a tail of two witches (a short original comic)
you can read the rest of it here: https://lalage.neocities.org/monstering
#phm#ryland grace#rocky the eridian#project hail mary spoilers



seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Japan
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from Singapore

seen from Malaysia

seen from Singapore

seen from Australia

seen from Yemen
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from China
seen from Yemen
a tail of two witches (a short original comic)
you can read the rest of it here: https://lalage.neocities.org/monstering

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
"The city, great cemetery of the animal kingdom, was closed, aseptic, over the final buried corpses with their last fleas and their last germs. Man had finally reestablished the order of the world which he had himself upset: no other living species existed to cast any doubts. To recall what had been fauna, Theodora's library would preserve on its shelves the volumes of Buffon and Linnaeus.
At least that is what Theodora's inhabitants believed, far from imagining that a forgotten fauna was stirring from its lethargy. Relegated for long eras to remote hiding places, ever since it had been deposed by the system of nonextinct species, the other fauna was coming back to the light from the library's basements where the incunabula were kept; it was leaping from the capitals and drainpipes, perching at the sleepers' bedside. Sphinxes, griffons, chimeras, dragons, hircocervi, harpies, hydras, unicorns, basilisks were resuming possession of their city."
Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities
The Nature of Horror, Noel Carroll
It seems obvious, doesn't it, that someone who is ignored and overlooked will expand to the point where they have to be noticed, even if the noticing is fear and disgust.
Jeanette Winterson, Sexing The Cherry
sometimes, melancholy will whisper pull me in, pullme in
— Jasmine Sierra, from “Erased Poem #2,” published in Monstering

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The disease resists diagnosis and instead begs
a description. A list of areas I don't feel pain:
Most fingers. My mouth, sometimes. The back
of my left ankle. Usually my forearms. Okay,
now a list of things that alleviate pain:
Being underwater. Biking away. Drinking.
Driving exactly 45 minutes, but only south.
Drinking. Drinking. Drinking. Okay,
how about your doctors? Not to be
dramatic, but Fuck You. Sometimes I take
lovers based on how they touch my back.
Sometimes I keep lovers based on how
they react when I beg them to be dangerous
to me. Listen, I never get to be in pain for fun.
It's always this supermarket-spasm, this
work-limp, the subtle contortion I hide
under another seat taken. Okay, I have
a theory: Once, I had a lover who only
looked at me. So my spine twisted t'ward
their hands. So my hips dilapidated in such
a way that they must have noticed how I
slowed under different weather. I mean,
I drank until I moved soft enough to glide
into them. I mean I biked so fast
their only option was to follow. I mean,
it is not my fault. Sometimes I decide
to spend the night based on the shape
of someone's bed. What is it called
if a body twists against me in the dark
and I am jealous of its ability to do that?
What if I drive 45 minutes three times over
just to be held? What if, alone
in the elevator or break-room
or single-stall-restroom, I hold
my breath until I am underwater?
Maybe that is the diagnosis working
backwards. Maybe if I stop spending
the night I will stop waking up with
so much new hurt. Listen, I threw up
the medication. The bath-water got
cold. The stairs leered when the
elevator broke. My lover's hands were
so gentle and I still bruised. Okay, a list
of things I've told to Fuck Off recently:
Every doctor ever. A memory in which
a now-ex lover tells me to stand up.
My skin and its stubborn welt. My bed,
for how I sink into it. The space between
my shoulders where once I asked
someone to punch me and they did
and it didn't help. How my desperation
rears and snakes. How a multitude
of hands reach to cradle all this
nightmare-ugly and just
the air moving between us
makes me flinch.
Linette Reeman, "In Which I Try To Fire My Body, But Before I Can, My Body Puts In Its Two Weeks,” Monstering
Monsters! We’re looking for your best work to include in our second issue! To find out more, head on over to our website.
Give us your best, brightest, and most magical work. We cannot wait to hear from you.