JACKSHORTlE'S COMMS ＿〆(。。)
JACKSHORTlE'S WRITING
COMMS ＿〆(。。)
Examples
For additional examples, like NSFW, please contact me.
CW: Dysphoria, suicidal thoughtsStrings attached. One on each wrist, bound tight. They hurt, scratching the fair skin. Vil wondered if it was worth resisting, but feared it would only dig deeper if he dared to pull. He tried to calm his breathing, lying down on the asphalt of the busy street. Everyone that passes at least takes a glance, others stare and some of the worst even take a photo. He knew none of their faces, but he was certain they all knew him. However, no one helps him. He remains bound to the ground, waiting as inevitably a black carriage runs him over. It was bound to happen at some point. Vil wishes it would come very soon, yet it appeared to be dragged out to enhance his suffering.It was hot, the burning sun and the pavement beneath him. There was nothing he could do but blow the hair out of his face, although they were weak attempts. He felt ugly, drowning in his own sweat as his hair got messier with each struggle. Looking around, the helplessness started to sink in. The realisation that he was nothing more but a doll to his audience. The strings that controlled him were in the hands of the public.He was nothing more now but a vulnerable doll. It felt naked, shameful. Every piece of skin that was exposed between his robes he hated. He knew he was not ugly, yet he wanted to hide the entirety of his being until the carriage would come and take his life.-Continued-
It was not until more people started dancing, Malleus’ fingers creeped across the tablecloth closer, his long nails just scratching Leona’s knuckles carefully. Leona pressed his hand down right on top of Malleus’, a sign to stop him. “Get that idea out of your head right now. I’m not dancing.”Malleus grinned with malice, “Yes you are.”“No I’m not.”Malleus turned towards him, grabbing both his hands with care. “You are going to reject the prince of Briar Valley at his own ball? I doubt that will do nicely for the international relationship between us and Sunset Savanna.”“As if anyone cares what the second prince is doing. I am next to a regular citizen to most.” Despite his words, Leona let Malleus pull him to stand upright, taking small steps towards the centre of the floor.“Not to me,” Malleus lifted Leona’s hands above his head, making him do a single turn under his guidance, “I care plenty about you.”Leona returned the favour, turning Malleus twice before finally getting into the swaying of the music, “Is this your attempt at a courting display?” He raised an eyebrow, realising this was looking awfully similar to a mating dance.“Only if you wish for it to be. If not, we are simply two lonely princes enjoying ourselves together.” They moved to the melody, not following any official ballroom dancing rules. Not because they liked breaking rules, rather because they did not know any. Their dancing was merely an improvisation of giving and taking the lead, trying to follow the directions given by the other simply through body language. Sometimes it worked, creating beautiful choreographies, and sometimes they would mess up. It made it much more fun, though.
-Continued-
Segment from Unpublished novel [Avarice - Prologue]
The alarm was so loud, so distracting. A ringing in the ears with the intent of distracting the mind, captivating the soul away from his focus. His eyes flew over the complex words, shifting back a line as he mispronounced the difficult language. Fingers clenched tighter around the open book while the sentries’ footsteps dashed closer at a fast rate. He was at the last verse, the final quatrain to initiate what he himself had named as ‘the beginning’. His tongue caught between the harsh sounds, he repeated the phrase, fighting to get them right when nerves were at their peak.
In a red-light room, sirens and flashes accentuate danger. The room was humongous, especially for one single item. Although, it parallels well with the importance of the book. He stood right in the middle, a thick mist overpowering the oxygen and the floor surrounding him in shattered glass. The shards foretold bad luck, but to let superstition get a hold of him now would be foolishly stupid.
White walls with shiny ornaments run up the marble pillars in each corner of the heptagon. They were fake veins painted gold, wrapping themselves around the towers that were tall enough to touch the clouds. In the centre of it all, a glass dome served as its roof.
Another time one could have been lost in the charm of clouds gazing through the perfectly sheer window, but being circled by a dozen cameras ruined the lustful urge. They were all pointed at a broken see-through showcase with an empty standard. Below, a stone pier split in two horizontally. Intentionally, as the missing middle part was filled with cogs, carefully placed that it had found balance to hold up the top half. Extraordinary craftsmanship to indicate that balance is of utmost importance, a symbolism of equilibrium. A small sign had been added to elaborate on the museum piece and its origins.
Doors were rattled with and pounded into until the wood started to cave under the pressure guards were performing. He shouted the closing saying of his spell loudly and hopeful, praying it would reach this book’s power and unleash it.
“...so it be done.”
The words echoed against the round room, clashing against all the seven walls as he held his breath, waiting for the book’s response.
It lit up with an orange hue, turning hot as fire immediately. Despite wearing brown leather clothes, the heath rushed through fabric into his skin and caused him to drop the book.
However, once it hit the floor, nothing else happened. He assumed it was in anticipation of something more, having almost its own personality. Even so, surely he knew what it wanted, he studied everything there was about this magical piece. Therefore, it gave satisfaction knowing that everything that happened thus far was according to the expectations he had put down for himself.
He yanked off his right-hand glove, discarding it between the glass shards without care. Bringing it to his mouth - stuffing the pad of his thumb between teeth - he bit off a piece of skin. The taste of blood spread over his taste buds quickly. Disgusted by it, he spat out his own flesh with a loud tuf. The fingerprintless thumb started gathering blood, dripping down his hand as he shifted his focus back to the glowing book. He held out his self-inflicted hand right above it, begging for a drop to fall. While pushing the skin towards each other, hoping to quicken the process, his fear grew. The fear that once the doors will break down, the guards would at any moment pull him away and lock him up in Undertaker’s Asylum. He closed his eyes shut, eradicating those insecure thoughts and the immense urge to look back.
The driblet finally made its way towards the book. It hit the page, slowly spreading like ink across the dirty pages. The light from it got intense, blinding him completely. Despite the discomfort, he knew this meant having succeeded, so it was rather a blessed sign if anything. Refusing to look away, his eyes prickled as the success unfolded. A portal opened beneath his feet right before he fell through. Intense wind played with his body as he plunged into the destination that he conjured up in his mind. No one else would know where he went, and therefore he could no longer be caught, as long as not in this world. Although, they all knew what his goal was. After all, he was not the first to try.
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Per 1k words: €7
(From 10k words on the price per 1k words becomes €5)[E.g 3k words: (3 x 7) = €21
E.g. 14k words: (10 x 7) + (4 x 5) = €90 euros]Additional €1 fee for NSFW content per 1k words
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