Anonymous looked up at the sky, not trusting the colour smeared upon the horizon. Horizons could be misleading, they knew. Horizons could convince you it was still daylight, even when the whole of the sky arced above you in a sprawl of midnight. Looking forward was not always enough. Sometimes, you had to look up.
Directly above Anonymous, the moon cut its teeth into the clouds, drawing blood and bruising the darkness with its waxen light, waning at the edges. It was time.
They did not have long. The witch had told them, as she reluctantly handed them the bag of herbs, that the spell would only be useful for the minute or so that the moon was at its highest. The minute was upon them.
Fifty five seconds left.
Cursing themself for having lost track of time, Anonymous reached into their trouser pocket and pulled out the little drawstring bag. With hands shaking in anticipation, they emptied the contents into the small well they’d dug into the earth all those hours ago, and covered it back over with dirt. Fingers crossed behind their back, they stepped away and waited.
It did not happen immediately. Magic takes time, the witch had said. Magic does not come to you when you ask for it; it comes to you when it’s good and ready. You can cast all the spells you like, scatter all the herbs and make all the offerings, but magic cannot be summoned – only tempted.
The seconds ticked by, and Anonymous waited.
This had been a long time coming, they reflected. They had waited too long for the taste of power on their lips. They had been too long distant from how it felt to be in control. They had learnt too early their place in the world, and they had too soon come to rue it. The chasm between want and have had grown inexorably bigger since the day they were born, and now they were here.
The mound of earth did not move. Anonymous thought about the time they had first felt insignificant – the first time they had realised that they stood small in the face of all things – and counted the seconds.
With ten seconds left before the spell died, the magic came.
Magic has no face, has no body. It takes no form and it holds no weight. The witch had told Anonymous this herself. Magic simply is; it is because no other word will do, but it is not. It cannot be, and has never been, and yet it is.
When Anonymous thought about it, it was all rather complicated.
Best, then, not to think at all. Best to give voice to thought and make it speech.
Anonymous cleared their throat and began.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I summoned you here – ”
I was not summoned.
They flushed, the soundless sound surprising them even though they had been expecting it. Do not fear the voiceless voice, the witch had warned. It speaks, and is silent. The words are only half your own.
Breathing slowly, they tried again.
“No, of course not. Sorry. I’m not – I haven’t used magic before.”
And you still have not. I am not here to be used. Say what you would have, and I will do the same. This is not a service. This is a trade.
“Right. Yes. Sorry.” They inhaled, exhaled. This was the only chance they would have to resolve the conflict that had been the shape of all their life. This was the resolution of aporia; of feeling as though they deserved everything, yet having nothing. Of knowing that they should be free, but being everywhere in chains. Of wanting, and of not having. “I want to feel powerful.”
In what sense? Power is not all-encompassing. The queen ant is powerful to the workers, but weak to the heel of the boot. What power would you hold? Do you seek to command nations, or to master the arts, or to take another as your own?
Anonymous considered how best to formulate their response before replying. Precision was key here. The witch had made it clear that magic would grant you what you asked, whether or not it was exactly what you wanted.
“I’m tired of being silent,” they said eventually. “I’m tired of being unable to say whatever I want. I’m sick to the teeth of thinking all these thoughts – great thoughts, too; thoughts that could topple cities and part seas – and being forced to keep them to myself, all because other people think that their own feelings are more important. Well, what of my feelings? What of feeling inadequate? What of the weight of being told to keep silent? Do they know what that does to a person?”
As they spoke, they could feel their heartbeat rise, pumping and roaring in their ears, in their veins. “Sorry,” they added. “I’m getting carried away. But to answer your question – I want to have the power to speak my mind.”
In all things?
They contemplated it. “Yes. In all things.”
The silence was real for a few moments before it became illusion.
I can help you.
“And will you?”
Yes. It will require exchange, however.
At these words, Anonymous could hardly contain their excitement. “Anything. I’ll give you anything.” They took their purse out from their other pocket, and held it out towards the mound. “I have money. I have a house, too, but that’s back in town. You mightn’t like it there. My neighbours – ”
I would have your face.
Anonymous faltered. “My what?”
Your face. That is my offer. I will give you unlimited and unprecedented power to speak your mind. All thoughts you have will be given voice, and you will never again be forced to turn away from speaking aloud what you have always been taught to keep silent. In return for this extraordinary power, I would take from you your face, and in so doing I would give myself form and body. You would never again be silent; I would never again be invisible.
“But wouldn’t I suffer without a face? How would anyone know that it was me who was speaking?” Anonymous asked, wringing their hands around their purse.
I have named my payment. Now I would name my price. The price of this power is thus: the knowledge that all thoughts you give voice to will be dampened by your lack of face. That everything you ever say to another will be tempered by your lack of identity. That no-one will again know whose thoughts you speak; only that you do speak, and in all things.
There was nothing for it. They would have to decline. They could not accept these terms. What power came at such a price, after all? What king had ever ruled his country with no name or face? What lover had ever made another theirs with no identity?
All the times they had been asked to hold their tongue; all the times they had been scolded for speaking their mind; all the times they had uttered the wrong words at the wrong time and had suffered for it: all this had been for nothing.
Although, Anonymous admitted to themself, the thought did appeal on one front, and one front alone. It was undeniable that a certain freedom was gained by completely giving up one’s identity. After all, who could be held accountable for a deed when the deed was done by one with neither name nor face? Who would they scold when the words that were given were not the words that were wanted? Who would suffer when the things said were not things that people wanted to hear?
Only those who heard them, of course, and not the one who spoke them.
And immediately, ashamedly, wonderfully, the decision was already made, had perhaps been made years ago.
“It’s a deal.”
You agree to the payment and price?
“I do. Take my face, and give me the power I seek.”
The deal is struck.
And then the moon, which had begun to falter at its peak, was suddenly once more at its highest. The minutes had been returned.
Hand trembling, Anonymous reached up to touch their face, only to find that, of course, there was no face. Where their image had been – the folds of their mouth, the curve of their nose – was now smooth and featureless. There was nothing there at all.
“Are you happy?” came a voice from behind them.
Anonymous whirled around, and came face to face with their own face, worn by another. “Who are you?” they asked, and a thrill chased up their spine at the realisation that there was no fear behind these words at all. Their voice did not falter. The question was biting, crystalline.
“I am Magic,” replied the impostor, “given form by our deal. Is it to your satisfaction?” It cocked its head inquisitively, Anonymous’ old eyes seeking validation in their new setting, and Anonymous felt powerful. They were looking at their old self – their weaker, voiceless self – and they were free.
Anonymous drew a deep breath in before responding. “is having a ginormous fat peen a deal breaker for you?” they asked.
Magic blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“yano,” continued Anonymous, “cuz u short.”
“Why are you saying that?” asked Magic, eyes darting left to right in placid uncertainty. “I don’t understand. I gave you what you wanted. You could say anything you wanted, and no-one would ever hold you accountable. You could take a lover with intricately crafted sonnets, bend ears with your scintillating rhetoric, and yet you choose – ”
“is having a ginormous fat peen a deal breaker for you? yano cuz u short,” interjected Anonymous, feeling giddy and drunk with power.
Magic blinked again. “You have the choice of a thousand languages, billions of words – ”
“is having a ginormous fat peen – ”
“Sometimes,” Magic interrupted, “silence is the more powerful weapon after all. I could undo what I have done, but I think it best not to bother. Some people will never learn. I wish you luck with all things, and may you one day find your power useful, for it will not aid you in the pursuit you have chosen.”
With that, Magic was gone, and Anonymous’ face was lost to them forever. Now alone, Anonymous looked gleefully at the small mound of earth that had been their salvation. They thought of all the things they would say tomorrow, and they smiled.
At least, they would have smiled, had they been able.
Far away, Magic rolled its new eyes, and decided to write a sonnet.
I think we, as a general community, need to start taking this little moment more seriously.
This, right here? This is asking for consent. It’s a legal necessity, yes, but it is also you, the reader, actively consenting to see adult content; and in doing so, saying that you are of an age to see it, and that you’re emotionally capable of handling it.
You find the content you find behind this warning disgusting, horrifying, upsetting, triggering? You consented. You said you could handle it, and you were able to back out at any time. You take responsibility for yourself when you click through this, and so long as the creator used warnings and tags correctly, you bear full responsibility for its impact on you.
“Children are going to lie about their age” is probably true, but that’s the problem of them and the people who are responsible for them, not the people that they lie to.
If you’re not prepared to see adult content, created by and for adults, don’t fucking click through this. And if you do, for all that’s holy, don’t blame anyone else for it.
The thing in question was tagged appropiately, and posted in an adult space. To find it, a minor had to agree on that website that they were over 18 and agreed to view adult content.
Seriously.
howdy. i am a person who likes boundaries. if there was a clear cut way to avoid most of the kids in this fandom, trust me, i’d be there. but you hide your ages, when you aren’t outright lying about them, and even those of you upfront about the fact that you are Literally Children go on tirades where you point-blank admit to being on crusades against content you weren’t supposed to be viewing in the first place.
what’s up with that? do you guys realize that’s like me coming into your space and being pissed off that the content is largely PG? we are so used to ~raging against the machine~ on this site that we have apparently forgotten that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. erotica is an entire genre, and in this year of our lord 2017 with extensive tagging and clear rating systems, it’s pretty difficult to stumble into. when i first started reading it at 16, it was not an accident.
where exactly are these “minor spaces” you are referring to? is it the rvb minors chat? because we don’t go in there. there are no designated safe spaces here–you have to make them. there is no designated SFW space on tumblr or ao3. what we have instead are ratings and tags that serve as signage to tell people where to, or where not to go.
you’re framing this like we’re in your territory, but really, you’re in ours. if you want safe, you can go to ff.net. they don’t accept explicit works. that would be why the adult writers are over here, and not there. i guess you could call that area minor-friendly.
but you’re coming out of your safe little corner because you want to see more of the world. i get it. when you’re limited to sticking to content created by teenagers or SFW content from adults, you see less. you’re also in the middle of being mobbed by hormones. been there. mysteriously made it out without pissing a slew of adults off though, but hey, i waited until i was 18 to join tumblr. which is, by the way, ten years old now–five years younger than rvb, a show that was probably taking off when you were diapers. i have no idea how people have gotten it into their heads that we’re watching anything other than an adult show, but i would really appreciate if that stopped, like, yesterday.
i think you guys are forgetting you’re reading content that on every other major site where it’s been hosted, you weren’t supposed to be reading it. ao3 has a rating system that marks explicit works as for adults only. livejournal asks if you’re 18. dreamwidth lets authors demand the same check. tumblr is the only fucking godforsaken place where you don’t have to opt into anything if the blog isn’t marked nsfw, so what do we do? WE MARK OUR SHIT UP. we put it under cuts, we tag it nsfw, we LABEL OUR BLOGS AS NOT FOR MINORS.
and you still show up.
you open the content anyway, and i get it. curiosity, cat. you want to have the power to turn ‘no’ into a ‘yes’.
but here’s the thing. you can’t insist we treat you with respect and then expect us to act like you’re stupid. we know what you’re doing, and we know that you know you’re doing it. (still following?) we know you’re reading these entries fully aware that you shouldn’t be. and there are thousands of kids like you, who, unlike you, are managing to fly under the radar. we know because we’ve done it ourselves.
you can’t come into adult spaces and insist that the content be censored for you. I CAN’T EVEN DO THAT IN MY OWN HOUSE. i am a 24 year old woman living under my father’s roof, and i cannot control a) the topics he chooses to discuss b) the volume he chooses to discuss them at. all i can do is retreat to my room, my designated safe space, which doesn’t even do much on account of our loft style floor plan, yet i cope somehow.
let me make this absolutely clear: no one is in your goddamn house. no one’s forcing you to be exposed to what we make. you are on a website where adults are actively trying to protect you and themselves, and you are not meeting us halfway. and what’s being done here on a wider scale? it’s bullying. you have kids online bullying adults, and it’s only because the adults are decent enough to NOT chew any of you out and be responsible for sending kids into fucking depression spirals that no one’s tried to put a stop to it.
not that it would work. if nothing else, you’ve proved you’re stubborn.
we aren’t stupid, and we know you aren’t, either. we understand you want us to just stop making the things you don’t like. that this “invading minor spaces” rhetoric is really a thinly veiled cry for us to stop making adult content altogether. but adults built the communities you take solace in. do you think a bunch of high schoolers just trying to survive their teenage years are modding your favorite community events, chatrooms, making the gifsets, writing the 300k fic, making art in styles that have taken a decade or more to hone?
so now i have a question: what do you think will happen when you grow up in a space filled with adults you spent a considerable length of time harassing? what happens when you’re finally of age to consume the content, but no one wants to take you off their blacklist? i’ve been in communities where people try to hide their identities. eventually it gets out. you can make all the new blogs you want; your reputation will precede you, and people will block you all over again. good luck having any meta conversations with a crowd of people you alienated with your venom as a child.
if you’re 16, you will be a kid two more years.
but you will be an adult every year afterward.
please police yourself accordingly. i know it’s annoying as hell waiting to grow up. i know there are days you don’t think you will.
you’ll get there.
please let us be happy for you when you do.
I mean I just would have said “do your goddamn homework” but this works too.
This is Leela. I remember her today. She never got the chance to know how much she helped me and my youngest child to continue growing toward a healthy and hopefully happy future. I never got the chance to meet her, but I’ll always remember her.
trans folks in prison are at especially high risk for suicide, harassment, sexual abuse, violence, etc, and are often left out of or unable to take part in conversations such as these. trans folks are often placed into prisons that do not correspond with their gender identity, have trouble accessing trans-related healthcare or prescriptions such as hormones, and are often not permitted to present as the gender they identify as. if you want to support incarcerated trans folks on trans day of remembrance, you can write to a trans prisoner through organizations like the Prisoner Correspondence Project or by getting involved with the Trans Prisoner Day of Action and Solidarity.
more ways to get involved:
be vocal in your support of trans folks. speak up. actively call out transphobia when you see it. do your research, be well-informed, educate yourselves and others.
today is a great day to reflect and honor the memory of those who have lost their lives, but let us also work to center the lives, stories, and work of trans people who are still living. death should not be the first time we hear their names.
Well… thats about it! Of course there’s a whole bunch of useful resources which I just couldn’t include in this post because it was getting too long.
Even if you yourself aren’t trans and wouldn’t find this content useful, please reblog because it may be of great help to some of your followers.
And if you ever have any trans-related questions or need some advice or support, feel free to message me at my main blog here or at my personal/transition blog here.
Just because it’s worth reposting again.
Hey, times are bad.
Here’s a list of resources for trans, nonbinary, and intersex persons.
Slutty Yorick 