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EC Compound, Northern Norway Hayley had woken up and knew that something was different. She could tell from experience that it was just the two bags that she was in. The restriction felt as tight as per normal with the two down stuffed restraining bags but there was something else. At several points over her body the pressure felt a little tighter, a little more compressed, a little forced down. Hayley tried to move but she couldn’t move and it wasn’t just within the down cocoon. It as the cocoon that wasn’t moving. It was pretty dark as well. Hayley turned her head on the pillow and although it was dark, she could make out the padded lining. “mmmuuurr..oohhmm…” Hayley moaned as her brain put the pieces together and realised where she was. In that cot contraption that was in the room. The areas that felt tighter were obviously where the straps were holding the down cocoon in place. Why had Elizabeth ordered this? Placing her in this restrictive place with four walls and a ceiling.

After Ocean told Mer that Oscar wanted to talk to him, Mer went up to the beach to see him. He was more confident now and ready to be pushed aside. The way that Ocean talked, it sounded like Oscar was avoiding him to procrastinate against telling him the inevitable. But, Mer knew that he had to face the music and if Oscar didn’t want to be his friend, Mer was prepared. What he was not prepared for was the strange boy who was calling his name on the beach. Where was Oscar? The fact that this strange boy was calling his name but Oscar wasn’t there made Mer pause before he actually went up to him. Mer double checked the bracelet on his wrist and it showed that Oscar had to be nearby. Mer didn’t have enough magical ability to make the location services super pinpointed, but the fact that the bracelet was glowing meant that Oscar was nearby and since it was glowing really bright meant that he was within ten feet of him. The problem was that this guy couldn’t have been Oscar… right? After

For the next few weeks, Mer and Oscar looked through the books that Oscar had checked out and tried to learn as much as possible. The first thing they were able to get down pat was the alphabet. Mer knew the symbols but he wasn't exactly sure what they meant. The merfolk language was different from the human one and so the letters were slightly familiar but didn't make much sense to him. So Oscar had to teach him how to read English as well as sign language. It was hard! But they bonded on the sand and met each other every day. "Okay, so... let's try this one. O-S-C-A-R." He drew the letters in the sand with a stick and then pointed to the first letter. "What is this?" Mer gave the symbol for O in sign language. "Very good. And this one?" They continued until Mer had gotten them all. "Now, put it together." O-S-C-A-R. Mer signed confidently. "What does it mean, though?" Mer thought for a minute and signed the letters to himself, sounding out the letters in his head. Oscar watched him

Factions: Independent: Union of Seekers: Formed in 1400 ASC. Those who seek immaterial...

In the near future, a grim reality awaited those convicted of crimes deemed worthy of the ultimate punishment. In this dystopian tale, inmates found themselves transformed into jesters, their lives forever chained, both figuratively and literally. Forced to live as permanent clowns, they were condemned to wander the halls of a prison, their voices silenced, their every movement imbued with a twisted sense of amusement. Visitors were occasionally permitted inside the prison walls, and it was then that the jester inmates were compelled to perform ridiculous shows, entertaining the onlookers with their forced jests. Among the countless inmates sentenced to this bizarre existence was a young woman by the name of Lily. The day of her arrival at the jester prison was a moment forever etched in her memory. As the towering, iron-clad gates swung open, she stepped hesitantly into a realm she had never imagined. The air was heavy with a lingering sense of despair, the very aura of the prison seemingly suffocating. Lily was led through a labyrinthine maze of arched hallways, her footsteps echoing in the hollow silence. The occasional distant laughter only served to intensify the gravity of her situation. Eventually, she found herself in a dimly lit chamber, where a row of jester costumes adorned the walls. Her heart pounding, Lily approached the table in the center of the room, where a pair of somber prison guards stood solemnly. They handed her a vividly striped outfit, its colors appearing almost garish against the bleak backdrop of the prison. She unfolded the costume, and to her astonishment, she discovered that every piece of clothing was intricately adorned with tiny bells. Like a discordant symphony, these bells would jingle with each step she took, an audible reminder both to herself and others of her new existence as a jester. Overwhelmed with mixed emotions, Lily began to undress. She carefully removed her ordinary attire, relinquishing them to a forgotten past. As she donned the striped vest and pants, it felt as though she was putting on a persona rather than a mere costume. In that singular moment, Lily transformed from a person into a representation of mockery, forever confined to the role of the fool. Next came the oversized, floppy shoes. Each shoe was comically enormous, making it near impossible to walk with grace or dignity. The discomfort of the ill-fitting footwear only served to amplify Lily's sense of powerlessness. Lastly, she reached for the iconic clown wig, vibrant and unruly, a crown of absurdity. As she adjusted the wig upon her head, she caught her reflection in a cracked mirror. The once familiar face gazed back at her, now distorted by exaggerated makeup and a painted-on smile which concealed her inner turmoil. Dressed in her jester uniform, Lily took her first hesitant steps into the prison's central courtyard. The jingling of her costume's bells seemed to reverberate throughout the desolate space, filling the air with an eerie soundtrack to her sorrow. For the remainder of that day, and every day thereafter, Lily's existence became a monotonous routine. She walked the prison's halls, her chains dragging at her ankles, her voice forever suppressed. Her days melded together, each one more indistinguishable than the last. When visitors were allowed into the prison, Lily would be shuffled onto a makeshift stage, forced to perform clownish antics for their fleeting amusement. With every exaggerated stumble, every ridiculous gesture, she begrudgingly obliged, her self-worth fading further into the shadows. In the solitude of her cell, Lily would often imagine a different world, a world where chains did not bind her and ridicule did not define her. A world where she could exist as nothing more than herself, free to express her thoughts and dreams without being trapped in the perpetual mockery of a jester's existence. But in the jester prison, such dreams were nothing more than a desperate flicker in the darkness, for Lily and countless others like her were destined never to escape the irony of their fate. The jingling of bells would forever echo, a constant reminder of their transformation into permanent clowns, bound by invisible chains that would follow them to their grave.

When I realized what my father was about to do I started panicking; being tied up by my own Dad was one thing, but being seen by someone else was something I definitely wanted to avoid, but unfortunately for me I was no position do anything about it. With my arms and legs bound with rope and hogtied I could only lie on the couch, waiting for the turns of events. Unable to speak I could only watch the muscular, shirtless police office walk to the door, still holding the unlit cigar between his teeth. When he disappeared from my sight I started struggling like crazy, hoping that maybe this time I would have more luck and somehow manage to wiggle my hands free from the ropes. After a few seconds it once again turned out that my father was an expert at roping; all my efforts got me nowhere. I was now panting heavily and sweating like crazy, both from the struggling and anxiety. I really hoped that my Dad would fob off whoever was standing by the door, but after a moment I heard two men

Tony started to wake up. He was in that place of half awake-half asleep. He was becoming more awake and noticed a faint headache which was seemingly on it's way out. He lay there, thinking of what he had to do that day. He went to roll over on his side and couldn't. That brought him fully awake and he was a little shocked when he opened his eyes. He was on his back in a strange room. It was about the size of his bedroom, but it wasn't his. He was in a cinderblock walled room which seemed to be empty but for the twin bed he was laying on. He saw the door to the room opposite where he was laying. His jacket hung on the door, which had no knob, only what looked like a keyhole. He saw the reason he could not roll over. HIs wrists were tied in front of him, resting on his stomach. They were tied tightly as he tried to move them. He saw he still had his watch on and saw it was going on 1:00, though night or day he didn't know. His ankles were tied together, and there were thick leather

“Are we lost?” Odilia frowned. She frowned at the trees around her, and the uneven, and unfamiliar terrain. She frowned ahead, the narrow and winding route she'd picked as 'some' kind of track, and back the way they'd come, where it seemed not to be any kind of track at all. She peered at Connlan, perched on Darroch's saddle, as she led the mighty horse along by the reins, and favoured the boy with a gentle smile. Pausing in their tracks, halting the great horse, she waited a moment. The forest was still, the air thick and humid. She wiped her brow with her arm. She had dressed down, somewhat, for the climate. A ruffled light cloth blouse, that left her shoulders bare, tucked into thin but sturdy green riding breeches. Tall brown walking boots and a quilted headscarf tied over her hair, keeping her long tresses back from her face. “Of course not.” She reached out, tilted up his chin just so, and then playfully flicked his nose. She would not, nay, could not tell Connlan that

(TW: not r*pe but r*pe adjacent. also tarnishing of a beloved figure (temporarily) Happy Holidays!) I was home from college for the holidays when I had my encounter with the so-called "Santa Robber." I'd been out with my friends and had come home late, after midnight. I was pretty buzzed and kinda high. But in a great mood. I'd kissed a certain redheaded Vassar sophomore at Fudd's Tap that I'd been dreaming about for years. My parents were asleep. I was watching It's a Wonderful Life on my iPad up in my room, when I decided I wanted a nightcap. I knew my mom had Truly's in the fridge and I was pretty sure she wouldn't miss one. So I came downstairs. I was just in my underwear but I figured it didn't matter since no one was up. I walked through the living room into the den towards the kitchen and that's when I saw him. He was standing there in his red suit, his red Santa cap on, his long white beard down to his chest. And as I say I was little f'ed up so i thought for a moment, "Oh

Part 3 Tyler was beyond pissed. He’d been kidnapped, bound, gagged, cut his leg open, and scared out of his mind all because his older brother was an idiot. And now he was tied to said brother. Plus, his leg hurt. And yet, all they could do was stare at each other with their arms bound around the other’s waist. Tyler had instantly started struggling the moment he’d woken up. The struggles turned futile and all it did was cause Brett to grunt muffled curses at him. The tears came next. The heat from shear embarrassment flushed his cheeks as he pressed his head against his older brother’s chest and let the tears fall freely. He hadn’t cried like this since Brett left for college. He’d only been eleven then after all and it wasn’t fair. Brett could offer little comfort to resolve Tyler’s muffled cries. He laid there and wished he could take it all back. He really did. He’d hurt Tyler in a desperate attempt to save his own skin. That was something he couldn’t take back. Eventually,