#This was never about the gore

[30s-radio-alter]

Alastor here once again here to call out a bit of a problem with my source's fanbase.

Tag your fucking potentially triggering art.

This isn't a request. Honestly it is against tos to not properly tag gore for example. Do better hazbin hotel fans.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

What if instead of threatening to take Ford's eyes, Bill just took Fiddleford's?

Tate still remembered the night his father's sight was taken from him.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

He felt the storm coming even before the first lightning struck. From the very moment he opened his eyes that morning until the very moment he lay back down to bed, he could feel a vicious tension brewing in the otherwise serene household.

Storms were very uncommon at Tate's house, and on the rare occasions they did arrive, they never stayed for long.

Yet, after a quiet breakfast full of anxious, unmet glances and clattering cutlery that rang far too loudly in the silence of the table, he knew that this storm was going to be unlike any other storm he'd witnessed before.

A prickling, disquieting static seemed to have made itself at home underneath his skin, that day. It had made every hair on his body stand on end, and an odd stinging sensation to dance across his spine and tongue; an uncomfortable urge to duck and take cover low on the ground nearly overwhelming his every sense. It was like waiting for the shattering thunderclap to sound after the sky turned white with a blinding flash of light. He knew what was coming, and the anticipation was unbearable.

His mother and father had acted as though nothing was wrong; as though they didn't feel the looming presence of the darkening clouds growing like a murky gray forest on the ceiling.

He hadn't been able to fathom at the time how adults could seem so all-knowing, and yet simultaneously be so utterly clueless about the very obvious happenings that surrounded them. Now, though, he just found it strange how adults often tend to assume children don't feel the stifling weight that they hung around themselves; as if children didn't breathe the same bitter choked air as their parents did. It wasn't even as though they did a very good job at pretending; his parents always were terrible liars.

When the lightning finally struck, it set the house ablaze.

He heard the thunder from his room, and felt the crackling heat crawl up the stairs and seep through the gap beneath his door. He'd laid in his bed, hand clasped nervously across his chest and looking up at his room's cloudy, weeping ceiling as a cacophonic explosion of noises came bursting from the living room downstairs. The fight had erupted with such unprecedented force that in Tate's young mind, he'd felt genuine fear of the house collapsing atop them all from the sheer force of the yelling.

The smell of burnt tongues gently wafted through the air, and Tate briefly wondered if it hurt his parents when they scorched their mouths with such scalding words just as much as it hurt for him to hear it.

It was a big fight; a terrible, big fight; so loud, and so very angry, and helpless, and desperate, and betrayed, and sad.

The back and forth screeching seemed endless, and eventually the screaming words began to muddle and merge into one another until they hardly even sounded human anymore. Suddenly there were animals wailing in the living room downstairs, and Tate could do nothing but listen helplessly and grip his interlocked fingers tighter; hoping that if he stayed still enough, then the growling beasts that were shattering plates downstairs wouldn't come upstairs.

But then,

then,

something changed.

The shift was all too sudden; too abrupt; too quick even for the usually sharp witted child to catch on, and before he knew it, the screams of anger suddenly shifted into one of pure, unadulterated horror.

"Fiddleford, your eyes- good lord, your eyes! Let me look at them!" "Don't touch me! I- I must call Stanford, he's done something to me. Him and that demon, they've cursed me." "For Heaven's sake! Please, forget about that damned Stanford of yours for one moment and listen to yourself! My husband's gone mad, mad!"

And suddenly his parents were human again.

Tate was restless in his bed as his heart seemed to beat bruises against his ribs, his sweaty fingers digging crescent shaped grooves into his skin as fear enclosed its frigid claws around his throat in a vice-like grip. He couldn't breathe.

The storm was over, and it should have reassured him, and yet he was anything but.

Curiosity and fear had been what forced him to kick the sheets off himself and creep his way down the rickety wooden steps. He had to know what happened, he had to know what damage the storm had caused, he had to know.

His steps were far from quiet, and the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet hardly did him any favors, but no one answered the calls of the squeaking wood. No one came peeking out from the living room to stop the obviously sneaking presence that was tip toeing through the halls; No one called out to check on their little child; all was silent, and calm, except for his mother's soft sobbing coming from the kitchen.

When Tate eventually found his father, he saw

devastation.

The storm had been merciless. It had left nothing behind but a shuddering husk of a man. His father was shaking like a leaf, shoulders tense and back hunched over as though bowed by an incredible burden. The telephone receiver was held in his hand like a lifeline; as if it was the only thing in the world that was keeping him tethered to sanity, and somehow, Tate didn't doubt that it was.

Curled up on the floor in the dark, muttering and trembling, he dared say his father looked... small.

It almost felt surreal to see his father in such a state, like witnessing a God collapse, or a star's light dim to nothingness. His father had always been a solid, permanent pillar sho seemed able to hold up the whole world on his shoulders, and still stand tall and proud despite the weight.

And yet, the crumbling remains of a once impermeable monolith now lay scattered across the hallway floor and splattered across the walls.

The sight had scared him.

At the time, Tate hadn't known what had happened. Even to this day, he still wasn't too sure he understood what exactly had taken place in that living room for his father to have so sudddenly gone from seeing to blind in the matter of seconds.

His mother had tried, in vain, to explain it to him later, to try and make him understand when he was eventually old enough to hear the gruesome tale; but still, he struggled to fully wrap his head around it.

"It was as though his eyes just sunk into his skull," his mother had recounted to him with a haunted look in her eyes. "They suddenly just vanished into the empty sockets of his face, like someone pulled them out from inside his head. There was no blood, no resistance, no tearing. It was as if his eyes were simply plucked out of sight by some invisible hand."

There had been blood on the walls when he had found father back then, a long trail of gorey wet red smeared all across the lovely yellow wallpaper. He realized only now, recalling the memory, that the blood back then had not been from his father's eyes, but from the deep gouges he had dug into his face with his nails, his searching fingers desperately looking for eyes that weren't there beneath his empty eyelids.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

Tate had never heard his father's voice sound so raw, so afraid. It was so unlike the familiar comforting drawl he'd grown to love and recognize, it almost sounded alien, coming from his father.

"I can't see, Stanford, I can't- my eyes, they're gone. Why are they gone? What have you done?" "Answer me, damnit, what have you done?"

His father never got his answer, because whoever was on the other side of the line soon hung up, and his father was suddenly left blind and alone.

[sawthoone]

“breathe to me while i hold you close the secret of the murmuring i envy.” (close up under cut)

[blabberoo]

Driftcells animatic :)

[nadirising]

Everything is fine and going according to plan :)

[fungh0u1]

only a sick man would take pictures of corpses!

[arttsuka]

what’s the bad ending to mer-fidd?

Getting cannibalised by Bill probably

[ivyithink]

all vampires are born out of trauma

[anaphoraholic]

antishippers will see the word lolicon in a post and spam actual CSEM in the replies.. "im protecting fandom from pedophiles!!1!" my brother in christ you ARE the pedophile!!

[technovillain]

and this guy is the most normal dentist i know.

[halflifebutawesome]

you used to be such a baby.

[shinyobservationtree]

[shortbreadly]

the sun is gone, but i have a light

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 192

a break from artfight for some good news! i have finally scheduled a surgical consult to have my enemy (read: uterus) removed. this is a bit of a scarier prospect than my breast reduction was, but i think it will be an equally impactful quality of life improvement when all is said and done!!

anyway those of yall who have been here since the beginning may remember me posting through that whole process so i figure why stop now.

[florbe-triz]

Litchi ☆ Hikari Club

[felonytaxevasion]

Can I hear more about the worm vs the boys please if you want to expand on it on tumblr? I love worm and I don’t really like the boys and I can't quite explain to myself why

Yea absolutely! Im sure there's some other Wormblr posts out there that go into this in more depth but I can paraphrase what I was saying to my friends.

We were mainly discussing the concept of "edginess" and excessive anger, violence, and shock value in media and I brought up Worm and The Boys as examples so that I could sort of warn my friend about the tone of Pact without directly spoiling anything. My main thesis is that Worm is incredibly super duper edgy, however it doesn't come across as nihilistic and misanthropic like The Boys does.

I feel as though too often The Boys is usually taking the stance of "well humans suck so if you gave humans superpowers they would find unique ways to suck and the only thing separating normal people from monsters is power. So no one should have power" which I don't inherently disagree with to an extent. It's an exaggerated critique of capitalism and celebrity. But it's also such a gross way to look at humans/the nature of humanity.

Contrast with Worm that says "bad people with superpowers will use their powers to do uniquely horrible things. But good people with superpowers will also be out there doing uniquely and incredibly good things for the benefit of humanity. Every human as the potential for abhorrent cruelty. But it is just as true that those same humans all have the potential to do good."

I think it's really important that the two final and most major antagonists in Worm are motivated by nihilism and hatred of humans. Jack Slash and Scion both have the philosophy of "Humans are cruel. The parts of humanity that are good are losing out to cruelty. Why try and fight it. It's easier to just kill everyone". Contrast Taylor who, I'm 99% sure, never for a second questions if humanity is worth saving. Everyone around her in Gold Morning says "there's nothing we can do so we should at least die happy" and Taylor says "I cannot die happy unless I spend every second of my last day fighting for the miniscule chance to save humanity from extinction". Taylor and the fucking insane lengths she will go to save humans when she doesn't even like them all that much is the heart of Worm. (And like don't get me wrong worm is also about Taylor fucking failing to not partake in human cruelty at basically every opportunity. Quite possibly the worst anyone's ever done it. But that doesn't change the fact that she is trying and in the doing is pushing the audience to try as well)

And on the other hand I think the attitude of The Boys kind of just IS Jack Slashs. I honestly cannot even fathom what the take away is meant to be beyond "people are fuuucked up dude". If I wanted to be especially cruel I would say that I think a large majority of fan base for The Boys was generated on the basis of shock value and the incredibly strong performances from the cast. It's easy to get in to season 1 because it presents a horrible world with no redeeming qualities but you can assume in later seasons "they're gonna figure it out! Good will win out! Or at least good will lose for reasons that connect with the audience and make it a tragedy" but three seasons later theyre floundering to find a message and a reason people should care about the world and it's characters.

At the end of the day TLDR I think worm works because it has something to say and uses edge to support the thesis. The Boys exists more as a framework to explore cruelty in fiction and I just don't think it has a lot to say outside of that.