#index entry

[noisytenant]

so was anyone gonna tell me the mad scientist guy in wordgirl used to be her trusted friend and mentor who was studying her until an accident gave him science DID or did i just have to stumble into that knowledge myself.

[coquelicoq]

does anybody else say "hay is for horses, cows, and sheep. too bad you're a jackass" when someone yells "hey!" at them or is that another thing my dad made up

[satoshi-mochida]

Yen Press announced the following new titles at its Anime NYC panel on Saturday:

Manga:

Sword Art Online: Progressive Scherzo of Deep Night

Story by Reki Kawahara Art by Puyocha Character Design by abec Publisher's description: Nearly two months have passed since Kirito and Asuna found themselves trapped in the world of Aincrad. Now, they're making their way through the ruins-themed fifth floor, where all sorts of undead monsters—and player-killers—lurk in the shadows! The story of Sword Art Online continues in this brand-new series!

Yokohama Station SF

Story by Yuba Isukari Art by Gonbe Shinkawa Character Design by Tatsuyuki Tanaka Publisher's description: All Hiroto has ever known is a life on a tiny coastal speck of Japan. Much of the country has been swallowed by Yokohama Station, a mysterious, ever-growing series of buildings that's been around for as long as anyone can remember. The few who live outside its many entrances have never seen Inside and know only rumors and legends of the station's interior. That all changes when Hiroto is given an 18 Ticket, a mysterious item that lets him enter the massive complex for five days. The young man has always sought a purpose, but the one he finds may not be the sort he'd hoped for... Yen Press also licensed the original novel series.

Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? Memoria Freese

Original Story by Fujino Ōmori Art by Yū Shiomura Original Concept by Danmachi4 Project Publisher's description: Hestia Familia is back in an all-new adventure! All is quiet as Bell, Haruhime, Hestia, and friends celebrate the Holy Night Festival, but when a Familia from another land comes along, all hell breaks loose! What's more, Hestia's getting jealous again, which spells serious trouble for Bell...

Handyman Saitō in Another World

By Ichitomo Kazutomo Publisher's description: Handyman Saito has never been anyone special. All his life, he's had average grades, ordinary athletic skill, a commonplace job... But his unremarkable path takes a turn when he wakes up in another world. Here, warriors, wizards, and elves accompany him on quests delving deep into dungeons, and Saito realizes for the first time what it's like to be needed. After all, who other than the handyman could be trusted to open locked treasure chests or to repair his allies' equipment? Beginning with a simple “thank you,” this is the story of an ordinary person's fulfilling life.

A Reincarnated Witch Spells Doom

Story by Tail Yuzuhara Art by Sora Publisher's description: On her eighteenth birthday, shut-in Sena Shirai gathers her resolve and steps out into the world for the first time in a long while—only to be hit by a truck! Reborn as a witch in another world, she is able to master only two spells: Explosion and Destruction. With the nearby villagers fearful of her powers, she resigns herself to an isolated life once more...that is, until a mysterious boy collapses on her doorstep!

Appare-Ranman!

By Antonsiku Publisher's description: The time is the nineteenth century. Eccentric mechanic boy Appare Sorano sets off on an adventure along with his samurai minder, Kosame Isshiki, only to be cast adrift on the Pacific Ocean. A passing steamship rescues them...and delivers the two not back to familiar Japan but to the far-flung land of America! Trapped in Los Angeles with no easy way to return home, the pair decide to enter the world's first trans-American automobile race. However, with vast sums of money hinging on the dangerous event's outcome, they may find the odds are stacked against them...

I Want to Be a Receptionist in This Magical World

Story by MAKO Art by Yone Character Design by Maro Publisher's description: Ever since she was little, Nunnally has always wanted to be one of the graceful, capable receptionists of the Hall. As only top-rate mages are accepted to the position, she enrolls in the kingdom's magic academy to hone her skills, but she feels out of place amid a classroom of nobles—including a genuine prince. She decides that despite being a commoner, she's going to be the top of her class...but for some reason she just can't beat the one person she'd most like to—the snobbish boy in the seat next to her, Alweiss Rockman...!

Magical Girl Incident

By Zero Akabane Publisher's description: As a little boy, Sakura Hiromi once dreamed he could be a hero. Now...he's simply your everyday office worker, toiling away for his company. Though he longs for his childhood dream, it seems so far out of reach—until he decides to step up and save a child one fateful day. Suddenly, fantasies become reality as Hiromi finds himself transformed into...a magical girl?!

Manner of Death

Story by Yukari Umemoto Art by Sammon Publisher's description: When the skilled coroner Dr. Bunnakit is called to examine the body of his childhood friend after her “suicide,” he soon determines that she was actually murdered. That night, a mysterious stranger threatens him, telling him to rule her death a suicide—and after he confides in his prosecutor friend about this incident, that friend suddenly goes missing. But all hope is not lost, as a young lecturer named Tan offers to help him get to the bottom of all this, which would be more reassuring if Tan weren't the prime suspect...

What This World Is Made Of

By Shin Yamamoto Publisher's description: After losing everything, the Nakata brothers find a mysterious app that offers a chance to make large sums of money. But are they ready for the danger they must now face, the deadly monsters known as WORLDs...?

Me and My Beast Boss

By Shiroinu Publisher's description: In a world where beastfolk are thought to be superior to humans, human office worker Saki Oki struggles to remain afloat in a company where she is belittled and tormented by her beastfolk colleagues and superiors. And so, when she is called into the CEO's office, she's prepared for the worst—but instead of firing Saki, he acknowledges her hard work and makes her his private secretary! She's delighted by his praise...but could that really be the only reason her heart is racing so fast?

My Dear Curse-Casting Vampiress

By Chisaki Kanai Publisher's description: The world is full of vampires. Supernatural creatures who drain the blood from humans without mercy—fighting such beings is the foundation of Isuzu Osaka's life. But humanity is losing the war, and desperate times call for desperate measures... And so, Isuzu sets out to strike a deal with a powerful vampiress whose beauty drives all who gaze upon her insane in the hopes of protecting his friends...

The Essence of Being a Muse

By Aya Fumino Publisher's description: Somebody fill my emptiness. The day I was rejected from art school, everything that was “special” about me died. That's why I have no choice. Since I'm back to being “ordinary,” I'll go to the job my mom decided on, while wearing the clothes she picked for me, so that I can find what my mom calls “happiness” alongside somebody she can boast about, trapped in a never-ending cycle of “what if?” and “too bad” all the while.

The Ephemeral Scenes of Setsuna's Journey

By Rokusyou • Usuawagi Publisher's description: The story of a young man who has inherited the life of his dear friend and a half- beast boy on a journey following the path of the teacher. Sugimoto Setsuna is summoned to another world as the 68th hero, but he's been given up on because of his weak and sickly constitution. However, he meets Kyle, the original hero who has been living for 2,500 years, and ends up inheriting his knowledge, power, and life force... He begins the life he wasn't able to live before and starts a journey around the world, when he comes across an enslaved half- beast boy. Their lively adventure starts here!

Higurashi: When They Cry: GOU

Story by Ryukishi07 Art by Tomato Akase Publisher's description: Another year, another death, another disappearance...will this year be the same? Newcomer Keiichi Maebara has long grown accustomed to the rhythm of his simple life in Hinamizawa. But when Keiichi stumbles upon a few old newspapers at a dump site, he quickly realizes the peaceful village and his beloved friends are hiding a deadly secret... Is the tragedy of the summer of 1983 doomed to repeat forevermore...?! New fragments and new mysteries await—from the creators of Higurashi and Tomato Akase, the brand-new sequel series to Higurashi: When They Cry!!

Elden Ring: The Road to the Erdtree

Original Concept by FromSoftware, Inc. Art by Nikiichi Tobita Publisher's description: The epic and foreboding world of the hit video game Elden Ring gets turned on its head in this absurd comedy adventure! Follow Aseo the Tarnished as he struggles his way through the Lands Between. What he lacks in strength, speed, intelligence, charisma, skill, experience, intuition, and common sense, he makes up for in...uhhh...

Light Novels:

Even If These Tears Disappear Tonight

By Misaki Ichijo Publisher's description: College student Tooru Naruse falls in love with his upperclassmen Izumi Wataya, and she accepts his confession on the condition that he cannot fall in love with her. Their fake relationship begins, but Tooru soon discovers that Izumi cannot forget her love from high school. Hoping to learn who that person was, he seeks out her best friend, Maori Hino. Follow characters from Even If This Love Disappears Tonight in this sequel about another heart-wrenching tale of first love.

How to Win Her Heart on the Nth Try

By Ichine Kamijo Publisher's description: Nagi Yoroizuka, a 27-year-old system engineer at a software development company, is facing down her thirties with no sign of romance. She works hard at her job, but things never seem to go her way. Then, just when a series of mishaps leaves her at her lowest point yet, a childhood friend reappears to offer her a hand. Not only is this genius engineer warmhearted and good-looking, but he gets along great with her! The problem: She's only ever seen him as a friend, while he's been hiding his feelings for her their whole lives. But even if she's willing to give him a chance, will trauma from her past prove too much to overcome?

Maiden of the Needle

Story by Zeroki Illustrated by Miho Takeoka Publisher's description: Yui was reincarnated into a noble family in another world, retaining her memories of her life in Japan. During her childhood, she befriended the fairies she could see around her by using her magic to help mend their clothes; unfortunately, Yui's relative lack of skill in blessweaving—the art of enchanting physical fabric through needlework—ultimately results in her being disowned. However, when she is taken in by Rodin Calostira, another nobleman, her luck begins to change...

My Summoned Beast Is Dead

Story by Rakuzan Illustrated by Miyuu Publisher's description: In a magical academy for summoners, students combine impressive stores of magical energy with artful incantations to usher legends, great and small, onto the battlefield. To say late bloomer Feil Fonaf has had a rough come-up is nothing short of an understatement, but he's here to prove he deserves his place at the academy as much as anyone else! And as luck would have it, his counterpart summon winds up being the legendary beast of the last realm, Pandora! There's just one problem...

Associate Professor Akira Takatsuki's Conjecture

By Mikage Sawamura Publisher's description: Naoya Fukamachi is a university student whose ability to infallibly detect lies has left him friendless and isolated. But when he writes a paper about a strange festival he wandered into as a child, he catches the fancy of his folklore studies professor Akira Takatsuki, a handsome and eccentric man with a passion for all things mysterious. Soon, Naoya finds himself working as Akira's assistant, helping him to interpret an array of unexplainable phenomena, from haunted objects and cursed effigies to urban legends. As this odd couple continues their investigations, however, Naoya realizes that his professor has had a few bizarre childhood experiences of his own...

Yami-hara

By Mizuki Tsujimura Publisher's description: "When they come, someone dies...” After a quiet boy named Kaname joins the class, Mio reaches out to him, hoping to help the odd boy settle into his new environment. Kaname takes to her a little too well, however, asking to come to her house and then showing up all the time. Frightened, Mio seeks help from an upperclassman she admires...but the nameless wickedness is already coming. It's close. It's growing. A horror-mystery novel by famed author Mizuki Tsujimura.

Sketch Collection:

Scribbles By Kaoru Mori Publisher's description: A collection of sketches from Kaoru Mori, the creator of hit historical manga Emma and A Bride's Story! Packed with illustrations done for practice as well as for relaxation, this compilation features commentary on every page and the roots of all her work are laid out.

Manhwa:

Bloody Sweet

By Narae Lee Publisher's description: One eerie night, in an old, abandoned church, a girl accidentally breaks the seal of an ancient vampire who...starts following her around like a hyper little puppy! It may not be your typical vampire story, but for Naerim, a victim of school bullying, Vlad's manic energy might be just what she needs to regain her smile!

Manga With New Edition:

Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun: First Stall (Box Set)

By AidaIro Publisher's description: A beautiful collection of the first ten volumes of Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun, featuring everything from the very beginnings of the series to the big twist of the fan-favorite Picture Perfect arc. If you just can't hold it in anymore—“it” being your excitement—getting your hands on this box set is the only way you can find sweet relief!

Puella Magi Suzune Magica: The Complete Omnibus Edition

By Magica Quartet Art by GAN Publisher's description: Read this defiant story set in the world of Madoka Magica in one complete omnibus! Suzune Amano lives an extraordinarily normal life as a middle school student by day and...magical-girl assassin by night?! When a group of four magical girls begins investigating the serial murders in their city, they soon find themselves Suzune's next targets! But what motivates Suzune to hunt both witches and magical girls alike?

Light Novels With New Edition:

A Certain Magical Index: The Old Testament Omnibus Edition

Story by Kazuma Kamachi Illustrated by Kiyotaka Haimura Publisher's description: Science and magic have come together once again to create this never-before- seen folio of A Certain Magical Index! The arcane pages of the Old Testament Omnibus Edition detail the collected adventures of Touma Kamijou in a stunning synthesis of paper and metal that any aspiring sorcerer or esper will covet. Including all twenty-two volumes of the original series as well as the two short story volumes, this grimoire cannot be ignored by those who want to complete their own collection of forbidden magical books!

Ize Press, a newly formed Korean-content imprint from Yen Press that already published Villains Are Destined to Die and The World After the Fall, also announced that it will publish in print the following Korean webcomics:

The Horizon

By JH A world where everything has been lost. A boy and a girl alone together. A spark of hope kindled between them. All they can do is move forward. But against broken adults and devastating despair, how long will they be able to keep going...? Find out in this poignant tale from JH, author of the acclaimed Korean comic The Boxer.

A Business Proposal

Story by Guava Farm and Perilla Art by NARAK Original Story by Haehwa After being worked to the bone at her office job, getting introduced to her longtime crush's new girlfriend, and dealing with her family's debt hanging over her head, Hari Shin's life seems to have hit rock bottom. Luckily, her friend Youngseo has a business proposal for her: go to an arranged date in her stead and Hari will receive a hefty compensation. Things grow complicated, however, when it turns out that the other party is Hari's new CEO—and he's dead set on marrying whoever shows up to the date!

[aroguexenolith]

I am not fervent enough for fandom discords, but I do have strong opinions on cotton sheets and leather care and easy but really yummy meals to make. So, uh, is there a discord somewhere for millennials doing boring adult stuff where we can talk about 401k rollovers and if they have a specific brand of mattress pad they like?

[galacticlamps]

Jamie's been adjusting well to his life on the Tardis so far, but when it brings him and his friends to a market town on an alien planet, he's still eager to stick close to the Doctor. Although he isn't particularly interested in shopping, Jamie enjoys himself all the same, until he stumbles upon a sudden discovery about himself, the Doctor, and the future that might be waiting for them - leaving them with a choice to make.

[eosphorusss]

my father is a very kind and clever man. unfortunately most of his energy is dedicated to maximizing inefficiency

[shcherbatskya]

the hero of yesterday becomes the tyrant of tomorrow, unless he crucifies himself today………

[rockleaves]

forgot how much i enjoy getting a new academic book and immediately flipping to the back to judge it by the index. like oh the domostroi gets its own entry in the index but the domovoi does not? the pages it’s mentioned on are listed under “demons; house” even though it’s not a demon? and that list of pages also includes the ones that mention of the kikimora, which DOES also get its own separate index entry, even though the domovoi is mentioned more often? okay. interesting.

[riteofparting]

―  Anaïs Nin, in Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin (1939–1947).

[suppermariobroth]

In New Super Mario Bros., each power-up has a specific index that picks the effects of the power-up from a list. While there are only few different power-ups, the list itself accepts entry numbers up to 256, the vast majority of which result in unintended effects.

Most power-ups that use unintended entries are some variety of what is shown in the footage: an effect that discolors Mario and causes him to grow uncontrollably, similar to the beginning of the Mega Mushroom animation. However, instead of stopping when Mario is a specific size, he will simply keep growing indefinitely until the game crashes.

Main Blog | Twitter | Patreon | Small Findings | Source: YouTube user "Skawo"

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 8

Word Count ~ 4.6k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ sexual content, slight breeding kink, body horror, minor violence

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You always have to be extra careful when one of the Sverchzt sisters is asking to enter the building.

Twins, and both of them nearly identical, save for the location of the mole on the cheek: on the right for Selenne, the left for Elenois. Both employed as models, with the same hourglass figures, full, painted lips, long lashes, and breathy voices accented with something exotically European sounding. You always feel very plain and lacking around them; it was like being back in school again as the shy, unpopular girl, envying the pretty cheerleaders that seemed to have it all.

But you don’t feel inadequate today, still buoyed up from your feelings of being with Francis’ doppelgänger all weekend. You look over the identification card and entry request, finding everything in order. The elegant woman is on the day’s list of expected entrants, too. You’re nearly ready to hit the switch to grant her access into the apartments, still reminiscing about your fiancé, when something in you, some sixth sense kicking in, cautions you that you should probably call the apartment, just to be certain. There is nothing visually you can identify that is incorrect about the haughty woman on the opposite side of the glass, who is now folding her arms across her ample chest, the polished nail of an index finger tapping against the porcelain skin of one slender forearm. An impatient gesture you’ve seen Selenne make before, dozens of times. Nothing suspicious about the documents, either. But still, you feel it is better to be safe than sorry.

You already know all the residents’ phone numbers by heart now, the quick four digit extensions granting you rapid access.

“Hello. Elenois speaking. My sister and I are both at home today. We are not expecting any visitors.”

“Thank you.” You keep your expression calm, hurriedly flipping the plastic shield down and depressing the button to sound the alarm, catching one last glimpse of the doppelgänger, the crimson polished nails now scratching at the glass pane, the eyes with the lids shadowed in lavender streaked and bloodshot, the plush lips parting to expose yellow fangs dripping spittle before the shutters finish descending. You phone the disposal team, still maintaining your composure.

Close. That had been too close. You had to concentrate. Focus.

The day progresses and you find yourself getting back into the rhythm of things. Wondering how your pretender beau had decided which members of his squadron to sacrifice, sending them to the building to meet their doom to throw the DDD off the trail. What would happen when the numbers dwindled, when there were none left to send? Did the faded mark he’d left behind still shield you? Or did it only make you more desireable, like what had happened with the replicant who looked like Izaack Gauss?

You’re picking at the peeling varnish of the battered desk during the afternoon lull when someone walks into the building and your heart stops.

Francis.

Not the original, and not your doppel, either. This one is nearly a dead ringer, except for the nose that’s not quite right, the tip slightly larger, the nostrils a little more flared.

It had never occurred to you that there would still be other versions of the milkman walking around. Where has he been all this time?

“Mmm…hello.” The customary greeting the genuine version had always adopted. He slides an ID card through the slot.

“Entry request?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot. Here it is.” The smile breaks your heart. His smile. Only not.

You stare at the document for long moments. Everything looks correct: the document expiration date present and set for the future; the serial number identical to what you have on file; the logo of your organization in plain sight; the stated reason for the alleged milkman’s absence logical. All of the elements appear as they should, save for that slightly mismatched nose in the photograph and entry request.

“Is there a problem?”

Your eyes lift to meet his. Why are you drawing this out?

“Your appearance,” you answer distractedly.

“Yes? What about it? Doesn’t it match the picture?”

You shake your head, reaching for the alarm button. “I’m sorry.” It’s foolish, being this sentimental. No reason for it. You know the real Francis is gone. You know it’s not the invader you’ve fallen for.

Alarm blossoms on the fake milkman’s features. His hands clasp together. “Wait, please…I’ll leave. Just…I don’t want to die.”

You freeze. This was new. The doppels always reacted with anger when their cover was blown. You’ve never had one beg for their life before.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Was it true? Were there others that were willing to coexist peacefully? Had you incorrectly assumed they all sought the same goal, replacing humans and ruling over the planet, the one remarkable exception being your lover?

Or was this just a new tactic that they’d adopted, evolving, learning, adapting better to human weaknesses?

You had no way of knowing which it was.

“I can’t,” you say. “I’m sorry.” You slam your fist against the alarm switch before the replicant tries to escape, that same soft, pleading look haunting you as the shutter descends. The cleaners arrive and you cover your ears with your hands. You don’t want to listen to it. You can’t.

There are tears in your eyes when the figure in the yellow hazmat suit declares you are now able to return to your job.

***

The replicant milkman—yours, you note with relief—arrives later that afternoon, hastily adjusting the cap on his head, offering a brief glimpse of the perspiration from the heat outdoors lining his brow, his tousled brown locks damp, plastered against his forehead. He’s already smiling before he’s even reached the window, hurriedly thrusting his document and ID card through the slot, and something else, something that sounds metallic against the shallow stainless opening at the bottom of the window.

You reach for it, realizing what it is the second your fingers close over the object: your engagement ring.

The DDD had ceased its surveillance of the security booth, the resources and manpower needed elsewhere, apparently, so their is no longer the camera or the person watching it to worry about. You stare at the solitaire diamond, at the pretty filigree decorating the band on either side of it, and the tears that had been threatening to spill earlier come pouring out of you, a messy amalgamation of guilt and fear and relief releasing in that sudden cascade.

“Sweetheart, you like it that much? I’m so glad, I wasn’t sure…” His voice trails off. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

You shake your head, absently hitting the buzzer to let him in, then hitting its partner to shut the door behind him.

The door to the security booth opens. “Oh, Francis.” You throw your arms around his neck, burrowing along his shirt collar while he rubs soothing circles on your back.

“What is it, love?”

“I’ve had such a terrible day. I almost let in a doppel by mistake this morning, and just a little while ago there was a doppel that looked like Francis.”

“Sweet girl.” His arms tighten around you.

“He begged for his life, Francis. I’ve never seen that before. It was so difficult to call the team. But I had to. I had to do it. I didn’t know if he really meant he wouldn’t harm anyone, or if he was lying. I couldn’t risk him hurting the residents inside.”

“Of course you did, love.”

“How many copies of him are there? Just roaming around the city?”

“I don’t know. But it wasn’t Francis and it wasn’t me. They were just trying to trick you, and you didn’t fall for it. You did the right thing. I know it was difficult for you. I know why, love. I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

You remain in his arms, letting the comfort he’s offering seep into you. He does understand, better than anyone else ever could. After a time you draw back, sniffling. The ring is still clutched tightly in your fist. You relax your palm, spreading your fingers so you can admire the piece of jewelry again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. It’s lovely, Francis. Perfect.”

The imposter smoothes the last of the tears away and kneels down, gently plucking the ring from your right hand, then reaches for your left one, sliding the diamond band onto your ring finger and kissing the back of your hand.

The sound of a throat being cleared at the window interrupts the moment. You jump, startled. It’s the pilot.

“Dropping off more paperwork, doll?” Steven Rudboys grins, sliding his card and request form towards you.

You blush, aware of your fiancé rising to his feet beside you, frowning. Of course he doesn’t understand the reference, from that day when you’d visited the doppel so early on, when he’d slipped you the invitation to come to the apartment.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” the man with the Mohawk says, his eyes lingering on the ring. “I always knew you two would end up together. Took you long enough, Mosses,” he adds, shooting the imposter milkman a sharp glance. “Don’t know what Afton and Stone are waiting for. I thought for sure they would’ve set a date by now. Bet you two don’t wait that long to tie the knot.”

Your cheeks are scarlet, your eyes focused on the documents, checking the day’s schedule. On the day’s list. A quick phone call just to confirm what you already know, allowing the man to enter the apartments once you’ve spoken to his father, heaving a sigh of relief when he’s finally gone from sight.

“I don’t like him,” the pretender says, his voice nearly a growl. “I don’t think Francis ever did, either. Too intrusive.” He turns his attention back to you. “Maybe not the best timing for the ring,” he observes ruefully.

“I’m sorry. I love it. Truly. It’s just been a very hectic, stressful day.”

“Don’t apologize. You have every right to be feeling that way. I think…I hope…I can help with that. Come see me as soon as you get off shift, okay? And be careful. If you need me, call.”

You nod, kissing him before he exits the booth and heads towards the elevator. You stretch your hand out, turning it slightly, watching how the light plays over the facets. It was official. You were engaged. You doubted it would take long for the rumor mill of the apartment building to circulate the news. Poor Francis. He’d be bombarded with well wishers and busybodies. Rudboys was probably going to keep at him mercilessly.

The rest of your shift passes by blessedly uneventfully. It is nearly time for your workday to end. Time to return to your lover waiting for you upstairs, the doppel you’re betrothed to.

***

You tap your knuckles on the door of apartment 3-02, greeted by the copy of the living space’s former owner.

He’s shed the troublesome cap, the ebony bow unknotted and draped around his neck, the first pair of buttons on his shirt undone. He smiles at you. “Hello, future Mrs. Mosses.”

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Do you have proper identification?”

“I seem to have forgotten it.”

He clucks his tongue. “Then I can’t let you in, I’m afraid.”

“Do you accept bribes?”

His lips twitch. “Maybe.” The opening widens. “Come in here.”

You enter and the door closes behind you. “That was easy. I don’t think you’d make a good doorman,” you tease.

“No, but I make up for it elsewhere, don’t I?” He murmurs and you hum in agreement as he slides a hand around your waist, dragging you against him. “It’s torture being away from you. To go from having the weekend together to this long absence all day…” His lips touch yours, traveling to your neck.

“I know. I thought about you all day long.” Your hand rests on his chest. He covers it with his own, toying with the ring on your finger. A little room to move the band, but still secure around the digit. You didn’t wear jewelry often, but the size you’d told him had been the correct one. “I love it, Francis.”

“I’m glad.” Another kiss on your mouth. “I’m hungry for you, love.”

You feel it in his kisses. No longer gentle. Tongue stroking yours roughly. Teeth nipping. You cross the hallway to the bedroom with your fiancé. Unfastening clothing. Yours. His. Impatient to be naked. A button tears from your blouse. “I’ll mend it later,” you say distractedly.

Your back is tucked against his chest, the pair of you standing before the dresser mirror. Your breathing is loud, nearly as loud as his. You would have been mortified to be making so much noise even a month ago. But you have no reason to hide it now. You’re engaged. No one on this floor was going to pretend they didn’t know what goes on with young couples behind closed doors. You’ve heard Afton and Stone going at it before. Not nearly as often or as loud as you and your doppel, though.

You’re about to bend to slide your thigh high nylons off but the copycat halts you, his hand clasping yours above the scalloped lace edge that clings to your leg.

“Leave them on for me? I like them.” He snaps a garter belt playfully, dragging a hand over your lace panties. Something else that was new. You normally wore sensible undergarments beneath your work clothes. But now you had someone to admire what clung to your intimate places. He caresses the space between your legs through the delicate fabric, dragging his hand up to begin massaging your breasts encased in a matching brassiere. “Gorgeous. So beautiful, love.” His mouth worries along your shoulder.

“Are you going to mark me again?”

A pause, his hands and lips freezing. “Do you want me to?”

The low pitch of his voice drags across your core. You’re still frightened of it. But you want it, all the same. You want this creature to claim you. “Yes. Do you?”

The doppelgänger’s lips are by your ear. “Yes, love. But you shouldn’t watch…”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. “I want to. I want to see you…”

“Sweetheart…” Hesitant. Perhaps more afraid than you are. To be seen. Exposed. To let the monster off the leash, as it were. Allowing the demon within out to play.

“I trust you.”

He moans softly against your hair. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain?”

“I love you.”

A whimper. The thing inside anxious to be let out, scratching and gnawing at the bars of its enclosure, that barrier of human flesh that had once belonged to Francis Mosses. Nails raking across your abdomen. Not enough to puncture the skin, still careful, the barest scrape of the unsheathed claws you can just see emerging now. Tearing at the fabric covering your sex, the material fraying, the embroidered threads coming loose. The crown of chocolate hair lifts and you see his eyes: the doppel’s eyes, peering at your from behind Francis’ sleepy dark ones. Red like blood, like the vessels that burst in surrender, like the lining of those shadowed lower lids. The white sclera of the orbs iridescent, shimmery, identical to the outline of the alien creature clutching you, an unsteady shift in the very particles and atoms that comprise him, things unseen, things not meant to be viewed by a mortal eye. The neat ivory teeth no longer tame incisors and molars, but transformed, sharp like the cuspids of a vampire, ravenous, the drool dripping from them onto your skin.

It is still not what he truly is; that monster well concealed, struggling to maintain control in this tenuous bridged state, not quite one or the other, partly human, partly doppel. What remains of your panties are shoved down, his leaking cock pressing against the curve of one cheek of your buttocks. He pushes against you and you grasp the edge of the dresser, the stained and varnished wood supporting you at a slight angle as he guides his erection inside of you.

Your body is already gushing arousal, welcoming him in. You catch sight of your heaving chest in the mirror, your lingerie encased breasts lifting and straining to burst free, much like the replicant thrusting into you.

He says your name, and it is not Francis’ voice at all. This a summons from deep within, heavy, full of gravel, dragging across your flesh like sandpaper. The wavering, mirage-like border of his pulsing frame feels hot, sticky. Your lashes flutter. The bottles of cologne lining the dresser’s surface tumble down. So deep. He’s so deep inside of you. Shoved in to the hilt each time. And still you want him even further. Impossible. But you crave it. That complete violation. Was this what it felt like to be taken over? You’d imagined it to be painful, terrifying. Instead it was sheer bliss. Your eyes link with his through the oval shaped looking glass once more.

“More, please, Francis…”

He jerks you away from the dresser, still impaled on his cock. Here is the pain you’d anticipated, that searing kiss of teeth piercing your shoulder, sucking the skin over the bone, a burst of stars in front of your eyes, fireworks ricocheting within you as you come undone, your insides splashed with something molten, soaked with your lover’s release. Wet skin, wet pussy, drenched prick, sweat and cum and that thin trail of blood seeping from the wound he’s created, laving rapturously at the taste of you, that very human taste in his very inhuman mouth.

His body shudders against yours. Aftershocks, not from orgasm but the shift back to how he appeared before, the glow dissipating, eyes cleared and gentling, the sharp hooks tipping each finger a replica of Francis’ blunt edged nails once more. Only a few red welts betray those nightmare claws’ existence, where he had become a little too lost in the passion, tattooing the soft flesh of your abdomen. The door to the invader’s cage is sealed shut once again. You hold him upright as much as he holds you steady, slipping free from your entrance, the hot spill of seed leaking down your thighs, seeping into the stockings. You can feel the tremors still spasming, your own nerves quivering with the remnants of pleasure, echoing against you as your lover’s body shares the same sensation. The panting breaths grow quieter. The sound of the Rudboys’ television next door disturbs the stillness. You’d completely missed the audio cue of the curfew horn.

“Sweet girl.” It’s all he can seem to manage, this whispered into your hair. It’s the milkman’s voice again, but it sounds raw, raspy. The vocal chords had been strained, never meant to produce the sounds they had earlier.

You rest your hand on the one clutching your abdomen, the glint of your engagement ring winking, a stubborn sparkle in the glow of the lamp, struggling against the growing darkness in the room as the day’s natural light fails beyond the curtained window.

***

The blackberry jam, pulled from the refrigerator several hours later, is perfect.

Perhaps one of the best batches you’ve ever tasted. You’ve snuck a sample from the unsealed mason jar, unable to wait. You’re already imagining how good that flavor will be when it’s smoothed over the biscuits you’re making with your doppelgänger, his fingers kneading the dough mixture you’ve just created. There is a stray bit of flour dusting his nose where he’d absently stroked an itch along the bridge and you wipe it clear, the touch becoming a lingering caress. He pauses, fingers still dug into the dough, looking at you with that same kind of wonder as he had earlier, after the incident in the bedroom.

As if he cannot believe what you’d asked for, accepted so willingly, eagerly; of the control over his true form he’d been able to maintain, keeping you safe.

Pats of butter melt quickly on the sliced biscuits pulled from the oven. You’re sweating. You need a shower after this for certain. You slather on a generous layer of the sweet fruit spread, offering a bite to your fiancé. He chews, nodding approvingly. There is a stray bit of jam on the corner of his mouth. You cannot resist lapping at it. Licking his mouth open. Tasting the sweetness there. Marveling at how quickly the desire is rekindled. Perhaps you would never be sated. Always this ache, this gnawing want in your center.

Drenched in the shower together. Back out again. Night sounds through the open window. The measured footsteps of a patrol. Soft chatter. A dog barking. You miss your farmhouse. The crickets and the scent of lilac blossoms and your lover in your bed, on cotton sheets that smell like the outdoors, hung on the line to dry in the clear air.

“Francis,” you murmur, your mouth tracing the outline of the crest of one hip, you hand curled around the other. Tasting the soap on his skin, the slight masculine musk as you wander along his groin, swiping your tongue across his cock.

Your shoulder throbs, pulsing in time with the neediness within. You want it again already. Not just the sex, but the other. A strange kind of addiction developing.

Your pussy aches to be filled again. You suck his erection and moan, hastily tucking your hair out of the way. Ravenous. An animalistic slobber. Lips loose. Shoving down as far as you can tolerate. Past it. Insistent, fucking your throat with his dick.

A little gasp of surprise from the doppel. “Easy, love. Don’t waste it. Want to…”

You release his spit soaked member, planting wet kisses back up his stomach, his chest. Crawling over his body until you reach his mouth. “What do you want, Francis?” Your voice a whisper, matching his.

“Oh love, you know what I want.” This huffed beside your cheek. You’re teasing kisses along his jaw, nipping at an ear lobe.

“Tell me. Tell me how you want to fill me up. With your cock. With your cum. Breed me, make a baby…”

You don’t know where the words come from. Another gasp. A growl. You want to impale yourself on him but it’s not the ideal position for getting pregnant. You allow him to shift, moving your body with his, pinning you beneath him.

“Is that what you want, sweet girl?” His hands press into the pillow beneath your head. There are a proper quartet of them now, piled plush cushions for you and your alien lover.

“Yes. Please, Francis…”

His knee parts your legs. Pressure. He’s inside you.

Your head lifts off the pillow and he captures your lips, pressing you back down. Working inside of you slow and steady, fucking you back open.

“There you go, love.” His mouth gentle on yours.

“I need…”

“What? What do you need?”

Your shoulder is on fire. “I want you to mark me again.”

“No, love. It’s too soon for that.” You feel him shake his head, the faint stir of air beside your cheek with the motion.

“It felt so good.”

“I know.”

“Put the light on, then? Let me see you. Let me see what’s inside…”

“No.” His voice loud now, his hips still against yours. “No, it’s too risky.”

“You can control it. I know you can. I trust you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“So explain it to me.”

“Sweetheart, I can’t. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because why?”

“Because I’m afraid,” he confesses against your neck. “You’ve no idea the strain. The desire to tear free. It would destroy Francis’ body. The urge to devour you…” He kisses your throat softly. “Let me love you like the man I appear to be.”

“I love you. You, what’s inside.” You touch his cheek.

“I know, love. And the way that makes me feel is indescribable. I don’t need to be out of this body to experience it. I adore you, sweet girl. Let me show you how much. Like this,” he says, his hips lifting and pressing, guiding his cock back into your hollow.

Your pelvis arches to receive him. It scares you how much you want him. Your body shakes with the intensity of that desire. Craving that violence, that feeling of teetering on the brink of destruction. His, yours. The human mouth on your shoulder. Sucking. Kneading with teeth that aren’t nearly sharp enough. But it stirs whatever he’s injected you with. A venom, a toxin, not poisonous, not lethal, but a chemical that you need more of. Bringing you closer to what you’re so desperate for. It doesn’t take you long to climax, the doppel’s own release close behind. He lifts your hips and legs, propping them against his chest, keeping his seed deep inside you, stroking along your stomach.

Willing there to be a spark of life there, the way all life has begun, according to the words in the holy book still sitting on the nightstand, a burst of light in the darkness.

***

Another day at the DDD security window.

The doppelgängers have been clumsy so far. Woefully inept at replication. You didn’t need specialized training to recognize the imposter for the shoemaker with a mustache as a fake, a single eye in the center of his forehead making Albertsky Peachman look like a cyclops. The clone of the mother of the student living on the second floor had correctly replicated the placement of the blue and green irises, but the phony Nacha Mikaelys’ jaw was strangely formed, the flesh pulpy and uneven, making it appear like oatmeal.

The best part of your workday arrives on schedule, slipping a new gift into the slot this time. “Tickets to the theater for this Sunday. I know it’s not the movie you mentioned, but…”

You grin. You can’t even remember the last time you’d gone to see a movie. And now you’d be seeing it with your fiancé. “Casablanca! Oh, it’s wonderful. I have something for you, too.” You exchange an open envelope with the doppelgänger.

He slides the contents free, unfolding the letter and scanning it quickly, a smile lighting his features. “They’ve invited us to see them.”

You nod, still beaming, watching the invader tuck the letter from your parents back into the envelope. “We’ll visit the following weekend.”

“I look forward to it. Still nervous, but looking forward to it. How was your day, love?”

“It went well. Yours?”

“Better now.” Another smile. “I’ve got another surprise, too. Left it in the truck because I was anxious to see you. I’m making dinner tonight. Well we’re probably making dinner. I’m not optimistic about Francis’ cooking skills,” he adds, lowering his voice.

You couldn’t blame him for doubting it. The man’s pantry and refrigerator had been nearly empty, and you had the feeling it wasn’t just because he’d been overdue for a trip to get groceries.

Thinking of the solitary, simple life of the milkman rinses the joy from your features. No real family to speak of, either, according to the doppelgänger, save for a cousin that he’d had little to no contact with. He really had been alone in the world. Isolated. You could have done something about that. You should have. But it was too late now. And you had your doppelgänger instead. The being your heart was so full for.

“Love?” The replicant sees the change in your expression, frowning now.

“I’m okay. Yes, I’ll help you cook. It sounds fun.” You’re not relishing the thought of working over a hot stove in that stuffy third floor living space, longing for the upcoming change in the weather. But you like the idea of working beside your partner. Preparing a meal. And what would come after.

The bite on your shoulder throbs, reminding you.

[noisytenant]

i think it would be good to just write a zine about doing the dishes and negotiating around dish issues because it seems like the #1 roommate problem

[laiiaaa]

gushing over bf Carmy and he doesn’t even know how sexy he isssss :(((

Carmen—finally—has off from work tonight. Which means it’ll be relaxing for once in the past couple weeks, having time spent with you and you alone, cuddling over a movie, kissing between soft conversations, half-attentive before he’ll finally scoop you up and take you to bed.

But that’s for later.

Right now, though, he emerges in the living room ready for the movie you’d asked him to watch with you. You perk up at his entry and turn around to lean against the back of the couch, caught in a kiss before he starts telling you…well, you can’t seem to keep up.

All that’s on your mind is Carmy Carmy Carmy, so much so that whatever he’s saying doesn’t process, a wave of awe clouding your mind. You get lost in his image for a broad moment, doing little else other than admiring the stretch of his tee against his chest and biceps that tug the fabric just right, the sinew of his forearms tensing as he grips the back of the couch; his curls freshly washed hours earlier, still styled loosely before stressed bouts straighten them, stragglers suspended by his brow bone that charming way you remember when you first met; gray sweats handing loose on his hips, a little less so at the front to make you drool. He looks good, so so painfully good, and he doesn’t even know it. He’s not even trying.

“You listenin’, baby?” You only hear him when he tilts your chin up with his index and thumb—gently, to guide your attention back. “Baby?”

And your head follows, but your eyes still linger along his tensed forearms before they finally acknowledge his words and meet his gaze. “Hm?”

He smiles softly. “Spacin’ out, huh?”

“Sorry—” You bite at your lip. “You’re just so handsome,” you tell him as you look your arms around his neck. “It’s distracting.”

He starts to blush. “Yeah, okay.” But his hands smooth down your back anyway, pausing along the curve of your ass before an adoring squeeze.

“I’m serious, Carmy,” you coo, tugging him down for another kiss and teasing your nails along the nape of his neck. “Most handsome man ever.” One hand cups his jaw before another peck. “And the sweetest,” another smooch to his cheek, “and the prettiest,” and the other side, “and the sexiest,” again to his temple—

“Okay, baby,” he starts, flushed to his neck, but you beat him to the punch—

“And the best boyfriend ever,” you quip, extra sharp before you soothe it with a languid kiss to his lips, smiling against him as his hands run along your spine, slowing you down to sweet kisses until your forehead meets his. “You’re just the best, Bear.” And another, because you can’t help yourself when he looks like this. “So kind, the best chef ever, and so strong…” You bring your hands to paw at his arms again, “So so handsome, and you’re all mine—”

He scoffs, trying to bite back that gush of his heart, that rush of blood down south that has him pressed into the couch. “I think I get it, baby.” Gentle smooch to your forehead. “Thank you.”

You groan and sit on your heels, dragging your hands down his chest, to his middle, then closer to his waistband. Looking up at him with doe eyes and plush pout, you ask, “Take me to bed, Carmy…”

He huffs. “Thought we were watchin’ a movie tonight?”

“Want you t’fuck me instead…” Teasing a little lower, your fingertips graze behind the fabric. “Please?”

And if he thought he was hiding it before, he’s really giving himself away now: head lolling forward with a heady sigh, weight leaning into the couch as his blush spreads to his neck; mind swirling at the thought of you touching him, whining his name some more, pleading with that same pout as he’s making you come beneath him.

In no time he’s bent over to scoop you up from the couch, your giggles ringing in his ear while he carries you to the bedroom.

What, did you expect him to say no to you asking him so sweetly? The movie can wait. It’s your fault for getting him all worked up, anyway.

[zzzzzestforlife]

✏️ what no one tells you about how to journal 📒

i was sick of all the "how to journal" content out there recycling the same advice that sounds great but doesn't always work in the reality of daily life. you're welcome 😏 (also low-key a shitpost, but there are nuggets of wisdom in here, i promise 😇)

✍️ what to journal about ✍️

sure, you could journal about self development and treat your diary like your therapist, OR you could write about:

the pettiest grudge you're still holding onto from elementary school 😤

all the gossip about other people's lives that you have Strong Opinions™️ about, but you're a good person, so what goes in the journal, stays in the journal 🤫

all the witty comebacks you never say to people's faces because you're a sensible, non-confrontational person, but also you didn't think of it until later 🙃

the possibilities are endless, let your imagination run wild, and/or feel free to contact the blogger for more 🤭

🚫 when NOT to journal 🚫

this is just as, if not more, important as when to journal.

nothing to say — forget morning pages, i can barely string together a coherent greeting before lunch. also, a whole night's sleep is like a total memory wipe, so i have nothing to write about 🤷‍♀️ and don't listen to whoever says to just write "i have nothing to write about" because if you start enough entries with that, you're gonna begin to feel there's no point BUT THERE IS!! just not right now. and that's okay ☺️

too often — personally, i think it's important not to make journaling your one source of clarity 🔮 continue to think things through in your mind, confide in people you trust, and have moments (in nature, perhaps) that simply can't be transcribed to words 🌼

not feeling it — if you're too tired OR feel fulfilled and clear-headed enough about your day, don't make journaling a chore you have to do no matter what. if that means you don't journal everyday, then so be it 🌝

so when do you journal? in general, when doing so would add something to your day ☀️ whether that's peace, humor, gratitude, or something else.

🎁 materials 🎁

now for the fun part: let's go to the stationery store! 🛒

✒️ GET A PEN THAT WRITES SMOOTHLY! you are literally lowering the physical resistance that's keeping you from journaling, trust me it works. also pencils suck.

🔐 get a journal with a band, lock, clasp, button, etc. — just because it's fun, but it has the added benefit of securing your intellectual property(?)

have a separate journal for writing thoughts vs. schedules vs. todos vs. collections (TBR lists, recipes, etc.) — beats having to make and maintain a whole index to keep it all organized in just one (1) notebook 😵‍💫

🌸 stickers — are a pretty substitute for correction pens 😻 (in theory, but i have yet to use all the washi tape i bought 😅)

or just journal digitally, idgaf, do what works for you, okay? 😇

[ecoursenotepok]

How to stock trading courses for beginners online

How to stock trading courses for beginners online

How to stock trading courses for beginners online Photo by PiggyBank If you have read this far, I assume you are interested in making $7,345 or more per month swing trading. Do you know exactly what, when, how much and how often to trade to make that much profit each and every month? Well, me and my trading customers all over the world do. If you don’t…then keep reading… How to stock trading…

[mediaevalmusereads]

Baking Yesteryear. By B. Dylan Hollis. DK, 2023.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: cookbook

Series: N/A

Summary: A decade-by-decade cookbook that highlights the best (and a few of the worst) baking recipes from the 20th century

Friends of baking, are you sick and tired of making the same recipes again and again? Then look no further than this baking blast from the past, as B. Dylan Hollis highlights the most unique tasty treats of yesteryear.

Travel back in time on a delicious decade-by-decade jaunt as Dylan shows you how to bake vintage forgotten greats. With a big pinch of fun and a full cup of humor, you’ll be baking everything from Chocolate Potato Cake from the 1910s to Avocado Pie from the 1960s.

Dylan has baked hundreds of recipes from countless antique cookbooks and selected only the best for this bakebook, sharing the shining stars from each decade. And because some of the recipes Dylan shares on his wildly popular social media channels are spectacular failures, he’s thrown in a few of the most disastrously strange recipes for you to try if you dare.

***Full review below.***

Since this book is non-fiction, my review will be structured a little different from normal.

I've had this book for a while, but I didn't want to post a review before making a few of the recipes myself. I was already a fan of Hollis from his TikToks, so that might introduce some bias into my review - just so you're all aware.

Overall, I found this book to be quirky, easy to follow, and fun. I loved the bright colors and retro-feel to the photo shoots, and I appreciated that almost all of the recipes were accompanied by a picture of the thing you're supposed to be making. I also liked the blurbs written by Hollis himself; they very much felt like his voice, with his characteristic sense of humor balanced by his genuine love for baking and "old things."

Perhaps the most valuable part of this book, however, was the emphasis on lowering barriers to entry. I've read my fair share of baking guides that call for special ingredients or equipment, and there are a lot of recipes out there that are finicky and sure ton dissuade new bakers. Hollis's book, however, emphasizes that most (if not all) of these recipes can be done with basic tools - one does not even need an electric mixer (though it does make some recipes easier). There also aren't many fancy ingredients that aren't readily available at most grocery stores, so that also helps.

I do, however, have some minor criticisms which relate to the usability of this book. For one, the organization makes it rather difficult to find a specific recipe (or even category), particularly if you're like me and don't recall what decade it came from. While organizing the recipes by decade makes sense given the book's premise, it does make it more functionally difficult - you can't flip to the cake section, for example, and browse or put yourself within the general vicinity of the recipe you're looking for. Thus, readers will have to rely on either the TOC or the index a lot more, but this is a minor inconvenience rather than a huge drawback.

I also don't think the majority of the recipes are blow-your-mind good, but honestly, given this book's premise, I don't think that's the worst thing. The recipes are largely taken from sources aimed at home bakers, so you're not going to get professional-level pastries out of them. You will, however, get things that are fun and relatively simple to make, and they taste good enough to me that I'd consider making them multiple times.

TL;DR: Baking Yesteryear is a fine book for fans of Hollis's TikTok, but it goes beyond being mere merch. It not only provides historical recipes that are easy to replicate, but it also does a good job of lowering barriers to entry for new bakers. Experienced bakers might not be overly impressed by the recipes, but engaging with food history is a treat in and of itself, and it's delightful to see someone like Hollis engaging with the past with such enthusiasm and adoration.