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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐

@putrefactions.bsky.social
3.2K followers 237 following 10K posts

haunted house of lore, gore, & more : NSFW 🔞🩸 [ he : ⚷ ] [ icon & header credit : patsux, nordek ]

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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 4h
and if today I did the unspeakable
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 07/10/2026
more trash.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 02/10/2026
boy harsher [OCT1]
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 29/09/2026
danse. for @funeralportrait.bsky.social
In a ballroom packed full of the realm's riches, he chose her. Not the courtier with the lavish braid that hanged down to his hips nor the dowager with her stiff widow's peak, but her. She was a white hare in the steel jaw trap of his gloved hands where they seized her, first at the wrists for a customary kiss at her palms and then at her waist. It did not matter how delicate he was with his preamble to lead. Every touch felt like a puncture wound. 

"You seem beggarly without the room's eyes to cover you." He hummed and she blushed as if the words had cut her across the cheeks. Red rushed to her face and into her chest as she was spun out into the heart of the room by his cold hands. His serpentine voice tickled the parts of her where shame lived.

"Fret not, girl, your lord will see you properly dressed and put center stage where you belong.”  

"Where I belong," she thought to herself hypnotically as the handsome musician moved and made an aria out of her.

Every step, every breath, every turn in the weight of her gown seemed to twist the room and all of its attendants towards the prima donna. Their faces became a blur as the count waltzed her through the throng, the hair of a magistrate smearing into the eyes of a mother. Bustles became tricorn hats which became the dark parting of lips framed with shocks of waxy color. It was a dizzying battlefield of costumed corpses twisted in indecipherable, painted gore. She shuddered at the explosion of satin and braced for skull fragments made of lace. A star was born in the cataclysm of gaiety and it was her. 

A lifetime of breath control slipped her mind and hollowed her out as she slumped into her captor, her host, her benefactor. Tucked in his shadow and the blinding glow of her own starry pride, she was ignorant to the tall mirror as they danced past it. 

Where two figures ought to have been, nothing but the faint outline of a ghost filled the frame.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 29/09/2026
monoskop.org/images/7/75/...
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 29/09/2026
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 29/09/2026
from madonna's "sex," 1992
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 27/09/2026
spider from the anchorhold. c : @ penrevekether #walkelincomms
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 21/09/2026
from"love bondage gallery," issue 15, 1990
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/09/2026
ads for trans personals, 1990
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/09/2026
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/09/2026
m. butterfly david cronenberg, 1993
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/09/2026
ray frederick coyle, 1929.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 18/09/2026
tea party. for @seraphendra.bsky.social
On well-behaved days, the castle was a sensible body. The great foyer its mouth with columns like teeth, its central stairwell a tongue that lead towards a dining room for a stomach. Myriad corridors branched like veins to service all of its rooms like cold fingers and toes, pumping its seldom visitors through dusty parlors and aortic halls of mirrors. It was easy to miss the channels that might lead one to the library, great conservatory, baths, or music rooms, instead tumbling guests out into the thick, dark potential space of its cavities. Easier yet if the castle misbehaved. It was in its very architectural nature, from its neurotic angles to its queasy heights, to be naughty. 

Like a child wanting for more time at play, it kept the guest in the dark. She was invited down a hallway that never ended, the only passage of time marked by locked doors at intervals of two minutes glimpsed faintly by the doorknobs shine. It was as chilly and scentless as a tomb as she walked over the nerve towards a destination unknown. It was the pilgrimage that made the faithful, afterall. 

The castle's agitated synapse sputtered in excitement, the floor beneath her heels convulsing with the pressure on its presence. It was first a fit of undulating black mass like a river of insects crawling in uniform formation over an unseen hunk of meat or pile of leaves. Next a gentle tide formed a foamy cascade around her ankles, pleasantly warm despite the eternal winter she had slipped inside from. Last was a blind battlefield of charred carcasses, each one identical in its unidentifiable mass, one stacked over the other in shallow piles of offal and soot. 

There was no smell but the faint breeze of smoke, though not like a crematory or mass grave. Lapsang Souchong, that smoked tea imported from the east in crates of pine like little infant caskets. An entire silver pot of it, steaming on a table behind a door at the end of the hall. 

It opened with a creak for a smile.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 18/09/2026
mask. for @circeus.bsky.social
The evening appointment was filled by a shadow. Beneath the apothecary window, its keep watched the masked figure take the shape of a barque as he crossed the thoroughfare, cutting through the crowd as a prow would the sea. By the time he had ascended the stairwell and reached the shop door, he was a far more imposing shape like that of a gallows or some terrifying escarpment to fall from. Walkelin raised his head in intrigue towards the precipice. 

It was not often he was tasked with transmutation. If he were to abide by the old songs, it was as easy as tying a braid of hay around an apple and leaving it for the witches in hopes something else might take its place. The alchemists had hardly done better by their formulas in their unending quest to turn silver into gold. Yet if there was any process that could transform a silhouette into man, a pile of secrets into something to touch, Walkelin possessed it. 

He could have offered a vial of salts — stimulating when inhaled in short puffs — or mimicked the human soul through musk and offered it as an intoxicating cologne by dram.  It would have been similarly easy to slick a poison on a rapier’s tip. Instead he offered only himself this night, as if one mask could humanize another. The spymaster looked back towards the hearth. This was a different kind of business.

"Come," Walkelin said as he stepped off the ledge into the stranger's darkness, plummeting towards that unforgiving bottom where man lurked, "I have been expecting you."
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 17/09/2026
barista. for @sentientcloud.bsky.social
Few things protected one’s privacy more than the position of barkeep, especially those who served coffee. With the loosening of trade restrictions and the wallets of gentry, the city had flooded with a pungent, brown river of the stuff to rival the gutters. It rushed into every salon and filled every cup at the center of good gossip. Anyone who tasted it smelled of it, too. Rich notes of chocolate, bitter fruit, and the sweet smell of frothed milk betrayed where exactly a lady had spent her afternoon, or how desperate the magistrate's clerk was to get his late work done. But for the barkeep it was a mask of anonymity. By days end she smelled of nowhere and nothing but the carafe and its hot, fragrant steam. Her natural essence had been replaced by lactones, that ripe smell of milk pushed deep into the pores of her nose, her brow, the corner of her lips. Regardless what she said, every word reeked of “how may I help you, may I be of service, is everything alright? ”

There was no room in the apothecary for two to play the same role, its carpeted stage much too small for two servants. Walkelin finished his work at the organ and handed her a small, silver dish of solid perfume which glistened in the parlor's low light. 

Capric acid from goats milk, though surprisingly human. Labdanum resinoid. Ambrette seed. Furfural. Vanillin from lignin, that sweet sigh of death from a plant cell wall. It was altogether the smell of a warm hand grasped gently onto a book, sweat and ink gathered tastefully between the fingers. It was her, the poet, for when she had forgotten herself in a smile and some other’s cup of coffee.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 17/09/2026
maroon alcea. for @antaresxiv.bsky.social
The flower, though beautiful, was meritless in perfume. Its deep red blooms like clusters of sores and gaping wounds implied its better use in healing, however, and so each head of the hollyhock was trimmed neatly by shear and placed in a jar of cool water. By morning the glass had been transformed into a brilliant lantern, infused with the light of an overcast day and the gruesome ink of the petal. It was the same color of glass that hanged overhead the holy icons and glittered around the brazier of each brothel door. It was the color of the body, and by the thick mucilage of the flower's head would it return. At the sound of approaching footfall, the demulcent slime was poured into a flacon of stiff alcohol and bundled in a shift of satin. A piece of folded parchment was wedged between with the apothecary's controlled hand centered on the page. 

"For relief of that which aches, apply as salve or take as spirit. May you brace to find succor in its shiver and sting."
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 16/09/2026
the decameron, 1971
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 16/09/2026
black narcissus, 1947
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 15/09/2026
ꄗ character — walkelin ꄗ setting — apothecary ◊ prompt — share a character and receive a [written] item as crafted by his hand { perfume, poison, or other salve for the soul }
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 15/09/2026
𓉸 character — verrot 𓉸 setting — the castle quarter 🝤 prompt — share a character and receive a [written] experience as to what could be encountered on his grounds { phantasmagoria, haunted objects, death himself }
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/08/2026
I am very sick. so I have picked time with art, books, work, and those I love over the scratchy, wooly wear of social media. I have become hard to reach. "what lies ahead, unseen," was the question : it feels right to share the 10 of cups with you. be well and weird and full of what pleases you.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/08/2026
tentatively reactivating for archival and repository purposes.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 10/07/2026
friday
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 09/07/2026
thursday checkpoint. how are you — how have you been?
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 08/07/2026
hands you this very gently
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 08/07/2026
two thousand dollars per infusion even after insurance. humiliation ritual.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 04/07/2026
I long for a life more strange with less struggle.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 24/06/2026
#oc:words "audience of (n)one," 2K words. a father helps his son pen a score most dreadful. ellipsus.com/read/eWhk6kE...
"Again," Said a voice from across the room. Verrot gave an avian snap of his head and fixed his gaze through the dark. It landed on a chair that was empty just moments ago. He panted as he stood to face the intruder now seated in its weathered cushion. 

"Pity," The man said with one leg crossed over the other, bobbing his ankle. Three hound dogs with long snouts sat at his side, watching the man's boot knock in time with the melody that still hanged in the air. Verrot stared across six beady eyes which seemed to produce their own light in the dark, wondering which one had snarled at him. His father continued. 

"That you play with all your heart and its muster is so lacking."
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 22/06/2026
#oc:words "filial," 1.5K words. a mother assigns her son a task. he abides through malicious compliance. ellipsus.com/read/745Wk2C...
It had always been a sick room, with its pendant vaults and columns making the black hall appear starved down to its ribs. While there were far hungrier chambers buried deep in the manor, this one seemed malnourished and desperate for company. The entirety of its mass, every window and tapestry bolted to the wall, cradled the dining table, its guests, and their feast as if it were the last meal it might ever have. As if the voices that carried through it would never echo again. It was a nervous hall that had sucked in its final breath and after a thousand years, still had yet to let it out.
In such a vast and emaciated place, the figures were exaggerated in it. Despite the sincerity of their gathering and every gesture, the hall had a way of making every word seemed choreographed by playwright. Tonight the mother and son were cast center stage. The young count circled the scene with a long shadow behind him, stalking around the table's edge carved in the shape of twisted dragons.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 13/06/2026
kept in his locket. by @ belceboo. #walkelincomms
walkelin, a feminine intersex man with gynecomastia, sits on a wooden table with his legs crossed to conceal his groin. his silver hair flows down like a river of light. he wears a medical corset, banded with tight laces in order to keep his spine and ribs aligned. he bears similar braces on his thighs, serving as garters to his stockings. a dagger and two cherries sit on the table. he is incased in a wooden frame, carved to show a snake swallowing itself. he looks towards the viewer, the portrait's owner, with intense black eyes with blown-wide red pupils.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 13/06/2026
chronic. #wakelinart #navlin
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 12/06/2026
warja honegger-lavater, "2300 years of medical costume." 1961.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 11/06/2026
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 11/06/2026
www.queermusicheritage.com/trans.html extensive collection of transgender, transsexual, genderfuck performances, music, media representation and ephemera. archival radio scripts, .pdfs of magazines.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 11/06/2026
goodmorning, thursday. today we remember that the way to more weird art is to first protect and give space to weird people.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 11/06/2026
a few more pages added. playing toys.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 10/06/2026
www.alchemywebsite.com/index.html
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 10/06/2026
[archive : pinned] > sites, ephemera, + enjoyable texts
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 05/06/2026
another day partaking of elixirs, potions, and assorted ampoules.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 03/06/2026
very tired : but watched a spider eat a fly and was filled with wonder.
tw: spider insect fly
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 03/06/2026
making something out of it.
a collage of various photographs, medical documents, and paper receipts belonging to the patient
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 31/05/2026
he is so much an owl, but he also reminds me of the groove-billed ani here : delightful
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 31/05/2026
goodmorning, sunday. today we carve out a place for comfort
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 30/05/2026
quick mess. #walkelinart
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 30/05/2026
goodmorning, saturday. today we take it easy.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 30/05/2026
cored. #walkelinart
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 30/05/2026
bend [wip] #verrotart, ichnaea
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 29/05/2026
and that's correct!
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 29/05/2026
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