#kalsi human series

[7-minutes-only]

Ember [F]

Spice Level: Fluff Dangers: None Word Count: 1,032 Character/s: Ember Reader: Female Planet: Kalsi Timeline: Main

The slip of paper you pull from the clown woman’s hat is slightly charred around the edges, and has the word “Ember” written on it.

Not an entirely unheard of name. It brings to mind a quieter sort of burn, warm and gentle. The woman who comes forwards as you call out matches it well.

With black hair in an asymmetrical cut, and bright orange eyes, she certainly fits the fire portion of her name. There are ram’s horns on her head, smaller and keeping close to her skull. Her gentle smile and somewhat awkward fidgeting hint at an aloof personality, too. You smile at her, trying to make her feel less nervous.

Before you can speak, though, you’re both ushered into the closet by the clown-dressed woman.

“You both know the rules – seven minutes! Don’t waste them!” she teases, before locking the door, sealing you both inside.

Ember fidgets, and you could almost swear she’s...sort of glowing. There’s a faint white light in her eyes. As her eyes glance around, you end up catching each other’s gaze for a moment, and a mix of emotions settle in your stomach – it feels like butterflies.

“U-Um-” you mumble, quickly averting your eyes away. “Ember is...a nice name. It suits you really well.”

She laughs a little, awkwardly.

“You think so?” she asks. “Well, it isn’t exactly my name...we were all given these slips of paper with fake names on them, for the party. Didn’t you get one?”

No, you didn’t. You shake your head, and she sort of slumps a little in confusion.

“Huh...well, I’m sure it’s nothing. Uh, here, you can-”

She rummages around in her pockets, and hands you a piece of paper. Your fingers brush hers, and they’re...warm. Very warm. On the paper, a small message is written;

“Congratulations on this one-in-a-lifetime chance! For the evening, consider your name Ember. Please refrain from sharing any other name until the event ends.”

“So, Ember isn’t your real name?” you ask, handing the paper back.

“No, it’s not. It’s pretty, though – and would probably get a lot fewer questions about where it comes from.” she answers, chuckling.

You sit in an awkward, though somehow comfortable, silence. It only lasts a few seconds before Ember shifts in place, picking at her fingers.

“Y’know, this...isn’t really the kind of game I’d play normally.” she confesses. “I only agreed to come because I thought maybe I’d end up with-”

She catches herself, and you can feel more warmth in the room. It’s a little suffocating in the tiny space, but you’ll manage.

“S-Sorry, um...that’s a bit rude, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so.” you assure her. “So, then, if we’re not gonna have heaven in here…”

You place a hand on her leg, further down. She gets even warmer towards her core, it feels like.

“What do you wanna have?”

She thinks for a long moment, debating with herself. Finally, she feels around for your arm, and tugs it gently.

“We could still...get close. If you wanted, I mean. I...I’m a little curious about where you came from.” she offers.

You sit next to her, cuddled up in the small space. Sitting together like this, you have enough room to stretch your legs. Hers are...kind of fuzzy, actually. Very fuzzy. Her feet don’t feel much like feet at all – hard and blocky. Wait, does she-

“Are you...some kind of satyr, or something?” you ask. Between the horns, and the strange legs you can’t see in the dark...maybe.

“Sort of. I’m a bit of a mixed thing, though. Goat, elf...demon.” she confesses. The last word is uneasy, like she’s not sure how you’ll take it.

“Is...uh...is this a good demon world or…?” you ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, back home, we...we had a lot of stories. Fictions. Some worlds had evil demons, monsters. Other stories had tragic demons, misunderstood people. Others were pretty much just humans with horns and wings, and sometimes immortality.” you explain. She sort of stiffens.

“Oh. Hmm...a mixed bag, I guess? I’ve heard that my mom was a pretty bad person, but I never met her. I know lots of nicer Demons, though, and my little sister’s...well, she’s not evil, I don’t think.”

“Little sister? Is she at the party?” you ask, not quite understanding how awkward it might be if she was.

Ember sort of shrugs.

“She seems to be coming and going. Not one for social stuff, you know?? Especially not…” she gestures to the closet, to the two of you crammed together. “...this kinda thing. I kinda worry she’s gonna outright refuse to play if somebody pulls her name.” she laughs.

You grin at her. She relaxes a little, and grips your hand. She thinks for a moment, squeezing. Finally, she turns to you, her eyes glowing a little more steadily.

“Y’know...we probably don’t have long left. It would be a waste if we didn’t do anything, wouldn’t it?” she asks.

“You don’t have to.” you assure her. Besides, just talking with her is kind of fun. She shakes her head.

“I kind of...want to. Just a little. Can I ask you to close your eyes, and trust me?” she asks.

You oblige, closing your eyes and relaxing. Warmth spreads across you, like a hug. Ember kisses you, and you feel her hold you, like you’re...precious, in a way. The heat seeps into your skin, your bones. But you don’t feel overheated – in anything, you feel...empowered.

When she pulls away, she pecks your forehead gently, and the overwhelming heat settles into comforting warmth.

“Thanks. I hope I get to see you again.” she says, and you steal a kiss from her as she pulls back.

You both sit for a moment, processing the feelings. Ember laughs, and goes to speak, but is interrupted by the knocking on the door.

“Time’s up! Awful quiet in there…” the clown woman says, and you hear the door click.

Ember smiles at you as the light bathes you both. She helps you up, and exits. As she walks off, she turns back to you.

“I mean it – come find me!” she requests.

You nod, and she smiles before disappearing into the crowd.

[marielle-eva-art]

INFERTILE

Rosary pea seeds, Contraceptive pill

Photography

I’ve always had an aversion to the birth control pills. With many side effects such as irregular bleeding, nausea, sore or tender breasts, headaches, bloating, changes in the skin, and mood changes just to name a few.

I have been battling with regulating my hormones my whole life. Almost 15 years later taking this medication, I find myself helpless in fighting severe infertility diseases. I question whether if the birth control pill put me in this position interfering with my hormones and impacting on the health of my well-being.

https://www.sarahehill.com/the-pill-surprising-side-effects/                              https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/290196#long-term-effects 

My passion for collecting and studying natural objects such as feathers, shells, wood, and seeds has continued for many years. I have confidently placed all native seeds on my shelf until I recently discovered that the red ‘Rosary Pea’ seeds are highly toxic to humans and animals.

Kalsi, R., Modak, A., & Choudhary, B. ABRUS PRECATORIUS (ROSARY PEA)–MEDICINAL USES AND TOXICOLOGICAL OVERVIEW. Agri-IndiaTODAY.        ttp://www.agriindiatoday.in/July%202021-1-3.pdf 

I decided to incorporate poisonous seeds and birth control pills into one photograph using text base art. I aimed to create a statement of how I feel towards the synthetic birth control medication in contrast with the fertile Rosary Pea seeds.

‘INFERTILE’ is the final artwork chosen from the series. 

I personally discovered that utilizing text in my practice, has provided me with the opportunity to express directly, clearly, and creatively what it is I want to communicate through my work.

[swipestream]

On Popular Entertainment: The Missing Ingredient

When diagnosing the illness that pervades modern mainstream entertainment in the US, most armchair oncologists point to symptoms of the disease.  Consumers recognize the wealth of titles that present all the shine and appearance of timeless classics, but have all the weight and import of ephemeral bits of fluff.  Somehow, the increased volume of offerings has not translated into an increased number of profoundly appealing and thought-provoking stories.  Why is it that a feeling of loss predominates whenever one sits down in a dark theater or browses the stacks at the book store or switches on network television?

After all, the Hollywood that gave us Ghostbusters (1984) is the same Hollywood that gave us Ghostbusters 2016).  The Hollywood that gave us Ben-Hur (1959) also gave us Ben-Hur (2016).  The same publishing industry that gave us the genius of a Tolkein gave us the degeneracy of a Steven King.  The same network that gave us The Simpsons (1989-1994) also gave us The Simpsons (pretty much every year since).  Even the world of comic book publishing has not escaped the strange subtraction by addition that afflicts its big brothers.  This is not to say that quality entertainment cannot be found today, even within the mainstream, nor that everything was so much better “back in my day”.  This new millennium has seen its moments of transcendence, to be sure, but even those not dialed in as tight as those who regularly read the blog posts at successful independent publishing houses have started to notice the rising tide of sentiment in the public that something is missing.

The source of that feeling feels just out of reach, because like all lies of omission, there isn’t any one thing that the cultural sleuth can point to and say, “Ah ha!”  It leaves no blank space in the dust or footprint in the sand, because the missing ingredient has no substance in and of itself, it merely informs the process of creation, and finds expression in the actors and characters and situations represented.  To make matters worse, this missing ingredient can be papered over like a hole the dry-wall or – more appropriately – over a missing structural support column.  And while the building may stand with that critical node missing for a while, the stress load placed on the rest of the building will eventually bring the whole thing collapsing down.

Enough with the metaphors, you want answers.

The missing ingredient…

…is wisdom.

And not just on the part of the people who make these films – can there be any doubt as to the wisdom possessed by men who select actresses based more on their abilities in-bed rather than on-screen?  Give some thought to the last few movies you’ve seen or books you’ve read.  They may have been smart.  They may have been clever.  They may have touched on deeper themes.  But how much wisdom did they possess, and how much wisdom did they pass along?

Probably not much when you think about it.

With great wisdom comes great curmudgeonry

To nudge a slowly toppling IP giant along its path to ruin, let’s look at the Star Wars franchise.  The original trilogy touched on a number of deep issues: the primacy of human action and virtue over cold, calculated technology, the importance of familial bonds over political ties, even the rudiments of Game.  In his attempts to recreate the old serials he had grown up watching, George Lucas couldn’t help by draw on and illustrate the cultural wisdom of his forebears.  The most recent offerings have core themes of…remember that one time in A New Hope?  Set aside how JJ Abrams and Rian Johnson used modern technology to improve the look of Star Wars, and one begins to appreciate how their story choices create empty shells of films that share more with the prequels than the originals.  The modern takes on Star Wars are pretty, and they can be a lot of fun, but they don’t bring anything to the table but pretty pictures, fast action, and cheap gags.  They are far closer in spirit to The Transformers than they are to the original trilogy.

  One can also see how forgoing wisdom in favor of cleverness comes at a high price when comparing contemporary works.  The theme of mankind’s struggle to stave off civilizational collapse runs throughout the course of Johann Kalsi’s Corrosion.  Swept up in events beyond any one man’s control, the protagonists exercise caution and judgement, and the cultures most apt to recover from the galactic tragedy of algodecay are those built along traditional and timeless knowledge.  The result is a profound warning of the relative costs of prevention and cure.  Contrast that depth with the shallowness of John Scalzi’s The Collapsing Empire, whose characters are faddish caricatures prone to profanity, petty banter, witty snark unburdened by heavy literary concepts like verisimilitude and the logical consequences of their actions.  Lacking Corrosion’s foundational themes, Scalzi’s work reads as hollow and empty as its characters.

Marvel Comics has turned its back on Peter Parker’s “with great power comes great responsibility” and turned instead toward an “everybody gets a trophy” philosophy.  The results are stories with characters who all speak with the same voice, heroes who face no inner or outer struggles, and villains with all the depth of ant’s footprint.

As Kalsi himself reminds us, the crumbling of the old need not cause a season of despair.  The death of the old media provides the opportunity for the birth of the new, and everyone has a role to play in the healing process our culture is experiencing.  Better yet, the general public has begun to turn its back on the shallow emptiness as well.  The consumer revolt in video games, heavy metal, and comic books continues to roil and demand more and better of the producers.  Even a touchstone example of empty-calorie film-making like the aforementioned Transformers provides a sign of hope.  The most recent entry in the series grossed just half of its budget domestically – were it not for the overseas market, the film would have tanked at the box office.  The American people still enjoy their spectacle, but they need increasingly demand the fireworks serve something greater than spectacle itself.

More and more, that desire for deeper meaning finds expression in the works of independent creators, and finds the audience that has been starved of wisdom for so long.  Castalia House continues to produce projects that present insight into the human condition, such as the planned continuation of the late-great Jerry Pournelle series There Will be War.  Superversives Press has planned a long string of anthologies that delve into the sacred and profane mysteries of everything from love to leadership to masculinity.  The steady drip has turned into a torrent, and those with the wisdom to see the signs can recognize that future looks better all the time.

You have a role to play in bringing that better future to fruition.  To paraphrase Jordan Peterson, if you want to help clean up the culture, start by picking up your own room.  If you want to see more stories rooted in timeless wisdom, start turning your back on the alternatives.  Appreciate films like Gladiator, with its focus on justice for Maximus’ family, and seek out classics like A Man for All Seasons, rather than the latest comedy based upon a complete inversion of the hope and meaning of Christmas.  Recommend books to your friends filled with characters who speak like grown adults rather than snarky teens, books like The Heretics of St. Posentti and Tales of the Once and Future King.  Branch out from the intellectual properties of your youth and take a risk on an author you’ve never heard of before.  Even if that new author is worse than the old, if you register your distaste informally via social media or more formally via review sites, you can warn others away from it.  By such small steps, you can add to the collective wisdom of the West.

And ours is a culture that needs all the additional wisdom it can get.

On Popular Entertainment: The Missing Ingredient published first on http://ift.tt/2zdiasi

[7-minutes-only]

Ember [M]

Spice Level: Fluff Dangers: None Word Count: 969 Character/s: Ember Reader: Male Planet: Kalsi Timeline: Main

The name written on the slip of paper you pull is “Ember”. Fitting, you think, because the edges of the paper almost look burned.

Ignoring the implications of burned paper surrounded by non-burned paper in a fabric hate, you hold it up and call out the name written inside. A woman with asymmetrical-cut black hair and bright, warm orange eyes responds, walking towards you. You notice, too, that her legs are...furry. And...are those hooves? Well, they match the ram-style horns on her head, at least.

She looks a little out of place, honestly – with her eyes turned towards the floor enough to be awkward, but not enough to imply she’s inherently shy, and the fidgeting hands, she looks...uncomfortable.

You try to offer her a reassuring smile, but can’t say anything before you’re both stuffed into the closet. She curls up against the wall, and you search for a way to make her feel more at ease.

“I like your name. It suits you.” you say, somehow kicking yourself for such a bland opener. Still, it seems to help.

“Oh- I...thanks. It’s not really my name, though, y’know.” She says, casually. Like you should know by now.

“It’s...not?” you ask, tilting your head. She looks up at you. Her eyes seem to be...glowing. Faint white light illuminates the space around her eyes.

“No? Everybody got a fake name with their invite, right?” she asks. “See?”

She hands you a folded piece of paper. This one is, somehow, more charred. The edges are black and pieces have burned away.

“Congratulations on this one-in-a-lifetime chance! For the evening, consider your name Ember. Please refrain from sharing any other name until the event ends.” it reads.

You hand it back, and let out a small ‘huh’ sound.

“I didn’t get anything like that. Everybody else got one?” you ask, worried you might have missed something. Was this some kind of cultural thing? A weird party formality?

Ember nods.

“Everybody I’ve talked to got one, at least. Not like I’ve gone around checking every single guest...not like I want to, either.” she says, with that last bit getting darker. Like she doesn’t quite enjoy the company of everyone present.

You decide not the press it...for now, at least.

“Uh...should I have a fake name, too?” you ask.

Ember thinks for a moment.

“I guess if you didn’t get one, maybe it doesn’t matter? Ah, but if somebody asks for your name…” she muses to herself. “Well, just say it’s a secret. I’m sure that’s what...Snowy would be doing, if she was in your place.”

“Snowy?” you ask. What kind of name is that?”

Ember recognizes the disbelief in your voice, and laughs.

“Yeah, she wasn’t happy about her little nickname, either. My baby sister, she’s way better at this whole party thing than me, even if she...doesn’t always like crowds.”

She seems a little more relaxed, looking down – probably absently.

“Y’know...it’s kind of a waste to not do anything, right?” she asks. She still sounds unsure, but a little more adventurous, too. “Even though this isn’t the kind of thing I do all that often…”

You shrug, leaning back against the wall.

“You don’t have to, y’know. The rules only state you have to be in the closet – never mentions actually...doing anything.”

“I know, but...it’s kind of exciting, isn’t it?” she says, as you can see the small smile on her lips. “So, uh...what kind of thing do you even usually do in a situation like this? I don’t imagine anybody...gets that far, right?”

You...don’t actually know. Never got invited to these kinds of parties, back home. Definitely never got with anybody in a closet, either. You blush, and hope she can’t tell.

“I...uh, I don’t know. A lot of people use it to fool around, though. But really, you shouldn’t push yourself. I’m fine just getting to know you a little better. The closet makes it...easier to talk, somehow. Like our own little private room.”

She thinks for a moment, before moving towards you.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asks. You gulp. The air feels so warm. You didn’t notice before, but it’s getting progressively warmer.

You nod, and Ember smiles, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“I don’t actually dislike this kind of thing. I just don’t really like doing it with just anybody. If it’s you…”

She hovers near you, breath warm against your ear. You test the waters, wrapping your arms around her waist, gently pulling her into your lap. She’s not as heavy as you expected, but her hooves kind of dig into your legs.

“Well, if you really want to...who wouldn’t wanna kiss a pretty girl?” you say, turning your head to give her the chance to initiate.

And initiate she does. Her lips are so soft, and her arms move to your shoulders, then around your neck. Warmth spreads through your body – down your neck, across your chest, through your limbs. It intensifies in line with how hard she pushes into you, how tightly she squeezes you, rolling in waves in sync with her breathing. She grinds on your lap, as you move a hand around her back, fishing for any way under her clothes. Just as you think you’ve found something, though…

Knock, knock

“Time’s up! Come on out!” the clown woman calls. You frown at the interruption, and Ember whines.

She gets up, fixing her hair and dress. She helps you up, and pulls you closer by the hand, into something of a hug.

“You should come find me again. I think we should...talk a little more.” she says, as the door opens.

“Deal.”

You exit together, and while there are a few people who take note of how close you are, you get the feeling this world won’t be so bad.

[7-minutes-only]

Snowy [M]

Spice Level: Lime Dangers: Scratching, Word Count: 801 Character/s: Snowy Reader: Human Planet: Kalsi Timeline: Main

The slip you pull the hat has the word “Snowy” written on the inside.

You hold it up, and announce it’s contents. A woman with cool-toned purple skin, white hair, and four massive, ornately decorated horns approaches. Something about her doesn’t feel quite right to you- maybe it’s the fact that her body looks a bit thinner than it should, maybe it’s the way she carries herself like a fox ready to strike, or maybe it’s the fact that her cold magenta eyes are a void of black where there should be white, and white where there should be black.

Whatever it is, it makes your breath catch in your throat as she comes to a stop in front of you. She tilts her head, and you can’t help but mimic her, as you try to place the feeling welling inside you. Lust? A crush? Some kind of perverse fear? Whatever it is, she grimaces at you.

“It’s rather dangerous to mock a demon, you know. Especially one of my caliber.” she warns you, her voice dark and threatening.

You raise a brow, straightening back out.

“Maybe I like dangerous.” you counter, against your own better judgment. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and she grins.

“Is that so?” she asks. She turns for the closet, raising a hand to gesture for you to follow. Her fingers fade to an inky black, and end in sharp, claw-like tips, rather than fingernails.

You follow. The clown woman locks the door.

“Seven minutes! Play nice, alright?” she commands, in a voice that would be playful, if not for how much more you feel like cornered prey in the dark.

Snowy watches you, a golden glow emanating from her. Her eyes, her horns, even markings you couldn’t see through her dress before. Now, they glow like a flashlight underneath a blanket, muted but very much there. Her hand finds it’s way to your chest, and you feel just how cold she really is. The name, or perhaps nickname, is beginning to make more sense. Her eyes train onto yours as she speaks.

“You’re a very lucky little human thing. Do you have magic where you come from?” she asks, and you can feel the cold spreading across your skin. It makes your shirt stick to you, crystals poking your skin. It’s...mind-numbing, somehow.

“No, we don’t. Only in our fairy tales and bedtime stories.” you confess. You worry it might be a mistake, as she grins. There’s a wild look in her eyes, as she leans even closer to you. Her horn grazes your cheek, scratching it. Sharp, far more sharp than you feel a horn should be.

“Oh, that’s so interesting.” she teases, as she digs her claws into your flesh. They’re not quite long enough to reach under the skin, but it hurts. The cold grows stronger, and there’s a sense of mortal dread in the air, like you’ve unleashed something horrible. “Then please, allow me to teach you what it feels like. Do keep an open mind.”

She kisses you, her lips soft underneath the layer of rime that coats them. Her hands move around your body, one gently dragging her claws down your back, the other making you worry what’ll happen when she does finally get into your pants. The whole time, your mind keeps fogging over, keeps trying to submit. But submit to what? What’s going to happen if you give in and offer this...this demon your life? Your soul?

You don’t quite want to find out. You grab her waist, flipping her over. She lets out a grunt as you do, and strains as you pin her wrists against her chest. She struggles, but she’s too weak to do anything but stare up at you threateningly – far less effective, with her disarmed and pinned under you.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, you know.” she warns you. There’s an edge to her words, like she’s breathless from the same excitement you are.

You lean down, and kiss her, lips pressed into hers. She tastes bittersweet.

“I think I’m about to get into you, actually.” you promise her.

You adjust your grip so that you can hold her one-handed, and run a finger down her stomach. There’s a slit in her dress, a cutout on the sides. You run your hand under it, and-

A knock at the door.

“Time’s up! You’d better both still be alive in there!” the woman calls out.

Both you and your new “friend” growl at the door, but get up and fix yourselves anyway. As you exit, Snowy wipes the blood from your cheek with her thumb, before wrapping her lips around it. She gives you a smile, and disappears into the crowd.

Maybe round two wouldn’t be so bad, if you can find her again.

[7-minutes-only]

Snowy [F]

Spice Level: Lime Danger: Scratching, implied mind control Word Count: 732 Character/s: Snowy Reader: Human Planet: Kalsi Timeline: Main

The folded paper you pull from the clown-dressed woman’s hat has the word “Snowy” written on the inside.

Curious, you hold it up. “Snowy…?” you ask, wondering who on earth it could belong to. The woman who responds to your announcement seems to fit the bill, though. At least in personality.

A shorter woman, skinny and unimpressed in her expression, approaches. Her purple skin is decorated with cyan markings that disappear under her dress, and her white hair falls over her shoulders. Her horns, massive and decorated in chains and blue gems, are the most striking, along with her eyes – magenta in color, with black sclera and white pupils. An air of danger surrounds her, as she looks you over. You feel more akin to prey than a peer, at the moment.

Her eyes find yours, and something deep in you begins to stir. Like a deer caught in headlights, you can’t seem to stop staring into her eyes. Her expression shifts, into one somehow lethal and endearing at once, and she grins at you. Her teeth are almost bizarrely white, and you catch a glimpse of her tongue as she leans forward to speak to you. Dark, almost iridescent under the lights, and...long.

“Poor thing.” is all she says, before turning from you, and walking herself into the closet. Your chest wells, as you see three scars running down her back, side-by-side. A fractal of tiny scars spread from them.

Before you can ask, though, the clown woman ushers you in, pushing on your back.

“Play nice! Seven minutes, no more, no less!” she announces, locking the door.

You turn around to see the thing you’ve been trapped in with. Her eyes are glowing now, along with her cyan marks and her horns. The light gives you an idea of her expression – she’s smirking, eyes narrowed as she moves closer, like a fox sneaking up to pounce on it’s prey.

You suppose that makes you more like a rabbit than a deer. Tiny and helpless, without even antlers or hooves to save yourself.

“Tell me, Visitor – was there magic in your world?” she asks, voice low and promising. Your mind can’t fathom what she might be promising, exactly, but your subconscious is begging you to accept. The air feels darker, heavier.

You can only shake your head, as she closes the distance fully. You’re trapped – her horns glow in the dark, and the way she tilts her head to the side proves they’re not too heavy for her to swing if you tried to duck. She laughs.

She snakes a hand around your waist. It’s cold – too cold. And...are those claws? She scrapes them against your flesh, under your shirt.

“Then please, allow me to teach you what it feels like, first-hand.” she teases, pressing her lips against your shoulder. Every little kiss on your skin makes you fall further and further, and cold spreads across your skin with every scratch of her claws. Your knees feel weak, like they might give out.

You tremble, trying to brace on the wall. She clicks her tongue, and bites your arm as she pulls it back towards her.

“If you’re going to fall, be good and fall to your knees.” she commands you.

Your mind accepts the command, and you slide down with little effort. You stare up at her. The glowing seems brighter, now, and she grins at you. You can hear chatter outside, but it doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that she keeps smiling at you.

She kisses you, sitting in your lap. Her lips are so cold, but they taste like berries. She licks your lips, and you let her in. Her tongue snakes over your own, across your teeth, and down your throat. You choke on it, but don’t dare move from this spot. She chuckles, as she pulls it back.

“Gods, you’re adorable. Say-” she begins, before a knock comes at the door. She whips her head around, snarling at the door.

“Time’s up! Get dressed, and get out!” the woman shouts.

Snowy looks you over, and sighs, standing up and adjusting her dress.

“What a killjoy.” she mutters to herself, before grinning at you. “Be good. Come find me, later tonight. We can finish this later, little Visitor.”

You can’t think of a single reason to resist the urge to do exactly as you’re told.

[7-minutes-only]

Windfall [F]

Spice Level: Lime Dangers: None Word Count: 787 Character/s: Windfall Reader: Human Planet: Kalsi Timeline: Main

The slip you pull from the hat and unfold reads “Windfall”.

Confused, you hold the slip up, announcing the “name” written on it. In turn, the goat-man you noticed upon arriving looks at a small note of his own, and grins. He bids farewell to the scary-looking woman he was talking to, and makes his way towards you.

He takes your hand, giving it a small kiss as he does. For a man with the head – and torso, and legs, and...hooves – of a goat, it’s...surprisingly familiar. Rougher lips, but no less gentle than a human. He chuckles.

“Never seen anything quite like me, have you? Many have come from other worlds, but few are surprised to see me.” he says, as he stands up straight. He’s...shorter than you might expect, only standing an inch or two above you. “Well, shall we start?”

The tall, clown-dressed woman you pulled the name from rolls her eyes, smiling as she ushers you into the closet. In the small space, you see a faint, glowing mark on the man’s chest, from under his wrap shirt. You reach a hand to touch it, and something deep in your mind recoils from the notion. He notices that, too, and gently grabs your wrist.

“It’s okay – only a gift from my daughter. Ah, you must not have had people like her in your world, either. Here.”

He pulls the shirt open, revealing a coarse, fluffy chest, with a prominent floof over his heart. He moves the hair out of the way, and you see a...tattoo? Brand? Whatever it is, it pulses slowly, growing and dimming in intensity with a pale golden light. He looks it over as if it were precious to him.

“Would you like to touch it?” he asks, looking at you. You can’t quite bring yourself to say anything, but you place your palm over it. You expect it to hurt, for him to wince, for...something. But it’s only a bit cold, despite how warm the rest of him is.

“Why is it...cold?” you ask, moving your hand over it, feeling it. It paints the skin around it, but not the fur growing from said skin.

“My daughter. But we are not here to discuss my family.” he responds, suddenly moving closer and leaning over you. “Are we?”

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s strong, stronger than his gentle demeanor and softly-spoken words would imply. He places a hand on the wall behind you, and you realize there’s a perfectly open space under his arm to duck away. But you don’t quite want to.

After all, isn’t this exactly the kind of thing you fantasize about? A monster of a man, willing to take you? Maybe this is the best thing to ever happen to you, after all.

He grins, and leans into your ear.

“Would you like to know a secret?” he whispers, breath brushing past your ear. You can only nod in response, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “I can smell you.” he says, before placing a hand under your shirt, trailing up your stomach. He smiles into your neck as he kisses it, moving his hand around your back to hold you close as he pushes off the wall, pulling you into his lap. You feel a moan escape you, as you feel him grind against your crotch.

He toys with the back of your bra, and you could swear you feel it come undone at least three times, somehow. Like he’s playing with your anticipation. At the same time, his other hand moves down to your ass, moving over your pants as he kisses your neck. You gasp, twitching in his hold, drowning in the feeling. How long has it been?

“You...you’re not worried about the time?” you ask, pulling away from him just enough to look him in the eye. He laughs.

“No, not a bit. I’m sure we’ll find each other later, and I savor everyone I get to experience.” he says, squeezing your ass. “Why? Are you impatient?” he asks, teasing you.

Before you can answer, there’s a knock at the door. The clown-woman’s voice calls out.

“Time’s up! You’ve 6 seconds to get dressed before I open this door!” she announces. Windfall frowns a bit at it, but gives you a smile after.

“You heard the woman. She really will, too. But…” He grins. His lips meet yours as he pulls you closer. The light of the outside is blinding as he lets you free, the two of you emerging. He returns to the woman he was chatting with before, but you can’t seem to stop thinking about what you could do with just a little more time.

[7-minutes-only]

Windfall [M]

Spice Level: Lime Dangers: None Word Count: 659 Character/s: Windfall Reader: Human Planet: Kalsi Timeline: Main

The paper you pull from the tall, clown-dressed woman’s hat is folded. The word written on the inside is “Windfall”.

Confused, you hold the paper up, announcing it’s contents. The goat-man you noticed earlier turns from the scary-looking woman he’s talking to, and looks at a piece of paper of his own. He grins, bids the woman farewell with a kiss on the cheek, and makes his way towards you.

“Windfall? Is that...your name?” you ask, tilting your head. Goats are generally...land-bound, aren’t they? The man laughs a little, but you’re ushered into the closet before he can answer.

“Seven minutes! No more, no less!” the clown-dressed woman commands, as she locks the door. You hear a faint laughter as she walks away.

Windfall chuckles to himself, and turns to you.

“I suppose for the duration of this party, my name is Windfall.” he confesses. It doesn’t clear up any of the confusion on your end, though. “But no time for that now – we’ve only got 350 seconds to spend in this place.”

He cups your chin in his hand, looking you over. There’s a mix of fear and excitement welling up in you, across several certain places on your body. He grins.

“I don’t mind, if you don’t. Just bear in mind I’m the one on top, here.” the man says, as he kisses you.

You find yourself pinned under him, as he braces against the wall with one hand, the other placed under him. While you could duck under his arm and escape, if you wanted...you don’t quite want to. After all...this is what you wanted, isn’t it? How many nights have you stayed up, grinding on a pillow about this exact thing?

His leg grinds against your crotch, gentle enough to drive you insane. Like he’s toying with you. He chuckles as you whimper, and his movement causes his wrap shirt to come loose, exposing his chest. He’s...so fluffy, so much more so than you expected. The hair is kinda coarse, but it’s warm, too. Warm...mostly. There’s a cold spot near his heart, that seems to...glow? He notices your curiosity, and smiles.

“Curious? I can show you, if you’d like.” he offers, leaning back onto his legs, putting more space between you.

A feeling of dread washes over you, at the idea of the strangely cold spot on his chest being revealed to you, but you can’t place why, it isn’t even that cold by comparison. It just...does. He takes your wrist as he lifts the tuft of fur over his heart, revealing...a mark. It pulses with faint, golden light. He places your palm on it.

“A gift from my daughter. See? Nothing to fear.” he assures you, before leaning back in. “But we are not here to discuss my family, are we?”

He kisses you. His lips are rough, but not hard. Your mind swims with a mix of emotions as he pushes into you, pressing you against the wall as he spreads your legs, situating himself between them. You can feel him grind against your crotch, rubbing both shafts together through your respective clothes. He moves so smoothly, like he has confidence in what he does.

As he grinds, he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“What do you think? You certainly seem interested. Shall we make a bit of a mess?” he asks, his breath hot against your ear.

As you open your mouth to answer, a knock comes to the door.

“Time’s up! 6 seconds to get dressed, before I reveal you to the whole party!” the clown-dressed woman announces, and you hear her tapping on the door.

Windfall groans, but pulls you closer, stealing one last kiss before the door opens, blinding you both.

He grins, and stands, exiting casually. He makes his way back to the woman from before, and quickly resumes chatting. Meanwhile, you can’t seem to stop thinking about how warm he felt, on top of you.

[7-minutes-only]

Introduction: Human

This is a world with many colorful characters. From Humans, Elves, and Dwarves, to Demons, Valya, and Dragons, the main planet Kalsi hosts a diverse cast of races to immerse into. In this work, you’ll get to experience a delightful (or dreadful) seven minutes with members of each of these, and more! Now, on to the fun bits.

You are a Visitor, brought from a different universe to Kalsi seemingly at random. To celebrate, you’ve been invited to the Rose Ball, a mysterious party hosting guests from across the planet – and even beyond! There are plenty of friendly faces here – from a goatman with a clever look in his eyes and sweet words from his mouth, to a giant half-horse with only two legs who seems just a bit too big for the closet. But not all seem happy to be in attendance, be it for the other guests, or the atmosphere.

Pull a name from the Clown Queen’s hat, and hold your breath that these seven minutes don’t prove to be your last!

[7-minutes-only]

Side Blog dedicated entirely to sharing fic

Specifically, 7 Minutes In Heaven fics!

This blog will, for the time being, focus on just fics for the unreleased project me and my partner are making, with codenames to avoid spoiling anything >:)

The fics will have 2 variants - a male reader variant, and a female reader variant. However, I will try to avoid gendered language as much as possible, so that everyone can imagine themselves in these scenes <3

Pieces will be separated by a [M] or [F] in the title, to denote which variant they are.

Refer to the CW/Tag lists below the cut to help you get around.

Content Warning Legend:

Any content warning with "Evil" in it's description indicates a sort of "enemies with benefits" dynamic between the reader and the character. For example, "Fluff" just means a fluffy scene with you and the character, but "Evil Fluff" means you two hate each other, but you're still only at a Fluff level of spice.

"Fluff" is any piece that contains absolutely NO spice, whatsoever. You'll be lucky to get a single kiss out of these lovey-dovey, snuggly scenes.

"Lime" is any piece with a moderate spice level. Kisses, groping, maybe a removed shirt. Nothing horrendous, but it's heating up in the closet.

"Lemon" is any piece with maximum spice. You're sucking, you're fucking, that closet needs to be deep-cleaned. If this kind of content doesn't appeal to you, please don't open the Read More for it's piece.

"Grapefruit" is our working CW for any piece that features any kind of "harmful" kink on top of the spice - stuff like weapons, threats, and bloodshed. This will usually occur within Evil pieces, but not always.

Tag Legend:

#(planet) - any piece that takes place on the named planet/moon (for example - #kalsi)

#(race) series (for example: #human series) - any piece with that race as the reader. For example, the Human Series features a Human reader character.

^ these two combine into #(planet) (race) series as well ^

#unreleased - in reference to the unreleased project. Any piece WITHOUT the #unreleased tag will be in reference to some other property, which should be in the tags.

#(character) - character sorting tag. Got a favorite character? Search for them! (for example: #windfall)

Because of the way I'm writing this series (with non-gendered reader characters), there's no #mlm or #wlw tags. Instead, please pay attention to the characters and search for any you like with either #(character) x female or #(character) x male to find those specific pairings <3

[marielle-eva-art]

POISON

Rosary pea seeds, Contraceptive pill 

Photography

I’ve always had an aversion to the birth control pills. With many side effects such as irregular bleeding, nausea, sore or tender breasts, headaches, bloating, changes in the skin, and mood changes just to name a few.

I have been battling with regulating my hormones my whole life. Almost 15 years later taking this medication, I find myself helpless in fighting severe infertility diseases. I question whether the birth control medication put me in this position and interfered with my hormones and the health of my wellbeing.

My passion for collecting and studying natural objects such as feathers, shells, wood, and seeds has continued for many years. While all native seeds have sat on my shelf, I recently discovered the red ‘Rosary Pea’ seeds are highly toxic to humans and animals.

Kalsi, R., Modak, A., & Choudhary, B. ABRUS PRECATORIUS (ROSARY PEA)–MEDICINAL USES AND TOXICOLOGICAL OVERVIEW. Agri-IndiaTODAY.  http://www.agriindiatoday.in/July%202021-1-3.pdf

In contrast, I decided to incorporate the poisonous seeds with the birth control pill into a photograph, to make a personal statement of how I’ve emotionally felt towards this medication.

This ‘POISON’ is the final artwork I selected from the series.