everything about you, take my time with you, make it memorable for you. But after this little stunt that you just pulled? I don't think you deserve kindness. If you want to be a fucking brat, acting like you weren't ready to spread your legs open for me just ten minutes ago, then I'm going to fucking treat you like one.”

Your blood ran cold. He was going to what?

You couldn't even understand where he was coming from. You were ‘acting like a brat’? Was trying to run in order to save your life a crime now? You were getting ready to ‘spread your legs for him just ten minutes ago’? First of all, it was some harmless flirting with a nice guy who you thought was human, not a fucking monster. So what the fuck was he even trying to say?

None of it mattered now — not now, when he was sliding the belt that was just there for design purposes through the hoops in your skirt. It didn't matter now, when he started to tie the belt around your wrists, ignorant to your struggles to break free. Not now, when he was grabbing the ends of your shirt, roughly shoving it up.

He couldn't shove it off you, since your hands were tied, so he proceeded to tear it off with his hands. It was an expensive shirt, but there wasn't any time to mourn the loss of your shirt — not when his hands had already moved to your skirt. He didn't even bother trying to get it off this time, simply ripping it apart like paper.

The tears finally broke free. This was it. This was your fate. You were going to get used like some pathetic doll by some monster and then tossed away once you were useless. Even death would have been a kinder fate than this.

You screwed your eyes shut when you felt him touch you over your panties, disgusted by yourself when you realized that you were, in fact, wet. You heard him let out a menacing chuckle, causing more tears to fall from your shut eyes. You felt his finger just barely trace over your covered cunt, making you squirm. He was quick to hold your legs down, before shoving a finger through your panties, causing it to stick inside your wet folds, drenching it further. You felt him leaning down towards your core, a whimper of utter despair leaving you.

He ignored you, taking a whiff of your scent. As soon as it hit him, he let out a loud groan, a quiet ‘fuck’ accompanying it. He definitely needed to eat you out, but first, he needed to stretch you out.

He gripped the waistband of your panties tightly, before ripping it off. The sound of the cotton material tearing brought a fresh batch of tears to your eyes. “P-Please — don’t do this, please–”

He quickly interrupted you by grabbing your throat, applying just enough pressure to cut off your oxygen. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t get to decide what I’ll do or not do. I gave you a chance, didn’t I? I was nice to you initially, wasn’t I? You clearly took advantage of that and tried to run, so why the fuck would I listen to you? If you don’t want to make matters worse for yourself, take what I give you like a good little slut would.”

That ruined whatever tiny hope you had of avoiding this fate. More tears fell from your eyes, causing you to bite down on your lip to conceal your sobs. For some reason, the sight of you biting your lip, paired with your tears, turned him on a lot more than it should have, causing him to grab your chin tightly.

Your eyes flew open in shock, releasing your lip from the abuse from your teeth. His eyes landed on your swollen lips, his pants growing tighter and tighter by the second. Before you could register what was happening, he smashed his lips on yours, swallowing your surprised gasp. He kissed you harshly, his movements sloppy. Saliva dripped past your mouths, smearing onto your chins, but he could care less.

He bit down on your lip, pulling it slightly with his teeth, causing a whimper to leave you involuntarily. He let out a quiet groan at the sound, before diving back inside your mouth, shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He hungrily explored your wet cavern, his hands moving to take his shirt off, the heat radiating off the two of you becoming unbearable. He grabbed your jaw tightly, tilting your head to kiss you deeper, his legs planted on either side of you.

Even if you didn’t want to enjoy it, any of it, your body couldn’t hide its true reaction. You kept letting out whimpers and moans, squirming under him. He gladly swallowed each and every sound of yours, little grunts and groans of his own leaving him. He badly wanted to grind down on you, but he had enough self control to not do that. Instead, he slid a hand down, collected the slick that kept gushing out on his fingers, before shoving his middle finger inside.

Your reaction was immediate. You let out a sharp gasp into his mouth, your hips bucking up into his. He bit down your lip at your reaction, breaking the skin and drawing out blood. He plunged his finger in deeper, feeling even more slick gushing out of you. He sucked the blood off your lip, licking the cut, moaning at the taste. Your blood ignited a fire inside him, the heat spreading to every part of him, the need to completely, utterly, ruin you for everyone else spreading to his finger tips, taking over his brain. He thrust his finger impossibly deeper, before pulling it out, causing you to let out a desperate whine into his mouth, one that was quickly replaced by a shocked moan when he plunged in two fingers at once.

You could feel your cunt stretching to accommodate his fingers, which were long and slender, allowing him to reach parts of you that no one ever did. His fingers dragged across your walls, allowing you to feel every inch of them. His fingers hit every ridge and bump perfectly, making you clench around them tightly.

He felt your pussy walls hugging his fingers, causing him to fasten up the pace of both his fingers and his mouth, swallowing up your whimpers, listening to the wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of your cunt.

He curled up his fingers, feeling your entire body shake under him. He let out a victorious smirk against your lips, having finally found your spot. He increased the pace of his fingers, making sure to curl up his fingers every time, hitting that spongy part in your walls every time with ease.

Your breathing sped up, your whimpers increasing, your wrists becoming red from how much you were struggling to get out of the tight grip of your belt wrapped around them. You could feel yourself becoming wetter and wetter, yet being so far from the edge. Something was missing, something that you desperately needed to finally teeter off the edge.

Even if you couldn’t understand what exactly you needed, ‘Jungwon’ sure did. He broke the kiss, taking in the sight of your bruised and swollen lips, before shifting his attention to your neck, immediately latching his lips on your pulse point, sucking on it harshly. He pumped his fingers into your pussy faster, his thumb moving to rub at your clit harshly. You almost screamed at the added pleasure, your walls clamping down on his fingers in a vice-like grip.

Within seconds your pussy started to convulse around his fingers. Your release gushed out of you in huge amounts, coating his fingers in a creamy white. He helped you ride out your high, shallowly pumping his fingers in you. He stopped sucking on your neck, looking at the newly formed purplish hickey on it proudly. Once you came down from your high, he slipped his fingers out with a wet ‘pop’, watching your walls flutter around nothing.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, slipping them inside, tasting your release. You watched him with hooded eyes, your chest rising up and down slowly as you tried to catch your breath. His eyes screwed shut when the taste hit him, a deep groan leaving him, one that traveled straight to your core, despite having just had one of the best orgasms of your life.

He opened his eyes, his gaze darker than before, making you gulp. He leaned down again, maintaining eye contact with you. He ran a hand through your hair, before gripping it tightly, ripping a whimper out of you. He bit his lips, whispering “God, you drive me fucking crazy” before smashing his lips onto yours. He shoved his tongue inside your mouth almost immediately, making you taste yourself.

Fuck, he would be lying if he said he wasn't dying to eat you out, but the problem in his pants would probably kill him before he had his fill of you — which was why he was furiously trying to get his stupid belt off, something which proved to be quite a challenge for no apparent reason.

When he finally managed to get it off, he threw it away somewhere in the room, out of reach. His shirt was sticking to his skin uncomfortably from how much he was sweating, so obviously that had to go too. Once it was off, he quickly shimmied out of his pants, his boxers quickly following them.

As soon as his boxers were off, his bare cock slapped on his stomach, standing tall and proud. His mushroom tip was an angry shade of red, leaking a generous amount of precum. He was both long and girthy, almost ridiculously so, making you a little concerned about the stretch — or if it would at all fit.

Of course you were anticipating it — how could you not? Yes, he was taking you without consent, but did that really matter anymore? Your morals were thrown out of the window the moment he shoved his pretty fingers into your hole. You couldn't help how much you were leaking for him then, and you certainly can't help it now. You were practically gushing down there, a puddle of your sweet slick starting to form in between your thighs. God, it was a miracle that he hadn't started eating you out like a starved man eating his first meal in days. But then again, he also couldn't wait to finally sink into your wet heat, and fuck you till all you could think about was his dick.

So that's what he did. He spread your legs further apart with his knees, settling down between them. He aligned himself with your entrance, but instead of directly pushing in, he decided to toy with you a little. After all, you were just a toy for him, weren't you? The perfect little toy — a doll if you will — for him to use, break, destroy and dispose of as he wishes.

A little whine from you caught his ears. He looked at your face, almost taken aback by your expression. Your eyes were hooded, lips swollen and glistening from your spit — possibly a result of you biting down on them. Were you… enjoying this? Did you want this?

It was hot, so undeniably hot of you to like this — not just your body, but you. There was no fucking way he was ever going to let go of you now — no, you were too perfect to lose.

He swallowed thickly, trying his best to subdue his desire of immediately plunging inside you and railing you into your next life. No, he had to be patient, in order to make it fun for him.

He tapped the head of his cock on your clit, watching even more slick pour out of you, joining the puddle on the floor. It was truly magnificent how much your body craved this — how much you craved it — almost as much as he did.

He rubbed his tip over your slit, gathering the slick from it, ripping out pitiful whimpers from you. He almost caved in to your sinful sounds — almost — before continuing to gather your slick on his mushroom tip.

He watched as your slick and his precum mixed together, forming a beautiful white mixture, something that looked almost delicious — of course he had to taste it, and make you taste it as well. You would like it anyways.

He gathered some of the mixture on his fingers, before popping them in his mouth. He closed his eyes, savoring the sinful taste. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see how much the taste affected his body, even more precum having dribbled out of his tip, falling into the puddle of your slick.

He swirled his finger in the mixture, before bringing it to your own mouth. He watched as you eagerly wrapped your lips around his digits, sucking the mixture of your wants greedily. He let out a groan, wondering if you would suck his cock the same way. But he had plenty of time to find that out later.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’, ignoring your whine. He pushed his hand into the puddle of your slick, before wrapping the same hand around his ridiculously large dick, slowly pumping it. His eyes were dark as he maintained eye contact with you, taking in the way you gulped slowly. It was so cute, the way you wanted it as much as he did, and yet were afraid of it actually happening.

If he stared at your cute little lips or your pretty little eyes that were filled with both hesitation and desperation, he would definitely cum even before he had the chance to be inside your — by the looks of it, extremely tight walls.

He grabbed your legs again, spreading them even further apart, before slowly starting to push into you. He was immediately met with a lot of resistance from you, loud gasps and whimpers falling from your lips in a beautiful melody, your pussy walls clamping down tightly on his tip alone. He hissed at the pressure, gripping your hips tightly as he slowly started to push in.

The sounds of your whimpers and choked gasps increased two-fold, your walls stretching to an alarming extent as they tried to fit him. You were well aware that the ‘Jungwon’ that was fucking you wasn't the real one, that he was a monster — but you didn't realise that doppelgangers were this hung. He was big, huge even — way bigger than the average dick size. It felt like he was splitting apart your insides, but you couldn't deny the enormous amount of pleasure that accompanied the pain.

He had to suck in a breath when he had finally buried himself to the hilt inside you, your walls clamping down on him painfully. It almost felt like he willingly buried himself into a dick guillotine, that’s how tight you felt around him. It wasn’t like he could blame you either — he wasn’t human, even if he was impersonating one, all of his physical features were obviously not perfect. As for him, his imperfection happened to be his dick, which was way larger than the average human dick, almost monstrously so — not that he was complaining… and he knew you wouldn’t be either in a while, once you got used to his size.

His grip on your hips was tight enough to bruise, as he slowly pulled out almost completely, leaving only his tip inside, making you let out a sigh of relief. But that relief was short lived, because he almost immediately slammed himself back in, knocking the air out of you. It felt as if he somehow managed to fit another non-existent inch inside of you.

The squelching sound from the slide however, encouraged him to continue. You were liking it, he knew you were. That’s why you were getting even wetter than before, weren’t you? Yep, that was it. That was why your walls were clamping down on him so tightly. Your body didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop.

He pulled out almost completely again, before ruthlessly slamming right back in, ripping a scream out of you. But the slick that kept pouring out of you, past his cock, told him all that he needed to know. He thrusted into you mercilessly, without caring about how you felt — he knew you liked it, he was sure of it–

Your loud whimpers of pain broke him out of his daze. “P– Please, it h– hurts so much–”

His hand grabbed your neck, squeezing down on it as a warning. “Don’t fucking lie to me — you’re leaking past my cock, and you expect me to believe that you aren’t enjoying this? Stupid, fucking slut, lying to me to my face? Absolutely pathetic.”

He grabbed both of your thighs, pushing them up to your chest, before starting to thrust into you again, the ruthless pace of his hips almost bruising your thighs. The new angle allowed him to hit even deeper, your cries of pain only increasing in volume. He ignored them, focusing on how his hips snapped into yours with every thrust. “Fucking take it — you know you like this, you fucking painslut. It hurts, does it? How adorable, you fucking love it, you know you do.”

He continued to ram his hips into yours, uncaring of your discomfort — unbeknownst to you, your cries only caused him to grow harder, his cock bulging through your stomach. The bulge on your stomach appearing and disappearing inside you caught his attention, causing him to groan. He fisted your hair tightly in his hand, pulling you up. “Look at that, princess, look at it — look at how I keep disappearing inside you. Fucking perfect for me, aren’t you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, continuing to slam his hips into yours. He let go of your hair, pressing down on the bulge in your stomach instead. The added pressure caused him to groan, his pace increasing. Your slick made it easy for him to pound into you, your cries having started to turn into loud moans. He found it almost cute, your switch up.

He pushed your thighs up higher against your chest, his hips snapping painfully into yours, balls slapping on your ass with every thrust. It felt so fucking wrong, but even you couldn’t deny how good it felt. “I’m gonna fill you up, till my cum is dripping past your legs — gonna make you walk around like that. You would love that, wouldn’t you? Walking around with my cum dripping down your legs like a fucking slut?”

If the way you clenched around him at his words wasn’t a dead giveaway to whether you liked what he was doing or not, then he didn’t know what else could possibly be it. He increased his pace. “Yea? You like that? You want that? You’re my precious little cumslut, aren’t you? My sweet little doll, so eager to be filled up to the brim.”

He brought a hand down to your clit, rubbing it harshly. The added pleasure sent shockwaves to your brain, your back arching, eyes rolling back. You could feel the coil in your stomach continue to tighten, the harsh pace of his assault on your clit only making the coil tighter and tighter.

He suddenly pinched your clit harshly, the sudden sensation causing you to let out a choked gasp. The coil in your stomach finally snapped, causing you to gush around him. He groaned at the feeling, your walls clamping around him, triggering his own release. He buried himself deep inside you, spurts of cum sprouting from him, slowly filling her up to the brim. He gripped your hips tightly. “Take it, take all of it, fucking take it — you’re mine to fuck, mine to breed, no matter when I see fit. So fucking take it–”

He kept on and on cumming, your walls clamping around him, milking him dry. He hissed, pulling out his softening length. It was so hot, the way his cum dripped out of your hole. It was the perfect time to eat you out, but that had to wait.

He grabbed your hands, finally undoing the belt on them. As soon as you were free from the restraints, you tried to flex your wrists, to fix the blood flow. He smirked at your antics. He grabbed your chin tightly, making you face him. “Listen up sweetheart — from now onwards, you do what I say. If I tell you to stay, you will stay. If I tell you to sit and look pretty, you will sit and look pretty. Got it?”

You gulped thickly. You were absolutely terrified of him. Why shouldn’t you be? Given what he had done to you, you would have no other choice but to obey him.

So you nodded. Albeit hesitantly.

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing another hungry kiss to your lips. He whispered against them. “Good girl — my good girl”

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Science & Faith | Carlton Drake x Reader (4/?)

Words: 1860

A/N: I wish I could add links to this post, but I'm afraid of it not showing up in tags like it had done several times before. The masterlist for this story should be pinned on my blog and my full masterlist is in my bio.

Warning: This whole chapter is set in an AU until the end, which leads to the end of The Invisible River Part One.

-

The Invisible River Part Two

- Alternate Universe One -

At the end of the conference, Tony managed to find Carlton in the lobby. He turned and opened his mouth at the same time as Tony.

“No, you go first,” Tony insisted.

“Have you-”

“No, I go first,” he interrupted, ignoring Carlton’s glare, “Have you noticed that Rolling Pin and Doctopus aren't here?”

Carlton sighed, pushing his frustrations down to address the situation. “Yeah, they seemed to have left half way through the conference.”

“Honestly, why even bother coming if you’re just going to leave anyways? The beginning part is always pointless, who comes just for that?”

“Maybe he had an emergency,” Carlton suggested.

Tony cleared his throat, looking around to see if there were any more people lingering in the lobby before pulling Carlton on the side. He brought up his watch and projected a surveillance camera, showing Spider-man swinging towards a large building.

“Know which building that is?” Tony said, pointing at it, “That’s a laboratory built under Fisk’s name. What do you think Spandex-man is doing there?”

“Why are you coming to me with this? Aren’t you Iron-man?” Carlton asked, already on the move to leave.

Tony frowned at him, blocking his escape. “Dude, don’t you wanna check it out? Be a hero for once? I know that you were keeping tabs on ol’ Kingpin for a while.”

“I am far from being a hero, Stark,” Carlton said tiredly, pushing past him. Tony sighed, turning to fall into step with him.

“And yet, look at me. We don’t exactly fit the golden boy Captain America role, but it’s good intentions that count, right?”

“My so-called good intentions got my fiance killed, Stark. Look into it with your spider friend if you’re itching for action. I’m not looking for redemption.”

“And yet, you followed me to my car,” Tony said.

Carlton blinked, finding that he was unconsciously following Tony’s lead and was now standing next to his red shiny sports car. Tony pulled out his sunglasses and smirked, climbing in.

“Well, get in, loser, we’re going crime-stopping.”

On the way to Fisk’s labs, Tony contacted Spider-man about any updates on Fisk’s or Doctor Octavius’s movements. He confirmed that they were both in the labs for the past several hours. From the activities that he had observed, they seemed to be building a large machine deep within the labs with power sources leading underground.

“So, we’re just gonna go without backup?” Carlton asked in disbelief.

“No,” Tony scoffed, “We are the backup.”

Carlton sputtered, gesturing to himself. “And what am I supposed to do?”

Tony sighed, digging around the back of his car for a box, unceremoniously tossing a watch at Carlton. He caught it, inspecting it closely before putting it on.

“One button has a taser, the other a communicator. There’s also a little thing I added to check the cameras in the area, then there’s the iron-glove with the same functions of the ones on my suit. Oh, also, a flashlight. Can’t forget that. Plays music, too, if you want. You’re a fellow genius, Drake, you’ll figure it out.” Tony patted his back. “Watch, we’re going to be besties once this is all over.”

They waited until nightfall to start moving. Spider-man updated them on Fisk’s whereabouts, saying that his car was driving away from the building. They all met up and readily agreed that this didn’t have to be a big issue that reached the news. Secrecy wasn’t exactly Tony’s style, but he could take it seriously when he needed to.

Spider-man swiftly subdued the security guards on patrol while Tony hacked into the cameras. One guard had slipped away from his post to check on the others. Carlton quickly lifted his watch and pressed a button, hoping that it was a taser. Bright light blinded the man, making him shrink away. Carlton used this to press another button, successfully tasing him. Tony looked down at the guard and nodded over to Spider-man. He quickly lifted the man and placed him with the others that were wrapped in webbing.

“There’s an elevator near here that goes below ground level,” Tony whispered, “Or we could go through the warehouse. It’s currently empty.”

Tony waved a security guard’s keycard over the reader and Spider-man headed in first. The other two crouched in the corner and watched through the camera on the masked hero, hoping to find something. The way down to the labs below ground went smoothly and it made them feel uneasy. Each floor was brightly lit and suspiciously empty. As he reached the lowest floor, Spider-man paused in his tracks.

“Someone’s here,” he muttered.

Tony activated his iron glove and readied to go in, eyeing the camera through Carlton’s watch. Spider-man entered a narrow hallway leading towards a single metal door. His spider-senses were off the charts as he approached, turning the knob slowly. It was unlocked.

The camera suddenly blurred, followed by a loud smack. A woman in a lab coat, eyes covered by goggles, and four metal arms stretched out from her back, stood in front of him. She smirked, one arm reaching over out of the camera’s view, before pulling back and revealing Spider-man’s mask clutched in its metal claws.

“Ah, that’s a no-no,” he warned.

“Such a young man,” she cooed, an arm holding him yanking him away from the wall and slammed him into a large chair in the room. Metal clamps held his arms and legs in place, rendering him incapacitated as she casually dragged an office chair over. “I’m sure you’re curious about what we’re doing here.”

“It’d be nice if you told me,” Spider-man said.

“I’ve seen the technology you use, so I think you’d appreciate what I’m about to tell you,” she said, standing up and approaching the wide window facing a massive chamber, a large machine in the middle. “Oh, where are my manners? I'm Doctor Olivia Octavius. My friends call me Liv, but my enemies- ” Her metal arms wriggled about, one reaching over to Spider-man to touch his head “- They call me Doc Ock.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Spider-man.”

“Young man with manners. You see, Kingpin commissioned what I call a Super Collider.”

“A Super Collider?” His eyes drift towards the chamber, landing on the panel on the ceiling. Must be where the power source is. If he could just get to it… “And what does this Super Collider do?”

Tony tapped Carlton on the shoulder and they began to make their way down. Halfway down to the chamber, they started to hear footsteps. The guards were resuming their patrols. Carlton activated his iron glove, metal pieces extending from the watch to perfectly wrap around his hand, and the two scientists continued on with caution.

Doc Ock smirked at this question, turning back to her capture. “Since you came all this way, why don’t I show you what it does? It makes a magnificent light show. I’m sure you will love it.”

A few guards got in the way of Tony and Carlton’s descent, but they were swiftly taken care of and hidden. Just as they reached the narrow hallway that they saw through the camera, a booming whirring resounded from the room. They shared a panic look and rushed towards the door with their iron gloves ready.

They were met with the sight of a man that looked to be in his late twenties with ruffled brown hair wearing Spider-man’s suit. He looked to have been beaten around since that last time they had checked his camera. Tony shot a glare at the woman as her fingers fluttered over the control panel, unphased by their entrance.

“Curiosity killed the cat, fellas,” she commented as the roaring from the collider grew stronger. An atmospheric meter lowers down, a tiny light blinking.

“Stop the machine, Octopus!” Tony warned, aiming his iron glove at her.

“Or what?” She raised an eyebrow, making eye contact with him as her finger lowered towards a blinking button. “If you shoot, who knows what that will do to the machine. Could be interesting…”

A metal arm shot out before his glove could charge. He staggered back and shot out a beam, redirecting the arm and causing it to crash through the glass. She glared, whipping around to check on her machine while Tony rushed over to the revealed Spider-man.

“How you doin’, kid?” Tony whispered, releasing his limbs from the chair.

“Been better,” Peter grunted. “Is this a good time to tell you that my name’s Peter?”

“Why are you doing this?” Carlton demanded as an energy beam shot to the middle of the chamber.

“Carlton Drake,” she scoffed, turning to him, “Don’t you wish you had another chance to make things right? The choices we’re given are paths that lead to an endless possible points in our lives. Each path we choose to walk down opens up to new paths to choose from. Thus, creating- “

“Alternate realities,” Carlton finished.

Doc Ock nodded. “What if you had chosen to listen to your dear (Y/n)- “

“Don’t you dare bring them up! I made my choice and I’m living with it.”

“But what if you have access to that other choice. You can go to another reality where you’re living happily with (Y/n).”

Carlton’s eyes narrowed. “Is this why Fisk wanted you to build this?”

She shrugged. “Well, it’s something I’ve always wanted to tap into, but to have a desperate millionaire fund my little project is always a treat.” She flinched and a metal arm shot out towards the door where Tony was escaping with Peter. “You’re gonna miss the show.”

The air in the chamber began to warp, gradually forming into a portal. Doc Ock moved to give the machine more power before being intercepted by a spider web shooting out from Peter. Chaos erupted in the room, a blur of spider webs, energy beams, and metal arms flying around. The lights began to flicker, drawing their attention back to the machine that was almost at maximum power. Carlton attempted to disengage from the fight to stop the machine when one of Doc Ock’s arms swung out and knocked him out of the window.

“No!” Peter shouted, jumping to catch Carlton as he got sucked into the growing portal.

“You’re not going anywhere!” Doc Ock growled, another arm grabbing Peter and slamming him through the door.

Carlton felt the Collider pull him in. It wasn’t like a vacuum, but more like being swept away by an invisible river. He aimed his iron glove towards the ceiling panel to shut it down, then froze as he risked a glance into the portal. He saw a flash of your face, alive and happy.

Suddenly, the portal grew rapidly in an unstable manner and he could just see Doc Ock through the shatter glass with a gleeful grin on her face, a fist gripping onto a lever as she increased the power to its maximum capacity, lights flickering and surging around her. An energy beam from Tony’s iron glove shot out towards the panel before the portal swallowed Carlton completely, his body feeling as if swept away by an invisible river.

[sweetest-honeybee]

Wels and Hels Become Smol

This s what I’m counting as a ‘First Chapter’ but let me know what you think! I’ll write more if y’all like it :D

Summary: Tired of his evil clone, Wels asks Beef to make a new machine to pull Hels out of history. Though....It doesn’t really work that way. Some malfunctions cause a bit of de-aging.

TW: Smoke, sparks, the kinda stuff in terrible machinery. Also brief blood mention but overall not a very triggering chapter.

Characters: Welsknight, Helsknight, VintageBeef, Xisuma

Enjoy!

—————————

It was inevitable. At some point, Wels was going to go back up to Beef asking if by any chance he could get rid of Hels. And at some point, Beef was going to comply and create a whole new machine to test out on the knights. And at some point, Wels was going to drag Hels out of his dimension to use the machine and Hels was going to dread losing his body that he only just got a couple weeks beforehand.

So, that’s where they were now. Underground in Beef’s testing room while Wels discussed the instructions with Beef and how the machine worked, which it probably wouldn’t. Hels on the other hand just sulked against the wall with his arms crossed. He had no sword, no armor, a wrapped arrow wound on his arm from having to be forced down there after being held at bow point.

Beef really wasn’t all too excited if he were being honest. Mostly since he didn’t have a lot of faith in the machine working but surely if he reversed some settings here and there, Hels would disappear and the Hermitcraft server would have one less evil doppelgänger to worry about. Though, his cloning machine was technically successful and Hels really hadn’t done any harm since he just stayed in his dimension. There wasn’t really a need for this.

But, either way, it came down to Wels, who made it very clear that he held such a distaste for his evil counterpart. That being said, Beef instructed both knights to step inside the machine at the same time holding a clock. Really, he intended for it to work like a time machine but without Wels going back in time. Essentially, if it was going to work, he would be able to pick and choose what did and didn’t happen on the day Hels was created and thus Hels would disappear and the whole thing would be forgotten.

Reluctantly, Hels shuffled inside the glass tube connecting from the ceiling to the floor with Wels and snatched the clock from the patiently waiting Beef outside of it. Weld rolled his eyes but who was he to judge. He certainly didn’t want to be erased from history more than Hels did but it had to be done if the evil hermit had ill intentions for their lovely server.

“And you’re really sure you wanna go through with this?” the butcher clarified before he handed Wels his clock. A bit of guilt emerged with what he was about to do, but again, it was Wels’s decision.

Wels hardly hesitated with his answer. “Yes, I do. If Evil Xisuma can escape banning then I’m not risking anything.” The knight eyed his counterpart as he said it, only earning a hard glare in return.

“You were better off just killing me,” Hels replied with a sneer. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Beef shrugged, handing Wels his clock. He took a last glance at Hels who made an obvious commitment to avoiding eye contact. Before the butcher could really dwell on it further, he shut the iron door on the machine and moved behind a newly mined out area in the back of the room. Thick layers of glass separated it from the machine for the sake of his own safety and redstone connected to a leaver trailed from the machine through a small hole by his feet.

“Alright, you guys ready? And again, Wels, you’re absolutely positively 100% sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” both knights dragged.

Beef sighed. “Okay, here we go then.”

The butcher took the lever and flipped it, almost kind of surprised that it even turned on. Lights and buttons on the wall flashed periodically, the smooth whirring noise lasted more than five seconds, and neither of the knights expressed any unusual discomfort from what he could see. Good signs, that meant that he could open the control panel and begin removing Hels.

Though, he must’ve spoken too soon when the whirring began becoming choppy, sparks replacing its paused seconds. Where the sparks came from, bits of smoke emerged and the moment the other two saw it, they, even Hels, sent Beef very worried expressions.

The malfunctions continued when various beeping voiced from the machine and the clouds of smoke grew larger.

“Ohh….that cannot be a good sign,” Beef muttered, pulling his hands to his hair. Admittedly, he should’ve just shut off the machine but he was too busy freaking out.

“Uh, Beef?” Wels began, his voice sounding muddled from the loud sounds in the room. Yet, Beef could hear him. The knight pointed at his clock. “I don’t wanna assume but I don’t think this was supposed to happen!”

That earned a smack upside head from Hels.

“Just give it a second I think it’ll figure itself out!” Beef decided, still ignoring the lever beside him.

“Oh for the love of- I’m breaking out!” Hels announced. Before his fist even made it to the glass, every light in the room shut off with a loud crack, the machine shutting down with it and the sound of shattering glass.

Startled, the butcher covered his face, only peeking through his fingers when all he heard was silence. No snarky comment from Hels, no attempt at an uplifting comment from Wels. He pulled his hands from his face, trying to look through the thick layers of smoke in the room on the other side of the glass. He couldn’t see the figures of either knight and at that moment, he began panicking, wondering if he had just erased both of them from history all together.

Quickly, he ran into the clouded room, glass crunching under his feet, muttering curses along the way. The entire tube was no longer there, just in shards on the floor. He waited for a second, watching the smoke thin a little more before continuing. Thankfully, some light from the doorway emerged, casting yellow rays into the room. Beef squinted into the used-to-be machine with the new source of light, seeing two much much smaller figures, not hardly a block and a half tall. One stood, wobbling for a second, then falling into the glass from tripping on a wad of something beneath its feet.

And at that moment, Beef heard a child crying.

Oh, oh no. Oh no, no, no, no.

He took off his apron, using it to fan away the smoke. He crouched down near the little figure, letting the light do its work for him. The crying continued, then another child’s cry began and now both of them were crying. As the smoke cleared, two of the smallest toddlers he’d ever seen looked right at him. Sets of the biggest, bluest and reddest, tearful eyes rested on him. The blue eyed toddler notably was covered in scratches from his fall onto the ground.

“Oh my….Wels?” He looked at the red eyed toddler. “Hels?”

For some reason, that only made the blue eyed one, which he’s now assuming is Wels, cry again. Probably since Beef was looking on the brink of a lot of external panic. Hels followed suit, sniffling and then choking on a high pitched sob. The butcher rushed to soothe the both of them, picking them up and moving them upstairs- noting how they were too small for their adult clothes and were now naked. They coughed and choked on the leftover smoke through their tears and that really just made him feel worse.

Finally upstairs, he opted to put the two in the animal farm room. He sat them down on the sandstone and it took a few seconds to get them to release their hands from his shirt. Hels complied, calming down to sniffles and moans. Wels on the other hand didn’t let go. The little knight simply tucked his face into Beef’s chest sadly.

“Wels, buddy, you need to let go so I can get the blood off of you, okay?” Wels moved his head, tilting it up at him. Who was he kidding, Beef’s heart melted at the little guy. Though, the snot running down his mouth was a bit of a pain since he now had it all over his shirt.

“Okay,” the toddler mumbled. Beef let out a sigh of relief, thank god he knew words. When did children even start speaking, he was unsure, but Wels understood him and that was all that mattered.

With that, he sat him on the floor next to his twin, Beef moving to grab some wool from the sheep for makeshift bandages. When he turned back from his crafting table, he found the knights staring at the pigs. Despite their still shared worry and obvious fear, they occasionally giggled at the pigs who squealed and oinked at them.

“That a piggy?” Beef tested. Just to see what they knew.

“Piggy,” the two said back to him. “Piggy, piggy, piggy, piggy, piggy!” At the word, they erupted into a fit of snorts and laughs, momentarily forgetting their previous moods. That was until Beef approached Wels with a bucket of water and the wool cloths.

“Be brave for me, okay? You’re a tough knight,” he ruffled the child’s hair and was pleased when he stuck out his legs to him. “Thanks, bud, won’t be more than a minute.”

With a patience he didn’t know a toddler could have, considering Wels didn’t hardly squirm away from his grip, he finished in no more than a couple minutes. He washed off the little knight’s knees while the other decided he was bored and went to stick his hands up in the glass pig pen. The butcher’s heart warmed at the sound of the little giggles from it when the pigs didn’t hesitate to lick his hand. Hels pulled his hand back with a squeal, grabbing his counterpart’s attention.

Wels pointed at the pigs, looking at Beef. “Piggy?”

“Sure,” Beef exhaled with a shrug. He left the knight to have his fun with his twin, and the pigs. Now, he needed to make them some clothes. Maybe armor? The thought of toddler sized knight’s armor made him chuckle to himself.

He went to the sheep, grabbing red and blue eyes from the chest. With haste, he sheered the newly died sheep of both colors and set off to the crafting table on the other side of the room while the boys moved to the cows. Sewing wasn’t hard, that was a skill he needed in survival. He knew how to make shirts so it was just like making tiny versions of those shirts and with leg holes and buttons. Easy onesies for the twins.

Momentarily, he was distracted by the two mimicking the mooing coming from the cows. He already knew that would get annoying very quickly.

Beef had a thought while he was making the onesies. We’re they potty trained? Did he need to make diapers as well? How on earth do you handle a toddler? Shaking his head, he opted to make some cloth diapers for the both of them, not wanting to be wrong if he guessed they were already potty trained. The last thing he needed was an accident.

Finishing the onesies and diapers, he whistled at the boys, catching their attention. He held up the onesies and they dramatically awed at his craftsmanship. Beef couldn’t help but to feel a bit of pride at that.

Eagerly, they stumbled up to him to put on their new clothes. One at a time, he clipped the diapers on the, with a safety pin. Then, he slid the onesies on the two and marveled at how they giggled at each other happily, poking at each other’s outfits. Gosh, it was so darn cute.

Now, the real question came to mind. What on earth does he do with them? He’s nowhere near fit for fatherhood at the moment and he needed a lot of alone time to fix that machine. He’d have to explain to Xisuma what happened, won’t he. He’s already imagining how that conversation would go. Hey Xisuma, I just turned two of your Hermits into children please help me. That would end in either utter confusion or laughter. Probably both, knowing the admin.

“Alright then,” he began. The knights looked up at him expectantly. “You guys wanna see Xisuma?” They tilted their heads in unison at the question.

“Is Suma?” Wels asked.

“Iggsooma,” Hels added, as if he were correcting his twin.

Beef grinned at their odd little relationship. “Yeah! Xisuma!”

He threw on his elytra from his inventory, dark wings spreading slightly behind his back. Again, the knights awed at him and he couldn’t help but to laugh. The butcher scooped them up into his arms, the two still weighing not nearly as much as he thought they would but working with sandstone was no easy task.

The trio made their way out of his desert village. He moved Hels to sit with Wels on his other arm so that he could fire off his rockets. As soon as he was in the sky, the knights were squealing with delight at the shrinking ground below them. It took no time to reach Xisuma’s jungle, but where the admin was right now, Beef actually had no clue. In chat, he said something about the iron farm so he flew into the landing bay on it.

Letting both toddlers down on the floor, he pulled out his communicator, letting his friend know that there was an urgent meeting they needed to have up there. It took no time for Xisuma to reply with a yes, much to Beef’s relief. Pocketing his comm, he turned to where the knights ran off to. Really, they were quite interested in the assortment of colorful shucker boxes laying on the floor.

Not to much of his surprise, he already heard another set of flapping wings landing on the bay.

“Alright then, what seems to be the- oh my goodness me.” Xisuma paused abruptly at the sight of the toddlers. Who he could only assume was Wels and Hels given Beef’s message. “Why are they children?!”

Ignoring his concern, they ran up to him happily.

“Suma!” the blond yelled.

Xisuma crouched down, meeting their height as best he could. They were just so small, he wouldn’t have ever expected this. They giggled at his silly looking helmet, the white feathers on the sides were certainly a sight to behold. He ducked his head to let them poke and prod as they pleased.

“Beef, what did you do?” the admin asked.

“Ah, long story. Wels created an evil doppelgänger of himself and in attempts to remove him with a new machine I made, I uh….” he gestured at the two. “That happened.”

“O….kay then. Well, what exactly do I do? I can’t really just change their ages through coding.”

Beef’s stomach sank. “You can’t?”

Xisuma chuckled at how Wels sat promptly in his lap, looking up at him with a snort. Hels copied him, sitting next to him. “Hm, no, I don’t believe so. You’ll need to fix that machine of yours.”

“Well, I uh, need alone time for that. I can’t take care of children at the same time.”

Xisuma nodded, wrapping his arms around the toddlers and standing, carrying both of them while they swung their legs. “Yeah, they’re adorable, I’ll admit, but I don’t have a place to keep em’ nor the time to look after them.” He walked over to Beef, plopping them in his arms. The other stumbled, concern spreading across his face.

“Who do I take them to, then?”

The admin tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I believe Cleo used to be a teacher in her older days, I think preschool might’ve been a part of that? If not, ask Stress or, I dunno, Joe? They seem fit for the task.” Finally, he shrugged. “Anyways, I’ll be off then. If there’s any trouble, you know where I am.” He waved, the knights waving back happily.

“Bye bye Suma!” they said. Xisuma laughed, nodding off to them before flying out of the landing bay. Beef in return huffed.

Why did Wels have to go through with such an idea.

[carpenoctemzine]

Carpe Noctem [an original vampire zine]:

Interest Check Results 📊

At long last, the results of our interest check are here!

First, thank you all (again) for your interest in our zine. We were blown away by the amount of responses we got (238??) and in such a short time! We were already at 100 responses in the first 24 hours of posting the interest check; we’re so glad everyone is just as excited as we are!

Moreover, thank you for sticking with us through some early delays. Your continued support means a lot and we’re incredibly grateful.

Some housekeeping: You may have noticed that we’re currently in the process of updating our social media, so pardon our dust. We have however updated our FAQ with some new info. We’re also getting close to launching our applications before the end of the month! Leading up to applications, we’ll be doing some official Mod Introduction posts, so you can get to know us better :’)

⯎ GENERAL BREAKDOWN ⯎

Participation:

We’re looking at an art-heavy zine, with a strong writer showing as well (considering space needed for writing vs. art, we’re aiming for a fairly balanced book)

Price Range:

Main Zine $20-$30 range. Zine + Merch tiers: $30-$40 and above.

Funds:

Split Profit (more details TBA!)

Zine Format:

Both Physical and Digital versions A possible Digital expansion Inclusion of a NSFW / 18+ booklet

Merch:

While final merch will be confirmed later, we can confidently say we will have:

art prints enamel pins sticker sheets keychains large stickers

And that’s the highlights! Keep an eye out for our more upcoming announcements (soon...) and as always, feel free to drop us an ask.

[ Detailed Breakdown and Image IDs below "Keep reading" ].

F A Q   ☽  M O D S  ☆  T W I T T E R  ☾  A S K

⯎ DETAILED BREAKDOWN ⯎

⯈ Participation

Most people are interested in participating as artists, with a whopping total of 156 responses (47.7%). 100 responses are interested in buying the zine (30.6%), and 71 indicated interest in participating as writers (21.7%). 

⯈ Price Range

Survey participants chose from four different ranges: $15-$20, $20-$30, $30-$40, and $50+. The results for just purchasing the zine were closely tied at 114 responses for the $15-$20 tier, and 115 for the $20-$30 tier, with only 9 responses for the $30-$40 tier. For zine + merch bundles, there were 49 responses for the $20-$30 tier, 128 responses for the $30-$40 tier, and 34 responses for the $50+ tier. 

⯈ Zine Funds

Zine funds indicate where the profits would go. We were deciding between for profit, non-profit, and split profit. The results were largely in favor of split-profit (48.7%) with solely for-profit in second place (36.1%) and solely non-profit last (15.1%). We have decided to go with split profit. Specific charitable organization(s) will be decided after final contributors weigh in.

⯈ Zine Format

Most want a physical zine (76.9%) while a lot want both physical and digital formats available (14.7%), and some want just a digital copy (8.4%). We plan on having both a physical and digital option, and depending on the amount of applications we receive, we’re also open to the idea of having an expanded digital version so we can increase the number of accepting contributors while remaining economical.

18+ Booklet?

While the results aren’t displayed on our graphs here, the responses to our question about a possible 18+ booklet were highly in favor. Thus, we will be having a supplemental 18+ booklet along with our main zine and merch. More details on that to come.

⯈ Merch Options

We had a ton of merch options! Note that we may add more types of merch later. To go over our top merch choices:

Small Art prints: 157 (70.7%)

Enamel Pins: 150 (67.6%)

Sticker Sheets: 141 (63.5%)

Keychains: 127 (52.2%)

Large Stickers: 118 (53.2%)

Bookmarks: 102 (45.9%)

Bonus Art Booklet: 93 (41.9%)

Buttons: 90 (40.5%)

Larger Art Prints: 89 (40.1%)

Handmade Mod Bonuses: 48 (21.6)

While our exact offerings will be partially determined by our contributors and what they’d like to create, most of these will likely be available with the zine. We’re also workshopping some ideas for more writing-based merch offerings, so our writers can get in on the merch fun as well~

⯎  IMAGE IDs ⯎

[Image ID: A series of four images. The first image is a black and white Victorian style picture with the words interest check results on it. In the image are three figures. The main figure is a woman-presumably a vampire-with a shawl over her head and back and dark hair. She is reaching over the second main figure, a blonde woman laying on her back in bed asleep, an arm over her head and the blanket pulled part way down. In the background is the third figure, a man in a Victorian style suit with short hair and a moustache. He is entering the room and still part way behind the door, unnoticed by the other two figures. In a hand obscured by the door he is holding a long knife, possibly a sword, and his gaze is focused on the dark haired woman with a serious expression on his face.

The second image is half a black and white picture and half a pie chart infographic, described above under Participation. The picture depicts a Victorian couple, a woman and a man, embraced in a kiss. The woman has long dark hair, a wide hate with a dark feather on top, and a dark dress with a bustle. Her arms and hands are around the man's head and neck as they kiss. The man is wearing a long coat, his back turned towards the viewer so the rest of his clothes are obscured. He has his hat in one hand and the other is obscured. His hair is dark and there are large, bat-like wings emerging from his back.

The third image is half a black and white picture and half a stacked bar graph and pie chart infographic, described above under Price Range and Zine Funds. The picture is a window like image depicting an outdoor scene. There are two main figures, with a large crowd of less distinct figures in the background, watching the two in the foreground. Both main figures are men, both wearing white shirts and wearing hats of two different styles. The one in the front is near the bottom of a hole, kneeling in front of an open coffin with a skeleton inside. He has a leather vest over his shirt and a dark beard with a moustache. He is driving a stake through the skeletons chest area and recoiling as it results in a cloud of smoke, his other hand up to protect his face. The man further back is also recoiling from the cloud and has a very shocked expression on his face. He has one arm up to protect his face and the other hand is still holding a shovel. In the background at the front of the watching crowd is a finely dressed man with poufy sleeves and a large feathered hat who seems to be supervising the event with an indistinct expression. Under the image is a caption that reads “Le Vampire, lithographie de R. de Moraine, tirée des Tribunaux secrets”.

The fourth image is half a black and white picture and half a pie chart and bar chart infographic, described above under Zine Format and Merch Options. The picture is of two figures. The main figure is a woman with dark hair, dark eyeshadow, and a white dress. She is in profile, but glancing down at the second figure. a man who is lying on his back in bed. She is kneeling on the bed next to him, her hands on either side of his chest while she has a seductive smile on, revealing pointed fangs. The man is in a loose shirt, still asleep. One arm is hanging over the side of the be, while his other hand rests on top of his chest. He has short dark hair and a moustache. End Image ID.]

F A Q   ☽  M O D S  ☆  T W I T T E R  ☾  A S K

[x0401x]

Maybe I’m challenged as I don’t see a PM button. Do I have to have tumblr account to see it?

Hum, yes. Sorry, I assumed you had an account. >_<’

Ack! You pinpointed the error in my analogy. Yes, hurting family and friends is one thing, but abandoning your brother/sister in arms is awful at a whole different level!

Especially if you’re in love with that sister-in-arms, yes.

I think we agree more on principles and differentiate in characterization. Here’s one that I’m sure you would agree. Yes, V’s social awkwardness is endearing. However, V’s smoothly tutoring Amy in mannerism befitting a debutante in the prior movie, and then improperly responding to the city mayor and non-diplomatically rebuking Hodgins’ overprotective gesture in the latest movie is just incongruous. I even dare to say lazy writing?  From that angle, I recall you frustratingly wrote about how V is dumbed down in the first anime movie.

I think you would also share the popular take of the anime Dietfried, where he literary turned saintly (thanks to V’s endless graceful response to his mean streaks) and became an admirable true older brother. I was hoping Gil would come back and scolded dickfried. Thus imagine how dumfounded I got when anime Dietfried told his weak and arguably selfish younger brother that he wanted to put Gil in a sack and throw it before Violet. That’s beyond 180 turn! It might as well be a novel alternate reality like IF (except less disturbing O__O … I still don’t know what to make of Diet-V relationship there!).

Yes and yes.

Btw, despite minimum coverage of anime Gil, looks like he went through similar catharsis and as remorseful as V for his role in the war. This change of heart is evident as he lived and served in former enemy territory among the very people whose sons and brothers he and Violet had most likely killed. The novel Gil had no such character development. Still, I snorted out loud when I read your pointing out all the plot holes in the movie, which added to gil’s jackassery.

That was a good one from the movie, I agree. But I’m sure that if novel!Gil had to live in an isolated island in a former enemy nation, he’d do the exact same thing. It’s not like he hated the enemies. He was just protecting his country.

Now, here’s a different take of V’s wholeness up to the reunion. Comparing the reunion in the anime vs the novel, the anime V is more whole. How come? Well, the novel V still viewed herself as a tool requiring order then, the anime one did not. Further, a true test of character is how one reacts when one does not get what one wants. The novel V was well rewarded for all the years of clinging ludicrously to the belief that Gil was alive. After all, he came to her rescue for the reunion. The girl soldier did not experience that unfathomable rejection from her everything. In contrary, anime V received painful rejection upon attempting to reunite. She searched all over, learned new profession, went through nervous breakdown, even resorted to suicide attempt for what turns out to be a weak man who chose to wallow in sorrow. This is undoubtedly unfair and painful to her, and the audience. It is heart piercing sad when the person with whom you create memory with becomes a memory. Yet she resolved to move on. Beyond moving on, there was not an ounce of resentment or even entitlement for an apology. That tear-jerking last letter exudes an attitude of gratitude as she listed EVERY single thing that weak, broken man had gifted her. Despite all his flaws, his love for her had become her way of living. How his kindness beget kindness of her own, which she generously shared with Amy and Taylor Bartlett among many others. Thus, the anime V is more noble and whole (at reunion) than her novel counterpart.

OP, you’re comparing the wrong Violet. ^^’ Remember that the anime has a different timeline? Movie!Violet is post-Gaiden. Novel!Violet during their reunion is pre-Gaiden. You should be comparing Ani!Violet with how Novel!Violet was in Gaiden chapter 6. The Violet who understands love more, who realizes that she was in love with Gil from day one, who had opened up to a romantic relationship, in which she’ll have to be equal to him and thus will never again be treated as a tool or receive orders from him.

As for the “how she reacts when she doesn’t get what she wants” thingy... I’m not sure if you recall, but Novel!Violet found out that Gil was alive way before their reunion. And she chose to let him be. She simply continued living like normal and waiting for him. If he decided to reunite with her, good. If he didn’t, that would be sad as fuck to her, but she would leave him alone, just as she had been doing all those months in-between summer and fall when she knew that he was all right and just moved on with her life.

So, yeah, I think they were both just as noble and whole. I’d actually give Novel!Violet more points because she didn’t even try to go change his mind. She simply took the obvious conclusion, which must have hurt a ton when looking back on all she had gone through, and respected his will.

Aw very kind of you to thank me for military service. By God’s grace I was spared from Gilbert and Violet’s type of service, but I did struggle to move on after service. A new career in emergency medicine has afforded me the privilege to be front and center as children, sibling, friend, and parent pass away by their loved ones. In the process, I learned to steer from being cold and aloof.  I compartmentalize well which enabled me to remain a functional professional throughout those traumatic moments, but the novel and anime let me process those compartments long after. It is eerily poignant how relatable VE journey is.  When lamentations over the end of dreams and relationships got overwhelming, the obligation to care for hurting patients pulled me away from the immobilizing self-pity. That pinky promise and thank you letter also hit home very hard. A year prior to the movie release, I did exactly those with a dearest person, whose life I am no longer a part of. I guess I internalize this work of fiction a bit too much eh? To me, VE is a profound lesson in empathy through the journey of loving, losing, longing, n letting go.

It’s not too much at all! It’s actually wonderful to know more and more about how relatable VE is to people who work/worked in the military, because I’m sure Akatsuki-sensei did her research on that.

All in all, thank you for bequeathing a space to pour the feels after the movie drained my tear ducts =) Honto ni arigatou gozaimas

You’re always welcome here, OP! Bless you. :>

[im-the-king-of-the-ocean]

Rose Puppetry Ch5: Caught in the Web of Mr. Spider

Summary:

A century ago or so, Atlas set out to conquer the world.  Penny was built to be a spy, an infiltrator meant to find weaknesses in Vale’s defenses before the invasion.

She did.  Then she fell in love.  And rebelled against the kingdom that had created her.

Ch1.  Ch2.  Ch3.  Ch4.

Chapter Content Notes: graphic imagery of spiders, violence, character death, attempted murder, stabbing, references to actual character murder, mind control/possession, comas

I would like to take a moment and remind everyone that this fic is roughly inspired by the Mechanism’s album Once Upon A Time (In Space) and that that narrative’s climax is rather gruesome.  Additionally, this chapter especially was influenced by the Magnus Archives, which is a horror podcast.

Please take those facts into consideration prior to reading.

I would also like to remind you all that there is one more chapter after this one, and thus the fic does not conclude here.

“Ruby?”

Penny speaks her beloved’s name over and over again.  Her voice, a cracking repetition of a broken, almost hopeless recording caught on a looping tape.  The mechanical girl who had come and fought so hard can do nothing but stare.  She hopes the sight before her isn’t real, that she’s mistaken, that this isn’t how their story ends.

Some history books will say it is.  They will narrate the story of a miserable failure of a military project.  One who rebelled against her creators, her masters, and cost not only herself, but the one she loved her life.  These history books will be produced in the harsh, cold printing presses that remain loyal to the faltering Atlesian throne.  A desperate attempt to rewrite history in their favor, but not much more than that really.

Other books, ones with a bit more accuracy, will know better.  For even if there is a ‘happily ever after’ or a ‘the end’ to a story, there’s always a moment after that.  Something that happens next.  Right up until the final end of death comes for the characters.

And neither Penny nor Ruby are quite dead yet.

So it really would be a sad, sorry tale that reaches its conclusion here, wouldn’t it?

The rebels infiltrate the menacing fortress to save the innocent girl and are felled by her hand, now corrupted by the darkness that had ensnared her.  No hope of a happy tomorrow.  Simply a brutal, violent end and a laboratory awash in blood.

For that’s what happens when you wander into a spider’s web.  You tend to get caught by the spider.  And, you know, eaten.

The thing, the crucial detail, that must be taken into account about this tale, though.  The one thing those Atlesian history books will try to wipe away and conceal and keep the public from knowing.  The little detail that keeps this ending from being the true ending of the story.

It’s simply that Ruby Rose is not the spider.

Of course, she is something, and historians (and, after them, archivists) will have quite a wondrous time debating amongst themselves what exactly she is.  But, what she is not, is the spider.  The hungry arachnid who waits so long for its prey to come, who binds its meal tightly in silky thread for later consumption.

Some, and they will have fairly strong evidence for their cause, will argue Ruby was simply the first caught in the spider’s web.  Those ones have a valid, if not entirely understanding of the circumstances as a whole, point.

A spider’s web is a sticky, tricky thing.  When you’re all alone in it, you may see little hope of escape, of anything but the spider’s looming, menacing legs, its snapping jaws, or its eight dark, beady eyes.  But that’s only if and when the spider chooses to focus on you.  They are, after all, creatures that can be distracted.  Ones that can decide to eat something—someone—else.  So, maybe Ruby was the spider’s first chosen meal, but she was one left unfinished due to the arrival of an enticing, delectable follow up.

A spider’s web also happens to be a delicate thing and, if put under too much weight, may potentially collapse.

Let us now return to the scene and become observers, ceaseless watchers, to what happens when this particular web takes on quite a bit of weight.

Are you scared yet?  You’re probably wondering if you should be.  It’s natural, of course.  Debating whether or not you should trust the words you read.  Should you stop here?  What if it gets worse?  But, it’s pretty bad here.  Do you really want this ending to be the ending?

What happens when you don’t stop, though?  When you continue reading the words, bringing them into the reality of being Known?  Didn’t expect to be trapped reading a tale without recourse on how to know if the true end is horrible or not without going along with it until it reaches it’s natural conclusion, did you?

Have you considered that, perhaps, it is you who is trapped in the spider’s web?

So, tell me, how much do you really want to know?  You’re curious, aren’t you?  Driven.  Eager to witness all that happens here.  Why would you remain otherwise?

Let’s see how it goes, shall we?

Our story, our statement, resumes.

Ever so slowly, Ruby turns her head and looks at Penny.  There is no recognition, no emotion of any kind on her face.  Ruby blinks, or, rather, she closes her eyelids and opens them again in a movement that could be perceived as a blink.  A movement that makes her a stranger to Penny.

“Ruby,” Penny repeats, as if the simple utterance of the name will break the spell.  No such enchantment that can be so easily undone exists.  Not here.  Not now.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?”

New footsteps echo through the laboratory.  Penny spins around.  Dr. Watts makes his way over from the door.  Each step he takes is measured and calculated.  His past projects, those horrible menaces whispered about in fear, file into the room behind him.

Cinder looks at the scene laid out before her and smirks.  Tyrian laughs.  Hazel blocks the doorway with his bulk.

“For a super weapon, I expected you to be smarter than to simply walk into what was so obvious a trap.”  Dr. Watts chuckles at Penny.  “Foolish of me to underestimate the weakness of love, I suppose.”

“Let.  Ruby.  Go.”  Penny clenches her fists.  She raises her daggers.  She doesn’t have the advantage here, but that won’t stop her.

“If you insist.”  Watts waves a dismissive hand.  With his other, he takes a remote out from his pocket and clicks a button on it.  The clasps around Ruby’s wrists and ankles snap open.  He turns to walk away, but pauses before he exits the laboratory.  “Do try to leave at least some of them intact,” he tells Cinder, Tyrian, and Hazel.  “It would be a pity for so many good bodies to go to waste.”  He exits.

Penny turns to Ruby one last time.  “Ruby…”  This time it’s a begging sob that escapes her lips.  “Please, no.”

Ruby stands.  She reaches around herself, to the sheath attached to her belt.  Her fingers wrap around the hilt of the blade there.  Ruby withdraws the weapon.  There’s no sign she recognizes the desperate plea in Penny’s eyes.

The sword slashes through the air.

Penny dodges.  She retreats away from Ruby’s attack.  Her daggers hover around her.  She can’t bring herself to command them to retaliate.

“Ruby, please, it’s me, it’s Penny!  You have to recognize me!”

Ruby draws back.  For a brief, hopeful second, Penny thinks she’s gotten through to her love.  A small smile appears on Penny’s lips.  It almost immediately falls away.

Ruby lifts her hand not holding the sword.  Around it, thick, black sludge forms.  It branches out into a limb all of its own.  Bleached white claws emerge at its tips, like grotesque fingers.  There’s a second where the Grimm arm moves and shifts, as if adjusting to its own weight.  A twisted smirk appears on Ruby’s face.  She looks between her new appendage and Penny.

Penny’s daggers come to bear a defensive position in front of her without her telling them to.  The Grimm arm tries to dart around them, but the daggers cut through it like butter.  It disintegrates into dust.  Ruby screams.  Her voice is loud, hoarse, and pained.  Penny hesitates, doesn’t take the opening.  She can’t… she doesn’t…she needs to…but it’s Ruby!  RUBY!

She can’t just kill her.  Penny glances behind her, at where she knows her team is, but there is no aid to be found there.  Cinder, Tyrian, and Hazel are on the attack.  The less said about that carnage, the better.  Penny is on her own.  She turns back to Ruby and, with every fiber of her being protesting, she prepares to fight.

I’ll make it quick, Penny tells Ruby in her head.  You don’t deserve this suffering.  I’m sorry.  I’m so, so sorry.

Penny ducks Ruby’s sword, and feigns to the left.

I’m sorry that this is how it ends.

Penny commands her daggers to cut through the Grimm limbs Ruby keeps painfully forming and sending at her.  She refuses to allow herself to wince at the agonizing screams.

I’m sorry you didn’t get to live a long and happy life.

Penny sees her opening.  Ruby has faltered.  Penny allows herself a second to take a breath, and then she lunges.  Her daggers all are pointed forward, ready to complete the death blow.

I’m sorry you ever had the misfortune of knowing me.

Penny’s killing blow doesn’t make its target.  Ruby faked her out.  Midway into Penny’s attack, she dodges.  Penny has no time to change course.  Her eyes widen.  Ruby’s Grimm limbs surround Penny, grab her, hold her.

Horror takes over Penny’s face.  She knows what’s going to happen right before the final Grimm arm makes the plunge into her chest.  Her mind goes blank with the pain.  Whether or not she’s screaming, Penny has no idea.

Ruby’s darkness, her corruption, seeps into Penny, worming its way to the mechanical girl’s heart, her core.  For Penny can only be destroyed if it is.  The Annihilation reaches its target.  It circles its prey, completely surrounding it.  It surges in for the kill.

In that dreadful moment, Death doesn’t come.  It was never going to.  It has, shall we say, a feel, for these things.  It knew, all throughout this battle, how it would end.  Death knew it would not be necessary to send its Reaper here.

The Silver Eye, which had protecting Ruby’s soul and had waited and waited and watched for its opportunity finally found its chance.  When the Grimm entombing it reached out to destroy the one its guardian loved, the Silver Eye, for the first time in its existence, felt something.

Remember, the Eye, on its own, had never been a whole.  It was forged, by the King of Vale, out of the remaining half of the Staff of Creation.  Though it could exist on its own, it never truly stopped longing to find its missing, stolen part.  And, when its prison made that final, almost deadly attack, through those dark tendrils ensnaring it, the Silver Eye finally felt that echo, that reverberation, that it had ached for for so very long.

In that moment, it wakes up and reaches.

Blinding silver light shines out through the laboratory.  Every vestige of Annihilation’s power, every bit of Grimm, inside a person or out, is disintegrated.  For those who have long since opened their arms to Destruction and allowed its influence into themselves, this means Death finally comes for its dues.  For Ruby, who the Silver Eye loves and cherishes, this means purification from her corruption.  For Penny, this means her life is spared and, from within her, the Silver Eye is answered.

Once upon a time, the General King of Atlas found the blueprints for an old inventor’s creation.  He saw it as a grand opportunity to build a great weapon for the glory of his kingdom.  To fuel it, he saw no better resource than his kingdom’s relic itself.  He split the Staff of Creation in half, stored one part away for later use and fashioned the other into a core for the new automaton.

Unbeknownst to him, in doing this, the General King created a mirror to the Silver Eye; the Winter Soul.  A new entity all of its own, it was.  One curious, fascinated about the world around it, and ever so willing to learn.

Is it such a shock then, that was built to be a weapon of immeasurable power turned its back to this objective and instead chose to attempt to understand and love the world it found itself in?  Is it such a shock that it came to love one who would be later chosen to preserve life itself?

Much has been written and recorded about the Fall of Atlas.  There are numerous accounts of the sudden surge of blinding light that shone across the kingdom.  Many theorize, but they do not know the truth of its source.  What they do know is that it wiped out the city’s mainframe and, for the first time in history, Atlas was left vulnerable.  It didn’t take long for the Rebellion’s ships to rise from Mantle and begin that final, gruesome attack after that.

Later, the Rebellion’s charge into Atlas Academy, of their slaughter of the robotic forces of the Atlesian Military, will be dramatized into something far more glorious and far less bloody than it was.  The retellings will focus on the storming of the throne room, of the General King being forced to his knees in surrender, the capture of the notorious Dr. Watts.  They will applaud the victories of the day, and blatantly ignore the executions of the weeks to follow.

And so, Atlas’s web of power collapses, crumpling into a thousand twisting, tangled threads.  The spider, the warmonger, who sat at its center, weaving and warping the world into something that suited him and only him, and growing fat off the results, is squashed.

Those two who were responsible, who gave the world the chance it needed to rid itself of the boot pressing down upon its throat, they were never known.

For Ruby, now saved from the Grimm but forever scarred by it, looks down upon the sleeping form of her fallen beloved, sees the full extent of Penny’s injuries, gathers her up in her arms, and steals her away to where she can be repaired.

In peace.

[tarithenurse]

If I succeed - 13

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x fem!Reader Content: Angst? Saltiness? Lore. Tension. Sarcasm. A/N: The mood most of us can relate to a lot these days: BLLLLEEEEAAAARRRGHHHH!! And as such: I didn’t proof read this *shrugs*. Want a tag? Send an ask or reblog! A strikethrough means I’m unable to tag you. I’d love comments and feedback – even if it’s corrections on language or whatever. I’m not picky as long as I know my work brings joy too. (No, the GIF has nothing to do with the story, but I thought it was hilarious)

13 – Reconstrucdead

...   Jaskier   ...

Whyyyy does my head hurt more than after the wedding of Lady Demavend? Careful not to move, the bard considers if the pain would increase by opening the eyes. Then he muses (still with eyes closed) over the reasoning behind the throbbing ache at the side of his skull – there is something thoroughly non-hangoverish about it. What’s the last I can remember? A moment later he tries to forget it is a memory, the figure unfurling from the darkness and straightening up to reveal skeletal limbs and a deformed face with thin, sharp fangs. Let it be a dream. It’s a dream, it’s a dream, it’s a dream...it IS a dream because a real vampire would have killed me rather than tugged me between blankets like a swathed child. The realization confuses Jaskier enough to open his eyes.

The wall he is nestled against in the cave where he finds himself is painted with peach and rose from the sun, warm hues that are not reflected in the temperature of the rays before the sun sinks beneath the layer of clouds and out of sight. The rest of the place is cast in cold shadows, only here and there broken by a bright flame or, further away where a jagged rift runs along the cavern, plumes of coloured smoke illuminated from below and surrounded by stark silhouettes in constant motion.

Trying to sit up, Jaskier’s motions are hampered by tight ropes but not enough to prevent him from looking for his friend. [Y/N]. May the Maiden keep you safe until Geralt finds us.

...  Geralt   ...

Oddly, Roach is standing by herself, ears flat and flanks shivering despite nosing through the few items scattered where the others should be until she hears the Witcher approach.

“Fuck.” Nothing else needs saying nor would it feel quite as satisfying.

Allowing the horse to nuzzle into his chest brings a certain calm to the chaos in the heart. Geralt knows what he must do. I’ve done it a thousand times. Somehow, it feels different. More...frightening.

“You know I’ve gotta go...leave you here, hmm?” The soft sound Roach responds with might or might not only be due to the scratches she is receiving between the ears. “Need to go save the day, kill some monsters. As usual.” Golden eyes do not see the world around him anymore but are tracing the lines of a figure in his memories. “As usual.” Then why does it feel nothing like before?

...

There are plenty of traces to follow. A drag of a heel through the dirt of the path. A downtrodden thicket that has managed to survive the heights until this day. A snatch of fabric with an intoxicatingly familiar scent. A blue, carved button.

Despite the cold of the air now that the sun is setting, Geralt sweats under his armour as he follows the invisible trail upwards. The pace is steady though rapid, ensuring a certain level of stealth because he can school his breathing and find sure footing for the large boots. Among his own weapons, sheathed against his back and in the belt, is the dagger belonging to [Y/N] which he had found on the ground with a few strand of hairs on the blade – not a colour belonging to either of his companions.

They’re alive. Every trace points to this conclusion, a knowledge resonating in his soul. Alive. Waiting.

A scratching sound alerts him of a presence on the other side of a nearby crest, and Geralt slides out the sword from the scabbard in a smooth whisper of steel and leather. Waiting time’s over for some.

...   Jaskier   ...

“...but they haven’t eaten us.”

“Vampires don’t eat people...they just drink the blood.”

“Charming,” Jaskier persists, “they haven’t done that either.”

[Y/N]’s sigh is barely audible. “No, we’re worth more alive now they know a Witcher’s coming.”

The grating chuckle coming from one of the creatures in question proves the woman right. How can she be so calm before that...gorgeous monster? It has taken a while for the bard to accept that vampires are not restricted to the gangly, animalistic creatures kept further back in the cave but also include the rather dazzling male standing ramrod-straight in front of the captives.

Alright, maybe not captive in the classical sense as neither of them are restrained anymore. As a matter of fact: Jaskier has been provided with an exquisite lute and asked to play whatever he feels like for the other noble-looking fang-owners. [Y/N]? She has refused everything offered so far.

“Your...companion is quite right,” the flint-voiced vampire admits, “we know the true value of life and death. That is why we don’t kill indiscriminately, despite what horrific tales are told among humans.”

“Ah, yes.” Jaskier winces at the sarcasm dripping from the woman’s reply. “Vampires are simply misunderstood.” She glances icily towards the dark recesses where glowing eyes are the only sign of the less sophisticated of the species.

A smile still remains on the vampire’s lips, now stretched thin in an attempt to still appear benevolent. “They’re what you may call...lesser. A cousin-breed with whom we acquaint ourselves merely due to their practical use as...well, as slaves.”

“Very cultivated indeed.”

Jaskier’s hands are gripping the instrument increasingly tighter as he follows the conversation. “[Y/N]! Mayb-maybe not piss off the neatly dressed leech?” One of her eyebrows arches and suddenly it makes sense why Geralt shuts up when met by that. “Pardon.”

“All is forgiven, young bard,” the leech in mention offers grandiosely, “I do prefer my drinks lively. However...I appreciate if it would call me by my name. Leif Nordbergar.”

As he turns the his attention to his bloodsucking comrades sitting around the fire, Jaskier catches the eye of his co-prisoner and wiggles his eyebrows at the flickering fire. Much to his dismay, he is answered by a subtle shake of the head. Why not? Any more attempts at communication could prove fatal, and only the plead from a ravishing young-looking, fanged woman to play a song distract him from falling into sombre misery.

...  Geralt   ...

It is astounding – or rather a sign of presumptuous arrogance – how few guards have been placed around the place. Several seem to be positioned at the far end of the gulch below from where the wyverns’ clamour rises, and the Witcher already reckons that they are of the same kind as the few straggling patrols he has encountered made up of an odd mix of Bruxae and Nosferats. Strange, the label is not often used by someone like him, they seem...enthralled. Their races are intelligent, capable of tactical fighting as well as disguising themselves to blend in in a community (thus creating a favourable hunting ground if they manage to show restraint). The ones that have met their – temporary – demise at Geralt’s sword showed no signs of brain activity other than the most basic.

Creeping onward, following the scent of tainted smoke, he slowly emerges through the cloud that have wrapped themselves around the mountain’s girth. Up here, the view to the waking stars is clear now and would undoubtedly hold a beauty worth admiring if only The White Wolf had the time.

“-ease! ...singi- ...” The words are broken by distance and obstacles, but the voice is easily recognizable due to the shrill tone Jaskier sports in stressed moment.

Never has such an annoying sound been so welcome, making Geralt smile as he slips into the shadows leading to the cave mouth the voice came from. Slowly. Carefully. Vampires have perfect senses and even the disturbingly lessened have shown no signs of exceptions to the rule – one wrong move, and the Witcher will not be able to orient himself enough to come up with a plan.

He leans against the cool stone, allowing the temperature to seep through the leather armour and into the tense muscles of his back. Breathing silently, the pressure against the natural wall grows and wanes. One. A calm seems to enter him along with the chill. Two. It spreads into strong limbs and hand that holds the silvered sword ready behind him Three!

A second is all it takes for yellow eyes to scan the scene around the fire – to see how closely noble-looking Higher Vampires are lounging around Jaskier whom they proffer a glass filled with a ruby liquid; and [Y/N], sitting poised with the hand of what must be the leader of the bloodsuckers resting on her bared shoulder.

After that second, Geralt finds himself short of air as hatred bubbles like bile in his guts.

[soranihimawari]

what he sees...

word count: 1.8k

tagging: @m0nstergeneration20xx​

warnings/genre: gamer friends to lovers [is that even a thing?]// rated F for fluff

<< |master list|>>

hallway meeting [day 0] :

part of kenma’s daily routine was to roam the halls of his high school during lunch break in search for a stronger wifi signal. recently that proved to be a challenge considering the fact the wifi was acting all wonky during the aftermath of the thunderstorm that occurred two weeks ago. the dual-toned setter was about to abandon all hope and just suffer the penalty for using one of his many devices as a hotspot during school hours.

that plan was almost coming into fruition when he heard a rather pleasant monotone voice pleading with the audio visual club members to take on a new second year recruit. with a resounding and stern, “no,” kenma heard the door close when he rounded the corner. he paused long enough to see the girl in the class across from his lower her closed fist before releasing a short lived sigh. for the life of him, kenma could not remember the name of the student he was quietly observing, but that didn’t stop him from staring at the phone you took out from your blazer pocket.

you held your phone in one hand while using your dominant hand as a mischievous smirk carved its way across your features. you swiftly stepped away in the opposite direction of the clubroom with a few keystrokes of code being typed before you pressed enter. you pretended to not hear the screams of horror when you whistled a tune down the hallway. kenma glanced down at his phone to notice his phone switched from LTE to a new closed wifi server nicknamed “chaos fiber.” it wasn’t password protected, meaning the girl’s device picked up his phone’s presence. kenma let out a chortle before he turned on his heels to head back toward his homeroom.

that afternoon on the train ride back to their neighborhood, kenma was rather quiet,even more so than what his best friend/neighbor had been accustomed to.

“kenma, do you think there’d be aliens on mars?” kuroo baited a question to see if his friend would bite.

“mmhm,” kenma replied; his subconscious was busy trying to remember any noticeable detail from lunch. the mysterious tech angel helped him out, but he didn’t want the rooster haired third year next to him cause a raucous over it. 

“you’re acting strange, even for you,” kuroo said when they were heading off the train and taking the stairs outside to the platform leading to their side of the tokyo suburbs.

“you think so?” kenma quipped knitting his brow.

“i don’t know what happened, but i guess it’s alright for now. you probably need sleep. don’t stay up too late, man.”

“ok.”

the next day right before classes were dismissed for the day, you found yourself tinkering with your mother’s old phone trying to breathe it back to life. you decided to take a break to crack your knuckles and stretch your arms when your class vice-representative, sayo-kun, said you had a visitor. Kenma did not come up with a valid reason why he thought his feet to moved on their own at lunch leading him to an impromptu visit to your class across the hall. 

he wanted to know thank you for sharing the closed wifi name with him because he was able to finally play all this games without any interruptions whatsoever, but since he knew himself to be no expert on romance, he decided to text the team. ok, let’s be real, he texted kai and yaku. if kuroo found out, homeboy would have made a big show out of something so small like kenma’s first high school crush. kenma did receive some decent advice after making the vice captain and libero of his sports club team promise to not tell their captain right away for fear of scaring the girl. 

12:05 

ꜰʀᴍ: ʏᴀᴋᴜ-ᴢᴀ ʟɪʙᴇʀᴏ

ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇʀ? ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴄʟᴀᴍᴍʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴠᴇꜱ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ? ��ᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱᴋ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ɪꜰ ꜱʜᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ᴍᴍʀᴘɢꜱ? 

12:09

ꜰʀᴍ: ᴠɪᴄᴇ ᴄᴀᴘ

ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ ʏᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ʏᴀᴋᴜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ ᴋᴇɴᴍᴀ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɢᴇɴᴜɪɴᴇ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ. ɪꜱɴ’ᴛ ꜱʜᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏꜱ? 

“talk to her, ask her out for some ice cream or pie at the cafe down the street from campus? practice is cancelled today anyways since nekomata has family visiting today,” kenma mumbled the last text kai sent him right before reaching your class’ door.

“can i help you?” your ears were completely oblivious to whomever sayo-kun was talking to while you pressed the power button of the phone on your desk, eyes lighting up with glee as it slowly powered on. You chuckle amused at your own genius turning your mother’s older (and by all means obsolete) phone into an emergency back up of the back up mp3 player.

“hey y/n! kodzume-san’s here to see you,” your classmate said breaking your thought process. 

“thanks,” kenma said quietly brushing past sayo-kun stopping roughly a foot before your desk. He played with his hands a bit as you lowered your arms back on your desk folded on top of each other.

“what can i do for you kenma?” you asked, an eyebrow raised at him. You knew why he was there. you were the one with the wifi server that you closed off to the other audio visual club jerks the other day, but what you didn’t know was what piqued your interest.

“i wanted to say thank you for the other day,” kenma stated in a shy tone. he was testing the waters by taking a step or two forward in your direction. you had this sly smile growing across your face which kenma found kind of endearing. Have you always looked this effortlessly sophisticated? or was that just how nature laid out your kind features every time artificial fluorescent light made your eyes sparkle in the day time.

“ah,” you reply. you bop your head while adding a quick, “i see.”

a fleeting moment of silence passes between you two before you suggest something to him which nearly caused the aloof member of the volleyball team to be caught off guard:

“want to spend a free period with me? a have one coming up right before classes are dismissed today. i’ll be in the computer lab if you’re interested.”

kenma didn’t say anything else, but you took into account the way his pupils dilated in excitement at the invitation right before he accepted your offer. you exchanged contact info once he arrived at the lab an hour later where you helped each other in creating a small network of computers to connect to the fiberware and now password protected “chaos” server from a few weeks ago. every computer that was turned on in the lab had different operating systems running through (of course with the best games downloaded by the seniors beforehand). 

“welcome to the chaos network. wanna play a game?” 

kenma did not have to be asked a second time as he sat down in front of one of the computers and thus began a partnership between you and the pudding haired setter. you brought over an extra wireless keyboard for the game kenma chose to play, laughing with him as he began to design his  lvl 1 character. you did the same when the game prompted kenma to choose to add another member to his party... 

later that evening, when he offered to walk with you to the train station with kuroo saying he had cleaning duty, kenma and you found yourselves headed in the same direction for the platform close by.

“seems like this is where we part,” you say, readjusting your school bag on your shoulder. “thanks for accompanying me earlier. i haven’t been able to play that game yet. i had fun.”

“yeah,me too.” kenma agreed taking out his gaming console again. what you did next, you had no idea why you did it, but you just went with it: you invaded kenma’s personal bubble rather quickly pressing your lips onto the side of his cheek without any forewarning. you retreated back to where you stood in front of him before

“sorry, i should of asked if that was ok,” you apologize in a meek voice admist a now crowded station. kenma shook his head to indicate that it was alright. afterall, his crush just kissed him and his brain had an emergency halt of normal kenma-esc thoughts. “see you tomorrow at school.”

“see you later,” was all he managed to say seeing as you turned to walk to your platform number to wait for your train.

--[ three weeks later]--

A couple of weeks later, you were formally introduced to the rest of the Nekoma Volleyball Club when you mentioned that your gaming partner left behind his switch in the computer room during mid-class break. Needless to say you were bombarded with questions ranging from, “where did you meet kenma,” “what class were you in,” and finally, “are you going to be our manager? You’re practically kenma’s ‘player 2’ already, right?”

Nekomata chuckled at his team, recalling the days of his youth, when something eerily similar happened to his captain at the time.

“Umm,” you cleared your throat before you drew a deep breath in. You closed your eyes on the exhale and tilted your head to the side, curling a hand under your chin in thought. 

“C’mon, you don’t have to answer any of--” Kenma’s voice was pretty even throughout meaning he was getting more annoyed at how everyone else got to ask you those pressing questions, but he had been interrupted. Over the past three weeks, you hung out with kenma more and more, seeing what was his level of comfort around you versus other people. Every time you hung out with him, kenma finally felt himself breathe a little better than before. His crush still clung on to him, so it wasn’t properly addressed until that afternoon when seeing you dropped by unannounced to return his console after you helped free the os for any bugs and malware. 

“I met Kenma in the other side of the hallway where audio/visual club after they shut me down from joining their ‘prestigious’ club, so I launched a virus that killed their LAN party mid-campaign; class 2-5 [college prep]; if you need one, i don’t see why not? I’ve got time to spare. And actually,” your eyes never wavered off Kenma’s beet red ears from the moment you interjected. “I don’t know. You should ask him that when I leave Lev.”

[ The team’s focus switched back to where their setter was standing utterly dumbfounded by your honesty. You’d think you never saw a clowder of kittens look this excited for their ‘brain’ to find someone as wickedly smart (if not smarter) than their captain. ]

Scowling at the tallest first year on the team, Yaku nearly roundhouse kicked his kouhai for the third time that practice. Kai, judging by the way Kuroo and Yamagoto’s jaws went slack after you agreed to be the official team manager right before the prefecture qualifiers were announced, just laughed with a knowing smile. The first years on the team were so enamoured by your bold, yet casual attitude, they could see why their gaming senpai would find someone special like you. Especially since they noticed how Kenma’s usually displeased expressions seemed to have subsided to his version of “i’m not upset, just disappointed,” neutral face during practices lately.

“Do you want to be?” Kenma’s voice was the loudest anyone ever heard him speak, well except for you. This voice you had grown accustomed to when you helped him during a rare monster raid in one of the various mmorpgs you linked your devices to. By now you two were at the half-way point when you were walking toward each other, it was like your bodies just took comfort automatically as though your subconscious knew the other was close. Kenma was facing you and despite his height, you were a little shorter than he was while wearing your ballet flats. 

You extended your hand to hold one of his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Your thumb rubbed miniscule spirals to calm the tensions in his fingers down. Much to their surprise, their setter rested his forehead against your shoulder muttering a “please?” so you did what you do best, you pat the top of his head gently. you avert your gaze for a split second; you hum while you prepare a straightforward answer.

“I thought we already were,” you say with the utmost sincerity in your voice. “Let me know when you get home. See ya Kodzu-san.” Your lips curled into a hauntingly gorgeous smile as you walked away shaking your head. You chewed your bottom lip to stop from screaming in excitement. You introduced yourself with a slight bow toward the coach, asking him to cut the team a little slack with the remainder of time left for practice; you told him you’d also fill out the manager interest form asap.

“Did we just get my second player to be our manager?” Kenma was given enough time to process what he said aloud a few more times. Before he realized what he truly said,he took a knee covering his mouth in a failed attempt at hiding the widest grin he’d ever show his teammates.

Kuroo chuckled, nodding with his answer. “Yep we sure did buddy. Is she the reason why you were acting so strange that day?”

Kenma glared at Kuroo who held up his hands in the air like he was caught stealing cookies before dinner like when they were kids.  

fast forward four days later, you found yourself in the comfort of kenma’s room. more so, in the comfort of his hoodie you saw lying around at the edge of his bed. you were stealth enough to quietly slip it over your head while kenma went downstairs to grab a plate of cut fruit from the kitchen. you were invited at the request of his grandparent who just happened to be visiting that day after he mentioned your name in passing right before he left for school that day. you were lost in your within your own stream of consciousness, so you were unaware that kenma was standing behind you. the sound of the plate landing on the corner of his desk in his room caused to you to turn around quickly. 

“you look cute,” was all he said slightly lowering his head to kiss your forehead. you hugged him, sweater paws and all, causing him to chuckle when he made his way to his bed. kenma patted the space next to him. 

“oh?” you hum in earnest. your eyes scrunching up when you felt your blush under your eyes glow a little more iridescent than before you sat down next to him on the bed. “glad you think so highly of me.” 

kenma rested his head on your shoulder similar to the way he did on the day you dropped off his switch earlier that week. you raised you right arm in order to have your hand run through his hair and you could of sworn you heard him purr right as he drifted off into a nap. you felt your eyelids grow heavy not too long after, not realizing you were about to lay yourself down on the bed to get more comfortable with kenma’s arms loosely wrapped around your waist (and your hand lost in his blonde hair).

Later that evening/morning:

[headoverhiddles]

Hide Your Hand - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You can throw your rock and hide your hand, working in the dark against your fellow man. As sure as god made black and white, what's done in the dark will be brought to the light. 

Notes: Started this when the God's Gonna Cut You Down video came out, and it's been a while, but I rewatched it and finished this! The ending is kinda up for interpretation. Also, this is kinda based on the idea that this video is a sequel of sorts to Man That You Fear. Enjoy! 

Tagging: @blueinkblot​ @antichristsuperslut​ @skin-slave​ @peachynun​ @plagued-rat​ @livelifewondering​ @elrosew​

His eyes open.

The lids crack with falling dust as he attempts to move his head, but notices white plastic in his peripherals. Confirming his suspicions, he finds his limbs packed too tight to move as well. Flexing the muscles in his shoulders and making fists, he begins to rock, the necessary evil of desert dirt filling his mouth as he cracks his confines. Tattooed fingers break ground, and blunt fingernails pick their way out of the makedo grave.

Thankfully the coward who buried him didn't do a very good job. Then again, not many people expect a dead man to emerge from the dirt, especially when they can't see past the ends of their noses. A reanimated corpse would have given whatever bastard who did this a heart attack; then he'd be the one holding the shovel.

Shaking the dry dirt from his black hair, he tries to remember why he was buried in the first place. It's as if he's half brain dead-- or half his brain hasn't been awakened yet. Every time he tries to think of his past, it's as if a mental dam would go up, blocking him access. But it isn't mechanical-- no, he is the opposite of mechanical. He is biodegradable, or he should have been. The only undeniable clarity in his mind is one single fact: he should be dead, and he should've stayed dead.

Seeing as it isn't really an option to get back in the hole and cover himself up again, he starts walking. He has hopes that this was some kind of underworldly mirage in a sea of punishment, that he'd wake up and see some nightmare only he would be capable of dreaming up. But thus far, the devil wasn't popping up to laugh in his face, so he supposed he could stop being so cynical.

Once bitten, twice shy.

Why the fuck is that? Who had done the proverbial biting? What had happened, and how had he awakened? He lets out a long sigh, the air in his lungs brittle and unnatural. What he does remember of his life before, is there was an element of relief found in simple country indulgence. Whoever he is, he recalls the taste of whiskey sour and the satisfying singe of burning herb on his tongue, filling his mouth, filling his dry lungs.

He has to find a bar.

 -

You feel like the ice box in front of the motel you passed on the highway: melting slowly in the desert heat.

A single coin, older than three of your lifetimes, tumbles down your fingers like a staircase, swiped up into your palm and placed again at the top. The pure silver glints under the bar lights, and your drink is placed in front of you.

"On the house," the bearded man, who was as close to a modern day cowboy as he could get, smiles at you. You tip your wide brimmed hat. Nobody questioned why you were wearing a hat and dark glasses inside, or why you had taken the very end of the bar, farthest away from everyone. Southwestern places like this get people from all walks of life passing through, and people, in general, were all just as fundamentally odd as they pretend not to be.

Finally placing the coin heads up on the cracked wooden table, you swirl your drink and observe.

Something had drawn you to this town. Last time you had contacted the other world, they had directed you here, and though you hadn't studied the occult for long, you understood that that many signs, from the living world or otherwise, meant something catastrophic had just happened out here in the desert. You'd wait it out, and see if whatever it was would come to you first. You can already feel it, whatever it is-- you can feel the energy, and it makes you shiver. Fermented hatred, violent impulse, and bitter restlessness buzz beneath your skin, and you're dying to figure out where-- or who-- this bad mix of hoodoo is coming from.

-

A white pickup truck, damaged by some kind of weather, sits abandoned on the side of the road. He looks around, and as he suspected, there isn't another soul as far as the eye can see. That, by his standards, makes this his pickup truck.

As if a gift from god, the keys are still in the ignition, and he doesn't have time to worry about the two bloody bullet holes in the seat. He drives out of there in a cloud of dust, hoping for civilization.

Civilization, and people.

He suddenly swerves violently, eyes snapping shut.

He had a wife. She looked somewhat like him, only more feminine. Her name was Marilyn.

He wore a hat. He had long hair back then, hair that would get tugged in moments of passion and brushed in moments of vulnerability. Soft hands interrupted rivulets of warm water cascading down his back as he sat under a showerhead and let tears fall.

He lived in a small community. A cult created out of fear. A pointing finger, blindfolded shot caller.

He had been a scapegoat.

Bare chest, open palms, and a deep, aching pain, repetitive, blood running down into his eyes, until...

Those eyes snap open, and he swerves back onto the road. Narrowly missing a white painted cross, he looks back to see a graveyard.

"Marilyn," he says to himself. His voice sounds like paper ripping, and he coughs, growling a little until his throat begins to feel normal again. He still doesn't remember what they called him, or who he properly was... his wife wouldn't be needing her name anymore, since she must be long dead; he decided it suited him.

 -

The sun is just going down over the Mojave hills as you finger the black crystals dangling between your breasts. Whatever it is, it's taking its time.

Licking a small sheet of rolling paper, you fill it with some of your own homegrown bud, and strike a match off your boot.

"You waiting for someone?" the bearded cowboy asks you, and you recognize the charming glint in his eye as someone who's barking up the wrong tree.

"I don't know yet," you reply honestly, and leave it at that. The man presses.

"What do you mean? You've been sitting here all day." He leans in. "My name's Shooter. What's yours?"

"Call me Clint Eastwood, cause I'm the Woman With No Name," you answer drily.

"Hey now..." Shooter leans in, "It would just break my heart if a pretty little lady like you got stood up... left lonely for the night."

You meet his gaze. "I'm far from lonely. And the night is far from over."

Just then, a breeze blows the door open, and someone walks in. It's a man in a white wife beater and a plaid button up over it, jet black hair covered in dust and dirt. His eyes are dark, just like the rest of his aura, and you're drawn to him. This is him. This is the feeling.

He sits next to you at the bar, but doesn't look over immediately. First, he checks the place out... then his eyes land on you.

"Thirsty?" he asks. You nod, smiling.

The twitch of his lips carve a mysterious half smile in his face as he lifts his fingers to catch the bartender's attention. Not like he hadn't already.

A drink is placed in front of you, not on the house as it was when you were "lonely and pretty". The man takes his own glass of dark amber liquid. Nursing his own poison and seeming to revel in it, he lifts it to his lips. You notice the alchemical symbols tattooed onto his fingers. 

"Marilyn," he glances up, catching a newspaper clipping of the old Tate murders glued to the wall, "-Manson."

"Manson," you nod, "I'm (y/n) (y/l/n)."

"Pretty name." You wait for the "for a pretty girl", but that part never comes. You tilt your head, intrigued.

"Where are you from?"

He gives a mirthless chuckle, voice still caked with dust and the unfortunate secret that he had just freed himself from his own grave. "I have no goddamn idea where I'm from."

Now you're very interested. “You have amnesia or something?”

He considers this. “Maybe. I just woke up this morning in a body bag out in the middle of devil’s asshole, Nevada.”

“Sounds like someone tried to kill you,” you say softly, heartbeat picking up. He drains his glass, pushing it forward for another.

“Mhm. The strange part is, it feels like they succeeded.” The crystals hanging around your neck begin to warm against your chest, and you look down. He spots your dwindling joint in the nearby ashtray, and sees that half of it is ash now. “If you’re not gonna finish that, hun,” he nods to it. You gesture to it for him to take. He does, studies you, and puts it to his lips. His eyes squint through the haze, and his mouth opens in an ‘o’ to free the smoke. You feel a different sort of warmth fill you.

“You live here?” he asks.

“No.”

“Why you here?”

“I felt like I should be.”

He looks around slowly. “Sure. This is really the place to be, huh?” A fly lands on your glass, and a bearded guy burps over by the cobwebbed jukebox. You look down, smiling.

“I have my reasons.”

He watches how your lips graze the mouth of the glass, leaving a faint red imprint. He feels something rouse inside of him. Now that drinking’s out of the way, he’s suddenly reminded of another need. But he's not certain how everything's working just yet... best to make sure. Shooter fills up Manson's glass again, turned away but intent on eavesdropping.

Manson lifts it to his lips, drinking the Tennessee Whiskey down like it's water from a mirage. Finally, he decides he can trust you.

"I have something inside of me," he murmurs. You rest your elbow on the bar.

"Like what?"

"A sort of intuition. There's somebody I need to kill. Lots of people." 

"I hope you don't mean everyone in this bar," you joke.

He smiles, looking down. "Wouldn't kill you. And that guy over there by the jukebox looks like he's on a mission from God to drink the most whiskey any man's ever drunk, and I'm not about to stop him on his righteous path."

You laugh. "I think you're well on your way to getting there first."

He looks back down to his now emptied glass. "That's another thing. I can't even feel the effects." He cocks his head. "Fuckin' awful. That was the best part about living."

"Was?" you ask in amusement.

"I'm telling you. I can't be alive. Something brought me back, and it's not for good."

"That's it," Shooter says, loading a rifle from behind the bar and pointing it at Manson. "You two take your devilspeak and you get the hell outta here before I blow you away." Manson lifts his eyes to Shooter, taking in the man's much smaller form. He stands, and it all happens in a blur. You snatch the rifle in what can only be described as symbiotic intuition on both your parts, and Manson rushes Shooter, grabbing him by the vest and pulling him over the bar.

"M-Mister I'm--" the bartender begins to say, but Manson impales him with a sickening crack on the deer antlers hanging on the wall below the Budweiser sign.

You pass Manson the rifle, watching the drunk in the corner try and decipher what just happened. He's no threat. Manson slings the rifle over his shoulder, and grabs the bottle from the other side of the bar, drinking from it. He passes it to you, where you’re standing, leaning with your back against the bar. You take the bottle, swirling your tongue around the top, before drinking. You watch the body drip blood from where it’s hanging. He watches you.

 As he stares at your lips, the need building inside of him is almost undeterrable. He remembers what it was like before, to be deep inside a woman, to get everything he can take from a willing, welcoming girl.

"What makes you tick?" he murmurs.

You exhale. "I'm certain you could find out."

He drives toward the address of the motel you had given him, shotgun in the backseat for safe keeping, and parks the truck in the front. You unlock the door, ignoring the strange look from the motel owner, and let Manson in. He sits down on the edge of the bed, and you take your jacket off. Sensing how he reacts to that, you pause, and begin to unbutton your shirt. You turn to him, and take the rest of your top off. 

Manson stares, watching every movement closely. You take off your shorts slowly, and your panties with it. Soon, you're fully naked, and his breathing has increased. He's aroused even more when you walk toward and get in his lap on the edge of the bed, breasts pressed against his chest. 

He brings his hands up to feel your back, and smooths them all the way down to your ass. You straddle him, helping him take his shirt off. You trace his mosaic of tattoos with your fingertips, and cup his cheeks, pressing your lips to his. They're dry, cracked, but you don't care, and neither does he. He kisses back, and a surge of violent desire prompts him to pick you up, clearing everything off the table and sitting you there. You help him work at his pants, and he finally gets them down just enough to lay you on your back on the table and push into you.

You groan, reaching down to help yourself along. He takes a black rosary hanging from the TV set, and ties your hands together with it, keeping them above your head. You whine as he fucks into you, moans increasing as he touches your clit. He uses one hand to massage your breasts, giving attention to both, and his hips stutter. 

"It's... okay," you breathe out, "You can..."

He grunts, but refuses to cum before you, no matter how long it's been. He picks you up and moves you to the bed, lying you on your back. Your hands fist the sheets as his lips move down your body, pressing kisses down your chest, between your breasts, to your stomach, sucking hickies down your inner thighs, licking down your legs to your feet. Then he finally kisses back up to your pussy, watching the wetness leak to the mattress.

"I want to hear you," he rasps, and you sigh, appreciative noises building as he darts his tongue out to make small circles around your clit.

"Oh," you whisper, "Oh yeah."

"Louder," he growls, licking faster.

"Please, please!" you whine, "Right there!"

You cry out loudly as he brings you to the edge of your peak, but he disappears from between your legs before you can cum. Disoriented, you wiggle your hips, but look up to find him standing at the foot of the bed. He tugs you by your ankles down to where he is, and lifts you up. You arch your back in relief as he slides his cock back into you, like it’s your lifeline. That's all it takes for you to come undone, crying out his name as you cum on his cock. 

"Baby, baby... so good," he grumbles, drawing out almost all the way and slamming back in deep. He keeps up his bruising, thorough pace until he too becomes erratic, leaning his head back and groaning your name. You feel him finish inside you, and sigh contentedly, spreading your arms out. 

He drops your legs, and you crawl back up to the pillows. He lays down on the other side of the single bed, letting you cuddle into his space. Your head rests on Manson’s chest, as you close your eyes and search for the stranger’s heartbeat. 

You're awakened from your dreamlike state as you notice he doesn't have one.

--

It's 3 am. Hours have gone by, and he can't sleep.

He realizes, hands behind his head, that nobody who killed him is still around. They all must have died years ago, that he would be chasing ghosts. That's just what he was... a ghost. Or a demon. Maybe he was the devil himself. Sooner or later, he knew that the darkness would return. It came for them, it would come for him. 

He turns to look down at your sleeping, naked form, and strokes you. You look like an angel, sleeping on a halo of the hair spread out over his chest. He defiled you last night, spread his darkness over you. 

Maybe he wasn't a scapegoat after all. Maybe he deserved everything he got. Maybe he wasn't an avenging angel. Maybe he was chaos on earth, brought back for a short time. But his feelings, his human urges were so real when he felt them raging through him. He felt like he needed to kill everyone who wronged him, but he didn’t know how to find them. So many unanswered questions, and the sun would rise on them all in a few hours.

The dim TV with the rosary draped over it glitches, and turns from snowy static to a black fuzz.

-

You wake up in the morning, and find that the spot next to you is empty. You expected that-- the man was on a mission, but it was a nice detour. Still, you get up, and look out the motel window. 

That's strange. His car is still there. You start to search the bed for your panties, but stop. There's a strange dust left in his side of the bed, and a note on the bedside table. 

You can run on for a long time, but sooner or later God'll cut you down.

- The Stranger