I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned this before or not (TIME HAS CEASED MEANING ALL DAYS ARE ONE), but the way they always animate image inducer Kurt like he’s stuck in a perpetual Vulcan salute is such a marvelous little touch.
I know some people have already abandoned this post solely based on one of the words in the title. Some left because of the word “vore”. Others left because of the word “safe”.
Let me just say, I’m vore fluff garbage and in not much of a stance to judge people who keep to themselves and their own circles- What this post is about is the ones who refuse to keep it in. The ones who drag death into everything. Those who trod all over the people like me who are repulsed by such death.
What they fail to realize is that this is some people’s safe place. Their happy place. I, personally, comfort myself to sleep by imagining safe vore. It’s where I escape to in my head when the world around me is bearing down and crushing me under pressure. I share this, and much more, with many fans of safe vore.
People who like fatal, if they know what they’re doing, will try to respect the boundaries of more sensitive people. If they don’t, they’ll do all they can to force their views in others’ faces, leaving only themselves happy in the end. They’ll take beautiful work and dribble blood (or worse) all over it. They steal people’s personal pictures of themselves and add gross captions, then post it up as art.
People like this are slowly driving good people out of the vore community. I’ve seen it happen several times over, and it’s making me sick. What exactly are you accomplishing by turning someone’s safe place into their worst nightmare? What are you gaining by forcing them out? Do you think there’ll be more art there just for you after they drop it?
This all will either reach only the people on my side of the argument, or the ones I’ve adressed will look, laugh, and keep doing what they’re doing, but now with more pride than before… But I had to say this. The people who I said were being driven out don’t know me, and I don’t know them, but when they leave the community, I feel like I’m losing a friend. I’m beginning to feel like a wolf walking among fur trappers trying to find my pack, and only finding their pelts. The thing that, not long ago, stopped me from feeling so alone is now making me feel more isolated than ever.
So, seriously. Stop your shit and learn some manners, guys. You’re hurting people far more than you may think you are when you toss death into their happy place.
who’s willing to spend the next couple of hours talking about a little baby Montilyet with me
because. because babies.tiny little Montilyet babies.
Josephine catching dignitaries off guard by greeting them with a little girl sleeping in a sling across her chest.
Josephine reading long bedtime stories to her little girl about heroes and dragons and the Inquisitor (that’s your daddy/mommy) and calling her baby Topolina and Carissima and Passerotta in-passing (whereas her spouse refers to them as Da’len or Asala or friggin’ Pumpkin, darling why must you name our child after food)
Josephine twisting her daughter’s long, dark, wavy hair -just like Mommy’s- into delicate updos, only for them to come apart within the next hour.
JOSEPHINE’S SPOUSE GENTLY WEANING THEIR DAUGHTER FROM MOMMY’S ARMS AND CARRYING HER TO BED BEFORE DOING THE SAME TO JOSIE.
but most importantly
Josephine and her Inquisitor having long, in-depth discussions about the potential of having children- and deciding that it’s not for them, or that it’s not the right time just yet, or that they can’t wait to become parents.
Josephine and her Inquisitor finding themselves in an unexpected pregnancy or with a child they weren’t prepared for and feeling lost, anxious, terrified, but somehow elated, or finally, after long and careful planning, finally finding themselves with a dream come true cradled in their arms.
Josephine and her Inquisitor dealing with all the changes in themselves and their relationship, Josephine and her Inquisitor looking for that intimacy they seem to have lost on the way, or on the contrary, Josephine and her Inquisitor being each other’s pillars of strength and the two of them being closer and more stupidly in love than ever before.
Josephine working long and hard hours to ensure her family’s safety and happiness while her spouse cares for their child, or Josephine so entranced by the little life in her arms that she almost forgets the Duke of Kellington for a second.
Josehine and her Inquisitor living their happy and completely average, long lives however the fuck they want in the post-Inquisition years.
I wrote in my last post about objects having souls. This was lazy (as Jonah pointed out over snowy afternoon Guinnesses the other day, and rightly so). This was shorthand. I don’t think you need to have grown up with god to believe in a soul. (I did not grow up with god; I do believe in animating spirits, in our selves, and in the natural world (trees, seas, fields, rivers, hills, peaks, snows, the flowers I bought at Trader Joe’s for $3.99 which are pink and speckled, delicate and tall-stemmed which will last for days and days before the petals fall off.)) But the definition, the immortal aspect, the thing that lasts after the physical part is gone, is not what I meant. That table I made will fall apart some day, it will no longer do its job. It will splinter, rot, maybe get used for firewood, maybe be discarded at the dump, scrap wood, sawdust, dead.
What I meant to say is that some objects are more than their own objectness. The table is made of wood and that wood comes from trees. It’s so obvious, the most obvious thing, but it’s easy to forget. Those wide boards came from a tall tree, roots deep into the dark warm wet earth, branches in the wind, at sway and still. I’m in the table, in that my hands were all over it and thoughts went into it and swears and pleasure. Jon will be in the table, too, his work, the people that gather around it to talk and pass plates. All this energy! There’s a vibration there, when you touch it. It’s not a soul, it’s not immortal. It’s an essence that exists with the energies instilled in the galaxy swirl grains of the tree that died, and the temporary efforts and the temporary use by those of us who will die too.
Okay here’s the deal: When you give an infant access to long hair they wrap their fingers around it and it creates a massive risk of circulation being cut off.
It nearly happened to a baby I held when I was a kid. Luckily his parents were medical professionals and knew to look for it.
Tie your hair back when you handle infants, and check their fingers/toes afterwards. Also if a baby is suddenly and clearly uncomfortable, this can happen with loose threads inside of socks.
Babies don’t have a lot of ways to communicate with you, particularly discomfort. A lot of people don’t know this (I wouldn’t have known it until targeted college courses if it hadn’t nearly happened with a baby I held, I certainly wouldn’t have known as a teenage babysitter) and I don’t want the people in this fandom thinking it’s okay to lean over a baby with hair flowing like a fucking mobile. Check their fingers afterward. And as a disclaimer, I have no reason to believe that they aren’t checking Freddie’s fingers afterwards, but they aren’t showing that they are. Baby fingers and toes are important, protect them.
This appeared in my inbox today. I’ve been staring at it for five hours now and it just becomes more beautiful. @prismavore I see why this JJBA pose spoke to you. Thank you so much for drawing this masterpiece, Kallian looks hilarious and amazing.