Looks Like One To Me...

old gods are waking

Please send me prices for the doll & for the pattern! I used to crochet very well, but my eyes are not as good as they were. Also, if you think the pattern would work for amigurumi?

Thank you so much!

Hey so I made this doll using amigurumi as the base! So it's absolutely doable. There are lots of parts to sew on so I was thinking of even trying to simplify the pattern.

The good news is I used a bigger yarn so it's actually easier to see the stiches!

I'm offering 50$ plus shipping for the doll to be made by me and 10$ for the pattern.

If I make it, I would say it's a 3 week project, if you want the pattern it'll just take me a week to write it all down!

Thanks for the love!

My new favorite quick interview with Alex - is he becoming more comfortable in his own skin?

@differentcatcat @maxwell-demon @m-f1

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@differentcatcat @askarsjustsoswedish @maxwell-demon @murderbot-moodboard @m-f1

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Oh, holy gods, i'm dying! I must answer this call to action!

@differentcatcat

Taint Misbehavin’: The Gender-Neutral Tragedy of the Human Gooch

You’ve been lied to your entire life.

Not about taxes. Not about calories. Not even about the clitoris.

No — I’m talking about the taint.

That glorious, forgotten slab of flesh. That unclaimed demilitarized zone between the promised land and the chocolate factory. That thin, sweaty strip separating birth from exile.

Let’s set the record straight:

Women. Have. Taints.

And the fact that society pretends otherwise is the greatest act of anatomical erasure since we collectively agreed that “muffin top” was a nice term.

🧠 What Is a Taint?

Also known as:

The perineum (if you’re a doctor)

The gooch (if you’ve owned a PS2 and body odor)

The grundle (if you’ve ever dated a drummer)

The Devil’s Slip-N-Slide (if your festival record is sealed)

Technically:

“The perineum is the area between the genitals and the anus.”

But spiritually?

It’s the unspoken pause in God’s sentence. The hallway between the temple and the abyss. The place where gender, shame, and chafing meet.

🔍 Who Gets One?

Let me be clear:

Whether you’re packing heat or holding space, slanging meat or curating petals, carrying a baby cannon or a soft serve dispenser—

You. Have. A. Taint.

And if you’ve gone your entire life without realizing that, congrats: society’s gendered body-shame campaign worked.

😤 But Isn’t “Taint” a Male Word?

Historically? Sure.

“Taint” was born in locker rooms. Raised by Xbox parties. Educated in Reddit threads. And baptized in the sweat of men who didn’t understand the purpose of a washcloth.

It was linguistically colonized by testosterone.

But anatomically?

It was always co-ed.

🚺 The Untold History of the Female Taint

You think the patriarchy invented oppression?

No. The real villain is linguistic erasure.

Because while men gave their taints nicknames, stories, and occasional bar soap—

Women got radio silence.

Your undercarriage has been:

Ignored

Unlabeled

Uncelebrated

Unclaimed

You’ve spent years exfoliating your thighs and waxing your peach…

…but no one told you there’s a full-blown diplomatic zone beneath it.

A biological Bermuda Triangle. A tactile twilight zone.

Your taint.

📉 Let’s Break Down the Cultural Bias:

Body Part Coverage

Boobs Over - celebrated

Butts - Literally worshiped

Clitoris - Found in 1998

Labia - Misunderstood poetry

Taint - Ghosted

Why? Because it’s funny. And neutral. And sweaty.

You can’t put the taint in a perfume ad. You can’t put it on a billboard. So they buried it.

💀 What Makes the Taint Powerful?

Because it’s:

Genderless

Timeless

Politically neutral

Sensually charged

Biologically disrespected

It’s the only body part that:

Isn’t sexualized

Isn’t sacred

Isn’t politicized

Isn’t aestheticized

Isn’t protected

It just is.

Unbothered. Unbranded. Unapologetically indifferent.

And that makes it sacred.

📚 Linguistic Justice: Let’s Rename It Properly

Unisex taint aliases, rebranded for the equality era:

The Fleshbridge

The Forbidden Fajita™

Undercooch

The Sin Tundra

Devil’s Hallway

The Emotionless Alley

The Oathbreaker’s Strip

The Nether Yawn

Purgatory Patch

The Biblical Buffer Zone™

Choose your fighter. Reclaim your stripe. We’re not asking anymore.

🧼 Taint Hygiene: No Gender Exemptions

Let’s get raw.

Your taint:

Sweats like a liar in court

Collects funk like it’s in a blues band

Suffocates in yoga pants

Smells like the ghost of mistakes past if ignored too long

Male or female — it don’t matter.

Your taint will betray you unless:

You lather.

You exfoliate.

You show it the respect you pretend to give your “self-care routine.”

The taint is the final frontier of bodily respect. Ignore it, and it will out you in summer.

🧪 The Psychological Impact of Owning Your Gooch

Let me be dead serious.

When you finally accept your taint:

Your shame collapses.

Your ego softens.

Your sex becomes better.

Your humor becomes darker.

Your subconscious literally trusts you more.

Women who accept their taint become dangerous. Not because they’re wild — but because they’re free.

💥 The Taint Test: Feminist Edition

Ask your friend with the “Divine Feminine Energy” tattoo:

“Do women have a taint?”

“Can I call mine a gooch and still be empowered?”

“If you ignore your perineum, are you really body positive?”

Watch her hesitate. Watch her blink. Watch her glitch.

Because the truth is hilarious. And hilarity burns the shame right out of you.

🧘‍♀️ If You’re a Woman Reading This…

You now have no excuse.

That strip of skin between the peach and the abyss?

That subtle runway between entrance and exit?

That’s your taint.

And it deserves:

A name

A scrub

A shrine

A Wikipedia page

You don’t need to gender it. You just need to own it.

🤯 TL;DR

The taint is real

The taint is universal

Women have taints

The patriarchy ignored it

But your loofah doesn’t have to

This isn’t just anatomy.

It’s resistance.

💣 CALL TO ACTION

🔁 Reblog this before someone calls it “cisnormative perineum propaganda” 🧽 Send to the friend who forgot to wash hers today 🍑 Share if you’ve ever worn tight leggings with no idea what’s happening underneath 🫧 Save this if your taint is a neglected spiritual quest waiting to happen

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER:

This post is satire, anatomy education, performance art, cultural rebranding, locker room theology, and biological diplomacy.

It is protected by the U.S. Constitution, the Geneva Convention of Postmodern Memes, and the sacred covenant of shower-based self-respect.

If you’re offended:

Wash deeper.

Laugh louder.

Reclaim your gooch.

Because if you can’t name it — the patriarchy still owns it.

And that is the real tragedy.

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It was foretold that he would be…

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He is well hung - and apparently hungover! I was sure he’d been roofied in this one!

The Well Hungover

An Alex fic - NC-17

Alex had slept like the dead.  Only now he sensed the broad daylight and heard a jack hammer deconstructing something close by.  Where was he?  His groggy brain was opaque with fundamental wonderings best illuminated by opening his light-sensitive baby blues.  He cracked his eyelids and waited for the scene to unblur.  He knew his condition could make nothing clear.  Oh, oh a hotel room like any hotel room.  In some cerebral crevice he reasoned that he was on the press junket for his latest movie.  He calmly realized there was no construction noise only the pounding inside his skull. 

I wish I were home, either home, any home, with my Jamesy.  She would fix me.  Alex silently pined for his beloved, all the while knowing he was alone and must comfort himself.  He was forlorn lying on his right side under the blanket.  He thought he might shed a tear or two for his unloved circumstance, if he had any moisture to spare.  He licked his dry lips and moved his tongue around his cottonmouth.  As he lifted his left hand to his face to rub his already red eyes, he noticed there was something in his bed he had been resting his arm upon.

Oh fuck, oh fuck.  He peered closely without moving.  The being was covered with the blanket and also lying on its right side.  Only a bare shoulder was exposed leading up to a head that was mostly covered by a pillow.  Alex stared at the shoulder.  It was graceful in its repose and smooth, soft looking.  Fuck.  He was not in bed with a man, goddamnit.  He stealthily checked his cock for prior partying, i.e. that bit of dried cum that attached his limp dick to his thigh.  His cock was a bit crusty.

Fuck me.  What have I done?  He cast his thoughts back, trying to remember such regrettable circumstances that led him to bedding – who?  It would have to have been whatshername, one of the co-stars on the movie.  She had been flirting and being touchy-feely with him since the press junket began.  Honestly, he barely remembered her from filming and spent too much effort discouraging her now – no, literally keeping her off him, without being mean and blunt about it.  He had complained to his Jamesy about it in his nightly phone calls.  She had vocally caressed him through a hard come and reminded him that he was a courteous gentleman who couldn’t help being so fuckin’ hot and was her Swede-ee-pie forever more.  He could almost hear Jamesy’s sweet southern drawl saying it.  And so now he’d been overserved and fucked the bitch?  Sweet Jeezus Jamesy, I didn’t want to, I didn’t mean it, oh fuck I’m so sorry.  He wished his cock had just refused to stand up.

Alex was so contrite and upset with himself, he felt nauseous.  That sleeping cunt be damned, he leapt and ran for the toilet.  Surely she would have the good sense to dress and go back to her own room.  He managed to hold things down and stuck his head in the sink, dousing his hair with cool water from that tall, wiggly, chic-ass, European faucet.  He drenched his face and drank gulps of water.  He did not doubt that Jamesy would forgive him this lapse.  There were degrees of fun sex that were so meaningless as to be immediately forgettable and so forgivable.  Jamesy trusted him to love only her and bring all his emotions home to her, except those that were Remy’s.  He loved Jamesy deeply and did not give anything to his tricks other than a reciprocal orgasm if he were feeling generous.  That’s why he played with men on the occasion he played at all.  He didn’t remember what really happened in his bed last night, but he knew from his soul he would not have cared one whit, one iota about that bitch’s orgasm or lack thereof.  Fuck her if she can’t take a joke.  And goddamnit, apparently he did.

He was feeling better.  He turned off the water and went to perch on the toilet to see what he could purge.  He was dehydrated, but not really so hung.  His headache had subdued itself to little more than a throb here and there.  He was not going to vomit.  He peed leisurely and grinned to himself about the joke of Jamesy’s desire and inability to hold it for him.  He got up and readied the shower.  He would bygod scrub every bit of her off him.  And he would talk to the director to keep her off him hereafter.  And he wouldn’t mention it to her ever – if she did, he would tell her it was regrettable.  Certainly they were not a thang.  Alex smiled.  He would make it as right as he could.  He had so disappointed himself, and he didn’t remember consuming such overservice.

The shower was hot and healing.  He soaped over and over, rinsing her away, never to be relived.  He took great mouthfuls of hot water and gargled and spat and drank the cleansing water to disabuse himself of any lingering kisses.  He knew if he had fucked her, he had certainly kissed her.  He liked kissing.  He thought about kissing Jamesy, and how sometimes he felt he had absorbed all of her that she lovingly gave him.  Ah, he could be a silly romantic.  He chuckled. 

He would call Jamesy as soon as he was himself, with no vestige left of her, and love Jamesy as best he could over the miles.  He began to hum like he did when he was happy and couldn’t shout about it.

Alex was feeling like himself when he heard the bathroom door open.  Oh fuck no, he would not play a love scene with that cunt flinging herself at him.  He turned off the shower and reached for a towel.  He spoke through the steam, “I’m sorry about last night [sorry I had no resolve to not do it].  I have no feelings for you [except disgust for myself].  Whatever happened is the past [and there it will stay].  Please just go [away, far away].  We will act professionally moving forward [and don’t fucking touch me again].”

The woman didn’t move.  Alex couldn’t see her through the lavish steam of his personal spa.  Then he heard, “Where is it you want me to go, Alex?  I have to pee.”

Oh my fucking god, it was Jamesy’s voice!  What?  How?  When?  Alex flung off the towel and ran to where she must have been, hidden in steam.  He did have a tear or two of amazement.  He grabbed her up and kissed her and kissed her and kissed her some more.  Jamesy sighed, “I love you, sweet man, but I do have to pee.”

Alex knew she was real then.  He carried her to the toilet, put her feet again on the floor, and bade her sit and expel.  He towel-dried his hair and tried to explain where his head had been that morning.  They decided between them that his beautiful head had been up his just as beautiful ass.

Alex sat on the vanity chair with his head in his hands, unable to speak, grateful to the Fates for delivering him from a sickeningly odious decision made in the heat of stupidity.  Jamesy got into the shower and began to narrate last evening:

“My Swede-ee-pie, you had sounded so down in the dumps when last we spoke, I thought I’d surprise you with a visit for these last few day of press questions and able Alex answering all sweetly.  I got your people to let it be a surprise.  I went from plane to hotel to find you alone at the bar, morose and tired.  Baby, you looked so tired and forlorn with those couple of tables of movie people laughing it up.  I watched a minute – long enough for me to see the actress of bitch-and-moan get up and stroll over to you, put her hand on your arm and speak in your ear.  You gave her a little fake smile and an ‘I told you no, just no’ said sweetly.  You shook your head a little as if to clear unpleasant thoughts and went back to nursing your beer.  I sat at a table next to your pretty admirer and asked her if she’d had any luck with the hot man at the bar.  She looked me over and saw that I was not in either the movie or the escort ‘bidness’.  She laughed a little and said she had not even though she had had the hots for Alex Skarsgård ever since they had worked on the movie.  She further needed a fool, i.e. me, to give it a try and be rebuffed royally so she could feel better about herself, I reckon.”

Alex was gazing at the shower when Jamesy looked around the glass block at him and turned off the water.  Alex got up with a soft towel to run softly over his beloved.  He kissed her hair and ushered her to sit with him on the bed.  Alex was feeling more like himself and kept his arm around her.  “It’s beginning to come back to me.  Tell me more, darlin’.”

“So I waltzed over to you and put my hand exactly where her hand had been.  You started to utter a more adamant negative (I imagined), and I said, ‘Don’t tell me I’ve travelled all this way for you to tell me you’re not in the mood, Swede-ee-pie.’  Sweet man, you went from night to day.  You grinned at me.  You hugged me close and maneuvered me between your legs.  And you bent to kiss me, not too much but more of an intimate peck.”

Alex nodded, “And you purred for me.  I don’t know what you said, but it was only mine.  I love you.”

Jamesy cuddled into her naked man and went on, “The pretty bane of your press tour came rushing over all in a dither.  ‘Alex, what in the world does she have that I don’t have?’  She whined at you and I know how much you hate that even with your dick in a mouth.  And you said simply, ‘Me.  She’s got me.  Everybody, this is my wife, Fischer.  She has surprised me.  Please excuse us.’  I hope she closed her mouth eventually.  And remember, you had us almost ‘nekked’ kissing me in the elevator.  You got my tits out!  We would have been fucking if your room was on the top floor!”

Jamesy giggled and Alex kissed her deeply, “Was I kissing you like this, fuckbunny?”  Alex asked and gave Jamesy no breath to answer.

Last night they had melded perfectly with obdurate orgasms that left them both breathless.  Alex mumbled that he hadn’t been sleeping and was tired to the bone on his way to the bathroom.  Jamesy went with him and held him up a little to aid his aim, then she peed.  They fell into bed, both nearly asleep.  Alex had slept hard and snored and dreamt of being chased or worse.  Jamesy left him alone and slept fitfully on her side of the bed until their gyrations left them close enough for Alex to turn toward her and fling his arm over her.

“I wasn’t so drunk, I was miserable,” Alex lamented.

Jamesy pushed her prize to lie down on the bed and proceeded to take him in hand.  “I’ve missed my cock,” she murmured, going down on him until he yelped that it was so good. 

She paused, “This is my cock, is it not?”  Jamesy used a scolding tone.  Alex whimpered, “Yes, ma’am.”

“No one shall ride my cock, is that not true?”  She scolded curtly like the sting of a lash.  “No one, no one, never,” Alex bleated as docile as a sheep.

Jamesy, with thumb and index finger, flicked the head of Alex’s hard, drooling cock, making him yelp and cry her name.  “Please, please, may I pleasure you, my Liege,” Alex sniveled and moaned her name reverently.  He started to touch her and she swatted his big Viking paw away.

“Keep still!”  She ordered her vassal who lay under her as she straddled him and took his leaking hardon into her heat.  Alex wanted to thrust within her; she flicked his erect nipples in turn.  Alex crossed his arms and put his hands over his stinging nips, moaning, “Please fuck me.  Please fuck me.”

Jamesy wove her calves under his legs and scooched her feet up to pressure Alex’s taint under his balls. She grasped his crossed arms and began to slide up and down his thick rod, lingering where she liked, moving her hips round and round, clinching her abdominal muscles and Kegeling his cock repeatedly.  Alex was moaning, begging to come, “I need to come!  Let me come!  I’m going to come!  I am!  Damnit.  Jamesy!” 

Jamesy leapt off his steel and flounced down on the bed, “Me first, you gorgeous fuck.  Fuck me hard with my cock!”  In a thrice, Alex was between her knees thrusting hard enough to make her pussy cry.  Now he touched all her spots consistently.  It was her cock, after all, and familiar with its feudal duties.  Then Alex slowed and made each thrust thorough and clit-grinding.  He smoothed her hair from her face.  He whispered, “My Jamesy,” as he kissed her gently, probing her psyche with his nuanced tongue in his kiss that found in her what made her heart beat so for only him.  He felt the first tremor and sped up his thrusts to gain his own apex.  They loved each other well, crooning to each other through the throes of their synchronous climaxes.

As they lay entwined, Jamesy declared, “Jeezus, I have such a nice cock.”

Alex agreed, “Your cock does good tricks …”

Jamesy interrupted, “No tricks, you hear me, Swede-ee-pie, no tricks – or I won’t let you come next time, my good man – well, serf really, but you do work hard, so hard just like I like it.”  Jamesy giggled.

Alex giggled too, “We’ll have to play that again sometime, my Queen.  I love you, fuckbunny.  It’s only you in my bed with your cock.”  Alex knew he dodged a bullet.

@m-f1 @maxwell-demon @mariuch et al my Tumblrinas - have a good read (or not so good). Love, CatCat

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If you do it, we may come…

I really feel like tumblr’s fallen down on the job in not properly celebrating this very important holiday

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So fucking perv-asive. Hmmmm…

PSA

When you ask me something about the PREVious poster, I always read it as PERV. Just so you know.

Rarely wrong here.

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