▫️-Ruby Headache-▫️ #art #oc #digitalart #artsky

We live in a world where population-scale brainwashing is deployed both as a political weapon and a tool for corporations to capture and retain users, and they've somehow managed to make it utterly unsexy. This sucks.

When the weather gets hot, please take special care for the goths in your life. With their floor-length coats, platform shoes, and velvet capes, it’s hard for them to thermoregulate as we do.

waking up alone, familiar absence still glass-jagged on tongue

TEEEEETTHHHH

the optimal placement for heat sinks on a girl is on her flanks bc then she has to wear crop tops to vent heat properly

drop that onlyfans girl

plagued by visions of "SEXUALIZE RAGE NOW" on a pink hoodie

I don't kink on the intersection between cnc (consensual non-consent) and cev (coherent extrapolated volition), that would be Stupid and Embarrassing! no!

One of the silly little bits I do, sometimes, is that, sure! I'll be a obedient drone who reshapes itself into whatever shape whoever it's with tells it to, that's great! <3 but if I think you're *wrong* about what you want? teehee 🐝

"A prayer, offered in avarice," the cyst-mother murmurs in a voice that is not her own. Her sutured lips are stained by pollen and thin honey; her words emerge from the wasps dancing through her gall-laden hair. "What a delicious thing. I think I will keep you."

Panel one: a woman sitting at a table. One of her arms is strapped down; a marionette holding a scalpel is carefully cutting her open. A hand wearing a thick leather glove—almost a gauntlet—holds a hazy shape nearby. Waiting to insert it. She's smiling. The tears can't hide that.

A story about having a panic attack on the subway, except it's porn. maybeelse.site/words/subway/

From "Don'ts For Bachelors And Old Maids." Minna Thomas Antrim, 1908.

There's a difference between playthings who Stink Good (natural body aroma, strong pheromonal presence, fresh sweat) and playthings who Stink (soured sweat, swampy ass, rancid body oils). Both, you see, have their charms in IRL kink and in ero writing. A 🧵 continued below below.

enemy mech pilot: would you use a big boot to humiliate me regime pilot: that's a crime enemy mech pilot: or maybe just crush me when i'm completely defenseless regime pilot: that's a crime enemy mech pilot: or board my ship and then take a weapon and- regime pilot: that's STILL a crime

Without further ado, I present: Mahou Shoujo Chuck Yeager Breaks the Sound Barrier - A "The Right Stuff" AMV A video for me and like 5 other people. I was up til 2AM in the full grip of POSTER'S MADNESS making this and I am now free. archive.org/details/the-...

... one of these days I should really get around to finishing writing/editing the Transgressions Triptych.

Panel one: a girl lying on an operating table. Her ribcage is splayed open; a demon bends over her, wrist-deep in the cavity. It's holding something golden in its hands. Ink drips from its eyes. A bloody heart sits on a metal tray next to the girl's body. In the background a door is opening.

Panel one: a woman strolling through a farmers' market. An overstuffed tote bag dangles from her hand; the produce inside is unfamiliar. She is well dressed and perfectly composed, though it's not really the place to for high heels. No one is near her, but bandaged figures lurk behind the stalls.

Panel one: a knife intrudes upon bare flesh; the neck, the chest, the wrist. It crosses boundaries again and again, deeper each time. We do not see who holds it, and we do not truly see its victim; the frame is too narrow for that. The art of butchery is in separating meat from its context.

Panel one: a woman in a modest dress sits at a cafe table. A cup of coffee is cooling in front of her. She's flipping through a thick pile of paper; a fancy pen dangles from her fingers. Across from her sits a creature in a pinstripe suit with a huge raven's skull where its head should be.

Panel one: a needle sinking into a scrawny thigh. The syringe is full of sparkling oil; an unlabeled vial rests on its side nearby. The hand holding the syringe trembles as it pushes the plunger down. Beads of sweat drip down. It's painful, but it will be worth it. It has to be.

Panel one: a pet store. A woman in a sundress locks eyes with a snake in a glass enclosure. The snake is curled around a polished rock; its scales glitter like gems and its eyes are black pits. There's a label on the glass. A warning. The text is smeared and illegible.

Panel one: she pauses on the sidewalk, her eyes caught by a window display. Naked longing fills her face, a stark contrast to her body language—hands curled into fists, shoulders squared, legs twitching. Ready to fight or flee. Inside, warm light glistens on leather and brass; a collared mannequin.

I like the idea that it can stand on its hands and use its legs as weapons. Hence the chisel-feet are coloured the same as the sword (to imply similar materials/properties).

The morning light is turning blue, the feeling is bizarre

"So I was getting insecure about the length of the vellus hair on my forearms," this is an insane thing to think. I sound insane right now

AI fraud nearly derailed our next anthology. Today we’re talking about what went down, the things we missed, and publishing the report we wish we’d had when it happened. Read all about it on our new blog, and download the full report:

A story about having a panic attack on the subway, except it's porn. maybeelse.site/words/subway/

"Would you like me to wear one of them," the mask-maker asks, "just slip one on and make myself obvious? Be a caring domme or a feral beast or an eager sub," it gestures towards the masks hanging on its wall as it speaks, "with a set of matching needs and wants made obvious for your consumption?"

I'm happy that this thread seems to have been well-received, since I'm always a bit worried about how people will take my attempts to dig into the underlying mechanics of tropes (& how they can be linked to completely different genres) ^-^ Are y'all interested in more of this?

Hunting you down and pinning you to the ground, teeth close to your neck that could snap it in a heartbeat, voice low, so low you can feel it more than hear it, a predators rumble that ripples through your flesh, as I whisper: “use promo code ela to get fifty percent off your first order of hellofre

Lovecraft would have loved instant loss so much that he, in his affectation of anachronistic periphrasis, would have written them in a mere fifty or sixty thousand words apiece

Kafka and Lovecraft would have loved instant loss.

Instant loss is a fun trope. Aside from evoking very specific types of fantasies, there is quite a bit of art in the way it cuts down a story to its barest features: establishing a character, drawing the audience into the story, and showing how it ends.

Yeah okay, that was interesting.

oops forgot the image

yeah, well, could a woman with crushingly low self-esteem do this?!

She's being so big and brave. #art #comic #sphynx #mythicalcreature #kaijufluffsart

Goth Bimbo Heathcliff #126 Socialism has many appealing qualities. (mon/tue/thurs/fri)

Eat your darlings. Bloody strips of exposition, fatty footnotes and vestigial characters make for a fine enough feast when grilled by an expert editor. Chew, now swallow. That gristly point of view would stick in the tender gullet of your readers. Digest the words so they become part of you again.

(puppygirl that only watches children's cartoons) so it's basically about these alien plants that turn you into their pet (remembering the Cult or Just Weird episode on Empty Spaces) have you ever touched yourself to that cg of Arcueid cut in pieces

All the world will be your enemy, Snuffbait with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must— ...can you can you stop jacking off like that while I'm talking

The thing about a horror genre where much of the horror is, explicitly, about being broken by fascists into a simulacrum of enthusiastic participation in fascist violence, is that if you sanitise out the breaking and the horror and the simulacrum 'cause that's all icky, what you're left with is....

busy week have this from my exhausted brain

So there's a drug which puts humans into heat. And I have a little nasal spray bottle full of it sitting on my desk. Waiting. ... so that's not terrifying at all.

somewhat delayed loss

It's pretty hard to hit the right notes for a mad scientist who's trying to design a drug cocktail to pacify populations by preventing them from thinking about anything except sex, but is also very bad at it. Probably gonna have to rewrite all of the bits which touch on that a few more times -.-