the-elevator-twins

[the-elevator-twins]

>[The paper is fragrant with perfume and aged ink, and the letters are delicately drawn in... but... it's pure gibberish! Nothing read makes sense, the words are written in english, and the handwriting is clear, but it's impossible to wrap your head around it!]

>[The more you stare, the more it hurts, but the harder it is to look away. You think you feel a headache forming.]

>[But... it's oddly fascinating. And there's definitely some sort of meaning, there has to be!]

*SLAM*

(i) > Jumping as the sudden noise, you blink to notice the book was not shut close, thanks to your brother holing your hands. Bewildered by this, you shot him a confused gaze. He speaks before you can start.

> "You looked like you were getting sick. I can't have you start scratching your eye out or worse." > " Your concern for me is misplaced. . . I was trying to read the confines... but.. it was generally much harder than I anticipated. . ." > "Can't read. . ? Hmmm..."

(i) > Your brother takes the book from your hands, quickly moving to the table. He seems to stare for a moment, only to tear out a page of the book, causing you to become frantic.

> "Are you nuts!? Do you plan on speeding up the process of our demise?!" > "Shut up. I'm focusing."

(i) > The apartment light flicks on, and so, Neil holds the piece up to luminate the paper. With some squinting, he seems to move it back to the book where it was torn. Aligning it with the edges, he turns to you.

"You're not going to like what I'm going to say about this. . ." "Do I ever?" "It's not that it's hard to read, you just can't read it. I figured if we took it out of the book and shined it at an angel, I' be able to tell you what's written." "Well. . . Did you?"

(i) > He's gone quiet, but the look in his eyes leads you to believe he saw something. Something you can't.

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ protag: replies #// ✂️ antag: replies

[the-elevator-twins]

>[The door is knocked on, another gift being bore by the hands of someone unknown. But through the glasses of the anonymous, you see it's glowing eyes, as it smiles]

"I see you two enjoyed my previous gift! Here you go, number two!"

>[Number two of what? There could be thousands, what a worrying thought]

>[It hands you a large book, that's oddly light despite it's size. It's locked heavily, but with a single touch, they seem to undo]

"Enjoyyy!~"

>[It laughs and the door closes without it even being touched]

>[The memory of the dolls is still fresh in your mind, and sometimes the shadows seem to flicker with movement as if they're still there, though your mind tricks you frequently. Do you read the book?]

(i) > The alarm bells in your head go off seeing such a thing. This... this is just like IT. Just like those dolls. The ominously cheerful tone about enjoying its 'gift' sent shivers down your spine. Quickly, you tried to decline the offer, but it was all in vain when the strange entity left.

> "Hey! You bastard! Get back here!!"

> "Hold on a second!"

(i) > You reach your hand out to stop your brother, looking up at him and vigorously shaking your head. Pursuing a creature like that wouldn't warrant results.

> "Sh-Should we destroy it. . ? Neil?"

> "I don't know, Nigel. . . Have you seen how things are handled with that cursed box and dolls? For all we know, this can be attached to us already. . . I would rather not get hexed again, so it's your turn to deal with the spooky mumbo jumbo shit."

(i) > How thoughtful. . . Though, your brother makes a point. He has suffered enough demons, as have you. Maybe one peek wouldn't hurt. . . would it?

> "It was locked up. . . Like this is forbidden knowledge . . . What if it's something not to be seen . . ?"

> "You make it sound like we have a choice in the place. Just open the damn book. It's not going to maul your face off."

> "Alright, Alright . . .fine. . ."

(i) > With shaken hands, you moved your thumb to the cover of the page. Chewing at your lip, you flip it open to the front page. . .

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ protag: replies #// ✂️ antag: replies #// curse anon 2: eletric boogaloo... whats good dawg? /)“

[the-elevator-twins]

(Drops in an inkwell filled with dark red ink, and a red quill with a needlepoint nib on it, and a case full of different kinds of nibs.)

"Here ya go! I'm sure Elise won't mind if I gave you her special ink and quill for now!"

> "Elise. . ? Is that someone who used to work here. . ??"

(i) > You glance at your brother for some kind of explanation. Yet, as always, he doesn't provide an answer. A half-temped shrug was given before he rolls the nibs against the case.

> "Whoever it is, she's trusting us to take care of it. If I were you, I'd be careful."

(i) > The irony here is palpable. . .

> "The feather looks nice. She must love the color red."

> "Maybe she likes you."

> "Huh-- What are you talking about?"

(i) > Again, Neil ignores your question, though this time, he lets out a quiet snicker to himself. All you can do is roll your eyes and hope to keep this 'gift' in good condition until then.

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ protag: replies #// ✂️ antag: replies #// rare lgts mention real???

[the-elevator-twins]

(i) > Ah. So it really was another version of yourself. That tiny hope you had of escaping this awful place had deflated inside you. Relying on a much more childish version of yourself surely wouldn't be the best option. . .

> "I'm. . . also Protag. Just a couple of years older than you. It's nice to meet you."

(i) > It's best not to reveal your own name, you reckon a certain darkness looms over it if spoken. Once again, eyes look around the all too eerily similar room. Chills are sent shivering down your spine once making eye contact with the specific wall hanging above the bed.

"Are you okay? Aren't you all alone. . ? Shouldn't you be more. . . quiet. . ?"

> "Hello. . ? Is anyone there? Please. . . Someone. . !!"

(i) > You've been trying to contact someone from the TV, yet you haven't had much luck. Your "twin" has fallen asleep against the couch, snoozing away. In all honesty, you want to give up.

. . .

(i) > You would have, if you didn't notice the strange shift of the TV becoming much clearer. You look inside to see it's that horrible room. Your old apartment. It's unnerving, but... something out sticks out. Another you... a much smaller version of you.

> "Wh-What in the world. . ?"

(i) > Hesitantly, you tap the glass, hoping for some kind of reaction this time.

>The smaller version of you heard the tapping noises, he turned his head to the screen. He stares at it curiously, he still hasn't seen you yet before walking up at the screen. He now looks confused to see you, and isn't really sure if he should say anything to you.

"...?"

#ask kidprotag ~ rp int.

[the-elevator-twins]

(i) > You can't help but flinch slightly and lean back. After all, you're not too sure if the TV itself is cursed from all the gifts you and your "twin" received.

(i) > Maybe you're overthinking this a bit. . .

> (He. . . He looks a lot like me. . . Like us. . . Is this just another trick?)

(i) > Niel's snoring starts to quiet down as he snoozes. He turns on his side to nuzzle into his arm, shifting to go back to dream land. You can't help but mimic the head tilt as well before asking your question.

> "Umm. . . Hello. You must be. . . Protag, right?"

> "Hello. . ? Is anyone there? Please. . . Someone. . !!"

(i) > You've been trying to contact someone from the TV, yet you haven't had much luck. Your "twin" has fallen asleep against the couch, snoozing away. In all honesty, you want to give up.

. . .

(i) > You would have, if you didn't notice the strange shift of the TV becoming much clearer. You look inside to see it's that horrible room. Your old apartment. It's unnerving, but... something out sticks out. Another you... a much smaller version of you.

> "Wh-What in the world. . ?"

(i) > Hesitantly, you tap the glass, hoping for some kind of reaction this time.

>The smaller version of you heard the tapping noises, he turned his head to the screen. He stares at it curiously, he still hasn't seen you yet before walking up at the screen. He now looks confused to see you, and isn't really sure if he should say anything to you.

"...?"

#the elevator twins #// ✂️ protag: replies #ask kidprotag ~ rp int. #(( its fine its fine!! #(( i understood how it is ^^“

[the-elevator-twins]

*drops in a new TV from the heavens*

Now, you can talk with others from the outside world! Enjoy!~

~ ???

(i) > After the events of your cursed nightmare. Both you and your "twin" were trying to watch the television. Neither of you wanted to speak on the matter of what transpired, but you both wanted to discuss it deep down.

> "Give me the remote, I wanna change the channel." > "What? I just changed it to this, can you at least give it a try-" > "No, give it to me--"

(i) > Your "twin" stole the remote, clicking on the news channel. Same old news caster... Honestly, when was--

CRASH

(i) > Good God, you nearly jumped out of your skins, seeing the old television smashed to bits on the floor. A brand new television that almost seemed indestructible took it's predecessor's place.

> "WHAT THE FUCK!? I JUST WANTED TO WATCH SOMETHING ELSE!!"

(i) > Of course, a remote was dropped onto your lap, making your "twin" scoff and mutter favoritism. If recalled correctly, you're both the same person. . .

(i) > Their way, you switch on the TV, perking up at the improved quality and seeing an all too familiar dark and blonde patch of hair.

> "H-Hey. . . That's us! W-Well. . . Me and you. . ." > "I thought elevators didn't have cameras. . ." > "It's a side view, doesn't look like it's in the back or front. . ." > "We'll the no smoking sign is there. . . Maybe this is the left side?"

(i) > There's no way this is your own timeline. . . Maybe this was another one? Before the fall. . ? Regardless, you crank up the volume to hear better. Maybe someone else can hear your signal for help.

> "H-Hello!? Can you hear me!? Please tell me you can hear us! We're trapped. . !" > "Hey! Don't ignore us! Hello?! God dammit help us!"

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ protag: replies #// ✂️ antag: replies #// rp interactions real??? probably not but danke for the idea purple anon! (( ^ -^ /)(\ ))

[the-elevator-twins]

(î) > After the feast, you return to the home, your clothes stained of blood. You need more to appease the Entity. You only ate so much, but you need more. More to satisfy it, controlling you.

(î) > You feel good about yourself, something you haven't felt in a long time. It likes you, it wants you to keep going, that euphoric feeling of killing again makes you more alive, more right. It's almost like how you held no remorse cutting away and nearly killing your colleague months ago.

(î) > You don't even need to check where he's hiding, your brother. You slam your shoulder against the door multiple times. Just enough until it breaks open, and you stand with a bruised shoulder. You raise your scissors to get the advantage of his startled expression.

(î) > . . . But he never lifts his head.

(î) > Your frenzy quickly turns to confusion, then quickly turns to fear. The pair of scissors slips between your blood coated fingers before collapsing.

> Nigel. . ? Nigel no. . . Nonononono. . !!"

(î) > Quickly, you check for a pulse, but as you feared most, your younger brother has passed. There is no life in him as you start to cry, shaking him and begging him to come back. You can't be alone. That stress would kill you.

> "What have I done. . ?"

(î) > Suddenly, you are stripped of the chance to grieve your brother's demise. Back out in that hopeless void, you see the all too familiar exit door to your home. You try to move, your youbare restricted.

(î) > A sharp object is pierced through the back of your chest. The tip takes out your heart as you squirm in anguish. Howling like the monster you were, yet you aren't dead. . .

> "My God, take this non-believer as a holy sacrifice. "

> "May he be displayed on your cross as a symbol of your eternal light."

> "Strip him of his hands so he may repent, taking the freedom of others while used for evil."

(î) > The adrenaline is wearing down. You van only moan in pain for help.

> "Let his heart of darkness be exposed to bathe in your glorious light. "

> "Let him become the mark. The Cain to his Abel."

(î) > You don't want to die. You don't want to die. You don't want to die. You don't want to die. Not like this. Anything but this

> "If he refuses to give up his beliefs, we will do what is necessary for defines like him. . ."

(☠️) > ENDING 15B: MARTYRDOM

(i) > You're back here again. Raising your head up from the table. Looking around, you notice your brother sleeping on the couch. For a moment, there's pain in your chest. You rub the sore spot only to look for the box.

(i) > It's not here. . . Not yet anyway.

> "I'll make it right this time."

(i) > TIMELINE RESET. ESCAPE.

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ antag: replies #// ✂️ protag: replies

[the-elevator-twins]

hi dpnt have to answer this ask in general since its ooc

but i absolutely adore your artwork and the story you've created it gives me so much motivation to continue my own studio investigrave au

please continue this further <<<33

// GHSAFAHAFSA TYSM... I DUNNO WHAT IM WRITING, BUT HONESTLY IT'S THANKS TO SKETCHYREJECT FOR HELPING ME OUT GWAH

#the elevator twins #// mod mandika #// heart hands

[the-elevator-twins]

>[The voices continue on chanting their praise as Neil succumbs to the curse and begins to eat]

>[You run off into the darkness, back to your isolated home. The notepad sits on the table, and the place is undisturbed, aside from Bruce, who not sits on the table, despite being in your pocket just moments ago. It watches you walk through your home with a grim expression.]

>[You have little time, it tells you. It's warning you of things, but the thoughts are fragmented, none of them making any sense. Images of your "twin", full of fury, madness, hungry, slavering jaws. Not a scrap of humanity left in him, as his body twists and contorts, into some sort of monstrous version of himself, of yourself]

>[You can't run. You can't hide. Soon enough, he'll catch you. The void is infinite, but so, so small. Give it a day. An hour. A few minutes.]

Cw: implied suicide, read at your own risk

(i) > You slam the door to your home, panting as you push things to block the door. Despite all the endless running, you panic. Everything around you is spiraling further down into madness. Stress overtakes tou as you grip your hair and scream. How... How do you fight back? How can you save him? Yourself?

(i) > Feeling your face become wet, you start to break down in tears. Honestly, you can't help it. Ever since that cursed doll made its appearance, your life has become a living hell. In what way can you salvage this? How can it all go back to normal?

(i) > With a glimpse, you notice Bruce. He whispers things. Awful things. Nothing to help console you, nothing about breaking the curse, nothing. Nail dig into your scalp as you panic from within, your own anxiety turning against you. This was it. This is how you die.

(i) > You'll die alone. And you'll repeat this nightmare over and over and over. All the pain and suffering, the fear of your "twin." There's no escape from where you are. In metaphorical terms, you are stuck in the mouse trap.

> "I-I can't. . . I can't die to him. . ! Not again. . !!"

(i) > You only know one way out of this, but you'll have no idea where you'll end up. Hell, you might not even come back from this. Maybe you'll finally die and be brought into the afterlife.

(i) > . . .

(i) > You know what you have to do, even if you're not ready. Moving to the notepad, you ripped out the previous scribbles, scattering them on the ground. With shaken hands, you jot down a memoir. Writing your experience with the curse, how it affects your "twin" and yourself.

(i) > It's hard to hold the notepad steady with your left hand. The pain still hurts, yet you continue through the pain. You pen your final words. . . How you shouldn't have been such a coward, how you only let this madness continue. Tears drip onto the pages as you pen the final sentence with a shaken breath.

(i) > Gently taking hold of Bruce, you get him a small squeeze before sitting him next to your pet rats, who still hide in their corners. All that mutters out of your mouth is a pitiful sorry before moving to the bathroom.

(i) > You slid the notepad into the bottom drawer, making sure it was closed completely. Locking the bathroom door, the uninjured hand grabs the bottle of sleeping pills. In truth, you're scared, but what other choice do you have left. . ?

(i) > For once, you want to die peacefully. No more fires, or being eaten, being shot at, choking on your own blood. . .

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. . . I'm so sorry, Neil, I-I can't - "

(i) > You won't let him have his way. You eont have IT have it's way.

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ protag: replies #// ruh roh what will he do #// read at your own risk augh

[the-elevator-twins]

"DO NOT WASTE YOUR TIME WITH HIM"

>[A voice rings out in Neil's mind as his "twin" runs off]

"FEED FIRST, YOU'RE SO... HUNGRY, IT'S NOT HEALTHY TO STARVE YOURSELF"

>[The doll... it's not in his pocket anymore. Behind him, looms a form, tall and thin, resembling the doll, but... alive. It's face is contorted into a wide smile, and it's laughing softly. It points to the two corpses, and suddenly vanishes, replaced with the simple doll on the floor]

>[The voices still clap and applaud, but now, they show more. They show concern, care for him. When had his twin ever truly done that? They approve of him, they validate him, and it feels so, so good. The corpses have an odd appeal to them right now, as the smell of the monster's blood fill the air]

"FEED, YOU WILL CATCH THAT FAKER IN YOUR OWN HOME, THE COWARD WILL RETREAT THERE. THEN HE WILL BE TRAPPED, THE HELPLESS PREY TRAPPED IN IT'S OWN DEN"

(î) > You stop dead in your tracks, watchin your younger brother shrink away as he runs. Seeing him run all scared made you rekindle the hatred you had for yourself. How weak you were, how nothing went your way. It makes you sick to let him go so quickly.

(î) > Turning your head back, you are met face to face with the doll, or rather, the entity finally manifesting some form. It looks like you. . . with that awful grin on your face. Before you get the chance to question it, the monster points to the corpses.

(î) > A feast, fit for someone just like you. Apathetic and full of unchained hatred. No longer do you care about your morals, your brother, or this place. You're just. . . hungry.

(î) > Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. H̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̋̑͌̍̇ͅ��̼̱y̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅH̶̩̼̩̫͔̙͍͉̳͔̮̮̳͎͌͌̀͐̈́̄u̵̡̡̩̭̒͊͐̿̉͛͐͐͒̋̏̐͘͝n̸͈̫͈͙̝̣̼̺̰͓̙̦̱͇̑̽̔͆͊̽̀̔̂̚͝ͅǵ̶͖͓̗̙̞͉̪̻̃̐̂̽͗̎̽̉̉̎̕͠ȓ̶̖̦̼̱̋̑͌̍̇ͅy̵̢̡̠̜̫̮̦̺͎̞̮̥̟̝̥͑̃̈̑͋.̶̮̝͍̻̱́̈͆̕͝ͅ ̴̢̛̹̳̳̪̟͚̘̥̲̆̂̀̊͝ͅͅ

(î) > ¥ðµ wïll Ðêål wï†h †hê §kï§h mðµ§ê ðñ¢ê ¥ðµ rꆵrñ hðmê. ñð† lïkê hê hå§ åñ¥whêrê l꣆ †ð gð.

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ antag: replies #// protag dyin fr? sadge #// also mb for the slight eye strain

[the-elevator-twins]

>[The pocketed doll clearly feels strong disdain for the two seated with Neil. Is it because he hates them? Or because it knows what they are? No matter, it continues to urge him, to kill them. It gives him confidence, the thought that he could kill them.]

>[It wants to hurt them just as badly as he does, just as badly as you wanted to on floor 8- why is that his first thought? Doesn't matter.]

>["Bruce" is shaken up when you head out, bringing it along. It's full of anxiety, and you feel it yourself, in your veins. It tries to tell you to go back, in it's ow little way. It doesn't think it's safe. It's warning you of... Neil? Telling you t be afraid of your "twin".]

> "And that's all? What? Do you seriously think you're going to stop us? Come on, we're pals! I'm sure we can-"

> "You two–things–are not my 'pal'. Simple as that, I want you to stay the fuck away from him."

> "Or what? Do you seriously think you stood a chance? 2v1, and you think you're getting out of this unscathed. . . Stupid."

(î) > They lunge at you, manic looks in their eyes as they prepare to tear you apart. However, you're prepared. Kicking one monster down, your priority to kill these two freaks yourself. If there's one thing, it's your quick thinking and agility against two meat heads. With your scissors drawn, you began reliving old experiences.

(î) > Things that made you feel good, feelings of being cheered on for your work. These two couldn't coordinate even if they tried. You'll win this battle by any means necessary.

(i) > Absent minded, you push on, panicking, and you search for him. Shouting into the abyss, holding Bruce close, you don't have that much strength to properly fight, but you reckon you'll be alright.

> "Pl-Please, please be alright. . ! Please don't be dead. . !!"

(i) > You know Bruce is adamant about not exploring this place, and neither are you. You want to go back to safety, back to that false sense of security in your home. You haven't forgotten what your "twins" done to you. The pain in your hand is still present.

(i) > He's all you had left at this God awful company. This place of bewilderment and chaos. You needed a job, this job to support yourself. All you wanted was a stable income, do what was asked of you, and return home on your own personal time. What's wrong with that?

(i) > You spot something in the distance. It looks like an open bar. Keeping Bruce close, you try to pick up the pace as it slowly comes closer. The distant shouts and sounds of fighting can be heard.

> "NEIL!! NEIL HOLD ON!!"

(i) > By the time you get there, you're a panting mess, needing to catch a break. Seeing your "twin" loom over two bodies of your coworker and his colleague, you see the terror in their eyes that slowly become lifeless. Pocketing Bruce from view you raised up your hands, hearing your "twin" laugh in a sick and twisted manner.

> "Ah. . . That was rejuvenating. I've been wanting to scratch that itch for a long time now. . ."

> "N-Neil-- Neil, I need you to calm down -"

> "Oh, I'm calm, trust me. This is probably the calmest I've ever felt falling down here."

(i) > You see him clutch at his stomach as he laughs. Is he insane? In pain? Hungry? In all honesty, you can't tell. Seeing those scissors again makes you panic, but you keep a safe distance from his reach. Instinctively, you back away before your flight response kicks in.

> "HEY! GET BACK HERE!!"

(i) > Now you're on the run from your "twin," whose maniacal laughter echos within the void. You don't dare turn your head back and keep running into the darkness from where you came.

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ protag: replies #// ✂️ antag: replies

[the-elevator-twins]

>[The doll calls, even as Neil brings it outside. The ever-present violent urges are still there, but no anger is felt. It still likes Neil.]

>[The urges only intensify around the two, and the voices start muttering things. "Day 15", you're almost at that point, everything has played out the same as that notebook, other than the recovery of the second doll, and the fact that this doll carries no resentment toward you. It never mentioned the feelings of the doll liking that man... but those images... were they real? Or delusion? The last pages, scrawled in hatchy lettering, mutterings of nonsense. Were they purely his crumbling mind? Or was there something direct happening to him?]

>[Neil will have to find out. But... there's definitely something he's noticing right now... as his insides feel like they're beginning to claw deeply at him. He feels sick, but... also like he hadn't eaten in days]

>[Morning comes, and your sleep was undisturbed. But it's oddly quiet... too quiet.]

>[Where is your "twin"?]

> "So, where's your older brother? He's usually way too grumpy to come out most of the time isn't he? Sheesh, poor guy should get some friends. . ."

(î) > You sit at a local bar wedged in-between the two blonde monsters. An old-fashioned sits in your hand, yet you do not drink. By no means are you a heavy drinker, far from it. After all you need to be alert, at the ready in case they plan to kill you.

> "He's sleeping. Definitely didn't want him to get woken up so late at night. . . Hasn't been feeling well."> "Oh . . . How disappointing. Feels wrong without him here. Oh well."

(î) > That's the point, yes. Studious observation there Colleague. Not like you bothered to do that when trapped in an elevator now did he? Shaking your cynical words away, you beam in false happiness.

> "Sometimes. . . It's best to just leave him alone."

(î) > As nauseating as it was, you tried to push the urge down, at least for now. . . The starvation hits you like a truck, your thoughts in a jumble from past scripts. There's a distinct buzzing in your head, yet you wait. You can fold these fools one way or another.

(î) > You have to. For him.

> "Hey . . . I need to ask you two something. Something important."

(i) > Groggily you awaken from your bed. With a stretch, you hold the doll close. No nightmares, at least not yet. Swinging your legs out of bed, you moved to the rest of the complex. Firstly you notice how quiet it is, then you take notice of your brother's absence. Still, you call out to him just in case.

> "N-Neil . . ? Neil where are you?"

(i) > Radio silence from your "twin" is enough to set off alarm bells in your head. Quick to check the bathroom, you move to the bottom cabinet to notice the draw open. Immediately dread washes over you at the sudden realization.

> "Shit!! Shit shit! No no no . . ! Please tell me he didn't. . !"

(i) > You don't care if you die out there. You just want your "twin" back. Neil was all you had left to keep verbal company. With Bruce still in your hands, you threw on your blazer and slipped on your shoes. Your overall belts dangle loosely as you push open the door out into the darkness.

(i) > You want him safe, you want him home. Long ago, you accepted that your life had no value apart coming to this job. With that chance stripped away from you, all you had left was yourself. Someone manifested to be you. It doesn't matter now if you die and are sent back here, the elevator, or nowhere at all.

> "Neil! Neil!! Don't!! PLEASE!!"

(i) > You run in the darkness, praying that Neil will be okay by the time you're there.

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ protag: replies #// ✂️ antag: replies

[the-elevator-twins]

>[The first few pages read like journal entries]

"Day 1.

I have come across this small chest, which gives off very bad energy. As a studious person, I could not help myself, and opened it. After a few tests, I am well aware I am cursed, and have taken it upon myself to study the contents. I have found a small doll resembling myself inside, and it seems to whisper to me when I look at it. There's a few pins, and another doll, resembling my childhood friend. The one of me wants something from me. But I'm managing"

"Day 3.

I cracked. Only slightly. The doll wanted me to kill something. I kept down the urges but... it liked it. It was simply a rat. The doll has greatly changed in appearance, now grinning at me, holding a small dagger, resembling the one I was gifted by my friend. Speaking of. That doll has seemed to vanish." [The rest is scribbled out, with scratchy notes, and tears in the page]

"Day 15.

I feel unwell. I am ill, and hungry. Starving. The doll watches me, it's eyes follow me through the room, and it feels almost alive, squirming in my grip. I tried to lock it in the box, but it made me let it out. I don't know how much more I can take, it's angry. I'm not a violent man, I'm not a violent man." [The page repeats that over and over]

"Day 19.

I killed a kid* and ate it. The urged were too strong. I feel like an animal. I am locking myself in my home until further notice" *"I mean a young goat." [It clarified that in red ink]

"Day... whatever

I slept too much, time keeps passing but I struggle to keep track. No point in studying this anymore. If you're reading this, I'm sorry. It tries to talk t e, i hear it. It never stops talking. It's mad at me. It's so mad... I want it to forgive me. What can I do?"

>[The notebook continues in rather rambly pages... but there's several drawings, depicting a visibly angry doll, and shaky, bloody hands. The worst one depicts a man hunched over, needle in his back, pinning the doll onto him. He's contorted, teeth sharp. Blood and viscera scattered throughout the image. "IT WANTS ME" is written everywhere]

(î) > Completing the notepad, you stare at the hard cover. So. . . It has been a cursed passed down from host to host. And given ho there was no concluding notes on how to stop it, your heart sinks in fear. Now you finally grasp the severity of the situation at hand. As long as you're stuck here, you risk killing your brother.

(î) > Probably eating him, if the writer's misreading was corrected. You ponder to yourself for a moment on what to do. Killing your brother was not an option you were going to follow through, even if it killed you. But you also risk losing your brother as well if you forfeit your life now. You hate feeling trapped like this.

(î) > You decide to wait. . .

(î) > It's now night time in the complex, your brother is sleeping on his bed, keeping that filthy doll close to him. There's no point in harming it now. Moving to the bathroom, you pull out the stolen drawer key for the bottom lock. Quietly you unlock it to find the said doll and a pair of blood rusted scissors.

(î) > Nothing comes out of your lips as you pick up the two items and close it once more with your foot. Making your way to the large exit doors, you dress yourself to be a little more presentable, almost like before when you first arrive, minus your cream button up. Knocking come to the door, and immediately you force a smile.

> "Hey! It's you newbie! God, you took forever to answer. I was beginning to think you were dead in there or something! Hah!" > "Right. . . Sorry, it's been a long week." > "If it's alright with you, would you mind going out with us for drinks? We need to talk."

(î) > You're restricting as much of your facial expression as you can when 'he' talks. God looking at him makes you physically sick. It just reminds you of how much your brother dotes on this pathetic lump of meat in front of you.

> "I would kill for some beer right about now. Sure! Why not! Let's get going then. . !"

(î) > In truth, you're scare to do this alone. Normally you'd make Colleague do everything for you, but now that's not possible. Now you have a sense of responsibility. For once, you actually feel like a big brother, even though you and Nigel are the same age.

(î) > You suffered enough as is. Nigel doesn't need to see such a grusome end for you. If you're going to carry this curse, your going to die fighting it.

(î) > Even if it means abandoning your younger brother for his safety.

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ antag: replies

[the-elevator-twins]

>[The doll's air of anxiety is soothed as soothed as it is patched up. It starts to radiate a presence of calmness, it seems much more comfortable without your twin around. It feels almost like it's... listening to you. If it hadn't been for the past couple of weeks, that would seem batshit crazy.]

>[But now, it's just the norm. Like everything else.]

>[The doll seems to like you. It likes being called by a name too. You don't know why, but you can just tell. The closeness to you, the comfort... is this what the real Colleague is like?]

>[Outside of the room, Neil is left alone. The notepad is left on the table, and for once, there's no pages exposed. The front is made from leather, and from the side, it looks like the pages get progressively worse in shape]

>[Read it?]

(i) > You couldn't help the small smile plastered on your face as you held the doll close. Despite it's scars, you find the doll endearing. Colleague always seemed like the runt of the two back on floor 8. It was honestly kind of sad to see him in the state he was in. You reckon you can become a menace if you really were trapped like that.

> "Maybe I shouldn't call you Bryce per say. . . That would be my coworker's name. . . If he ever sticks to one." > "What about. . . Bruce? It's a nicer name for someone like him."

(i) > Talking bad about your coworker like that when he's not even here. . . That's a new low, even for you. Despite that, you're content on naming him Bruce for now. Keeping it close has a sense of fondness wash over you.

(î) > With your brother tending to the second doll, you flip through the lifeless channels upon your TV. News coverage, ads, more ads, static. . . It bores you quickly with how little there is of entertainment in this hellhole. Still, better here than up there in that small cramped box.

(î) > You get up to get a snack from the refrigerator, but in a glimpse of an eye, you noticed the notepad, closed. Picking up the already cursed object in your safe space of 'home' you squint to look at the sides. You've never been one to be messy, at least back then, but seeing all the papers in poor condition discourages you.

(î) > Curiosity gets the better of you, sadly you're aware of that fact. After all, the damage to yourself is already done. In the end, you're cursed to remain here for the rest of your days. Why worry about cursed entities wanting you to kill and suffer?

> "Honestly. . . You just love being cryptic, don't you?" > "Fine, what utter chaos do you want me to commit this time?"

(î) > In your brother's absence, you take the notepad back to the couch and flip open the contents.

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ protag: replies #// ✂️ antag: replies

[the-elevator-twins]

Just an average day in the complex

#the elevator twins #// ooc post #elevator hitch

[the-elevator-twins]

>[Some time passes, a few days even, with not a sound from the box. Nothing seems to come of it. But there's silence in the twin's heads. No dreams or voices bother them. The blonde-haired doll still hasn't seemed to turn up.]

>[Until it is randomly found, left in a vent, which had been mysteriously unscrewed. It lay on it's chest, facing the outside, as if it were watching. It's chest is wide open again, but the thread used to stitch it up is still there, but it has been sliced open.]

>[The doll is limp, missing a large portion of stuffing, red ink spattered over it's chest. It's face is unmistakably covered in darker stubble]

> "Again. . ?"

> "I'm more worried about him being a peeping tom-- OW!!"

(i)> You elbowed your "twin" for his unruly remark. Back to looking at the doll, you notice your patchwork was still there, though he was once again torn apart. You feel bad for it once more.

> "He needs another patch job. Why is it always him. . ?"

> "Hell if I know, or care. We should toss him in the trash."

> "No!"

(i) > You defensively hug the torn doll, seeing your "twin" glare before sighing. He waves you off before moving to watch television on the couch. With him preoccupied, you move to the table.

(i) > Once again, you reopen the old patch wound with gentle precision. You're not sure of using the same stuffing again, so this time you opt in for cotton balls! Easy to replace that lost stuffing from prior massacres'.

(i) > You are delicate in your work, your primary focus of making sure the larger tears are dealt with first, then it as off to the smaller cuts. The only problem now was the red ink staining the poor doll. You reckon throwing it in the washer and dryer would be a nightmare for it.

> "Maybe. . ."

(i) > Moving your work to the bathroom, you filter through the medicine cabinet once more, finding rubbing alcohol and more cotton balls. Tender hands wipe away whatever ink is present, though it still leaves a bit of a red stain.

> "Sorry. . . It's all I can really do. . ."

> ". . . You look kind of adorable with stubble like that."

> ". . ."

(i) > You're so glad your "twin" wasn't with you, but the second-hand embarrassment you had just now made you keep the doll close to your chest. You hate how your face burns with such fleeting emotions.

> "I'll try to keep you safe, alright? Bryce?"

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ protag: replies

[the-elevator-twins]

>[Something in Neil's mind is prompting him to place the rat in the box with the doll. The voices continue to praise him.]

>(Apologies for the short response. I just do not know how to progress at this very moment. RIP ratto.)

(î) > Alone once again. You scratch the itch on your neck as you put the rat in the box with the doll. Maybe something whimsical will happen in that very moment, it might bring the unnamed rat back to life. . .

(î) > Who are you kidding at this point? You've already placed your bet, nothing good like that was bound to happen. Making sure the box was sealed, you put a dish towel over it before moving to the bathroom door. Three knocks make the voice from inside muffled quietly.

> "Stay away. . ! Y-You already killed one of them!!"> "Nigel, I'm not going to hurt our own rats. Besides, it was bound to get that way."> "That's still not an excuse to kill it like that!!"

(î) > Maybe your brother was right, there were other solutions to the problem, but you choose the most natural route. If you had scissors, it would have been quick and messy. Not like it was your preference to begin with. You like seeing your prey squirm.

(î) > Especially tall blonde ones with no spine to them.

> "Look, we can talk. I wont hurt our rats, and the doll isn't doing anything for now. The rat is gone, that's all that matters. So please-"

(î) > With the door swinging open, your younger sibling cries on your chest, weakly punching you as an attempt to reduce stress. You recall this habit, how the incident would have scarred you like it has him, but you've grown numb to the sights of blood an anguish.

(î) > No words are exchanged between you two as you comfort your brother, hugging it out as he sobs quietly into your chest. You opt to take off his glasses once he grows tired, letting him snooze on your chest as you stroke his hair gently.

(î) > Tomorrow will be a better day.

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ protag: replies #// ✂️ antag: replies #// you made me merc my fucking RAT!!! IN SHAMBLES!!!! /lh