Ember, Liar of Dreams and Singer of Bones
@vixen-ember.bsky.social
She/THEY|Queer|Trans|Polyam|MDNI
Thoroughly invested in queerotic horror. Sadistic game writer and author. I draw on occasion.
Exhausted vixen with too many morally dubious interests.
https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emberskindled
Thoroughly invested in queerotic horror. Sadistic game writer and author. I draw on occasion.
Exhausted vixen with too many morally dubious interests.
https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emberskindled
Pinned
Introductions... I am the Vixen. You may call me Ember. If I break your mind, I'd apologize, but as a sadist we both know I'm not sorry.
I write across a broad spectrum of interests and post about it, sometimes here, sometimes there.
Mind the tags, or don't, at your own peril.
I write across a broad spectrum of interests and post about it, sometimes here, sometimes there.
Mind the tags, or don't, at your own peril.
Reposted by Ember, Liar of Dreams and Singer of Bones
One hand, it is slightly annoying that a D&D memes subreddit discourse of the day is a bunch of people who really don’t get the game arguing that girl frame is “fetish porn” because it dares to acknowledge sex exists (and people telling them they’re wrong in replies)
BUT on the other hand:
BUT on the other hand:
September 15, 2026 at 2:55 PM
One hand, it is slightly annoying that a D&D memes subreddit discourse of the day is a bunch of people who really don’t get the game arguing that girl frame is “fetish porn” because it dares to acknowledge sex exists (and people telling them they’re wrong in replies)
BUT on the other hand:
BUT on the other hand:
I find myself feeling a quiet and profound joy tonight, as I stare across the city and see the light and feel the noise.
It's beautiful. It's full of life and people and I listen and let the wave of experiences and memory and emotion wash over me.
Tis a lovely vintage of humanity and those beyond.
It's beautiful. It's full of life and people and I listen and let the wave of experiences and memory and emotion wash over me.
Tis a lovely vintage of humanity and those beyond.
September 16, 2026 at 12:57 AM
I find myself feeling a quiet and profound joy tonight, as I stare across the city and see the light and feel the noise.
It's beautiful. It's full of life and people and I listen and let the wave of experiences and memory and emotion wash over me.
Tis a lovely vintage of humanity and those beyond.
It's beautiful. It's full of life and people and I listen and let the wave of experiences and memory and emotion wash over me.
Tis a lovely vintage of humanity and those beyond.
Playing a loyal and devout member of the church of the sun in a DND game, who just happens to have the dead corpses of her 4 closest people linked into her shadow. (history would call them besties, but I'm not a loser so I can say they were fucking.)
September 15, 2026 at 11:37 PM
Playing a loyal and devout member of the church of the sun in a DND game, who just happens to have the dead corpses of her 4 closest people linked into her shadow. (history would call them besties, but I'm not a loser so I can say they were fucking.)
Reading a philosophy book for class and I have to stop myself from giggling because the author reads like he's losing his mind as he tries to dissect consciousness and its origins.
I'm watching a man burn his brain into goo for class.
Grad school is amazing.
I'm watching a man burn his brain into goo for class.
Grad school is amazing.
September 13, 2026 at 2:58 PM
Reading a philosophy book for class and I have to stop myself from giggling because the author reads like he's losing his mind as he tries to dissect consciousness and its origins.
I'm watching a man burn his brain into goo for class.
Grad school is amazing.
I'm watching a man burn his brain into goo for class.
Grad school is amazing.
Reposted by Ember, Liar of Dreams and Singer of Bones
last minute ritual
September 13, 2026 at 1:01 AM
last minute ritual
Reposted by Ember, Liar of Dreams and Singer of Bones
Reposted by Ember, Liar of Dreams and Singer of Bones
Victim/lover with tattoos linked to the cybernetic control lace inside of her. She never knows when the beautiful ink on her skin is going to siphon away her control, reducing her to a voice in a dolls body.
Is it slow? Fast? Instant? Does she even realize it's happened at first?
Is it slow? Fast? Instant? Does she even realize it's happened at first?
September 11, 2026 at 2:25 AM
Victim/lover with tattoos linked to the cybernetic control lace inside of her. She never knows when the beautiful ink on her skin is going to siphon away her control, reducing her to a voice in a dolls body.
Is it slow? Fast? Instant? Does she even realize it's happened at first?
Is it slow? Fast? Instant? Does she even realize it's happened at first?
Worship, faith, the accompaniments of apotheosis and divinity are such fascinating topics.
We cut our goddess from the heavens and mounted them on pikes.
Do the shreds of her personality remember what it was like before I pulled them apart?
Does she dream of being whole again?
We wonder.
We cut our goddess from the heavens and mounted them on pikes.
Do the shreds of her personality remember what it was like before I pulled them apart?
Does she dream of being whole again?
We wonder.
September 10, 2026 at 6:47 PM
Worship, faith, the accompaniments of apotheosis and divinity are such fascinating topics.
We cut our goddess from the heavens and mounted them on pikes.
Do the shreds of her personality remember what it was like before I pulled them apart?
Does she dream of being whole again?
We wonder.
We cut our goddess from the heavens and mounted them on pikes.
Do the shreds of her personality remember what it was like before I pulled them apart?
Does she dream of being whole again?
We wonder.
Reposted by Ember, Liar of Dreams and Singer of Bones
Sometimes I get evil urges to take someone's obedient perfect sub and turn them into a brat from the shadows.
September 10, 2026 at 3:56 PM
Sometimes I get evil urges to take someone's obedient perfect sub and turn them into a brat from the shadows.
I think about skin, mucous membranes and the wonderful world of contact poisons.
Perhaps that is simply perfume on my skin, as we dance in this ballroom, or perhaps it is a sweet smelling poison that promises naught but the slow death of resistance in my grasp.
Care for a dance?
Perhaps that is simply perfume on my skin, as we dance in this ballroom, or perhaps it is a sweet smelling poison that promises naught but the slow death of resistance in my grasp.
Care for a dance?
September 10, 2026 at 5:42 PM
I think about skin, mucous membranes and the wonderful world of contact poisons.
Perhaps that is simply perfume on my skin, as we dance in this ballroom, or perhaps it is a sweet smelling poison that promises naught but the slow death of resistance in my grasp.
Care for a dance?
Perhaps that is simply perfume on my skin, as we dance in this ballroom, or perhaps it is a sweet smelling poison that promises naught but the slow death of resistance in my grasp.
Care for a dance?
Reposted by Ember, Liar of Dreams and Singer of Bones
Splatterhouse mechsplo goes genuinely insane. It might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I think the way this story puts itself across is something to be admired. Sylvia's thrown a couple haymakers out the gate, and I think you should jump on her work.
Chapter 1! 6k words.
This is if "I Spit On Your Grave" was about a Hound, sleazy grindhound mechsplo.
This is a survivor turned sadist's fucked up idea of a power fantasy.
This is a revenge story for every dog that wanted to bite back.
archiveofourown.org/works/92163196
This is if "I Spit On Your Grave" was about a Hound, sleazy grindhound mechsplo.
This is a survivor turned sadist's fucked up idea of a power fantasy.
This is a revenge story for every dog that wanted to bite back.
archiveofourown.org/works/92163196
![A God was dead, and Dirge had killed Her.
Dirge was standing over this God's corpse right now. <nononononononono> Dirge felt like… she? Yes. Dirge thought she was a woman, or at least woman-adjacent. Her body was certainly feminine, wearing a grey tank top that hugged her chest and curves, khakis, and boots. (Okay wait I’m dressed like an imperial soldier. Am I undercover?)
Dirge ignored the voices in her head and looked down at Her lifeless body.
"Nietzsche would have approved.”
[ew]
Dirge stopped, feeling the words as they left her lips. They were greasy. Wrong. She ran her tongue over her mouth like she had tasted something unpleasant. This God… Handler. Handler…. Vesper.
Handler Vesper was still wearing that fucking immaculate black trench coat She wore everywhere, those fucking gloves that She always made a show of putting on, like She desperately needed to display Her power.
Her cap was laying three feet away in a puddle of her own blood.
{So uh… you gonna eat that?}
And those boots. Those fucking boots. Gods Dirge hated how her fucking eyes lingered on those boots.
<WHAT DID yOU DO?>
How the hell did that voice manage to somehow understate a second-person pronoun while shouting?
Dirge pushed the voices aside and sat down next to Vespers lifeless body. "That's the kind of pathetic shit you would have made me say, making me reference a fucking Shattered Earth philosopher like some Academy twat high on her own smug. Had to show your dog was the best in show, right?”](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:wmaifht3amouvrmp5vtnfkny/bafkreibtzsulufkvxtnravnqd2kumymd3h35ptw55omkol3geos666lncm)
September 8, 2026 at 10:33 PM
Splatterhouse mechsplo goes genuinely insane. It might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I think the way this story puts itself across is something to be admired. Sylvia's thrown a couple haymakers out the gate, and I think you should jump on her work.
I think about womb and witchcraft and whiplash.
Set her aflame at the stake
And beware the roots and thorns,
For ash and flame sprout so heartily upon her womb and brow
Set her aflame at the stake
And beware the roots and thorns,
For ash and flame sprout so heartily upon her womb and brow
September 8, 2026 at 10:28 PM
I think about womb and witchcraft and whiplash.
Set her aflame at the stake
And beware the roots and thorns,
For ash and flame sprout so heartily upon her womb and brow
Set her aflame at the stake
And beware the roots and thorns,
For ash and flame sprout so heartily upon her womb and brow
The delight of getting home after a long day, and letting your mind sink into the calmness of your space cannot be understated.
Automotive motions of chores and the quiet that crawls around your ribs and settles atop you so kindly.
To lean one's head against a lover's shoulder, and drink them in.
Automotive motions of chores and the quiet that crawls around your ribs and settles atop you so kindly.
To lean one's head against a lover's shoulder, and drink them in.
September 8, 2026 at 10:24 PM
The delight of getting home after a long day, and letting your mind sink into the calmness of your space cannot be understated.
Automotive motions of chores and the quiet that crawls around your ribs and settles atop you so kindly.
To lean one's head against a lover's shoulder, and drink them in.
Automotive motions of chores and the quiet that crawls around your ribs and settles atop you so kindly.
To lean one's head against a lover's shoulder, and drink them in.
Reposted by Ember, Liar of Dreams and Singer of Bones
the psycho terf groups are starting to have their eyes drift towards diy hrt resources again - so it's a good time to remember that under no circumstances in no world whatsoever for the rest of time should you talk to journalists, especially regarding anything related to diy hormones.
September 8, 2026 at 4:54 PM
the psycho terf groups are starting to have their eyes drift towards diy hrt resources again - so it's a good time to remember that under no circumstances in no world whatsoever for the rest of time should you talk to journalists, especially regarding anything related to diy hormones.
Thinking about the concept of worship of wombs. About ritual, about witches and magic most feared.
Thinking about burning flesh, and how fire sets you free.
Thinking about the concept of weaponizing all of the above, and how that perversion becomes salvation.
Thinking about burning flesh, and how fire sets you free.
Thinking about the concept of weaponizing all of the above, and how that perversion becomes salvation.
September 8, 2026 at 11:51 AM
Thinking about the concept of worship of wombs. About ritual, about witches and magic most feared.
Thinking about burning flesh, and how fire sets you free.
Thinking about the concept of weaponizing all of the above, and how that perversion becomes salvation.
Thinking about burning flesh, and how fire sets you free.
Thinking about the concept of weaponizing all of the above, and how that perversion becomes salvation.
One of them caused the FTL Engine to explode mid-transit to the Imperial retreat, stranding them on Cenotaph.
One of them murdered their Handler.
All three of them are shattered, broken, and they will die alone.
Cerberus Complex.
Coming soon, a mechsplo story about equipment failure.
One of them murdered their Handler.
All three of them are shattered, broken, and they will die alone.
Cerberus Complex.
Coming soon, a mechsplo story about equipment failure.
September 7, 2026 at 10:40 PM
One of them caused the FTL Engine to explode mid-transit to the Imperial retreat, stranding them on Cenotaph.
One of them murdered their Handler.
All three of them are shattered, broken, and they will die alone.
Cerberus Complex.
Coming soon, a mechsplo story about equipment failure.
One of them murdered their Handler.
All three of them are shattered, broken, and they will die alone.
Cerberus Complex.
Coming soon, a mechsplo story about equipment failure.
My first love was in the quiet breaking of someone's shattering psyche, sundering under the unbearable pressure until they let go, stopped pretending, and damned everyone around them in the fallout.
Glad you shared, glad you made it out.
Glad you shared, glad you made it out.
My first love wasn’t scifi or fantasy
It was horror. It was slashers. It was sleaze and grindhouse
My queer awakening, lurid and violent and cathartic and terrifying
So I buried it
But… it awoke in horror
So of course it was going to be back for the sequel
No matter how deep it was buried
It was horror. It was slashers. It was sleaze and grindhouse
My queer awakening, lurid and violent and cathartic and terrifying
So I buried it
But… it awoke in horror
So of course it was going to be back for the sequel
No matter how deep it was buried
September 7, 2026 at 10:36 PM
My first love was in the quiet breaking of someone's shattering psyche, sundering under the unbearable pressure until they let go, stopped pretending, and damned everyone around them in the fallout.
Glad you shared, glad you made it out.
Glad you shared, glad you made it out.
Reposted by Ember, Liar of Dreams and Singer of Bones
Chapter 1! 6k words.
This is if "I Spit On Your Grave" was about a Hound, sleazy grindhound mechsplo.
This is a survivor turned sadist's fucked up idea of a power fantasy.
This is a revenge story for every dog that wanted to bite back.
archiveofourown.org/works/92163196
This is if "I Spit On Your Grave" was about a Hound, sleazy grindhound mechsplo.
This is a survivor turned sadist's fucked up idea of a power fantasy.
This is a revenge story for every dog that wanted to bite back.
archiveofourown.org/works/92163196
September 7, 2026 at 2:57 PM
Chapter 1! 6k words.
This is if "I Spit On Your Grave" was about a Hound, sleazy grindhound mechsplo.
This is a survivor turned sadist's fucked up idea of a power fantasy.
This is a revenge story for every dog that wanted to bite back.
archiveofourown.org/works/92163196
This is if "I Spit On Your Grave" was about a Hound, sleazy grindhound mechsplo.
This is a survivor turned sadist's fucked up idea of a power fantasy.
This is a revenge story for every dog that wanted to bite back.
archiveofourown.org/works/92163196
Introductions... I am the Vixen. You may call me Ember. If I break your mind, I'd apologize, but as a sadist we both know I'm not sorry.
I write across a broad spectrum of interests and post about it, sometimes here, sometimes there.
Mind the tags, or don't, at your own peril.
I write across a broad spectrum of interests and post about it, sometimes here, sometimes there.
Mind the tags, or don't, at your own peril.
September 7, 2026 at 10:24 PM
Introductions... I am the Vixen. You may call me Ember. If I break your mind, I'd apologize, but as a sadist we both know I'm not sorry.
I write across a broad spectrum of interests and post about it, sometimes here, sometimes there.
Mind the tags, or don't, at your own peril.
I write across a broad spectrum of interests and post about it, sometimes here, sometimes there.
Mind the tags, or don't, at your own peril.
Most recent thoughts rattling around in this pallid skull.
Vampires, cannibalism, and using the clay of others bodies as your own building material.
Results of this? Consumption. Go read it, then come yell at me about it, or don't, free will is beautiful~
archiveofourown.org/works/91220891
Vampires, cannibalism, and using the clay of others bodies as your own building material.
Results of this? Consumption. Go read it, then come yell at me about it, or don't, free will is beautiful~
archiveofourown.org/works/91220891
archiveofourown.org
September 7, 2026 at 10:22 PM
Most recent thoughts rattling around in this pallid skull.
Vampires, cannibalism, and using the clay of others bodies as your own building material.
Results of this? Consumption. Go read it, then come yell at me about it, or don't, free will is beautiful~
archiveofourown.org/works/91220891
Vampires, cannibalism, and using the clay of others bodies as your own building material.
Results of this? Consumption. Go read it, then come yell at me about it, or don't, free will is beautiful~
archiveofourown.org/works/91220891