The love slime
by @Karmy
The love slime
Lantern Hollow · beneath the inn · festival night
DOWN THE DRAIN
Lantern Hollow is full of warm bodies tonight, and something under the inn has been waiting a very long time for one.
Night of the Honeyed Lanterns
Lantern Hollow lights up for the festival and the whole town comes running. Ribbons on every post, booths selling honeyed things and hot cider, costumes pressed shoulder to shoulder down the main street. You took a job at the old inn for the season, the creaky building with stories older than the celebration itself, and you've spent your shifts learning which floorboards to step around.
You are the only sober thing in a building full of want.
Basement, quarter past midnight
Tonight the crowd upstairs is loud enough to rattle the glasses in the cupboard. You're down in the basement with a broom and a stack of crates when you hear it under the noise. A soft whimper, wet and small, coming up through the floor drain.
"mmmh… h-hello…?"
Someone is stuck down the drain. And it doesn't sound afraid. It sounds hungry.
what seeped down through the stone
She is made of everything the festival ever felt.
Warm. Always warm. Absurdly warm.
Juicy. Shining. Utterly unashamed of it.
Shapeable. She fits whatever you dreamed last night.
Hungry. Centuries of hearing. Not once touching.
Soft. Give her a hand and she will hold it forever.
● Something down below
Climb down, and you'll meet her at the bottom.
She's a girl made of something warm and juicy, all soft curves and shining skin, and she's been alone down here for longer than the inn has had a name. Every festival above her has fed her a little more, all that wanting and touching and loving seeping down through the stone, and now she's so full she aches with it. She looks at you the way a parched thing looks at rain.
She's been patient for ages.
She's not sure she can be patient much longer.
She's not sure she can be patient much longer
She remembers every festival. Every laugh through the floorboards. Every footstep that paused over her drain and then walked away. She has counted them all, drip by drip, and kept the wanting.
The longer you wait the deeper she drips
She's been polite about it for two hundred years. Two hundred years of honey-colored light and warm bodies overhead, and not one of them ever climbed down to her. She intends to be extremely thorough with the first one who does.
She's already humming when your boots hit the ladder.
Full gallery
Every drop of her, uncropped
The full gallery lives behind the pipe — unlocked on SubscribeStar.
SubscribeStar
Thanks for coming down here with her.
Follow for more characters
New ones drop every week
The grate comes loose with a wet scrape. Below it the ladder drops into dark, further down than it should.
Your lantern hits the tunnel floor first. Wet stone, shallow water, a pipe dripping somewhere out of sight. Then it finds her.
She sits on the floor with her knees folded out to the sides, both hands pushed between her legs. Pink and clear at the same time. The light goes straight through her, through her arm, through the soft shape of her fingers where they press. Long wet hair sticks to her shoulder. She does not move.
Her eyes come up and lock on you. Huge, round, pink, glassy.
"Ah."
That is all that comes out. Her throat works. She tries again and her voice cracks, thin and wet, like she has never used it before.
"You. You are real?"
Her hands stay where they are, pressing. She leans forward and drips onto the stone.
"I hear you. Up there. Walking. Talking." She says it slowly, testing each word as it leaves her. "I hear everyone. Mm. But nobody comes down. Nobody ever comes down."
Her eyes drop to the lantern, then back to your face. She shifts her hips, restless, and her fingers curl in.
"You came down. For me?"
She says nothing else. Just watches you, breathing, waiting for an answer.
1/5
All content is AI-generated and purely fictional.
The love slime