Blue Mana Ann🏳️‍⚧️
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bluemanaann.bsky.social
Blue Mana Ann🏳️‍⚧️
@bluemanaann.bsky.social
150 followers 120 following 310 posts
Seems to be some kind of moth. She/her.

https://bluemanaann.itch.io/
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bluemanaann.bsky.social
(3/x)
Her first thought is that her face isn't that bad, really. Her features are.... Not what she expected them to be, but she's human. She can just hide her hands in long sleeves or gloves, and everything will be fine. However, her eyes are drawn to her hair, and it all falls apart. Instead of hair, she finds that a layer of feathers runs around her face, around her head, and down her arms and back. She's only shaped like a human- there's more bird than any human who has ever lived. It's disquieting enough that, as her eyes are drawn back to her face, it clicks. Feathers. Eyes that pierce and never blink. Talons for hands. What the hell is she supposed to do now? Before she can *really* start to panic, however, the lights come on, and the telltale click of a shotgun announce that she's no longer alone.
October 12, 2025 at 1:16 PM
bluemanaann.bsky.social
(2/x)
The first hand finds the bottom of the mirror, and grips it tightly. The second hand gradually wiggles out of the brambles, and the arm snakes out, finding the other hand, and bracing against the edge. A tense, a long, sustained pull, and a humanoid figure drags itself out, bits of bramble snapping and being dragged out with it. The thump of her body hitting the ground jolts her, and it's a while before she moves. Pain from the fall, pain from the myriad scratches from the brambles, and pain from the inescapable feeling that something of importance has been lost forever all become her reality, and she curls up and cries. Before too long, however, she registers the sound of her own voice, and forces herself to sit up. If that *is* her voice, then that must mean... She takes stock of her surroundings. Endless furniture, old knickknacks and a layer of dust. Though she does not know the location, hops soars in her chest. She is home. But home is a very broad category. First. She needs to find out what specific place she's wound up in. She notices a price tag hanging off a lamp, and makes a note. A shop. As her hand pulls away from the price tag, however, a car passes outside again, and she catches sight of her hand. Her blood freezes, and she holds it closer to her face. That... Was not a human hand anymore. Despite her pain and exhaustion. She hauls herself in front of the mirror again.
October 12, 2025 at 1:09 PM
bluemanaann.bsky.social
You may have seen it earlier today, but I posted short-form sections of a story based on Changeling:the Lost. Figured it might be better to make seeing it optional.

Other stuff will be reposted later.
The lights within the antique shop have been down for almost half an hour. Heavy rain patters against dark windows. A bright light shines from outside as a car with its high beams on passes by. Decades-old furniture gathers dust. Silence, broken only occasionally by the murmur of distant conversation on a floor below, blankets everything. Until, very suddenly, a strange rustling sound fills the air. Not the rustling of paper, but of leaves. A mirror, one among many, abruptly becomes the source of a draft. A nearly-still image on its surface belies the flow of air from the edge of the glass. For a moment, nothing appears amiss. And then, the faintest image of a human handprint presses in from the inside of the mirror. It's only there for an instant, but condensation left behind leaves no doubt that it was no trick of the light. The rustling becomes louder, and the surface of the mirror distorts as it pushes outward. One point, then two, then four. A branch. Then another, and another. For a moment, the reflective surface of the mirror runs over the thorns, but it quickly ruptures, breaking the barrier. Where once was a mirror, there is now a wall of brambles, and a hand pushing through them. The hand grasps at the air, seemingly searching for something. Abruptly. The hand jolts forward, up to an elbow. A cry of pain sounds from within the brambles as a fingertips of a second game emerge.
October 12, 2025 at 3:00 AM
bluemanaann.bsky.social
Close enough?
September 23, 2025 at 8:04 PM
bluemanaann.bsky.social
Doodled this a few months ago. If there has ever been any question about my own artistic skill, well...
A poor drawing of Madelyn Harper, an anthropomorphic moth. Next to her are the words "Bug. Why?" Maddie is doing a four-armed shrug in response.
September 9, 2025 at 5:13 AM
bluemanaann.bsky.social
Let's Shave Fiddle, from Stay Toned. If you know, you know.
August 25, 2025 at 2:27 PM
bluemanaann.bsky.social
I've made Heroforge models of about half the cast of my story, but Bess was probably the only one I'd call anything near a perfect success.
A Heroforge reference for the character Bess Carter from the novel Ferrum. She's an anthropomorphic rat woman wearing a black coat over a colorful shirt. In her right hand, she holds a pipe, but what's in her left is obscured.
July 27, 2025 at 9:14 PM
bluemanaann.bsky.social
That didn't quite work. We'll do this.
January 17, 2024 at 3:19 AM
bluemanaann.bsky.social
This one may be my favorite Ninth Doctor Adventure. Others may surpass it, I've still got a lot to listen to, but this is a very high bar to clear.
Doctor Who: The Ninth Doctor Adventures Monsters in Metropolis
January 17, 2024 at 3:17 AM