#rhythm: doppelganger

[tsunagite]

Doodles

[tomoeegawa]

And here's Iris's rival aka doppelganger, Nerissa Kiana

[bopinion]

Doppelganger

Elias Otha Bates, better known as Bo Diddley, is considered a pioneer of rock'n'roll, wrote countless blues anthems and liked to tinker his own guitars. He added a self-made tremolo device to his first Gibson in 1947 with parts from a clock and a used car. He produced his music himself and invented the typical rhythm "Bo Diddley Beat". He was less creative with his album titles: Bo Diddley, Go Bo Diddley, Bo Diddley's a Twister, Big Bad Bo, Hey! Bo Diddley, Bo knows Bo, Bo-Jam, Bo Diddley is crazy etc. I don't care, he put a lot of Bo in the charts.

[notmyneighbor]

resistance | doppel francis x female reader

part 2/?

words | 5.3k

cw | explicit sexual content

ao3 link

taglist | @jazminetoad @uhnanix @fangwh0r3 @zenxvii @mistrosa

You don’t sleep much that first evening with the doppelganger in the next room.

You glare at the alarm clock and shut it off before it has a chance to sound the next morning. Might as well start getting ready for work. You enter the shower before the water has a chance to run warm, thinking maybe the shock of the cold will make you feel more alert. After that brisk cleansing you return to your bedroom, glancing down the hall on the way by, clutching your bath towel tightly around you, but you don’t hear your guest stirring yet.

You get dressed—deciding on a dress today, might as well start with the summer wardrobe now—then prod your skin as you frown at your appearance in the mirror. You’ve got bags under your eyes to match Francis’ this morning. Well, you’d just have to hope the puffiness would resolve later. Concealer will have to do for now.

The replicant seems to have had no such trouble sleeping, you discover as you enter the living room. His eyes are closed, chest rising and falling evenly in a slow, gentle rhythm, one arm draped lazily over the side of the couch, fingers brushing the floor, blanket in a rumpled mess across his midsection. You’d never guess in a million years that this slumbering person was really a doppelganger, a monster hiding inside the disguise of a man.

You begin making a quick breakfast in the kitchen, starting with the coffee maker. It isn’t long before your new roommate appears in the doorway, blinking drowsily and digging the heel of one hand against his eyes. It’s such an oddly human gesture. So…normal.

“Good morning.” You’ve finished pressing the paper filter into the machine, spooning a heap of coffee grounds inside, the water already measured and poured and the glass pot sitting on the burner. You normally only make a single cup for yourself, and you’ve no idea if the doppel will be interested, but you decide you’ll make it and offer it anyway.

“Mmmm,” he hums, dragging a hand through his mussed hair. You wonder if any of these mannerisms belong to Francis. Just exactly how much are these doppels able to replicate?

“You didn’t have to get up this early. I just have to go to work.” You point to the coffee maker. “Want a cup?”

“I guess. I’ve never had it before.”

You get another mug down from the cupboard, drumming your nails nervously on the counter while you wait. Francis’ clone is leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, watching you, and it’s making you feel self conscious. You try not to stare too much at all that bare skin he’s flashing.

At last the machine hisses and sputters and begins dripping brown liquid and the aroma of brewing coffee fills the air.

“That smells good,” he murmurs.

You fill his mug three quarters full. “I don’t know how you take it. I mean, you don’t either, obviously, if you’ve never had it before.” You add a spoonful of sugar and pour some cream in and stir, handing the mug to the doppel.

He takes a tentative sip. “Bitter,” he says. “And hot.”

“More sugar, then. You’ve got a sweet tooth, I think. And let it cool for a minute before you take another sip.”

He frowns over the term you’ve used and you elaborate. “It means you favor things that are sweet. Prefer them.”

“Mmmm.” He still looks drowsy. It’s amazing how much he sounds like his human counterpart. Francis Mosses was a man of few words. Stop comparing him to Francis. To humans. He’s neither, you remind yourself.

“Have a seat at the table. It’s just going to be cereal and toast, I’m afraid. I don’t typically cook before work.”

You watch the imposter milkman slouch into the same chair he’d used the previous evening. How strange it was to see a man occupying your kitchen like this. Well, not a man; a male, you suppose, recalling your silent reprimand from moments before. Dropping down, spreading out. He takes up room, the way only one of that gender can. Dominating. The table looks so much smaller with him sitting at it, elbows resting on the Formica table until he moves one arm to lazily scratch at some itch on his chest, the thin white shirt rumpling and shifting. Speaking of clothing…

“I’ll try to find you something else to wear this weekend. I checked the tags on your uniform already. Washed in the sink and hung up to dry in the bathroom. I know it’s not ideal, but for now…”

“Thank you.”

You fill two bowls with cereal and add milk, cutting up the last of the strawberries from the pint in the refrigerator and slotting another pair of bread slices into the toaster after the first set is finished and buttered, setting everything in front of the doppel, along with a spoon and a much sweeter cup of coffee. He takes another hesitant sip, then nods. “Better.”

“There’s leftovers in the fridge for lunch. Or you can make a sandwich.” You’re not sure if he even knows what that is. You suppose it’s a little cruel to make him eat the remains of last night’s dinner cold, but there’s no way you’re letting him use the oven.

The doppelganger eyes the red seeded fruit sliced over his cereal curiously, lifting one free and munching thoughtfully. He hums appreciatively and you add that to your mental list of things he likes. Why does it matter what he likes?

You finally join him at the table, the rest of your meal ready. “What are you going to do all day?”

“I don’t know yet. Just lay low and wait for you to return, I suppose.”

“And then what?”

He’s making short work of the cereal, you notice. Toast, too. Maybe you should offer more. Maybe he needs larger portions. Why are you being so hospitable?

“Then you teach me another recipe.”

“Alright.” You take a bite of buttered toast.

“No vegetables,” he adds.

You smile softly. “They’re good for you. Maybe we can find some you’ll like.”

“Then more cake?” He sounds hopeful.

“It’s gone, but we can bake something else. I only made a small one because I wasn’t expecting company.”

He nods, finishing the rest of his coffee.

You fiddle with the handle of your spoon, trying to think of something else to say. “Were there other doppels there with you? Inside the DDD building?”

“Not that I’m aware. I wasn’t looking, though. I just got out.”

“Did you kill the men?”

He lets his utensil drop, striking the side of the now empty ceramic bowl loudly. “What do you think?”

You lower your eyes. It had been easy to pretend, for a moment there, that he was peaceful. That this was normal. How convincing and manipulative these beings are, you think. How terrible.

“What would you have had me do? I didn’t ask to be taken.”

“I know,” you mumble, wishing you hadn’t mentioned the topic to begin with.

The remainder of breakfast continues in silence. You bring the soiled cups and dishes to the sink, glancing at the clock on the wall. Definitely time to leave for work. You’re running a bit behind, actually. You’re not used to having a second person here to wait on, doing double of everything. The doppelganger follows you to the front door.

“I’ll be home around five, if there isn’t too much paperwork. I’m not planning on staying as late as I did yesterday.”

“Imagine if you hadn’t. Then I wouldn’t be here right now. I’m sure you’re wishing now that you’d left sooner.” There’s a layer of acidity there that he doesn’t bother masking.

Your eyes meet his. “You murder humans. Eat us. How else do you expect me to react?”

“Your kind slaughters animals. Do they deserve it?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Animals are bred to be consumed, for us to survive…”

“And do they not deserve a chance to survive? Do they not have a right to exist as much as you? Don’t answer, because I can see it clearly. You think they’re of lesser value than humans. Just like the doppels.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” the mimic retorts bitterly.

“Listen. I don’t know how long you’re going to be hiding out here, but I’ve been trying to be kind to you, accommodate you, and it would be nice if you could return the favor.”

The replicant’s hands, curled into fists, abruptly relax. “I’ve been trying,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Try harder. I’m leaving now. Remember not to make too much noise. Don’t go outside. I can’t be held responsible for what’ll happen if you do.” You shut the door behind you with more force than necessary, realizing your hands are shaking. Infuriating, how judgmental the copycat is. As if he had any right to be, when he’s imposing on you, putting your life at risk.

You’re mad at yourself, because there were moments, last night and again this morning, where you had found yourself enjoying his company, and that admission is something you can’t bare to fully face and analyze the implications of right now.

***

Your shift passes by without a single mention of the doppelganger’s escape the previous evening.

Indeed, if you didn’t know any better, you’d never have guessed anything had happened. The guards still nod courteously as you flash your badge before entering the facility. The standard pair, no additional forces in sight. Everyone else in the office seems calm, focused on their work.

You struggle to feel the same way. There’s a fugitive doppelganger waiting for you when you get home. You can’t stop thinking about him. About your last conversation. He’d been upset. You had, too. You’re not sure if he’ll have cooled off by the time you return.

You try to ask casually in the breakroom if anything interesting had made the news, if anything new was happening at work, but no one provides the information you’re feeling around for. So the story was kept secret, then. Too risky for the DDD to admit they’d lost a captive doppel. Maybe too difficult to explain why he was there in the first place.

Why had they taken him? Why did they alter his memories? Were there other doppels here, too? Being captured and experimented on? To what end?

Your fingers stumble on the typewriter’s keys. You’ve made so many errors today. The wastebin is loaded with crumpled drafts. You find your mind wandering again, your fingers stilling completely. You don’t even hear the phone on the first ring, relying on successive attempts to finally break through your reverie.

You’re no nearer any answers to your questions by the end of your shift. You just find yourself asking more and more. Spreading and multiplying, virus-like. Replicating like the doppels.

The trip to your car is uneventful tonight. Now you’re headed back to the apartment building. To the fugitive you’re concealing.

There’s a doppelganger in your home, and you’re not nearly as upset about that fact as you should be.

***

The day drags by.

The doppelganger isn’t sure what to do once he’s showered and dressed in clothes that are still a little damp, truth be told. The television that humans seem so fascinated with holds no interest for him. He paces the hallway and tries to plan his next course of action. He’s escaped, a free agent, but he’s left without intact memories. He’s not sure if there’s any way to recover them, but if there is, the DDD is the only means to that end.

He can hardly stroll back inside to inquire. Which means possibly putting you to work, seeing what you can discover. Risky, of course. Just like you allowing him to stay here is risky.

He’d been harsh with you that morning. He doesn’t regret it, exactly; he thinks you needed to hear the words, realize the truth behind them. But he’d rather not have had you depart immediately after the argument. It makes him feel…something. He’s not sure what. You make him feel a lot of things he’s not familiar with; has no terminology, lacks definitions for.

He knows he’s been forbidden to enter your bedroom, but he feels that is meant more for when you’re present, for privacy’s sake, so he finally enters in the early afternoon, partly out of boredom, partly out of curiosity. The dresser is littered with objects. A tray full of jewelry, a decoration that baffles the mimic nearly as much as the makeup you wear. There are bottles of various perfumes that he samples, finding most of them to his liking. It reminds him strongly of you, your presence, and he wishes you were home, instead of in that wretched DDD structure.

A wooden hairbrush, the bristles stiff but soft, several threads of your hair visible between them. He watches the way the light filtering in through the windows catches on the strands, turning the handle this way and that. He knows the feel of it, having touched you however briefly the previous evening, securing the loose hair that had spilled free. Silky soft, and fragrant.

Your robe hangs on a hook over the closet door. The doppel takes a handful, lets the fabric brush his injured cheek, inhaling your scent. He knows he’ll also find it in the pillows on the bed, but he doesn’t dare disturb that neatly made furnishing, exiting the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

There is not much else that interests him in your home; little to occupy his time with. He rifles through the mirrored medicine cabinet. A razor. Something he doesn’t require, as his appearance is all an illusion. His face will never grow hair, because Francis Mosses does not have facial hair. He will never need the tousled brown mane to be trimmed, because the length it is at is exactly the same length as the milkman’s. His eyes will always appear tired, because the third floor resident he’s cloned has perpetual smudges beneath his own orbs. The doppelganger stares at his reflection, and for a brief moment, he lets the image shift slightly. The teeth sharpen and yellow, the eyes streak with burst vessels, the lids become red rimmed. You would not care for his real appearance, he is certain.

The milkman’s image is restored. He wanders back to the living room to sit on the couch, waiting for your return.

***

You unlock your apartment door and ease it open, seeing that Francis’ clone is seated on the couch. No disasters, then.

You hurriedly shut and lock the door behind you, stepping forward just as the doppelganger rises and moves toward you. Your handbag is set on the console table.

“How was your day?” The morning’s conversation is still fresh in your mind. The anger on both sides. Your tone is cautiously neutral now, trying to feel things out.

“Boring. Lonely.”

You feel a little ache in your chest at this admission. You don’t know what to say. He missed you, specifically, or just didn’t like having no one else around?

“Did anyone mention me at work?”

“No. Not a word. It was just like any other day.”

“Don’t you find that strange?”

“Yes,” you admit. “But that doesn’t necessarily prove anything.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I do. I just can’t reconcile that an organization created to protect us would be involved in some sort of devious experiments on the very creatures they’d promised to destroy. I tried to wrap my brain around it all day, and I just couldn’t make it make sense.” You pause. “You’re lonely? Do you have family, or…?”

“Not that I recall. Again, much of my memories are full of holes. This place is empty without you here.”

You swallow, processing that sentiment. So he did miss you. “I don’t want to fight with you,” you say softly.

“I don’t either.”

“Truce?” You hold out your hand and he looks at it curiously. “You shake on it. It’s an agreement. A promise, to keep things peaceful between us going forward.”

“You said never to touch you.”

“I’ll make an exception for this.” His fingers touch yours, threading between them instead of gripping them. “No, it’s meant to be…” Your voice trails off as you stare at that pairing, not drawing back, allowing yourself to be entangled with those warm, human feeling digits. You know they’re not real, and yet they feel it.

“Your heart is beating fast again.”

“I know.” You reluctantly drop your hand. “I should start dinner.”

“We,” he corrects.

“Yes. We.”

***

The doppelganger hadn’t been bragging. He is indeed a fast learner.

Already moving around the kitchen with a comfort and familiarity that’s surprising considering it’s only his second day here.

“You need to crack an egg. You hit it against the side of the bowl, but—” Too late. The doppel smashes the fragile item firmly against the rim and the shell shatters, pieces falling down into the bowl, the yolk running in a slimy trail down the side. “—Not too hard,” you finish, wincing. “It’s okay. We’ll try again. Wash your hands first. I’ll pick out the shell.”

When you’ve finished removing the slivers from the batter as best you can, you select another egg from the carton, handing it to him. “We’ll do this together so you can see how much force to apply. It’s a swift, firm stroke, but very precise, so you’re breaking it open as cleanly as possible to extract what’s inside.” Your hand covers his poised near the rim of the bowl. “Like this.” You guide his hand downward. There is a soft cracking sound, and then you maneuver his hand over the mixture. “Release, gently.” You feel his fingers shift and the jellylike yellow center drops down, the clear, sticky protein filled fluid oozing just behind. “Perfect. You’ve got it.” You smile, turning to face the doppel, and your breath hitches. He’s staring, not at the food he’s preparing with your aid, but at your face, with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Rich milk chocolate eyes, a delicate fringe of lashes on their borders. Full lips slightly parted, breath rushing past. In and out. His hand is so warm.

“You can…you can just drop that into the wastebasket.” You force yourself to release his hand and he obeys your command, the moment dissipating.

***

After dinner and dessert, you both sit on the couch. The television is playing softly in the background but neither of you is paying attention to it.

He’s staring at you again. You can feel it. You change positions and squirm, trying to relax and get comfortable, but it’s impossible. He’d slept here last night. His head cradled right where you’re sitting. Sprawled out. Growing warm during the evening, shoving the blanket down. Long limbs shifting.

You clear your throat. You have to stop thinking these thoughts. “Why don’t we play cards?”

Francis’ clone looks at you quizzically and you jump up, grateful to be kept busy for a few moments, distracting you from the copycat’s gaze as you rummage in the tv cabinet to retrieve a deck. You don’t play often, just an occasional game of Solitaire, but you think the imposter just might enjoy something like Crazy Eights.

“Come with me into the kitchen. We need a flat surface for this.”

You sit at the table and the doppel joins you, watching as you slide the deck free of its container and begin shuffling the cards, dividing the stack and then fanning the edges, then sliding them back together. “Want to try?”

He nods and you guide him through the process. He gets it right on the second attempt, his fingers deftly interweaving the cards.

“Good. Now the game we’re going to play is called Crazy Eights. The goal is to get rid of all the cards in your hand. The first person to do so wins the game. To begin with, we each get five cards.” You deal them out, continuing your instructions. “Leave them facedown for a second. The rest of the deck gets placed here. Top card flipped…okay. Three of spades. That means that if it was your turn right now, you’d need to play another card that is either the same suit, matching this symbol here, or else has the equivalent number value. If you don’t have either of those available, you must keep drawing from this pile here until you find one you can play. With me so far?” He nods. “Now the only other thing you need to know is that the cards with the number eight on them are special. If you place one down, you’re able to declare what suit you want your opponent to play next. We’ll just do a practice run so you can see how it goes, then we can play for real.”

It doesn’t take the doppel long to figure it out. He’s smart, you think. Really clever. Adaptable.

He has to be, you remind yourself silently. That’s how they survive.

You play two rounds, then switch to Rummy, then Spades, then show him Solitaire, something to keep him occupied while you’re at work. You try to conceal a few yawns and the doppel notices.

“You’re tired.”

“It’s been a long day. And I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Because of me.”

“I was nervous.”

“Are you still nervous?”

Yes, you think. But for very different reasons now. Aloud, you simply state that you are.

You place the cards back in the box and leave it on the table. It was time to get ready for bed.

***

The doppelganger makes up the couch while you take your shower.

It’s a simple task that leaves him wanting for things to do to keep him occupied while he waits. His eyes keep glancing to the hallway.

He’s thinking of how it had felt, threading his fingers through yours. Having you hold his when you’d been cooking together. He’s enjoyed this evening with you. You’re the enemy, the one he’s meant to destroy, to conquer, and yet…he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to harm you.

Francis’ clone sits and then stands again. He can’t. He simply can’t tolerate waiting here. He walks down the hall, waiting beside the bathroom door, listening for the sound of the water running, waiting for it to stop. There. Some rustling. Drying off. The sound of the lock turning, and you emerge, looking startled to find him standing right outside.

“Francis.”

He feels odd when you say that name. Partly pleased, because it means he is convincing as the true man. Perhaps a little jealous, too. He wonders if you find the original attractive. A little flare of jealousy at this. He wants to be the superior version. The preferred model.

“I’ve already made the couch up.”

“Oh. Good.” You adjust the height of the bath towel wrapped around you a little higher, concealing more of the curves of your breasts. “Well, I’m finished in the bathroom, so I guess I’ll say goodnight now then.”

“Goodnight,” he says, reluctantly stepping aside to allow you to cross the hall. The bedroom door closes. He stares at that door for a long time, imagining you preparing for bed, your body naked before…

No interest in anything of that sort, isn’t that what he’d promised you? So why is his body reacting this way? The replicant strips and enters the shower, still damp from your recent one, and each stroke of lathered hands over his skin seems a cruel tease, an unsatisfying supplement for what he really wants. He wants your hands touching him, especially…

His breath hitches as he strokes his growing erection. Here. Urging to mate. Sensitive, hot, flushed, hard. Your pleased smile when he does something correctly, the lesson learned. The lines of bone leading to your shoulders, visible even earlier, in the v neckline of the dress you’d worn. Just now, those shoulders bare.

He presses his palms against the wall of the shower, head bowed, letting the water cascade over the nape of his neck. Those lips. He covets those most of all. Those soft looking, pink wedges of flesh. Gates to the warmth and moisture within.

He leaves the shower, aching, unsatisfied. Brushes his teeth like you’d demonstrated. He doesn’t care for the mint flavor, but he does like the clean sensation in his mouth. Combs through his hair. Thinks about you brushing through yours. Those silky strands. Torment.

The mimic returns to the living room, switching off the lamp as he goes. He can find his way in the dark now. He lies down and crosses his ankles, staring up at the void, the blanket shoved at the other end of the couch by his feet. He’s only wearing the briefs. He’s too warm. He shuts his eyes and they snap back open.

You hadn’t locked your bedroom door.

***

You didn’t lock your bedroom door.

You’re thinking this after you’ve gone to bed, lying there suddenly not able to sleep, in spite of how tired you are.

You’re not even sure if leaving the door unlocked was intentional, that’s the crazy part.

Perhaps some part of your subconscious had been at work, providing opportunity, should the doppel be interested.

Be interested in what? You know. Of course you know.

You rest a hand on your chest and feel how hard your heart is pounding. He surely hears it. How can he hear it?

The sound of the doorknob turning makes you hold your breath. You close your eyes and try to keep still. Pretending to be asleep.

A slight creak as the door opens, a click as it shuts. Bare feet sinking into plush carpet. Pausing by the side of the bed. You know he’s there, even with your eyes closed.

“I know you’re awake,” he says softly. “Your heart wouldn’t be beating that fast if you were sleeping.”

“It might if I was having a nightmare.” You can’t help but try to defend yourself just a little. One last measure of resistance before surrendering to the inevitable.

“Is this a nightmare, do you think?”

“No.” You sit up, easing your legs over the side of the mattress. Pushing yourself to your feet. He’s right there. Beside you. You can feel the heat wafting from him.

Your hand reaches out blindly, finding his. Fingers tangling together in the darkness. “Touch me, Francis.”

“I’m not supposed to touch you, remember?”

“You’re not supposed to come in my room, either.”

You can picture him smiling at that, a little smirk. “You left the door unlocked.”

“It was an accident.”

“Was it?” His index finger slides along yours.

“No. It wasn’t.” You turn and his hand shifts, reaching up blindly to sink in your hair, his fingers trailing down your cheek and stroking your jaw. They define collarbone and shoulder and then curve around one breast. Down to your hip and then you take control of his hand again, guiding it beneath the waistband of your satin pajama bottoms.

You whimper, biting your lip when he first grazes your sex.

“No panties. Did you forget those, too? Another accident?” His fingers glide between your lips and you gasp.

“No. Not an accident.”

“You want this.”

“I do. I do want this, Francis. Oh…” He’s brought the dewy slick of your arousal back to your bud, drawing a circle, teasing the hardening flesh out of its hood.

His nose bumps your cheek, trying to find your mouth in the darkness. There. Your stomach somersaults as his lips crush against yours. He moans at that touch and you think it is the most sensual thing you’ve ever heard. Just absolute helpless pleasure and desire. You can taste your toothpaste as he strokes your tongue. Another stomach flip at this sensation. Your nails dig into this shoulder. He’s still massaging your clit as he explores your mouth, until it makes you quiver too much and you sink back onto the bed, reaching for him, urging him to follow.

You feel the weight of his knees pressing on the mattress, sinking down, braced on either side of you. Hands reaching beneath your top to massage your breasts as you struggle to get your pajama bottoms off, lifting your hips and scraping them down over your buttocks. Francis’ clone tries to help, still kissing you, still trying to explore your body while helping divest you of your clothes, everything made more complicated because neither of you has turned on a light. You laugh a little at the absurdity of it and he pauses midway through tossing aside the top you’ve finally removed in a joint venture, the bottoms already shed.

“What’s amusing?”

“Just…doing this in the dark. You can put the light on, you know.”

“But that would mean moving away from you,” he counters. He’s at your throat now, planting wet kisses there. “Besides, I don’t even know where it is. You shouldn’t have worn something so complicated. What you had on last night would have been much easier to remove.”

“You’re right.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He reaches for your hand, laying it on his chest and pushing down. You feel the lean torso of the imposter milkman, the slightly coarse texture from body hair between his pectoral muscles and then again leading down in a stripe to the waistband of his briefs. He keeps pushing, at a slower pace now, and you feel his prick tenting his briefs, hard and demanding, and a little damp spot of pre cum saturating the fabric.

Another moan of sound. You move back to the elastic band and help him shove the underwear down over his hips. Not much past that level, but you don’t think it matters, because you’re both too impatient now. Your legs are spread and he’s found his way between them, sliding his erection across your mound, over your sensitive nub and down to your entrance.

He begins to thrust inside and you drag in a harsh rasp of air at that feeling of being stretched, filled. The doppel leans and pushes further in, down and down until he’s fully buried inside and his mouth is back on yours, his fingers lacing through the hand you have resting limp somewhere near your face.

“Fuck,” he curses, his hips lifting slightly, cock easing out before he pushes back inside.

“Where did you learn that word?”

“Where do you think?” He nips at your ear.

“I never taught you that.”

“No. I don’t know where I heard it. But it seems appropriate. That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it? Fucking,” he pants beside your ear after another several thrusts. “Mating. Breeding…”

“Francis,” you gasp, both at his words and the sensation as he pumps in and out of your pussy.

“You feel so good,” he sighs, nuzzling your cheek. “So warm, so tight, so wet…hungry for me, hmm? What a pretty thing you are, so sweet…” His voice fades as he begins pounding into you in earnest, setting a more rapid, intense rhythm. Your pelvis rolls to meet him, knees digging into his ribs. You suck his bottom lip and squeeze the hand that you’re clutching, urging him on. He tastes like salt now, perspiration mixed with soap and musk all lingering at his brow, his cheek, the side of his throat.

Everything is growing tighter inside you, coiling, pressure building. Your bodies slap wetly together and he batters that special aching spot deep inside. He breathes your name and it sounds reverent. Overwhelmed. Back to cursing, primitive and filthy and vulgar, and you drink it from his lips, whisper it back to him. There. It’s happening. Unwinding and shattering around him, becoming boneless, soft, limp as the echoes wrack your limbs, waves that drag at the cock invading you, pulling him under with you, spilling seed, breath hotly huffed above your lips, a little noise of wonder, a groan, the fingers tightening in yours, holding on to you, keeping anchored, until he finally slips free, drops next to you, wet and panting, still tethered to your hand, in the darkness.

[writingfandomfeels]

Anakin Skywalker - Drunken Doppelganger Discovery

Summary: You're drunkenly rambling to a stranger that you don't realize is THEE Anakin Skywalker, and he makes sure you get home safely. Timeline is roughly Clone Wars ish.

Word count: 965

Content Warnings: Drinking, briefly one creepy guy

The heavy beat of the music in the club pulsed through your body as you danced. Lights of every color flashed in time to the rhythm, accentuating the movements of the other dancers around you. Their silhouettes swirled in your vision, no face ever clear enough to see, just a blur of dark then colorfully bright then dark again.

Realizing that your glass was now empty, you turned to make your way back to the bar. Your destination in sight, it took all of your focus to concentrate on successfully walking toward it. Your body swayed as if on a ship at sea, but you simply leaned into it, letting the feeling make you giggle in amusement.

You plunked yourself down on a stool, waiting for the bartender, who looked like a walking booger. He seemed to be too occupied filling the multiple orders of others to notice you, so you decided to get comfortable and get to know the person seated next to you. You turned to your left to look at him and were immediately struck by his luscious long curls and chiseled jaw.

“Holy shit, you’re hot.” You say, not entirely sure if it was out loud or in your head as you had intended it.

The blond man turned to look at you, clearly taken aback at your comment. The slight curve of a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he considered if you really just said that to him.

You looked him over, taking in his leather outfit now too. “Hey you know who you look like? Oh what’s his name- that, that jedi… uhh… Anakin Skywalker!” You said, pointing to him, thinking how uncanny the resemblance was. You then turned back to locate the bartender. “Hottest jedi in the galaxy.” Finding that the bartender was now pouring a long line of shots, you turned your attention back to your neighbor. “You know I always thought the jedi were just born old. You know? Like it just feels like they’re always just a bunch of old men. Old religious men I suppose. Yeah, not normally my cup of tea but that Skywalker?” You laughed, “Pretty sure anybody would take a cup of that.” You began waving at the bartender, trying to get his attention, but nevertheless continuing your drunken rambling. “You know I heard they can’t get laid. The jedi.” You clarified. “But if you ask me, I think that’s just because a bunch of old men were pissed that a hottie like Anakin fucking Skywalker could just come along and not only steal their thunder with being better than them at their woo woo force shit and their voom voom lightsabers,” you said, gesturing with your hands for emphasis “but he also literally could get anybody he wanted.”

By now that slight smirk had turned into a hardly contained grin of amusement. You didn’t notice though as you finally locked eyes with the booger bartender and he made his way over to you.

“Finally.” You complained.

Anakin’s gaze darted from you to the bartender and back.

As he arrived, you started your order, “I’ll get a-”

“You just want water.” Anakin cut you off, waving his hand.

“I just want water.” You said to the bartender, who obliged.

You drank from the glass, thirstier than you’d thought. The ice tingled your lips and cooled you as you swallowed. You blinked a moment, staring into the glass and wondering how you ended up with water instead of the cocktail you’d craved earlier.

“You’re going to go home now.” The voice to your left said.

You thought of your home and how comfy your bed would be right about now. “I’m going to go home now.” You said, imagining your soft pillows, feeling like there was nothing in the world you wanted more right now. You stood, approaching the exit.

“I’ll come too,” a nearby Devaronian growled, eyeing you in a predatory way as he went to follow you.

Anakin jumped from his seat, stepping in front of the Devaronian. “No, you’re not.” He stared threateningly, flashing the hilt of his lightsaber.

The Devaronian grumbled and walked off.

Deciding he needed to ensure your safety now, Anakin exited the club to find you. Luckily, you hadn’t made it too far as he found you sitting slumped on the curb, pouting.

“I thought you were going home?” He asked.

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because my shoe is broke.” You held up the broken heel to him. “Now I can’t walk anywhere.” You let out a dramatic sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to stay here forever. I live here now. This is my home.”

A moment passed as you stared sadly at your broken shoe, and Anakin stared at you. Seeing no other alternative, he scooped you up into his arms and began carrying you down the street. 

“Where do you live?” He asked. 

You smiled, pleasantly surprised to be held in such muscular arms, you almost forgot to answer his question. 

“Oh, just past the mini mart.” 

He gave a nod, confirming he knew where that was.

You stared a moment longer at your hero’s face. “I like you.” You said, playfully poking his nose with your index finger. “You saved me from shoes. Maybe you don’t save the galaxy like your look-alike but you’re still nice.” You let your head lean back against him and closed your eyes, beginning to feel very sleepy. “And pretty. Very pretty.” You added.

His chest moved against you as he softly chuckled. 

“Mmmm,” you hummed, trying so hard to fight off the oncoming sleep, “what’d you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.”

As the sleep began to take hold of you, you hardly heard the last thing he said. 

“It’s Anakin.” 

[gracemain919]

What if Obsession themself was also obsessed with a leader- but only one? What would the other leaders do?

(The Fungus Universe)

Tw: Yandere, mentions of sexual themes(if you squint)

Truly an unexpected event. You suddenly carrying on some corrupted traits or just overall naturally becoming obsessed was not something any of them expected. Especially the Liar. He had everything ‘written’. Expected every outcome and now you are starting to act like a very mild version of them… Good riddance.

Well no matter what they think or desire, sharing will happen either way. They need you, so you will still be tossed around the site but probably less often. Depends on the Leader. Some might drown in rage, some might not care as much *cough cough* Lair, *cough cough*.

How they react if they’re chosen:

The Liar: Even if this is unexpected he won’t throw away such opportunities. If you want to always be with him then you can stay in the darkness he calls his ‘home’, but he won't be greedy. Not because he is merciful, but because he cares more about his power and team than your wants and needs. You can survive without him for a little while, right? You will. Even if he is just lying directly to your face.

Poison: Oh my, aren't you such a joyful little thing? So happy to see her experiment. So excited and willing to kiss her until her already burned lips ache. Her workers would be more thankful for your common occurances since if their leader is happy then they will probably not be punished so often… Poison is very pleased and truly enjoys your presence but her closeness to the Liar might influence her decision to share you with the others. She can't keep you to herself all the time.

The Cannibal: It’s Impressive. Johnson had forgotten the true scale of how many ways he could be hurt. The surface now being covered in blood he has been enjoying being with you day and night. You seem to enjoy having him around too, especially while carving your own name into his flesh. Go on, carve it in his tongue next.

Share? Why would he do that?

Doppelganger: Come on dear. Watch him, applaud him. Keep that beautiful rhythm.

“Hey Liar! I'm the favorite and you're outdated trash! HA!”

Saying he’s happy is an understatement. Your odd and overbearing joy for his shows and entire being really was the thing he needed. The thing he craved. From one insane to another(even if you're not corrupted) he will keep you by his side. Even letting you appreciate the most mundane stuff he does. You are perfect just like that.

He might share willingly, probably to the Illusionist and Priest. The others have to pry you from his grasp.

The Illusionist: They are so happy. You always checking up on them to the point you just stay in their domain for days at a time. Your joyful face as they show you their new ‘nursery’ of larvae or the way you approve and even endorse their questions… gosh the heart they don't have is melting. From what they were told you wouldn't be able to show the same dedication as them. Glad to see they were wrong.

Why is the Doppelganger acting so cold towards them now? Are they mad? Oh no… Maybe they should not keep you with them all the time.

The Eye in the Sky: Great, you are fed, you are safe. He has been able to get so much done since you started staying on the security floor. Staying right at his side watching him defile the toughest security programs in a few clicks. No need to watch you when you're literally in his vicinity.

It benefits his work greatly, but he can't say he doesn't enjoy your lingering touches as he focuses on his computer screen. As you whisper in his ear testing his own will. Maybe his work can wait for just a moment. Wouldn't you like that?

He won't share. He is so much more effective with you by his side since he doesn't need to keep an eye on you.

The Priest: You want to sell your soul to him? How did you figure that out? Why would you even let him take something that is so precious?

Will he deny that? No. To finally literally own you… he can't say he hasn't dreamt of something like that.

You can stay in the Sanctuary as long as you like even if you sell your soul or not. If you remain clueless and don't know he is the devil then he will keep you blind… keep you with him as long as you let him.

Rose will be happy, he will be happy… everything will be fine. If the others want a bite then they will have to get it themselves since he ain't sharing.

(might make a more detailed one where the Leaders are not the chosen, maybe, maybe not. Idk)

[somethinginthemyste]

So I don't know much about Alchemy for The Magnus Protocol and I'm not sure how this pertains to things but I'm trying to learn and I stumbled across some interesting connections to the Seven Hermetic Principles so like, if people know more and want to share their thoughts? As I'm understanding, the Hermetic Principles are connected to or simply are also known as Hermeticism to which Alchemy was commonly regarded as "The Hermetic Art". Maybe people have already thought of this and analyzed it but I haven't been able to get to that part of the fandom for some reason so maybe this will bring me there.

Ripped from Wikipedia, take that as you will:

1. The principle of mentalism

"The All is Mind; the Universe is Mental."

This kinda fits with what Colin says that "too much mercury and the world ends" where mercury represents the spirit or mind. The universe is mental so too much of the mind, the mental, would overwhelm it and end everything.

2. The principle of correspondence

"As above, so below; as below, so above.” [...] This principle embodies the truth that there is always a correspondence between the laws and phenomena of the various planes of being and life.

This really feels like how the O.I.A.R. operates right? There is always a correspondence between the laws and phenomena, Gwen is the correspondence between the order and law of the O.I.A.R. and the "external" phenomena.

3. The principle of vibration

"Nothing rests; everything moves; everything vibrates."

I'm still trying to find a good solid connection to this, but I also have a theory that the fact that Alice's brother Luke is in a band is going to come back in a big way. Like, a Grifter's Bones kind of way.

4. The principle of polarity

"Everything is dual; everything has poles; everything has its pair of opposites; like and unlike are the same; opposites are identical in nature, but different in degree; extremes meet; all truths are but half-truths; all paradoxes may be reconciled."

How many doppelganger stories have we had? How many stories about the missing part of you, the better version of you, the second half? Even with Celia, if everything has poles what if her poles exist across universes. That's why she's waking up random places, because the poles are attracting or repelling each other. If all paradoxes may be reconciled, what paradox is governing her life.

5. The principle of rhythm

"Everything flows, out and in; everything has its tides; all things rise and fall; the pendulum-swing manifests in everything; the measure of the swing to the right is the measure of the swing to the left; rhythm compensates."

Every story we hear about gambling has this principle in place. If someone is having too much luck with the dice, the dice compensate for it. If someone is having too much luck with betting on their own misfortune, the app compensates for it. It swings back and forth, good to bad to good to bad, perfectly balancing itself despite people's attempts to keep it swinging in their favor.

6. The principle of cause and effect

"Every cause has its effect; every effect has its cause; everything happens according to law; chance is but a name for law not recognized; there are many planes of causation, but nothing escapes the law."

I'm not completely sure how to connect this, but it does work sorta well with the gambling themes again? But also it fits with the things happening with Episode 7 and the random organization coming to kill the invasive species of volunteers. Not sure.

7. The principle of gender

"Gender is in everything; everything has its masculine and feminine principles; gender manifests on all planes."

Ok hear me out, this podcast is queer is fuck. Archives was queer but we have so much more representation of gender specific things like the nonbinary Ink5oul and our beloved trans girl Alice. The fact that there is legitimately a principle of gender in something connected to alchemy and we have even more gender representation is amazing. Still waiting for a genderfluid External, maybe one day. Or maybe we met them already and don't know.

Anyway that's what I've learned. If anyone has more information or ideas please share, I'm desperate for more information and ideas and theories.

[delta-pavonis]

(K)night Rhythms AU: Quaternion

banner by me (using 4D fractal art by Elsamuko)

Dreamling (drummer/dancer AU + king/knight AU) || Rated E || complete

Alternate Universe (fantasy), dancer!Dream, drummer!Hob, King!Dream, Knight!Hob, dom!Dream, sub!Hob, top!Hob, bottom!Dream, bet you didn't realize this was all in the same universe, established relationships, doppelganger, doppelcest, foursome - m/m/m/m, is fucking someone who looks like you masturbation or narcissism?, asking for a friend, BDSM, harness, bridle, pony play (eh, kinda), anal sex, dildos, anal plug, cock rings, cock & ball torture, rope bondage, orgasm delay/denial, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, exhibitionism, cock slut, ass to mouth, deepthroating, overstimulation, cowgirl position, rimming, cum eating, swordplay is foreplay, blow jobs, oral sex, rough oral sex, public blow jobs, finger sucking, coming in pants, additional warnings in author's notes on AO3

Read on AO3

For the Centennial Husbands Big Bang 2024! @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang Including FANTASTIC STUNNING ART by @ambarden for the Bang and more GORGEOUS AMAZING ART by @flaielis that was commissioned and completed last fall. I am overwhelmed by these works and I adore them to pieces.

[glockmonkey]

REASONS I THINK CHILCHUCK KNIT HIS OWN COWL/NECKWARMER:

knows how to mend clothing. doesnt find it weird to casually mend his own clothing. he starts sewing up his vest in the mimic episode IMMEDIATELY after it gets ripped.

father of three. again, experienced clothes mender, and possibly maker. could have picked up knitting for/from his family, or just for fun.

one of his daughters could have made it for him, so he wears it out of sentimental value; HOWEVER, I don’t know if he would bring something that important into the dungeon. something his daughters taught him how to make, however…

I think he let one of his daughters teach him how to knit. certified girldad.

lockpicking and knitting (and sewing and crochet) have really similar principles, which is “take small stick and use it to move other things around until something happens”. it’s mostly based on feel and rhythm. similar skillset!

i feel like chilchuck is a very restless person. hence, knitting idly. you know what people do in their downtime while sitting around a fire or to stay awake on night watch? some idle activity, like woodcarving. or knitting.

it’s not a scarf, it’s a COWL. chilchuck is at least fully aware that it’s not a scarf. he brings it up in the doppelganger episode. cowls are way more fun to knit than to actually wear, because they’re easy and versatile. 99% of popular ravelry patterns are cowls. knitters love to make cowls. theyre really fun, and usually pretty mindless.

chilchuck is also extremely stubborn, which means that if he went through the effort of making a cowl, he will wear that thing out of spite as much as humanly possible, even when it doesnt match his outfit at fucking ALL. it’s the ONLY colourful thing in his outfit. with a turtleneck and/or button up shirt. he literally never takes it off.

I will literally wear socks that I have knitted, which are a sensory nightmare, because they are SOCKS that i MADE.

someone’s gotta wear it, or itll have been made for nothing!! i cant just let it sit in my closet forever!! thats a waste of a perfectly good cowl!!

[blackjackkent]

Sleep

(Send me a pairing and a prompt)

Send me a "Sleep" and I'll write a drabble about one character watching the other sleep.

((TY for the prompt! :D You didn't specify a pairing, so I'm going with BG3 of course, and originally I was just going to default back to Hector/Karlach fluff since I'm such a sucker for writing that lately. But I decided to go off in a bit more random direction this time instead. XD Def welcome to request a more specific pair if you wanted one though!))

------

The camp is cold and full of strangers. Boo is fluffed up against the chill, and his small beady eyes peer out from the haze of golden fur into the darkness.

The Rashemaar is asleep, and Boo's vantage point subtly shifts up and down with each rise and fall of the man's chest. Is the hamster relieved to be back in his company, after their separation by the doppelgangers? Is there comfort in the warmth of his human flesh, steadier and more solid than any nest of shredded paper and straw?

Who can say? Boo keeps his own counsel.

Sometimes the Rashemaar shifts, rolls over in his sleep. Boo is quick to adjust, walking along the man's shoulder and side and coming to rest again on his back. He does not fear being crushed; he is nimble and quick and alert, and they have traveled many long years together. Perhaps Boo has come to learn the subtle shifts of breath that precede a shift in position; perhaps the hamster's very life is tuned to the rhythm of the man's heartbeat.

Or perhaps not. He is only a beast, after all.

A soft skittering sound breaks the silence. Boo's head twitches, his eyes piercing the dark and identifying the scuttling shadow of a rat crawling up from the dockways. A danger, maybe. An interloper certainly. Slowly Boo uncurls himself on Minsc's body, digging his claws into the human's shirt for leverage. The fluffed out silhouette of his fur compresses into sleek lines.

The rat draws nearer. It casts a long shadow in the lowering moonlight, a twitchy and unstable shape. It has scented the food in Minsc's pack, and it suspects no danger. It is a city creature that knows the meaning of a sleeping human.

It believes it is safe. And it is... from Minsc. But not from Boo.

The hamster leaps, without warning, without a sound. Though Boo has been known to echo his companion's battle cries with a loud squeak, his natural mode of attack requires no announcement. His claws sink into the rat's back and the rat squeals in sudden terror and pain. Its body lashes sideways; Boo holds on tightly at first, then deliberately releases his grip, allowing himself to be launched a foot or so away and land lightly on the cobblestones.

As the pain eases, the rat calms; it turns and glares at Boo with a hatred that, rodent to rodent, needs no translation. Boo stares back unblinking. The message is clear. The rat has stumbled into a territory not its own. If it knows what is good for it, it will leave.

The rat's long, muscular tail lashes as it briefly considers attack. But, despite having no tail, Boo's force of presence is much the stronger, and eventually the rat's head dips in submission. It turns and scuttles off into the darkness, back down the wall that leads to the wharf.

Boo squeaks softly, satisfied, triumphant. He kicks off from the stone floor to land on the mountainous bulk of his companion's body. Minsc stirs, mumbles something indistinct, but does not wake; with a soft grunt he rolls again and Boo makes another leap to avoid being pushed back to the ground, landing this time on the human's bald head. He is careful with his claws now, adjusting his weight so the points do not sink into the skin.

He settles down in this new position, his fur fluffing up around him again. And his eyes once again fix out in the dark, like a guard dog resuming its post.

Is it a gesture of protective loyalty to the man sleeping beneath him? A knowledge of kinship and camaraderie and the battles that lie ahead and behind, and the need for rest while the hour allows? Perhaps. Or perhaps it is merely the territorial instinct of a dumb beast to watch for threats when the sun is hidden.

Who can say? Boo keeps his own counsel.

[c0worker-bryce]

>[While you're out on the operating table, thoughts come to your empty mind, filling it with life, with memories.]

>[He's talking to you. Your face. Your everything.]

>[Pulling out a device, a loud BEEEEEEEEEEEP. a splitting pain in your head, like your head's being torn to pieces. It's so familiar]

>[You wake up on an operating table, continue your day, a mask hiding your features from those who don't want to see. You're assigned a number, a role, and then you're sent down.]

>[Walking through the darkness, something's stalking you. You can feel it in your bones. The very bones that turn rock hard, stiff, and make you drop to the floor from the weight. Branches of your flesh weave out of you, and in the hazmat suit's mask, you begin to vomit a thick, pulpy paste, as your lifted up by a clawed hand, watching the others stare in horror, before meeting the same fate. Red fills your vision, and you drown in your own mulched organs]

>[BEEEEEEEEEEEP]

>[You wake up on an operating table. Mask. Number. Working at the office, at a photocopier, when a horrible sound invades your mind. No time to run before the grey man, resembling the new guy runs in, shrieking, bones splitting open, a gaping ribcage. Red eyes stare at you. You can't run before the now massive monster grabs you, stuffing you down it's throat. You're gone before you make it down.]

>[BEEEEEEEEEEEP]

>[Wake up. Table. Mask. Number. Get in the hazmat suit, walking next to a man exactly like you. His voice is just like yours, same cadence and rhythm. Only the tone is shifted, so you two sound distinct. Get to floor 2, approach the hole with your guns ready. When you look inside, a large black hand grabs you, your ally, your copy shouts in terror as your head's crushed, and it gets out.]

>[BEEEEEEEEEEEP]

>[Wake up. Table. Mask. Number. Conflict. You're talking to him. The real one. Fighting. He tells you you're nothing compared to him. That you're just a doppelganger. You tear the mask from your face, and pull out your gun. He drops. Dead. You're free. You're the real one now. But still, that awful BEEEEEEEEEEEP fills your brain. Why? Why!? Your consciousness fades away, and the blue light on your neck turns red.]

>[You're one of them.]

>[You're just another copy.]

>[Another brick in the wall, cog in the machine. Nothing more.]

>[You're one of them.]

>[When you finally wake up, you're all alone. You're safe. No pain, the anesthetics helped with that. You're here now. On an operating table.]

>[There's something wrong though. Something tells you that whatever they did, it didn't help you. Something is still wrong. And still the memories scream to you. You're one of them.]

<[Bryce woke up from the awful nightmare. He looked around and felt incredibly paranoid. Is he getting his memories back...?]

<[no. These aren't his. These aren't his at all. He stayed there, waiting for someone. It didn't matter who, a nurse, a family member... Just someone]

I wanna go home....

[tsunagite]

Been in a slight art slump lately, but I’ll be okay.

[magemultifics]

Dark Samus Smut Piece

A/N: You're a wounded bounty hunter (not Samus, but part of the 3 samus joined up with in MP3)

Blood rushed to your side, impaled from an earlier fight, you felt dizzy in the cock pit of your ship. You heard the door to your ship open, with metal clad footsteps approaching your part in the ship. You knew you were fucked, it was the end, and you take notice of the phazon empowered being stalking towards you. It offered a hand, and once your visions blurriness started to fade you take note it was Samus' dark phazon infused doppelganger. You feared death you feared pain, you're not sure what this eldritch power could offer you, but you'll take what you can get and so you placed your bloodied hand in hers. The armored helm lowered itself Infront of you and cradled your face in a singular rough skinned hand before you felt her channel light traces of phazon into your bloodstream. Your labored breathing choked and intensified as your wounds stung, but they were closing, the shrapnel in your side slipping out of the wound. You can hear a distorted female voice crackling from inside the helm I can take away your pain if you'll let me take you in return. You vigorously nod, you have clue into her intentions of adding you to the hive mind, but it's a better fate than to be chewed up my space pirates. Dark Samus tilts her visor willingly then, curious. She rests her hands on each side of her helm before lifting it off of her head. What you were expecting was the half formed phazon monstrosity you'd heard samus fight the first time, but now before you is a woman of pale blue skin, dark veins running just under the skin. The under side of her black hair glows bright in phazon energy and her eyes, all three of them lock on to you. You tense up, your breathing accelerates, Dark Samus takes notice and leans in close, her glossy black lips pressed against your ear shhhhhh, I'll take care of you, mine now. Her lips trail down the column of your throat leaving wet sucking kisses against your skin. Dark Samus is quick to peel your armor off, her clawed fingers forming into smooth hands that run themselves through your hair soft her distorted voice trails off in fascination. Her thigh wedges itself between your legs and pressed firmly against your body suit right in the juncture of your thighs. Your breath picks up and you can feel the doppelganger's mouth tighten in a pleased smile. She moves her thigh, the thick alien texture of her suit rubbing you in a way you couldn't describe.

You feel your body suit tearing and take notice of the alien eldritch tearing your body suit with her hands. She curiously dips a finger into your arousal before bringing it up to her mouth, leaning back her face comes into view and you see her open her mouth in a brief flash of fang she pops the arousal coated finger into her mouth. Humming curiously her hand returns to that spot between your legs and sinks it in deeper, before curling it tightly. Your back arches breath hitching, you reach for Dark Samus to pull her in by the shoulders to get a firm anchor on reality. Dark Samus tilts her head curiously before joining her lips with yours, swallowing one of your shocked moans as she adds a second finger to curl alongside the first. She thrusts them in a jerky rhythm that has you shaking on her thigh curled against her front. Her glowing tongue prods at your lips and you let it in without a fight, earning a teasing hum from the other woman. Her tongue seemed a bit longer and much hotter than a typical one, and made its way across your own tongue and lathering it in metallic phazon saliva. You can feel the corruption take over you, slowly being absorbed into your body. You can only suck on her tongue and let out keening moans as her fingers thrust unrelentingly inside you and curl into that spongy bit that has you screaming into her mouth. She retracts her alien tongue a bit to kiss you normally (as normal as a radioactive eldritch being can get) before watching you come undone in her arms. A small smile pulls away at her lips, her yellow eyes flashing in hunger and fascination seeing you crumbling into a shaking mess in her arms.

Dark Samus wasn't finished, her body slinked lower as she lowered herself to place her head between your legs. You catch a glance of yourself in the ship's mirror, bright blue essence leaking from your mouth and spilling over your breasts. Your head feels fuzzy, the only clear feeling is the sensation of her tongue sliding past your folds delving farther than her fingers could go. You take a sharp breath as Dark Samus drags her thumb in slow circles around your clit, the overstimulation of your previous orgasm giving you a whole new feeling of shaky. Your thighs quiver around the alien's head, and she just lets out a haunting laugh, sending vibrations between your legs. Her tongue twists inside you, undoubtably lathering your walls in phazon infused liquids. You begin to reach a peak again, rocking your hips against the doppelgangers face, voice cracking with drawn out sighs, grunts, and moans of pleasure. You crest over the edge, waves of pleasure slamming you through and through, and you grip the woman's hair and pull her even closer between your legs her tongue thrusting through the after shocks before pulling out. Dark Samus makes her way up your body, taking each nipple into her mouth and hand briefly before meeting your lips in a kiss. You taste yourself on her lips as her tongue brushes yours. Another glance in the mirror shows phazon leaking out from between your legs, a weirdly satisfying feeling emerges from that sight alone. Dark Samus Pulls your shaking body into her arms, as you begin to lose consciousness.

Rest, you've earned it, my loyal pet.

A/N: Listen, late night monster fucking. I'm sexually attracted to becoming part of a hive mind stfu

[tweexcore-undrgrnd]

Do you know any bands similar to ATDI / or TMV :-(

I'm so shit at giving recommendations on account of the fact that I forget 99% of the stuff I like but I can give it a shot lol

atdi similarities:

The Fall Of Troy - similar in terms of rhythm / music but the vocals are a bit screamer/emo-accent-y at times! very refreshing. their 2005 album Doppelganger is one of my essentials. love it.

Fugazi. this one is obvious (I'm p sure it's mentioned that atdi took inspo from these guys), but honestly give them a try if you're not already familiar!!! you can definitely hear the likeness of ROC in their later albums like End Hits and Red Medicine!!!!!both of which I highly recommend to start with they're yummy as FUCK

ok these last two are less "they sound like" but a "it would make sense to like this too"

Mike Krol .... idk he's a little weird and atdi are loud sharp weirdos too so ya. try out the I Hate Jazz album

Quarry - idk the album Super Arcade reminds me of a really soft version of atdi, very chill if you just go with it.

- TMV RECS -

I'll be so for real I struggle to find shit that sounds like them/I don't even actively seek it out because they're enough of a mindfuck but here we go i guess. shorter because trying to describe prog is hard man

king crimson - haven't heard much but I definitely feel the same musical complexity and lyrical tripping with this as I do with TMV.

closure in Moscow - personally I can't listen to this band because some of it sounds so like Cedric's mannerisms i get freaked out but um from the few times I've heard their songs (esp like "the fool") I've gone "wow someone liked tmv". so. have a look there if you want. a bit more pop-y but that definitely doesn't take away from it. if you want to see Cedric's ghost listen to "Pink lemonade".

the sound of animals fighting - waowwwwwwwww. kinda like a mesh up of atdi/punk and prog elements. very important I'd say.

Alien chicks - OKAY I GOTTA INCLUDE THESE GUYS. they're not quite atdi vibes all the way so I guess this is the wild card of the tmv section. they're not long songs or super dramatic sung vocals but. the energy is exactly the same I'd say. imagine the eccentric slightly off-putting nature of volta shows, cedric climbing up on the stage railings, Omar throwing his guitar away to thrash and dance like it's oxygen to him. this is such an amazing band, and their tracks like Verbena Green, Cowboy and Candlestick Maker (my fave) totally scream weird insanity. phenomenally creative band. SORRY I HAVE A LOT TO SAY ABOUT THEM I saw them earlier this year and they're fucking amazing. paralyzing stage presence.

:3

thanks for indulging me in late night yap anon<3

[denimbex1986]

'The Timeless Child: It was the retcon that shook one of the oldest sci-fi fandoms in history. And, per the latest 60th-anniversary episode of Doctor Who, it’s here to stay. But by reckoning with its recent past, Doctor Who might be finally allowing itself to evolve in a really exciting and unexpected way.

Doctor Who’s most recent 60th-anniversary special, “Wild Blue Yonder,” is a terrific return to form for the show, with a tense, horror-tinged hour that drew from paranoid sci-fi classics like The Thing and the show’s own all-time great episode “Midnight.” While it was mainly a one-off adventure (the more cynical might call it a filler episode) that allowed the 14th Doctor (David Tennant) and Donna (Catherine Tate) to get back into their old rhythms, the episode made a few offhand references to the previous era under Chris Chibnall that suggests a significant new approach for returning showrunner Russell T. Davies’ era going forward...

Penned by Davies and directed by Tom Kingsley, “Wild Blue Yonder” follows the Doctor and Donna as they crash-land in a spaceship floating at the edge of the universe. When the repairing TARDIS suddenly takes off without them, they’re left to ponder the spaceship’s many strange mysteries: why is there a rusty robot moving very slowly down a very long corridor? What is that mysterious routine clanking sound? Where did all the life on the ship go? And who opened the escape door three years ago? When they find themselves facing off against sinister doppelgangers of themselves who seem intent on copying every aspect of their identity, the Doctor and Donna have to come to terms with their years apart, and the shadowy part of his past that the Doctor has been hiding from Donna.

But we, the audience, know what the Doctor has been hiding. The 13th Doctor discovered the real origins of their past in the extremely controversial 2020 episode “The Timeless Children,” which revealed that the Doctor was not in fact a Time Lord from Gallifrey, but an alien from an unknown region of the universe whose ability to regenerate was exploited to turn Gallifrey into the powerful empire that it became. It was a retcon of the Doctor’s origin that was so ill-received that the BBC had to issue an apology to upset viewers (an apology that doesn’t undo the damage of turning the Doctor into a Chosen One hero, but we can argue about that later). Many fans even speculated that Davies might do away with the Timeless Child origin altogether when he returned as showrunner, but the reference in “Wild Blue Yonder” not only cements it as canon, it makes it a pivotal part of the Doctor’s characterization going forward.

The reference takes place after the Doctor and Donna get separated while fleeing from the doppelgangers (who had grown to gigantic size in the show’s rare instances of true body horror), and the Doctor encounters Donna again. Or, at least, a Donna. While attempting to figure out whether either of them are real, Donna lets slip that in her brief transformation back into the Doctor-Donna in “The Star Beast,” she was able to access all of the Doctor’s memories over the past 15 years (we’re guessing this doesn’t include the four billion years spent in the confession dial in “Heaven Sent”). This includes the Doctor’s discovery that they are the Timeless Child, and the

“You don’t know who you are, do you?” Donna says, tapping into the Doctor’s biggest fear. Though this Donna was soon revealed to be the doppelganger, that doesn’t change the fact that this mysterious origin is something the Doctor is running from.

But the Doctor is forced to contend with the consequences of the Timeless Child again, when it’s revealed that this empty part of the universe resulted from the Flux, the cosmic weapon unleashed by the Doctor’s adoptive mother Tecteun, destroying half the universe. This is an intriguing bit of continuity for Doctor Who, a show that always took canon as more of a suggestion than a rule. If half the universe is destroyed, and the Doctor carries the burden of not having stopped the Flux, what could this mean for the Doctor’s characterization in the new Davies era? We saw Tennant whip out that good old angsty scream in “Wild Blue Yonder,” but could this mean that this guilt will carry over in Ncuti Gatwa’s 15th Doctor? And will the Doctor continue to go on adventures where he’s faced with the consequences of universe-altering events like Flux?

It’s an exciting prospect, considering that every new iteration of the Doctor has rarely felt like the same character — simply wiping the slate clean and moving on to the next adventure. And it’s an intriguing challenge for Davies, to deal with a universe that is decidedly smaller than it is and may be hurting from the Doctor’s failures. Everyone may not be happy that the Timeless Child is really, truly canon, but if it means that the Doctor has more emotional and cosmic challenges ahead of him, that might make it forgivable.'

[elcucuylover]

Planet KD736 Expedition

(Authors note:this was something original for a horror story contest, the original was at a 15000 word limit but I didn't win so I'm adding more to it and publishing it cause I can. This was inspired by an animation I saw on TikTok I really like it. This is mainly creature horror. :] Edit: this got heavily edited I reread it was horribly dry and boring so I re wrote it for the most part. Enjoy)

I thought my crewmates always exaggerated when saying I recklessly put myself in tough situations to prove myself. I never believed them, till now.

This root has been prodding into my back for well over an hour. I can't move away, or I'll be completely submerged in the water. My thigh is a swollen red balloon of pain and irritation.

These flies won't leave me be, buzzing in my ear every five seconds and swarming around my wound. I'm being cooked alive inside this suit- more like being boiled with how much water it's absorbing.

My head hurts, my flashlight is dying and I don't understand a single thing about this stupid planet. I'm sure I'm gonna get yelled at for this but I rather that than being stuck here any longer.

This swamp has an unpleasant citrus smell. This tree is the only thing keeping me afloat in this muck.

My arms ache, too tired of holding myself up in this mud ridden, torn suit that's gaining more weight the longer I'm here, it's amazing I'm able to hold half my body up. I can only observe the large almost gator-like creatures in the waters.

They seem mostly docile, their beady glass eyes reflecting my bleak face. The stalking birds in the trees, their prying claw waiting for a taste of my flesh when I long pass. Thousands of little chirps and croaks emitting all around me.

I'm going to die of boredom by the time the my team gets here. My headache and anxiousness were starting to create a soft beating under my eye. I created a rhythm to the pattern of the animal sounds I heard. It was comforting.

Suddenly there was an overwhelming smell of something awful. It smelt like something rotting and burning, I could feel the remains of my breakfast stirring in my stomach. And the moment I opened my eyes something hit the water.

I could feel the water thrashing me around, almost making me lose my grip on the tree. I lifted my head and looked around to see what was going on. The smell moved on and only its memory lingered, something was off but I couldn't place it.

I saw nothing. The animals didn't seem to care. So clearly whatever it was wasn't a danger to them, meaning it wasn't a danger to me.

I thought, trying to downplay the situation as much as possible."It was probably just a branch falling in the water... it was a branch." Clearly i was scared and panicking.

Jesus this place was going to give me the biggest migraine ever.

After going over the rhythm in my head about 500 times. I thought I was going to go insane and that these animals wouldn't shut up.

So the abrupt silence immediately caught my attention. Everything going silent, trying their best to go unnoticed. Is never a good sign, especially since they were doing a much better job than me; a sense of nausea started creeping in.

It was like a wave washing over me. I looked up to figure out why everything was so eerily quiet. The gator doppelgangers were nowhere to be found, the birds were gone, the water was still and every little noise disappeared.

Yet I was not alone. I could feel it. A deep, heavy pit in my stomach grew, warning me. About something in front of me that I couldn't see.

I remembered all the stories I would hear about people's instincts warning them about places or people. I always wanted to know how it felt if it was a rush or a sudden want to be invisible. I never considered the possibility that it was an immediate flurry of thoughts swarming your mind screaming at you to run.

But there was no ground to run on.

Jesus I can't even see the thing making me feel like this. I looked up, I can only try to get further up the tree. The branches were higher than I could jump even without the thousand-pound suit and my busted-up leg.

I repositioned my hands trying to be able to support my weight despite their exhaustion. I figured if I could get myself on the giant root I had my hand on, I could sit there and rest.

I was going to treat this thing like it was any other animal. It was the only logical thing I could think of, to move slowly and cautiously. I rather take the safer option than trying to make myself seem like a bigger threat, I just be the bigger idiot if I did.

I managed to push myself off the root and raise myself slightly, while keeping my movements slow, which was much harder than I thought it would be. I tried to keep my eyes in the direction of whatever was in front of me, and behind me.

Taking my eyes off of it is a mistake. Something inside myself shouted that just I felt soft ripples in the water fight against my waves. I whipped my head up and froze where I was. My chest tightened and my eyes widened as I could feel the thing move in the water. The waves moved to my left, before I couldn't feel them any more.

It was behind me. I imagine it circling me, like I was its prey. If I'm not then I have no idea what else it would consider me. I tried to look at my left, my right, even behind the tree. I didn't know where it was anymore. That pit in my stomach exploded into full-fledged panic.

I didn't even try to move quietly anymore, I pulled myself up as much as I could and moved toward the large root. I was gonna make it! My panic turned to hope. I was going to be out of the water, my arms could rest, I could finally rest! I felt the soft ripples of the water on my right and hurried up my ascent when the feeling of something slimy, soft, and heavy brushed against my hand.

Quickly moving down to my fingers. I moved before I could think. I yanked my hand away, a sudden clamp pressed down on my finger. It was wet and hard yet smooth. It pressed hard into my finger the pain felt like my finger was being pulled off. I yelped and pushed my hand on the tree to pull away.

My force pushed me off the tree as it released my finger, gravity pulled me down into the water. If it wasn't for the stupid root snagging onto me, I may as well drowned myself. My torso was still above the water but my legs were now fully submerged and so was my wound. The water didn't sting, but bite marks on my finger did. It broke through the skin, but was a miracle it wasn't broken.

I grabbed my flashlight, thanking the lord that the small string tying it to my waist didn't snap. I couldn't risk holding it. My light floated on the water and put my hand in front of it. Not including my finger, nothing was on my hands. No moles, cysts, cuts, nothing. Only the stomach aching thoughts of what infections I'd possibly get.

I kept my flashlight on despite its constant flickering. Anything that moved or made a sound I shined my light on. I gave myself a migraine and was shaking every second. I wasn't sure if it was because of the idea of thousands of little bugs crawling on me or if I was starting to become hypothermic.

My light started to go out on me. I shut it off hoping to conserve it and gathered up my courage to place my hand back on the tree. The root prodded into me as I lifted myself. This suit is really heavy now. I'm tired, I still don't hear the regular animals around me anymore but I couldn't help but be nervous.

I decided to give my hand a break and tried to contact the rescue team. "Hey...Are- are you guys here yet or are you guys still in orbit?" I waited for minutes, but nothing.

"Hey! Answer me, did you guys land yet?...Please tell me yes." Another five minutes and a response. "Found some of your equip - idiot why - do-." Thank god, they were breaking up but it didn't matter, I was being saved.

"Hurry up, I'm cold and hungry." I exasperated with a chuckle."Freakin- should leave- tay hungry." I felt at ease hearing their angry voices. I could perfectly imagine the face they were making. I closed my eyes, feeling more at ease but that unnerving feeling was still running rampant in me. I counted like I would when I was a kid to calm myself more I barely made it past 20 when I felt something drip on me.

Is it raining? I opened my eyes and saw no rain. Even the firefly's were gone but that horrid smell was completely engulfing me, I could taste my breakfast in my mouth, I coughed it back and started to breath through my mouth. Another two drips fell, I looked up sick and confused.

I fixated into the void black sky trying to see what was dripping. I squinted up into the tree and saw something, something big, quickly speeding across the dense branches. The leaves trembled, as blood-draining bleating could be heard accompanied by the thumping of the tree. The leaves fell down on me as it speed over my head.

A huge splash could be heard as it jumped into the water. I panicked and reached for my flashlight. I fell into the water. The only thing keeping my head above water was the root, ripping into my suit and gauging itself into my back.

I groaned in pain but quickly changed my focus to looking for that thing. I saw nothing, the dim silence surrounding me made me lose whatever clarity I had. I was panicking. I could barely catch my breath. My eyes stung as tears fell.

I wanted to be saved. "Where are you guys!?" I shouted into the radio, my voice cracked. My fear and pain mixing into my voice. With the last flickers of my light, I saw a mop of hair rise in the water, at least 30 feet away. It was thick and messy, it smelt horrible and I had the nagging feeling that there was more than I could see.

I the air left my lungs as the mane slowly moved towards me then disappeared as it dived further into the water in front of me.

My eyes wide and full of anticipation couldn't follow it anymore as it disappeared underneath me. I frantically searched over the water for my crew. My breath was shallow and could bearly stay in my lungs long enough before I started hyperventilate. "Oh god, please I can't-".

I stuck my light under the water to see where it was. Then the flickering quickly turned to darkness. I cried out and desperately tried to reach for the roots again. I managed to barely touch them. I need to get closer. I felt like dying every time the branch even slightly shifted but given the circumstances, I would actually die if I didn't endure this pain.

I pushed myself to the trunk, the root going deeper into my back, expanding its presence to the left side of my body. I stifled my scream to a guttural groan and clenched my hand onto the tree. Tears blurred my vision as I grabbed my flashlight and reached for the end of the branch.

Something slithered on my hands again and the horrible smell wafted into my face. I felt like gagging the moment I noticed it. I continued to reach over the branch even through the reoccurring pain on my finger reminding me of what the last time I did this. But my life is worth more than my fingers. I finally was able to put both my arms over the root, I sighed and laid then with tears and a smile.

I saw something piercing through the water. I squinted my eyes as I raised my head away from the water. I made out two white rimmed pupils looking at me, mimicking me. I moved to the left and it glided in the water to look me dead in the eyes. I watched in horror as it slowly disappeared into the water.  I shuddered as the smell grew. I looked around trying to find out where the mane of hair was.

Then I saw it, 20 may 15 feet away. I turned my body to it, locking onto it. I grimaced as it disappeared again, I looked into the water trying to follow it as the smell didn't leave with it. I looked down in front of me, little movement by my legs caught my eyes. My breath caught in my throat as I saw a jaw with pristine white teeth trying to nibble at my suit getting closer to my flesh.

It didn't belong to any skull but some extended muscle like tendril. I moved my leg away and it pulled back. I waited for what seemed like only a minute before I could hear something, something big, quickly rise out of the water. I didn't even see what it was before it slammed into me, smacking me away from tree.

I was thrusted away from my only hope and propelled back into that stupid twig. The root broke off and stuck itself into my back. I cried out and reached for the rest of the branch that was left. My body bobbed in the water as I sobbed out for my friends to come and get me. I could feel blood coming out of my fingers as the pain beat down on me like wave.

I sniffled when I heard the familiar static of my radio. I reached for it only to feel emptiness. I searched around for it only to find that it was out of my reach. Floating on the water.

"Yo- where are you? We can't see you, shine your light." My smile broke through as I heard those words. I grabbed my light and quickly turned it off and on twice. My pain started to wash away into sickening fear and anxiety, it wasn't turning on anymore. I sobbed out pleading with whatever forced played over my life to not to kill me here. Then soft motor started to muffle over my sobs and flashing lights blinded my eyes instead of my tears. The boats. I could see our boats.

"Kaya! I'm here! Please! oh god thank you! Kaya! Kaya! Over Here Please!" I shouted, my voice was loud and full of pain. Full of relief. Full of fear. Filled with hope. I was finally going to get out of the water. I would be safe. I splashed my hand against the water making as much noise as possible. I joy over took my mind as all the lights turned over to me.

"There's something in the water!! Get me out! Please!" I saw the angry face of Kaya sticking the middle finger at me, but it quickly turned to shock. My face was full of fear and blood and sweat, the water around was dyed red and my suit was torn. I be horrified if I saw myself too.

I rested my head on my hands and chuckled a cry. Thank you, god. I felt grateful to the tree, to the root. Even though it was the main source of my pain it was the only comfort I had, the only thing keeping me safe. Keeping water out my lungs.

I looked back up with the largest smile. Then my gut rushed up to my throat as that disgusting smell wafted in the air. I covered my mouth to stop my self from throwing up and panicking. It was back. "Kaya! Kaya hurry!!" I saw his face suddenly in pure shock then he opened his mouth to say something, pointing out in the water but I couldn't hear it. I couldn't even see him properly, he was just a shining light.

A shooting pain was going through my entire body, my eyes were blurred and felt something thick was spilling on my face. I raised my hand to feel what it was but something overtook my arm. My shoulder was aching then suddenly burning. It was burning so bad I felt like I was on fire. I looked down and the root was pushed through my shoulder. I gasped out of pain as my breath couldn't be caught.

I looked up at Kaya, fearfully, painfully wanting him to save me. He was yelling something but all I could hear was a ringing. And that smell was so over bearing I couldn't even breath. When suddenly I couldn't see him anymore, I couldn't see anything.

I couldn't breathe either, all I felt was water and thick slimy hair tangling itself on my arms and legs. I screamed out and pulled against it. I was exhausted, the root was still in my back and now my shoulder. My leg was aching every time I moved. The suit wasn't any help either, the hair started to get tangled up with it. My head started to feel light and it feels like a match was lit in my throat as if smoke filled my lungs. I was going to drown.

I grabbed at my throat, I didn't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I wrapped my hands against the hair and pulled it off, I raised and stretched my legs farther than its hair could. My lunges started to burn it felt like they were about to explode. I freed myself and struggled to swipe, my muscles were screaming for me to stop. I kept moving up, I could see their lights shining in the water. I kept swimming up with just my arms and a single leg.

I felt something sharp dig itself into my leg and break apart in me. I screamed and looked down trying to pull it out. Suddenly something bite me. I pulled back and tried again but something kept biting me. I was running out of air, I reached down not caring about the biting anymore. My vision was starting to get blocked as the water got darker when I grasped whatever was in my leg.

I felt tears get wiped away by the water as I cried in pain, when i started to pull. Suddenly it felt like a searing hot iron was pressed into my leg as I pulled it out. I didn't give myself time to think before my body starting to swim up. Then I grabbed at my throat. I started to let water into my mouth. Then I passed out.

I suddenly didn't feel like swimming anymore, I'm in so much pain. I'm so tired.

I opened my eyes and before i can even regain consciousness I started to choked up water. I gasped for air and cried out as i doubled over in pain. I looked up to see Kaya he was soaking wet, and cry. I was in shock but suddenly I started to hear everything all at once.  The motor running, their loud yelling, the wind beating. I cried out and cover my ears.

Everyone was scrabbling around and the wind was still beating on me as we speed through the swap. They took the suit off me. It was like pounds of weight being shed. They quickly got to addressing my wounds, I could bearly feel anything I couldn't even hear them.

They were talking to me, putting pressure on my shoulder, dumping alcohol on my leg, showcasing my bone, they didn't touch the branch borrowed into my back but kept wincing at its sight. Trying to stop the blood loss the best they could.

I could barely move. I felt something move in my leg, I looked down. I saw something small, wriggle around. I shuddered and almost screamed out when I saw it. Then I felt a slight burn, it slowly build back my muscles. I jolted up and shivered, I looked around no one saw it. I studied it some more and covered it with my arm.

I calmed my heart, and looked up at Kaya. He looked different, in fact the world looked different, a different shade of color. Kaya held my hand and brushed my hair back and took care of the wound on my forehead. I looked down on my leg and saw more of the worm like things, I felt squeamish. But chuckled slightly when I couldn't see my bone any more.

I looked up at Kaya and smiled slightly. "I'll be just fine... We can all rest." He flashed me a smile but was stiff. "Yeah.. we can rest soon. Look the ships over there, you're gonna feel better in a bit I promise." I looked over and saw the ship. A smile creeped onto my face, tears wet my face. "All of us will rest soon."