#az thoughts

"make a dildo out of a mold of your cock so even when you're not there it's still only you who gets to fuck them"

Intimate. Like breathing through another’s lungs, or cradling a different kidney just under your ribs. Like watching the crimson flow steadily into your veins from a blood bag, with the full understanding that another human being breathed life into you, sustained you, saved you. And your body opens up to it, welcoming the foreign body into you.

V1 is left-heavy. The weight of the knuckle-blaster sways him off balance before it makes haste corrections. Running through diagnostics, it realizes the left-over pieces of code embedded in the arm fit perfectly into itself. The differences negligible. Its body welcomes her.

Probably because they are twins, in a way. Born from the same makers, runs on the same core codes, operates the same frame. It feels natural to wield the limb. Its body can’t tell where one begins and the other ends.

It can’t even tell where the boundary of itself lies even if it tries.

It may be her code seeping through its mainframe, but V1 swears that it sees V2 in the liminal space between one moment and the next. A ghost-like thing – fuzzy around the edges and gaseous. Always between the light and the dark. Always just out of distance enough to dance around the edges of its vision.

The shape is blurry, but the soft piercing glow of V2’s optic can’t possibly be false. It can’t possibly be flawed.

The red haunts it now. There is something about killing a being so similar to itself.

Siblicide. Suicide.

It glances at the reflection in the water, bathed in blood, and sees no difference from the image of its counterpart.

V1/V2 thinks in their minds. We will never be gone.