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Thanks everyone, and happy browsing!

Poll #1840897 Picspams
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 5

Which things would you most like to see me do picspams of in the near future? (pick as many as you like)

Prompt; Short Story

Prompt: "A woman is no different than a man, she has a heart, a soul, and if not schooled in the arts of war, boiling oil on a hot frying pan."



Pha forced her blunt teeth to clamp down so strongly upon her bottom lip that she could feel the skin break like a stomped orange. But it would not do to scream. Her mother and grandmother would not take pity on her if the girl cried out -- if anything they would simply wrap the bindings tighter.

This was not the first time Pha had gone through this. This was not even the second, or fifth, or tenth. She wasn't five anymore; this had been her inherited torture for over seven years. She had cried, struggled, cursed, and even pleaded when she had first begun having her feet bound. But not anymore. Such behavior was shameful. Men thought girls stopped complaining about their feet being bound because the hurt became easier to bear but that only illustrated their total lack of understanding. The fiery blossoms of pain never lessened. Walking became hobbling and only got more difficult as the feet grew into the perfect lotus-shaped. Soon Pha would need someone to help support her whenever she went anywhere, even small distances like across the room. Pha would be just like her mother and grandmother, shuffling her mangled hooves from place to place. Sometimes Pha thought that every bone in her feet had been broken but that couldn't be entirely true, surely a few remained unsnapped or she would not even be able to stand. Or perhaps the unrelenting embrace of her cloth bindings truly were all that supported her.

To think, men believed women to be the weaker sex.

( The rest under the cut... )

Prompt; Short Story
Prompt: "The balloon ride seemed to go well at first."

WARNINGS: mentions of suicide, self-injury, transphobia, bullying



You had to have a sense of self-preservation to be afraid of heights. Nadia wasn't too concerned about preserving the life she currently led, so the distance between her and the swirling ocean of greens and browns below was a non-issue.

The balloon ride seemed to go well at first. The plum-berry and hot pink tips of her blond hair whipped around her head like some sort of confused lollipop. Heh-- confused. What about Nadia wasn't confused?

A rueful bubble of almost sob, almost laugh, escaped the confines of her clenched teeth. This wouldn't do. Grabbing the bottle of Jack by her boot-clad feet, she threw back a couple shots' worth in quick succession. Blinking back the alcohol burn, Nadia pretended the tears were from the whiskey.

( The rest under the cut... )

New profile.
New layout.


The profile was being weird for some reason. If I'm not logged onto LJ and open the link, it shows me an attempted profile I decided against. And randomly it will sometimes show the icons all wonkily spaced, but about 3/4 computers it's fine. Let me know if it looks funky to anyone.