Chrysalis Ch2: The Market by HeartGear, literature
Literature
Chrysalis Ch2: The Market
The Leannán sídhe, or Fae mistress, will prostitute itself to any knave fool enough to trade in blood for lust and inspiration. Vampiric in her tendencies, once the pact is made only a maddened life and early death await the man; save he find an even more fool soul to fill his unholy contract. There is a trick to her, however. A gift to us mortals. Deny the vile mistress her offerings, and she is cursed to be your slave for however long you may live. And may you live a long life, good sir, for what a lucky man such as yourself might do with such an exotic whore at his disposal, I leave entirely to your imagination. -From the writing desk of Alastor O'Reilly, 1827 There are no dreams. No strange narratives or visitations. Just a white blanket of light...soft. Warm and soothing. Familiar but distant, comforting... Intoxicating. He drifts through a haze of static and lost time. "..." The first thing to return is his hearing. Something pops, followed by a long, drawn-out
Chrysalis Ch1 : The Hidden by HeartGear, literature
Literature
Chrysalis Ch1 : The Hidden
The fae can appear as we do, with their glamours and trinkets... but a seasoned hunter knows the ways to pull their quarry out of its dank burrow. Invite it in but refuse its bid for departure, and you will see it trapped at your threshold as surely as though it were met by stone and mortar. Hold its hands to iron and see it sizzle and thrash, begging for release. Take out its eye and observe a certain iridescence... something beyond mortal constitution. Use these tools to discover those rats among us The hidden in our midst. -From the writing desk of Alastor O'Reilly, 1823 The neon sign of Cro Mart flickers, giving off a slight buzz just outside the little late night convenience store. Moths flutter nearby, fascinated by the light, occasionally bumping against the little tubes. On the other side of the glass is a young man in a half-tucked red uniform, a green jacket pulled loosely over in spite of the stale atmosphere. His face is upturned, dark hair tumbling back as he
He shouldn’t have let go. If he hadn’t, if he had managed to hold on to the monkey bars, then he wouldn’t have fallen down. If he hadn’t fallen down, Marcus wouldn’t have looked back before he could turn away. He wouldn’t have seen him crying, or yelled for the boy’s mother, or… He is eight and a half years old. The world around him is alight with color, crackling red-orange leaves and strangers in bright jackets, children running back and forth playing games he knows he can’t join in. He shivers miserably inside his over-large coat, sniffling and looking down at the bright red marks across his palms. The monkey bars are all the way on the other end of the playground, but the smell they gave off when he grabbed them hasn't dissipated. Frost and icicles and winter storms. His mother fishes a tube of ointment out of her purse, squeezing the paste out onto his mutely-offered hands with a squeak. It’s strong, the medicinal smell covering up the cold, even if he knows it hasn’t gone
Tight Fit (TG)
By ThatGuy
This wasn’t Lochan’s first day at a convention, let alone his first time in cosplay. He’d had some pretty spectacular appearances over the years, if he said so himself. He was very proud of his take on Spawn: it nearly went viral.
Wedging himself in and out of that thing had taken all day, but he was a rookie back then. He was a lot smarter about things like sizes. Now, all he had to worry about was style.
It could still be uncomfortable sometimes, but to him it was the best feeling in the world. He was usually a timid sort of guy, but when he put on a costume it was like letting out his inner ro
Whatever Happened To Irwin Lars - TG by ThatGuyInThatCorner, literature
Literature
Whatever Happened To Irwin Lars - TG
Whatever Happened to Irwin Lars? - TG
By ThatGuy
It wasn't any small occasion to bring most of the boys of Tanner’s Gorge High together, all at once. Like any high school, most of the student body didn’t get along. It was a small enough school that everyone knew each other, but they had their cliques and clubs, their friends and enemies. It was hard to imagine a large group of them working together for any good length of time.
But this group, with as many of the male student body as they could find, still came together in times of crisis. Their meeting hall was a dilapidated old warehouse that a small bunch of them used to explo
Flu Season - TG by ThatGuyInThatCorner, literature
Literature
Flu Season - TG
Flu Season - TG
By ThatGuy
Donny woke with a big yawn and a very satisfying stretch. That had been a really good night’s sleep. No dreams, at least none that he could remember, but he could hardly remember feeling so rested. Already, this felt like maybe it was going to be a pretty cool day. He rose up out of the covers with a huge grin… that slowly slid off his face as he pulled himself up.
Something felt off. He was off balance, and his chest felt… heavy. With a pained grimace, he glanced down and groaned. Just as he feared: boobs. “Oh, perfect,” he grumbled, not even needing to hear the alien softness of h
Make Me Marble - TG Caption by majorkerina, literature
Literature
Make Me Marble - TG Caption
Art by Bethany Weaver
Story by MajorKerina
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Mitchell squinted at the item on the small table at the back of the Goodwill store. It sat between an old D&D Player's Handbook and some goblin figurines which had never been painted. It was a single marble.
The marble appeared to catch the light, despite being so far back. It was inside a generic plastic box, which looked like it was originally meant for a puzzle cube. Inside, it rested upon a purple, dimpled cushion, like a little beanie pancake. A metal band attached to the side of it and led to a tan piece of paper resting under the cushion.
Intrigued, Mitchell examined it. No mat
"I'm leaving", Marin clutched her suitcase tightly to quit her hand from shaking. Though the case dragged heavily on her wrist, she had marveled when she was done packing that everything in her life fit inside something she could hold.
"You can't leave, F03165! We have work to do!" Martin howled like her two, simple words had struck him as a blade in the leg.
"My name is Marin. And I can leave whenever I want." She shifted her hold on the case, briefly wondering if she might need to bludgeon him with it. The others would surely jump on her if she attacked him. For now, only a few had quit from their normal routines to watch.
"Your name is