iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 05/10/2026

oh yeah for you vore enjoyers i’m writing a <1500 piece a day for each keyword on this year’s voretober list, long as i can keep up a streak. So far Storage, Magic, Spa, and Exchange are done and available on FA, check em out! www.furaffinity.net/gallery/fluf... 🏷️ #vore #voretober #furry #writing

Snip from Exchange, a dialogue-only piece:

“It’s deep space travel, the logistics are still rigid. Don’t take more than your share, but if you do, at least have it on record. That way, we can figure out how to work around it. Otherwise…”

You become someone else’s share.

“Veeeeery good, you deserve a prize.”

Could regenerate me.

“Mmm, no. Not until we’re in range of a planetary clinic with resources to spare. There was a problem to solve, and now it’s solved. It’s not up to me.

And if it was?

“I guess we’ll never know.”

You’re grinning again. You really love this, don’t you?

“Don’t you?”

Melting was scary.

“But now?”

…It’s a nice shape.

“What’s a nice shape?”

This.

“This?”

You.

“Us.”

Snip from Magic:

The hyena holds in a yelp as she leaps back on the defensive, shuddering… and steaming. For the few seconds it lasts, she does not miss the black vapor wafting off herself. She doesn’t need to ask what was done to her, the fact they no longer stand shoulder-to-shoulder is difficult to miss, even if the difference is slight.

“You did agree to no limits,” Yhana says. In her off-hand, a little black sphere floats; all of Haatho’s shed mass, compressed and reserved. Better than letting it evaporate and go to waste, but no less perceived as a taunt.

Haatho lunges, blinking through space midway and switching up her strike to compensate for the lost distance. Yhana catches it with the back of her blade, sliding hiltward and twisting to tap Haatho with the flat. One more zap, and she shrinks again, her rage straining against the bounds of its decreasingly suitable container.

Blink. She emerges behind Yhana, coiling aura into herself and then projecting it like a field. The force of a single stomp carries her to float in the microgravity she maintains. Then, with another surge and a sudden rush of vibrating air, the sand beneath her scatters, suspended in the area like a smokescreen.

Snip from Spa:

“Alright, welcome back to the world of the living.”

“Did I die??” She asks, feeling panic well up inside her again.

“Easy,” the lemur says, raising their palms in a placating motion. “You did and you didn’t. Principle of the Twofold Self and all that, we learned this in school.”

“I uhm…” She looks away. “Arcanaphysics wasn’t my strong suit…”

“Heyyy but you remember that! Good! Do you happen to remember your name too?” They swivel on their stool to swipe at the terminal on the desk nearby.

“It’s…” She shifts, looking over herself. She’s missing some time, but she seems mostly unchanged, if naked. Lucky she’s got this black liquid to cover herself, but it runs right off her short fur without discoloring any of her re-follicled mauve markings, from shoulders to chest to–

“Leg.”

“...I don’t think that’s right.”

“I’m missing a leg!”

The lemur quickly turns back, plainly observing the same thing she cannot look away from, one place on her body to which the fluid does cling. Right below the knee, where the limb simply ends. Gingerly, they reach out, placing their hand on her knee and easing it back below the surface.

“As I said… a few minutes early. Leave that under there for a moment, it’ll come back.”

Excerpt from Exchange:

Steam fills the air next, no reprieve from the clove-scented humidity of Merion’s body. Rada’s hornlike auditory spikes twitch in their sockets as he tries to make out the sounds of nature, simulated or otherwise, from between the towers of enamel and surgical steel. “Nope. Put me back in, we’re– Ack!”

Merion spits Rada into her hand, closing clawed fingers around him. “How about you tell me what’s going on, Rada?”

The benthic looks away, the corners of his serrated mouth stiffening. “We have to be getting close, it won’t be long now–”

“Close to what?”

Rada is silent for several moments, daring to attempt a glare even in his predicament, but he loses his edge upon locking with Merion’s luminous stare. He huffs. “You promise not to laugh?...”

“Not if it’s funny,” Merion declines. “But I know you’re not gonna fly out of the Mesenteric Basin all by yourself if you can help it.”

083

GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 25/08/2026

1.9 rewrite preview. patch notes: Introduce aura tuning slightly earlier. Increased boldness with which Merion wears the mantles of Unreliable Narrator and Laid-Off Igor Type. (Archetype of Missing Grandmother A Whole Lot remains unchanged) cw violent combat

Challenge received. They step forward in time with me, their gloved fingers flexing into a fist, pulling back the device on their wrist as it powers up with a rising whine. Fighting every instinct, I pull my eyes off them and look through the gap in the central array, projecting through it. Space folds around me, and I blink through, behind the injured one. They have no radiance left, no sense for where I’ll appear when I rebound, and they are too focused on their advance to correct in the split second I afford them. Gripping tight, I wrench my whole body into a blind, downward strike, and, as if guided by my grandmother’s own loving hand, my blow lands right at the base of the neck. Polymer sundering, clavicle crushing, the steel teeth burrow down to bite the heart.

They drop fast, the weight of a four-meter body hitting the floor with enough momentum to throw me, though I manage to rip the macuahuitl from its place in the process. No time to recuperate, the other one still releases their thunderclap, not close enough to land their blow, but it still reverberates in this chamber enough to punish my eardrums for regenerating so soon. I feel my head will rupture if they keep it up for long. Gathering all my will to convince myself I have it in me to hack their arm off, I ready a short blink toward them, aura coiling, but it finds no outlet. In other words, I go nowhere.

This one is a gapwalker too, I realize. They’ve matched my frequency and have me tuned; as long as they do not cast, neither can I. But their sonic device must still be recharging, as they brandish that knife toward me instead. Leading with a sharpened edge the length of my own forearm, they charge. I charge too, wrangling my instinct to flee and turning it on them, because I am not just a fool with a makeshift weapon.

I am also a liar. I have been since this record began.

010

GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 08/08/2026

Happy 8/8! MelancholyW0lf and I adapted the first scene of Ka'lina and Anita's adventures from the ongoing RP that inspired them. Presenting, Lost & Found, a collab story. AO3 archiveofourown.org/works/90126161 FA www.furaffinity.net/view/65956499/ 🏷️ #vore #voreday #furry #lesbian #writing (1/2)

“So,” Ka’lina starts, idly squeezing the cold packet that slipped from her bra in her hands like a stress toy. She hesitates to ask, but pushes through her trembling nerves. It can’t be anything too bad, right? “Y-You were saying something about.. a-a back up plan?”

”O-oh, right, right…” Anita stammers. As much as she had rehearsed her delivery in her head, to say it at all so shortly after nearly flattening Ka’lina almost feels like too much. She has to look away. “S-s-so… Even though there’s no way to get you an exosuit of your own, there’s still a way to get you out of here. We ah…” she risks a glance up at Ka’lina again but even that incomplete second feels like trespass. She averts her eyes again. “...We have to share mine.”

The wolf’s brow furrows in deep confusion. “Share… yours?” She parrots, tilting her head to the side in that distinctly doggish manner. “I, uh… don’t think I can fit in yours by myself, honestly. N-No offens—”

“It gets worse. We don’t have the equipment to take it off right now, s-so…” Her heart is pounding in her chest, loud enough to fill her ears. She’s starting to get self-conscious about it, as if she might need to speak over it. “...I– I mean, you get it, right?”

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 30/06/2026

It's finally done. My longest standalone story at 13300+ words, Intrusive Thoughtform sees several familiar characters return to the page, including Merion adapting to a more villainous role. Links in reply! #furry #queer #vore #writing

“There they are,” Ayori says close to Benet’s ear, gesturing toward Albireo with her snout. “Looks like they’re headed for Asha.”

“So’s everyone,” Benet chuckles. “I’ll catch up with them after they’ve made introductions.”

True to Benet’s observations, everyone is swarming, keeping enough distance so as to appear nonchalant, that they might simply happen to enter the host’s orbit like a noncommittal asteroid. Her moon, however, deters all from lingering so close. An enormous canine specimen, or something resembling it, sits at attention, looming over her and most of her guests. Them on four legs, and Albireo on two, they stand shoulder to shoulder. Their eyes scan the crowd from their towering vantage, multiple yellow and black tails thumping the floor in the slow suggestion of nascent agitation.

To Asha, it’s hardly worth mentioning; rather, she has since learned that should she decide to, it is already too late. Her pet will personally see to the removal of anyone who should blunder into one question too many. Better she neither invites nor answers any. Her auburn hair bounces with a practiced sort of flair as she seamlessly moves from one guest to the next, a very minimal dress glittering with her graceful motions like rainbow oil on a black ocean, bubbles and all, complemented by those speckles of seafoam-white dotting her bared hips.

Ayori and Benet are simply dressed as the help, failing to land a second gig with her by their own talents as data mystics, no place for them here, but showing so little pelt under their uniforms, baggy by design, turns a similar proportion of heads, allowing them to move freely as long as they keep the palm wine flowing. Waiting for the right moment, they vanish back into the crowd.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 21/06/2026

Been a while! #WIPSnips Snip taken from an untitled one-off featuring a professional sacrifice trying to steal secrets from another negotiably-alive person inside of a living phylactery.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 23/04/2026

#AntagonistApril 22 I've been slacking on these but didn't wanna miss this one Something quick and dirty for lack of time. Though, I was torn on whether this would give away way too little or way too much.

A horned creature, bright red with pale, gray-blue bony adornment turns its long neck toward the viewer. A separated, spherical component floats between its upper two horns.
A transparent overlay written "I THINK YOU SHOULD RECONSIDER" covers the image

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 17/04/2026

cw drug use patch notes: filled in a timeskip at the beginning of 1.6. merion is Weird faster

“Opportunity could emerge any moment,” he scolds. “Therefore, keep your senses sharp.” The doll cranes over me, arms extended to plant his hands into the mattress in that way better reserved for lovers.

“We’ll see a ship coming, we’ve got a great view of the harbor,” I say. I reach for the inhaler of dragonbreath somewhere in the blankets but he snatches it up before I can take another drag of the sparkling vapor. “Fine, help yourself,” I invite with a dreamy giggle. “It’s not hitting like it used to, I think my regeneration is counteracting it.”

He sets it down on the long, narrow table across from the bed with no intention of partaking. “Please take this seriously, Merion,” he implores.

“Give me a little time to grieve,” I protest, my voice rising into a halfhearted yowl. “I don’t even know the totally— fuck. The totality of what I’ve lost yet.”

Then he’s back over me as before, placing all of what little weight he has onto the bed. “I do sympathize with you. But you embarrass yourself again.” He clicks fingers near my ear as if it’ll center me. Instead, the sound ripples through my brain across multiple senses; electricity on my skin, waves behind my closed eyes.

I crack one open to look at him. Any fear of him I should be feeling isn’t quite taking either. This was a bad idea no matter how irresistible, but I can feel myself having another one. A lopsided grin paints itself over my face instead of the sneer of derision I might have had with more wherewithal. “Suraaaokh,” I unconvincingly croon, “if you’re going to loom over me like that and not even offer to rub my belly then we’re going to have to have a talk about personal space.” My fingers curl into my new shirt to roll it up, exposing a little bit of a pleasantly rounded midriff. At this moment I probably wouldn’t even mind if he took it as an invitation but my bet is otherwise.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 07/04/2026

I started placing markings as anatomical guides; proper tilt to the hips, elbows on the correct axis, but I went a little wild on em so waste not want not, here's this version

A jackal morph towers over the viewer. She brandishes a sword and a lance of crackling energy. One of her eyes surging with the same energy. The other glows with malice as her tongue curls through a bared grin in anticipation. You probably don't have long.

She's wearing less in this one.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 07/04/2026

FABLED ANGER BLOOD AND CARBOHYDRATES IN THE AIR OH HONEY I'LL BE THERE

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 04/04/2026

#AntagonistApril 4 From the moment she appears in person, Saint Eren is the face (or lack thereof) of evil, driving the main threat against everyone we've met so far. However, her apparently apocalyptic plans aren't even her own, nor does she have a say in her involvement in them. (1/3)

A closeup of Saint Eren, viewed from behind her right shoulder. Art by milkqween.bsky.social

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 24/02/2026

At long last… If I disappear for like a while, this is why

ASTROPRISMA, a solo TTRPG, along with all its expansions

020

GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 21/02/2026

#Febchantment 21 I struggled to find a *really* good example so I had to dip into my spicier work. Suggestive at most, here's a more casual use of a blend of biotech and necroharmony. Rerouting souls probably never hurt anyone. (something something exploring each other's bodies)

As much as Shock willingly puts themself through, something about this device has always felt especially uncomfortable to them. Still, the results are worth it, so they do the same, feeling it contract into place. Then the filaments pierce, fluids exchange, and their nervous system expands.

“Alright, mine’s on,” they announce, rubbing their neck, though they’re careful not to mess with the band anymore.

“Great. Are you ready?” Albireo checks, turning toward them.

“Yeah, lemme just…” Shock stands, opposable toes gripping the bed for stability as they turn to face Albireo. They feel so small next to them, their slim form well beneath two meters tall engulfed in the shadow of this mountain of luxurious fat and fur. Shock can’t wait to try it out.

Albireo leans down, and the two touch their foreheads together, holding for a moment. And then they’re hit with a sensation like tipping too far back in a chair, or maybe slipping on an unexpectedly wet floor. At any rate, their bodies lurch, snapping them out of a moment of deep focus… and they’re not in their bodies anymore.

“You’re so light, Shock,” Albireo says through the lemur’s mouth, testing the range of their arms. It takes so much less effort to move like this. “How don’t you get blown away when the trains go by?”

“Maybe I do,” Shock chuckles as the hybrid. There’s a perpetual bassy growl inside their chest; they’re surprised at how much feeling it turns them on. The slightest twitch of arousal has them feeling lightheaded though; no wonder Albireo wanted to switch. “Anyway, you’re about to go to town on yourself, yeah? …Myself? My yourself.”

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 16/02/2026

Body dysmorphia is a really common theme in this story (anyway I wonder what *that's* all about ahaha)

I lose track of how long we’ve been flying, and I can’t even know where we are. The sounds of Rohka honing his returned axes– unloaded, mercifully –and Sal slowly flipping the pages of his book join the ambience of engines and entrails. In this windowless space, Neien is the only one with vision out, a vivicalligraphic interface sharing her nerves with a compact, bony headset, lending her the numerous mismatched eyes studding the warkite’s carapace. Her gaze and mine meet sometimes, interior eyes inside saline ampoules swiveling to check on her passengers. It must be almost intoxicating to pilot one of these, to feel one’s senses expand through specialized components, transforming into something with form and purpose converging on a single point.

Then again, that’s sort of what I’m doing already, and it leaves a lot to be desired. Some things are too far gone, others not gone far enough. I wonder why I still even have to bother with organs at this point.

I wonder what I’ll be when I don’t.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 14/02/2026

#Febchantment 14 As it so happens, I just wrote a decent example of this last week. Radiance is a gift from the serenities, when you get right down to it. It's better not to go to the source and ask for more.

“Did you know they would target Samsara?” Nym challenges, not budging. “Did you get rid of her because she asked too many questions? Not very smart to lose Merion in the same move.”

“Watch your slanderous tongue,” Jen warns.

Nym points, arm fully extended, up at the curtained thing. “Questions about that, right? Why are you keeping this a secret, if you believe it’ll save us?”

His brother stands, pulling a long breath, and letting it out as a sigh. “Why indeed?” Then he turns, gripping the tassels of the curtain and ripping it down.

Nym’s vision blurs in an instant and he staggers back, falling over as pain surges through the link. The warkite sways as Neien receives the same, and I do all I can to filter it out, but I can do nothing for Nym. His sinuses dry, the object’s harmful energy flooding the room. This isn’t simply a property of beholding it. This is an attack, consciously made.

Jen takes him by his mane behind his ears, seemingly unaffected. “Don’t look away. You wanted to see this, didn’t you? So see.”

He tips Nym’s head up, bleary eyes an explosion of color centered around a one-legged powder blue skeleton pressed into porous dark stone, or maybe coral, its pointed face angled to the side, one of presumably a pair of long, thin horns very slightly protruding. Hairlike red filaments line one edge of the horn, quivering in the air the way insect wings do.

“This is a live specimen, Nymraylu. A godlike mind, bonded to mine. Soon, everyone will be able to commune with them. Salvation, as a concept, does not belong to the Prelature alone, or even to known pantheons.”

Even without the splitting pain in his head, Nym is beginning to desiccate. Jen drops him after several seconds, taking his time in pacing away. He pulls his chair with a loud scrape across the floor, standing on it to replace the curtain. The moment it’s covered, the pressure recedes. Nym cries out, as if his voice had been suppressed, clutching his skull and writhing even as it subsides.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 07/02/2026

#Febchantment 7 In a system where folks routinely play around with time distortion, space folding, dominion over the soul, and so on, sometimes you just can't beat good old *fire*

A grating squeal distorts into a howl as external speakers click on, clearing rust and phlegm. “Merion, you traitor!” Rohka bellows through the microphone. “I’ll tear you to pieces!”

Yhana is already pushing the engine to its limit. She looks over her shoulder again, eyes wide with a mix of terror and that crazed thrill I’ve gotten a taste of. “Switch out with me!” she shouts to me, fingers searching for the sleeve of my stolen uniform.

“Switch out wi– I can’t reach!” I object, though even as I search madly for an alternative, there is none.

I duck beside her, letting her take hold around me as she slides backward in the saddle, planting me down before the handlebars. I can barely reach them and the pedal at the same time. I bring a leg up, claws curling into the cracked leather, to stretch the other down. I get a better view off the side than through the short windscreen this way, and I’m so focused on squinting into it that I almost don’t realize Yhana has moved onto the luggage rack and turned herself around.

She digs her knees in and reaches out her arms. There are the twin unsynchronized pops of combustion against her palms, and they ignite into blazing jets, pushing us beyond full throttle. 120 kilometers per hour. 130 per hour. 140. I can hardly see through the tears my eyes form in a futile effort to not dry out.

0110

GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 07/02/2026

Just siblings having a chat and also harrowing revelations. Nobody's Servant: By A Thread 2.12 - Exceptions is now available to read. AO3 archiveofourown.org/works/654718... FA www.furaffinity.net/view/63922131/ 🏷️ #furry #writing #writesky

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 28/01/2026

Reflections on habits. An excerpt from a couple of chapters down the line but I thought I’d share some of it early. CW vore, body dysmorphia, coping mechanisms for heartbreak, references to undeath 🏷️ #furry #vore #writing

My first experience exploring a partner as predator and prey was with a charming serval, back in Directorate territory. Solace Sungold, classmate, colleague, best friend, and perhaps a little more than that. I always thought their name sounded absolutely storybook, and the way it alone felt on my tongue made me yearn for its owner. It was a strange revelation, that even a name could be savored, and I wondered if they ever thought so about my own. I was always too shy to ask.

We weren’t fools of course, we didn’t charge right into it. A failed project, recent at the time, aimed to enable sustainable decontamination of seawater for remote communities. Instead, it had left us with an abundance of pectin, the gelatinous substance plants use for structural integrity. It had to be used, so some of the region’s surplus even became confections. Oval-shaped things, almost like a chicken’s egg and a little bit smaller, coming apart at the barest suggestion of chewing. Ultimately flavorless, meant to resemble the taste of various fruits and herbs, and only sometimes succeeding. We didn’t want them for the flavor anyway.

They were for practice. Solace quickly turned out to be a natural, and they found the ability, long even before they found the nerve to do it on purpose, to tease me by baring their jaws wide in my face, swallowing open-mawed and bringing it up completely intact just moments later. Again, flavorless, but much like names, expressions and body language can be delicious in their own way. Mine apparently were worth a salivating grin, their simultaneous purr and growling stomach saying more than words ever could.

My own abilities left far too much to be desired. I couldn’t get those candies down whole like Solace could, not without gagging or clenching up hard enough that they’d split. It didn’t take much. Solace thought it might be good enough, but I didn’t want simply “good enough” when they promised so much more. I wanted only the gentlest touch for Solace, all muscles working in concert to embrace them with a love that had yet to be trained into their fibers. I wanted to offer them the same paradise I coveted within that sleek, fuzzy belly that softly called to me.

Anyway I botched that relationship hard and looking back only makes me sad. I miss them dearly, though I cannot claim to have changed much for the better in the time since. They were too good for Paliputra, but I remain a perfect fit.

Long after they broke things off with me, the habit remained of course, and I never broke things off with it, despite the bad memories. It made me that much less of an appealing target at least, for organ harvesters, telepathic thieves, or more mundane creeps. Everywhere has them.

Despite how hooked certain people get, most don’t actively want to be eaten. After I was aberrated, I developed my own necroharmony, the means by which Solace had selectively shrunken us. Naturally, this opened some dangerous doors. After all, I’d practiced so long with standardized objects that I already had a suitable size clear in my mind at all times. How cruel, that I had only received this gift after my first death, and my ability to taste had long since dulled. Have you ever noticed how, to approximate the way something you’ve never touched might feel, all you must do is imagine licking it? Selections made in the spur of the moment came easy, and seeing a cohort being swallowed struggling and whole usually deterred any remaining threats. Even if I could rarely keep them down for long. Quite literally, I didn’t have the stomach for it, despite full submission to the instinct. Eventually I just gave up on it.

Well, no, I told myself I’d give up on it, every time. After all, this habit already managed to outlive me once.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 25/01/2026

There's something similar in appearance to thread that becomes an increasingly prevalent motif throughout the story. I feature it in my placeholder covers as well!

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 20/01/2026

Quote with two snippets of your writing/art & “Come for X, stay for Y” Nobody’s Servant: Come for the furry as hell reflections on deadly intimacy through an asexual lens, stay for the even deadlier conspiracy going deeper than those in the know even know. CWs for implied vore and mind control

It takes effort, now that she’s let herself come out of fight-or-flight for so long. Being on the smaller side like I am comes with plenty of disadvantages, strength, especially, but it often escapes me just how much of that extra strength it takes at minimum to move at all, as one grows larger. But she makes it onto her back just fine, arms folded up near her head, one leg slightly retracted. Despite how much surface area they cover, the black and cream markings that descend from breast and shoulder blade to low thigh are almost always hidden by clothing. They don’t touch in the middle; from the ring of two-tone fluff at the base of her neck, an uninterrupted golden-brown expanse continues down across her belly. It continues all the way down to a black patch my eyes will not wander beyond, quickly correcting course. In actuality, it’s all lit up the same overpowering green as everything else here. I only really know her colors from a very casual revealing shortly after we met. That feels so long ago now.

She’s left me as much room beside her as she can, so I kneel there to work the spot she was kicked in earlier. Centered on the glow, just like the other spots, I rub down that soft dividing stripe, and find myself wondering at how different her abdominal muscles feel from the outside. I almost give myself pause at what a strange thought that is, but evidently, it must be on her mind too.

“I really was going to kill you that day,” she says.

“You’ve told me before,” I dismiss.

“Again with the…” he rolls his eyes, fingers gnarling. “Again with the bones, Merion? Yes, obviously she knows about the bones, she’s a Warden after all. And not only does she understand why our investigation is so vital… she also understands how precarious her position is.” When he relaxes, I notice shallow scratches in the surface of the desk, newly marked. “You would do well to realize such things. Come closer.”

To my shock, I do as I’m bidden, without intention. I can feel his words worm into me, filling in the brief fugue during which I must have brought my chair forward to lean against the desk. Necroharmony, aura pressed against aura, his engulfing mine like a predatory amoeba. I am inside his willpower and it is peeling back the layers of mine.
I should be furious. I should be in full fight-or-flight right now, that he’d cast and put me under his thrall to maintain an upper hand he was in no danger of losing. But I can’t muster those emotions, though gods, I try. Save for his command, I am frozen. My ears are not meekly flattened down, they’re up, attentive, emotionlessly obedient.

“Clearly, Merion, I need to spell it out for you, that the simplest, easiest course of action to ensure the void siphon does not fall into the wrong hands would be to ask that you rip it still-beating from your own chest for me. And at this moment, you would. And then I would just have to clean up whatever resulting mess comes after; I know all about the way you get.”
I have no secrets. I have no advantage, no device, no escape. This is a hatchet to my ribs in essence, its sharpness just as undeniable as the wrath behind it. He continues, “But I do not particularly like that approach. Do you like it? Would you prefer that?”

I take a moment to determine whether or not I’m in control of myself again. When I shake my head, it’s of my own volition, but I’m all too aware of my powerlessness here.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 18/01/2026

Merion's melee weapon Merion's melee weapon in book 1 in book 2

A macuahuitl positioned on its side in a clear stand

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 18/01/2026

The edgiest guy arrives. 2.11 - Nahrrimurn is now available. AO3 archiveofourown.org/works/654718... FA www.furaffinity.net/view/63695928/ 🏷️ #furry #writing #writesky

I’m running out of distance though; the roof of the structure is almost entirely unfinished. I was expecting maybe a crevice to locate and squeeze into, but no, it’s a big gaping rectangle, boxing in an isolated railyard in a deep valley overlooked by a tower-mounted excavator. I stop a few steps from the edge, whatever passes for adrenaline in this clot of tar I call a body still surging through me.

I turn, finding Rohka has already shrugged off any damage and is rapidly approaching me with an ax brandished, blades and short barrel aimed at me. So, having the other ax, I do the same back to him. It’s a heavy thing, but the shells being fed up through the grip would make its weight inconsistent.

“Don’t make me do it, Rohka!” I shout as he advances. “I don’t want—”

I knew for certain I wouldn’t convince him, but I had to try. He raises the set’s other half and shoots three times. I almost don’t feel anything but the chill and then the burn of perforation until I look down, my stolen red uniform quickly staining black from dozens of holes left in my torso. Hey, this feels familiar.

“That was very rude…” I mutter faintly as I crumple over to the side again. If I roll at all, I will fall.

I can barely make out what’s being said as Rohka approaches, until he centers my focus by once again pulling my injured arm away from my body in a manner I’m beginning to find more annoying than threatening. He sounds very far away, even kneeling over me and taking his ax back. “By the authority of the Empress and all Wardens under her command—”

Yhana’s voice, indistinct to me, gets the attention of us both, and Rohka shifts focus away from me, beginning to stand but not quickly enough to do anything about the full-body, leaping tackle that takes both of them sailing over me and into the pit.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 13/01/2026

2.11 is coming along well I think CW for blood drawing, mild but prevalent 🏷️ #furry #writing #writesky

He squints, one cadmium yellow eye through his broken lens narrowing suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not in control?”

His stubbornness makes Yhana groan, and I lean in closer, rolling up my sleeve. “Bite me.”

“Oh, fuck you too!” Rohka shouts.

“No, I— ugh,” I also groan. “*Literally* bite me!”

Yhana allows him to raise an arm to his mask, pulling it up. This is the first time I’ve ever seen his face. He has the same sleek black coat all the way over as Sal does, but he’s a little bit pudgier in the face and his fur forms tufts at the jaw a little like my own. He opens his mouth, readying short, sharp teeth, but he hesitates.

“You’re not messing with me, right; this isn’t some kink thing?” he checks.

“I can just spit in your mouth instead if you want it to be,” I propose. I’m trying to provoke him but my patience is genuinely thinning anyway.

He gives the best response he can, admittedly, sinking his fangs into me. I wince as he draws blood, but that’s what I wanted. “Good. Swallow.” His ears flatten, and I nudge my arm against his tongue. “You want proof, this is it.”

He obliges, and then lets go, face scrunching as if he takes issue with my flavor. I can’t blame him. Preservatives with a hint of batteries.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 11/01/2026

After a looooong hiatus, Nobody's Servant: By A Thread 2.10 - Off The Rails. Back with a vengeance. AO3 archiveofourown.org/works/654718... FA www.furaffinity.net/view/63624164/ 🏷️ #furry #writing #writesky

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 31/12/2025

It's been magical, #Smutcember. For most of the time I've spent writing, I've been worried I was treading such bizarre territory that it would be difficult to connect despite a shared passion. But I've learned I'm in *fantastic* company with y'all. Stay freaky.🖤 Have an older piece I still like.

A slightly-outdated but still-beloved design of Merion, drawn in my lineless style from a compromisingly low angle. Their arms are crossed and their expression is gentle. Three of their tails are visible, tracing an upward arc off to the side.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 27/12/2025

#Smutcember 27 CW vore In which Shock drags *you* into the spotlight, or at least a version of you who's like four meters tall and lives in a sci-fantasy megacity. I felt there was a shortage of pred POV and soft-dominant prey stories out there, so here's part of an attempt at contributing to both.

“Right now??” you sputter. Conceivably, you could warm up to this idea given time and practice but this is sudden.

“I know you got nothing else going on,” they coax with far more accuracy than tact. “What were your plans, if I just went home? Plug in, pop a tranq, settle for sharing a fantasy with some rando about eating them?” They cozy up against you again, giving you a sultry look. “I was some rando, once. Try the real thing.”

Your heart is pounding, and they can feel it, lovingly circling it with a palm. “You’ll be alright?” you ask.

“Have you forgotten where we live?” they chuckle. “Everyone ever is always alright. Maybe do some cardio if you feel like I’m taking too long to regenerate.”

“Does that actually work?”

“Probably not, but it’ll take your mind off it.”

“Right…” You roll your eyes. “Should you undress for this?”

Shock tugs at their phycogel spray-on, thin and dark-green with a seaweed sheen. Completely biodegradable, available on tap, and technically even as edible as they are. “Do you prefer me undressed?”

They’ll tease you all night if you don’t just get on with it. “Shut up and get in me,” you command, to their visible delight.

You hardly even need to advance; sometime after the moment you splay your jaws, and before you can assess if you can stave off your common sense long enough to see this through, Shock takes the reins. The lemur’s hands slip right into your maw, handling your tongue with gentle, kneading motions as they make their way toward the back.

They taste the same way they do in your shared lucids. Did they flavor themself just for the occasion, you wonder, or is this actually their default? Either way, it’s making you salivate quite a bit more than you anticipated; it’d almost be embarrassing, for risk of drooling, if Shock didn’t purposefully slather themself in it. It seems like they delight in it. Momentarily you worry about your breath, one of those details easy enough to handwave or substitute in dreams, but it claims new prominence as you feel its heat break over them. They’re unbothered, visibly, their expression almost meditative as they prepare to lean inside you.

You begin to say something, maybe asking them to go more slowly, as if having the back of your tongue gripped and massaged could be spoken through. But, even the inarticulate vocalization you do manage to make gets Shock’s attention, and they back off, wiping saliva off your chin before it can drip.

“Come on,” they huff into your maw. “It’s just my hands.”

You nod, and they get right back to it, as smoothly as before. You can feel their fingers, pressed gently together to cup the back of your tongue. You could gag on them, probably, if you just leave them there, or you could—

glrrk

It happens before you can even stop yourself, you swallow hard, pulling Shock in so far that their head slides up to take the spot their hands had just been perched. Your mouth is forced as wide open as your esophagus, squeezing around slender arms reaching deep into you. You feel like you might push them back out, but Shock feels it too, reading subtleties in your contractions.

“Keep going, keep going!” they urge down your throat. “You’re doing so good, you just have to take my shoulders and the rest is easy.”

It seems like it should take more effort to get them behind your jaws, but even Shock’s manageable weight proves more than enough to use to your advantage. You’re dreading a quiet pop for just a second, but it never comes. They just slip right through.

You draw a hurried breath before the lemur’s head can fill your throat, but there’s nothing to fear. The worst that can happen is having to eject them and start over. You don’t, of course; Shock’s experience more than compensates for anything you’re missing. Their chest and belly slide in until their hips fill your jaws, igniting a blush at what a vulnerable position this is for both of you. It’s just for leverage, you could tell yourself, as you curl your tongue up where they’re most sensitive to reel them inside, but the pleasurable shiver that runs up their spine travels all the way down into the core of your body and rebounds up your own. Your hearts beat inches away from each other, mutually confirming your excitement.

Lucid dream sims are often praised for their realism, as per the specifications of curators, but you’re quickly learning they always underestimate weight, and the way it settles. Your core muscles have already flexed on instinct alone as Shock only just begins to nestle inside your stomach, letting their weight settle on their shoulders to save your neck most of the trouble. Even so, it’s a lot of work to manage those legs sticking out even at their most compliant, but the best solution is also the simplest. You swallow. You keep swallowing, until you can comfortably tip your head all the way back and get a little bit of assistance from gravity. There’s a heat inside you now as Shock tests the elasticity of your muscles, but appetite and curiosity both burn hotter. Their legs vanish into you, opposable toes hardly given a moment to grip exploratively at your face before crossing the threshold of your throat. Your lips can almost close around the last last bit of Shock’s tail to draw it in like a long, fuzzy noodle. The alternating rings of black and white slip by in rapid countdown; seven, six, five four threetwogone.

A euphoric sigh leaves you of its own accord, your breath like steam. The heat in your midsection spikes to border on searing as your abdominal wall stretches dramatically. The moment you feel your stomach close, you can no longer fight the urge to lurch over, arms around yourself as sticky saliva scatters in flecks from your maw as you pant. You’re not quite sure what this sensation is. It aggressively courts pain, all the more as Shock thrashes and resituates, but the longer they carry on, the more it starts to resemble pleasure. The dull ache of prolonged overstimulation, hitting all at once, interwoven with heavy pulses of feverish satisfaction radiating from your occupied stomach out to each fidgeting extremity. Synapses flicker in a language they’ve only ever dabbled in. This feels like fluency.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 21/12/2025

#Smutcember 20 #vore Sliding in late with mine (and plans to fill my evening catching up!) I guess I have a shortage of "almost" moments so we're just fully talkin about vore tonight. Yhana's excuse is a compulsion to consume exotic magic, but Merion is entirely a freak for the love of the game.

Nym backtracks through a placating chuckle, feeling the surge in my exasperation. “But on the other hand, it took a little while to get you used to your transformation, right? Either Rohka is half-baked or they changed him the moment you went missing.”

Half-baked or not, he was deadly on his own, for the short while I knew him. “Right, I’m… still not sure how to wake myself on my own at a moment’s notice but I’ll try and think wakeful thoughts or whatever.”

“We could try Yhana,” Nym suggests.

“No good, she’s not connected right now.”

“Oh. …Really?” he asks, switching to silent.

All the same, Kyra catches his puzzled expression in his reflection. “Is she alright?”

I can feel myself shift 45 degrees as Nym’s head lilts in confusion. Inner ear activity is probably a good indicator for my own progress toward waking up, but it’s ultimately a side thing. “Is that odd?”

“No, I mean I just suppose I assumed that—“

“You thought we were just burning through tarkossha extract over here, yeah?” I reason. I work a teasing edge into it, but it’s forced.

“I absolutely did, yes,” he admits. When I told him about my first time, it must have painted a very specific picture of me. He’s got no clue how close I was to swallowing him whole myself. Based on what we’re using my body for now, it probably would have been great data for him if I hadn’t snapped out of it. I know I shouldn’t have, though. Better I didn’t, even. Add that one to the regret pile anyway, I guess.

“Is that your experience with her?” I prod. It’s only fair.

“Once in a while…” he trails. “You know as well as I do, there’s something enchanting about it. For those inclined, it's the closest you can be held by someone.”

I should have done it. I should have done it. I should have done it.

“…Is everything alright, Merion?” he asks, sensing an increasingly obvious longing tinged with an admittedly concerning impulsive hunger.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 13/12/2025

#Smutcember 13 An emotionally tense massage in which Merion and Yhana talk about fear and death and mind-melding and stuff. Also vore, none depicted but *heavily* referenced. Making scenes like this short clearly isn't my strong suit, ehehe. This one also features size difference like last week's.

“Just straddle me,” she invites. “My back is good enough for it now.”

Somewhat hesitantly, I do as I’m directed, swiveling on my raised knee to hike the other leg over her. This feels a little bit vulnerable for us both, awkwardly situating myself on top of her, but I feel a bit less apprehensive as I clock that, of the two of us, I’m the furthest from my element. She’s so much larger in a way I failed to really process from standing beside her. My knees barely reach the thin mattress.

I’m not going to be able to stop overthinking it, but at least I can multitask. Reusing my earlier technique, I set to work on her shoulders. They’re tight too, in the way anyone’s shoulders would be after lugging around as much weight as she’s had to all day, but they’ve been tight for longer than that. That kind of tension comes from stress, a lifetime of it. I recognize it, because my shoulders are the same.

The gold glow of her healing light travels in sluggish, repeating paths beneath where my palms work, like an elastic substance pulling itself together over and over again. It’d be mesmerizing, if I weren’t so focused on pacing myself. I’m not as weak as I thought I’d be, at this point of my dissolution, but my stamina is shot. Cables and sinew, metabolised into thick strands of pitch. Pistons and vents, flooding with psychoactive tar. My heart, choking on ink. Still, I push myself. Yhana’s the one who’s been exerting herself all day; I can hold it together long enough for this.

“You’re terrified of me,” she says softly, matter-of-factly.

“What?” I ask, taken aback by the remark.

“You’re terrified of me,” she repeats. “I don’t have to guess. I’ve felt it myself, when our minds touch.”

“I trust you,” I insist.

“You do,” she agrees. She turns her head on her folded arms, one eye on mine. “But you’re glad I’m on your side. Get up for a moment? I want to flip over.”

“Right, sorry.” I tip to one side, swinging my leg back the other way to let her roll out from under me.

It takes effort, now that she’s let herself come out of fight-or-flight for so long. Being on the smaller side comes with plenty of disadvantages— strength, especially —but it often escapes me just how much of that extra strength it takes at minimum to move at all, as one grows larger. But she makes it onto her back just fine, arms folded up near her head, one leg slightly retracted. Despite how much surface area they cover, the black and cream markings that descend from breast and shoulder blade to low thigh are almost always hidden by clothing. They don’t touch in the middle; from the ring of two-tone fluff at the base of her neck, an uninterrupted golden-brown expanse continues down across her belly. It continues all the way down to a black patch my eyes will not wander beyond, quickly course correcting. In actuality, it’s all lit up the same overpowering green as everything else here. I only really know her colors from a very casual revealing shortly after we met. That feels so long ago now.

She’s left me as much room beside her as she can, so I kneel there to work the spot she was kicked in earlier. Centered on the glow, just like the other spots, I rub down that soft dividing stripe, and find myself wondering at how different her abdominal muscles feel from the outside. I almost give myself pause at what a strange thought that is, but evidently, it must be on her mind too.

“I really was going to kill you that day,” she says.

“You’ve told me before,” I dismiss.

“You would have melted over hours and hours, and I’d have forgotten everything about you even as traces of you remained in my bloodstream,” she persists. “Minus the metal parts.”

I give her a look. She’s already giving me one back. I sigh. “You should eat something, you’ve missed a whole day of meals already. They have to have a kitchen or something down here, we can buy a couple plates from someone. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” she asks, ignoring my question. She already knows the answer, I think she just wants to hear it from my mouth.

“Lots of people kill lots of people, Yhana. Someone even succeeded in killing me once.” I pound the center of my chest, right in the middle of the black ring-shaped marking. There’s no trace of the ax wound anymore, but that ring wasn’t there before this new heart had to replace the one they split open. “So no, you’re nowhere near my worst experience.”

“It bothers you. I’ve felt how much it bothers you.”

I stop massaging, leaning back to stretch my own spine, taking in a deep breath as I search for words, but a rasping sigh comes first.
“What is this, some sort of mind game?” I ask, hands failing to convey any sort of coherent gesture. “Why do you care what I think?”

“I’m going to get sick someday,” she says, rising onto her knees. “It’s going to be soon. But you’re sick now. So, all this? It kinda feels like I get to tell death itself it can’t stop me. And maybe I never got this chance. After all, you could have left.” She sits up, stretching her arms overhead and getting a much more satisfying pop than I’d managed. “And you haven’t. And I don’t mean now, I realize you’re sort of dependent on me. But before now, after we got off the train from Jeden, or fuck, back in Jeden, the second you stepped onto solid ground again, we could have gone our separate ways and that would have been that. It’s not like we were crew or comrades or anything like that. You weren’t stuck with me.”

I lean back to regain some of my lost personal space, and nearly fall off the bed when she lunges to catch me. I freeze in her grip, keeping my eyes cautiously fixed on hers. For what little it’s worth, anyway. I really cannot overstate how much our bodies are touching right now. The way hers surrounds mine is almost maw-like in its warmth. Without even swallowing, she devours me again.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 11/12/2025

“You may fascinate a man by showing him a pineapple.”

A tweet displaying a page from a book of spells, charms, and incantations, with special emphasis on “You may fascinate a woman by giving her a piece of cheese.”

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 06/12/2025

Gonna be wandering the convention center at a lil more of a relaxed pace today. Need more pins

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 06/12/2025

#Smutcember 6 From Nobody’s Servant 1.26 - Black Eye. Not just making up for lost time, but time they fear they may never get. additional keywords include furry, biting, size difference, undeath, and breath pheromones (or something similar) the MC is only just discovering.

“Nym…” His name comes out softer than I meant, too quietly, but to my relief it still brings his eyes back up to meet mine.

“Merion, if you disappear too, before I can help you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

I really take him in, in that moment. All his sincerity, his determination, his weakness, contained in self-taxidermy. I feel a little bit silly, that all I can think to say is, “Nym, you already don’t really live with yourself.”

It actually gets a laugh out of him, voiceless and breathy. He fidgets a little again. “I guess you know well enough how it is.”

Clicking, hissing, purring, whirring, it begins to fill the space once again, but I can hardly register it over just how much my heart is pounding.

I’m not even sure if I want to blame this on the chemicals dripping into me.
I grab Nym.

He yelps at first, in that squeaky way foxes do, but he only squirms to avoid knocking into the tubes, not in resistance. He’s on my lap, my arms all the way around his shoulders. He’s so small. I’ve thought that before, but it never really registered as much as while actually holding him.

Standing together he barely even reaches chest high, but holding him, having him, even, only emphasizes that disparity. He’s a sturdy little thing though; solid and heavy against me. Moving him took all the strength I’ve got right now. I’m still not sure what I plan to do with him.

He gulps, nervously, his trembling body mirroring the shiver in mine. I gulp too; the dry sterility of murk poisoning staved off by his treatment, saliva fills my mouth like it’s making up for lost time.

Nym stops fidgeting, finding the courage to touch me instead. His palms flatten and fingers spread, framing the center of my chest. I know he feels the device inside thrumming, because the constant turbine hum in the core of his body accelerates in reply.

Instinct ignites in us both at once. I squeeze. His grip shifts to my shoulders. Our muzzles meet, exhilarated breaths devolving into panting. Preservatives mix in the air, harsh and botanical, flavoring each kiss.

The snaps on the front of my gown pop, just a few starting below the neck, but I invite his wandering hands inside. Clawtips till lines in my fur, around the sides of my body and back up under my arms. He pulls himself up onto me, and I lean forward to surround him by virtue of my size alone. Tails curl, protectively, even possessively, boxing him in as my tongue goes exploring.

My breath glitters on his, almost like lightning through the eyelash screen my half-lidded peek affords. I don’t give it more than a passing thought, letting myself slip back into the blissful confines of touch and scent and taste.

His flat tongue traces the free side of my neck, stirring up a euphoric, toe-curling shudder that meets him near the top of my spine. I don’t want it to end but my appreciation will not be contained even a second longer. On the back of his head, my fingers find purchase, coaxing it aside so I can return the favor. His flavor is chemical in a way that doesn’t really taste, so much as it floods my sinuses with his unique aroma, and even as every strand of fur paints it onto my tongue, I cannot get enough. His muscles tense against my teeth, back and chest going tight as the shudder overcomes him too, terminating in my grip.

With a stifled gasp, he pushes his snout against my cheek with an imploring kiss. I oblige, and our lips find each other’s, picking up where we left off. Beads of condensation stud his face, artifacts of my breath. He seems almost hungry for it, deliberately drawing it in.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 05/12/2025

Convention time, say hi if we bump into each other!

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 24/11/2025

Merion and Nym (the latter of whom I need to get it together and finish drawing) both have undifferentiated fur styled into manes. Yhana’s is differentiated and silkier than the rest of her coat, more closely resembling humanlike styles. Ignore the eyepatch for now, that’ll *eventually* be accurate.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 20/11/2025

#SFFChat Q4 Merion has a chat with Samsara, another trans character, who opens up a little even as she’s been assigned to survey them.

Samsara proves more inclined to make conversation than I had her figured for, speaking up again as we begin to roll. “I would like to apologize for how Jen intimidated you today. His people skills are not usually evident in one-on-one situations.”

“Yeah. I get that he means well but…” I sigh, as words fail me yet again. “I’m sorry he dragged you into his example like that, too. I know I wouldn’t have appreciated it.”

She nods slowly, though her answer doesn’t match. “It’s no secret why I was persecuted, or why I defected to join the Dominion, way back when. Here, I don’t have to be a secret.”

I ease up at that, even managing a smile. “Can’t begrudge him for wanting to protect a place like this, then. It’s hard to reconcile being unable to leave if I wanted to, but… well, there are worse places to be stuck.”

“Yes, there are. You very narrowly avoided one.”

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 20/11/2025

#SFFChat Q1 Merion, the MC of Nobody’s Servant, is nonbinary, and one of a few trans characters in the cast. Their relationship with gender, though touched on plainly here and there, is mostly explored through a different kind of metamorphosis and the way they redefine it to suit themself.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 19/11/2025

#Novmemeber 19 No working title beyond Nobody’s Servant 2.0 or just NS2 but I suppose this would have worked just as well

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 18/11/2025

#Novmemeber 18 Teovald. Frustrated by his redundancy, prone to lash out about it, but there’s one thing he’s very very good at.

“Now this might strike some viewers as harsh, but I believe everyone involved in this story should die.”

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 15/11/2025

#Novmemeber 14 (reposting with the correct tag!) At first I thought nominating Saint Eren for this one was doing her a little dirty as she objectively does the least direct harm out of the whole rogue's gallery of book 2, but then again she's done *plenty* with her bare hands by the end of book 1

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 14/11/2025

Taken from 1.24 - Crack The Ribs. As an undead individual, Merion is difficult to take down, but not impossible. They won’t simply be walking this off.

We wrestle against one another like this for a few seconds, but my upper body isn’t nearly as strong. Their arm shoots forward and the blade cuts deep into my neck, ripping veins and trachea in a single deadly motion.

So I stagger back, clutching my ruined throat. The choking comes first, then the onset of pain, nauseating in its intensity. The rational part of my brain says it’ll regenerate, but the rest of it embodies the wounded animal that I am, with or without that assurance. It’s enough of a gap in my offense to give them time to lunge, grabbing me instead. Their knife chimes tunelessly on the stones, and then there’s one hand on an arm, the other on my head. They turn me in their grasp, and my head smashes into the corner of a dumpster. Sound explodes inside my ruined skull, the metallic clang against the corner, and the primal scream of exertion from the soldier as they destroy my eye and the socket that held it from brow to cheekbone. They let go as they do, I don’t think they expected me to stay standing. I didn’t either.

Fragments of my face scatter among spasming, dying musculature, every twitch sharp and wet at the same time. Half my vision disappears, and the remaining eye fills with a dark and fuzzy perimeter, flickering with agony. It switches between optics and infrared, out of my control. Masses of color, sorted by heat, blinking arrhythmically in and out while lines of burnt orange base-12 scroll up the periphery; error codes I’ve never had a need to memorize. Blood surges over the back of my tongue, ejecting with a percussive gag. Half-limp, I throw myself into a slashing turn, claws digging in and catching only their hazmat. They draw another, longer blade, and stab again, into my shoulder.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 14/11/2025

#SFFChat Q4 Taking the dead of night to get all *pensive* and stuff since fleeing from law enforcement earlier that day didn’t leave a lot of time for it

Other than that, I encounter nothing else, strangely, though I can distantly hear trains on other tracks, bound for places far to the south. Occasionally, we pass remote homesteads, modest structures or even more repurposed train cars like the inn. One built close to the tracks almost blinds me as its motion activated light illuminates our handcar. For a few seconds, I go still, transfixed, momentum keeping us drifting onward until our presence could not possibly warrant little more than a dismissive shrug from whomever might have been home.

I wonder how one gets by out here. The community I lived in was fairly isolated as well, but we at least had community. But it’s not there anymore. I think of my family. I never did make contact with them since becoming tangled up in all this. The administrators likely paid close attention to any messages I had tried to send through the chatterworks in the capital. Everything on a need-to-know basis, carefully curated, labyrinthine bureaucratic machinery operating behind a simple concrete facade. Thinking about it this much, I understand why one would take their chances out here after all, keeping a paranoid eye on the rails.

But never as paranoid as I am right now, I’m sure. I keep casting a glance backward trying to catch sight of that other presence coming our way, but after getting a faceful of floodlight I’m night-blind. I didn’t pick up on anyone else in infrared anyway, so they can’t be close. Or they’re hiding.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 11/11/2025

Convincing you to read my novel by the first sentence. Share yours if you want. Cheating a little because By A Thread is a sequel. Mine’s simple but I like to think it’s effective.

Chapter 1: Anywhere But Here

“I told you we shouldn’t have killed him.”

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 11/11/2025

#Novmemeber 11 So despite already being something like a jackal (plus a few hybrid attributes) walking around on two legs, they *do* have a fursona. They're called Myriad and it's them but all huge and *eldritch* and stuff, primarily used in collaborative lucid dreaming

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 09/11/2025

#Novmemeber 9 Ya know, it turned out cuter than I thought it was gonna

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 09/11/2025

#Kinktober #IndieKinktober My final, late submission to the challenge. Tried for a short story, ended up with a 10000+ word novelette. FA www.furaffinity.net/view/62927515/ AO3 archiveofourown.org/works/716891... 🏷️ #furry #lesbian #vore #unbirth #endo #endosoma #samesize #lactationkink #aftercare

Ka’lina barely processes it anyway, helpfully quelling her constant wriggling as Anita lies back on the long bench in the locker room, allowing her precious cargo to recede into her ever so slightly more. The corgi grips the twin zippers of her heavy-duty base layer, back bridging as she pulls hard. The clawed cleats attached to the soles offer little grip here, but eventually, with great effort, she succeeds at closing the frontal piece over her abdomen, zippers coasting all the way over her chest and neck to complete the seal. That soft outline resting on her hips, at first unmistakably a person, becomes just a little bit more mistakable under the thick, insulated polymer layer. Anita feels an indecent little rush as she explores Ka’lina’s imprint with her gloved hands, thankful nobody else is around to hear the lewd whine she emits as Ka’lina nestles down into the lower curve of her womb.

The armor disguises her presence all the more. It’ll all fit of course; rather than the ceramic and enamel comprising the bulk of the exosuit, sections of the body subject to lots of motion rely on a second elastic layer packed with shear-sensitive fluid channels. Ka’lina and Anita both share a breath out on instinct as the suit spools tight. Not that Ka’lina needs it, necessarily, getting all her sustenance from full-body contact with the velvety endometrium encasing her, but Anita prioritizes comfort above all else. She holds her own breath until she’s certain Ka’lina still has room to work her lungs.

If Ka’lina had felt packed in before, it was nothing compared to the pressure on her now. She barely has room to squirm, no matter how powerful the urge. But it’s all bliss, not fear. She could get used to this, feeling like a part of Anita, autonomous for no other reason but to revel in it. She still does not dream. Instead, that euphoric fog awaits; warm, dark, wet, and snug in a way it hadn’t been before, in which time cannot trouble her.

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 06/11/2025

CW vore I’m only just getting to the part where I wrap this up and I think what I intended to be a short story has evolved into a novelette by now. Maybe once I finish this thing I pull my nose off this grindstone for just a little while

“Sooo, how’d she earn such a long time-out?” Shock teases.
Day 13. The lemur’s hands are already on Anita’s belly before she can really invite or decline them, but Shock has never held much respect for personal space.

“O-oh, we’re going day-by-day actually,” Anita says. “Sofia gave us a d20 after a game with her coworkers–”

“Ohhhhhhh, founders flayed, Anita, even I don’t go to those anymore,” Shock says with a pitying laugh. “Too rowdy for me. Sofia’s been trying to get ahold of you though. Said it was real important.”

Anita’s ears flick. She hasn’t seen any messages. “Really?”

“Or Ka’lina, one of you,” Shock clarifies somewhat noncommittally. “Our haunts have a lot of overlap, so we get to talking. She’ll be on assignment for a little while though.”

“Huh…” Anita makes a mental note to ask about that later, the hand resting on top of her massive midriff beginning to draw absentminded little circles.

“Yeah, anyway…” the lemur stands as the lights above the waiting room doors chime, arms stretching nonchalantly overhead. “I’m about to throw a match with some lady they call ‘The Spine-Splinterer’ so lemme know how things are going after they regenerate me. You did bet against me, right?”

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GenderUnknown's Battlenouns @aldehydebackhand.bsky.social · 05/11/2025

the last thing some poor dominion conscript sees before being promoted to skin graft

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