#A Memory Of Witches

[slowlysointernet]

Telling the reader what a character is vs showing the reader. This passage is from A Memory of Witches (Instinct: An Animal Rescuers Anthology) Sherwood's short story.

Everything in this passage describing Adam made me cringe. Since when did Adam have a ''fierce personality'' 😂? Comparing him to Alexander the Great 😑

You can really tell the author is in love with Adam because it feels like I'm being forced to see Adam as this special and unique Alpha when in the main series we are never shown this Adam. Stop telling and start showing. But then again at this point 13 books in you can't really convince this reader that he's anything but bland.

[iwasbored777]

The way Glinda looks at the statue and she throws the torch so quickly to burn it, I think it wasn't just that she was pretending to be ok with people celebrating Elphaba's death but because she hates this image of Elphaba. She hates the "Wicked Witch" because she knows that this is not who Elphaba was. She'll never see her friend again but this image will stay, even though it's not true. And she tells the story hoping that someone will understand.

[inspiredrawaw]

I love the white hair lads (gender neutral) with memory issues, half blind, witch aesthetic, black n white color scheme, doesn’t remember where they came from, a desire to protect and be there for the children of the group, and an incapability to talk to their loved ones about their struggles

and also massive gender envy and CLOAKS TO HIDE SECRETS. I hope this comes across as silly fun comparisons of characters who have my heart dearly.

[clumsypuppy]

@heropartnerweek 2025 day 3 - recovery

dialga revived neptune using the last minutes before he disappears. because of this, he's sustaining the injuries from the fight when he reunites with marmalade.

[theallianceofcelestials]

Important thing just popped up for fic writers and artists

Hello everyone! I'm writing this because I've locked my fics on AO3, due to a GenAI scrap of AO3. Most of my works are sadly affected, and have thus gotten stolen, except for like the newest two. @morriganfey has locked hers down too, and some others may too in the future.

If you want to read my works, whether new ones or old ones, you should get an AO3 account! I promise it makes things much easier!

If you're a writer on AO3, you might want to take a look at this Reddit post, see if any of your works are affected

This is a problem regardless of fandom or anything. If your fics weren't locked down already, and they fall between a certain number of ids, then it got stolen.

Now I've tagged this with mostly my own fics and the fandoms I've been posting fics in, but I've also tagged some Anti-AI tags and some tags relating to AO3, so hopefully a couple more people will see it too.

It'd be great if people could reblog this. Because regardless of fandom, this is a problem for everyone, both for artists and for writers

Thanks everyone! Even if this is really annoying, I know

[nephritebabie]

>.<

[always-a-king-or-queen]

The ache will go away, eventually. 

That was what the Professor told them, the day they got back. When they tumbled from the wardrobe in a heap of tangled limbs, and found that the world had been torn from under their feet with all the kindness of a serpent. 

They picked themselves off of the floorboards with smiles plastered on child faces, and sat with the Professor in his study drinking cup after cup of tea. 

But the smiles were fake. The tea was like ash on their tongues. And when they went to bed that night, none of them could sleep in beds that were too foreign, in bodies that had not been their own for years. Instead they grouped into one room and sat on the floor and whispered, late into the night. 

When morning came, Mrs. Macready discovered the four of them asleep in Peter and Edmund’s bedroom, tangled in a heap of pillows and blankets with their arms looped across one another. They woke a few moments after her entry and seemed confused, lost even, staring around the room with pale faces, eyes raking over each framed painting on the wall and across every bit of furniture as if it was foreign to them. “Come to breakfast,” Mrs. Macready said as she turned to go, but inside she wondered. 

For the children’s faces had held the same sadness that she saw sometimes in the Professor’s. A yearning, a shock, a numbness, as if their very hearts had been ripped from their chests.

At breakfast Lucy sat huddled between her brothers, wrapped in a shawl that was much too big for her as she warmed her hands around a mug of hot chocolate. Edmund fidgeted in his seat and kept reaching up to his hair as if to feel for something that was no longer there. Susan pushed her food idly around on her plate with her fork and hummed a strange melody under her breath. And Peter folded his hands beneath his chin and stared at the wall with eyes that seemed much too old for his face. 

It chilled Mrs. Macready to see their silence, their strangeness, when only yesterday they had been running all over the house, pounding through the halls, shouting and laughing in the bedrooms. It was as if something, something terrible and mysterious and lengthy, had occurred yesterday, but surely that could not be. 

She remarked upon it to the Professor, but he only smiled sadly at her and shook his head. “They’ll be all right,” he said, but she wasn’t so sure. 

They seemed so lost. 

Lucy disappeared into one of the rooms later that day, a room that Mrs. Macready knew was bare save for an old wardrobe of the professor’s. She couldn’t imagine what the child would want to go in there for, but children were strange and perhaps she was just playing some game. When Lucy came out again a few minutes later, sobbing and stumbling back down the hall with her hair askew, Mrs. Macready tried to console her, but Lucy found no comfort in her arms. “It wasn’t there,” she kept saying, inconsolable, and wouldn’t stop crying until her siblings came and gathered her in their arms and said in soothing voices, “Perhaps we’ll go back someday, Lu.” 

Go back where, Mrs. Macready wondered? She stepped into the room Lucy had been in later on in the evening and looked around, but there was nothing but dust and an empty space where coats used to hang in the wardrobe. The children must have taken them recently and forgotten to return them, not that it really mattered. They were so old and musty and the Professor had probably forgotten them long ago. But what could have made the child cry so? Try as she might, Mrs. Macready could find no answer, and she left the room dissatisfied and covered in dust. 

Lucy and Edmund and Peter and Susan took tea in the Professor’s room again that night, and the next, and the next, and the next. They slept in Peter and Edmund’s room, then Susan and Lucy’s, then Peter and Edmund’s again and so on, swapping every night till Mrs. Macready wondered how they could possibly get any sleep. The floor couldn’t be comfortable, but it was where she found them, morning after morning. 

Each morning they looked sadder than before, and breakfast was silent. Each afternoon Lucy went into the room with the wardrobe, carrying a little lion figurine Edmund had carved her, and came out crying a little while later. And then one day she didn’t, and went wandering in the woods and fields around the Professor’s house instead. She came back with grassy fingers and a scratch on one cheek and a crown of flowers on her head, but she seemed content. Happy, even. Mrs. Macready heard her singing to herself in a language she’d never heard before as Lucy skipped past her in the hall, leaving flower petals on the floor in her wake. Mrs. Macready couldn’t bring herself to tell the child to pick them up, and instead just left them where they were. 

More days and nights went by. One day it was Peter who went into the room with the wardrobe, bringing with him an old cloak of the Professor’s, and he was gone for quite a while. Thirty or forty minutes, Mrs. Macready would guess. When he came out, his shoulders were straighter and his chin lifted higher, but tears were dried upon his cheeks and his eyes were frightening. Noble and fierce, like the eyes of a king. The cloak still hung about his shoulders and made him seem almost like an adult. 

Peter never went into the wardrobe room again, but Susan did, a few weeks later. She took a dried flower crown inside with her and sat in there at least an hour, and when she came out her hair was so elaborately braided that Mrs. Macready wondered where on earth she had learned it. The flower crown was perched atop her head as she went back down the hall, and she walked so gracefully that she seemed to be floating on the air itself. In spite of her red eyes, she smiled, and seemed content to wander the mansion afterwards, reading or sketching or making delicate jewelry out of little pebbles and dried flowers Lucy brought her from the woods. 

More weeks went by. The children still took tea in the Professor’s study on occasion, but not as often as before. Lucy now went on her daily walks outdoors, and sometimes Peter or Susan, or both of them at once, accompanied her. Edmund stayed upstairs for the most part, reading or writing, keeping quiet and looking paler and sadder by the day. 

Finally he, too, went into the wardrobe room. 

He stayed for hours, hours upon hours. He took nothing in save for a wooden sword he had carved from a stick Lucy brought him from outside, and he didn’t come out again. The shadows lengthened across the hall and the sun sank lower in the sky and finally Mrs. Macready made herself speak quietly to Peter as the boy came out of the Professor’s study. “Your brother has been gone for hours,” she told him crisply, but she was privately alarmed, because Peter’s face shifted into panic and he disappeared upstairs without a word. 

Mrs. Macready followed him silently after around thirty minutes and pressed an ear to the door of the wardrobe room. Voices drifted from beyond. Edmund’s and Peter’s, yes, but she could also hear the soft tones of Lucy and Susan. 

“Why did he send us back?” Edmund was saying. It sounded as if he had been crying.  

Mrs. Macready couldn’t catch the answer, but when the siblings trickled out of the room an hour later, Edmund’s wooden sword was missing, and the flower crown Susan had been wearing lately was gone, and Peter no longer had his old cloak, and Lucy wasn’t carrying her lion figurine, and the four of them had clasped hands and sad, but smiling, faces. 

Mrs. Macready slipped into the room once they were gone and opened the wardrobe, and there at the bottom were the sword and the crown and the cloak and the lion. An offering of sorts, almost, or perhaps just items left there for future use, for whenever they next went into the wardrobe room.  

But they never did, and one day they were gone for good, off home, and the mansion was silent again. And it had been a long time since that morning that Mrs. Macready had found them all piled together in one bedroom, but ever since then they hadn’t quite been children, and she wanted to know why.

She climbed the steps again to the floor of the house where the old wardrobe was, and then went into the room and crossed the floor to the opposite wall. 

When she pulled the wardrobe door open, the four items the Pevensie children had left inside of it were missing. 

And just for a moment, it seemed to her that a cool gust of air brushed her face, coming from the darkness beyond where the missing coats used to hang.

[batcavescolony]

I see a lot of people upset about William Kaplan being dead and no one mourning him cus Billy stole his body and I just don't see it that way. The kid in Wanda Vision is Billy Maximoff, The teenager at the Bar Mitzvah is William Kaplan, the Teen that got taken to the hospital after the wreck is neither and both Billy Maximoff and William Kaplan. That Teen went home with the abilities of Billy Maximoff, to the home of William Kaplan, with memories of neither and lived there for three years. He cares about Rebecca and Jeff, he lied to the to protect them from pain, they are his parents. He wants to find Tommy, he has magical powers, he wants to know who he is. All of these things are true. I wouldn't say William Kaplan is dead he just doesn't remember, like Agatha wasn't dead when he was Agnes, she just didn't remember.

[anglerflsh]

I'm also unsurprisingly not immune to wanting to study the wha artstyle

[anistarrose]

the owl house has some diabolical parallels via framing of scenes but none make me cry more than plant glyph dead dad vs. light glyph dead dad. what if i was never normal about luz and her dead dads (both biological and non-biological) again

[ID from alt:

Luz drawing a plant glyph in Reaching Out

Luz and Amity watching as they send the flowers into the air with a balloon

Luz touching an inert light glyph in Watching and Dreaming

Luz watching with a tearful smile as she releases the light glyph into the wind. The scene has the exact same framing as the scene in Reaching Out.

End ID.]

[slobozan-shitposting]

Happy pride! 🏳️‍🌈

Feel free to add your girlies. These are just a small fraction of my humble collection of sapphic moments.

[oleafia-art]

some golden guards + caleb

i wanted to take a break and do some character design of a few golden guards based off of some of the ones seen briefly in canon. i also drew hunter and caleb as references for faces and stuff. i tried to make them as similar as possible, but also looking very individual to one another. since belos claimed that hunter looks the most like caleb, i tried to stay true to that while keeping the other three looking similar but not quite as identical. anyways i love them <3 they’re like the most mentally ill family ever to me

these weren’t supposed to be real ocs or anything but then i ended up giving them names and backstories and so i wrote a little about them aaaand now im obsessed. i will try to make a full body ref for them, especially alistair and/or constance, if i have time

i apologize for my godawful handwriting 💔

[juha-art]

Eioghorain's scene from the Preludes

that last ep really casts this interaction in a different light huh. (you can read the full thing here btw)

[sakurabraches]

remember when glinda forgot everything that happened in her life before coming to shiz and meeting elphaba and forgot meeting the president cuz she was focused on earlier in the week when she got to spoon elphaba

[kaiyax1]

I made a doc of every gravity falls au I could remember, here’s the link if you want to add any or if you know who made one of the au’s I didn’t know who made. gravity falls aus are my hyperfixation.

[theallianceofcelestials]

Update on the AI scrapping situation

I really wish I didn't have to make another post about this, but here we are.

The AO3 dataset, while currently unavaible on the HuggingFace website. has been made into a downloadable, still avaible Torrent file by the person who scrapped AO3

And all the others are avaible here too!

This person scrapped all of these works, whether they be drawings or writings, for AI purposes and to sell them!

The website datafish, the one these are avaible on, is based in Russia, and from what I know it's not responding to DMCAs. Despite all these datasets consisting of stolen work, so far nothing has been done against these!

This was brought to my attention by @mazois in the previous post's comment section, and I've did a little bit of further digging into this, but just know I'm not an expert in this! I'm just another scared person who's work was stolen

This dataset is still downloadable! This can still be downloaded and used by anyone who wishes for it!

Now I really hate doing these tumblr posts, mostly because I shouldn't need to, but also because I kind of feel like I'm bothering people with this, but I just want everyone to have a chance to do something about this.

Right now I don't know if the same approach will work with this one. Even enough DMCAs get filed, maybe something will get done. But I don't know. All I know is that these things are still avaible, even at least one of those that were deleted off of HuggingFace

Now I've tagged the same things as before, with a couple extra added tags, and I'll also link the last post relating to this issue here

Now, while this is a shitty situation, please do not harrass this person! Not because of the whole don't get on their level or whatever, but because it might help them get these datasets back online if they can say they've been harrassed over this! If we want something to get done about this, we must not give this person ground to push back!

Sorry to bother everyone about this again, but I wanted to share this in case someone wanted to know this.