Excerpt
Stitch: The Lore of Sara Foxgrave.
Rubbing her eyes as she wakes, sitting in the corner of the hissing shipping vessel as it settled against the dock at Bath Iron Works, steam rising from its rust‑bitten hull like the ship itself was exhaling. Sara Foxgrave stepped off the gangway with her duffel slung over one shoulder, boots hitting the wet pavement with a dull thud. The rain was already coming down hard, soaking through her clothes in seconds.
By Syl De'Vilabout a month ago in Fiction
Venom
She was all venom. The bright exotic colors of personality that would draw you in. Her easy laugh, her intelligence, her eccentric splashes of style- a bit of fur- feathers- a touch of lace draped in rich jewel tones. All of it the perfect picture to draw you deeper, deeper into the touch of crazy, a back story of trauma. Not quite a princess that needs saving- not quite a maiden needing a shield- but maybe if you can save her. Draw you deeper. Her flirtatious fun, her hips, the curves of her body, tight skin soft to the touch, faint outlines of muscle. When your body finds the form of hers and she rolls her body- the obvious grind, ever inviting you in. Deeper into the damage bits- the way she loves so intensely and equates your needs- your sexual desires as a must for your joy. Always saying yes, fractures in the worth of the soul- the touch of crazy. And it's all venom in your vein, ecstasy running like liquid lightening through your brain until the picture is illuminated and shatters. Shatters into a million shards that burns through the veins, the truth drips out like venom and she knows. Knows that you see her too clearly. So she burns your world, casting herself and all you know of her into the void. And she cuts another person down, as simple as drawing a blade across her thigh. Bright red penance for the destruction. The ripples spreading out as blood drips into the night. As she draws the blade up her a wrists. Bright red blood that starts to run in rivers. A river of pain that can drown out all the accusations, all the sins, the people she broke. Those who stood and fought her. For all the venom she gave the world she throws herself deeper into the void. Until the blood takes all the heat, all the pain and it runs away into the void. Her body cold and lifeless, all venom and all void.
By Maili Paulabout a month ago in Fiction
Silk Through History and Into the Future.
Silk is one of the most remarkable materials in human history. It has never been merely a luxurious fabric; for thousands of years, it has influenced trade, politics, science, industry, art, and culture. From its ancient origins in China to its role in connecting East and West through the Silk Road, silk became a symbol of refinement, wealth, and technological skill.
By Sayed Zewayedabout a month ago in Fiction
Day 22
Although this is over a day and a half later, I stayed in the cavern for 30 fucking hours; the last seven were me sleeping, so I'm showing up now. Keep in mind that’s what I was told, as feeling well rested is not an experience I’m familiar with, now or ever. I woke alone on one of those cots in that eight-by-ten-foot bedroom/workshop. A light shone from the ladder hole, one that fucked with my migraine personally; it must be hell. The feeling that I could piss a new waste system in this cavern, outside of the hole I watered the first tree that was remotely at the top of a slope to get the least as possible on my bare feet. The sun was attacking me with solar lemon juice, so that was more out of my piss-outside-etiquette than I could concern myself with. Not that I could see at the start of my eyes adjusting, but this was a jaw-dropping sight to behold of the swamp glowing to life in a flurry of insects and birds bursting into the sky for the hunt. My frontal male nudity may or may not have been part of the shock for the others. However, once I regained my vision, my quest for the missing 30 hours began, not due to the nudity but— “What the shit happened to my god damn arm?! Bandaged like my stroking out trigger their stroking.”
By Willem Indigoabout a month ago in Fiction
Burden
"You are a coward!" " A what!? " "You, all of you. Eldar or whatever you freaks call yourselves. Ha! I've met a smattering of you, and in human terms let me tell you that's a lot, each and every one is Corruption-bent. 'Do not suffer the orc to live,' is the proverb, isn't it? But you run at the first sign of-"
By Alexander McEvoy2 months ago in Fiction
Now Boarding . Top Story - August 2026.
Despite Kelsey’s best efforts in the art of self restraint, all she thought about while standing in the boarding line was how divinely handsome he was. There was something about his chin as he looked out over the tarmac that said “I can cook a meal, pay the bills, and still nerd out over a video game, but in a way that’s cute and not smelly.”
By Matthew J. Fromm2 months ago in Fiction
The Tree of Knowledge Is Growing Again—and This Time It Thinks
I would like to have a conversation about this Tree of Knowledge and how it may pertain to our situation today—our situation with the blossoming of artificial intelligence, and of intelligence itself, for that matter.
By Chase McQuade2 months ago in Fiction
Nighthawks
"Last call," the man behind the counter joked as he sat my cup of black coffee down in front of me. I knew it was polite to laugh, or even smile, but I didn't. Couldn't. Not yet. I still had on my slicker and hat. A fedora pulled down low to cover my eyes. To cover what was behind them.
By Raine Fielder3 months ago in Fiction
