#when i tell you this used all my brain power

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[nattinekomaid-blog]

(I apoligize i rebloged this with my NSFW side blog on accident at first)

Replace kink with trans

is there any good sentence that stars with “I’m normally pro-trans but”? If you think you can finish that sentence without spewing transphobia be my guest.

Now, if you are worried about the way people are treating people using kink as a shield then say that. You could rephrase this as

“We need to stop people who use forced femininity against trans men as a guise for their own transphobia. Even if the trans man enjoys it, if it comes from a place of transphobia that is dangerous. No one should assume any trans man is into forcefem. And no one should fantasize about a particular person without their consent. Too many transphobes are using forced feminity as a guise for wanting to hurt tans men”

And no one would be mad.

But instead you chose to say “this thing has been used to do harm, therefore anyone who likes it is icky.” Thats the regressive anti kink bullshit that is authoritarinizm creeping its way into this site under a guise you personally find acceptable.

And maybe people are just, you know, into a kink? Generalizing an entire kink as bad is not ok. Are some people doing forcefeming to trans men in a transphobic way? Definitely. Can you always tell at a glance whats in someone’s heart because they like something you think might cause harm? No.

Trans people experience forcefem and forcemasc and forcenby in a way that is unique to their gender identity. It can be especially empowering to say “i see you as a man/woman/other no matter what, but i wonder what it’d be like to try to push you to be something else in a safe place. Especially if its to explore the emotions you have towards a gender you left behind in a way you never got to.” And, you know, on top of all that trans men aren’t barred from wanting to be women. Trans women aren’t barred from wanting to be men. Gender isn’t set it and forget it, genderfluid people exist, and have been completely erased from society. My coping mechanism for a while before I realized i wanted to be a man sometimes was to want to masculinize fem people. Deep down, I really wanted someone to play with my gender and see me as a man. But the fear of being seen as a detransitioner made it easier for me to cope by projecting it onto other people who were interested in it. I started to meet more trans men and i got gender envy that people told me was just me fetishizing trans men. Most people are especially hesitant to engage in forcemasc to trans women, so I had to repress myself extra for years.

And then i couldn’t hide it. I am a trans woman and a transmasculine man and whatever else my goopy gender brain decides.

You know what else is valid? People who have a fetish for detransitioning trans people. Even if they are cis. And besides you can’t know someone’s entire identity history and future by one kink they have. If its done respectfully and consensually then you should shut the fuck up. You know what a lot of detransition is a cope for? The fact that genderfluid people aren’t allowed to fucking exist in our society. And sometimes its easier for a trans person to imagine detransitioning than being genderfluid because detransitioning is more socially acceptable. There is no fucking place in society for genderfluid people, and not everyone who is is strong enough to carve out their own life. Let people fucking cope with kinks. And stop moralizing predatory kinks as icky and victim kinks as ok. Because it takes fucking two.

Dont. Fucking. Kink. Shame. Call out harmful behavior when it happens. Kinks are not inherently institutional power, the people who abuse institutional power and call it a kink are not the same as people who just have a fucking kink.

#kink shaming

#orientation play#genderfluid#genderfluid phobia#Kink phobia

i'm normally pro-kink but if your kink is forcefemming trans guys maybe you're just a transphobe

[willyhoos]

i read a fic that changed my brain chemistry and now i can't stop thinking about a universe where amy works for eggman... and metamy ensues. naturally. you know the drill by now. also roboticized sonic theory because it makes it more deliciously potent.

DESERT ROSE: A prickly young girl with terrifying strength and a love for the finer things in life, like frilly dresses and deadly high-powered machinery. She thinks maintenance is a romantic couples activity. Not only is the "desert rose" highly poisonous, it can't really be considered a rose, can it…? However, its resilience means it could bloom even in a rusty scrapyard...

notes for the au under cut!

rose believes metal sonic when he says he is the original. he hasn't told her what happened. that he failed to save her. that he failed to save everyone. that there was a time when he was organic like she is. he just said "the other sonic is the copy" and she said "okay! let's kill him :)"

metal sonic is constantly torn between guilt and adoration at who rose has grown into. she became so much stronger. strong enough to protect herself - strong enough, even, to protect him (if he ever let her, that is. he might not be a hero any more but it's burned into his core forever that > KEEP AMY ROSE SAFE is a KEY goal.) on the other hand... he feels like he remembers someone different. a girl who loved animals and flowers and sunshine. who would give her life to protect everything she's now destroying. but his memories are so fuzzy...

i'm not so sure that amy would be big on programming and constructing machines herself, but she's always eager to "test" them... and it goes without saying she is frankly terrifying when she wants to be and is a beast on the battlefield

what a helpful young lady! im so glad i didn't just kill her!! - eggman probably.

"wait if rose calls metal sonic 'sonic' then. what does she call sonic" -> she calls him faker. copycat. knockoff. off-brand. etc. in short, she doesn't acknowledge him by name

i have the feeling that metal sonic is a bit more... enthusiastic? i guess? about his mission in this universe. it's not "ME VS. EVERYONE WHO COULD HAVE LOVED ME HAD I NOT FAILED" its "ROSE AND I VS. THEM" don't get me wrong he's furious and undead and vengeful and jealous and still insane. but. i think rose helps jog the vaguest of memories of who he used to be? unfortunately the person he used to be is a hero so i also imagine he's ever so slightly more conflicted in this universe... ("the old amy wouldn't have liked this, would the old me feel the same?")

codependence is my favorite flavor so i imagine metal really, really, REALLY appreciates having rose around. someone who is kind to him. someone who believes that he used to be more than this, and treats him like maybe he isn't worth less after all... i imagine if sonic ever tried recruiting amy, metal would go BALLISTIC. "YOU ALREADY HAVE EVERYTHING ELSE. YOU CAN'T HAVE HER TOO." she's mine -> she's my (partner) she's my (memory) she's my (friend) she's my (tether) she's my (hope) she's my (rose)

metal sonic is. (gestures) metal. and he lives in a metal box on a metal ship surrounded by metal debris. but down the hall there is a single remaining rose. and in this state she is perfectly preserved. nothing can hurt her. eggman can't hurt her if she's on his payroll, huh...?

i can't put it into words properly (and ive tried) but the idea of "killer metal robot (whose objective is to destroy natural life) falls in love with a gentle girl named rose" makes me start frothing at the mouth. just shut up. why don't you hold his hand too. and he can't FEEL it like he should . and it hurts. and it's infuriating. but he Can tell that her pulse is higher than average and the temperature of her cheeks are strangely high. and he supposes that can comfort him for now.

i feel a little "if i had to choose between the world and sonic i would choose sonic" vibe.

this took me so incredibly long so if it flops im dropping out of college.

i wanna update these designs later, these are just the beginning concepts for the au :)

[thehelltingvilleclub]

Helltingville Epilogues

Want some old men? have old men and the lonely rat bastard Captain Dickey.

From left to right:

Jerry - Mandi - Cherri (Left) - William "Buck" Titus (Right) - Bill - May - Pete - Jane - Amari (Matt's younger sister) - Josh - Matt

dude this took me too long

but man do I love all of em

Jerry and Mandi don't end up together permanently-- but they do have their kids together. I genuinely imagine Jerry ends up like Scout TF2 style as a single dad to like 4 kids but he loves them all equally and gives them all the attention he can.

And when he can't handle them all, he'll just drag Bill over and make him deal with them.

Yes, in Helltingville the gang stick together.. kind of. Like old friends that happen to live nearby-- they meet up occasionally, they keep tabs on each other online, they might even have a christmas party together, but they definitely are not hanging out regularly like they did as kids.

Jerry and May's anxiety can't take it, Josh's heart can't take it, and Bill can't take the guilt of knowing that, so its sparingly, but they'll keep in touch.

During the heavy confrontation after Comicon and after, Bill kinda.. hit rock bottom? Like if he hit rock bottom as a teenager then he hit the bottom of satan's fucking boot. Getting reemed out by Matt, disgusting looks from everyone and even his sister, seeing everyone so happy without him--

he struggles with that, and he hates it. He gets so unbelievably angry with himself for being both equally stupid and selfish. He shouldn't be upset about this! They're just stupid fake fans that don't understand him, right? then why the hell is he three bottles in and he still feels like shit?

Jerry and May keep tabs on Bill the most, checking on him and forcing him into therapy. Jerry uses him as a free babysitter, May enjoys the company when she isn't on set with Pete, and Bill isn't passed out drunk in his mom's basement.

Jane and Amari were enemies in high school, they actually hated each others GUTS. Amari was captain of the cheerleading team and Jane had her punk girl gang. And yet, in college, they managed to get together and put aside their differences. (Plus, Amari has the same infatuation problem as Matt... and her type is scrawny women that could stab a bitch, apparently).

Matt does develop a bit.. of an alcohol issue. He's so stressed from work, worried about Josh and his health, BILL being ALIVE, Bill being NEAR HIM, Bill staring at his SISTER bro his liver is crying.

Josh.. kind of knows. He can tell that Matt drinks at dinner and maybe a sip or two before bed, but He doesn't want to step out of line and make Matt upset. The last thing he wants is to upset his fiance and get yelled at again for being useless. He doesn't need to go down memory lane.

Cherri develops a vocal stim similar to Jerry, and struggles to talk otherwise and is usually hiding behind him whenever they aren't in their room. Buck, on the other hand, will not stop asking questions or shut the fuck up. this kid has enough energy to power the sun and his brain never turns off. Sorry Bill, you're gonna have to explain the entire Star Trek lore because you mentioned Star Logs and did the Vulcan Salute and now he demands to know what that is.

May works with Pete on occasion, mostly on a commission basis from Butchie. She helps make props and walks new actresses through the ropes and makes sure they're safe on set. Pete is just happy his woman's with him and you BET he brags "guys look at my girlfriend god I love her--"

And yes, they're looking to name their kiddo Sidney, but it's still a toss up. Bill says the name sounds dumb but won't help May pick any new ones to add to the list, so his opinion can get stuck in a meatgrinder.

Guys i have too much to say about them.

[aangarchy]

Anyway because avatar studios is planning a new animated series on the new earth avatar after Korra, i won't ever continue writing the story of my OC earth avatar so here's his story summed up (mind you i started writing this in 2014, after korra ended, before the kyoshi novels, i have the proof on my laptop to back this up, the manuscript's original date is 2014. so no, i did not steal the "avatar is an orphan and therefore no one knows who the avatar is" from the kyoshi novels, my work was never published, not even on fanfic websites so it is purely a coincidence my 15yr old brain came up with the same idea of FC Yee)

Main character is Shen (originally Chang but stopped liking that name in 2019) born in Ba Sing Se, dropped off the door of a non bender couple when he was two months old. Shen grows up thinking he is a non bender. The adoptive parents have one biological daughter after Shen, the father ends up being a dead beat and leaves when Shen is 9

Because his adoptive parents are non benders, they find out Shen's an earth bender embarrassingly late, when he's 14

Shen's family lives in the lower ring and can't really afford actual earth bending lessons, so they rely on their kind neighbor who is a farmer, and teaches Shen the basics

One night, Shen's mother forgets to put out a candle. Shen discovers this when he goes downstairs for some water. As he goes to snuff the candle, he realizes it grew as he got closer. He played around with the flame, and ended up holding the fire in his hands. He then runs outside to the farmland in the outer ring where he trains earthbending, where no one can see him, and firebends. This way he discovers he is the avatar at age 15

Shen keeps this a secret. He does not want to be the avatar. He fears if he reveals himself, powerful people from all around the world will try to take him away from his family, and try to push their political agenda on him. He mainly fears the Earth King, who's been causing political tension with the Northern Watertribe and Fire Nation since he inherited the throne, and has been "unifying" the Earth Kingdom whilst simultaneously taking land from the Fire Nation and Watertribe.

The absence of the avatar made these tensions worse, the king has been desperately trying to find the avatar and hasn't gotten anywhere. The Fire Nation and Watertribe think the king is incompetent and want to start the search themselves, but the king won't allow it. Even the air nomads are trying to get the king to allow them to search, but he refuses.

At age 16 Shen, his mother and sister move away from Ba Sing Se to a small harbor town in the southern Earth Kingdom. Shen starts a new school and meets a boy named Yahno, who's father hails from the Northern Watertribe, but his mother is from Republic City. He also meets Ji-min, and airnomad girl who is a descendant of avatar Aang. They moved to the town because her mother was banished from the Eastern Airtemple. At school he meets a girl named Chō, a firebender that has Earth Kingdom nationality and likes to dye her hair bright red.

The friends tell him about their classmate Uma. She was adopted, no one knows her actual birthday. She is an exceptional earthbender, which is why she believes she is the next avatar. She treats it as fact, and uses the title to hold power over others. During their first PE lessons (where benders are encouraged to train their elements) she bullies Shen about his lackluster earthbending skills

Shen and Yahno go sailing with Yahno's waterbender dad, who takes them out of the bay in the open ocean, however they are taken by surprise by a storm. Shen accidentally activates the Avatar state on instinct and saves them from drowning. Yahno and his dad vow to keep Shen's secret, as they know what the Earth King would do to get his hands on him.

The king declares a final nationwide search for the avatar. The earth king is a truth seer (Toph's ability to detect lies), he decides to use this ability because he suspects the Avatar knows their own identity and is hiding it. Shen tries to half truth his way out, but ultimately fails due to a trick the king pulled on him, making him firebend in front of everyone. Shen gets revealed to the king, and with that the world.

Firelord Kaen, who recently ascended the throne after the untimely death of his father at age 19, meets the young Avatar in secret. Shen is apprehensive, which Kaen understands. They end their conversation with mutual appreciation, since both are teenagers in position of power.

Shen starts his Avatar training. When he enters the spirit world through Republic City's portal for the first time he finally meets Korra, and she has to sheepishly admit to Shen that she'll be his only guide. There's no connection to any of the other past lives due to the new cycle.

Shen has the most trouble learning waterbending. He doesn't know how to let his emotions flow like water, which is blocking him from getting a true feeling for the element. He masters earth, fire and air relatively quickly, but water refuses to budge for him.

This is about as far as I got writing wise. In the second half of the story a time skip was planned so Shen would be a young adult instead of a teen. He'd get badly hurt during an assassination attempt at age 18 (airship he was on got blown up) and go missing for five years making people believe he's dead and thus reborn in the firenation. He joins a pirate crew bc he has amnesia after getting badly wounded, but once he regains his memory as he's healed he keeps his identity secret again. That is until he literally sees the earth king attack the fire nation and he reveals himself to his pirate friends and contacts his old friends to take down the earth king. Also a romance of sorts would develop between Shen and Kaen (which is another reason for the timeskip lol like an 18yr old and a 21yr old sounds weirder than a 23yr old and a 26yr old idk) then i'd explore the complications of an Avatar, who's supposed to be neutral and unbiased, falling in love with a leader of one of the four nations.

Either way i was never gonna finish this story anyway bc i suck at thinking of complex political plotlines and problems for the avatar to solve to include in my story lmao. I do have some chapters that are finished writing wise but they're not in order bc I'm the type of writer that just writes the chapter they want to write without caring where it takes place in the story, which admittedly isn't a great strategy but eh it's not like I'm a published writer, it's mostly for my own enjoyment

[whoops-all-jennas]

Past Lives pt. 10

Wednesday x witch!reader

"I've got this strangest feeling."

"This isn't our first time around."

Summary: You and Wednesday try to prevent the Hyde from stealing the mayor's body.

Warning: Descriptions of blood and injury, specifically cut injuries

I find myself staring out my window, the pitter patter of raindrops being the only sound besides my thoughts.

Wednesday told me the mayor was investigating the Gates Mansion yesterday when she was there. He was on the way to tell the sheriff something before he was hit by a car.

Of course, someone discovers too much and they get killed.

My thoughts are interrupted by Wednesday opening the door. "Hey Wednesday, the funeral was faster than I imagined."

Wednesday puts her umbrella up before looking back at me. "Whenever the dirt hits the coffin I'm gone."

Wednesday takes a few steps towards me. "Tonight we'll stake his grave. They will pay for what they did to Eugene."

I find myself dazed under her statement, my heart rate accelerating at the thought of having to use the death curse on anyone or anything. I push back my anxiety, forcing a nod in response.

"We need to talk about the books they stole from us Wednesday."

Wednesday is silent for a moment. "What is there to talk about?"

I sigh, a bit of my stress carried in my air. "More specifically, the book of curses. If they can perform magic we're in serious danger with that book. That is if they haven't memorized some of the spells from it already."

"We'll deal with this before it's an issue." Wednesday states, naively. "What spells should we look out for from the book?"

I sigh again, looking at the ground. "First there's the spell you told me study, the death curse. That one's kinda self explanatory."

I look up to find Wednesday's eager eyes on me, thirsty for more information. "Next one is the imperious curse, it makes the caster in total control of whomever the spell was cast upon. Some times, if the will power of the castee is strong enough they can fight back the curse. Which is where this last curse comes in."

I'm silent for a moment, the anxiety of the power the enemy now holds settling in further. "Lastly, the torture curse. This one is also self explanatory, it causes an excruciating pain all over the castee. It's also used on people under the imperious curse to attempt to destroy their will."

Wednesday looks to the side, letting the information sink into her brain. Her eyes soon find mine again. "We won't give them a chance to perform these spells."

She looks at me with confidence and reassurance in her eyes. "Tonight, we'll end this."

I look down from Wednesday's eyes to find the necklace I gave her around her neck.

"There's someone else we have to deal with before tonight." I say, meeting her eyes again.

The sun is beginning to go beyond the horizon. My fist meets the wood on Xavier's door, soon met by Xavier on the other side.

"Hey Y/n, what's up?" Xavier gives me a slightly anxious look.

"Hey, uh. Can I come in?"

He stares dumbfounded for a minute. "Oh, yeah! Sure." Xavier takes a step back, giving me space to walk past him before closing the door. "Did you think about my apology?"

I'm silent for a moment, finding a seat on Xavier's bed. "I haven't come to a conclusion yet." My eyes meet Xavier's.

"So, why'd you come here then?"

I take a deep breath. "Wednesday and I want to ask you a couple questions about your latest vision."

Xavier looks to the ground for a moment. "I uh, yeah I can do that. Where's Wednesday?"

"We want to discuss it at your art studio if that's alright" I ask, my voice shaky.

Xavier examines my state for a moment. "Are you okay?"

I quickly nod. "I've just been anxious about why I've been banned from leaving the school." I lie through my teeth. "Wednesday is waiting for us at your art studio."

Xavier examines me one more time, his eyes looking me up and down. "Shouldn't keep her waiting I guess."

Xavier opens the door to his art studio to find Wednesday set up a chair and cooler full of a random assortment of snacks and drinks.

Xavier quickly turns around, confusion in his voice. "Y/n whats-"

"I'm sorry, Xavier." I pull out my wand, pointing it at him. "Stupefy."

A red light emits from my wand, the projectile hitting Xavier in the torso. He falls backwards in the art studio unconscious.

I sigh while putting the wand away. "Let's get this over with."

Wednesday and I struggle to drag his lanky body fully inside the art studio, leaving the light on as we lock him inside.

Wednesday and I are hiding behind two different tombstones. I look at my watch, reading the time is 12:30. My heart rates accelerates as the time comes closer, having lost slight control of my breathing.

The chirping of crickets fill the air, soon gone silent in the presence of vicious footsteps entering the cemetery.

Wednesday looks at me expectingly. I stand, my legs shaking as I reach for my wand with a trembling hand.

I'm a good 20-30 feet behind the Hyde, it's already digging in front of the mayor's fresh grave. It flings the dirt behind him, landing near my feet. The fog met with the light of the full moon creates an ominous atmosphere.

I point my wand at it, unable to keep my wand steady.

I go to shout at it, my voice restricting itself along with my airway.

More dirt flies by my feet, soon followed by Wednesday's voice. "What are you doing?!"

The sound of scratching on wood fills the air. The Hyde turns around to find me standing there, pointing my trembling wand at him.

My vision starts to get blurry as my eyes become glossy. Why can't I do it? "I- I-" My voice is trembling with anxiety.

"A- avada. A-a-" I find the incantation impossible to utter, a tear streaming down my face.

The Hyde starts to ignore me, the cracking of wood filling the chilled air as it breaks through the casket.

"Y/n! Do it!" I hear Wednesday shout, muffled by my thoughts.

The Hyde pulls the mayor's body from the grave, looking at me one more time before turning away to run. The sound of his footsteps fading as the crickets return.

I tightly grasp my wand in both of my hands, bringing it close to my chest, feeling the anxious beat of my heart worsen. "I couldn't do it." I utter quietly to myself, looking at the now comfortable looking ground.

Wednesday quickly stands, running to me. "Y/n what happened."

Her steps slow down as I drop down to my knees, my sobs taking dominance over the chirping of the crickets.

"Y/n?" Wednesday asks in a worried tone.

"I couldn't do it." I say between sobs, the tears meeting at my chin before dripping to find my trembling hands. "It hurt so many people, and I couldn't do it."

Wednesday is silent for a moment, finding her way in front of me. She's looking down upon me. "I'm sorry Y/n, I shouldn't have ask-"

"Why couldn't I do it?!" I my neck straining from suddenly looking up to see her face, my voice trembling between the sobs. "Why, I don't-" I find myself lost for words.

Wednesday kneels before me, putting her hands on my clenched ones. She slowly pulls my hands away from my chest, resting them on my legs. "Do you remember when we first met?"

I find myself silent, returning to reality at the sound of Wednesday's stoic yet comforting voice. "You healed a small cut on my forehead, even though you never met me."

Wednesday gently prys at my tightened grip around my wand, starting with my index finger. "And then in the woods, when you saved Eugene's life."

My brain remembers that night vividly at the mention of him. Wednesday is now prying at my ring and pinky fingers.

"If it wasn't for you, he likely would have died." The sound of my wand landing on the dirt reaches my ears, as Wednesday loosened my grip.

Wednesday stares at my red hands, tense from gripping the wand so tightly. "It's your hands, they're not meant to kill."

I find the tears rekindling, my red puffy eyes tensely closing.

"They're meant to give life. I'm sorry I asked you to do this"

I find the sobs uncontrollable, practically shouting into the wind as Wednesday grabs my hands. I throw my head into her chest, met with her arms moving to hold me comfortingly.

I wake up on the ground of my art studio, my head throbbing. I sit up, resting my head on my hand. "Ugh, what the."

I soon stand, wobbling back and forth trying to restabilize my footing. I nearly fall as I approach the door, finding it locked on the other side.

"You can't be serious." I utter to myself, pulling my phone out. I scroll through my contacts before finding Bianca. I stare at the icon I set of her for a second before calling.

"What do you want?" I'm instantly greeted with Bianca's remark.

I take a deep breath. "Y/n snuck out."

"What?! Where to?!" Bianca asks, worried about how Weems is going to act.

I find myself staring at the painting. "I have an idea. I think we should tell Weems, she'll know what-"

"I think you're insane." Bianca overly announces the I. "If she knows we failed, she'll personally disband the Nightshades."

"I think whatever reason Weems is trying to keep Y/n on school grounds is probably more important than our roof parties and virgin drinks." I state sarcastically.

Bianca takes a deep breath, pausing for a moment. "Where are you now?"

I hold Y/n close, her tears running dry. "Are you ready?"

You nod, grabbing your wand off the ground before standing.

"I hope I'm not interrupting your date."

Y/n and I turn towards the voice to find Tyler at the entrance of the cemetery. You rub your eyes in an attempt to wipe any forgotten tears.

I see an opportunity to make something useful out of tonight. "Tyler, we need you to take us to the Gate's Mansion."

I find you standing next to me with a new found courage at my words.

Tyler looks at us for a moment, biting his tongue as he weighs his options. He sighs. "That wasn't really a request was it?"

We start to walk towards him till we're a few feet in front of him. "Where's your car?"

The engine cuts off, parking in front of the Gate's Mansion.

We all get out of the car simultaneously, approaching the garage door.

You pulled out your wand, making a circular motion with your wrist as you point it at the doorknob. "Alohamora."

You went to turn the knob, met with rattling. "It's stuck."

I approach from behind, You give me space as I try to force the door open. The door doesn't budge.

"Let me try." Tyler states, before shaking the door with full force. Still nothing.

"We'll probably have to find a different way in." He says, as you pull your wand back out.

"Step back." You point your wand at the door as we follow your demand.

"Bombarda!" You shout, met with a loud explosion on the door, forcing it open. You walk inside with Tyler and I following behind you.

I take the tarp off the car in the garage. "This is the car that hit the mayor." I state flatly.

"This just took a dark turn." Tyler says, looking between both of us for a moment. "I didn't sign up for this."

"Feel free to wait in the car." I state, before heading to the door that leads inside the house.

You have your wand emitting a light from the end to light the hallway. The house is decorated with cobwebs and dust, the only other light being the pale moonlight of the full moon through the dirty windows. "This is the night I'm gonna die." Tyler says as we find our way to our first room to investigate.

We end up in the study. The room lacks any windows and is decorated with animal head mounts on the walls, cobwebs between the antlers of the deer heads.

I find my way to the bookshelf, inspecting every inch under my flashlight for any sign of disturbance over the dust. I point the flashlight up to notice a square design at the top of the bookshelf is clean.

I push the design, it caves inward with the sound of gears shifting. The noise of wood scratching against the floor fills the room as a hidden door is opened.

Behind the bookshelf reveals a shrine dedicated to Joseph Crackstone. Next to the painting of him it says in red text on the wall.

THE MOON WILL BLEED

WHEN I RISE

Y/n and I make eye contact for a moment with Tyler behind us. "Who doesn't have a family alter in their study?" Tyler says sarcastically.

"Ours is in the living room." I say before touching the wick of a candle. "It's still warm."

I find a necklace in front of the painting. I grab it, instantly met with the feeling of electricity coursing through my veins. You catch me as I fall back, entering a vision.

I find myself on the soft grass within an old cemetery. The full moon lighting the scene. There are people in pilgrim attire and masks surrounding a casket with some sort of runic marks on the floor surrounding it.

I look to the side to find Elsie hanging on a hook by the rope tied around her wrists. Her white hair flowing in the wind.

The figures start to place jars of body parts on top of the runic symbols until all the runic marks are covered.

"Draw her blood." One of the masked figures state. Another one unsheathes a dagger before approaching Elsie's vulnerable figure.

"Please don't-" I hear her cries, unable to do anything. The man grabs her legs, sliding a big cut across it. Her blood streaks down her leg, staining her clothes.

"Stop, please!" Elsie cries through her winces of pain.

He lifts the dagger, before starting another cut down her other leg.

She releases a bloodcurdling scream, unable to contain her pain anymore. Crows flock at the sudden exclamation.

One of the figures grabs a cloth, wrapping it around her mouth muzzling her. "It'll be easier if you bite." He says.

The man with the dagger has now given her multiple cuts on her legs, the blood pooling to her bare feet. The blood trickles to a bucket beneath her.

He draws the dagger to her arms next, gliding the dagger across her skin. Elsie's screams of pain are muffled by the cloth in her mouth, drenched in her saliva.

After cutting on both arms equally, the blood staining her white bed dress, he leaves one more cut on her arm as the pale light of the moon shifts into an ominous deep red.

The light illuminates the foggy graveyard, giving everything a blood red glow. The runic symbols begin to glow a pale blue, contrasting the moon. All the figures stand around the casket as a black fog emanates from it.

It suddenly makes sense to me why Weems wanted to keep you protected on school grounds. Fear fills my body as the vision continues.

Goody runs into the graveyard, quickly but quietly approaching Elsie. She grabs her by the waist, lifting the rope tied around her wrists off the hook, causing Elsie to collapse onto her as Goody struggles to run under her weight.

Goody runs past me, carrying Elsie over her shoulder, her blood staining Goody's clothes. I look back to the casket to see a figure I recognize on the other side of the fog. If the Hyde and their master succeed, it won't be Joseph's first time coming back from the dead.

I soon turn around to follow Goody and Elsie. After a few minutes of running they go inside a building, placing her on a bed.

Goody pulls out her wand, interrupted by Elsie holding out a necklace. Her blood trickles down the chain. "I- I want you to take this." Goody slowly grabs the necklace by the talisman attached to it, the chain slipping out of Elsie's grasp.

The talisman is decorated with black tourmaline against the silver of the rest of the talisman. A shield is inscribed in the reflective metal.

"It is a protection talisman, enchanted and given to me by my parents." Elsie says, her voice strained from her screams. Goody holds the talisman tightly in her hand before putting it over her head. She hovers her wand over the edge of one of Elsie's wounds, guiding her wand across it.

I open my eyes to the carpet of the study in the Gates Mansion. I quickly stand. "We need to leave." I look around only to find Tyler in the room.

"Where's Y/n?" I ask, fear in my voice. I put the Elsie's protection talisman around my neck.

"She went to investigate the rest of the house." He says calmly, in contrast to my panicked state.

I rush outside of the confined room to find the pale moonlight from before replaced with the harsh deep red I saw in my vision. I rush to the window to confirm what I'm seeing, finding the moon to be an unnatural red.

I turn my head to the noise of an engine of a car turning on from the garage. "Wednesday what's going on?" I hear Tyler frantically follow me.

"Y/n's in danger." I state flatly, trying to control my emotions.

I run outside, slamming the door open, to find the blue car that hit the mayor screeching past the gate of the mansion.

My eyes are stuck on the silhouette of the car as it makes more distance.

Tyler runs past me to his car, stopping in front of the driver seat. "Are we following them or not?"

His voice brings me out of my daze, running to go into the passenger seat. The sound of Tyler's engine fills the car as he twists the ignition.

His wheels kick up dirt as Tyler presses on the gas. After the car stabilizes, we quickly catch up to the blue car.

Fear and worry find shelter in my eyes as I stare at the car in front of us, reflecting the ominous light drawn from the blood moon.

Part 11.

Past Lives Masterlist

a/n: hoho things are happening. one of the moments in this part is heavily inspired off of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood. Idk if it's just me, but my writing feels kinda off in this part? I can't place it, so sorry if the writing is weird.

taglist

@oishiiiz @jessiemariano21494

[historygirlie]

I am really intrigued in the way you draw the Greek gods. You have some sort of unique style that catches my eye! Like from what I have noticed from your art is that you have really changeable clothing for each one. Like Apollo’s dressing changes from one type to another keeping the original design though. Also am I delusional or do Hermes and Apollo have the same necklaces (like they both have necklaces with waves in them?)? And if I am being correct Apollo has wings too? Why did you choose to do that so? Also in your two pieces drawing for the Ithaca saga realise didn’t Telemachus, Odysseus and Penelope have the same bracelets and if my brain is working isn’t Telemachus’ dressing colour the mix between Penelope’s light purple and Odysseus blue? I went in such a deep rant I love your art!

HOLY MOLY THATS SOME DEEP ANALYSIS THERE HUN!! I never thought someone would look in so deep to my work I am honoured 😭😭. As for answering your questions yes you are correct the designs for the gods’ clothing does change and that depends on what are they doing and who they are meeting. So like the most obvious design I have right now is Hermes. In this picture:

(which is totally epic) he is dressed in a mission so like he has a job to do as a messenger god. (Also bro trusts his skirt WAYYYY too much)

Yet in my more casual designs like when he meets Ody (or when he is twerking in that animation I posted) he is dressed simpler to emphasise that he has a more close to humans side like in the case of the design I did:

As for the necklaces yes it is true Hermes and Apollo have the same ones. They matched and in fact the story for that is a bit interesting. I though that since Hermes tried to steal Apollo’s cattle, Apollo made Hermes swear to not try and trick him and so they have the necklaces so they do not lie to one another (yet Hermes finds a way to twist the truth EVERY time). The earrings in the meantime are something every god has (it depends then on their preferences to keep them or not). The same goes for the tattoos (they are basically carved to their skin so each time they use powers they show). Hermes has snake tattoos, Apollo has like little arrows. Usually it is their respective animals that decide that.

Apollo’s wings on the other side symbolise his sacred animal: the crow. They seem white but in the dark they are actually black. Hermes has wings since…he has to fly man. Apollo’s wings are smaller than Hermes and one of them is actually half ripped out.in a drawing I did his wings are like they were in the beginning before they were ripped out from a reason I won’t tell y’all 😈. (I’d like to see ur theories for it). Oh and also one of Apollo’s suns in the halo he has is actually broken. Again y’all can theorise.

As for the two part drawing I did yes the bracelets and the clothes were intentional. The bracelets were to show the family had something that unified them and made them a family. Odysseus though doesnt have his anymore though since yeah the trip was bad. And the colours of their clothes are as you said mixing together. Also a detail in the second drawing is that all of their clothing’s colours are darker symbolising growth and maturing, also pain and suffering of being torn apart.

ANYWAYSSSSSS I yapped a lot but I hope I answered all your questions!

[wildsaltair]

HOT HOT HOT HOT SUPER HOT HOT HOTTTTT

[cryolyst]

~

[todayisafridaynight]

would it be okay if u told me why u like aoki😭/gen😭😭😭😭BEEN TRYNA LIKE HIM FOR SO LONG I JUST CANTT but i love ur art so much so i still consume it otherwise lol

i liked tohru adachi in high school and tbh i think that alone is enough of an explanation for why i ended up liking aoki

[underwhelmingalchemist]

Starting pride month with the pharmacy denying me my testosterone prescription until mid-June and my doctor saying she can't do anything about it because it's a controlled substance 🙃✌️

[rainingincale]

Why is being a living exisiting human being so very confusing 🙃

[mortalityplays]

This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.

e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.

I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.

This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.

And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.

[asmodeusamaryllis]

G3nshin players never beating the not playing the game allegations

[neverendingford]

.

[tapakah0]

(Continuation because I don't trust tumblr tags) #Oscar... pointing at her neck with the weapon like this... *sigh* eather he is a very good actor or can adapt very quickly #TRUST POINTS FROM ECLIPTICA HELL FEGEFJEGJEYGWYGWD #HE JUST WANTED TO HELP #THE PREVIOUS NEVER WANTED TO HELP AND WE EAT THEM AHAHAGGASHGSA FUNNY YEAH? # *cough* Ma'am... take room... you seem to enjoy his physical company... #OH WHAT AN OFFER HUH #YEHA HDFEMFAWHGDMA MAXAZAANABA I KNEW HE GUESSED THAT WARD IS NOT COMING BACK AHAHGAHGAAHGSA DEAR SCULPTOR YOU F***ED UP YOU TOOK THE SMARTER ONE IN THE BASIC WAY BUT WE HAVE A SOCIALLY SMARTER ONE AND THIIIIIIS IS A REAL DISASTER AHGADHGDHDGHGHAGSDH #DEAR OSCAR CONGRATS YOU ARE *SHAKING HIM* YOU EVIL DEVIL LITTLE DEMON WITH ONE BRAIN CELL THAT HAS 1000 BRAINCELLS ITSELF AND ALL OF THEM ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR TACTICS AND SOCIAL NEGOTIATION

Part 11 ‘-‘

I have a feeling Shepherd and Ward would get along really well... you know, if you put them in the au where everything is the same, but there is peace and harmony in the whole galaxy

Previous

Masterpost