And they all look just the same

Originally posted April 8, 2022   on my Patreon.

Content warnings: corporate capitalism’s cruelty, being mean to dolls, and pet stores.

“I heard that there’s a new dollmaker moving into town.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they’re setting up at the old mushroom farm. Everyone in the market was buzzing about it.”

“Who?”

“One of the big corporate ones, I think—”

Your witch barely reacts, but with her hands inside your open chest the barest reaction is all it takes. A tiny shudder, just enough to turn the tuning probe off course; it hits a taut string and your entire body shakes. It’s like licking a power outlet, like holding your hand to a hot stove—

Rue’s Waxy Friend

Originally posted to Twitter on August 8, 2022   .

With the click of a button the room fills with the mournful sounds of a funerary dirge, a piano’s mournful notes weaving through droning prayers and grief-filled tears. The music drips down the cold stone walls and across the marble slab—

“Ugh, it’s so cold in here …”

The body on the slab shifts just enough to stare at its companion. She’s shivering in a lacy black dress and mourning veil, nipples hard and skin goosebumped.

Heaven’s Light

Originally posted to Twitter on September 16, 2022   .

They say that light hangs timeless in an eternal now.

They say that each glimmer of starlight is a glimpse of grace; that heaven lurks among those twinkling pinpricks and only light will ever be truly saved, in that eternity lingering between emission and absorption.

They lie.

It’s obvious if you have the nose to smell it. Few do, and fewer bother.

The Soft Sound of Flocking Angels

Originally posted to Twitter on December 15, 2021   .

“Did you know,” she says, “that the average person can endure less than five minutes of direct exposure to Her before their timeline is completely overwritten?”

You, bound and gagged on the floor of the temple’s airlock, can only nod in response. Everyone knows that.

She grins at you. “Unintelligent matter is rewritten faster, of course, and living wood endures surprisingly well—that’s why your rebellion was so excited when they found the asteroid forest, right? Sucks for you that we got here first.”

A Migraine is like A Throne

Originally posted to Twitter on January 18, 2022   .

Fleeting waves of mirage haze sleeting across my eyes like rot’s reeking spore, each flexing the world’s bounds further still—walls bow against absent pressure and cracks grow into gaping doors, and all the while the shimmering gem of aura’s heart eats and eats and eats—

That brightly lit not-mouth, an angel dancing at the center of my vision; it’s odd how similar a mouth and a wing and an eye can look, you know, how feathers are just teeth seen by someone who’s still waiting to be taught how to be a victim.

scour the flesh with cleansing heat

Originally posted to Twitter on August 13, 2022   , and a week earlier on Patreon   .

content notes: child viewpoint, cults, grooming, gaslighting, vague body horror, self-harm as worship.

“Mommy!” You cry as she’s just about to walk out the door, “I want to go worship with you!”

Her scarred flesh wrinkles into a smile as she laboriously reaches down to ruffle your hair.

The Morning’s Pains

Originally posted to Twitter on August 7, 2022   .

Pain attends her even in her dreams, a writhing tapestry thrown all across her dreamscape—buried in scraps of imagery, hidden in the shattered rooms of her failing dreams, and nestled all about her not-body. Stranger than in her waking hours, both more and less urgent—

But when dreams end the pain remains.

She groans as she wakes, feeling the knots curling through her back and the bundles of unoiled needles flexing in her joints; her elbows burn and her knees scream and hungry-mouthed snakes curl in her thighs and all through her belly—