WBN Animatic "The Vote"

a comic about different types of storytellers

Tumblr is unique bc like. It's collaborative shitposting and you can't opt in or out. You can just say something about your day then an evil wizard shows up to turn your post into something humorous

Every other site is just one and done, but here a post is a welcome mat to be funnier than you

which one of u was going to tell me that tea tastes different if u put it in hot water?

I want to see a magical girl anime where instead of a gorgeous, colourful sequin-filled transformation sequence, it’s shot and sound designed like a werewolf movie.

We see the protagonist and her ragtag group of pals who’ve been conforming to the genre up until this point, face up to the villain of the week as the main character starts to give an empowering speech about the power of friendship then halfway through fall to the ground in pain. A strangled scream bubbles from her lips as her friends join her on the ground, panting and writhing. We hear bones pop and sinew tear as they begin to emit a sickening glow and the villain steps back, clearly not expecting this. As a hand reaches out from the glowing pile of bodies and the villain turns to run, we see what horror they’ve become: The same group of young women but with snazzier outfits and hair to represent their individual powers and personality. They are also marginally taller. The speech continues like nothing happened and the villain throws up and surrenders immediately.

This sequence happens every episode.

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“The High Priestess represents human wisdom. The most intuitive and connected, she is a card of awareness. She urges you to listen to your inner voice and follow your instincts. Your mind knows far more than you think. Turn within for the guidance you seek.” “She represents unknown, mystery, intuition, spiritual knowledge, and the subconscious mind. She is esoteric.”

I wrote this in a notebook when I was supposed to be sleeping. I had no idea where this story was meant to go and I was very tired but I thought you guys would like it anyway <3

Imagine performing your own autopsy. Seeing your perfectly clean naked corpse lying on a metal slab as cold and lifeless as itself. As your hands make the first incision, the skin snags and damages your scalpel’s blade, as if your body is still trying to prevent others understanding it, still as stubborn from beyond the grave as it was when it was alive.

Despite its…your resistance, after plunging and slashing and prying with your now ruined scalpel, practically begging for the flesh to open up to you, to tell you what happened to us, to just let you in, the skin gives way. Practically caves in, even, and a wretched stench fills the ice-cold room.

Gazing into your own gaping chest cavity, you see atrophied muscle, liquefying organs, decaying tissues and thick, gunky blood. Your body was only in storage for about a day and a half and found dead an hour before that. Nothing could rot it that fast, especially in cold storage. Your eyes water, but whether it’s from the smell or the fear that one day you will become this, are already becoming this, you can’t tell.

Nothing could make your body rot that fast. Not if it had just died. Maybe that corruption was there all along. Maybe it’s already within you. Maybe you brought it upon yourself.

You swear your body looks at you, it’s expression a mix of resentment and pity. It knows. It knew the whole time. They say ignorance is bliss, but knowledge of ignorance is purgatory and you must either learn, condemning yourself, or stay a fool forever.

There is only one way you can save yourself. You rip your shirt off and turn and plunge the blunt, mangled scalpel into your own chest, eliciting a reflexive gasp despite the cold numbness spread throughout your body. It slashes messily, like a rake across soil, and you see a puff of fungal spores burst from the wound.

You fall to the ground as faceless assistants haul your body into a metal storage unit, like you dragged the corpse from. The last thing you see is a single tear falling from the corpse’s eye before you are locked in the cold steel coffin and you are forced into darkness.

Hours later, long after all your internal functions have ceased, you hear footsteps draw closer. As you are pulled once again into the light by the assistants, you see your chest fully unblemished and out of the corner of your eye, you see yourself enter the room with a fresh scalpel and a haunted look in your eyes.

I Think If Steve Jobs Was In Calorum He Would Be An Apple