[meme] This looks fun.

[xirysa]

Stolen from hooves, who, I believe, got it from amielleon.

Most of my flist are writers with a few artists tossed in. Although I don't always comment on your posts, I do (mostly) always read them. I do, however, notice styles, details, certain turns of phrase that are uniquely...you, or at least I think I do

Comments

tw: captivity, violence, sexual violence

[anonymous]

"Dominique is dead."

We know. We know and do not mourn because she has flown away.

"She flew away," we say.

"No," she insists. "She's dead." And the tears keep running down her dirty cheeks, her eyes red. The men will not like her puffy eyes and the mucus running over her lips. No, they only like that it is at their hands.

x

Dominique loved to watch birds, so we watch them now.

She had a secret, and we will learn what it is.

x

The newest girl sobs, "This is hell."

We cover her body the remnants of her clothes and hide her shame. "No," we reply, "This is - "

x

She does not bother to hide her meeting with this strange man.

"Tell me about life here," he chokes out.

"I carry their supplies, cook. They come at night."

"Who?"

"The men."

"...and?"

Come back, we tell her, come back to us.

No. She shakes her head of twisted hair. I am going to be free with this man.

warning: violence?

[anonymous]

So this is how I end. Like this.

There were worse ways, surely, but he couldn't imagine them. There couldn't be anything worse than his hands clutching at the gash in his side, hot and damp and dark with his own blood, the taste of metal and dirt at his lips, the slow, steady throb of his limbs and his head as he waited for everything to end.

And it didn't come. No, instead, he felt hands snaking through his hair and against his scalp, ripping him upward in a harsh, sweeping arc. He thought it was a blade he felt against his throat, a mercy, really.

Yes, do it now, he thought for a moment, as his throat seized and he let loose a deep, rasping cough. There was some reason once that he hadn't wanted to die, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember it over the ever present pain.

Not until he opened his eyes and caught his attacker's gaze: icy, indifferent. Fighting for nothing, going through the motions. No, there was no way he'd die at the hands of someone like that.

[anonymous]

Filthy, derelict, inexpressibly sad, like a cathedral after a bombing raid