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Fake Hand - E.V.A.

They’ve just fucked, twice, and Pete is smiling, sex stupid and sleepy, face buried in a mess of blankets and pillows and sheets and Jim is running his fingers through his hair, and it’s been awhile longer than he thought since Blandus handled Rhonwen, looks like, because there’s over a solid inch of burnt red to work with. Jim says, since he's been meaning to for a few weeks or so anyway, “We should get a place together.” Pete turns his head to bite at Jims wrist, whole mouth coming open, teeth clamping down hard like a dog or a wolf or coyote or some shit. It’s... typical Peter Pan. Jim ignores it. “Big place, nice natural light, like. Windows, wood floors, whatever you want. You can pick.

Dawning by G.P. DeSalvo

Sobbing flesh bags, swinging strips of scar tissue suspended by hooks- studded straps- ceiling to floor and in the corner. Crimson drapes flow heavy, snuffing light. The room hangs dense with human musk. Delicate stainless steel instruments, household tools and undergarments are strewn across the heavy planking: noises, street sounds and crashing cars… trash blowing in from some dawn soaked suburban ghetto. This is where they are. Moaning for deliverance, desperate measures and all. The one with the burnished, pulled skin and lidless obsidian eyes steps forward. You feel the piddle building inside. But, you've got questions, your desires trump your judgments. The concentrated scent of

Full Panic by Elizabeth Victoria Aldrich

Quinn asks what drugs I’m on when he catches me vomiting into a trash can behind the venue in Chicago. I don’t bother to act like I’m ashamed because I’m not and so I tell him and he lets out a low whistle, sounds impressed. Asks conversationally, “You’re kind of a fuckup, aren’t you?” “Aren’t we all?” I swipe the hem of my dress across my face and pull out my Zippo and a tube of Pat McGrath Full Panic to run damage control. He’s staring at me and I raise an eyebrow. “What?” “Do you need them or are you just drug-seeking?” “There’s no such thing as just drug-seeking. Look,” I say, between easy, creamy swipes of bright pink. Why do you take drugs?” He’s silent for at least two minutes but my

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