I really want to stress here (as one duped):
It is not a moral failing on you if you didn't notice James Somerton Bad
His videos are well produced. His narration is convincing. He's a marketer, of course he knows how to make a video sell. His videos are impactful because the writing (stolen) is academic (and stolen) and emotionally moving (because they are stolen). The text is good, interesting text (as it is not his), of course he would be catapulted into high views. Of course people will be duped.
I for one feel very stupid at the moment because I was a long term fan of his. Being dyslexic a lot of sources were ones I had seen but couldn't really interact with, so when I heard James Somerton narrating them I didn't think anything of it. His woman bashing felt... Off, but surrounded by sensitive think pieces (from other people) on queer identity (that other people experience) I thought it was just one or two poorly phrased lines. His lie about Radclyffe Hall was one I spotted because I'm incredibly passionate about butch lesbian history. I assumed he misremembered. I'm saddened to see it compiled that it was not the case.
This sucks. It does. His video on deep cuts inspired me massively (and I'm thankful I now know who actually inspired me!): it got me into the Scream franchise, it got me into horror as a whole, it's collided me with some of my favourite media analyses (who I can now accurately name).
The most we can do from here is divert our attention now. Find the creators who were stolen from and spotlight their work. Watch the celluloid closet. Go through Hbomberguy's playlist on other gay creators (https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRGz5EMig3r2ZDgeGzwUlSz-PzF-L1Xu1&si=f63gIa7OS0aoS5RQ)! We can, ultimately, turn this around I think.
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many subs are so worried about being perfect, while missing that they’re just supposed to be good; like the classic goon to my villainess. it’s fine to just go: “on it boss” and proceed to completely fuck things up, while I watch with a smile, thinking about how adorable they are, not in the least worried about the success of my villainous machinations, because all my plans already anticipate the clumsy bundle of anxious cuteness, that is my sub. reverence trumps performance. I don’t need you to excel past all expectations; I just need you to worship me.
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The Curse Of Hope
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Danny is in another universe. He had a reason, but he doesn’t remember anymore. He can only stare, horrified and disgusted, at the sickest city spirit he’s ever seen. Shivering and swaying with every step, core exposed, and ectoplasm leaking from wounds that are decades old. A ratty blanket was thrown over their shoulders, barely hiding the spirit’s pale grey skin and protruding black bones.
The spirit didn’t even sense him until he reached out to touch its wispy shoulders. The spirit flinched, clutching at the dozens of trinkets hanging from their neck and tucking in on themselves like they were expecting a blow.
“Oh, shit,” He swore, floating back a few feet, hands in the air, to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not here to steal from you.” The spirit shivered again and rolled a pearl necklace in between their fingers. A nervous habit. “Uh, I like that pocket watch? It’s very nice.”
That got their attention. They peeked at Danny, and he saw that more tattered cloth was covering their eyes, blending in with the stringy hair that reached the ground. Their blanket fluttered weakly, revealing hundreds of thousands of tiny marks etched into their skin. Scars, really. Scars that wrote out curse after curse onto the spirit’s very being. They burned with evil intent, and even reached inside the spirit’s body and wrapped around their core.
Occasionally, blinding specks of color raced across their body, temporarily erasing the writing, but it always returned quickly. He watched, a little detached, as one particular line rewrote itself across their rough forearm, drawing fresh ectoplasm like someone was writing it with a thin knife.
“Are you…alright?” Danny stuttered. A stupid question.
The spirit cocked its head. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he felt their burning gaze as they pondered the question.
“The pain of others becomes mine own.” They rasped. “The lights of the city dim as rotten wealth clogs mine veins. Magicks long forgotten have eaten mine skins, pulled mine cloak, and darkened mine skies. Helios has refused to grace mine doorstep, and the seasons of the Earth have revoked their kindness.”
Danny held his breath. It felt like he was the one with the exposed core, not the spirit.
The spirit shivered once more. “Tell mine soul, little lamb. How could this Forsaken City know peace, when it was long since ripped from mine hands?”
Shit, he needed Frostbite. And maybe Clockwork. Now.
-Or-
Danny meets the spirit of Gotham City. The villains and rogues that have plagued the city for decades are literal curses that are taking quite the toll on Gotham, and honestly, Danny isn’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The heroes seem to be doing some help, and are probably the reason Gotham made it this far, but the poor city needs help from the Realms if they want to get better.
Luckily, Danny can provide that help.
But only if he could get Gotham to leave their city behind. Because recovery is going to take a very long time.
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Made my very own tiny dungeon meshi dragon plush, that’s based on the version that only appears in the very last chapter for five pages and then is never seen again. I think it turned out pretty well.
I used this pattern to make it with some minor tweaks to the body, tails and legs and then just made some tiny cones for the horns at the end. If anyone would be intersted I might post the alterations and where to apply them but go check out the original pattern! I stuffed it both with acylic stuffing but also some plastic pellets for a bit of extra weight. The eyes are done with french knots.
Going to be adding manga spoilers below the read more with pictures of what I tried to get it to look like.
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