#Doppel of responsibility

[lunaetis]

[ sudden 1:30AM thought : if yq had turned into jade, would eden be able to tell ? ]

[lazi4ss]

That's Not My Milkman

masterlist

Warning: slight gore but not that detailed, doppleganger Francis

Gender neutral reader

(NOT MY ART, I FORGOT WHOS TIKTOK THIS IS FROM BUT CREDITS TO YOU!)

"So... Is everything in check?"

A tired voice mumbled out as your eyes trailed up from the ID and entry request in your hands to the source of the sound. Tired hazel eyes stared back at you as Francis rubbed the back of his neck.

You felt bad, here you were double and triple-checking everything while the exhausted and probably underpaid milkman was there standing and waiting to be let in. But it's for everyone's safety so don't feel too bad. You gave a small smile as you handed back his paperworks. Everything seems to check out and you were going to let him in but... what's that on his uniform sleeve?

You squinted your eyes as you scanned the cuff of his right sleeve. His gaze travelled to where you were looking and with a shrug of his shoulders he lifted his hand to give you a clear view. And it is in fact blood, and by the looks of it, quite fresh too. How come you didn't notice it before?

You raised an eyebrow, one hand slowly inching closer to the danger button as you tried to be subtle and casual about it. Because what the heck? He was confident enough to show you something so suspicious without batting an eye.

"Sooo... Uhm. Anything you want to share?"

You casually asked, yet nervousness was laced in your tone. He sighed, keeping his composed and nonchalant act as put his hand down, burying it in his pocket as he dragged his free hand on his face. If he's a doppelganger then he's really going the extra mile to act or seem believable.

"Mmm. I know you're on edge."

He mumbled, gaze traveling from your hand that was ready to press the danger button to your face. Staring a little too long as he examined your features. You got a very pretty face yet it was filled with mistrust. Shame. Catching himself, he quietly scoffed under his breath. Good job Francis, already had the doorperson suspicious of you.

"But this is not what it looks like. I injured my hand earlier with a broken glass, blood must've gotten on my uniform accidentally."

He finished, not breaking the staring contest you two have started. You don't quite seem to believe that story, but it was plausible. There was a tense silence for a while before you broke it.

"Show me your wound."

You requested and again, another tense silence. He didn't look like he was going to comply. Just you and him staring down at each other. No one backing down and tearing their eyes away.

"... Fuck."

He quietly hissed and that was enough confirmation for you. You pressed the button immediately, grabbing the phone as you dialed the D.D.D. A familiar voice on the other end confirms and tells you that agents are on their way.

You sighed in relief, although that didn't last long as you heard banging on the glass pane separating you and the doppelganger. Thank God those were strong enough to withhold the assaults. You should've been shaking in your seat right now, and you were albeit not so intense, but it was the first time you came across the quiet and aloof milkman's doppel.

Hell, it was the first time you even saw Francis up front, not just out of the picture in the folder provided for your job. Out of curiosity, you raised the metal shutters to take a peek at it. And what greeted you was a snarling, red-eyed Francis. His features twisted in rage as he banged on the glass repeatedly.

"Let me in, Y/n!"

He growled, to which you shut the metal blinds again on his face in response as you heard the agents barge in. You thought it would be like last time, after a while they would let you know that the cleanup was successful and that they would be on their way back. Easy peasy, right? Oh how wrong you were. Turns out, this one was putting up quite a fight.

You could hear shouting, a lot of screaming, and the sound of something sharp slashing at flesh. Wet sounds of people gurgling in what you presumed to be their own blood... That was disturbing. You were almost too scared to pull up the shutters to see what was going on. But suddenly the noises stopped. Did they catch him? Was it finally over?

With shaking hands, you pressed the danger button off. The blinds slowly ascended and holy shit, the sight was like something out of a nightmare. It was straight up a blood bath. The agents' bodies were piled on the right side. Some missing their heads, missing their upper or lower half, and others' stomachs were ripped out and just generally shredded and torn. But that wasn't what you saw first.

It was Francis, or well, his doppelganger, with blood splattered on his clothes and a little getting on his cheek. His forearm was resting on the glass as he leaned. His mouth opened and formed a smirk as he panted, breathing heavily while glaring at you. His left hand fiddled with the blood-drenched tie on his neck.

If he wasn't a murderous doppelganger, you would've swooned. But alas, you can't have nice things in life. You blinked at him before pressing the button again,

"Wait- damn it!"

He called out but the windows were closed off again as you dialed the number quickly. Yet again, the same old thing was said, another batch of agents were dispatched. You waited, fidgeting in your seat as you heard him call out to you.

"Come on... I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to frighten you. Can you open the door?"

He tried to coax you with that voice... That smooth and deep voice that sounded so tired, on the verge of begging you... Wait what-

You shook your head, patting your cheeks lightly because what the hell was that? Such intrusive thoughts are not welcome while your life's in danger!

More screaming and shouting was heard as the agents arrived and you could tell they were much more prepared than the last batch. Gunshots can be heard but another animalistic growl pulled you out of your thoughts. Everything went silent again. You stay rooted on your spot as the only thing that can be heard in the air is your quivering gasps and heavy breathing on the other side of the glass panel.

Is he still there? You thought as you turned off the danger button again. More bodies were piled up on the left corner and surprise surprise, he was still alive, albeit in a rougher shape than previously. He wasn't wearing his milkman hat anymore, letting his brown messy hair show. His uniform was missing three buttons at the top, slightly showing his chest, bowtie was nowhere to be found.

He was still drenched in blood but what stunned you was what he was doing. His form raised and dropped as he inhaled and exhaled heavily, tired hazel eyes staring back at you as his eyebrows scrunched up. His hands pressed together in a pleading manner. Is he actually begging?

"Y/n, let me in... Please?"

[magical-happiness]

tag dump ignore <3

[ncroissant]

this is based on @lordragamuffin's amazing fanart of bloody doppelgänger francis and real francis!!! minors please dni!!

imagine doppelgänger francis absolutely terrorizing the real francis.

he’d be so jealous, watching the way you handled your boyfriend. he’d quite literally be watching you two fuck every night, outside your balcony.

yeah, world domination was cool, but human sex looked too fun for him to pass up the opportunity.

sometimes you’d leave francis home alone when you worked overnights at the security office, while your boyfriend slept alone in his all too tight shirts.

for the past week, only when you were away, francis felt something, or someone, groping at his chest. but he was always almost half-asleep when he felt slender fingers swirling around his nipples.

he’d twitch and squirm in his sleep, huffing out moans whenever he felt something pinching and tugging at his nubs.

he thought he was going crazy.

and every morning, when he woke up from his nightly grope session, he’d always have an embarrassingly large mess in his pants. his dick was still hard, cum splattered in his boxers.

the next week, francis started having dreams about it. no face could be imagined for whoever was fondling with his chest, but he could feel the same fingers on him every night.

he thought he was just horny, missing you on the nights you weren’t there. but even when you were there, he’d feel so guilty, praying to the dream gods that he’d have a wet dream about the mystery groper, playing with his perky nipples.

then finally, one fateful night, he woke up to finally see fingers stuffed under his shirt. he was still disoriented, squirming under the cold fingers of the mystery groper.

“w-who, haah, are you…?” francis panted, throwing his head back with his tongue lulled out. the fingers were moving too fast for him to protest, nails slightly scrapping the tips.

there was no response. the only noise that filled the room were the whimpers and moans from francis. he was so needy, drool sliding out of his mouth at the immense pleasure he felt. he couldn’t even fathom how good he felt from how just his nipples.

“mmngh! c-can you, aghnn, tell me, please?” he was so polite, even while some stranger was pulling at his stupidly perky nipples, testing if any milk work come out.

doppelgänger francis would just silently chuckle at his copy’s desperation. he’d flick one bud, while rubbing the other with his thumb. whatever made his copy twitch, he’d do it over and over again to see him squirm.

humans are so stupid, he thought.

he looked down to see the mess that was brewing between francis’ legs, before finally giving francis a clue. “why not…you let me replace you, hm?”

francis tried to hide the moans that were spilling out of his lips at the revelation, but his mind was so hazy for him to even refute. “n-nggGH!” he mewled when doppel squeezed both nipples at the tips.

“i’ll play with you like this every night, then i pretend to be you in the day, hm?” doppel proposed, shivers rolling down francis’ spine. the heat of doppel’s breath brushed against his ears making them tingle.

“t-that’s, ungh, not…” francis was grinding against the fabric of his underwear, completely out of it. he was so close. just a few more flicks would send this poor boy over the edge.

“c’mon, they won’t even notice. i can play with these pretty things like this,” he flicked at francis’ buds, pressing kisses against his flushed neck. “such pretty tits, hm?” he chuckled, cupping his chest.

that comment sent francis over the moon. his heart was nearly thumping out of his chest and cum splattered on the inside of his pants.

“guess i trained you well. they’re bigger than before,” doppel didn’t waiver when francis came, continuing to torment his pink nubs. they were throbbing, sensitive to the touch.

francis’ drool dropped to his chin, his eyes rolled back all the way. “n-no, i jus’...hnghh, c-came. ‘s too soon, ngh…” he moaned, cheek smushed against the pillow.

“maybe give me the answer i wanna hear, ‘n i’ll let you have a little break, yeah?” doppel growled, sucking hickies lower down his neck.

francis’ breath hitched, shaking his head. “d-don’t, eek! d-don’t leave marks, they’ll see, mngh, them!” he pleaded.

doppel smirked, rolling his fingertips over francis’ nipples soothingly. it was slow, too slow. “ooohhngh…y-you can, hn, take over f’me…” francis cutely agreed, biting his lower lip.

“yeah? ‘n i’ll play with you every night, right?” doppel grinned widely, sucking on francis’ earlobe.

francis’ eyes were squeezed shut, flushed from the neck down. “m-mhm! p-please…” francis begged, trying to puff his chest out for more friction.

“alright. you said it yourself, so don’t go crying to me when you can’t take it anymore,” doppel chuckled darkly, tugging francis’ nipples with a squeeze.

“haaaAANGH!”

[writa-anon]

Francis Mosses (The Milkman) Headcanons ~!

a / n ~ havent written fanfic in a while and ive been a little obsessed with tnmn recently so i decided to write my little hcs for milkman! relatively wholesome and more just me giving him lore :3

GREW UP AS A MIDDLE CHILD, which is why he's so reserved and quiet. Doesn't really like the spotlight on him and lives his quaint life by himself satisfied.

TOOK PIANO LESSONS WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER. Still has that skill but typically doesn't like to flaunt. Has a humble old piano in his apartment he plays but very softly to not disturb his neighbors.

HE WORKS ANOTHER JOB AT NIGHT, WHICH IS WHY HE’S ALWAYS SO TIRED. His milkman job is a part-time job, hence why he rarely shows up during doorman afternoon shift. I'd like to think he works double to either help support his parents, child support for Anastasha, or saving up to buy a house of his own.

BIG SOFTIE FOR SMALL CREATURES. When he does his milkman runs around the block, he definitely pets the local strays and feeds them spare crackers he may have packed for lunch. He wishes he could keep one but doesn’t really have the time and plus the apartment complex doesn’t allow pets because of doppel precautions!

HES A BIT OF A MESS. but if he's not sleeping throughout the day, he definitely makes an effort in cleaning his place up and making a proper meal for himself. On overwhelming workdays though, his clothes are scattered everywhere and it's quick and easy meals for dinner.

HES A DISTANT FATHER. there's no way he ISN’T in contact with Nacha. They live in the same complex for crying out loud! He knows he's the father of Anastasha, however, was too scared to take on the responsibility of fatherhood, esp since this was in his early 20s. However, he does keep in contact with Nacha about updates and they are still on speaking terms.

BARELY SOCIALIZES WITH NEIGHBORS. He isn't necessarily buddy-buddy with any of his neighbors, however there is some acquaintance with Angus and Izaack (mainly because of their extroverted personalities, they must be known by everyone in the complex!).

SUPER SHY to physical affection or any type of affection for that matter. I feel like it would take a good while for him to do any sort of first moves. He would do a little secret admiring from afar just to warm up to it. Nothing too intense. Maybe leaving a rose or a nice compliment on the front desk while no one is looking. Definitely had to be hyped up by Isaack to go through with it. (I’m currently writing a fic about it!)

~~~~~~~

short but detailed. these are just my little thoughts :)

[notmyneighbor]

a new neighbor | francis mosses x female reader

chapter 4

words | 3.8k

cw | cheating, explicit sexual content

ao3 link

taglist | @kaislashes @unicorngirly1 @charli33-b33 @natiii727227 @the-lazyyy-artist @teeesthings

Francis Mosses stares at you seated across from him and he wants.

Frustratingly close and yet still so far out of his reach. He forces himself to make small talk, to consume the meal that’s been placed before him. The voices become garbled and his responses evolve into noncommittal murmurs. The food tastes like ash. Nothing will satisfy him because it’s not you.

He knows he’s being obvious and yet he cannot stop. He is in far too deep, far too quickly.

“I’ll meet you outside your door in an hour,” he manages to hiss against your ear as he helps you with the dishes once the meal finally draws to a close. He cannot resist dragging his fingers across the tiny buttons at the rear of your dress, where they secure the fabric between your shoulders. Beneath the cloud of soapy water, he can safely touch your hands, even when your father brings another forgotten utensil that needs washing. The milkman offers a friendly smile to the college professor while his hidden fingers caress yours, twining them with his. His breath presses hotly to your temple as soon as the other man departs. “Touch me. Any part of me, I don’t care what.” You look frightened, and aroused, all at once. Startled by his words, by the lack of self control you both exhibit. Your citrus scented fingers stroke across the crooked bridge of his nose, the divot above his top lip, then linger against the center of the bottom one. His eyes flutter closed and you say his name and then you move apart because the other option, to be closer, is impossible right now.

His gaze is hungry as you part ways at the door, the promise of later now tantalizingly close at hand. He returns to the apartment one floor above with Nacha and Anastacha and waits for the allotted time.

***

“I’m going to get some fresh air.”

Nacha looks up from the shirt she’s mending for Ana. Their daughter is already tucked into bed. “You’re going outside now? At this hour? What about…”

She means the doppels, of course, and he’s taken this into consideration as well. “I’ll go up to the roof. I just need…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t admit the truth.

He grabs the throw draped over the couch. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry about waiting up. I know you’ve got work tomorrow.”

“So do you.” She bends her head and severs the tail of the thread with her teeth, surveying her handiwork.

The milkman shrugs. “I barely sleep anyway.” He starts towards the door, halted by his girlfriend’s voice.

“Be careful, Francis.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says.

***

You’re not outside your apartment door yet, but Francis isn’t overly concerned.

It’s more difficult for you to sneak away, he knows. Waiting for your father to fall asleep, pretending to be doing the same. The door eventually creaks open while the older man waits, blanket thrown over one arm, rocking on his heels, hoping no one else emerges to find the two of you together. They don’t. You shut the door carefully behind you and it’s all Francis can do not to grab you, to drag you against him. He clutches one of your hands and guides you to the stairs.

“Francis, where are we going? I don’t have my papers with me.”

“We’re not going downstairs. We’re going up to the roof.”

You allow yourself to be led up the last flight in the stairwell, the heavy steel door parting to reveal a mostly flat expanse beneath a field of stars. It’s a beautiful evening, mild and pleasant. The incessant rain has mercifully stopped.

“The guys come up here to have a beer in the summer, sometimes,” he explains, nudging at one of the brown glass bottles left there from the previous year. He’d been invited to those gatherings but preferred coming here alone. Or at least, he had. Before you had come into his life.

He spreads the blanket out so you have someplace to sit. There’s a bit of an overhang from the roof of the stairwell exit that shields the top of the building, offering a dry patch to settle down on.

“I can’t stay long,” you caution, joining him on the slightly padded surface, tucking the hem of your dress beneath you.

“I know.” He tips his head back, letting it rest against the brick and mortar. “Next weekend I’m going to take you out on a proper date. We’ll go to the drive in. I’ll say I’m out at the bowling alley. You can think of an excuse to be away for a few hours?”

“A study group, maybe. I never socialize. Dad’ll know something’s up if I say I’m out with friends. I don’t really have any.”

“You have me.” Francis reaches for your face, tucking his fingers beneath your chin. He’s forcing himself not to rush this stolen moment, savoring you for a little longer. He knows once he starts kissing you, it will be a struggle to stop.

When he finally surrenders to that desire, he finds you taste like peppermint toothpaste. His hands wander over your body, sliding over breasts and hips and beneath your dress. He presses you down beneath him on the blanket. So little time. Your legs part and he grinds against you, rutting, wishing there were not the layers of clothing shielding your bodies. “I’m so crazy about you already.” He whispers this secret against your throat. “It almost scares me how much.”

“You’re trembling.” Your fingers sift through his hair, your knees hugging his ribs.

He huffs a short laugh. “I told you. Scared.”

“Of getting caught.”

“A little of that. But that’s small in comparison to the other. This feeling.”

You lift your head and capture his lips. “I feel like every time with you is new. Taking me apart, making me into something else.”

Francis draws back to look into your eyes. “I want to do that. Take you apart. I want to be inside of you,” he growls against your ear, his face dropping, tongue darting out to taste the sensitive patch of skin just behind the lobe and you hiss in response, your breath harshly expelled. “Move on your side. I want to try something.”

You frown but cooperate, waiting for him to move before you lie on your side, your dress a rumpled mess around your uncovered thighs. The older man lies down beside you, his body spooned against yours. “Keep your legs tight together.”

The milkman thrusts into the close tuck of your thighs, sawing between them from behind you, rubbing his now freed erection against your bare pussy after he’s hastily shoved your panties down. One hand digs into your hip, then reaches for your clit, kneading it, his mouth wet against your neck. “Want to feel you from the inside, baby girl. Someday soon. Take my time. Open you up for me. Fill you. You feel so good. So hot and wet against my cock.” The finger circling your bundle moves faster, pressing more firmly against the swelling flesh, the sex organ violating your thighs increasing its pace. He moans your name and you shudder to completion and his turgid member pulses, coating your legs with his seed.

Francis uses the blanket to wipe you both off. He’ll be leaving that up here to deal with some other time. Sensing your eyes on him, he looks up midway through zipping his fly. “What is it?”

“I don’t want to get pregnant.”

“Of course not. You’re too young for that. And I certainly don’t want to make that mistake again.” He pauses, shaking his head. “That came out poorly. I’m not saying being intimate with you would be a mistake. I do want it. Badly. I’ll use protection.”

You nod, smoothing down your dress and patting your hair.

“When you’re ready. I’m not going to force you. I’m not forcing you with any of this, am I?”

“No, Francis.”

“I’m trying to do right by everyone here. In spite of how it might seem. I don’t know. Maybe I am just being selfish now.” He touches your cheek. “I wish we had more time. There’s never enough.”

You’re escorted back downstairs. Francis peeks out into the hallway and then nods for you to follow. He steals another hurried kiss in front of your apartment door and whispers about seeing you tomorrow. He touches your hair and inhales your scent and then he returns to his apartment, finding it quiet and dark. He lays on the couch and he stares into the void above until sleep brings him a temporary respite from the never ending huger for you.

***

In the park the following afternoon, Francis watches you and Ana trying to outdo each other on the swing set.

You’ve changed out of your school uniform, wearing jeans now, your hair pinned up but already falling loose from activity. You’ve chased Ana around since your arrival, playing tag and helping her with the challenges of the jungle gym and running until the roundabout had gained enough momentum, sending the pair of you spinning around and around, his daughter tipping her head back and giggling, saying she was getting dizzy.

The next time Ana insists her father and her sitter ride together. He’s able to generate greater speed, his shoes digging into the grooved earth that’s been trod upon by many previous participants, making it impossible for the grass to ever have a chance at reclamation. Your grip is white knuckled on the bars and you squeal in alarm as you lose your balance, colliding into the solid barrier of the milkman’s chest. He wraps one arm tightly around you, clutching the railing until at last the merry go round grinds to a squeaky halt. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers in your ear before you’re tugged away, led forward by the elementary schoolgirl’s urging.

He takes turns pushing both of you on the swings, his hands forever lingering on yours wrapped around the lengths of chains. Ana complains that her father is giving you an unfair advantage, spending more time aiding you. He protests and laughs and his fingers drag against your spine before he returns to his daughter.

At the picnic area Ana busies herself with crackers and juice and Francis rests his hand on the bench. You’re sitting beside him and your fingers nudge his.

“Your little girl is beautiful!” An elderly woman croons nearby, her own pair of grandchildren and a small rat terrier in tow.

She means you and the milkman. As if you are a couple. Francis worries a splinter on the surface of the table.

“Daddy, can I go pet the doggie?”

“If she says it’s alright. Remember what I showed you. Hand flat out. Let it sniff you first. And don’t go too far.”

“I know,” she huffs, unaware of how much she sounds like her father in that moment. She slides off the bench and cautiously approaches the animal who takes to her immediately, nosing her hand and then jumping up to lick her cheek.

“She’s been asking for a pet for ages. I don’t know. It just seems like a lot of responsibility. It would be us getting the pet, not her. I don’t think an apartment is a good home for a dog anyway. They need a yard. Ana should have a yard…” His voice trails off and he looks at you. “She thought she was ours,” he nods towards the elderly woman.

“She’s old. She can’t see well,” you laugh good naturedly. “I’m not offended.”

“I wish she was right,” he whispers.

The smile slides from your features. “Francis…”

“Do you ever think about it? If I was free. If there were other options.”

You shake your head. “I’m still in high school.”

“Not for much longer.”

“I’m still not sure about college. A career.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He abandons the sliver of wood and begins working on one of the peeling strips of evergreen paint instead. “Sometimes I get carried away.” Ana has started to head back, the dog now occupied with chasing a frisbee. “I would be proud to say she was ours. That you were mine. Does it ever hurt here, when you’re lying in bed at night, one floor below…” The fist he rests against his chest drops and he plasters on a smile for the youth with an identical set of tired looking eyes. “Go pick one more ride to go on and then we’ll head home, okay?”

The young girl scowls but nods, heading back towards the swings.

“You never hear about the doppels taking children, thank God,” he murmurs, watching Ana settle into one of the scooped swings once again.

“Why do you think that is?”

He shrugs. “Maybe they think it’s pointless. They won’t get access to anything they really want or need if they pose as a child. Who knows?”

“I do,” you say, and his gaze shifts from his daughter to you. “I do feel it.”

Francis doesn’t respond.

There’s nothing left for him to say.

***

Francis is seated on the living room couch later that evening.

He’d put Ana to bed early. She’d been tired from her busy afternoon at the park. He was worn out, too. Not just from the added activity after working a shift. There’s a kind of inner weariness, gnawing away at him. That initial effervescent feeling he’d gotten from being with you is evolving. It’s something weightier now, more solemn. He doesn’t even hear his girlfriend say his name when she enters the apartment, drumming the secret code on the door frame to alert him that she’s not a doppelganger.

“Hmmm? Oh, hi. Sorry, long day.”

“Did you take Ana to the park?”

“Yes. She had a great time. So great, in fact, that she wore herself out. She’s in bed already.”

His pretend fiancée nods, sitting down beside him. “Found this in the back of my car.”

Your piano book is dropped onto his lap. He stares at it and his stomach lurches. He’d completely forgotten about it, when you’d been in the back seat with him. Shoving it to the floor before you’d…

“Is that the sitter’s?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I gave her a ride home the other day. When I went out to pick up groceries, remember?” He hopes his words sound convincingly innocent.

“Right. Didn’t you go bowling that night too? No wonder you look even more exhausted than usual.”

“I guess I have been doing a lot.”

“Well, that was kind of you, in any case. Don’t forget to return it. I’m going to head to bed. Unless you want to? It’s your turn, actually.”

“No, go ahead. I’ll stay here.”

Nacha nods, rising to her feet. She’s halfway out of the living room before she pauses, turning back to face her partner. “It’s good that you’re getting out more. Maybe you’ll meet your special someone, hmm?” She smiles and he nods and then she disappears through the hallway.

He stares at the cover of the book in his lap for several moments, finally lifting the cover. Your name is written in neat cursive inside. He flips through the sheet music. He can’t read a single note, but he bets you’ve got most of them memorized. He lets the cover drop back down and sighs. It was time to get ready for bed. Quick brush of teeth and glass of water and undress until there is only a layer of undershirt and briefs clothing him. He tosses and turns and ends up on his stomach, his arm hanging off the couch, his fingers on the cover of your music book. He thinks about being with you at the park, pressed into his arms by centrifugal force, brushing hands on chains, nudging fingers on the bench seat. Too much, too fast, and going further still.

***

It rains the night Francis plans to take you to the drive in theater, but he’s not too upset by it. If anything, it just greater heightens your privacy together.

He’s pleased to see you’ve dressed appropriately—skirts were so much easier to deal with than pants—and relieved to not actually be where he’d claimed he was going to. He’ll have to go out with the guys from the apartment building again soon, but for now, it’s just a convenient excuse to be out of the house.

The milkman stretches an arm out across the seats and lets it curl around your shoulders. The film is some science fiction fantasy about invaders from another planet, a tale that hits a little too close to home nowadays. The actors are much too old to be playing teenagers, but that was the way Hollywood worked.

Still, it’s not a bad movie, and under different circumstances he might have devoted his full attention to it. But he’s got you tucked against him now, and that’s too much temptation to resist. The windshield wipers squeak agains the glass as his mouth finds yours. You’ve got some kind of cherry lip gloss on that he laps clear little by little. His hand moves beneath the hem of your skirt, then your panties, and you shift, spreading your legs a little further apart.

“I want to try something, baby girl. It’s going to hurt, but after…oh after, I promise, it’ll be so, so good.” His middle finger rests at your entrance. “Do you want me to attempt it?”

He can feel the uncertainty wafting from you. Anticipation, too. Radiating heat. You nod and he sighs and he presses slightly. You wince instantly and he freezes. Only to the first joint and you’re snug, resisting the intrusion.

“Okay, honey. Relax. Let’s try something else for awhile.” He distracts you with kisses, with his fingers teasing your bud. When he feels you becoming slicker and more relaxed he tries again, this time shoving a bit further in. His mouth muffles your moan of pain when he reaches inside of you to his knuckle. The score of the film rises to a crescendo perfectly in time with his digit invading deeper. You’re squeezing him mercilessly and it’s impossible not to think of how his cock is going to feel being surrounded by all that muscle, milked until bursting through that narrow channel.

“Francis.” You spit his name through gritted teeth, struggling to endure that violation of your virginity. He does not dawdle, finishing the penetration and then withdrawing, wishing you were wetter, recognizing the sticky hot feel of blood now staining him. He thinks you must hate it right now, that awful burn and stretch, so he lavishes you with kisses and praise and tries to be gentler now, not pressing in quite as far, trying out a more shallow drag, making sure to stimulate your clit. He’s completely lost track of the plot of the film at this point. Had the Earthlings triumphed? Surely they had. Most movies had happy endings. No one wanted to see a villain emerge as the victor.

Am I the villain? Deflowering this young woman. Stealing a moment she can never have back again. Wrapping her up in lies to shield others from the truth. Her secret, older lover.

The windows are becoming clouded. The closing credits are rolling. There is always a brief intermission between films. He knows he can’t keep you through the second one. It will be too long an absence to explain to your father.

Still he makes no move to start the car and you do not mention it. He’s stopped fingering you for now. He thinks it’s enough for one night, even though he wishes he could make you enjoy the experience more. His cock gives a dissatisfied lurch that he ignores.

You, however, do not. Your hands are there and he hums a weak protest, saying you don’t have to. You say you want to and he can’t deny you. Your soft fingers stroke his prick and he tucks his face into your neck.

“Are you sorry? I shouldn’t have…maybe this wasn’t the best place…”

“No, I’m not sorry.” You smear precum over the head and massage the frenulum and he sucks in a deep breath. You’re too good at this. You know his body so well already.

“I want it to be good for you. I want you to be happy. Happy that you’re with me.” He huffs the last couple of words out as the pleasure of your touch overwhelms him. His climax is fast approaching.

Francis’ head lifts and he looks into your eyes. “I couldn’t live without you now. I don’t know how I ever did it before. You don’t know what you mean to me, sweet girl, my girl…” A broken sound almost like a sob and then he pulses against your stroking fingers, spewing out streams of release. His face is hidden in the space between your neck and shoulder again, his breath coming in soft pants.

“Francis. Francis, I have to go home now,” you murmur.

“I know.” He reluctantly straightens, staring at the screen for a few moments. The second film has advanced well past the opening credits and a musical number. This one looks like another alleged teenage driven tale about a young woman’s sister being framed for murder.

He hates this feeling he has, this sudden resentfullness, this sullen attitude that lingers after you’ve both fixed clothing and cleaned as best you could. He can see there is still blood tucked around the cuticle and surrounding the nail bed of his middle finger. He swallows thickly and starts the engine. The vehicle exits the theater, the car jostled a few times by pot holes in the long dirt driveway that leads to the site. He bitterly remembers how he’d cautioned you about how this affair would only get more difficult as time wore on, and he absolutely despises how right he’d been.

The milkman stops before reaching the apartment building, pulling over and killing the engine. You look over at him for an explanation.

“I don’t want you to think I’m upset with you.”

“I know you’re not.”

“It’s the situation.”

“Yes.”

“Do you still feel like you’re sharing me?”

“A little. But I’ve seen how you are together firsthand. I know it’s not the same as it is with us.”

He runs a finger over the steering wheel. “Are you sore?”

“Yes.”

He likes your bluntness, even if he’s sorry for your answer. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I know you have to go home. I’m taking you right now. I just wanted you to know…”

“I know,” you say, taking the older man’s face between your hands and kissing him. “I know, Francis.”

He turns the key in the ignition.

[skywerse]

AVA FERIN MIGHT STILL BE ALIVE

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS IN GENERAL

HEAR ME OUT, READ BELOW THE CUT AND TELL ME IF IT'S SOMETHING OR IF I'M SIMPLY LOOSING MY SHIT OVER NOTHING... BECAUSE IT MAKES SENSE TO ME—

Fey Ferin wants R.A.F.T to seize control over the world, and there's nothing that can stand in her way, not even her own family.

There might have been a time when Jayson Ferin was a good man. Based on what May says about him and glimpses we get from Jay's early memories (I recall one with the pin), it appears he once was. Perhaps Jayson desired change for the navy too, but that would be such a pain for Fey to deal with. So, she seems to have brainwashed him for months, possibly years by now (ep 79, Gilly detects corruption in him mixed with good energy), molding him into the perfect soldier who doesn't question orders and neglects his family for the sake of helping his mother to carry out this great fucking world domination plan.

Fey likely harbors resentment towards Drey for not being obedient like his brother, opting for a pirate's life over being loyal to his family and their ideals. Yet, Fey can't bring herself to kill him, so she puts him in a top security prison to let him rot instead.

Ava was the ideal soldier—strong, brave, and revered by all. However, for Fey, Ava's kindness, compassion, and desire for change is simply another pain to deal with. But of course, she would not kill her own family. And she couldn't let her just vanish either.

Perhaps Fey suspected that Ava had a soft spot for pirates, given her upbringing in Eagle's Den and being raised by such a softhearted daughter-in-law. But perhaps, on one occasion, someone witnessed Ava together with a pirate, and somehow that information reached Fey. And after learning that her granddaughter, her esteemed captain, had feelings for a pirate from the crew of the last remaining pirate lord she aimed to get rid of, Fey simply couldn't let this opportunity slip by.

Maybe Ava cooperated willingly, fought like hell, or simply was faced with a deal she couldn't refuse. R.A.F.T. wouldn't just eliminate their top captain, such a vital asset for the upcoming war. Instead, they created a doppelgänger, and chucked the real Ava into some top-notch secret confinement. Letting the dopple to become their pawn. A perfect martyred hero to be killed by those bad bad pirates. A perfect excuse to wage a war over.

But the doppelgängers aren't perfect. So when Lizzie tells Ava about a pirate who is like a father to her, Ava doesn't remember. And when Lizzie begs her not to fight, Ava doesn't listen because she doesn't remember the numerous times they sneaked out together to simply talk like normal people do. And when there's an order to shoot, Ava doesn't move away, as she remembers she was only created to destroy and to be destroyed.

Would Jayson know? Probably not. His hatered toward the pirates responsible for his daughter's death would likely fuel his brainwashed self even more. Very convenient for the long run.

Fey might permit her youngest granddaughter to infiltrate the pirates, banking on her own hatered over her sister's death to maybe one day make her an even better soldier than Ava ever was.

But maybe Fey was wrong.

And she knows it when she receives news of her son's escape from prison, and when her other son suddenly takes leave, or perhaps when a navy base on the Black Sea is breached.

So, when her promising soldier begins to rebel, it might be time to reveal the secret that she's been keping. Maybe it will help her granddaughter decide which side to choose in the end.

me rn:

But idk, that's just my speculation. If it turns out to be a load of bullshit you can point and laugh, but at this point it makes so much sense in that smooth brain of mine as I'm writing this at 7am after getting no sleep whatsoever.

ALSO, just something fun to think over:

In the rolled for 114, Grizz mentioned that the doppel/brainwashing machine had buttons with dates on them. And if pressed, it would display the people who had previously used it. I can't help but wonder if my theory about Ava is true if she might have showed up there. Or maybe it could have shown Jayson getting his fucking brain blasted. BUT WELP, someone rolled like shit (pointsatgillionpointsatgillion) and we'll never know now—

[voidchillz]

I’m Your Neighbour

Hm? That’s Not My Neighbour Doppel Sanses X You Au? 🤔

Couldn’t be.

Your booth always smelled damp. Damp, mouldy, and dusty.

Asking the D.D.D. multiple times to clean it properly proved less than useful. The floors and walls were peeling and it wasn’t insulated properly for the colder months. But every day you requested a deep clean, all you got in return was the same salty response that you were only allowed to call the Determination Doppelgänger Defence for emergency cleanup. You knew for a fact that the people there weren’t allowed to ignore your calls, and it was very tempting to just keep bugging them until they fixed your cramped little room, but risking getting fired was not on the table. You were setting aside a portion of your paycheque every month in hopes to do the damn upkeep yourself, but so far, the most you could do was occasionally dust and pass a few surface wipes over the more disgusting areas to keep you sane. You even managed to scrape up the cash to get an inexpensive dehumidifier and some scent defusers… and some colourful stickers to put on the glass. It was miserable enough outside for everyone to come home from gruelling work in a crumbling grey city filled with untrustworthy strangers, only to then have an incredibly tense checkup that put their lives at risk as soon as they got back home. So you had a naive hope that the little heart and cat stickers and slightly less stagnant smells would encourage your neighbours to relax a little more…

It hadn’t really worked.

Except… you did have one person representing the proof that the world wasn’t completely lost out there and in here.

And speak of the devil.

That warm recognisable grin already had your dehydrated discouraged slump rise into a much more relieved state, tucking your hair back and ignoring the faint distain at its distinct greasiness. You really needed a shower. But hey, there was still a glass window between you and your favourite neighbour, and that artificial sweet rose scent was still on the air, so you had little to worry about when it came to smelling nice for him.

Despite his very apparent lack of eloquence, Sans worked as a freelance inventor, and damn was he good. But the poor guy was out almost every day, and though you were a little ashamed to admit the selfishness of it, whenever he came home late, it was the absolute highlight of your day. He was always the last one into the building, and on occasion you did wonder if the sweet little bastard went to the back of the line on purpose just to milk his time with you, but nevertheless, he always made sure you left your post to attend to the city’s curfew with a smile. There were even points that he refused to let you leave until he’d made you snort with laughter.

“that ID all up to scratch, kid?”

“you sure i’m on the list?”

“was that the D.D.D. logo…? maybe…”

He was the only neighbour that ever lingered, the only one that brought more attention to his forms rather than hoping you just let him through without a second glance at the checklist. Hells, at one point he’d even purposefully used an expired ID just to catch you off guard. The ass had given you the real one after, but he got a good earful from you, even when your heart was still thundering with terrified adrenaline, he grinned at you like some petty house cat. He never fidgeted, never twitched, just gave you that big smile and reminded you how good it felt to have a relaxed conversation with someone. Albeit a someone with a taste for pranks. Fake forms with wet ink, approaching the window with those dumb fake eyebrow and nose glasses on, he was so lucky there was something preventing you from smacking him upside the head when he got too silly. Still… he was the only one in the building that remembered your name.

With him sidling up to the glass, you were itching for stress relief. Today had been… long. Thankfully he skipped the pranks and just handed his ID and Entry Request in through the grate. He looked about as tired as you felt.

“evening, y/n, good hustle today?”

You grumbled with a non-committed frown, idly glancing through the letters you’d memorised.

“Mngh… you?”

“mnh…”

He leant his weight against the wall and his forehead against the cooling glass after his responding grumble. It made your frown lift just slightly. He never really went into details about his work, but despite his smiles and playful jabs, he always looked strained. Eye bags, bedraggled hair, and dirty slippers, poor guy looked so soft and tired you were always tempted to give in whenever he slyly offered to come into the booth and take a break with you before your governmentally enforced bedtime. You’d gathered with how much he worked during the day that offering some stress and obligation-free drinks back at your place wasn’t really feasible… N-not that it was to begin with. Having your end-of-day chats was always lovely, but you had strong suspicions he just wanted to be friendly about an uncomfortable situation, he had that kind of welcoming air about him, so asking a very handsome very sweet near-stranger for drinks would be weird… right? Yeah…

“that entry request looking pretty interesting today, huh?”

“Wha… Oh!”

Shit. You’d just been zoning out and staring at his picture. Blinking and rubbing your face to clear your eyes you handed the request and identification back through and quickly ticked off the checklist with mechanical efficiency and pressing the button to unlock the apartment complex’s door.

“Right, go on ahead.”

…

He didn’t move.

Kinda just idly watched the door open before those icy blue eyes dragged back to you.

“damn, you really are zonked out today. already trying to send me to bed, officer? and here i was thinking you liked our talks.”

He teased with a little grin while you busied yourself with signing the checklist with his name and apartment number before tucking it into your desk drawer to ignore how hot your cheeks were.

“You know I do.”

“then what’s the problem?”

Ughh… He was really good at this… Didn’t matter how hard you kept up a smile, Sans had better eyes than you did.

You rubbed your face again, digging the balls of your palms against closed eyelids to try and rub the calling sleep out of them. Double checking behind him through the glass to ensure there was no one else waiting… you sighed and slumped with a drawn out groan.

“i knew it. come on, what’s wrong?”

He refrained from immediate jokes, and… well you appreciated it. Today didn’t feel like one that could be saved with quips.

“…I got three of them today.”

He went silent for a moment, a twisted up sympathetic look souring his pretty smile, his voice growing even softer.

“they’re getting ambitious…”

“Mh…”

It wasn’t the first time you’d had an off day, but for months now most all Doppels had backed off your building, no matter how much you triple checked the papers… you didn’t want to think about what was happening at the other housing estates.

“i’m sorry, kid… the D.D.D. shouldn’t have made this stupid system.”

“Bots couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t trust them to be loose enough with the regulations that innocent people not wearing their usual hats wouldn’t get hurt.”

“you don’t know what they do to them during cleanup.”

“It’s implied, Sans…”

Another silence… your throat felt tight.

“Sorry…”

“about being the kindest person left in this damn city? don’t be. you gotta be the only person left that feels bad for doppels.”

He gave a gentle smile and carefully slid his hand through the grate, which you accepted gratefully. Human contact was so rare nowadays, everyone was terrified of everyone else. Business owners had their own strict rules to ensure they were selling goods to doppels. You knew they were dangerous but… ugh… it was such a complicated situation. But you weren’t about to put this responsibility on anyone else.

Sans squeezed your hand reassuringly, all you could do was pitifully bite back tears.

“I just… hate how bad it’s gotten. No one in the building trusts me and I’m supposed to be protecting them.”

Another gentle grip got your attention back to those heart-achingly sincere eyes.

“how long you been at this, kiddo? eight months? and not a single casualty. i don’t know about you but that’s fucking astounding. and even if you did slip up, a doppel’s sole purpose is to do so, make you fail, make you crumble under the pressure and let them in. not a soul at the D.D.D. could dream of being as gutsy as you.”

He hesitated for a moment before crouching down a little behind the glass, guiding your hand through the grate, and sending a full body quake through you when the last thing you expected was for warm lips to press a very tender kiss to your knuckles. When he looked up again, smiling warm as ever, you had an odd feeling that he was as hot in the face as you were currently.

“you’re doing great…”

You pursed your lips and felt your eyes blur and swim with tears, and if you hadn’t taken a moment to brush them away, you would’ve seen Sans smile dreamily as he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb.

“want me to come in there?”

“You know I’m not allowed…”

“you also ain’t allowed to stop and chat with me, but we’re well past that point.”

…

That was very true…

Maybe drinks at your place wasn’t impossible after all…

§

By this point Sans had the tone of how the stairs creaked ingrained into his skull. Walking up and down those death traps everyday was his only workout, and it was still too much.

But damn… who could care about that right now?

When he’d just gotten a solid few minutes cuddled up to his favourite little Human…?

You’d been so warm against him… so soft and delicate, it only made him prouder about his firm decision to make it clear to every other one of his kind that this building was off limits. And if the D.D.D. didn’t get to them first, Sans would be worse.

He would’ve stayed longer. Would’ve curled you up against him, lifted you up into his arms and carry you up these flights like he was lighter than air. But… gah, fuck. He got too excited. You had taken a few minutes to just cry against him, gripping his hoodie with those fragile intricate hands, letting him stroke your hair and soothe you. And then he just made you giggle with his stupid jokes until you were bright again. There had always been a difference between sunny smiles and your smile. Sunny was blinding and almost uncomfortable, it only really worked on the very young Humans, any older and they were either trying to get something from whoever they were smiling at or just wanted to leave the situation entirely. But your smile… it was less like the sun and more like… moon beams through the clouds. Soft and beautiful and natural… which was why he had to reluctantly escape far earlier than he would’ve liked.

Sans had been so absolutely blissed out by your deeply expressed gratitude and appreciation that he had been slipping… He was glad everyone else was already in their apartments, otherwise they’d have seen him shaking to get his key into the door with a grin that would split any Human’s cheeks apart.

He tried to breathe slower, do his regular exercises that had kept him alive for this long, but he just collapsed. As soon as he got the door shut, he stumbled onto his couch and clutched the pillows until they crackled and tore unpleasantly beneath his fingers. Not that he had long nails on anything, but hands were the hardest for him to keep up, it’s why he often stuffed them into his pockets to save a little extra energy. And now, all he could do was grin and claw at the cushions…

You were going to be the death of him…

[prismsofmystery]

Part two is out y'all hehe

Pretty plain cover art for now sorry.

Stephanie couldn't go to sleep. No no one's surprise the image of her father lifeless on the ground and her mother standing over him with wide eyes would haunt her for eternity.

She tried not to think about it, but it got harder and harder as the days went on, and McKendra's mental state was not helping.

Every now and then, Stephanie would catch McKendra staring at space, her once lively eyes now desolate. Sometimes it would take Stephanie calling her name 3 times for a response. It was scary seeing what her mother had become.

She got up out of bed, trying to stay as quiet as possible as to not wake McKendra. Not like she was even sleeping probably. She made her way towards the kitchen. She noticed McKendra sitting in her red chair. The same red chair her father sat in whenever he was home.

She tensed up, thinking her mother was awake, but she seemed slumped over in the chair instead, hat falling over her eyes. Stephanie let out a sigh of relief before opening the door and walking out, gently closing it behind her.

McKendra's eyes fluttered open before turning to the door. She squinted and glaring towards the window. It was not going to be a silent night, and she would make sure of it.

Stephanie made her way outside of the apartment in the dead of night. It was scarily easy to do with the doorman off duty. She promised herself she would only be out for a few minutes or up to an hour.

She looked around, taking in the night time air and scenery. Even if it looked slightly ominous, it was still nice to see. She turned to an area near a forest, thinking for a moment before crossing the street.

There wasn't much else to see, but that was okay. She had enough excitement in her life from 2-3 months ago. She tensed when she heard someone running up to her quickly. She quickly turned around, ready to put a bullet in its head if it dared to be a doppel.

It wasn't, she could tell. But she was still weary. It was just some man who needed her help with something. She was a bit hesitant, but it was almost midnight and possibly an emergency. She'd hate to turn away from someone who genuinely needed her help.

"Fine," she told him, putting her sunglasses back on, "but if you try any funny business, your head will be leavin' your neck."

She followed him to what looked like a broken vehicle. Stephanie took out her phone to call someone when she heard a gunshot. The man in front of her was shot point blank. She jumped and looked around for the source. She could definitely see the same eyes that she swore she saw in the store.

She wanted to run..to panic. Anything. But she just stood there. Still. She heard more footsteps and pulled a dagger from her pocket. She wasn't met by some armed gunman, but her mother.

"Ma…how did..you ain't…" McKendra pulled her into a hug, which Stephanie couldn't refuse. "You wasn't supposed to be awake yet, I.." Stephanie found it harder and harder to speak, so McKendra hugged her tighter.

"Shh. It's alright, Steph. I'm here now. And I won't ever let you leave me again."

Stephanie was a bit put off by this, but she decided to give her mother the benefit of the doubt and assume she meant something else. What else would she mean by that anyway..?

McKendra and Steph belong to @joydoesathing and I'll go back into my portal.

[honestlyboringperson]

Name: Yuuka Uchihara

Age: 17

Wish: “I wish for the dealings between both the Mikoshibas and their collaborators to go smoothly”

Power: Internal Map (Always knows where she is and the details on pathways and terrain)

Weapon: Naginata

Likes: Persimmons, Witch Hunting

Dislikes: Deceit

Element: Forest

Magia: The Land’s Judgement

Teammates: None

Witch/Doppel: Lucy

A dutiful and no nonsense diviner from the Tokime Tribe. She is responsible and holds her adoptive family of the Mikoshibas to a high degree. She is prideful in being a diviner and has spent her entire life training to be one. Nicknamed “Yura-Yura”.

BACKSTORY

Due to losing her parents at a young age, Yuuka was adopted by the Mikoshibas. One of the Magical Girls, or “diviners” as they are called, sensed her potential to be a magical girl and so the Mikoshibas started her training. She spent her whole life training to be a magical girl, from witch hunting tactics, to proper form when fighting.

When the day came to be assigned a wish by the Mikoshibas, and she got the wish for a dealing between the Mikoshiba’s benefactors to go well. When she approached that god-awful incubator, she made the wish and became a magical girl. She dutifully defeated witches, and aided townsfolk in their troubles without complaint.

This continued to happen, until she heard a dealing with an outsider with Mikoshiba. This dealing was about a wish a new magical girl was going to make. In this case, the successful mayoral campaign for an outside city. This confused Yuuka, as she was told her wish was for a dealing the Mikoshibas were having to stop corrupt people from hurting others by a meeting. This wish seemed selfish. Then it happened again. And again.

She came to the realization that their wishes were being sold to people like livestock. She tried to convince herself that hers was the outlier, that hers was for something good. When she inevitably had to swallow the fact that her wish was just for a business deal, she confronted Mikoshiba with her right hand man. Mikoshiba proceeded to sic her right hand man, who was a magical girl on Yuuka.

When she defeated her, Mikoshiba then framed her with assault and battery, disowned her, and Yuuka was exiled.

Yuuka thought back on her life. She realized she had no life outside of being a magical girl. She had no friends, no family, no hobbies, nothing. She realized she lost her home. She had nowhere to return to. all she could do was wander aimlessly. She began to sleep a lot. She dreamed of a world where she wasn’t a magical girl and the Mikoshibas weren’t rotten. She dreamed of going outside and meeting other people. As she slept her soul gem turned black, and she became a witch.

Even after becoming a witch, she was still under the thumb of the Mikoshibas, who used her in the Coming of Age ceremony to get rid of the magical girls close to “expiration”.

Doppel Description

The doppel of homesickness. It takes the form of a vagrant. After losing her faith in the home that once housed her, the master of this emotion now lays lost in a mess of crossroads, all leading to dead ends. The doppel aimlessly wanders, hoping to return to it’s home. However, no such place exists anymore and as such, the doppel just winds up following what ever pathway it’s on. If the doppel finds someone entering their house, it becomes overrun with sorrow and attempts to drag the person away. The master swings in the bag like body of her doppel, mulling over her mistakes.

[until-another-one-comes]

I DON'T WANT AFTON TO LEGITIMATELY BE EVIL I'D CRY FOREVERR

I FEEL YOU ANON

I'm not against him being evil but personally I'd prefer it if his whole situation with the Trojan Horse Project was a mistake and he never intended for the doppelganger situation to happen. My HC for Afton is that he's more of a man tortured by the guilt of being responsible for the doppelgangers and all the deaths they've caused. He also distances himself from the other neighbors because of his guilt and because he doesn't want to get too attached to any of them if they ever get killed by the doppels.

BUT I DON'T WANT HIM TO BE CANONLY EVIL AHHHHH

[muffinrecord]

Again we have this idea that you are "responsible for your own future" aka your survival depends on your own self. To live means that you need to do your best.

This isn't a bad concept because uh, yeah, when you fight for your life then you should be trying to keep yourself safe. It also seems vaguely hopeful. "The future is not set in stone" feels like saying that your death isn't a guarantee.

But what I think is lost in this line is that Yachiyo's way of survival isn't something other people can replicate or relate to. Yachiyo separates herself from others. She wants to work on her own and get more powerful to save herself. Not everyone can do that. Not just because Yachiyo has a magical power that lets her stay strong despite her age as a magical girl, but not everyone has desire or mental strength to be on their own without help from others.

So on the surface this feels like a fine thing to say, but underneath you can see how it would alienate other magical girls. Can you imagine Mifuyu hearing this as Mifuyu gets weaker? Mifuyu, who felt like her future as a witch was certain. Mifuyu, who would have become a witch without the doppel system. Can you imagine her hearing this and taking the extension of its meaning: if the future was not set in stone and you died anyway, then you were too weak to change that future. No wonder Mifuyu left her.

This is why I keep calling this aspect of Yachiyo a flaw. It's her thinking that anything can be overcome with hard work. It doesn't acknowledge that other people can't be like that, and it doesn't acknowledge that Yachiyo is lucky or special to be able to keep going on. Again though, in Yachiyo's defense, it's not like she knows that she has this magical inheritance of power.

Lastly though, I do think this is interesting because again it brings to mind that this isn't just Yachiyo saying this advice to us, but to herself. Because Yachiyo DOES believe that this exists. She believed that being around Iroha would get Iroha killed. Yachiyo felt that her wish meant that others around her would die. So despite saying that the future is not set in stone, she still has certain beliefs that her survival depends on others taking the pain that was meant for her.

I think maybe this is why she wants to believe so badly that she can overcome anything with hard work and experience. If she works hard enough and stays powerful enough, she won't get hurt and more importantly no one else will get hurt in her stead.

[joydoesathing]

Regarding the "least to most likely to protect themselves from the doppels", others used guns and some don't. Who do you think are those who are skilled in martial arts or at least knows how to physically defend themselves? Like no guns and knives, just objects around them to defend themselves and fists

if you're talking about those who actually know how to physically defend themselves (like they don't just go "willy-nilly fight mode" in response to fear and start hucking stuff around), I guess it would be the twins, glenn, michael, stephanie* and mckendra*

(*: if there are no guns around)

[cecilknightoflant]

A response to Cecil not knowing that Doppel Luka is, in fact, not Luka. (@notlukathefakehero)

[kyrakyrakitty]

madoka magica walpurgisnacht rising half-baked theories below cut!!

i was just thinking, and idk if this means anything, but id like to draw your attention to homuras doppel in magireco (coolmura, not moemura)

her description reads: "The Doppel of Karma. It's form is the mortal world. The master of this emotion visits many worlds in search of an exit, spinning giant threads of fate. Fourteen incomplete bodies born from emotion trail behind the master's body, which has almost completely transformed into glass. In order to achieve their mission, these 14 bodies work methodically and tirelessly to remove obstacles. Regardless of their master's will, they weave the threads of fate, which become tangled in ever more complex patterns, driving her yet further into a maze, the exit of which can hardly be found. These bodies of emotion have no names."

fourteen "bodies of emotion" taking the form of homura that act of their own accord to entrap their master? if we take magireco as canon (i like to pretend its completely separate and have strong opinions about why it shouldn't be canon LOL but thats not important), then these definitely seem like incomplete versions of the clara dolls. it might just be an allusion to them, but it could be taken to imply that their initial forms are various homuras - that they don't take on the form of clara dolls as we know them until homulily is realized.

if we run with this idea, then does that say anything about homuras existence as it pertains to the witch system? maybe that she's still destined to become a witch, but has yet to fully mature? from there, can we also further back up the claim that homura will become walpurgisnacht? homulily's power was constrained by her existence within a soul gem, but between losing that constraint and inevitably gaining karma from pulling part of god away, surely homura could become an even more powerful witch, right?

side note with regards to the 15th clara doll, ai, who is said to have "not arrived yet" - i was thinking about what homura says to kyubey as she becomes a demon: that he could never hope to understand her new power because said power is love (ai). maybe she's suggesting (either intentionally or inadvertently) that the final clara doll herself is responsible for this new world order. and since love is an emotion she shares with madoka, maybe instead of taking homuras form, ai takes inspiration from both homura and madoka - the two sources of her emotion. i think that would make sense alongside both the theory that the mystery trailer girlie is (a) ai, and (b) a mix of both homura and madoka. ai is the one emotion that is intrinsically tied to madoka; her existence would be impossible without both homura and madoka.

im kinda just rambling here, but it'd be super neat if this gave anyone any ideas to share!! id love to hear your thoughts!! ♡ i hope you find reason to smile today!!

[asphalt-eater]

heartless characters and whether they would jaywalk

heartless: sometimes but never on purpose. he's just too excited

alchemy: never. they are too responsible to endanger themself or others

flint: never. he gets upset when people do

eira: sometimes, whenever he needs to be angsty and cool

doppel: absolutely all the time

glass: never. gets really freaked out when doppel jaywalks

river: never on purpose, she knows the risks

alastor: he rarely sets foot in public anyway without a reason, but if he had the chance he would not jaywalk

lorelei: in her public persona she has to set a good example so she never jaywalks, but when she has big breakdown and stops holding back she will walk into places with the sole purpose of jaywalking

diana: does not care enough. jaywalks

lance: he jaywalks all the time

bandy: he doesn't cross roads by walking, he does acrobat tricks, so he less jaywalks and more jayflies

dock: any chance he gets. its how you know he's evil.

krome: occasionally. hes chill but also has to follow a code

brooke: never. shes very sensible

moira: the roads aren't usually dangerous where she lives, so she's used to jaywalking

arthyr: never jaywalks

murphy: cat. pretty much invented jaywalking