LeatherHow did I end up here?Leather3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
That's the million dollar question. Connie has never felt very comfortable with sex. Penises always weirded her out, really badly too. And just men, in general seemed... unclean? Sweaty? And God forbid she think about the female anatomy in that way. Even in art school, when experimentation was probably a required course, she stayed away from parties and "study" groups.
And now, here Connie was, standing in a fetish shop, looking at leather wear. She wants to die. Stupid Worth and her stupid fetishes. Connie desperately wants to kick something. She vaguely wonders if Worth likes handcuffs. Then shakes her head. No,
Harold is Not a Girl's Name 1She was the kind of girl that attracted looks everywhere she went, but not exactly in the way most people wanted. Mismatched colors, carefree smile, eccentric tastes in stores, and a high-pitched giggle that brought the city streets to a standstill. It was only natural that everyone knew her, or at least of her. The only problem was, she was always being called down to government offices to fix the "errors" on her paperwork.Harold is Not a Girl's Name 13 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Nobody believed her when she said her name was Harold Falk Cross.
And listing yourself as a self-employed paranormal investigator was always a recipe for trouble, since it wasn't really a "legitimate" occupation sinc
a good girlVesela Amaker Hatch was a good kid gone terribly wrong.a good girl3 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
She insisted this to everyone. They would stare at her when she shuffled around at two in the morning, ask her why she was out past curfew and she would have to produce her ID so many times because she was fucking nineteen and she could be out as late as she wanted, thank you very much. She didn't need permission from the fuzz please and thank you. Just because she was a girl, just because she didn't give a flying fuck when old men tried to corner them (just slammed their heads into the brick and walked away), just because she had scars she was proud of. She had survived the beating
WitchcraftYou have salt. Because it burns.Witchcraft3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Milk under the window.
around your bed.
Even some Holy Water. Maybe
And things that protect you
from yourself. Things that
singe arm hair
Can kill you.
You have salt, because it burns. Lick your finger, coat it in salt. Shove it in a cut. Float in the tub.
"I guess I am a bride of Satan," you mumble to the ceiling. Laugh. Loud, echoing through the moldy bathroom. Pull yourself up.
Brush your teeth naked. Thin. Ribs and vertabrae. Breasts like goose pimples. Way to tiny. Angular. Sharp, jutting hip bones. Blood in the tooth