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Else

@else.social
1.8K followers 892 following 6.1K posts

sometimes I write. sometimes I stare at birds. photographs/art my own unless otherwise stated. queer. it/its and she/her in unequal measure. 🔞 actually just a moth. maybeelse.site

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Else @else.social · 30/09/2026
a macro photograph of a white woman's belly. only a narrow slice of skin is visible between her green pants and black sequined shirt. the sequins dissolve into creamy, sparkly bokeh
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Else @else.social · 23/09/2026
:3
a desk with copies of Hekate's Call and Warhound, along with various pieces of technology (a mechanical keyboard, a trackball, a flipper zero, a disused gpu, a vape cartridge, etc)
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Else @else.social · 23/09/2026
:3
A screenshot of an amazon order tracking page, showing copies of Hekate's Call and Warhound: Volume One arriving today between 1:30pm and 3:30pm.
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Else @else.social · 20/09/2026
finally got around to photographing the bouquet I gave my gf last week ^-^
a macro photograph of a flower. it's abstract and strange, and mostly orange.a macro photograph of a red rose speckled with water droplets.a macro photograph of tiny leaves surrounded by blurred flowers.a macro photograph of a flower against a background of other flowers. it looks somewhat alien.
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Else @else.social · 20/09/2026
post-rave kinda look my makeup held up pretty well!
a cute mothgirl
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Else @else.social · 18/09/2026
my latest bouquet is at the very end of its usable life, with mold beginning to emerge around the middle of the flowers' stems. I'll throw it away quite soon, but around this point is when flowers get really interesting, full of texture and crumbling grandeur that fresh flowers don't quite match
A photography of two types of reddish-pink flowers against a black background. They're speckled with little droplets of water.A macro photograph of red flowers against moldy leaves.A macro photograph of a dying sunflower.A macro photograph of dusty yellow flowers and their green bases and stem. They're all covered with gooey little spikes.
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Else @else.social · 15/09/2026
Elaboration.
"There's nothing wrong with being a cheap lay, and fuck anyone who tells you otherwise, but there's a whole heap of reasons not to let on to that when you're on the hunt. Cheap means disrespect, mistreatment, disposability, and, sure, maybe that's what you want," she gestures expansively with her wineglass, as if to say 'that's me too'. Spills some of it. "No judgement. But even then, if they think you're an expensive thing that wants to be treated cheap? That's something special. That's how you get them to really put in the effort.

"And if you're not satisfied with a one-and-done," she chuckles, "which, really, who is? Then, well, you just make them think there's something special about them. Something that you can't get enough of. Feelings are a good reason for an expensive thing to make herself cheap, and when they think you feel something they will too.

"So what I'm saying, sweetie, is that you deserve better than drugstore earrings and checkout-counter lipstick. Snatch it if you've gotta, but put in a bit more effort, hmm? And for heavens' sake, stop wearing plastic earrings. They make you look like a kid playing dress-up."
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Else @else.social · 14/09/2026
I sure do! I have a *lot* of books (and more boxes downstairs that I still need to unpack). Here's a better view: (it's very disorganized. everything is a process)
A photograph of an overstuffed bookcase.
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Else @else.social · 14/09/2026
I'm a completely normal woman. I'm utterly unremarkable. There's nothing odd or non-normative about my bed.
A photograph of the head of a bed, the wall behind it, and the side of the bookshelf next to it. Three collars and a dog training clicker are hanging from the bookshelf, and there are three prints on the wall. In order they are: a Godiva Ghoul print of a naked woman being doted on by corpses; a Deceased Bunny print of two creatures, one of whom is heavily drugged; and a Vickisigh print of the moon pouring into a woman's eyes.
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Else @else.social · 09/09/2026
I am having such a bad time. Have some technogore
a desktop's innards ripped from its protective shell and splayed out, fully functional, on a soft bed
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Else @else.social · 04/09/2026
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Else @else.social · 03/09/2026
edible
a macro photograph of glistening orange-yellow flower petals.
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Else @else.social · 30/08/2026
I uh hmm no. don't like that.
a photograph of a japanese etymology textbook, showing horrible things being done to innocent moths.
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Else @else.social · 30/08/2026
Vacuum Cleaners Should Come Equipped With Headlights
on the suction head
the nozzle
Gamer LED Suction
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Else @else.social · 28/08/2026
🪡➡️🦋 (yesterday)
a photograph of a needle embedded in a white thigh. there's a butterfly tattoo on it.
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Else @else.social · 27/08/2026
My girlfriend's pet jumping spider, Viola <3 She suggested getting a photo through one of her enclosure's airholes, and it turned out pretty well!
a macro photography of a jumping spider, with a little circle around her eyes formed by an airhole in her enclosure. she's really cute!
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Else @else.social · 24/08/2026
aperitifs
Untitled 31

"chewy", she writes. Her mouth is busy with the meat, and she will not besmirch it with language. "too much gristle. a poor choice."

Her companion shrugs. "Sometimes we must contend with such things." Its voice comes from all around her. None of its mouths are full. "Unfortunate, but inevitable."

She tries to swallow it whole. Does her best and still chokes. "water", she writes, but there is none; all her companion can offer her is a freshly pressed handkerchief. She fouls it with the meat's lingering juices and her throat's thick mucous, gags and cramps until her throat feels ready to split apart and the offending morsel is gone from her body.

"Is that any better?", it asks, plucking the cloth from her lips and leaving her reduced to using her hand to dab at the last specks of saliva.

"no. yes. somewhat", frowning, undecided. "continue?"

It hums thoughtfully, a great rumbling sensation that cannot properly be called a noise. It makes her bones vibrate against her meat. "My choice, again."Gabriel Mountjoy knows when it all went wrong

Gabriel Mountjoy wakes up to the sensation of lips wrapped around his half-turgid cock. A tongue curls around his proud cock-head and probes the entrance to his urethra; slick warmth envelopes him. As he stiffens, the lips take advantage of his growing length, sliding up and down his shaft; suction is applied. A hand fondles his balls. The promise of a throat's tight warmth waits in every eager bob. Gabriel desperately needs to piss.

Sleep is slow to release him. The bed is soft, and the blankets are heavy, and the increasingly insistent mouth is deliriously warm. His mumbled objections become a moan, a whimper, and, God—a release.

It is to her credit that she does not tear herself away from him, though she pulls back as she struggles to swallow. Only a few spurts leak out from her lips' tight seal to moisten Gabriel's close-cropped bush and drip down past his balls to join the sweat puddling under his pert ass. The silk sheets will need to be laundered quickly if they are ever again to be fit to be slept on.

"I—oh, god, Isabel, I'm so sorry!"The Tragedy of Asp and Isolde

Asp kneels on the storeroom floor, a tablet's screen glowing between her parted knees. Her black skirt is bunched up to her waist and her sensible slate-green blouse is unbuttoned, exposing her large breasts to the stale air. She's bent over, her lips barely a foot from the tablet, and two of her hands are busy between her legs, frantically stroking herself; her other pair mauls her breasts, twisting and tugging, hardly paying any attention at all to her too-sensitive nipples. Her face dips close to the screen as her ministrations evoke a particularly heartfelt moan; a strand of drool drips from her lips.

The tablet's screen is the room's only light source. It displays a slideshow of images, one after the next, never quite long enough for Asp to fully consume them. A woman. Her nametag says she's Isolde, but who's to say? It's not uncommon to lie about that to ward off stalkers. Asp moans it out anyway, "Isolde, Isolde—!", the words lost in the wet, squishy noises her hands make with every stroke.

Click, click—

Images lifted from social media. Isolde showing off outfits. Group photos clumsily edited to exclude everyone except her. Thirst traps. Asp's hands work ever more frantically. Photos taken from a distance, through crowds and windows. Candids. Isolde looking bored at the counter, Isolde smiling as she takes a customer's order, Isolde laughing, leaning against a wall of vast copper machines—always Isolde and only Isolde, for Asp has no eyes for anyone but her.The blade sank into the meat like it was hardly there, its dark glass utterly untroubled by the body's efforts to safeguard its physical integrity. So too would it have been untroubled by the thick leather straps holding it still—not that Mme. Fouché would ever sully her knife with *leather*. It was made for meat, for splitting skin and spilling blood and the glossy yellow fat beneath, and the red, *red*, **red**—!

The meat was screaming around its gag. Disgracefully impolite, but what else can one expect? The blade's owner's own contributions to her laboratory's noise were practically modest by comparison, merely a scattered handful of panted moans and the wet, squishy noises emerging from the opposite end of her anatomy.

The blade paused by an artery. Mme. Fouché couldn't see it through the blood, of course, but she could *feel* it. Another few millimeters and the meat's failing heart would empty its contents onto the operating table, the floor, onto *her*, painting her in great gouts of fragrant blood as whatever worthless little mind existed in it fled into the ecstasy of death ... no. No, no, no—Mme. Fouché rocked her hips and practically purred at the way her dildo rubbed against her innards. It had taken a lot of effort to find the right one, but it had been so worth it—death would wait. She wasn't ready.

Another cut, and another. Scraps of meat skewered on her blade and flicked to the floor, where one of her lieutenants dogs might eat it if the janitors took too long. Cuts to drain the increasingly sluggish blood and cuts to expose the bone—she moaned at the briefest glimpse of it. Soon, soon—!
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Else @else.social · 24/08/2026
Imagine the smallest jumping spider ever and also some weird ants
a macro photograph of a tiny spider. she's standing on the crest of a mossy rock.a macro photograph of a tiny spider looking at an equally tiny mealworm. they're on a little clearing on a rock, surrounded by lichen and moss.a macro photograph of tiny ants in a crack in a rock. there's a lot of lichen.a macro photograph of tiny ants in a crack in a rock, standing on lichen.
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Else @else.social · 23/08/2026
bug
a macro photograph of a bug. it might be a weevil, or a beetle?
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Else @else.social · 21/08/2026
In this case, the only thing I did in DxO was bump the microcontrast and apply a film emulation (generic fuji astia 100) to deepen the colors without changing the image's overall feel.
A screenshot of DxO photolab, showing the difference between an unedited and edited version of one of the photos in the stack.
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Else @else.social · 21/08/2026
Incidentally, since no one asked how I get images like this— It's pretty tedious. I use OM Capture + Automator to take a bunch of photos with very small differences in focus (the smallest step my camera's lens supports, I think), process them in DxO Photolab, and stack them in Helicon Focus.
A screenshot of 36 .ORF files (Olympus's RAW format)A screenshot of 36 rendered jpgsA screenshot of Helicon Focus midway through processing all the images in the stack
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Else @else.social · 20/08/2026
🦋
a macro photograph of a dead moth. it's brownish-grey.
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Else @else.social · 20/08/2026
women when there is a corpse
a photo of a macro photography setup
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Else @else.social · 19/08/2026
I'm so normal, chat.
also ftr if you are pretending to be boys with someone and need a mother-figure to interrupt by bringing you a tray of snacks and some lemonade so that you have to hastily pull your clothes back on and pretend that nothing was happening, I would like to apply for that role,
resume:
I can say "are you and your little friend having fun, dear?" in an extremely condescending tone of voice
I know which canapes you like and want an excuse to make bacon jalapeno poppers
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Else @else.social · 15/08/2026
moth behavior
a mirror selfie of a white woman wearing a cute black shirt-dress
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Else @else.social · 12/08/2026
📷->💻
a focus stacked macro photograph of a flower's wet pink petals. it's so unbelievably sexuala focus stacked macro photograph of two flowers, one purple-pink and the other pink. both are beaded with drops of water.a focus-stacked macro photograph of a raspberry. it's so red. I want to bite it.a focus-stacked macro photograph of a wet purple flower.
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Else @else.social · 12/08/2026
🥵💦
a macro photograph of a flower's wet pink petals. it's very sexual.a macro photograph of a flower's anatomy. it's very sexual.
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Else @else.social · 10/08/2026
found a moth :)
a macro photograph of a moth's undersidea macro photograph of a moth's heada macro photograph of a moth's undersidea macro photograph of a moth's underside
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Else @else.social · 10/08/2026
you'd let it eat your heart, wouldn't you?
a tastefully glitchy selfie, showing a white woman making bedroom eyes at the camera. one of her fingers rests between her lips.
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Else @else.social · 10/08/2026
it's probably better that I don't. fire is bad for moths.
holy sunburnt flowerpastel spiraland the crystal moonvoid in decay
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Else @else.social · 10/08/2026
I wish I still had enough of the divine spark to make shit like this ...
a map of empty spaces archetypes.a diagram of the staircase witches climbpsychotic rantingsan incomplete map of the city of corrade, annotated.
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Else @else.social · 10/08/2026
1590773056204673037 probably circa '23
Green liquor, thick and syrupy: it doesn't quite move like a fluid, its shape lagging behind as Erin idly swirls her glass. Thinner than honey, thicker than milk, sparkling in the dying sun's dim light; a treat rarer than apocalypses.

"Are you going to drink that?"

Her companion's drink is probably long-gone, sucked into their synthetic body's chemical factories, but it lingers on in a haze of AR glitches. Broken textures crackling with misinterpreted code, the glass jumping back and forth along its timeline—a veil obscuring their face.

Erin shrugs. "Going to, sooner or later. Doesn't seem much reason to rush."

"Don't want to get it over with?"

"Sort of, I guess, but ... I don't know, what's the point?" She gestures at the empty room, the curve of the station's hull and the broad windows. "Of any of this?"

"Does it need a point?"

"It should have one! Otherwise we're just going through this over and over, drinking our fucking drinks and dying as the world ends for NOTHING. Just killing time."

"That was the point."

"What?"

"Killing time."

"... oh, fuck you.""Last time was, mmm," they tilt their head, eyes distant, "three hundred and eighty six loops ago."

Erin stares at them, her drink forgotten.

"Are you fucking with me? This is the eleventh loop. Also," an afterthought, "that's disgusting."

They shrug, unabashed, unhurt.

"You reset your memories eleven loops ago, yes. It wears you down after a while. You've got the wrong sort of mind for this, Erin."

"... is this a joke? You need to fucking tell me if this is a joke, it's not funny."

"It's not."

Unthinking, Erin reaches for her glass, fingertips sliding over its cool surface as she raises it to her lips. Almost drinks: remembers what that would mean just in time.

"How many."

Even behind their glitching veil it's obvious that they're avoiding meeting her glare.

"... it doesn't matter."

"How. Many."

They repeat themselves, something almost pleading filling their voice. A noise she's never known them to make; a timbre so unlike them."You don't know, do you?"

"... no."

She lifts her drink again, stares at it. The rim feels so natural pressed against her bottom lip, tilting and swallowing such an easy motion to make—something in her remembering all the countless times before. Entropy always wins in the end, doesn't it?

"Fuck it," she mutters, and swallows her drink in one gulp.

For a moment her body is bathed in sensation, the liquor's taste echoing and magnifying until she can feel its touch in every part of herself: delicious and eternal. Her vision glitches; her mind smears.

This is what she will remember when she wakes at the beginning of the loop.

She will never remember what follows: the burning sacrifice, the way she screams in agony as she melts into nothingness, the feeling of her soul unwinding—payment for another iteration, the only coin that's ever mattered—

It's better that she doesn't remember that part.
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Else @else.social · 10/08/2026
1617649210983157763 probably circa '23

"They say that the only currency the Rulers care for is congealed love, extracted from the brains of their discarded playthings."

"Who says that?"

"You know," your date says, "them."

"I really don't."

"Ah ... you said you only came here a few months back, didn't you?"

"Yeah, moved from Station 5 after the air compressors started to fail."

"Well," she pauses, hums to herself, "things are different here. You'll learn. Just don't fall in love with anyone, okay?"

"I don't ... isn't that the goal of dating, though?"

"Yep!"

You stare blankly. She grins happily.

The silence stretches for six awkward sips of your drink.

"So, want to come back to my place? I've got plenty of drugs and the softest bed in town~"
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Else @else.social · 07/08/2026
Pink.
a macro photograph of a flower's dewy pink-and-white petals.a macro photograph of a flower's dewy green-and-pink petals reaching towards the viewer.a macro photograph of a small dew-speckled rosea macro photograph of several pink and red flowers against a black background.
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Else @else.social · 02/08/2026
hmm.
a slightly glitchy selfie of a white woman wearing a red top. one of her hands rests on her chin, and half of her face is in shadow.
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Else @else.social · 02/08/2026
:3
Classic church key, three views. The left end is a can piercer and the right end is a bottle cap lifter.

By Dsuchter at en.wikipedia.org - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Churchkey_patent_1996550.jpg
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Else @else.social · 31/07/2026
dear reader, I ruined her.
a photograph of a flower on a black background. some of its petals are torn away to reveal its interior.
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Else @else.social · 30/07/2026
an innocent flower
a macro photograph of a flower
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Else @else.social · 28/07/2026
classic moth behavior, tbh
a mirror selfie showing off a pair of red American Duchess boots. The white woman wearing them has positioned herself on the side of a messy bed to show off her legs and thighs, as well as the just-visible curve of her breasts. The mirrorless camera she took the photo with is in view, perched on the top of her knee.
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Else @else.social · 28/07/2026
I met a cute guy on the stairs
a macro photograph of a motha macro photograph of the same moth, at a slightly different angle
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Else @else.social · 23/07/2026
🕷️🚬
a jumping spider holding a mealworm
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Else @else.social · 23/07/2026
🕷️
girl has been offered food

girl seems aware of food

girl approaches food

girl seems unsure about food

food is aware of girl

food seems fearful

girl attacks food!

food evades

girl has food!

food is vanquished!

girl brings food back to hammock
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Else @else.social · 19/07/2026
a thirsty moth (she's just like me!)
a photograph of a moth drinking from an orange-and-pink flower. in the foreground an out of focus bee crawls on another flower
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Else @else.social · 19/07/2026
A photograph of a great blue heron in a graveyard. Its head is emerging from darkness. A dead chipmunk dangles from its beak.
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Else @else.social · 14/07/2026
silicone dildo pistol  from google image search
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Else @else.social · 14/07/2026
I mostly try to avoid spending time on explicit worldbuilding these days, but Corrade's masks are an exception, hehe
> "... visitors to Corrade are often struck by the masks worn by many of its citizens. Some report being confused and unsettled; others find these masks comical or reassuring ..."

> "... adding to the common misconception that all citizens of Corrade wear masks (in reality, barely half the population adheres to that tradition), photographs of masked citizens are among the most recognizable images of Corrade, excepting, perhaps, the towering skyscrapers of Central Corrade, their brightly lit windows and gilded angles piercing the Astral Witch's eternal night. Ask a foreigner to think of Corrade, and they will likely imagine a throng of masked students standing beneath the Dodecahedron's eternal flame, or perhaps lovers in flirtatious quarter-masks standing on a pier, silhouetted against the false sun's warm glow ..."

> "... myriad divisions exist within masks, as is true of any item which mixes fashion, ritual, and indeed function, for masks almost entirely supplant the roles occupied by eyeglasses and sunglasses in the territories which adjoin its airport ..."

> "... work-masks, and their close cousins ritual-masks, were the progenitors of the tradition. Typically lightly creased ovals with wide eyeholes and little decoration beyond paint, tradition holds that their origin was early witches' attempt to imitate the visages of Snail, Oak, and Rook, the nigh-legendary primordial powers who first carved Corrade from the thick scar tissue between Hydrogen's Story and the True Sea. Modern anthropologists also point to *Amanita corradii*, a species of fungus endemic to Corrade's coastal forests and inland chapparal, whose asymmetric fruiting bodies develop eyespots in the hours before they begin to release their spores ..."
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Else @else.social · 04/07/2026
oops forgot the image
glitchy moth thighs
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Else @else.social · 30/06/2026
Disgusting pervert.
A cropped macro photograph, showing a section of a flower's stamen. It's very sexual.
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Else @else.social · 30/06/2026
Pervert.
A macro photograph of a flower's stamens.A macro photograph of a roasted coffee bean.
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Else @else.social · 26/06/2026
bonus
a macro photograph of a flower's pollen-encrusted stamena macro photograph of a white flower's petals
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