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#k short story
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this is so awesome. no more tv no more shows, lets all start reading books again. booktok losers dni
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ruinedholograms · 3 months
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Frozen Journey (1980)
Art by Pater Sato
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chicafinal · 2 months
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what if this was my last straw
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tsaomengde · 8 months
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The Ones Who Found The City
Ursula K. LeGuin's "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" is a classic short story, and obviously I knew of it, but I'd never actually read it until recently. Well, I finally got around to it, and as many timeless classics do, it got stuck in my brain. This story is my - response? homage? sequel? pale imitation? - to it. I suggest you go and read "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" if you haven't. Not because it's actually required reading for this story - I think it stands on its own more or less okay - but because it is a classic for a reason.
---
Initially, no one is quite certain of what they’ve found when the Animus breaches the next manifold layer.  This is in and of itself expected, of course.  Exploring psychspace is by its very nature an unpredictable venture.  Each of the various infinite layers is unique and bizarre in its own way, reflecting the archetypal underpinnings of an entire species present, past, or future across an infinitude of possible realities.  The crew of the Animus, therefore, has seen things so utterly alien and inexplicable that only the rigors of their training and the care put into their psychic warding saved them from insanity.
It is somewhat disappointing, then, to find that this sub-domain is just a city.  Definitely not Terranic, certainly not, but still following the Terranic modality, with no more than a seven-degree quantum drift.
“Towers,” Thromby says into the recorder as they sit at their post at the nose of the Animus’s command center.  “Following the standard skyscrape pattern.  Unclear if they’re domiciles or business centers or both.  Coastal city, bay appears to be oceanic rather than lake.  Pleasing blend of urbanization with natural setting.”  They glance at Vigil.  “Anything on the lifescope?”
Vigil shakes his head.  “Nothing.  It’s empty.  Totally empty.”
“That’s odd,” Katrina speaks up from the helm.  “The city doesn’t show signs of decay or reclamation by nature.”
“Entropy may not work in the usual way in this sub-domain,” Teasha reminds her.  “The city itself could be the natural growth, reclaiming the artificial countryside.  We’ve seen things like that before.”
Thromby feels Katrina’s unconscious bristling at the subtle reminder that she is the newest member of the crew and thus less experienced in the vagaries of psychspace than everyone else.  Next to Vigil, who is only nineteen, she is also the youngest.  “I would expect,” Katrina says, her voice cool, “that in a sub-domain so obviously based on human archetypes, entropy and nature-versus-civilization tropes would function more or less as usual.”
“I’m certain you would,” Teasha replies, her voice equally cool.  “When you’ve been at this as long as me and Thromby, you’ll learn better.”
“Enough of that,” Thromby says before Katrina can reply.  They love Teasha, but she tends to be too harsh on new crewmembers.  A defense mechanism, they know, to insulate her from the all-too-common pain of losing them.  But Katrina has too much to prove.  The clash is natural and to be expected, and even useful at times, but now is not one of them.  “Vigil, get me readings on atmosphere, microbiome, and psychic radiation, if any.  Katrina, pick a spot on the coast and bring us down there.  I want to see if the ocean is actually an ocean or a liminality representation.  Teasha, get the Animus tuning to this sub-domain’s resonance frequency.  I don’t want any dissociation issues.”
The orders are mostly unnecessary, since everyone already knows what they’re about, but they serve their intended purpose, which is to re-focus everyone on the task at hand and redirect their nervous energies, particularly Katrina’s.  Thromby still isn’t sure she’s going to make the cut after this expedition is over, but there’s potential there.  They would be foolish to ignore someone with Katrina’s strength of identity grounding. 
There are plenty of sub-domains out there where it’s useful to be entirely certain of who you are, and not everyone can be.
---
The first day’s worth of exploration yields more questions than answers, which is normal and expected.  Thromby is indeed certain that Katrina’s initial assumption that this is a human-archetypal sub-domain is correct.  Human atmosphere, human shadow- and ontological concepts, Terranic fish in the very-real ocean.  But the iconography is sparse and mostly nonsensical.  It’s clear that the city was able to actually function as a city, but it feels purposeful, designed, in a way that actual cities outside psychspace rarely do.
“It’s a metaphor,” Vigil says as they sit around a campfire on the beach after the first day.
“Well, obviously,” Katrina agrees, and Vigil lights up – both visibly and psychically – at her concordance.  Thromby knows Vigil has been nursing burgeoning feelings for Katrina since she joined them, and has so far seen no need to make anything of it.  “But a metaphor for what?”
“We don’t have enough data,” Vigil replies.  “But I’m certain of it.  We just need to keep exploring.”
Thromby takes a bite of the fish they’ve been roasting over the fire.  It’s a pleasant change of pace to be able to eat something real, instead of the platonic nourishment suggestions dispensed by the Animus.  “Agreed.  I’m curious to see what the point of this place was.  We have five more days before we have to resurface and the expedition has been quite successful already.  I think we can spare the time.  Teasha?”
Taking a bite of her own fish, Teasha purses her lips as she chews.  “I concur, but I’m uneasy.”
Teasha is their psychometry specialist, so this makes all of them sit up a little straighter.  “Are we in danger?” Katrina asks.
“Of course we’re in danger, we’re in psychspace.  But in this particular sub-domain?  Metaphorical danger, as Vigil says.  Ideological or memetic patterning rather than physical.”
Thromby nods.  “I suspected that might be the axis of it, here.  We will need to split up to cover the necessary ground in the time we have left, so everyone stays in contact while exploring.  Mechanical and psychic.  No exceptions.”
None of them are particularly happy with this pronouncement, but they see the wisdom of it.  It’s distracting and somewhat draining to keep a four-way psychic connection going, especially over distance, but their implanted transceivers sometimes don’t function properly, depending on the sub-domain.  Electromagnetism and causality both seem to be standard here, but such things have been known to change in an instant depending on whether the sub-domain is actively malicious or not.
Thromby doesn’t feel any such malice here, though.  That doesn’t mean it isn’t present; such things are often quite good at hiding themselves.  But they’ve been exploring psychspace for seventy-eight years subjective.  They’ve learned to trust their instincts.
---
Two more days of exploration are frustratingly unrevealing.  The city is the size of a proper metropolis, and they know it will be impossible to actually explore any significant percentage of it in only a few days, but Thromby is still irritated by their lack of progress.  They find evidence of cultural signifiers, rituals, and traditions, but again, the iconography is vague and appears opaque to standard Jungian-Jingweian analysis.
Teasha spends the two days on a different investigative track than the rest of them.  “Psychometrically speaking the city is remarkably healthy,” she said on the morning of their second day.  “Most locations, metaphorical or otherwise, bear the echoes of trauma or strife, but this place seems to have been almost entirely peaceful.  Totally voluntary anarcho-communism or ordnung-socialism, perhaps, without the usual markers of systemic violence inherent to capitalistic or fascistic systems.  But there’s a thread somewhere that I keep detecting the edges of.”
“A thread of what?” Thromby asked.
“Pain, of course.”
It is on the evening of their third day in the city that Teasha calls them to her.  She uses their transceiver link rather than a psychic summons.  “To avoid contamination,” she explains.  “I’ve found the source of the thread.  Double your usual wardings and enter seclusive patterning before you come inside.”
Thromby does so, of course, though they dislike cutting themselves off from their extrasensory perception.  It feels like trying to see with only one eye.  When they arrive at Teasha’s location, however, they immediately understand why she insisted on it.  The possibility of psychic contamination here is very high.
“What is this?” Katrina asks, holding her nose in disgust.
“The point of the metaphor, of course,” Teasha replies.  She indicates the filthy cellar in which they’ve found themselves, the only part of the city so far that has seemed actively decrepit.  “I guarantee you that even if we spent the rest of our lives exploring this city we would find only this one place showing any signs of entropy.”
The cellar stinks of excrement, a combination of ammonia and fetid shit, despite the physical processes creating such smells having terminated long ago.  The floor is dirt.  There are no windows.  In one corner there are two mops, their heads stiff with drying waste, and a bucket, the metal bands around its circumference orange with rust.
“They concentrated all of the city’s entropy into a single space?” Vigil asks.
“Not entropy,” Teasha tells him.  “Cruelty.”
Katrina gapes, her hand falling away from her nose for a moment.  “Come again?”
“Something lived here,” Teasha explains to her.  “Or, more precisely, was forced to live here.  It functioned as a psychic magnet, of sorts.  The functioning of the city relied entirely upon its imprisonment and use as a scapegoat.”
“What was it?” Vigil asks.
“One of the innocence-sacrifice archetypes.  An animal or a child.  I suspect a child; an animal can feel pain and misery, certainly, but it doesn’t conceive of injustice in the same way a child does.”
Thromby feels their stomach turn a little.  “Ah.  I see.”
“See what?” Katrina demands.
“The point of the metaphor indeed,” Thromby replies.  “This entire city and all its inhabitants, predicated on the suffering on a child.  It’s a morality construct, and a good one, too.”
“A good one?” Vigil asks.  “It’s grotesque.”
“Your deontological leanings are showing,” Katrina tells him.  “From a utilitarian perspective it’s perfect.  Nothing exists without imposing an energy burden on the system in which it exists.  Even the nourishment suggestions the Animus feeds us in liminal space between manifolds is distilled from universal krill.  But this?  The concentration of all of a society’s utility burden onto a single individual.  The ultimate maximization principle.”
“And your teleological leanings are showing,” Teasha sniffs.  “You’re missing the point of the metaphor entirely, Katrina.  It isn’t about utility.  It’s about cruelty.  The cruelty is the point.”
Katrina’s nostrils flare and Thromby cuts in before she can start really arguing.  “Enough,” they say.  “A conflict here in this space could be dangerous.  We’re at the focus of the sub-domain and things have a way of rippling.  We’ve discovered the point of the metaphor, so we can go back to the Animus and leave in the morning.”
Both Katrina and Teasha look ready to argue the point with them, but then they master themselves and both nod.
“Do we have to wait until morning?” Vigil asks, looking around the cellar in transparent disgust.  “I would prefer to leave sooner rather than later.”
“You know the rules,” Thromby replies.  “We don’t transit without everyone being rested.  A tired mind is a vulnerable mind.”
Reluctantly, Vigil nods, too.  The four of them walk away from the cellar, their thoughts opaque to one another.
---
Thromby is jolted out of sleep by Teasha screaming.
They sit bolt upright and look down at Teasha in the bed next to them.  She is clutching at her head, shaking, writhing beneath the sheets.  “Teasha!” Thromby snaps.  “Focus!  Center yourself!”  They grab her by the wrists and pry her hands from her face; her nails are leaving bloody marks in her skin.
“Too much, it’s too much!” she shrieks.  “I’m lost!”
Thromby forces their way into her mind.  She previously gave them her consent for this, knowing that it might be necessary in a moment like this one.  What they see there –
“Aquinas,” they say aloud.  The implants in Teasha’s cochlear nerves pick up on the trigger word and activate, sending the kill-signal to other implants deeper within her brain.  She stops screaming and slumps, unconscious, temporarily brain-dead.  When Thromby says the word again she will be switched back on, but for the moment she is safe from the psychic contamination that was attacking her along her psychometric vector.
Which, of course, means that Thromby has to deal with this issue alone.
They dress quickly and exit the Animus into a beautiful summer day.  Pennants and banners wave atop the rigging of ships in the harbor, bells sound from the city, and people, so many people, cavort and revel on the beach, in the waves, in the streets.  There is laughter, merriment, the intoxicating psychic swell of happiness and excitement.  Thromby threads their way through the crowds in the streets – mothers carrying their infants, children running through the streets in elaborate games of some variation of Terran tag, huge parades of horse-drawn carts with animalistic balloon totems floating in the air above them.  Vendors call out to Thromby, offering delicious food, intricately made jewelry, amazing clockwork-mechanical toys, sensory-enhancing drugs, and a thousand other variegated temptations.  Street musicians play upon cunningly crafted instruments – strings, pipes, percussion, keys – and revelers cavort to the tunes.
Thromby can feel the bright sparks of all of these people in their mind.  These are real, thinking, feeling beings.  They belong to the metaphor, certainly, but Thromby could speak to them, touch them, verify their self-consciousness and interiority, even invite them to come and join them onboard the Animus and explore psychspace.  They could bring them up into the real, return home with them, have a life with them.  That is how it has to be, of course.  Thromby knows they themself may belong to a different metaphor of a different order, after all.  The real is only real because enough people agree it is.
But they do none of these things.  They just walk, stolidly, back to where they know they have to go.
Katrina is waiting for them outside the cellar, barring the way in.  Thromby has their wards up at triple strength and has been in seclusive patterning since before leaving the Animus, but they don’t need to be psychic to read her mind.  Everything she is feeling and thinking is there in plain sight – the proud and defiant way her chin is thrust out, the blaze in her eyes, the way she has her arms crossed and feet at shoulder width.  She is ready to fight.
“Let me through,” Thromby says without preamble.
“No.”
Well, that’s their respective positions, Thromby thinks, articulated clearly and easily enough.  “Why not?” they ask.
“Vigil consented.”
“Vigil is in love with you and you know as well as I do that consent is a matter of framing,” Thromby snaps.  “Move.”
“No.  I explained everything to him and he consented.  It has nothing to do with whatever feelings he might have for me.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it, but fine.  For the sake of argument, tell me how you explained it.”
Katrina hesitates, and Thromby can tell she wasn’t expecting them to actually offer her a chance to proselytize.  “The point of the metaphor is that no matter how great and beautiful the society, if it’s predicated on cruelty, it’s unjust,” she says.  “Deontological thinking, obviously, but cruelty is by definition nonconsensual.  I explained to Vigil that if he allowed it, we could collaboratively put blocks in his mind, purposefully regress him to a childlike mental state, and put him in the cellar to suffer for a specific length of time.  Then we can pull him back out, remove the blocks, and even erase the memories of the trauma.  The child-Vigil won’t, can’t, consent, but it also won’t exist for more than a day, and pragmatically speaking never will have.”
Thromby massages their temples.  “Congratulations.  Once again, you have missed the point of the metaphor.”
“Damnit, Thromby, I’m not a child!  I have the same training and grounding in theory that you and Teasha do.  Everything I’m doing is teleologically sound, and Vigil agreed that with the steps we’re taking –”
“You’re trying to outsmart it,” Thromby cuts her off.  “That’s how I know you’ve missed the point.  You can’t outsmart this, Katrina.  There is no perfect set of circumstances you can construct to get around the simple fact that this city functions, exists, because of deliberate and terrible cruelty.  That’s the entire point of it, just like Teasha said.  Teasha, who, by the way, is currently in a coma.  I had to put her into it to keep Vigil’s misery from damaging her.”
“It’s a thought experiment,” she argues, obviously not addressing the point about Teasha because she knows she won’t win that argument.  “There’s always a correct answer for them.  The trolley, the Gettier, the –”
“It’s about fucking sin,” Thromby sighs.
“Are you joking right now?  You’re going back to the religious well?”
“Yes, because that’s what’s happening right now.  The city is a sin, Katrina.  The excesses of its beauty, its wonder, its perfection, are obscene precisely because of how and why they function.  It’s rooted in the ideology of disgust and taint.  Utility, teleology, all of these justifications and rationalizations exist and have their use, but at the end of the day, answer me one question: will you trade places with Vigil?”
Katrina hesitates.
It’s only a bare moment, less than a second, even, but it’s there.  And Thromby sees it, and Katrina sees it.
“Yes,” she says, finally.
“I knew that would be your answer.  But you know that the answer doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Katrina lowers her head.  “No.”
“You know why you hesitated.”
“Yes.”  She looks back up at them.  “But – there’s no such thing as absolute morality, any more than there’s a single objective reality.”
“Of course there isn’t.  And yet, you hesitated.”
They just lock eyes for a few seconds.  Then she lowers her gaze again.  “And yet, I did.”
Thromby steps past her and opens the cellar.
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rustchild · 9 months
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one of the wild things about people’s stubborn insistence on misunderstanding The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas is that the narrator anticipates an audience that won’t engage with the text, just in the opposite direction. Throughout the story are little asides asking what the reader is willing to believe in. Can you believe in a utopia? What if I told you this? What about this? Can you believe in the festivals? The towers by the sea? Can we believe that they have no king? Can we believe that they are joyful? Does your utopia have technology, luxury, sex, temples, drugs? The story is consulting you as it’s being told, framed as a dialogue. It literally asks you directly: do you only believe joy is possible with suffering? And, implicitly, why?
the question isn’t just “what would you personally do about the kid.” It isn’t just an intricate trolley problem. It’s an interrogation of the limits of imagination. How do we make suffering compulsory? Why? What futures (or pasts) are we capable of imagining? How do we rationalize suffering as necessary? And so on. In all of the conversations I’ve seen or had about this story, no one has mentioned the fact that it’s actively breaking the fourth wall. The narrator is building a world in front of your eyes and challenging you to participate. “I would free the kid” and then what? What does the Omelas you’ve constructed look like, and why? And what does that say about the worlds you’re building in real life?
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justabeautifulgirl · 4 months
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Your dad looks at your lips, they were so much like your mothers. You stare at him wondering what he's thinking. He's kind of handsome, the thought strikes you although it's not like you haven't thought about it before. He leans back breaking the tension of the moment and you startle, noticing you had unknowingly leaned closer to him. Embarrassed you get up and leave. Later that night you were still in your room and your dad knocks on your door. You tell him to come in and you can immediately tell he's drunk, your lights are off but you see him swaying slightly in what little daylight is left streaming through the window. He sits on your bed and you sit up next to him. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and you lean into him. He smells good. His arm comforting you, you look up and see his eyes were sad but there was something else there, maybe, love.....lust? You quickly lean in and kiss him, his stubble rubbing against your face. He tastes like bourbon and his hands come up to the back of your head as he leans deeper into the kiss. "I love you." you mumble into him. You throw your leg over him and straddle his lap. You can feel his cock pushing against the seam of his pants hard.
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shady-tavern · 10 months
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Missing Piece
@piperjistic had asked for a forest spirit and while this isn't fully in line with your request, I still hope you'll like it!
Minor warnings ahead for non-graphic violence and a wee bit of body-horror towards the end, though it doesn't happen to the main character. Please be sure to take care of yourself!
*.*.*
For as long as the little girl could remember, it felt like something was missing within her. She could never put a finger on it, but it made her a restless child, picking up and discarding games, struggling with consistently staying interested and some days she just felt very strange. 
Like that one stained glass window she had seen when her parents had taken her to a nearby city. All disjointed fragments that still managed to be a picture, but it would never be one entire piece.
The stained glass window at least had been pretty compared to the ugly feeling within her.
"Have you ever felt like something is missing inside you?" she asked her grandma, who came to pick her up many a day while her parents worked. 
Things were strange between Gran and her parents, she never talked to them and they never talked to her and she never set foot onto their garden, preferring to wait for the little girl at the gate by the little dirt road.
Gran stilled and when the little girl glanced up at her, her face had gone dark and grim and for the first time in the girl's life, her beloved grandma, a joyful soul who loved her with all her heart, looked just a little bit frightening.
But her hand around the girl's remained gentle and the older woman kept walking at a sedate pace so her short little legs didn't struggle with keeping up.
Everyone always said to the girl that she would grow to be bigger and she couldn't wait for that day to arrive. Gran was silent for so long that the girl thought she was never going to answer.
"You best ask your parents about that," Gran said at last, voice quiet and heavy with something unspoken. Strangely, her voice reminded the girl of a draft horse she had seen, who had been forced to pull a too heavy burden, body straining as it slowly and laboriously set one hoof in front of the other.
"Alright," the girl answered and grinned up at her grandmother, hoping to break up the awful mood her innocent little question had created. "Can we make blueberry cake today?"
Gran smiled and it was like the sun returning after a dark, scary storm, her face brightening and looking as kind and loving as ever. "Of course, little chestnut." She leaned in, voice dipping into a conspiratorial stage whisper, "My wife picked an entire basket just this morning."
The little girl giggled and soon the two of them reached the end of the village, all talk about missing pieces and resulting, scary expressions forgotten. The blueberry cake was delicious and maybe a bit messy since the girl had tried to help a bit too enthusiastically and the cute little apron Gran had made for her was stained with purple-blue juice on one corner.
Gran's wife, Tanya, arrived just as they had taken the first bite of a still warm slice of cake.
"You baked without me?" she gasped in a mock scandalized voice. "Oh, the betrayal, how it stings!" She dramatically fell onto the kitchen table and the little girl laughed when the two older women broke out into a full blown performance just to ensure she kept laughing.
Gran brought her back home just as the sun set and a strong, steady wind blew in from the forest, bringing with it the smell of spring moss and damp, cool earth.
"If you ever meet any magical beings, be wary," Gran said as she stopped in front of the gate that creaked noisily as soon as it was two thirds of the way open. 
She looked down at the girl, her face serious. "One day you might and if you do, they will offer you deals and nothing good ever comes from accepting their offers. They will only bring ruin in exchange for empty promises."
As solemnly as the little girl could, she offered her little pinky. "I promise to be careful," she said and a shadow of a smile crossed Gran's face as they hooked their pinkies around each other gently.
Gran leaned down to kiss the top of her head before she left with a glance towards the house and the girl briefly glanced towards the forest. It was an old forest, not quite as ancient as in other places, but surrounded by plenty of stories and mysteries. 
The girl had heard rumors about creatures living in the woods, of magic being alive in ways the mages in the big cities could never hope to replicate. She decided to be very careful whenever she went into the woods to pick berries and mushrooms. She had promised, after all.
She entered her parents' house, neatly putting her boots beside her mother's and when she looked up at her parents, the question tumbled forth without much thought, "Why do I feel like I'm missing something?"
Her mother, who was currently carving leather, stilled so thoroughly she might as well have turned to stone. Her father, in the process of cooking, seemed to freeze in place, the stirring of his ladle abruptly falling silent.
"You're still growing," her mother answered at last, voice quiet and her gaze on her work. "It will pass in given time."
The little girl stared at her, startled silent and with increasing heartbreak as the seconds passed, for she had just learned what her mother sounded like when she lied.
*.*.*
The conversation with her parents stayed with the girl as the months and years passed and she never asked again. Gran said nothing either, but every time she picked the girl up, she now glared at the house. 
Gran knew, the girl realized, but either couldn't say why she felt wrong or she didn't want to tell her.
Though, knowing her Gran, she probably couldn't for some reason. Gran had been born a rebel and she said she would die one, encouraging all of the little girl's bad habits, as her parents called them, with no remorse.
"This world will chew you up and spit you out, if you let it," Gran told her when she picked her up from school, her hand warm and gentle. "So don't be afraid to bare your teeth, little chestnut. Stand up for what you believe is right, that is the only way to slowly but surely kill off all things vile and dark."
The girl wasn't sure she entirely understood, but she nodded seriously anyway. Gran always told her everything no one else wanted to, blunt and direct without scaring her or hurting her feelings.
Gran felt strong, like a rushing river that wore down even the largest, toughest of boulders. The girl hoped she could be like her one day.
It was her Gran's teachings that got her in and out of trouble over the years and her words guided the girl into understanding when something was wrong. And how important it was to do something when she discovered evil.
As the village turned into a cute little town and more and more people moved in, drawing towards a hopeful future by their fertile lands and abundant forest, the girl had grown into a headstrong young woman.
Not once, in all that time, had she shaken off the feeling like she was lacking something. Like something was missing that should be there.
Her parents could no longer deny that something was wrong and their increasingly guilty and troubled looks said it all. It showed in the woman's life, that something within her was gone. As soon as someone looked into the little house she had moved into, they saw that no project was ever finished, every hobby dropped just after she had gained a modicum of skill in it.
She bounced from job to job, working for whoever hired her, before losing that job again, sometimes by leaving, sometimes by more talented, more passionate people coming along.
It was that restlessness that caused her to drift far enough from the town, the feeling of wrongness seemingly guiding her step, to cross paths with what she first thought was a traveling kind of circus.
There was a man leading the entire caravan of wagons, pale and primly dressed, clearly a mage considering his robes and pompous behavior as he hailed her down.
"We are no circus, young lady," he said when she asked about his business, but his eyes were cold and his smile about as pleasant as holding a palm full of slugs. "I am Master Egam and this is my curious collection. I intend to thoroughly impress the local lords."
He made a sweeping gesture at the wagons and she peered past him, at covered cages and grim looking soldiers.
Her gaze almost immediately fell back to the mage, however, and something ugly writhed within her chest. She couldn't put a finger on what it was, but it felt like sharp, uneven edges pressed against her ribs from within, accentuating the feeling of wrongness.
"Now, which way to the nearest town? It's growing rather late," Master Egam said, his smile wide and winning and yet it caused something cold to drip down her spine. There was a sudden taste of wet iron and rotting earth on her tongue.
It took her a moment to realize why, for she had never experienced anything like it. He had put magic into his words and it filled her mouth with a nasty taste. "This way, about a mile or so."
"Why don't you guide us?" he asked, patting the coach beside him. When she hesitated and saw a flash of curious danger in his eyes, she offered a bland smile.
"Thank you," she said, climbing up to join him, careful to keep some distance between them.
He stared at her for a moment and she resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. "You seem strangely...familiar," he mused after a moment. "Have I met you before? Or family of yours?" When she looked genuinely surprised, he shook his head. "Right, that is very unlikely. Then again, you country bumpkins all look the same to me."
She was desperate to distract him from her, which was thankfully easy enough to accomplish. All it took was a question about his exploits and soon he regaled her with all the horrifying details. Of the creatures he captured, the magic he had soaked up from them, the power he carried at his fingertips.
He was bragging, yes, but she could tell that every word was the truth. That he had chained a vampire into enduring sunlight at his leisure, that he had plucked all the feathers of a harpy to parade her around naked and that he had a griffin eating out of his hand for his amusement.
That he had caught one the most dangerous beings of all, a forest spirit.
She was deeply relieved when her hometown came into view and then she got to see the effects of his magic first hand. His voice seemed to be made of gold, for all he had to do was speak and people immediately rushed to obey, star-struck expressions and delighted, downright smitten smiles appearing on their faces.
She inched away from Master Egam and ended up by one of the wagons instead. Unable to resist, she tugged a corner of the covering up and peered inside.
Green eyes that shimmered like all the shades of plant life in the forest met hers and broken antlers rose from red and gold hair that tumbled down in long, thick waves. The forest spirit, she realized as she stared at him, wide eyed, his face sun-kissed and freckled and even chained down as he was she could see his innate power and grace.
The broken antlers disappeared, swiftly replaced by wolf ears as he now bared vicious fangs at her, wicked claws scraping over the iron lining the bottom of his cage as he growled.
"Careful with that one," Master Egam's voice made her jump and drop the tarp. "He's the most dangerous one I ever caught. A nasty piece of work."
"Why do you catch them?" she found herself asking and as she looked up at him, she already knew the answer before he opened his mouth.
"Because I can," he said, his smile as empty as his eyes were cruel. "Because the wild powers in this world need to know that they can and will be tamed. Now run along and don't tell anyone about this."
His magic was iron-rot on her tongue as she nodded, hastily pasting a smile on her face. It felt like fleeing as she turned and hurried away, her heart racing in her chest and the ugly, vile feeling that had scraped around her ribcage finally lessened.
The wrongness within her was as present as ever, a constant companion of subtle misery that dodged her steps, silent only whenever she found joy in things. Joy that was taken from her by its steady, suffocating grip sooner or later.
As soon as she was home, she began to pace, her mind whirring. She had to do something and whatever magic Master Egam possessed, she was somehow immune against it. She might be the only one who could think clearly around him.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm. Master Egam was dangerous and she was just a magic-less young woman who was all wrong inside. If she wasn't careful, she wouldn't have to worry about what was missing for much longer.
It wasn't hard, in the end, to find out that Master Egam was staying in the mayor's house, that he had tossed him and his family out and now treated the most lavish place as his. The mayor and his wife and two children seemed dazed but they didn't question what was being done to them, they just went to stay with their extended family.
The wagons were kept by the mayor's house, blocking most of the street and guarded by the soldiers, which were armed and armored.
She watched them as the last sunlight faded, thinking. Beyond the window she could see the mage and people came to his home, bringing downright decadent food with loving smiles and hazy eyes, leaving again empty handed.
An idea began to take form. A foolish one, most certainly, but it was likely her best chance. While Master Egam was busy feasting and ordering people around, most likely fancying himself a king among peasants, he would be distracted.
On second thought, he was most likely not traveling to impress lords, but to work his way up to becoming the actual king of these lands. Maybe even an emperor, holding court among captured creatures and his magic charming everyone into blind obedience.
So she joined a group of townsfolk who came with carefully made little cakes and desserts and they barely acknowledged her. The soldiers didn't even looked at them, most likely long used to this song and dance.
It was less easy to go unnoticed by Master Egam, but the man was easily distracted by the new offerings, already a good way through half the food he had been given.
No human should have been able to consume so much without bursting, she thought and she wondered if this was the price of his magic. That he not only could eat far too much, but had to.
"Bring this to the beasties," he said, gesturing at a little bucket of bones and food scraps and the young woman took a decisive step towards it, keeping her head down as she grabbed the bucket, stepping outside without being stopped. Her mouth was filled with the taste of iron-rot.
The soldiers didn't pay her any heed now either. They looked bored and hungry as they watched another plate of food being brought in, but they said nothing. She wondered if they could even if they wanted to. If they were similarly charmed as anyone else.
"I need to feed them," she said politely to the nearest soldier, who moved woodenly to stare at her with a slightly hazy gaze. Ah, that answered her question. "I need the key, please. Master Egam's orders."
He handed the key over, because why wouldn't he? When everyone was always so fully under the mage's control, there was no reason to doubt. She went to the forest spirit's cage first, ignoring his low growl as she pushed the tarp up and began to look for the lock.
He fell silent as soon as she slipped the key into it and opened the door.
"I'll get you out," she whispered and his head tipped to the side, his wolf ears flicking as he considered her. And then, ever so slowly without removing those intense eyes from her, he tipped his head back, baring his collared throat.
She crawled into the cage, making sure to pull the door almost-closed behind her, the tarp falling down and leaving her in murky darkness with only her slightly fast breathing and pounding heart. She slowly inched forward, patting the ground, until clawed fingers carefully closed around her hand, guiding it up.
The collar had no lock and she stilled, her heart leaping in her chest. What was she supposed to do now?
"Bleed," the forest spirit said, voice such a horrible rasp that she was half convinced his throat was full of glass shards. "Willing offer."
She wasn't even thinking when she reached out with her free hand, gripping his fingers and pressing her palm against his claws. She felt him jerk in surprise, but the pain was already blooming, blood running down her hand in a hot line. She reached out to press her hand to his collar, smearing as much of her blood on it as possible and the next second the collar clicked open, crashing to the floor with a rattle of chains.
The forest spirit inhaled sharply and then she felt his hands touch her shoulder, careful and helping her shuffle a bit to the side. Freeing the path to the cage door, she realized
"Free the others, please," he whispered, his voice no longer sounding like he was gargling gravel, but instead charming and lovely-sweet. Her mouth was filled with the faint taste of meadow-flowers and cool spring water.
Then he was out of the cage and she scrambled to follow him, catching the door before it could slam shut.
The guards were lying on the ground and she saw the forest spirit springing past the last one he had taking down, vaulting over a confused man with a tart and heading straight into the house, face snarling in rage.
The next cage held the plucked harpy, who hissed a high-pitched shriek at her, but fell similarly silent when the door to the cage was unlocked.
Her collar too opened with blood and then the harpy was out, her feathers re-growing with a burst of magic that was almost painful with its relief. She took flight immediately, though she clearly struggled as she escaped, as did the griffin the young woman freed. 
The vampire slunk out of his cage with a look of wild hunger and gratitude before he was gone between one moment and the next. Just in time for all the windows in the house to shatter outward in a massive wave of pressure, the forest spirit crashing to the ground, wheezing and covered in blood.
The young woman was at his side in no time and as she gripped him and saw him in the light of the street lanterns without the distractions of his eyes, she realized just how thin he was. How his limbs shook as he struggled to his feet.
He stumbled, eyes going wide when she dragged him with her, just in time to round the corner before Master Egam came out of the house with magic whipping around him, a howl of rage filling the night as he found all his cages empty, his guards unconscious – or perhaps dead – on the ground.
"What are you doing," the forest spirit hissed, but he seemed unable to free himself from her grip, which told her everything she needed to know. She wasn't weak by any means, but she got the impression that he should be far stronger than she.
"Saving you," she hissed back. "You're in no condition to fight!"
"Return them to me!" she heard Master Egam's voice boom behind her, so loud and rattling it filled the entire town, making people cower and stumble, their gazes going hazy. "And find me the one who did this!"
Her mouth was filled with the taste of iron-rot to the point where she had to gag, but she managed to push on, reaching the little house she had moved into after she could no longer stand the guilty silence of her parents. The moment they were through the door, the forest spirit collapsed to the floor, breathing hard, sweating and bleeding.
"His magic," he said as he stared up at her with wide, bright green eyes that she knew she could get lost in if she allowed it. "It doesn't work on you. Why?"
"No idea," she murmured back. "Come, we have to hide you."
She had managed to empty out a large storage chest and squeezed him inside despite his protest just in time for her neighbors to come knocking.
"No one is here, I came looking," she said, heart pounding and blood still dripping from her hand as she gestured at the hastily strewn about contents of her chest. "I made sure they weren't hiding."
"Come help search," her neighbors murmured, gazes hazy and she followed them outside, hoping that the spirit stayed where he was, that he wouldn't be found.
She searched with the others until they were all ready to collapse and only then did Master Egam order them to rest with such fury that the cobblestone cracked around him. He had long since roused his guards – most of which were still alive – and had sent them out to the forest to capture those that had run for the woods.
"They can't go far," she heard him mutter to himself as he turned around to head back into the house. "Not with the state I left them all in."
He wasn't wrong.
When the young woman returned home, she found the forest spirit still in the storage chest, asleep and looking utterly exhausted. She dropped into her bed and slept until hunger forced her awake. 
The smell of cooking food woke the spirit as well and she stared in astonished surprise as he ate at an alarmingly fast rate. Half her pantry was gone by the time he curled up in front of the hearth and went straight back to sleep. She dropped a thick blanket on him and arranged pillows to hide him from the outside and sat down, thinking.
Master Egam was powerful and she had no idea if she could hide the spirit until he regained his strength, especially if he needed that much food every day. And even then there was no guarantee that he'd be powerful enough to defeat the mage. But, she reasoned, he might be able to escape, which was just as good in her opinion.
She dozed off and woke feeling warm, blinking blearily to realize the blanket was now draped over her, the pillows carefully arranged to leave her in a little nest. Only the floor beneath her was a little hard. Peering around, alarm searing through her, worrying that something had happened, she relaxed as soon as she saw the spirit.
He stood with his back to her, looking at all the half finished projects she had lying around, not having the heart to put them away, even though she already knew she'd never finish them. That this was it and her love for a new hobby she had found was instead curdling into quiet, miserable grief.
"Thank you," he said before turning towards her. He already looked far better than yesterday, less gaunt and shaky on his feet. His injuries were gone as well, leaving only a somewhat tattered, stained shirt and worn, knee-length pants over hale and whole skin behind.
He tipped his head and the way the light of a lit candle reflected in his eyes reminded her of the way animal eyes would look when a lantern swept past them in the dark. "What do you want in return for your help?"
She paused after sitting up, then shrugged. "I don't want anything." Gran had been very firm about deals with magic creatures, that they brought ruin more often than not, her voice harsh and bitter as she had said it. As if there was more to her words than mere warnings.
Besides, the young woman had grown up on stories about daring knights, wise mages and courageous princesses and princes. She had always wanted to be like them, to do good with her own two hands whenever possible. Had secretly dreamed about one day saving someone as she had grown up.
It had been far more scary and harrowing than in her imagination, but she'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.
"You want nothing," the spirit repeated, sounding like he didn't believe her. "Everyone wants something, help is never freely given. Especially not from my kind and especially not when you saved my life. Do not take that kind of thing lightly."
"All I want is for you to be safe," she said. "Don't get hurt again, promise me that."
The forest spirit inhaled sharply, pupils blowing wide until only a small ring of green remained and she felt a warm shiver go through the air. Like something powerful had just exhaled a blessing.
He said nothing for a long moment, before he dipped his head, suddenly looking regal as the wolf ears melted away and antlers appeared that looked far more intact than last night. "Very well." 
He joined her by the hearth, dropping down to one knee and offered his hand. "Let me see your wound."
She held out her hand and felt a tingle of magic, could taste soft, gentle meadow flowers and refreshing water as relief took away the lingering pain. Her palm was unmarred, not even a scar remaining.
"You have no idea what you just gave me, do you?" he asked quietly when she looked at him, his gaze so very captivating it looked like the entirety of the forest had gathered in his eyes.
She offered a small, crooked smile. "I've never been around magic," she said, all too aware that he was still holding her hand, skin warm like sunshine. "You can hide here until you've recovered."
He tipped his head to the side. "You would welcome me even now, knowing who is looking for me?"
"You're safe here," she answered. "He can't charm me and you need time to recover. Just make sure no one sees you."
"What do you desire for your help in return?" he asked. "And don't say nothing again."
She thought of the wrongness within her and wondered if magic could fix it. Then she remembered Gran's warnings about deals and ruin and bit back a sigh.
"I'll think about something," she said, though she didn't intend to. Once the spirit was strong enough, he would either fight or leave, but either way she doubted she would ever see him again.
He didn't look happy about that, but accepted her answer graciously enough. Getting to her feet, the young woman waved him with her to the kitchen corner. If he was eating her out of house and home he could help her cook.
When it became clear he was actually the better cook, since she hadn't been able to learn too much before her wrongness had kicked in, she happily left him to it and grabbed her money, sneaking out.
The entire town was walking around in a strange sort of haze, half of them still searching and the other half catering to the mage. 
She saw people bring more food to the mayor's house, along with other things. Jewels and prized possessions, feathers the harpy had and griffin had lost and one or two held squeaking bats in their gloved hands, as though hoping they might be the escaped vampire.
No one looked twice at her when she bought as much food as she could at the market and she bit back bitter worry when she saw Gran and Granny Tanya bring blueberry cake to the mage with happy smiles.
Only her parents didn't seem to be out and about. Strange.
She brought the food back home and the forest spirit noticeably relaxed once she was back, thanking her quietly before falling quiet again. The young woman, however, could only stand the silence for so long before she began to ask questions.
Before long she knew that the forest spirit had gotten captured in his sleep, that his home was to the north and that he could sense the power of the nearby forest.
They both fell asleep in front of the hearth and by the second day, the young woman dragged her bedding out into the living room and made a proper place to rest for the two of them. 
The forest spirit was in a better mood today and she realized that under all the tense grimness he was rather playful and enjoyed teasing and, most of all, making her laugh. She noticed as the days passed how he regained his strength, the gauntness disappearing faster than it would have for a regular person.
They kept busy in the small house in different ways. She watched him finish some of her craft projects and taught him to dance, he conjured sprigs of flowers for them to 'pretty up the place with' as he said and he let her brush out and braid his hair after long baths, the bath water never cooling until they were well and truly done.
Every night they curled up on the hearth together and it was then, as he looked at her, hair a healthy, shining red and gold and fox ears perked to listen better, that the truth spilled out.
How wrong inside she felt and he frowned at her in what she recognized as worry.
"May I?" he asked, holding out his hand and she put hers into his without a moment's hesitation. His face went soft and gentle in a way that ached somewhere around her tender heart as he held her hand with care.
Then he closed her eyes and she could taste meadow flowers and cold water and his frown deepened.
"I - you must talk to your parents," he said and as soon as the words were out, his head reared back a bit, ears pinning flat to his head as he blinked, looking startled and irritated. "Oh, how nasty."
She stared at him, wide-eyed and for the first time got the feeling that something was very, very wrong in a different way than she had thought.
"I'll go now," she whispered and he nodded, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze before she got to her feet.
Her parents looked worried and tense when they opened the door, relaxing a bit when they saw it was her, only for the tension to snap back into their frames. She realized immediately that they knew why she was here.
That there was a reason why she and they alone weren't slaves to the magic-charm of a mad mage. That they did know why she felt like a piece was missing.
"What's wrong with me?" she asked, sharp and hard in a way she had never spoken with them and they stepped aside to let her in.
They stood around the living room awkwardly until her father broke first, guilty and defensive and shoulders hunched, the silence around them heavy and thick and oppressive like summer heat without a cooling breeze.
"We didn't know," he said, almost pleading as he looked at his daughter. "When we met that...that man on our travels. We didn't know."
Something hot was wrapping around her heart and throat and a bad feeling unfolded in her gut, wriggling to get comfortable like a cat in a beam of sunlight. "Tell me the truth. Now. You owe me that much at least."
"We asked for a good life," her mother whispered, staring down at the ground, arms wrapped around herself and her head bent, shoulders tense. "We asked for nothing unreasonable, because being greedy only curses you. We asked for a good, warm, house, for enough money to buy what we desired until our deaths and to lead healthy, long and safe lives. We wanted the sort of fortune that would ensure we would have everything we desired until the day we died."
The heaviness in the air seemed to press down harder, like a thick blanket over sticky, sweaty skin, trapping heat and impossible to shake, no matter how desperately she wanted to get rid of it.
"What was the price?" the young woman asked, her tongue almost numb in her mouth. Though, she already knew. Could feel it in the marrow of her bones, could feel it in the stained glass shape of her soul, all disjointed and wrong and missing missing missing. Always missing something.
"You were but a babe," her father answered before she could ask again. "We didn't think...when he asked for a piece of you, something that wouldn't hurt you if he took it, we thought, well, if you grew up without it...you wouldn't know what you were missing."
Her heart shouldn't break, she thought, as pain and anger and grief greedily dug into her chest and belly. It shouldn't break when she didn't even feel all that surprised to hear what they were saying.
She thought of her life filled with things she couldn't finish, couldn't dedicate herself to no matter how deeply she loved, like her hands were too restless, desperately trying to find something to fill the void within her. All the friendships she had lost over the years, the disappointed people she had worked with and most of all, how miserable she had been.
She thought about feeling wrong and disjointed and like a stained glass window made by a clumsy apprentice and with the intent to make other people whisper and point and laugh instead of impressing them.
Weird, strange, not-fitting-in. Wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, had sung through her veins for as long as she could remember and she had walked through life feeling like a part of her was gone, but unable to voice it. Unable to even name what was missing. 
Thinking that, maybe, this was just her lot in life. That nothing could be done about it and she had tried to do her best with the hand she had been dealt by fate.
And all this time, her parents had just...traded that part of her away. For small comforts. For a future they could have made themselves with their own hands had they cared to try. For a life bartered and paid for by someone else, so they wouldn't have to shoulder the burden. 
And then they had lied to her about it, had left her thinking that nothing could be done to make her feel better. That this was normal.
"Who?" she asked numbly and she blinked, realizing she was halfway to the door. When she looked at her parents, hot, angry hatred crawled up her throat like a wave of lava at seeing their wounded, self-pitying faces. "Who did you allow to hurt me?"
"Master Egam," her father whispered, his voice barely audible in the heavy, suffocating silence. "We can't let him see us or he might remember."
She was out the door before he could finish speaking, heart breaking and racing and she wasn't surprised at all, even though she thought she should be. So that was why his magic wasn't working on her – and her parents, if part of their deal was to remain healthy and unharmed at all times. Just what had Egam taken from her to make a deal that protected them no matter what?
She didn't remember the path home, but the moment the door fell closed behind her, she looked at the forest spirit and all the breath rushed back into her lungs. He was waiting with a plate of cookies he had baked that afternoon and his gaze was so gentle and understanding it made the wounded part of her tremble.
He opened his arms, a silent invitation and for a moment there was so much awful anguish in her, she didn't know what to do. Had no idea how to react if someone touched her, if it would drain the pain and anger or make it spill over, ugly and messy and raw. Like a wound that had had years and years and years to grow until it had spread and festered.
Then she moved and let him catch her and cradle her close as she broke down, crying as bitterly and hard as she had never cried before. He held her tightly as she shook apart, her head tucked under his chin and she cried and cried until she felt empty inside. Empty and wrong.
"They gave a piece of me to Egam," she whispered, voice thick and scratchy and he stilled. She tightened her grip on the shirt she had gotten him during one of her trips to the market, where food had started to grow scarce. "In exchange for a good, comfortable life."
He cupped the back of her head and kept holding her, offering no empty platitudes and no 'I'm sorry's, for which she was grateful. She didn't want sorrys. She was...she was too damn fucking furious for that, she realized, now that the pain had momentarily drained away.
"I want it back," she said, biting the words out like they were bones snapping between her teeth. "I want it back and I want this monster gone."
He hugged her tighter and she felt his smile press against her temple, sharp and dangerous and fanged and not the least bit afraid of her rage. Not the least bit judgmental the way others had reacted to her anger over the years.
"Let's shred him," he whispered against her hair, soft lips brushing forehead. "Let's get back what he stole from us."
*.*.*
It hadn't taken too long to prepare. The forest spirit had recovered fully and there wasn't anything in town that could help them against a mage, but in the end, they didn't need much anyway. 
They didn't need fancy things or mage slayers. Not when the mage in question would give them the weapons they needed, born out of his own greed and hubris.
Born out of a deal he had made with her parents and Gran really was right, deals only ever brought ruin. Because she and the part Egam had taken from her were about to become his.
The forest spirit gave her hand a squeeze and they exchanged one more look as they got ready behind her house, his eyes fierce and so trusting it briefly stole her breath away.
"When this is over, travel with me," he said, out of nowhere. "I want to show you my home. The brooks and meadows and mountains and lake."
She smiled back, a warmth that had nothing to do with the burning rage spreading through her, smoothing down her edges and settling around her heart like a protective blanket.
"Gladly," she answered quietly, then her smile turned a bit crooked. "What, you aren't going to ask for anything in exchange, leaf boy?"
He laughed softly and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. "You're too precious for deals," he said quietly and she could taste his magic, sweet and cool and it almost brought tears to her eyes, though she couldn't quite say why.
"Let's go," she said instead and he reached up to gather his hair, pulling it aside to allow her to put the pilfered chain from the wagon around his neck. They had scratched out all the symbols on the inside of the iron, destroying the enchantment that would block his magic.
With a bit of glue it would stay shut for now and he caught her hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles until they stopped shaking. They both took a deep breath and stepped onto the street, a glamor settling over his skin, making him look gaunt and injured once more. He limped, casting her one last wink before people noticed them.
The townsfolk paid attention to her for the first time in nearly a month as she went to the mage's house. Word must have traveled ahead, for Master Egam was already awaiting them and the mayor's house was saturated with iron-rot. She could see a few hints here and there of the chaos that must've reigned before he had gotten things cleaned up to welcome them, sitting on a padded chair like it was a throne.
"Bring him to me, girl," he said, beckoning and his smile benevolent and his eyes glittering like cold glass shards. His hunger was deep enough to cut and she bit back a shiver at the disgust that crept beneath her skin the closer she came to him.
"My prized possession," Egam murmured, already ignoring her and his magic grew thicker in the air, almost making her gag. The forest spirit pretended to fight, snarling as he was dragged forward, looking like he was too weak to resist. "And you put him back in his proper attire too, good girl."
He absentmindedly patted her on the head and she made herself smile at him, empty and dazzled, like the other townsfolk, swallowing down bile. The spirit had told her that Egam had stolen a piece of his magic too, forcefully instead of willingly, but it was in his hands all the same.
It was time to get back what belonged to them.
She handed over the chain, his gaze on the forest spirit like he wanted to devour him whole. Like the monsters and villains in her stories growing up, greedy and cruel and insatiable.
Egam moved past her, already discarding her as unimportant. As under his control. As just another 'country bumpkin'. He was the powerful mage after all and, as he had said, he already had one of the most powerful beings under his control.
A powerless girl might as well be dirt under his boots.
That was the exact reason he didn't see her nick her hand on a small knife hidden in her pocket. Why he didn't see her smile at the forest spirit over his shoulder before reaching out. 
He didn't look at her and therefore couldn't react in time when she stepped to his side and reached up, pressing her bloody hand over his heart at the same time that the forest spirit lunged forward. 
The mage did react, aiming his magic at the bigger, perceived threat, like they had suspected. And just like they had hoped, his magic slid off of the forest spirit harmlessly, for when the young woman had saved his life and he had offered her compensation of the same magnitude, she had asked for him to be safe.
The forest spirit was unhindered, pressing bloody palms to the mage's chest, right over his heart, sharp, sharp teeth bared and he snarled, "I undo the deal."
"I undo the deal," she spoke simultaneously with him, the words the forest spirit had taught her, steady and patient as each one was nothing but pain in her throat. Because she wasn't supposed to say those words, but then again, parents weren't supposed to give away what didn't belong to them either, so she had a right to this.
A right to undo what had been done to her, as long as she could get through the pain that tried to keep her from speaking. Pain that was worse than any wrongness had ever been, any loneliness and pain and grief and self-loathing for not being like all the other people. 
For never getting to keep doing the things she loved, forever searching for something she hadn't known she'd have to buy back with blood and pain.
It was the worst pain she had ever endured, but it wasn't stronger than the rage in her veins, the taste of iron-rot on her tongue and the sun-warm hand that took her free, unharmed one, grounding and strong. The look of startled anger on the mage's face swiftly morphing into fear was everything in this moment.
"I undo the deal made made without my voice, without my consent, without my agreement. I undo it as it was made, in pain and blood and betrayal," they spoke in perfect unison, their only chance to both get back what had been taken from them.
Their only chance to catch him so by surprise that he did feel betrayed, that he was as helpless as they had been, asleep and a babe respectively.
The moment the last word left her mouth, a sudden relief gripped her throat, releasing the burning agony that had torn through it and at the same time, she felt something warm and big spread through her chest.
The wrongness disappeared in an instant, the feeling of missing turning into wholeness so filling and great she almost stumbled back, her skin tingling and euphoria singing through her so brightly she had to sob. Because that wasn't just a missing piece, a sliver of soul that he had taken and that was now returned to her.
Magic, he had taken magic from her. It glittered like stars in the dark in her veins, spilled through her mind like bright sunlight on shimmering waves and wrapped around her with a desperation like it had longed to return to her as relentlessly as she had wanted it to return to her.
Egam was screaming as he stumbled back and they let him, watched him trip and spill to the ground as he writhed, clawing at his chest where blood smeared, hot and red and the forest spirit gripped her hand tighter.
His magic was heavy in the air, making her taste rivers and entire fields full of flowers and even from the corner of her eye she could see how much more vibrant he was now, the glamor dropped. Captivating and downright otherworldly, beautiful and mesmerizing.
"What have you done!" Egam shrieked but his words no longer tasted of iron-rot in the air and she blinked, realizing the power of his voice had been stolen from someone else. As she watched him seemingly shrink down, magic leaving him, her breath caught.
Oh. Her magic had been the first he had stolen. Her magic was what had bolstered all of his and now that it was gone, everything he was unraveled until it left behind a pitiful little man, with eyes so mean and cruel he should belong in a story, not in real life.
"I promised you I would be your end," the forest spirit said and his voice was filled with magic. The sort of magic that had previously been used by Egam to charm everyone. "I think your hunger and greed are better suited in a different shape and form. In something that grows, don't you?"
And Egam tried to scramble to his feet and run, but the magic of the forest spirit was so thick in the air it her own magic sing in return, bright and sparking and the fury was still a living, roiling wave of heat within her. She reached out without much thought, letting her magic wrap around the forest spirit's, who threw his head back and laughed.
He laughed as Egam screamed in a pitch no human throat should be capable of. He laughed as the screams cut off and branches broke out of his back, his skin turning to bark and the mage grew and grew and stretched and the young woman found herself pulled out the house as floorboards and walls, doors and furniture and remains of windows were devoured.
She watched as a tree grew and grew and grew until the trunk was as wide as the house had been and it reached high into the sky, the canopy so thick and wide it sheltered the entire town under its boughs. 
And her magic was singing and singing and singing and she felt so hale and whole she felt like she was floating. The forest spirit turned towards her, grinning and took her injured hand, pressing a kiss to the cut, smearing blood over his lips as he healed it.
"We're free now," he whispered, eyes so very green and then she was laughing and crying and pulling him forward and he followed her, pressing kisses that tasted like fading copper and brightly like flowers and cold water to her lips.
They were free. Free and whole at last and she felt like she was truly breathing for the first time since she could remember. Deep breaths that seemed to fill her entire body, her magic twining with his as it surrounded them, forest and sky and her tears were wiped away with gentle, gentle hands.
"We are," she whispered, sinking her hands into his hair until she had threaded starlight through it. "Let me introduce you to Gran and Granny Tanya and then I want to see your home."
He laughed and picked her up and twirled her in a circle and she found herself laughing as well, flowers blooming to form a crown on her head.
Where previously a quiet sort of misery had loomed in her future, saturating all coming days, she now couldn't wait to see what the rest of her life looked like.
Bright, she thought as she held his face in her hands, their foreheads gently pressing together. Her future was bight and free and full of love and she was still laughing and crying, happy beyond words. And her magic, finally, finally returned to her, sang and shone and at long last, she felt nothing but right inside.
*.*.*
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archangel-1 · 3 months
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I am getting and loving the goth bully vibes hehe
Give me all your lunch money, dork
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“My imagination makes me human and makes me a fool; it gives me all the world and exiles me from it.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin.
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phinkslave · 3 months
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Could you do #1, 11 and 12 with phinks? You don’t have to do all of them but I loveee the prompts
Unbreakable bond
1: “I want to hear you beg.”
11: “Don’t close your eyes. Look at me. “
12: “You’re mine.”
Of course! I truly hope you like this aha since it is my first ever piece of writing. I tried my best, and if u think I need any tips or so on let me know! I didn’t make it as dark as I would have hoped for but please enjoy. 🫶🏼
Warnings: Smut, minor violence, noncon (sort of), yandere behavior
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It’s been around two months since he’s taken you. You’ve dreaded every moment. Simple things like watching movies or even reading books didn’t interest you anymore, but you had to pretend. You were scared to show any protest against him. He was dangerous. He was strong. You wanted was freedom, but the question was how? How would you get away from him. He’s stronger, faster, and just more able than you’ll ever be. Knowing that just made you feel hopeless. You’re trapped forever.
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“Listen, me and the troupe got a mission. It’ll take at least a whole day so, if you want any take out or such, let me know.” Phinks said as he entered your guys’ shared room.
Well you insist to sleep on the couch but, he’d never let that slide.
You could only manage to mumble a little “okay.” In his direction, not even looking him. Which he seemed to have expected. Phinks has always been a patient man, and as much as you hate to admit, he was trying his best to treat you nice, be all sweet, to tend to all your needs. You sort of appreciated how kind he was, especially after hearing how his friend feitan broke his girlfriend’s legs. You shuddered at the thought. It reminded you just how much you needed to get out of this place. Phinks had enough strength to break your fingers with a pinch.
“I think we’ll be heading someplace near Yorknew. I heard they got great snacks. Ya interested?” He said in an attempt to cheer you up a bit.
Phinks saying that shook you out of your thoughts, he distrupted your mental plan on how to get the hell out of his little apartment he keeps you in meteor city.
“No.”
“Really? Nothing at all? Heh fine, starve for all I care.”
Then there it was. His annoyed side. Phinks can be a sweetheart, but he can also get upset just as fast.
After spending a few hours in the room, you left. Heading to the kitchen since you finally started feeling the hunger in your stomach. You can only resist food for so long. In the kitchen was a troubled looking phinks who was on the phone.
“I just don’t like this ide-…ima have to call you back nobu.” Is what he said as soon as his eyes laid on you.
“Hey babe, ya hungry?”
“Mhm.”
“Sorry about earlier……do you want anything specific? I’ll bring it to you.”
“No.”
He just watched you as you grabbed an apple and started heading back to the room.
“Hey hey hold on..” grabbing your forearm.
“What.” Poison lacing your tone.
He made an audible loud sigh.
“Listen. I get your upset, I know you wanna go home, but you got to give me more than that. Come on, i just want you to forever be protected. I love you.”
“Well I don’t.” Snatching your arm away with much atitude.
Before you could turn around again he slammed you against the wall, shaking some famous art pieces he stole that were hung up the wall. The slam didn’t hurt, but it was just so aggressive. Tears started to immediately form.
“Listen.” His tone being the most angry you’ve heard so far. “I am trying my best to be the good guy here. Do you know how fucking hard you’re making this for me?”
At this point your tearing up.
“I might as well let it out now. You’re not leaving me. Ever. Okay. Understand that, this, this place is your new home. Understand that, because I won’t have the patience to explain it to you again. You’re mine. Nothing you do will change that. If you think you can leave. Understand that you won’t ever. You love me. And I love you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Y-yes.” Trying not to let sobs spill.
“Good.” He said smiling, wiping your tears. “Now none of that, you know I hate it when you cry.”
He hugged your shaky body.
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That was just 3 weeks ago, but all this boredom being in the house made it feel like a few days back.
Since then you and phinks have made lots of progress. Him being the only person interaction you get, sort of made you have no other choice. If you didn’t treat phinks like a friend, you think you’d truly go insane.
Relationship progress wise, the farthest you and him have ever gone was just a measly makeout. Each time sitting on his lap, facing him, you could feel how hard you’d make him. Which boosted your confidence. Slyly rocking your hips to get him more worked up.
It was amusing. You tried to tell yourself it was okay, making out and basically riding your kidnapper shouldn’t be okay, but overtime you’ve began to like phinks, besides he was pretty handsome, and his little jokes he’d make every now and then, or even how on every mission back he would bring you a stuffed animal or some chocolates.
Thankfully for yourself, he’s never gone as far as you’d like. Limiting himself to only where you’d start and stop. Knowing full well he could pin you down and take whatever he wanted was a thought you’d resurface every now and then, but you trusted him more and more.
Time went on and the more needy you got. Makeouts werent satisfying you enough.
Phinks just got home from a mission.
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“Hey, I was hoping we could watch a movie tonight or something.” You said greeting him at the door.
“Yeah, whatever’s fine.” Giving you a worn out smile and a peck on the lips. “I’m just gonna tidy up a bit.” Clearly dirty from whatever fights he got into.
“Okay! I’ll set up.” You said all cheery.
The thing is, you were hoping to have sex tonight. Being a virgin you want it to be special, but of course phinks didn’t know that. You put some snacks on the table as well as some drinks. A little alcohol won’t ever hurt. Dimming the lights putting some fluffy blankets on the couch and now all that was left to do was click play for the movie.
Around 10 minutes has passed and you got bored having to wait on him so long.
“Phinks! You’re taking so longggg.” You said in a whiny voice.
No response.
“ugh! Phinks.” Getting up you checked the bathroom, and he wasn’t there. So you went to your guys’ bedroom and there he was. Laying in bed, not even under the covers, as if he fell asleep as soon as he made contact with the bed. Wearing nothing but some sweats and a grey tank top.
You were a bit frustrated, but then again it was so adorable seeing his chest rise up and down so slowly. You had an idea.
Walking up to him, you got on top, straddling his waist. His eyes opened, all droopy.
“Sorry sorry, I swear they were just shut.” He said all groggy.
“It’s okay, we can do other things….” Leaning down to kiss him, trailing down from his jaw to his neck.
You felt his jaw tense up a bit under your kisses, and soon feeling his hands grip your wait somewhat harsh.
“This is better than a movie.” He thought he could be subtle about it, but you felt his tiny grinds against your clothed core. But you played along, grinding against him as needy as ever, letting a few whines drop from your lips, he got the memo.
“It’s like that?” He said smirking up at you, all you managed to do was let out a few huffs, getting tired already dry humping him.
He got up, you still straddling his waist. Turned around and laid you gently on the bed. Hearing a few silent protests from you due to the lack of contact.
He took his tank top off, you finally realizing just how built this man was. It looked like his abs had abs, he had such a prominent v-line, and his arms were bigger then your remember. “Like what you see?” He said all cocky, clearly noticing how in awe you were. But it didn’t do nothing but make you nervous. What if he didn’t like your body?
“Just touch me already?”
“Oh it’s not as simple as that, ya know how long you’ve made me wait? I want to hear you beg.”
“I am not begging.”
“That’s a shame….” He leaned over picking up his tank top, but before he could put it on again,
“Okay okay fine….please….just touch me.”
“Boringgg, that’s the best you can do?”
“I will bite you.”
“Yeah yeah, your lucky your cute.” He leaned down taking your tshirt off. “No bra?” Bending down to suck your nipple, causing you to get out some more moans. Geez, he knew how to work his mouth. He got up again from leaning down, this time taking his and yours pants off, being left in nothing but your underwear’s. First, he took yours off, clearly noticing your embarrassment “you’re so beautiful.”
Using his hands to open your legs more apart allowing his fingers room to gently start caressing your clit.
“I wasn’t kidding when I said I need you begging.”
This time you didn’t care, you needed him, you had to.
“Please phinks, please I need you so bad, I crave-“ before you could finish you yelped, feeling a finger enter you, causing you to squirm so much he had to hold u down a bit with his other hand.
“Tell me how much you love me.” Adding another finger.
“I love you! I love you so so much.”
“Geez, this wet for me babe?”
“Mhm all for you-“ you stopped talking, being to focused on his fingers in you. And he let you, silently smirking to himself, letting you to enjoy the feeling. As soon as your legs started shaking, he moved his fingers.
“Can’t have you finishing already now can we?”
You looked at him all teary eyed due to your almost orgasm, cheeks all red.
“Keep looking at me like that I’ll finish before you.” He said in a chuckle, racing to let his cock free.
You watched how it sprung against his stomach as soon as he let it out. Kind of scared and regretting all of this. What would he think when he knew you were a virgin? Would that even fit?
He gave himself a few pumps, “we don’t need no condom.” He said, approaching you again, but this time you scooted yourself across the bed a bit, giving distance between you two.
“I don’t think it will fit.”
“Of course it will, c’mere babe.”
“No.”
“What? What’s wrong? You being f’real right now?”
You looked at him all nervous before he let out a sigh. Grabbing you by your ankles causing you to be as close as he needed.
“Don’t be silly, we were doing so well.” Aligning himself with your entrance.
“Stop phinks I’m serious.”
“Nah. Don’t worry you got this alright?”
Trying to scoot away again he held your wrists down.
“I’m a virgin!” You yelped out.
He looked at you. Chuckling.
“Is that what’s got you so worked up? Sweetheart, if anything that’s better, anyways I’ll be gentle yeah?”
“Please phinks….”
“You know you wanted this so bad, I’m just tryna give you what you what.”
Despite your protests, he held your wrists above your head with one hand in order to have his other free to guide his tip inside. You shut your eyes. He stopped as soon as he saw.
“Don’t close your eyes. Look at me.”
When you didn’t listen he got frustrated. He gave your face a few light but harsh taps, and then grabbed a hold of your neck.
“Listen to me.”
Your eyes opened. But this time you were sobbing uncontrollably.
“Good girl. Hey hey, none of that just let me take care of you baby.” Wiping some of your tears.
“I don’t want this.”
“Sure you do, you just don’t know it yet.”
And with that, he slowly entered, he made no effort to hide his grunts, holding eye contact with you as his hand around your throat didn’t allow you to move your head around.
As soon as he felt him ease into you, he let go of your wrists and neck allowing you to grip the bedsheets freely and him holding your hips.
“Feel better now?” His head in your neck, rocking his hips at a painfully slow pace. He wanted you to adjust first for a few minutes. It took all of him to not just start slamming into you.
“Nhm hm.” You said, holding your moans inside, your arms wrapping around his neck.
Eventually his pace fastened, and you couldn’t hold your moans in anymore, his thrusts getting harder since your moans were encouragement to him.
“ ‘m bout to phinks-!”
“No, not yet.” He said and he started to rub your clit. He knew you’d cum, but he liked the thought of him fucking your overstimulated body.
“Is t’much!” You squirming trying to push him off.
“Almost baby, almost.” And with that you came undone under him, shaking vigorously, cumming on his cock. That sight alone was enough to almost have him undone.
“Stop! Stop!” You screamed out, pushing against him but he just grabbed your wrists, pinning them on your tummy with your arms crossed.
“A bit more.” He said through his teeth, as he finally came undone inside you. the feeling of his cum still causing you to shake. After a minute of him laying on you, both of you out of breath, he finally pulled out, you shuddered at the feeling of cum dripping out of you. He left, and came back with some napkins, wiping you clean.
“Sorry about the mess….” He broke the silence.
“Can we sleep now…” you confused on the whole situation. You didn’t know if you liked what had just happened or if it was against your will.
“Sure.” He said, lifting you up so he could pull the covers down, and climbed into bed next to you.
Letting your thoughts drift you to sleep as he kissed your temple, the last words you heard was a cheeky I love you.
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onwhatcaptain · 8 months
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Back again with another snippet from my fic. This is from chapter 10, and the conclusion of part 1.
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For the first time in the longest time, Spock cries. He weeps as he did when he was just a child. He sobs because he is in pain, and because his heart hurts. No other reason. He is under the influence of nothing but a deep welling pit of grief, and he cannot summon the mortification and self-censure it takes to stop. When he wipes the tears from his eyes, more drip down his cheeks.
If you are curious, my fic "I Shall Do Neither" is here at AO3. Details below as always, and big thank you to everyone who has read along so far.
I Shall Do Neither (59729 words) by onwhatcaptain Chapters: 11/22 Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock Characters: James T. Kirk, Spock (Star Trek), Leonard "Bones" McCoy Additional Tags: Romance, Angst, Heavy Angst, Loss of Control, Psychological Trauma, Mutual Pining, Five Year Mission (Star Trek), Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, Post-Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, Pon Farr, Pon Farr Aftermath (Star Trek), Unresolved Sexual Tension, Friendship, Grief, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Unreliable Narrator, Vulcan Biology, Tarsus IV (Star Trek), Vulcan Mind Melds, Non-Linear Narrative, Storytelling Through Vignettes, Missing Scenes Between Episodes, Plot, Cover Art, Canon Divergence, Digital Art, Illustrations, In spite of the description Kirk features heavily in this novel Summary: In the wake of the kal-if-fee on Vulcan, Kirk is dead. When T’Pau tells Spock to live long and prosper, he knows he shall do neither. This is a story about men who love each other, and the lengths they will go to for one another. - Foolish, he thinks. I have been a fool. How he had wanted so desperately to prove his Vulcan side. How all his life it had felt like a performance, and yet, to be finally subject to the most Vulcan thing of all destroyed him. The stripping of logic. All sense torn from him. His carefully constructed barriers had collapsed like a flimsy house of cards. To be granted his wish this way was a type of mockery. How he had wanted to be fully Vulcan. To prove that the blood which runs through his veins was not so human. How wanting had been better than having. - This story is told in two parts across 21 chapters, and will be updated on Sundays.
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estsmutxx · 7 months
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i’ve never written something like this before so please excuse how bad this is
-Welcome home-
Plot:Colson worships you
Tags/warnings:body worship,praise,pet names,somewhat soft colson😱,lots of soft kissing,edging
You and Colson have been together for a while and it was no secret that he was completely in love with you. The way he treated you was a thousand times gentler than how he treated anyone else in his life. You were the only one he trusted,the only one he would speak  his full mind to.
Today he was on his way back from a rehearsal with rook,he’s been gone all day.He was supposed to come home half an hour ago but he called you saying he got caught up. You were laid out on the couch,your playlist playing off of the tv. You missed him,so as soon as you heard the door open you ran up to him.
"Hi,love." He said to you,his arms wrapped around your torso. "Hi,I missed you." You told him. He kissed your forehead, "I missed you more,i'm sorry I was late." He apologized,tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "It's okay,i'm glad you're home now." You said,giving him a smile. He smiled back and kissed your lips.
"God I missed your face. I've been thinking about you all day." He said,his hands going down to either sides of your hips. "Really?" You asked,pushing yourself against his chest. "Of course.Your hair is so perfect." He said,wrapping a piece of your hair gently around his finger.
"I love you." You whispered into his neck. He stroked your hair with the hand that wasn't holding yours. "I love you more." He said. "I just wanna kiss you all over I missed you." He said. The way he was obsessed with you made you feel like you were the prettiest girl in the world,it was clear he believed that.
He picked up your hand,kissing from your hand up to your arm. "How was your day love?" He asked. "It was okay,how was yours?" You replied. He kissed over the tattoo he gave you a few months ago on your arm. "It was decent,would have been better with you." He responded.
His words always brought a smile to your face. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he picked you up,his hands cupping your ass. He kissed down your neck on the way to your bedroom. He slowly let you go and you sat on the bed.
He sat in between your thighs and they instantly wrapped around behind his back. He gently kissed your lips,your body pushing together. "Missed your lips." He mumbled in the skin of your neck. "Can I?" He looked up at you,looking to see if he could take your shirt off. You nodded and he gently pulled it off of your body. You then unclipped and took off your bra for him,letting him having complete access to the top of your body. He kissed your breasts,kissing down to your stomach.
The feeling of his lips on your bare skin made you so excited. You unbuttoned your jeans as Colson spent his time leaving marks from your neck down to your collarbone.The familiar feeling of his fingers tracing hickeys on your neck was satisfying. "God,you really are so beautiful." He got on his knees in front of you,his hands wrapping around your thighs.
"Spread your legs." He told you. You listened,opening your legs as Colson's hands moved away. "I wanna please you." He said,putting his face between your thighs. You allowed his tongue to enter you,your thighs slowly closing around his head. He used his hands to spread them back open again.
He flicked his tongue inside of you,you grabbed his hair for support. "Mm." You moaned,feeling your boyfriend's tongue back in you was a great feeling. His movements sped up,and he started to suck on your clit.
"Mmmm..colson." You moaned out. You knew your moans fueled him. You felt yourself start to clench around him,you let out one more breathy moan before his tongue came out of you. "I was so close." You said. "I know,I know baby. I want to watch as you finish,though." He said.
He got up and he laid on top of you. "I need to watch you cum." He repeated. You knew just seeing you finish could make him finish so quickly. "Mm,Colson please." You said,desperate to feel some form of him again. He trailed his fingers down your neck. He slowly entered you,his full length.
He rested his head on your neck,his thrusts starting off slow. A small gasp left your lips at the sudden movement. “You always feel so good around me.” He praised. He continued his thrusts,increasing the speed. Feeling his dick instead of just his tongue felt amazing.
His hands went to your hair,his fingers tangling themselves in your curls. “Feels so fucking good.” He said again,his breath heavy. He groaned in your ear and you had to practically stop yourself from cumming right then and there. You could feel his thrusts start to slow down,a dead giveaway that he was close,but you knew he couldn’t finish until he watched you finish.
He lifted his head off of your neck,looking you right in your eyes. “Col.” You moaned,the same pit in your stomach from earlier starting to form again. You moved your head,the pleasure making it to hard to focus on him. “You’re close?” He asked,feeling you clench. “Mhm.” You managed to get out.
“Hey,look at me.” He said,followed by a throaty groan. You did as you said,forcing yourself to look him in the eyes as you could barely focus on maintaining the eye contact. “Go ahead,cum.” He said. You nodded,letting yourself release as your head fell onto the pillow. “Fuck.” He moaned. A smile grew on your face,remembering how weak watching you cum makes him. “I’m cumming.” He said,releasing inside of you with multiple groans.
“You looked so beautiful taking me.” He praised,after letting you both come down from your highs. He kissed you as he ran his hand through your slightly sweating hair. “You don’t understand how much I love you.” He spoke into your neck. You held him close to you,your arm wrapped around his back. “I love you,welcome home.” You said.
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justabeautifulgirl · 4 months
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Gotta love that moment when you're out in public with your dad and you're holding hands while walking around town through your favorite stores and in one of the lingerie stores he pushes you up against one of the back walls and starts to unbuckle his pants. You whisper what the fuck does he think he's doing and he tells you to shut up cuz he has to piss and you're nowhere near a bathroom. You squeak out a slightly pained moan through the rough fingers of his hand covering your mouth as he thrusts his fat cock into your ass and unleashes a torrent of hot piss inside you. Once he's done he pulls a buttplug you had bought that day and pops in into you before any piss could leak out and pats your butt. Good boy. He kisses you gently on the mouth and you both hurriedly walk out of the store, its not like you guys were discreet. Everyone saw...
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SHORT STORY TOURNAMENT - FINALS
THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO by Edgar Allen Poe (1846) (link) - tw: death
“I drink,” he said, “to the buried that repose around us.”
THE ONES WHO WALK AWAY FROM OMELAS by Ursula K Le Guin (1973) (link) - tw: child abuse
Do you believe? Do you accept the festival, the city, the joy? No? Then let me describe one more thing. In the basement under one of the beautiful public buildings of Omelas, there is a room. It has one locked door, and no window. ... In the room a child is sitting.
THE YELLOW WALLPAPER by Charlotte Perkins Gilman (1887) (link) - tw: depression, insanity
John is so pleased to see me improve! He laughed a little the other day, and said I seem to be flourishing in spite of my wall-paper. I turned it off with a laugh. I had no intentions of telling him it was because of the wall-paper — he would make fun of me. He might even want to take me away.
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uwmspeccoll · 9 months
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A Feathursday Winter Solstice
Winter moves down on the kingdom, and the days are fanged. In the darkened wood the stiffened trees point sharply upwards to the five-fingered sky, and on the limb of an ash a pigeon is mute, motionless. . . .
Winter has teeth and claws, winter hangs on. His bony fingers wait for any forgotten leaf that hides in the hedge. The afternoon is weighted with silence, it arches over a kingdom, it lakes over it. . . .
Beyond the window pane lies the banked up darkness, but behind it light shines in the child's eyes. To-morrow will come, and Winter will pass on to another kingdom.
These selected lines from British writer James Hanley's (1897-1985) short story The Face of Winter seem to evoke the essence of the Winter Solstice, with its dark somberness and its promise of light, as do the illustrations of crows and a wooded path by Hanley's son, the British artist Liam Hanley (1933-2019). This story was published in Loughton, England by K. A. Ward in an edition of 99 copies signed by the author in 1969.
To-morrow will come, and Winter will pass on to another kingdom.
Wishing you a very happy Winter Solstice!
View posts from Winter Solstices past.
View more Feathursday posts.
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