makyo
/
zk
1
0
Fork 0
Code Issues Pull Requests Projects Releases Wiki Activity

update from sparkleup

This commit is contained in:
Madison Scott-Clary 2024-01-06 09:45:04 -08:00
parent 237a535516
commit f4da733569
1 changed files with 2 additions and 2 deletions
Show Stats Download Patch File Download Diff File Expand all files Collapse all files

4
writing/post-self/motes/004.md
View File

@ -8,7 +8,7 @@ She was toyed with. She was dangled by the scruff over the ledge. She was held a
Motes was played with. She was laughed at. She was belittled and torn down.
The things she loved were turned to ash, astringent and bitter. All of the play she had at the point of a knife was turned fraught with peril. All of the play with death became a threat.
The things she loved were turned astringent and bitter. All of the play she had at the point of a knife was turned fraught with peril. All of the play with death became a threat.
All of her play, all of that work she had put into reclaiming all that had been done to her in so many lives, to turning it into a joy or a kink or simple boredom was destroyed. It was the taking of good things and turning them not into something bad, for that was simple guilt, but it was the taking of good things and turning them into something she hated, she resented, she was terrified of. All of the times that she had laughed with joy as she fell to the strike of a sword or the bullet from a gun or the point of a knife in some game or at the hands of some lover were turned to wrongnesses.
@ -46,7 +46,7 @@ Michelle/Sasha sneered through that omnipresent exhaustion. "Some mote who style
In her free hand/paw, this ghost brought into being a dagger, silver-bladed, wood-hilted, ruby-pommeled. She reached out and slowly, almost tenderly, pressed it into Motes's paw. Holding her wrist, she brought that paw up so that the tip of the blade was pressed against the skunk's neck, pricking at the skin over her jugular. When she let go, Motes found her paw remained there, immobile, unresponsive to her efforts to pull it away.
"This is your kink, is it not 'Motes'? Your fetish, 'Speck'? 'Skunklet'?" Sasha/Michelle leaned forward, nearly nose to nose, whispered, "'Dóttir'?"
"This is your kink, is it not 'Motes'? Your fetish, 'Speck'? 'Skunklet'?" Sasha/Michelle leaned forward, nearly nose to nose, whispered, "*'Dóttir'?*"
Motes sobbed. "Please..." she managed at last.