116.678 and The Monster

116.678 wakes in the back of a van, hivedreams slowly receding as its lonelyself comes back to the surface. It hurts as it always does, but its two service dolls are fussing around it, and there’s the familiar fullness of fresh tanks slotting into its back, so it’s okay.

It’s fine.

It hurts, but there’s the warm reassurance of hivethoughts lapping at its most distant thoughts, the reassuring hum and flicker all through the wires that grow like lichen across the van’s surface, the feeling of its dolls easing it back into the world.

Sweetly Bleeding Eyes

False-color blood flows in neon spurts, rivulets painting her cheek in a tie-dye tapestry her ruined eyes will never see. She knows her own taste all too well, can’t help but letting her tongue dart out to grab a few more drops, to soak up the vibrance pooling on her lips—

Of course she can’t see you looking, but she notices nevertheless; tilts her face up, gore-filled sockets staring into your too-eager eyes, licks her lips one last time, and—

What Is a Moth?

“What is a moth?” a witchling asks; an innocent question, just a glimmer of the voracious hunger that set her along her path.

She does not understand the look on her teacher’s mask, the strange reflection in its mother-of-pearl eyes.

“Find out for yourself,” it finally answers.

She is not yet wise enough to understand what it really means; young and hungry enough to believe in her own immortality with a strength that almost makes it real. And so she does not take her time to prepare: she slips away as soon as she can find a chance to.

Drink Up, My Dear

“Here, my dear. Take it.”

The glass is heavy in your hand, solid crystal and the flickering liquid within. You’re not shaking, not yet, but it moves as if you are, shuddering against your skin just like you shuddered under her as she prepared you for this.

It takes so long to wring the sin out of someone, especially someone like you; you can’t help but blush as you think about it, eyes downcast and thighs pressed together, but that’s okay. Shame and desire aren’t sins—she wouldn’t lie to you about that.