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Deerly Delectable

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Alla Horne

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“Die Krankheit hatte den Panzer ihrer Vorurteile und ihrer Ansprüche gesprengt; vielleich, weil sie diese Art Selbstschutz nicht mehr brauchte. Von Verzicht, von Aufopferung war keine Rede mehr: ihre Vornehmste Pflicht war, wieder gesund zu werden, das heißt, sich um sich zu kümmern; da sie sich ohne Bedenken ihren Wünschen und ihren Freuden überließ, war sie endlich von der Verbitterung befreit. Ihre Schönheit, ihr Lächeln kehrten zurück und drückten auf diesem Totenlager eine stille Selbstzufriedenheit, eine Art Glück aus.”

ZufriedenheitBefreiungTotenbett
Book:A Very Easy Death
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“What I was, and still partially am, is socially disorientated. My social equilibrium is out of whack, punched out like I was in a boxing match, and only recently have I felt like I can actually differentiate life phases and recognize if my life is moving, spinning, or standing still. Later we will see if I’ll go full circle with this boxing analogy and end up being punch-drunk in twenty-plus years. There are so many hits you can take, but I am optimistic since I’ve learned how to roll with the punches.”

BoxingAnalogyIntersexSex ChangePussified
Book:Pussified: A sex change story I didn't have the balls to tell
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“Jacin’s fingers curled around his knife. It was torture. Jacin looked more afraid than when he’s stood on trial. More afraid than when his torso had been stripped raw from the lashings. This was the last time she would ever see him. This was her last moment. Her last breath. Suddenly, all of the politics and all of the games stopped mattering. Suddenly, she felt daring. “Jacin,” she said, with a shaky smile. “You must know. I cannot remember a time when I didn’t love you. I don’t think such a time ever existed.” His eyes filled with a thousand emotions. But before he could say whatever he would say, before he could kill her, Winter grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and kissed him. He thawed much quicker than shed expected. Almost instantly, like he’d been waiting for this moment, he grabbed her hips and pulled her against him with a possessiveness that overwhelmed her. His lips were desperate and starved as he leaned into the kiss, pressing her against the rail. She gasped, and he deepened the kiss, threading one hand into the hair at the nape of her neck. Her head swam, muddles with heat and a lifetime of desire. Jacin’s other hand abandoned her hip. She heard the ring of steel as the knife was pulled from its scabbard. Winter shuddered and kissed him harder, filling it with every fantasy she’d ever had. Jacin’s hand slipped out of her hair. His arm encircled her. He held her against him like he couldn’t get close enough. Like he meant to absorb her body into his. Releasing his shirt, Winter found his neck, his jaw. She felt the tips of his hair on her thumbs. He made a noise and she couldn’t tell if it was desire or pain or regret or a mix of everything. His arm tensed against her back. His weight shifted as he raised the knife.”

LoveWinterOtpJacinJacin And WinterThe Lunar ChroniclesroniclesWinter And Jacin
Book:Winter
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