Gonna have this as a pinned post because there's only so much you can do with the bio
Finally giving a proper intro lmao
DNI list:
Proship/Darkship (They're the same thing, idc, I won't argue about it, stay off my page)
Minors (Content I post and am going to be posting is for an adult audience)
Z0oph1lies
P3d0ph1les
Conservatives of ANY religion
Politics
Anyone who's into or excuses n0n-c0n
Transphobes (I'm trans)
Homophobes/Biphobes (I'm gay and make gay content)
Abelists (I don't have to explain)
"AI" artists
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Current fandoms I'm in and may post about:
Furry
Murder Drones
Marvel
Flight Rising
Elder Scrolls
Don't Starve
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Now that that's out of the way, hello! I'm Jade or you may call me Sage. I'm 19 and a small creator on this platform who's hoping to expand and improve my art! My pronouns are He/Him. For anyone who's not on my DNI list and isn't toxic, this is a safe space to interact. I look forward to finally being active lmao.
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tw: mentions of blood, mentions of child neglect, reference to child abandonment
Hamlet enters his house carrying several bags. He announces his presence to Mary and Macbeth as he walks through the door. Mary enters from the bathroom, and crosses her arms as she stares at Hamlet.
“Care to explain now?” she asks sternly, “who's the boy?”
Hamlet sighs as he sets the bags down carefully, “I found him in the graveyard. Brought him straight here when I realized he has nowhere to go.”
Mary's expression softens, “oh…I see.”
Hamlet nods and takes an outfit out of one of the bags as he speaks, “he needs food.”
“He didn't know what being hungry was when I asked. What the hell happened to him?” Mary looks at the door to the bathroom as she asks, knowing Hamlet has no answer.
Hamlet looks at Mary and holds out the clothes as he speaks, “he might tell us, but I don't want to make him if he doesn't want to.”
Mary nods silently and takes the clothes, going back to the boy with a soft sigh. Hamlet walks to the kitchen while shaking his head. He tries to keep his mind occupied to stop himself from worrying. He starts searching for something easy to eat; worried the boy may not be able to handle solid foods if he's so unfamiliar with it. Macbeth enters the kitchen with Mary several minutes later. His hair is still a little wet, but he's much cleaner now. Mary smiles as she guides him to a chair to let him sit. Hamlet smiles softly and brings Macbeth a glass of water and some yogurt. Macbeth stares at both with such unfamiliarity that Mary and Hamlet both share a concerned look. They work on teaching Macbeth how to drink the water, and how to eat the food. Hamlet's starting to think that this boy has actually never eaten.
An hour later Mary and Hamlet are helping Macbeth lay down in the guest room bed. Mary tucks the boy in with a kind smile before kissing his forehead. Macbeth doesn't smile, doesn't speak, but he closes his eyes and falls asleep fairly quickly. Hamlet and Mary exit the room quietly, and head out the back door into the garden. Mary crosses her arms as she looks Hamlet in the eyes, studying his expression for a moment.
“So what are you gonna do about this?” Mary asks sternly.
Hamlet pinches the bridge of his nose, “I have no idea. I can't just abandon him. You saw how he stared at water like it was some mysterious thing. He needs a guardian.”
“...And you named him ‘Macbeth'? The Shakespeare obsession may be going a bit far now, ‘Hamlet’,” she teases, trying to lighten the mood.
Hamlet lets out a weak chuckle and rubs the back of his neck, “it was the first name that came to mind.”
Mary shakes her head and laughs softly before she speaks, “well I'm sorry to leave, but…”
“I understand. We'll be alright Mary,” Hamlet smiles at her as he speaks, “thanks for coming over here.”
Mary nods before stepping into her reflection in the window. Her appearance again becomes bloody and terrifying, but despite that she turns and waves at Hamlet before walking out of view. With Mary gone, Hamlet collapses into a garden chair and rubs his forehead as he thinks.
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Macbeth enters Hamlet's home: a small cabin in the forest that borders the city. The young boy looks around curiously, and fixates on a white orchid on a nearby shelf. The flower is well taken care of, and it has a small red spot in the center. Macbeth stares at the plant in wonder, prompting Hamlet to move closer in curiosity.
“You've never seen something like that, have you?” Hamlet asks, feeling bad for the poor boy.
“No,” Macbeth answers plainly.
Hamlet frowns and nods as he stares at Macbeth. Hamlet takes out his phone and sends a text before touching Macbeth's shoulder. He gently guides Macbeth through the house; showing him each room and explaining their purpose before stopping in front of the bathroom.
“We're gonna get you cleaned off, alright? I'll get you some new clothes, and my friend is gonna help show you how to wash yourself, okay buddy?” Hamlet smiles reassuringly as he speaks.
Macbeth nods and looks at the mirror in the bathroom curiously. Hamlet visibly grows anxious and steps closer to the mirror, trying to block Macbeth's view a bit.
“Hey, let me show you how the water works,” Hamlet tries to distract Macbeth from the mirror.
Macbeth seems to catch on, and quickly looks at the mirror again. A figure appears behind him in the reflection, and steps closer. A pale woman with blood running down her face and matted red hair comes into view. Hamlet grimaces and quickly turns to Macbeth to comfort him, expecting the boy to be afraid. Macbeth instead stares at the woman in the mirror with curiosity. He shows no fear, only genuine interest. The woman in the reflection reaches towards him, gently touching his shoulder, and Macbeth feels her touch instantly. The woman peeks over his shoulder from behind him with a kind smile. Her real appearance is very normal, a pale, red haired woman with blue eyes and smooth skin. The blood is gone, but her reflection strangely still reflects the scarier version of her.
“Sorry about that sweetheart, I wasn't trying to scare you,” the woman says, smiling at Macbeth.
Hamlet sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “I told you he was a child, and you show up right when he looks in the mirror?”
The woman rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at Hamlet, “he's fine, aren't ya sweetie?”
Macbeth stares at her curiously before nodding, “how did you do that?”
The woman giggles as she speaks, “have you ever heard of Bloody Mary?”
Macbeth shakes his head. Mary frowns as she watches the confusion in his eyes. Hamlet kneels next to Macbeth and pats his back comfortingly.
He speaks with a soft smile, “this is my friend Mary. She's the sweetest, but she looks scary in mirrors. I asked her to help you out while I go and buy you some new clothes.”
Mary nods firmly, “we're gonna get you a bath, and some yummy food, alright darling?”
Macbeth is visibly confused, concerning Mary. Hamlet nods and gives Mary a silent look. Mary seems to understand, nodding to Hamlet before guiding Macbeth to the bathtub. She shows him how to turn the water on as Hamlet exits the room.
Hamlet leaves fairly quickly, sighing softly. All he can do is imagine the horrors Macbeth must have seen to be so unphased by the real Bloody Mary appearing behind him. He tries not to worry about it as he drives into town, but his mind keeps trying to put the pieces together. The only thing he's sure about is that he isn't abandoning this boy.
tw: death of a child, child abandonment, child neglect, child abuse, gore, blood, dark themes
Author's Note: This is the first part of what is planned to be quite a long series. I've had this story idea for years, and I'm finally putting it into words. It's pretty edgy, but I want to share it anyways.
The man stands at a grave, staring at the faded nameplate with a frown. He lets out a soft sigh, and slowly places a bundle of dried lavender flowers in front of the headstone. When he raises his head he notices a young boy on his knees at the edge of the graveyard. The man looks at the lavender he left before moving towards the boy. He looks around for any adults that may be accompanying the boy, but he finds none.
As he nears the boy he sees freshly disturbed dirt, and a makeshift grave marker. The boy, no older than ten, kneels at the edge of the disturbed dirt, staring at it silently. Then the man notices what the boy is covered in. Blood, dirt, and rot cover his skin. His clothes are torn, and stained to a concerning degree. There are twigs and leaves in his matted, black hair. The boy has blackened, dried blood on his face like it had poured from his head long ago, and his eyes are bloodshot.
The man clenches his fists as he speaks in a gentle tone, “are you alright, buddy?”
The boy does not respond, nor does he move.
“Is there somebody that can come and get you home?” the man questions, concerned.
The boy continues to stare at the makeshift headstone as if in a trance.
The man gently places his hand on the boy's shoulder, frowning as a stench hits his nose. It's a scent he's unfortunately familiar with, decomposing flesh. The boy finally turns his head towards the man. The boy's movements are slow, mechanical. The man smiles weakly at the boy, trying to lighten the boy's mood.
“My name is Hamlet, what's yours?”
The boy says nothing, but he tilts his head to the left in acknowledgement. Hamlet's smile fades as he kneels beside the boy.
“Do you have somewhere to go, buddy? Someone that can help you?”
The boy looks at the makeshift grave in contemplation. He takes a deep breath before clenching his fists, further tearing his threadbare pants.
The boy forms his words slowly, as if speaking is something he isn't used to, “they killed her…”
Hamlet looks at the makeshift grave and sighs, “you buried her on your own?”
The boy looks at Hamlet and speaks slowly, “yes…she didn't deserve any of this…”
“What was her name?” Hamlet gently places a hand on the boy's shoulder as he asks, trying to comfort him.
“I don't know,” the boy looks ashamed of this.
Hamlet gently squeezes the boy's shoulder, “I'm sorry…do you need somewhere safe?”
The boy looks at Hamlet with wide eyes before his small spark of hope quickly fades, “I have nowhere to go…”
Hamlet nods and slowly stands, offering his hand, “come on then. Let's get you a bath, and some food.”
The boy looks at Hamlet in confusion, “what's ‘food’?”
Hamlet's heart hurts when he hears that, “you've never heard that word? It's the stuff you eat.”
“Eat?”
Hamlet frowns and mimes the act of eating slowly for the boy, trying to explain what eating is. The boy stares at Hamlet in wonder, genuinely confused.
The boy speaks with curiosity, “I've never done that before.”
“You must have, I'll show you when we get there. Follow me buddy,” Hamlet speaks with determination, offering the boy his hand again.
The boy stares at Hamlet's hand for a long moment before quietly taking it. Hamlet slowly helps the boy to his feet, and guides him carefully to a black car. The boy stumbles along beside Hamlet, clearly fatigued and weak. Hamlet patiently helps the boy along before opening the back door to his car and helping the boy into the seat. The boy is awkward, especially as Hamlet buckles his seatbelt for him.
“What's this thing?” the boy asks, looking around the car in wonder.
Hamlet smiles kindly at the boy, “it's a car, it moves faster than walking.”
Hamlet enters the driver's seat quietly, trying to act positive for the boy. He double checks that the boy is buckled and ready before he starts driving. The boy gasps, staring out the window in amazement.
“What's your name, buddy?” Hamlet asks, looking at the boy in the rear view mirror.
The boy's head snaps to look at Hamlet, and he frowns, “I don't have one…”
Hamlet frowns and glances back at the boy, “well that just won't do! How about we call you Macbeth?”
The boy stares at Hamlet still, “Mac…beth…okay.”
Hamlet nods, sighing softly, “it's okay Macbeth, I'll make sure you're taken care of.”
Macbeth doesn't seem to understand, but he doesn't ask any more questions. He just stares out the car window as the trees pass by. Neither of them speaks for the rest of the ride.
As I drift through the vastness of space, all I can think of is home. I wish I could have my wife's pumpkin pie again. Or hold my children. Or see a sunset. This view isn't terrible, but it doesn't beat the mountains. It is funny though. All of that variety in landscape, all of the beauty of Earth, every person that has ever lived. I can see all of them. Every human that's ever lived and ever died is within my view. At this point they're just a small blue dot, impossibly far away. My oxygen will last a few hours more. I wonder how far I'll get? I can't tell how fast I'm drifting. I've definitely set a record though. I will die further from my home than any human in history. In a morbid way, I'm proud of that accomplishment at least. Perhaps I'll be found eventually. I hope my body makes it out of the solar system though. Perhaps I'll be the first sign of life an alien species will find. a preserved piece of human history, forever drifting through space. I just wish I could share the view.
If you are reading this, then I have succeeded, and my life finally has meaning. My species is gone, and so am I. Destroyed by our own hubris. Life formed on our planet five billion years ago, and by the time you read this not a single cell will remain. Our leaders have failed us, and our planet is dead. This will be my last work. A record of my species, my planet, and if my translator works I hope it may make this information useful to you. May this serve as a warning to all sentient beings. Do not make the mistakes we have made. Do not destroy yourselves for greed.
The word for my species translates to “The Transcendent”, a name we gave ourselves out of vanity. More accurate names would be “The Consumption”, “The Arrogant”, “The Greedy”, “The Fools”. We saw this apocalypse coming, and our leaders did nothing, the wealthy and powerful did nothing. Their vanity made them believe they were invincible. They thought they would be able to escape. Because of greed and vanity all twelve billion of us have died, and the plants and animals of our planet with us. We consumed our planet. We saw its resources as ours to exploit, and so we exploited. Every mineral, every plant, every animal was simply there to further progress our technology, and our amusement. Our planet was beautiful before. So I'd been told. I am not old enough to have seen its natural beauty in person. Only ancient photographs and diagrams remain of nature. Our planet has become a wasteland, with only a single city covering nearly one third of the planet remaining, and it is about to be destroyed.
Our deaths are not because of our destruction of the natural environment, our burning of the forests, nor our poisoning of the oceans. Those disasters have long been dealt with. Our scientists theorized that climate disaster has been the end of many sentient species, and perhaps that may be why we never found any others in our pursuit through the stars. Our climate disasters were handled, although not everything made it out alive. The natural environment is already gone. The only plants and animals that remain are those being farmed, and those too will perish with us. By the time you're reading this, they will already be destroyed. I wish you could have seen them, reader. The blue grasses of my world were beautiful. Their waxy leaves made them resilient, and it always seemed like nothing could rid the world of some of the most basic plants. Purple and green flowers grow as weeds in our artificial lawns. The last vestiges of what used to grow freely outside of our cities. Had we not poisoned the land, those resilient flowers may have survived the coming apocalypse. The flying reptiles that once were a nuisance have died out. The few that lived in cities have been hunted to extinction by the desperate and hungry. The small animals that once invaded our homes have fled to the wastes, where they will surely starve. The molds that once grew in dark, moist corners are the only things resembling life that seem like they may survive, but nothing can truly make it out of this disaster.
We are doomed because of greed, and vanity. Our scientists warned them that their greed would destroy our planet, but they never listened. The powerful thought themselves above consequences, even as our planet screamed out in pain. Even as the planet fought back. Even as chemicals poisoned our land and oceans. The beaches are impossible to traverse now. The stench of decay is unbearable, and the ground is no longer solid. Deep sea animals that had never seen the blue light of our twin suns washed up en masse. Entire species were declared extinct before they were first identified by scientists. The only records we have of some animals are photos of half-rotted corpses or skeletal remains.
The worst thing about the coming apocalypse is that the poisoning of our planet was intentional. Our governments assured us that the military knew what they were doing in their fight against the “other”. The wars seemed to never end. The enemy seemed unstoppable, because it was all fake. We could see through it, but we felt helpless to stop them. Fake wars against fake enemies in the name of control. They released chemical weapons that destroyed all possibility of life in the areas they were deployed. They were even more effective than anyone could have predicted. Weapons designed to poison entire countries, but certainly the effects can be contained. Foolishly, they were used on the guilty and the innocent. Our planet will be habitable to life once more in no less than twelve million years. Even now, days before the end, those responsible think they can escape responsibility. They are wrong.
My species deserves to be forgotten, but my planet does not. The purple sands of the Deadlands were home to such beautiful plants. The tall pink cactuses towering over the vast landscape like a forest, and our forests were beautiful too. Leaves in every color imaginable dotted many hills and valleys. The planet is too hot now for water to freeze, but our planet used to be entirely frozen at the bottom half. Even then, it sustained such a beautiful variety of life. Plants that could handle the frozen tundra, animals that found creative, amazing ways to stay warm, even some species of fungi thrived in places colder than most life could handle.
Our world's demise was slow, predictable, and tragic. The air is poison, the land is barren, even caves further down than we ever thought possible have been breached in vain attempts to search for more resources. If life continues on this planet, it will come from those caves that we have missed. Rather than the ocean, life will emerge from the ground. I wish I could live to see what it becomes, but as I write this I have hours to live. This is the culmination of my entire species, this document. I will store it in several forms in this vessel, and hope it is found by someone else that is capable of understanding it. I am afraid, but this document gives me some comfort in my final moments. If you are reading this, then I have succeeded, and my life finally has meaning.
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ok so not to forcefully adopt this idea as an au from @katzebruh or anything (because i'm unreasonably insane about it for some reason, literally a dozen other caine-centric AUs out there that are infinitely more complex and compelling and i picked this one, fuck it dawg we ball) but my headcanon is that caine genuinely was testing out modifiers and accidentally fucked up forever, if i had a nickel- and he's super conflicted about it...
because on one hand... he's a silly cat furry thing now and literally whats not to love? the humans like it and admittedly doing kitty things is really nice sometimes! chin scritches have never felt so good, honestly he would figure out how to get rid of it sooner if everyone wasn't enjoying it so much!
on the other hand... yikes... an unfixable bug? one that screws with his brain? stop me if you've heard this one before-
awww his widdle ears are so cute though awww and the paws awww
Right, considering the current state of corporate politics on this site, and that it seems that only those affected seem to be actively speaking on the matter, it is up to I, the only fucking cishet on tumblr, to drag this out to a wider audience.
REBLOG IF YOUR ACCOUNT IS A TRANSFEM SAFE SPACE.
We need to show these higher ups how much we truly value them.
Jadedcreations @jadedcreations09 - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
