new story!!
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I am taking a break from EVERYTHING to make a SHORTER CANCER GAME with the incredibly talented VICH it is A VISUAL NOVEL it is GIRLS it is GOOD
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drawrings
this is how horses are in xrafstarverse…
In Skyrim
I am the world champion of not killing myself. If you ever feel despair, say those words.
It’s been three days since I slept. I probably need a snack. Walking past impenetrable black ghost kitchens carved of obsidian. Acres of bought-out houses, coldly raptured under the overhauled night sky scabbed with nebulae. Even the self-driving cars seem to avoid me. After passing so many buildings that can’t be entered or interacted with, it triggers my condition. Snowdrops and peonies burst through the sidewalk, fuzzy purple Bugloss dope nodding in my periphery.
My brain damage and the entire political situation of the world and our universe can be explained by the fact that all people deep down inside have the genetic yearning to buy Skyrim multiple times, something which has been confirmed by all mainstream psychologists and psychological magazines and medical websites since then. It speaks at something larger within the human spirit that was seeking to erupt from capitalism, something good and perfect…
🌼 MORE 🌼bug convalescence newsletter
Surgery recovery is painful but I’ve been lucky in so many ways. Thank you for keeping me kindly in your thoughts…
I will be strapped into this agonizing apparatus for over a month, unable to draw a full breath, unable to scratch my Trianon wounds…but as always, I put my money where my mouth is!
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STORY
reverse conversion therapy? bored sadistic lesbian? you be the judge…
f/m/m with the young adventures of everyone’s favorite blonde handler lady…YOUR GOOD FRIEND AND MINE…
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game work must slow while I recover but here are some…
GAME PREVIEWS!!!
Conditioning
A lot of men hit on her, failing to understand what will happen. Some of them lose interest. Others freak out. But eventually she’s in a room with two of them who haven’t given up. Latched on like dogs. Two straight males in a back office of the facility. Lights off. The blinds slice evening across their bodies in sickly orange bars.
“So what? Are you going to make us fight?” And that is interesting, already; seeing which one tenses, and which one is prepared to do violence. She wonders if that dynamic will stay true.
👁️ MORE 👁️bloodtime soon
I have surgery in less than 24 hours. Thank you everyone who has brought happiness to my life, and everyone who passes through this little grotto. People have been so kind to me this week, and encouraged me so much. I am a genderless shadow who is full of love.
Decembug Newsletter
FASHION
New apparel presented by me and the talented Vich, two stunning designs available in t-shirt and crop top.
Much thanks to Krabat for feedback on the layout!
The smoking shirt is actually art from a “cute” little scene in the game…which brings me to…
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GAME UPDATES
The Name of Your Disease
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gorgeous cover art by Vich <33
published by Southwest Review, and curated by BR Yeager.
the origin story of Cancer’s handler…a very special lady…what will happen…
xrafstar merch splurch
I made a Cancer character reference site! it is very shiny and cute and I put a lot of work into it…
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xrafstar killers game preview…
Trotula’s office features fully reflective floors and all the psychometric testing you could ask for…
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selling a limited run of INNOCENT stickers here, with delicious art by Vich.
end of summer roundup
=STORIES=
✦ second-story stairs
small story
✦ next cunt toward enemy episode is on patreon early, but I’m mostly focusing on finishing the book so people can read it as a single piece.
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=GAME UPDATE=
it’s going really well…he’s so beautiful. i’m having so much fun…
second-story stairs
I thought he was dead. How long I spent in that second-story room, thinking I was alone, when he lay so still. The mist filled everything, completely clear and attached to my optic nerve. This room is filthy and has loose water and food in it. Plastic drawers and trash. But the walls are solid and normal. The foundation below is even stronger.
👁️⬛⬛xrafstar world august megapost
STORIES
in keeping with last month’s theme of one chill story and one evil story…
✦ Codex: Letterwriting. a brief explanation of how letterwriting works in the xrafstarverse. from an in-game document.
✦ Cancer Dancer. short and cruel and ballet.
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My new story is being published by a magazine around the end of September and Vich did the cover art. Here is a preview of the unspeakable brilliance…
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gallery show at Haul in NY, for anyone who wants to own my prints! there will also be the 18ftleash print by Vich!
🗺️ 24 15th St., Brooklyn, New York
⏳ 1-6PM Sat/Sun
codex: letterwriting
The art of letter writing might have died out, and philately become a terminal study, if it were not for the Telephonic Collapse and other related catastrophes of long-distance communication.
💌 MORE 💌Cancer Dancer
The dancer is a patient and must be made to comply. They cannot be trusted with their own sensory perceptions. They suffer from hallucinations of pain and delusions of exhaustion. There is no such thing as malpractice when it comes to the dancer. You cannot be punished enough. Your skin is an interface for needles and pressure cuffs. Your skin exists only to alert him to your mistakes. You must dance in a state of exposure, so he can inspect you for bruises, stains of clumsiness. Do not think your body is something to be admired. You are a disgusting male. But you are not a man. You are stunted. Your anorexic ribs are a kind of descended gynecomastia. Your bulge is sexless, juvenile, and clownlike. Your body is the mannequin and the dress at the same time. Beauty can never exist for you as a noun, but it might as a verb.
🩰 MORE 🩰cunt toward enemy [s3e9] escapement
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The father keeps a tube of lipstick on his nightstand. Lazur sees it on the rare occasions he is called upstairs, to carry the man’s briefcase or do his tie when the man is falling over drunk. Lazur always assumed it was a memento of the absent mother, until he saw how every trace of her was removed from the house, except for the subliminal rubbish in the basement.
Rich men are freaky. But he’s driven the man to secret and depraved gatherings, and never brought him back with makeup on. The lipstick feels wrong to look at. A sense of something black, congealed, and burnt—yet oozing with endless, leechlike intelligence. The walls must be flaking with toxic pigment. Cadmium red. Lazur holds his breath, and knots the tie.
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💣 MORE 💣