#is from the book 'what moves the dead'

[silverskye13]

Will enby Helsknight/trans Tanguish/top surgery scars/stubborn avoidant Welsknight in a gender crisis make it into the main story of RnS? Like, a full acknowledgment of it? Because yes, us on tumblr are aware (and happily bully RnS Wels for it) but I’m curious to how it may be brought up in the main storyline instead of rambles and drabbles. (Don’t get me wrong, those rambles and drabbles are what get me through the day. But my best friend, who isn’t in the MCYT fandom whatsoever, just caught up with RnS and doesn’t use tumblr, and besides spamming her with tumblr posts I wanna know how much I can revel in the glory of the skrunkles with her!)

That is a great question, actually. And the answer is I don't really know.

So this is one of the downsides to writing things chapter by chapter. If I had gone into this going "oh heck yeah they're trans", this would've come up in the plot way sooner. It's nice information 1) for all the trans folks reading and 2) because it has the potential to inform the themes in the narrative. This whole story is about two chief things I think: death [the inevitability of] and identity [what defines you and why]. Why should you care if literally no one else (including the universe) does? That would be so cool to speak about in terms of a trans allegory! Why do you care about gender when it's just one thing in a world of crazy things? Or at the very least, how does it inform your identity? But this is a change I made on a whim suddenly, and I know Exactly Where I Want This Plot To Go, so trans topics and allegories as Plot Points probably won't happen.

On the more technical side of introducing trans characters -- how do you do that without just dropping "oh btw they're trans" in? Like, how do you make it a relevant thing to talk about, that doesn't feel forced or shoehorned in, especially this late in the story? Probably me overthinking, but I read it done wrong so often. It gets tired. And if I ever work on my original stories, there are trans characters in there! If I can figure out how to Do It Well in a fanfic, then I can figure out how to do it in original fiction someday maybe. So I kinda wanna take the introduction seriously? I've actually been thinking about it so much I've thought about rewriting the intro to the next chapter ahaha [it already needs rewritten in general, there's a lot going on, but the intro was going to be Helsknight waking up from something, and he sleeps shirtless, and not addressing top surgery scars then would be kinda silly I think.]

I can say at the very least, Gender Avoidant Wels probably won't factor in the story much. He is a character, but I don't think he'll become Enough of a character to faithfully address something like a trans self discovery arc. At best his issues with gender might be mentioned in passing.

Sorry! I know you probably want a better answer! My answer is basically: I don't know I'm still working on it. I want it to be there, but the capacity it's there is undecided.

That being said, I've been sitting on this glorious ask since the shenanigans started and the temptation to just Do That grows every time I read it:

[sylvrndoodles]

A scene from What Moves the Dead (by @tkingfisher) that has been ringing in my head since I read it ( ˙꒳​˙ )

[traeumenvonbuechern]

Which books would the Hallowoods characters read?

Happy HFTH season 4 day! I'm so excited for the new episodes, and I want to celebrate by recommending some books I think some of the main characters would love.

Diggory Graves - Unwieldy Creatures

I have a feeling that Diggory might be interested in a nonbinary Frankenstein retelling...

Percy Reed - The Spirit Bares Its Teeth

A transmasc protagonist, ghosts, a t4t love story - Percy would relate to this book so much.

Nikignik - This Is How You Lose the Time War

Even aside from the whole Bigolas Dickolas thing, I think Nikignik would really love this book. It's an epic, complicated, super emotional love story, written in a way that almost feels like poetry - I have a feeling that Nikignik would like that.

Lady Ethel Mallory - Lady Susan

It's short, it's funny, it's a classic, it's from the perspective of the villain and said villain uses the title "lady"? Lady Ethel would love this book.

Riot Maidstone - Gideon the Ninth

It's about a butch lesbian with a sword. That alone would probably convince Riot to read it, but I think she would love the story, too.

Olivier Song - Infinity Alchemist

This book is about an alchemist who is rejected by the magic school he tried so hard to get into, and one of the love interests is genderfluid - Olivier might relate to it a little too much.

Clara Martin - The Grimoire of Grave Fates

It's a murder mystery set at a magic school that moves around the world, and it's told from 18 (!) different perspectives. I think Clara would love reading about all these different types of magic and trying to solve the mystery.

Polly - Good Omens

Polly reminds me so much of Crowley sometimes - to quote this post, they're both "demons sent on a celestial audit of earth and catching more feelings than they signed up for" - so Polly would probably either love or hate Good Omens, no in-between.

Yaretzi - The Salt Grows Heavy

I can't really explain why I think Yaretzi would like this book, but she would. Something about the main character being a murderous mermaid, probably.

Mort - All Systems Red

Mort would definitely want to be friends with Murderbot.

Hector Mendoza and Jonah Duckworth - Silver in the Wood

This is my go-to "Read this if you like Our Flag Means Death" book because the main characters remind me a lot of Stede and Ed, but the book also reminds me so much of Hector and Jonah, especially with the magical sentient forest setting.

Zelda Duckworth - The Remarkable Retirement of Edna Fisher

This book is about a 83-year-old Chosen One who has to save the world armed with nothing but gumption and knitting needles - I think Zelda would enjoy that.

Mx. Morrell - What Moves the Dead

I think a fungal horror book with a nonbinary protagonist would be perfect for Mx. Morrell.

Danielle O'Hara - Pet

Pet is about a trans girl who has to reconsider everything she's been taught and save her friend with the help of a terrifying creature - everyone should read this book, but I think Danielle would especially like it.

Book titles:

Diggory Graves: Unwieldy Creatures by Addie Tsai

Percy Reed: The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White

Nikignik: This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Lady Ethel Mallory: Lady Susan by Jane Austen

Riot Maidstone: Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

Olivier Song: Infinity Alchemist by Kacen Callender

Clara Martin: The Grimoire of Grave Fates, edited by Hanna Alkaf and Margaret Owen

Polly: Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

Yaretzi: The Salt Grows Heavy by Cassandra Khaw

Mort: All Systems Red by Martha Wells

Hector Mendoza and Jonah Duckworth: Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh

Zelda Duckworth: The Remarkable Retirement of Edna Fisher by E.M. Anderson

Mx. Morrell: What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher

Danielle O'Hara: Pet by Akwaeke Emezi

[bookwyrminspiration]

sometimes I remember how the magisterium series ended and get so angry i can't even think straight

[coquelicoq]

don't touch me i am SO emotional over nishimura and kitamoto my beloveds. they started taking natsume everywhere with them because they like how his eyes light up when he experiences something for the first time. absolutely lethal.

[darkdragon768]

I'm so fucking tired of Major Character Deaths just for the Character to come back to life at the very end of the story because of uwu happy endings uwu

[noivern]

reading warriors avos made me feel like i was going insane that series is so fucking bad like theyre all kids books but that one felt like a fever dream of last minute drafts shat out the night before deadline

[zukkaoru]

it's all "must a book have a plot? is it not enough to just write about vibes?" until nathaniel hawthorne writes a 300+ page novel based entirely on haunted house vibes. then it's suddenly "too long winded" and "nothing happens" and he "took 300 pages to say something that could have been said in 40"

[tam--lin]

This is.....dang.

This is a very weak novel slate.

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

“The Second Master (Part Three),” Scarlet Spider (Vol. 2/2012), #9.

Writer: Christopher Yost; Penciler: Khoi Pham; Inkers: Tom Palmer, Chris Sotomayor, and Rick Ketcham; Colorists: Edgar Delgado, Chris Sotomayor, and Antonio Fabela; Letterer: Clayton Cowles

[anotheruntitledsong]

Me and my friend just made up a ton of really unnecessary lore for Jack Marston post rdr1

[timeandspacelord]

I will not be subscribing to Dracula Daily, solely bc my inbox is currently a wasteland of unopened emails and distress, but I will bring my copy of the book home with me and do my best to keep up once my life is a little more settled

[batboyblog]

one thing I like about Tumblr is, in 2019 I reblogged a piece of art from 2017 of a book written in 2015 and Yesterday in 2022 someone liked it, and this is how this website is supposed to work, I have art made this week in my queue next to stuff from 2014, 2013, 2012, hell even 2011, sometimes I post 10-11 year old fan art from accounts that haven't been active since before One Direction broke up. Nothing is ever truly dead and gone on here, you can always dust off an old treasure and say "hey gang look at this!" other social media isn't set up like that, if you wonder why it feels like The Batman was released 100 years ago, its because corporate media wants you to move on! go to the NEW THING! BUY! etc but hey guess what I have fan art of Battinson being emo in my queue. So if you're a fan artist, writer, gif maker, or just fan who wants to gush, guess what, here, here we're still spreading around old art, gif sets and someone will be happy you made something new in the tag

[hazelfoureyes]

The Big Part

Alastor x Virgin FemReader smut

You were dead, it was time to divest yourself of your virginity. When you ask Alastor, he takes to the task immediately. Unfortunately, he seems to enjoy surprising you.

warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader smut, Alastor dislikes getting naked, virginity does not rock, possessive Alastor, head pats, reader is an adult she’s just a nervous idiot bad at words

Horny little deer cult: @frompeach , @chirimeimei , @poppingaround , @polytheatrix , @itsmskeisha , @stygianoir , @celestial-vomit , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @amurtan

minors dni, this isn’t educational in the slightest and is just straight smut

It made sense, at the time. You didn’t want a relationship and you didn’t want to meet a stranger you couldn’t trust, that left very few people to ask. Husk would say no, and probably stop serving you drinks. Angel would most likely agree, but you were a little intimidated by his experience. That left Alastor. While you hadn’t spent much time together, your interactions were always cordial. And plus, this was hell. Isn’t this kind of situation a sinners dream come true?

For most, maybe. But you didn’t know Alastor. Not yet, not really. Everything he did had some ulterior motive. Perhaps nothing he had ever done was simply selfless. If Alastor wasn’t gaining something, Alastor wasn’t interested.

You caught him in the hallway one evening after redemption-oriented activities, deciding to get the moment over with as quickly as possible.

“It’s a favor, little… odd. But you’re the only person I have to ask.” Your eyes darted around his face, down the hall, up the walls, anywhere really but his eyes.

“I’m all ears!” Alastor tapped the microphone to the ground with a satisfying ‘thud’.

Oh— you had rehearsed this but you hadn’t prepared to be staring at that large, toothy grin. It wasn’t unsettling, it was just distracting. Would he be smiling the entire time he… ya know.

“I am,” you steepled your hands, pointing them at him, “a virgin.” You paused, hoping maybe he’d just infer the rest and you could stop talking.

His face was motionless save his eyelids rising up.

“And I don’t want to be. Anymore.” Your lips pursed together. C’mon, Alastor. Figure it out.

Alastor nodded.

You dragged your fingers down your face, “Would you help me with that?”

His head cocked to the side like a golden retriever being handed a book on ancient Egypt. Very nice offer but what exactly do I do with it?

“Help how, precisely?” He finally spoke, tone unchanged from any normal topic of discussion. Alastor watched your face scrunch up, mouth moving around words you abandoned half way through. You weren’t saying anything, just making panicked sounds. “I find annunciation most helpful when wanting to be understood, dear.”

You wanted to somersault out the nearest window. “Alastor will you take my virginity?”

“Take it where?”

You groaned, he laughed, “Just kidding, my dear! All in good fun. So, to be clear, you would like your first sexual experience to be with me?” He pointed the microphone from you to him.

You nodded, “Yes, please.”

His smile seemed to strain. Staring down at you, he tried to understand what your motivation was for this. But as he looked into your big, concerningly innocent eyes, he realized there was none. You really, simply, want him to be the first.

Ooh, as he thought it, he felt his pulse quicken in his lap. The first. A spot no one else could take. For the rest of your afterlife, he would always be the one who was first in you. A delicious thought. He could work with that.

“Are you free now?” He leaned down to your level.

“Oh. I wasn’t-,”

“Expecting immediacy? Perfect, the element of surprise has never failed me before.” His hand wrapped around your waist and drew you in to his chest, there was a rush of cold air over your skin before you felt yourself falling back.

It was soft, the room was dark, save for a small floor lamp in the corner. Your room, you realized.

“I didn’t know you knew my room number.”

“It’s my job to know everything about the hotel.” He said, tossing your shoes behind him. Was this happening now? Right now?

“I can do it, it’s, it’s fine.” You sat up and began undoing your pants. Alastor just standing there, watching. Smiling. Fuck, was it going to be this awkward the entire time? Should you say something? Touch him? You were lifting the hem of your shirt when you realized he was still fully dressed. “Are you going to take off your clothes?”

“Why would I do that?” Head lolled to the side.

You stopped mid-way through unhooking your bra, “Alastor you do know I was asking you to fuck me, right?”

He nodded. Maybe this was a mistake.

After taking off your bra, and finally your panties, you crawled to the top of your bed and drew your knees to your chest. Your feet hid your sex from view. Heart racing, but it wasn’t excitement, as you had anticipated. It was nerves. Would it hurt? Would you make a stupid face? What if he didn’t like the sounds you made? What if you regretted it after?

Alastor got on the bed on his knees, undoing his belt buckle but not his pants. The way he looked at you, your heart skipped a beat. You suddenly remembered he was called the ‘cannibal deer’ as you saw something akin to hunger in his eyes.

“What experience do you have?” His voice was suddenly low, deeper than before. This wasn’t the pun loving radio man you saw prodding the staff.

“I dated. Before. Kissing, um, I don’t know the bases. Groping?” You grimaced, it sounded so formal.

“Have you ever,” he began to slink toward you on his hands and knees, red eyes glowing in the dim light of your room, “been entered?”

Your cheeks burned, your head suddenly swayed as if it was half full of water and someone tipped you over. “Just myself, my,” you lifted your hand.

“Show me.”

All the air left the room, sucked out of your lungs and into his grin.

Uncrossing your feet, you tried to open your thighs without seperating your knees. It didn’t work, but you still managed to get a hand between your legs and to your entrance. You could have cried, you were soaking wet to an embarrassing degree. Your eyes return to Alastor, his gaze never leaving you. Even as you slipped a finger, then two, into yourself. You thought for sure he would want to watch your hands playing with your wet pussy but no, his eyes stayed on your face. Somehow, that was worse.

A shaky sigh escaped, your eyes closing as you tried to focus on relaxing around your digits.

Your head smacked against the headboard when you felt a third finger enter. Not yours. Your eyes flew back open to see him now directly in front of you.

“Two won’t do, dear.” He spun his finger around, pulling slightly at the thin skin of your entrance. “Unless you’d prefer this to hurt?”

You shook your head no, still stinging from the impact you had made. “May I?” His hand took your wrist and removing your fingers. Swiping your wetness from your ass to your clit, he coated his claw-like digits and pushed three back in. They were longer than yours, sharper. You could feel he moved gently, in and out. Your head was heavy, breath short and fast.

He laughed, bringing your consciousness fully back into the room, “Already wanting to change your mind?”

You shook your head side to side, still too embarrassed to speak, and took a grounding breath to help your body accept his fingers. He took his time, sliding in and out of you. His fingers picking up the slick and letting it lubricate your lips. It was so slow, the only pleasure for you was knowing it wasn’t your hand doing it.

But then his stretching of your hole stopped, and he grabbed both of your knees from underneath and pulled you down toward him. Now on your back, legs up and in his hands, you heard his belt slide through the loopholes, his zipper drop. You wanted to look, but you also absolutely did not want to look.

Your knees came together when you felt something hot and round at your entrance. “Ah-ah,” He opened them immediately. He reached for one of your hands, and brought it down to his cock. It was so hard under your fingers, but gave a little when you squeezed. It made him hiss.

“You tell me when to stop, little doe.” He pressed into your opening, pulled back. Pressed in, just barely making it past your lips, pulled back. He kept this pressing and pulling, head making slightly more leeway every time. Your fingers were holding right behind the tip.

“How about this, dear. I’ll just get the head in for now. Manageable!”

“Just— just get the big part in first?” You asked, the pressure at your entrance building with every shallow thrust.

He laughed, nodding as he held both of your knees further apart. When he attempted to get past the curve of his cock’s head, your hands flew down to press against his thigh, pushing back with the intrusion. Alastor stilled, sighed, and pressed his head fully in with a determined thrust. Instinctively, your feet came to his chest and tried to push away from him. It felt like you were being torn down the middle, your body forced apart at your most sensitive junction. He held you still now by the ankles, legs splayed in the air.

It burned where your walls were pushed aside. Stinging where the skin tore slightly just beneath your hole, unable to stretch.

“Breath, sweetheart.” He set your ankles down. “Does it hurt?”

You nodded.

“I’ll stay here for a bit,” he settled on his legs, looking down at where he was connected to you. Your pink little pussy looking positively overwhelmed by his cock. No one has ever been here before, and he could feel it. Your walls were pressing so hard against him his shaft was slightly curved from the force pushing his head out. You still had so much to take, there was so much more of you for him to explore. You tried to calm your breathing but your heart was racking against your sternum.

Hand reaching down again, you let your fingers count little paces from his core to yours. You knew the hardest part was over, but that didn’t bring much comfort as you felt how far you still had to go.

Alastor let his eyes wander away from your not-so-virgin cunt to your face. Your expression was twisted, not pained but clearly uncomfortable.

“How does it feel?” He asked, gesturing to your lap with a nod of his head.

“Full, so full.”

His cackle disheartened you, “Darling I am no where done filling you up.”

You clenched when he said it, earning a small groan from him. You were already too tight, when you spasmed on him it was nearly painful. There was more to do yet, more of you to claim as his. Just the tip of his cock was simply not enough.

His hips started moving again, the folds of his head pulling at the skin of your entrance but not actually crossing the barrier. He was gently rocking, barely making friction between you two. Your hand clawed at his knee, breath hitching. You let an airy moan slip, his head no longer an intrusion but something hot and melty barely rubbing your walls. It started to feel almost good.

Alastor’s cock was throbbing, his shaft touch-starved and desperate for the heat of your cunt. Your face was relaxing now, eyes blinking around new sensations. He wanted to see you experience more, more firsts and frighteningly foreign pleasures. He wanted to see you scared of how good he could make you feel. Alastor wanted you to never feel whole again without him buried balls deep in you.

“Can you take more?” His voice was like gravel, a radio static crackling in.

You met his eyes, glowing still in the dim light, wide and nearly frenzied in their dilation. His smile was practically beaming down at you.

“I don’t know.” You were scared to move forward, even though you wanted more.

“I don’t like liars.” A pop of electricity arcing at the end of his words. You pulled a pillow over your face, trying to hide from the reaction you knew he’d have as his voice made you tighten around him. “Your body says otherwise,” he hissed.

You wanted to say ‘yes’, if this could feel good then how great would all of him feel? But you were scared to vocalize it. Scared to make it start. Alastor lifted the pillow, “I need to see you, dear.” He set it beside his leg, “Do you remember what I said earlier?”

Brow furrowed, you shook your head. His grin widened to his ears as his hands slid down your thighs to your hips and he sank his cock to the hilt.

The element of surprise definitely made the nerves of saying ‘yes’ dissipate, but you were now choking on your breath, hands gripping at the blankets beneath you. Was this normal? Was he too far inside you? You felt nauseous, your guts prodded by Alastor’s member.

“How does it feel now?” He watched your eyes scanning the ceiling for an answer. You felt sure there was no way his head could leave you ever again. It was so snuggly fit in you, you feared you’d be pulled inside out. “Words, dear.”

You sat up on your elbows, sweating from the nerves of it all. “Like there’s a big stick stuck in me.”

“Accurate!” He laughed, and began pulling out. You whined, head dropping back. Almost taking himself out completely, he paused before thrusting back in. The head of his cock dragged against your walls, you could feel him with such detail. Every inch of him leaving impressions behind. Alastor could feel it too, how your soft warmth moved out of his way with every push. How pliable your womb was to his intrusions.

More. You could take more, he was positive of it.

Slowly, your moans began to get louder as the pressure faded into pleasure. Every time he bottomed out, you jumped. Every time he pulled out, you wanted to chase after him with your hips.

Watching your face soften, eyes now watery, Alastor was sure you were relaxed enough. He grabbed the pillow beside him, lifting your ass and sliding it under the small of your back. You didn’t ask, just waited to see what the point was. Dissatisfied, he grabbed another and added it under you.

Your hips were up, ass hanging over the ledge the pillows made, back bent upward. When he began to thrust again, you whinced feeling a new part of you widen for him. “Can you see me?” You looked at him when he said it, but he grabbed your hand and placed it beneath your belly button. When he pushed back in, you could feel his cock beneath your hand. Moving it, you watched your stomach bulge slightly when he was completely sheathed in you.

“Oh fuck-,” your head fell back into the bed, it was too much to feel let alone to watch, “Too deep.”

He hummed an acknowledgement, picking up his pace. “Let me see how you cum.”

Your face was hot, reluctantly bringing your hand to your clit and rubbing.

No, this wasn’t a mistake at all. If anything you regretted not asking sooner.

His thrusts now brought lightning to your core, your finger quickening in speed with the realization of just how good he could feel.

Studying your face still, he adjusted his angle until he saw the muscles in your neck tighten. He knew he found your g-spot, your moans dipping into cries.

“I can’t—,” You couldn’t get over the hump, knowing he was watching you, waiting for you.

“You can”, the lights flickered, his eyes now black with small red pupils illuminating your naked body, “and you will, my dear.” One of his hands stopped pressing finger sized bruises into your hips to instead push your own finger aside. The wide pad of his thumb took over and began thrumming you fast and hard.

That familiar build up of pleasure was stronger than you’d ever felt it, and when it finally snapped your muscles from your thighs to your toes cramped. How long had you been tensing?

You practically sobbed into the crook of your arm, Alastor’s hips slowing but still carrying you through your orgasm. They moved slower and slower, until stopping entirely. His head popped out of you, leaving you feeling hollow. Cold.

Eyes wet and blurry, you looked up at him, “Aren’t you going to finish?”

“If we do everything now, what ‘first’ will we have for tomorrow night? And the night after that?” He smiled, member already hidden away and pants buttoned. Your thighs twitched. “Same time tomorrow, little doe?”

You covered your face with both hands, and nodded.

His big hand came to your head and patted you gently, “Good girl.”

I hope you liked it 🥺 I don’t feel as confident about this one. Fun fact, my first time involved bondage. Very on brand, huh? 💖

༻Masterlist༺

Gonna start calling his dick ‘the element of surprise’. You look tired today! What happened? Oh the element of surprise kept me up all night.

[ikiprian]

Tim swears Phantom could’ve been a Titan. Maybe he should be, at this point. They have enough in common to justify it.

“Jeez,” Phantom groans. Abruptly, he drops the levitation and hits the roof without sound. He stretches out on his back like a cat, sore muscles straining in a way Red Robin deeply relates to. “Fighting the living sucks. At least with ghosts I can swing as hard as I need. Already dead means they get back up! But mortals? Way too squishy.”

Red Robin huffs in agreement. “Yeah,” he says. After a moment’s consideration, he lies down, too.“It’s a hundred times harder than people realize. Batman’s always going on about perfect control in training. About how to have it, you gotta be twice as skilled as the other guy. Even without your super-strength, I worry sometimes.”

“How do you do it?” Phantom asks. In a move only achievable to those without bones, or perhaps Dick Grayson, he twists himself over. Gloved hands cup his cheeks. His legs kick back and forth, like they’re gossiping at a slumber party. “I mean. You said you train, so obviously there’s the physical ‘how.’ But how do you keep your emotions nonlethal? How do you keep yourself in check, make sure you’re pulling back?”

“I mean,” says Red Robin. “Murder is illegal, so.”

Phantom sighs. “Yeah. Maybe it’s easier for you.”

… Hm. Maybe Red Robin should redo Phantom’s risk assessment.

Before he can raise too high an eyebrow (though even moving that muscle smarts, ow), Phantom elaborates.

“Ecto-based entities have trouble with their emotions,” he explains. “It’s easy to get lost in an Obsession, or a big feeling like grief. The rest of the world… it bleeds away. Helps to have another emotional anchor to keep it at bay. I use fear.”

“Fear?” Red Robin glanced over.

“Sometimes sheer stubbornness,” Phantom admits. “But a lot of it is fear.”

With a considering frown, he drops his head atop his arms. Exhaustion, regret, reluctance play out on his face. For someone the Bats know next to nothing about, Phantom’s body language is an open book.

“I saw, like, an alternate future version of myself once where I become evil and try to take over the world? So now I gotta be good to keep that from happening. The fear of that future keeps the pressure on me. Makes me focus up. Y’know?”

Tim sits up. “Seriously?”

Phantom nods. “Uh-huh. Kinda bizarre, I know—”

“What the hell,” says Tim. Three consecutive days together and a concussion must loosen his lips, because holy shit, no way. “Dude! Me too!”

“Huh? Seriously?” says Phantom.

“Yeah! I totally saw myself turn evil. Like, Batman but with guns. Guns Batman. I had to fight him and everything. He tried to kill my friends and erase my memory to make sure I couldn’t un-invent him by going back to change the past?”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god, me too!”

happy wips wednesday!

[colorisbyshe]

I just came across a tweet saying that Aaron Bushnell--the man who burned himself to death while yelling Free Palestine until he couldn't anymore--will be "in the history books" and that phrase has been coming up a lot. And it chafes me every time I read it, every time I hear it.

Cause, a. no, a lot of this won't be in the American history books. American atrocities, especially those overseas but even those against American people (especially American people of color), don't go in the literal history books. Or the figurative ones. Most American atrocities are wiped from the collective memory... sometimes as soon as they happen. They go unreported (like the first person to self immolate to protest this genocide), they go erased, they go whitewashed, they go falsely recontextualized, and they get twisted into pro-America sentiment--we were right for those atrocities, we were wrong for them but we learned, we didn't learn from it but we felt bad about it and should be comforted for that soreness.

And b. is harder to verbalize but I'm gonna try. It feels... performative in the literal sense. Like we only value what is happening today out of deference for how people in the future will perceive it. We aren't doing anything to change anything NOW, to care about other people NOW, but so that one day... we'll be remembered a caring. Like this man killed himself as gesture, as a move for his legacy.

And I see this phrase--"this will be remembered in the history books"--whipped out in extremely horrific contexts. A child's dead body hanging off a wall, "oh, this will be in the history books." What does that even mean? Was her death worth the historical context? Was it necessary to embellish the horror of it all?

Would the people reading these hypothetical history books not get the wrongness of the genocide without the death of a little girl that you're using as... window dressing?

It just seems so weirdly self satisfied. Like you're eager to note you just witnessed a real moment that people will remember decades from now. When... a lot of people won't which is what is so tragic. A lot of people don't even know it's happening right now.

Because, again, it's not being reported. And when it is being reported it's not being reported honestly.

I'm not saying this well but it just feels like such a gross reaction to things we're seeing in real time.

Why does it have to matter later to matter now? Why is the hypothetical reaction of a history book reader the thing you think about?

A lot of people won't live to read those "history books" because people, right now, aren't doing anything to help them.