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aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
GenderUnknown's Battlenouns 🔜 MFF
@aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
390 followers 920 following 1.3K posts
| WE GET VORNY HERE, STRICTLY 18+
| Ask me about the Ravel | Worldbuilder
| Environmental chemist | ''Alive'' | Elder Zoomer (29)
| Mexican-American | Any Pronoun | pfp @milkqween
| AI BEGONE
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aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
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.
November 24, 2025 at 1:31 AM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
#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.”
November 20, 2025 at 4:38 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
#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.
November 20, 2025 at 4:12 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
#Novmemeber 19

No working title beyond Nobody’s Servant 2.0 or just NS2 but I suppose this would have worked just as well
SKELETATION ACTIVATATION
November 19, 2025 at 7:33 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
#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.”
November 18, 2025 at 10:21 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
#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
November 15, 2025 at 1:08 AM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
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.
November 14, 2025 at 4:18 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
#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.
November 14, 2025 at 1:18 AM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
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.”
November 11, 2025 at 5:02 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
#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
A headshot of a canine character. Their ears are fully perked, and their eyeless face is impaled by a spike connecting to an eight-pointed halo
November 11, 2025 at 1:10 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
#Novmemeber 9

Ya know, it turned out cuter than I thought it was gonna
November 9, 2025 at 7:39 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
#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.
November 9, 2025 at 1:24 AM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
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?”
November 6, 2025 at 4:23 AM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
the last thing some poor dominion conscript sees before being promoted to skin graft
art by @milkqween.bsky.social
November 5, 2025 at 2:03 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
#Novmemeber 3

Merion was a necrotechnician before they found themself in this mess. Those skills still have their uses.
A green bird puppet says "Fetch me my gouging tools."
November 3, 2025 at 1:19 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
We are at 2200 words and by my estimation I’m gonna need to at *least* double that by tonight. Let’s see if I can pull this off.

This is all building toward f/f long term endosoma/non-digestive unbirth featuring dice which may or may not be Weird, but this snippet’s fairly vanilla and sweet.
Lights dim, pillows piled, towels spread, the dog and the wolf make their preparations. At the foot of the bed, Anita welcomes a forceful embrace from Ka’lina that takes her down onto the covers, muzzles locking in a passionate kiss. Anita starts to back toward the headboard, Ka’lina following after, slightly slower, smooching lower and lower as she does, beginning to dot a line down the corgi’s belly, when suddenly she is swept up to have her own face peppered in kisses instead. “Hey, I had a whole performance going,” Ka’lina playfully pouts. “I know,” Anita says between contact, “but I should give you enough of these to last through the night, right?” “Gods, I love you so much,” Ka’lina gushes, fingers laced in the corgi’s cheek fluff to vigorously knead at her face to the sound of growly protest. Eventually, she relents, relaxing against Anita’s belly, arms around her, head between her breasts to stare dreamily into those big marmalade eyes she adores. “I’m still gonna be right here, you big goof. Now, lean back and let me do my thing?” “Right, yes, sorr–” Ka’lina pulls herself up for one more kiss, interrupting Anita by momentarily slipping her tongue in. She receives some in return, to the tune of a flustered whimper, and she can’t help but smile even wider at the sound of it. “No apologies. Relax for me…”
October 31, 2025 at 2:02 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
#Kinktober #IndieKinktober Coda 3

All in his head, but larger than life.

AO3 archiveofourown.org/works/716891...
FA www.furaffinity.net/view/62798020/

🏷️ #furry #scaly #naga #macro #sizesky #coiling #drugs #heat #apto #aptophilia #writing #nsfw
She moves as if floating across him, supporting her own weight as he reaches up to feel, retracing an earlier path from her neck, mirroring it with the other hand as she descends, tucking beneath a loop of herself and finally resting down on him. He kisses a line down her belly, and she does the same, nipping at the hem of his mesh. It’s a shame she can’t move it on her own, but it’s redundant past this point, all of Luka’s most sensitive spots primed for her touch. He noses into hers as well, as much as he can with his hips and shoulders planted to let her wrap behind his back, but she’s an accommodating shape as well, a slightly pudgy overhang giving him a place to hide his snout, right where hips turn to trunk. Her scent is more intoxicating than anything he’s got stashed, and it’s making his head swim all over again. Luka’s tongue tenses like it’s being squeezed inside her, and Petrichor’s neurons fire like she’s squeezing him. She tastes like more than a thoughtform. It took a bit of practice to learn to taste him too, largely in the form of Luka’s own self-sampling, but elements of the ingrained memory replay immersively for Petrichor’s exploring tongue. Luka would have flexed his hips upward had they not already been suspended there, length left twitching in the air. There’s no mesh for it, no device implanted or otherwise, but Petrichor shares her gratification with him just as he shares with her. All it takes is her invitation to feel, and he does. Luka is as dutiful as ever; Petrichor could probably finish just like this, and then so could he, so would he, his comparatively small body the vessel for the sum of their biochemistries, the coiled fuse that will ignite them both. They jointly decide to drag this out for all it’s worth.
October 29, 2025 at 1:39 AM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
I’ll finish this story tomorrow, thank you for your patience. However *I* am not patient so you all get a teaser

🏷️ #furry #writing #tulpa #naga #nsfw
Luka peers furtively out of his office window, before dialing up the opacity and dimming the lights. “Are you sure this can’t wait, Petrichor?” he asks the empty room. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too,” Petrichor coaxes. Inhabiting Luka’s perceptions rather than any physical space, the coils of her long serpentine lower body shift through the enclosed space and bring her upper body to loom over the back of Luka’s chair. “Giving me a heat cycle was your idea anyway,” she reminds them. The mongoose tilts his head up to meet his companion’s gaze, a bush viper morph from the waist up, angular scales adding to her striking silhouette. “We don’t have the equipment for that here…” he halfheartedly says. “That’s a real shame,” the grinning thoughtform says through a theatrical sigh as she leans over him. He watches her slink over him, the thick trunk of her lower half arcing above to invert herself onto his armrests. “At least help me manage it?” she requests. She delicately takes one of his hands, guiding it to one of the channels of his jumpsuit, unfusing as his finger traces down it like a zipper. “I guess it’s a slow day anyway,” Luka concedes. He braces himself in place as Petrichor goes exploring with her snout, her touch upon his body lacking tangibility, yet the response it stirs from Luka’s body is as real as it gets.
October 28, 2025 at 12:10 AM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
If you come across this post, post your sona(s) NOT smiling

all tangled up inside
October 27, 2025 at 11:57 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
#IndieKinktober #Kinktober Coda 2

In which Merion makes the best of the consequences of their actions in Day 6.

AO3 archiveofourown.org/works/716891...
FA www.furaffinity.net/view/62756990/

🏷️ #furry #reversepetplay #quadruped #tf #implied_tf #vore #mindcontrol #breathplay
Merion’s eyes roll again, in a revealingly person-like expression. “Partly correct, mostly wrong,” they say, beginning to stand, long body turning on itself as they pace out into the most spacious part of the room with Ramon. “For your purposes, ‘the dog’ will do.” The stag is taken aback; they’ve never talked on previous visits. But he won’t let his poise be shaken by something like this. If Asha is keeping a sapient being as a pet then maybe they’re even more alike than he gave her credit for. He forces a laugh, reaching out to pet Merion, who snorts into his palm and begins to circle him. He dislikes how small they make him feel, their quadrupedal shoulder well above his head. “Look, Asha always sends you out of the room for this. You should go,” he insists, extending an arm in the direction of the door and swiftly retracting it as Merion goes in for a sniff, easily a bite instead. “Go!” “No, I don’t think so. I’m sending you out,” Merion counters, stopping to sit and stare down at Ramon. “Don’t waste your chance.” “She can do what she likes.” “Could she tell you to leave? Would someone of your status accept a rebuke from a humble zookeeper? Or would you just get violent again?” Merion’s ears flatten in a hostile gesture. They’re underselling her actual standing, certainly, but the gap between Asha and Ramon could span the sea their city perpetually meanders. Ramon gulps, furrowing his brow to wear anger before fear can slip over him unbidden. “I’ll remove you myself.” “No, you won’t. Sit.” Ramon gets the impulse to laugh again, but instead, he sinks to his knees. “What’s happening?” he wants to demand, but a dry wheeze leaves his throat in its place. He has not been commanded to speak. “You know Asha lets me have the ones that really piss her off?” Merion transmits directly into Ramon’s mind. When they lean down, muzzle beside his ear, they speak in a whisper. “Sooner or later, you were going to end up in a cage with me anyway.”
October 25, 2025 at 4:40 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
Merion narrates, so it’s gotta be them, at least internally.

Externally, nobody loves the sound of their own voice more than Admiral Jen.
He sighs. “Do you understand what the stakes are, Merion?” He overuses my name, like trying to hold the focus of a child. Condescending ass. “Do you understand that the entire sum of all our histories will have been for nothing if we fail?” Jen stands. I already know he’s going to start pacing but it damn near sets me off when he does. Long, practiced strides cultivated in exercises prescribed for the sole purpose of milking grandiosity for all it’s worth. “I will tell you something the public does not know yet,” he continues. “I don’t really care what you do with it. But the Prelature wasn’t here just to raze our city to the ground.” He turns to me, halfway, his reflection in the window staring me down with twofold intensity. “But they very well could have, if not for the quick thinking and selfless sacrifice of 38 furnace workers. Under an onslaught like that, we could never have kept them out of that tower either. Oleander tells me they took something very important.” “They have another piece of Soma?” I say, more mouthing it than speaking it, but it carries. “They have another piece of Soma,” he confirms verbatim, taking his seat again. “At this rate they may well feel emboldened enough to try for the remaining two while we are licking our wounds. So of course I am going to use any means necessary to stop them.” “The creature in the tower, is that what you mean? Are there more of them?” I ask. He actually does chuckle now. “Merion, of course there are more.” He lifts his hand, a single finger extended, pointing upward at the curtain. “There’s one in the room with us now.”
October 25, 2025 at 2:18 AM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
#Kinktober #IndieKinktober Coda 1

This one speaks for itself, I think. Mind the tags.

AO3 archiveofourown.org/works/716891...
FA www.furaffinity.net/view/62707155/

🏷️ #furry #gay #undead #ghoulfucker #blood #gore #bodyhorror #cardiophilia #master_student #role_reversal
“Mine,” Florian growls. He brings his legs up to the edge of the slab, and then, propelling himself forward into a forceful leap, brings his new arms unraveling outward to seize his mentor by the wrists, raising them overhead and squeezing them to the banisters at the landing between their little haven and the lounge. Florian’s body impacts next, legs splayed to wrap around Locust’s hips. He starts to rub, exhaling tepid breath over a fresh bitemark before settling his incisors back into their matching imprint. Locust might have drawn a sharp breath if his lungs hadn’t shriveled at the ripping open of his ribcage. He’ll need to look into getting them their own barostatics independent of the greater chest cavity, but his mind cannot wander far as long as the pain grounds him here. His student will drink his fill. It bubbles out of him, slow and tacky and metallic for the rabbit to greedily lap up, but it’s a relaxed trickle at best, as it ever is. Florian needs more. He draws back momentarily, and unzips to give himself full contact with his mentor. Lengths rub against one another even as he marks a foaming black dot in the vulture’s clavicle and unzips that too, a carbonated black line flanked by two others to pull open his chest, bones and all. Locust was right, Florian’s old hands would still have a fine use. The rabbit reaches in, fingers locking around Locust’s heart and taking a moment, just to feel it beat by virtue of its own electricity and light-to-moderate machine assistance. But then the moment passes, and he begins squeezing.
October 21, 2025 at 4:11 AM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
New kinktober story will be done tonight, I’m *sure* of it

CW body horror, undeath, and not really incest at all but there’s a guy gaslighting himself into feeling like it is anyway
Given a special place among dried flowers and hand-carved talismans is Florian’s heart. His first, anyway; so very long ago, it sat inert in his chest. It was of little detriment to him on its own, but it made finding love difficult. To most, even other undead, a pulse was non-negotiable. At the time, the object of his desire had been an eternal, the typical model of a living person. But, back then, even Locust’s masterful handiwork could not bridge the gap. Beating or not, Florian’s next heart was quickly broken, but to see his original cared for this way still put a stir in his chest, even several replacements later. What a powerful declaration, Florian had mused the first time he laid eyes on it. Locust never made any ceremony of it, at least not to his face. He knew the organ had been retained, but with what importance, he had gone years without knowing. Locust experienced his attachment privately, coveting Florian’s otherwise-discarded pieces but never intruding upon his pursuits. At least, not until the rabbit finally pursued him in kind. Florian mentally reprimands himself for just a moment. He probably should have decided well in advance of becoming intimate with Locust that he wouldn’t also start to enshrine him as something resembling a father figure, but he did. It was an inevitability, he supposes, as in that time Locust had effortlessly demonstrated his wisdom in both worldliness and in the meditations of steel and flesh. But Florian knew neither of his parents, even in the days before communal rearing aboard hidden habitats became the norm, so he makes peace with it, even if a whisper of scandal echoes where he keeps those thoughts.
October 20, 2025 at 1:49 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
Aberrations (not a pejorative term, the process of making em is called aberrating) are sort of a Frankenstein’s monster deal varying in complexity from appliances up to entire people. Potent preservatives and prosthetics make them akin to cyborgs with an added touch of morbid sentimentality.
“All forms are unique and beautiful,” Elekse replies. “Even the era of standard templates and assembly lines cannot change that.” Yhana ducks beneath the torso of a combat exoskeleton hanging upside down, and as my lesser height allows me to pass beneath unhindered, I get a good look at the needle-lined interior. It’s perfect for somebody out there, I’m sure, but it takes a good full-body shiver to dismiss my own discomfort. “But you’ve got no augmentations yourself?” I ask. Elekse laughs heartily. “I will embrace change when I have the good fortune to be called to it. I will source my leather from my own pelt, and with my heart will race at the thrill of reinvention, even if the pulse is only for show.” “We’ve got a friend who would love you,” Yhana chuckles, trying to force it over her clear apprehension. I can’t relate to it, instead I think I get exactly where Elekse is coming from.
October 16, 2025 at 2:37 PM
aldehydebackhand.bsky.social
A commission done for @combak.bsky.social!

A concubine gets some bad news and must flee his old life, into the arms of a mysterious stranger.

AO3 archiveofourown.org/works/72561601
FA www.furaffinity.net/view/62649028/

🏷️ #furry #gay #masterslave #chastitycage #oral #anal #slit #writing #nsfw
“I already introduced myself,” Combak chastises with a waggling finger. “Which makes one of us. Ah well, maybe we’ll get around to teaching you manners yet, You’ve at least got enough to accept a gift when it’s given, I trust?” he asserts, nudging the box over. Damien touches it enough to bring it over, but does not open it. Instead, he finally goes for his drink, soothing his dry beak. He’s upset with himself for losing his composure so easily. Combak stands, stretching his wings; it’s a proper, complete set, not like the bifurcating extensions Damien sports. “See if it’s to your liking. If so, we can discuss terms later tonight. After you’ve done what you ought to.” “See if what’s to my liking, exactly?” Damien asks, eyeing the box with growing uncertainty, but Combak is already walking away. “I’m afraid that’s the one surprise I don’t want to ruin for you tonight,” the dragon grins over his shoulder. “See you soon.” Damien watches him depart out the doorway and turn out of view. He finishes his drink, and he’s half-tempted to finish Combak’s, but decides against it. Surely he’s had enough. Back to the box then. He pushes it back out to arm’s length and carefully tips the lid open. He doesn’t quite process what he’s looking at, at first. Gleaming. Ornate. Snug. And then he does. Snapping the lid shut, he bashfully, hastily pulls it close, blushing brightly enough to show through his feathers. Talons nearly embedding in the lid, he springs to his feet and takes his staggering leave.
October 16, 2025 at 2:24 AM