Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Rusted Clockworks ❯ Rusted Clockworks ( One-Shot )

Rusted Clockworks

By: Crow Shinigami

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I do not own Weiß Kruez, and it scares me that I even wrote this. Enjoy.

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How many people could really understand the great pleasure one can elicit from the most mind-blowing pain? People see me cut myself and find me psychotic, but I am only doing to the outside, what they are doing to the inside. The non victims, the beautiful Christians who sit in their places of power and dictate me, a person not of their perception, because they think they know all by being at the right side of God.

I hope it feels good, cross in your left hand and God in your right.

That God that you cannot prove sits above us. From start to finish, the bible dances in my mind, those thin papers bound together with leather, typed by man to distribute to the common people, in hopes that the readers will become so enthralled they'll join prayer circles and ask their beloved Jesus to protect them from the evils of the world.

Hypocritical.

They are the evils. They sit and listen to their preachers in church and then go and commit adultery and other acts against their God, but they are in church the next time the doors are open and are forgiven. What is the difference between what they did and what I do? Doesn't your God say all sins are equal? Why do people go to jail for murder, and pedophiles can repent in church and be ok. Where is there a difference?

All the evils in this world, the victims, we are all the same, are we not? There are no innocents; we are all victims and evils. And people are equal, after all, just like our sins. Well, at least we are told. That bible says so much, but it never says the same thing twice. Read it, it will contradict it's own words later on. Believe me, I spent my childhood believing in it. What did I get in return? Death. My family, gone.

I am a victim, and I plan on showing God the pain he forces on us. Like a strict lover, a sadistic lover, he pushes us down and fucks us at every chance. I wonder how he would like it if we got together and took turns fucking him the way he does us.

I kill his followers, I taste them, and I know them.

Yes, in tasting their blood, or even just their flesh, you can tell much about a person. The way they taste, the salts in the flesh. No two people taste the same.

That is my ecstasy, the taste of flesh. More alluring than any amount of fucks Crawford could get from his German fuck toy. No matter how tantalizing those husky cries are at the peek of the night, I'll place any wager that his flesh is more exciting than any sexual pleasures the nymphomaniac assassin could offer.

And the sweet nectar of blood that would spill from the bites I could place on his flesh, anything to prove his sex is child's play to his taste.

And this emotion love. Love makes the holy father above happy, for when we express love that means he gets to fuck us again. Love is a sickening joke that people partake in readily, without thinking of their own despondent fate. And then it happens; God pulls their pants down and fucks them

Enthralling, to watch so many people carelessly give into others and moan words of endearment as their partner screws them, and at the same time, as God fucks them. I sit back and watch all those people who believe in love and the power it holds. If love was so powerful, then why is that brat Fujimiya still visiting that girl in the hospital? If love is such a strong force, then why is she still in that coma?

God holds no dominion over us unless we let him.

I have never let a soul hold dominion over me; I am here to tell the people of the evils, of God. I am here to direct their attentions to the truth, that only true surrender to the end of life is the way. When no life exists, that is the perfection they grasp for and fail to touch.

Carelessly, we walk into the days of new, fighting with our minds. We try to say that God is above, but even the preacher wavers. And I smile and think about what his flesh tastes like. Couldn't you imagine it, pounding into someone as you bite a hole into their throat to taste the blood and flesh together? I must remember to try that on Crawford's German fuck doll. It should be enticing.

People claim that I am void of basic human emotion, they may be right. Or they may be terribly wrong. I am filled with heightened emotions, emotions that would drive others to the brinks of madness and pull them back with the force that only certain specials could handle. My emotions are too complex, that is why no one else can understand my taste for the forbidden

Catholic skin is always nice. I must remember to make a pair of Catholic Girl skin boots. It should be interesting, to wear the skin of God's children. God's children… if that were so, then why are we not Angels? Why have we never seen our holier-than-thou father? Because he is not there.

And what of our behaviors? That man I so despise sits and tells us that we are not to do so much, and tells us little of what we can. If he had any power, wouldn't he stop us from doing those things deemed wrong by him and only allow us to do right? Does he expect us to follow a rulebook that has been, on numerous occasions, used as rolling paper when the delinquent pot-smoking children ran out of the ones they bought earlier that week? He has no power.

We are told that what we do is wrong, if it is so wrong, then why can we do it? If it makes God happy to see us smile, then why do we have the ability to frown? To learn? To earn out place in heaven? Why does he give his child Lucifer a fighting chance? He is weak, and easily over thrown. All the people need is a good kick in the right direction, and I am here to deliver that kick.

God, a contradictory.

I hope it feels good, young Christians.

I hope it feels good to have God's cock in you all the way to the hilt.

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*Disturbed look* Yep. I wrote that. There is no mistaking. Some of those are my own personal view. Yes, I wrote it… weird…