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Else
@else.social
1.6K followers 830 following 4.9K 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. 🔞

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else.social
Else @else.social · Jan 4
"A prayer, offered in avarice," the cyst-mother murmurs in a voice that is not her own. Her sutured lips are stained by pollen and thin honey; her words emerge from the wasps dancing through her gall-laden hair. "What a delicious thing. I think I will keep you."
Reposted by Else
bagoflenas.bsky.social
Mechanized Welfare is now downloadable as a pdf on itch.
This release is specifically meant for zine printing but you can also let the pdf collect dust in your Downloads folder if you wish.

demoiselle-porcelaine.itch.io/mechanized-w...
Mechanized Welfare by Demoiselle Porcelaine
A collection of short stories
demoiselle-porcelaine.itch.io
January 14, 2026 at 6:33 PM
else.social
I went to the top museum and you definitely weren't there, but their exhibit of photographs taken in the aftermath of the bombing of Hiroshima was a somber reminder of America's atrocities.
January 14, 2026 at 6:30 PM
Reposted by Else
kbdraws92.bsky.social
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘰𝘥𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦'𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.
𝘞𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘐𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘹 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.
Bit of lore :>

#art #poster
A fake poster saying "ONE DOWN SIX TO GO, NO MORE GODS" ONE DOWN in black, the rest in red. There are seven figures with strange sigils and forms on the poster casting a shadow in black on the bottom, the sixth figure has been crossed out with red
January 14, 2026 at 3:56 PM
else.social
It's wild that switching estrogen formulations can have *this much* of an impact lol
else.social Else @else.social · 6d
So one of the things about being on EC instead of EV is that it gives me more of a libido, which makes me want to be sluttier, which makes me more receptive to advances and more inclined to reach out to people, so, uh, make a note of that I guess.

... I should eat some progesterone powder.
January 14, 2026 at 4:03 PM
Reposted by Else
nikkiophan.bsky.social
sitting in my wizard tower figuring out bugs from scratch, like yeah any mage of some ability can take a bug and make em big (like my lovely cat sized spider assistant, I grew her in a dr pepper bottle and she also has a doctorate) but im figuring out how to build invertebrates from first principles
January 14, 2026 at 5:27 AM
else.social
It's very validating when my gf's first response to groping my ass after two weeks apart is to ask why I'm so soft 🥰

(regular moisturizing is sort of incredible, it's making my skin so supple and lifelike!)
January 14, 2026 at 5:36 AM
Reposted by Else
muzzlesbian.bsky.social
"Hound," Handler says in a special voice. "Go To The Polls."
bagoflenas.bsky.social Demoiselle Porcelaine :7 @bagoflenas.bsky.social · 1d
Nothing makes Liberal Sartha Thrace feel good the way putting a vote in the confines of the ballot box does.
January 14, 2026 at 3:30 AM
else.social
There's still time to read the story that people are calling "fascinating", "a treat", and "😵‍💫 need"! Don't delay!

... I mean, it's not going anywhere. It will still be right there after this weekend. It's just fun to write silly advertising copy sometimes.
else.social Else @else.social · 4d
My first story of the new year. 2.5k words about a twink throwing up. Enjoy! ^-^

maybeelse.site/words/contam...
Alexander’s stomach rebels. It cramps and spasms as his body struggles to contain the wrongness inside him. Sweat beads on his smooth skin; his muscles ache and his mouth forces itself open. The bathroom’s tiled floor is cool and peaceful, and he desperately wishes that he could let himself collapse onto it, to curl up and dissociate until it’s all over, but he can’t, he really, truly can’t. He is here and this is now and everything is happening so much. He would be a beautiful sight if anyone was in the bathroom with him, but of course they are not. The throbbing, pounding music filling the rest of the house is far more interesting than a twink suffering the consequences of his choices, and even if it wasn’t the party had been more than halfway towards becoming an orgy when he fled. That’s the way things go, these days; everyone’s drunk and high and bodies are so pretty under red lights and losing track of who you are is so much better than thinking about the empire dying just outside. Sex isn’t about sex any more, but the way Alexander’s body is betraying him certainly is.
January 14, 2026 at 2:15 AM
Reposted by Else
drippydreamz.com
everything has a price to pay
so pay attention.
once you give me your full, undivided attention I can really start to work on helping you lose focus too.

And no, I won't be giving either back.
else.social Else @else.social · 1d
It can be dangerous to describe something as "consuming [your] attention". That turn of phrase is just dripping with implications!
January 13, 2026 at 9:50 PM
else.social
It can be dangerous to describe something as "consuming [your] attention". That turn of phrase is just dripping with implications!
January 13, 2026 at 8:33 PM
Reposted by Else
kitprincess.bsky.social
There really is something so beautiful in poisoning, though? The sly look of a woman, with her beautiful nails trimmed ever so pretty, slowly stirring her drink with her straw as she watches you slowly empty your glass, and the shine of a predator in her shadow as she watches you collapse...
January 13, 2026 at 5:20 PM
Reposted by Else
roxynychus.bsky.social
Priestess caught between two feuding goddesses... Competing hymns swirling in her head, calling her to different paths... Her tongue tangling on opposing prayers... One's sacred wine burning her throat while the other carves runes across her skin... The poor little toy being pulled in twain until...
January 13, 2026 at 1:03 AM
Reposted by Else
nadianova.fi
the thing you learn about hosting game jams is that so many people want to create but to startt they just need someone to put on a really really cute bomb collar around their neck and tell them its going off unless the game gets done. this is the mommydom asmr of artists
January 12, 2026 at 12:06 PM
Reposted by Else
kitprincess.bsky.social
true love is found within the woman who poisons your wine, who tenderly holds your head as you shake and shudder

true love is a woman who tenderly strokes your cheek, who takes you to bed, and brings you wine in bed, just as poisoned, so you can stay a moment longer with her
January 12, 2026 at 6:14 AM
Reposted by Else
badenddoll.bsky.social
just barely made it!! extremely proud and so happy with my #dollkigujam entry. little chapter 0 for a much longer love story about a toy shop owner and her new favorite customer.

i hope you enjoy being miriam for a little while!! someone has to. wanderydaughter.itch.io/in-my-window
In My Window (Act 0) by wanderydaughter
Miriam Baxter is not okay.
wanderydaughter.itch.io
January 12, 2026 at 5:24 AM
else.social
I should write more stories about poisoners.
January 12, 2026 at 6:11 AM
else.social
Honestly, this is one of the stories I'm most proud of. Definitely up there with "Swollen Glands" and "love in the containment breach". ^-^
January 12, 2026 at 5:34 AM
Reposted by Else
packbawky.bsky.social
Terrible videogame idea: the first time you load the game, an internal clock starts. Real time starts passing in the game world. Starting a new save does not reset this clock. Every year, the game gets a bit harder, as NPCs and characters die, and the in-world situation degenerates.
January 12, 2026 at 2:17 AM
Reposted by Else
else.social
One of my favorite thing is leaving huge, gaping holes in a story. Letting the reader see the shape of what's there but nothing more. Writing around those empty spaces.

Today I offer you 1.3k words of ... well, you can figure it out, can't you?
maybeelse.site/words/how-th...
August 7, 2025 at 6:10 PM
Reposted by Else
else.social
Did you (yes, you!) know that I actually finishing writing stories (*gasp!*) from time to time? Really, it's true!

I remembered this one from last year the other day, as I knelt retching and drooling with fresh tears painting my cheeks, and, well ... enjoy! ^-^

maybeelse.site/words/untitl...
Her stomach clenches and she desperately holds her mouth shut, hands clamped tight over her thin surgical mask. Some of the other passengers glance at her; she’s breaking public transit’s unspoken agreement, drawing attention to herself. It’s fucking embarrassing. It’s really not helping. The vomit, when it finally comes bubbling up, is a thousand gooey pearls. They collect in the space between her lips and the mask, spurting out around its edges each time her throat spasms, thick slime insinuating its way through the mask’s fibers to stain her hands with filth. Her stomach is tight and insistent; her thighs ache. Someone starts to say something as the train screeches into a station—she doesn’t know which one, it doesn’t matter—and disgusted laughter chases her out into the humid summer night. Another spasm hits her before she can get off the platform, and she falls to her knees, her hands braced against the filthy concrete. Her entire body shakes as it rejects its contents; she doesn’t hear the train doors close, but she can feel the remaining passengers’ eyes on her as it departs. She really hopes that they can’t see how hard she is.
September 11, 2025 at 7:17 PM
Reposted by Else
else.social
Anyway here's a story about poison.
maybeelse.site/words/her-po...
Her Majesty's Poison Taster
The poison taster stands behind her queen’s throne, eyes downcast. She is the only thing in the hall that is drab and unadorned, denied even the fine livery that the serving maids and footmen wear wit...
maybeelse.site
April 11, 2025 at 4:07 AM
Reposted by Else
else.social
"Her Majesty's Rat-Catcher": a story about a princess, a rat-catcher, and survival sex work. Everyone in it is a bit fucked up and getting worse, and I'm quite pleased with the final twist. I hope you'll enjoy it ^-^

maybeelse.site/words/her-ra...
Patience has never been one of the Ailurine Princess’s many virtues. It did not have to be as she grew, with servants all around to expedite her demands and soothe her needs; her frown brought punishment and her tears begat death. Virtue must be nurtured lest it withers and dies, or so the saints say; wisdom may be taught, and justice drips down the empire’s blade, but patience only comes through practiced denial. Now, as she stares down adulthood’s long road, she finds little enough before her except the exercise of patience. She must await the end of her mother’s unnaturally-extended life (as bloody or uneventful as that should be); she must await the slow accumulation of her agents’ poisons within the bodies of her more-favored sisters; she must await the discovery of whether or not those gilded women have embarked on their own programs of slow sororicide. Perhaps, if she is very lucky indeed, the queen will decide that she is a suitable instrument to enact the royal will upon her more unruly subjects, in which case even more waiting will ensue before she can get to any of the fun parts. It’s enough to make her scream, really! Not that she would. A princess does not scream. A princess must instead find other ways to soothe her frustrations. She paces, ruining carpets; there has been discussion of replacing her boudoir’s floor with marble. She picks and fiddles, ruining dresses; she needles and second-guesses, ruining chambermaids. She is a horrid, needy creature, as princesses often are, and her needs are such simple things.
January 16, 2025 at 7:41 PM
Reposted by Else
else.social
With apologies to William Hope Hodgson, here it is: 3k words about Isobel Carnacki, the famous ghost-finder's lesbian grand-daughter, and her experiences in a state that I hope I will never have cause to visit.

maybeelse.site/words/afterb...
December 16, 2025 at 3:53 AM
else.social
I got rid of the part of my mind that felt weird about reposting my own stuff and now y'all get to suffer >:3
January 12, 2026 at 2:15 AM
Reposted by Else
else.social
My first story of the new year. 2.5k words about a twink throwing up. Enjoy! ^-^

maybeelse.site/words/contam...
Alexander’s stomach rebels. It cramps and spasms as his body struggles to contain the wrongness inside him. Sweat beads on his smooth skin; his muscles ache and his mouth forces itself open. The bathroom’s tiled floor is cool and peaceful, and he desperately wishes that he could let himself collapse onto it, to curl up and dissociate until it’s all over, but he can’t, he really, truly can’t. He is here and this is now and everything is happening so much. He would be a beautiful sight if anyone was in the bathroom with him, but of course they are not. The throbbing, pounding music filling the rest of the house is far more interesting than a twink suffering the consequences of his choices, and even if it wasn’t the party had been more than halfway towards becoming an orgy when he fled. That’s the way things go, these days; everyone’s drunk and high and bodies are so pretty under red lights and losing track of who you are is so much better than thinking about the empire dying just outside. Sex isn’t about sex any more, but the way Alexander’s body is betraying him certainly is.
January 10, 2026 at 8:26 PM