#meanwhile i continue working (art is work) for free

[debralynndraws]

#my act of defiance until the databases are opt IN #meanwhile i continue working (art is work) for free #and putting my stuff on the web for 'exposure' #because how the hell else will i ever get commissions? #you need a following first #Instagram

[kayas-kosmos]

Because of what's happening on Twitter...

I've made a little diagram to demonstrate why billionaires and the ultra-wealthy are bad for society.

(Text in Image)

"If we view society as a body, every sector is like a different organ within the body that serves a function and works in harmony with other organs to maintain balance. Every part of the body is important for the whole thing to function."

"The ultra-wealthy want you to believe they are the beating heart and thinking mind of the society – they are the innovators who create our jobs and their brilliance drives society forward. They deserve to be at the top of society because they have earned that. Without them, the body won’t function because they are the most important part."

"In reality, they are more like a malignant tumour, sucking all of the blood (resources) away from everything else (people and the planet) to fuel its own infinite growth, depriving the rest of the body and slowly killing it. Workers create all of the innovation and keep things running, the ultra-wealthy take all the credit."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is a public domain image so feel free to pinch it for whatever.

Elon Musk has put the careers of thousands of small business owners who depend on Twitter (myself included) in jeopardy by completely running it into the ground. Before this, Mark Zuckerberg had already been doing the same when he started pursuing Metaverse, making Instagram and Facebook much more unusable for artists. Do I really need to go into other examples of CEOs and very normalised practise of wage theft?

Meanwhile, the UK currently has the richest Prime Minister in its history. What is this man doing with this wealth? Continuing the Tory legacy of austerity in order to line his pockets and the pockets of his crony friends. This has resulted in a devastating cost of living crisis that continues to ravage the country as people's energy bills skyrocket out of control.

My diagram is pretty basic and lacks nuance, there's definitely more I could elaborate on with this comparison but I really don't have time. I just want people to get the basic point of how billionaires view themselves vs what function they actually serve. I'm also not here to debate whether some organs are more important than others since I'm not a doctor, that's not really the point here. And no, I don't care if people think I'm being harsh by comparing billionaires to a tumour. If they don't want to be compared to one they should stop acting like one. Jeff Bezos could end world hunger right now and chooses not to.

Also, I know a lot of people are going to come at me with the argument that billionaires give away massive amounts of money. First off, people like Jeff Bezos only give large sums of money to charity a.) for the sake of improving their public image and b.) because giving to charity allows them to write it off in their taxes. Also, charities in of themselves have a lot of problems, but that's a blog post for another day. Mutual Aid is a better way to help people directly. Really, the ultra wealthy need to be taxed, of course they do everything within their power to avoid taxes.

Also:

"Earning a lot of money" and "holding onto a lot of money" are two different things. You cannot be a multi-millionaire unless you hold onto that money. If you give away massive chunks of it to enrich society, you cease to be a billionaire.

Oh and this is worth a watch, too.

Furthermore:

Also before the inevitable great man comments:

Being a billionaire is a moral failing. Nobody needs that much money.

[Slight edit here - I made the assertion that a billionaire could not spend all of their money in their lifetime, but as someone in the comments pointed out it's very easy for them to completely waste billions in no time. Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg have shown that].

Anyway, if you would like to see more anti-Capitalist art from me, I am currently working on a webcomic called "Flowerpunk" - a story about a group of anarchists who are trying to save the city of Wyrdon from a supernatural plague known as "the rot." The comic heavily discusses disaster Capitalism and how the rich will use mass death and destruction as an opportunity to further line their pockets.

I also like to do little anti-Capitalist doodles relating to this project, which I plan to make into posters at some point.

Please consider donating a Ko-Fi also if you would like to help support this project. I am really struggling at the moment because I've basically lost a massive chunk of my client base due to this Twitter implosion and also because of the AI BS that has made it impossible for me to get any reach nowadays. The last year or so has been an absolute nightmare for my career because of all of this.

Thank you all for your continued support! Hopefully I can re-establish my audience here on Tumblr and wherever else I decide to go.

#Twitter #twitpocalypse #elongated muskrat #eat the rich #eat the fucking rich #tax the rich #tax the 1% #tax the billionaires #anti capitalism #workers of the world unite #working class solidarity #Can you tell that I am absolutely fucking done with this BS?

[foone]

So here's the thing about AI art, and why it seems to be connected to a bunch of unethical scumbags despite being an ethically neutral technology on its own. After the readmore, cause long. Tl;dr: capitalism

The problem is competition. More generally, the problem is capitalism.

So the kind of AI art we're seeing these days is based on something called "deep learning", a type of machine learning based on neural networks. How they work exactly isn't important, but one aspect in general is: they have to be trained.

The way it works is that if you want your AI to be able to generate X, you have to be able to train it on a lot of X. The more, the better. It gets better and better at generating something the more it has seen it. Too small a training dataset and it will do a bad job of generating it.

So you need to feed your hungry AI as much as you can. Now, say you've got two AI projects starting up:

Project A wants to do this ethically. They generate their own content to train the AI on, and they seek out datasets that allow them to be used in AI training systems. They avoid misusing any public data that doesn't explicitly give consent for the data to be used for AI training.

Meanwhile, Project B has no interest in the ethics of what they're doing, so long as it makes them money. So they don't shy away from scraping entire websites of user-submitted content and stuffing it into their AI. DeviantArt, Flickr, Tumblr? It's all the same to them. Shove it in!

Now let's fast forward a couple months of these two projects doing this. They both go to demo their project to potential investors and the public art large.

Which one do you think has a better-trained AI? the one with the smaller, ethically-obtained dataset? Or the one with the much larger dataset that they "found" somewhere after it fell off a truck?

It's gonna be the second one, every time. So they get the money, they get the attention, they get to keep growing as more and more data gets stuffed into it.

And this has a follow-on effect: we've just pre-selected AI projects for being run by amoral bastards, remember. So when someone is like "hey can we use this AI to make NFTs?" or "Hey can your AI help us detect illegal immigrants by scanning Facebook selfies?", of course they're gonna say "yeah, if you pay us enough".

So while the technology is not, in itself, immoral or unethical, the situations around how it gets used in capitalism definitely are. That external influence heavily affects how it gets used, and who "wins" in this field. And it won't be the good guys.

An important follow-up: this is focusing on the production side of AI, but obviously even if you had an AI art generator trained on entirely ethically sourced data, it could still be used unethically: it could put artists out of work, by replacing their labor with cheaper machine labor. Again, this is not a problem of the technology itself: it's a problem of capitalism. If artists weren't competing to survive, the existence of cheap AI art would not be a threat.

I just feel it's important to point this out, because I sometimes see people defending the existence of AI Art from a sort of abstract perspective. Yes, if you separate it completely from the society we live in, it's a neutral or even good technology. Unfortunately, we still live in a world ruled by capitalism, and it only makes sense to analyze AI Art from a perspective of having to continue to live in capitalism alongside it.

If you want ideologically pure AI Art, feel free to rise up, lose your chains, overthrow the bourgeoisie, and all that. But it's naive to defend it as just a neutral technology like any other when it's being wielded in capitalism; ie overwhelmingly negatively in impact.

#Capitalism #The ethics of AI art

[dapper-lil-arts]

So uh. My freelance work here is kind of dying.

I thought i'd keep my long-term followers on the know-how, so i might as well write about my current circumstances here, give y'all an update, so to speak.

So, for several reasons, most of them not even my fault, i've been getting less and less commissions, almost none, actually, and the ones i get are usualy on the cheaper side, which is bad concidering that this is my livelihood, commission money pays my bills, my groceries, and my taxes, and now i sure as hell am strugling to imagine this will sustain me for long. Twitter is a sinking ship ever since elon went over, Specificaly for people like me. I had just broken into 12k followers there, a huge milestone for me, and then i got shadowbanned, and for the last few months i've gotten *nothing*. It's completely dead, i'm stagnated there, all my arts are censored, and there's no way for me to undo it or fix it, and so i've gotten less and less comms out there, which sucks because its the only reason i was even on that stupid site. Here on tumblr, meanwhile, the CEO went on a massive transphobic streak, and a lot of lgbt folk (which composed a lot of my following,) decided to jump ship, and i sure as hell dont blame them, but sadly that's more potential costumers that bailed, and there's no proper website to go to. Anywhere i'd go, i'd be starting from scratch again, which would be utterly disheartening and frustrating, and there no website that is kind to artists, with no algorythim, that also have a messaging system (the latter being ESSENTIAL to the way i do comms) So i'm kind of stuck. I just. have nowhere to go, and nothing to do. And last but not least, my own fault, I've just been drawing and creating what *I* specificaly want, on an hedonistic streak this year. That's why theres so much pony bs on this blog now, and why i was straight up posting poetry a while back, and have written hundreds upon hundreds of fanfiction pages in the last few months; Which, unfortunately, is a terrible business decision if your intent is making money. Which I surely should have prioritized, but in the end, its not up to me, its up to the costumers... So now i'm a bit stuck. I've enjoyed the things ive drawn and written more than anything i've ever done, and yet, i've never been less successful on the actual business side. I'm still considering my venues, my possibilities, but there's not many. Trying to get a job would certainly pull me away from creation, and i'd hate it regardless of what it was, and on another venue, theres no guarantee that going back to furry titties would bring me money.

and that's whats heartbreaking about it too. no matter how much effort i put on my work, theres no guarantee of sucess, so why even spend time trying to craft a masterpiece? why not just follow trends and make a tiktok account or whatever the fuck makes money these days. I'd rather not, frankly. And i wont. Well, that's about it. Thanks for reading this update, that's how my life is goin atm. i'm going to continue doing as i am right now, but yknow... I'm not sure what i should do, if you want to give me suggestions, feel free.

#Also sorry for not streaming lately #my throats like. DESTROYED with a small cold #I sound like a chain smoker atm #Also this poll will not affect my decisions in the slightest #i just thought it was funny

[hardly-an-escape]

AU free to a good home:

Dream is the creative director of a famous haunted house attraction. known as the King of Nightmares, his "realm" – called The Dreaming – is an immersive, subversive, creative experience. it's different every year.

as you move through the rooms, you start in a beautiful, imaginative kind of dreamscape, almost a piece of interactive performance art. as you progress through the house, he masterfully builds the sense of unease and dread to a pants-shittingly terrifying nightmare peak.

(like, literally. every year there's a tally in the break room of how many people have pooped their pants.)

Hob is a famous wuss. hates haunted houses, hates scary movies. hears a minor chord and hides behind the sofa. he gets dragged along to The Dreaming one year because his colleagues essentially kidnap him (i.e. get him tipsy and arrive at the haunted house before he knows what's going on).

it happens to be a night when Dream is personally filling in at the last minute because one of the actors is out sick. it's one of the scarier rooms – not the scariest, but when things are starting to get real.

Hob is... not having a good time. he's clinging to the back of his coworker's sweater. he has not pooped his pants, thankyouverymuch, but there are visible sweat stains in the armpits of his shirt. and then he gets to the room where Dream is working.

they lock eyes. Dream is like, 'wtf is wrong with this man, he is clearly not having a good time, why is he here.'

Hob is like,

Hob cannot stop thinking about the breathtaking man who frightened the pants off him. Hob wonders if he could be convinced to take the pants off him in a less frightening context. he is so gone for this stranger that Hob, who is again a famous wuss, goes back to the haunted house multiple times in the hopes of seeing Dream again.

Dream is like, 'this man is either insane or a complete masochist but either way I'm weirdly into it.'

he continues to find excuses to sub in different roles. maybe pays a little extra attention to Hob on his way through. maybe breathes down his neck in a way that should send a different kind of goosebumps down his spine but Hob's actually getting a little hard in his jeans because he can just barely smell Dream's aftershave under the greasepaint.

meanwhile Hob is actually getting desensitized enough to the jump scares that he's beginning to appreciate the artistry of fear and the thought and care that Dream puts into constructing the haunted house each year.

anyway I don't know what happens next but probably after Hob goes through five or six times Death or Matthew or somebody gets fed up and locks them in a closet together and they make out about it.

#you might be able to tell that I'm also a famous wuss who's kind of fascinated by the artistry of fear #I do not watch scary movies but I love to read detailed synopses of the plots because I want to know what happens #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #hob gadling #dream of the endless

[allineedisonedream]

omg i stumbled across your blog recently and your art is gorgeous!!! i love the style and the way you draw dick in particular so much!

also i couldn’t stop thinking about your tangled au it’s so clever! it got me thinking of an au of your au (if that’s presumptuous or annoying feel free to ignore this ask lol). but it always bugged me slightly in the original tangled that rapunzel could remember stuff from when she was a baby bc babies can’t do that lol (obv she also has magic glowing hair so suspension of disbelief and all). but what if dick was actually older when slade (or court of owls tbh take your pick) kidnapped him? like he came under bruce’s care just like in canon after his parents died, and was around long enough to become brothers with jason, and tim had just been adopted when dick and bruce have a fight and dick storms off. not as bad as comics and bruce doesn’t kick him out bc he’s not an ass lol, but maybe dick wants to do more with his powers and bruce is overprotective, so dick storms out fully intending to come back, but slade has been watching him and takes this chance to kidnap him. and when bruce goes looking for him all he finds is a bloodstain and no dick.

and obviously dick is very keen on escaping the creepy dude who’s kidnapped him, but slade brings him to the basement of the tower and begins to torture/brainwash him sort of like the apprentice arc. and over time bc slade sucks and is good at the whole brainwashing thing, dick slowly looses his memories and eventually can’t remember a life outside of the tower at all. and he continues to grow up in the tower with slade as his “father” and he always has this sense that something isn’t quite right, but he can’t put his finger on it. like he has all these weird torture-like scars that he can’t remember getting, but slade tells him that it was from when he was young and before slade rescued him, and that’s why the world is so scary and dangerous and he has to stay in the tower where slade can protect him. and ofc he does bc slade loves him and wouldn’t lie to him right? and he doesn’t know why the name richard doesn’t fit him quite right, or why his heart races when slade appears unexpectedly (that’s how love works right?). but he stays in the tower like he’s supposed to until wally and roy show up.

and slowly after traveling with them he begins to get weird flashes of both painful and good memories, and strange sensations of deja vue. while meanwhile bruce is still all brooding and mourning bc it was his fight that led dick to run away. and added angst is that jason and tim actually remember and miss dick, even though tim had just started to get to know him. and damian is angsty bc he’s the only one never to have met dick (handwavy on the ages just like dc lol). meanwhile the kingdom still remembers and mourns the charismatic adorable prince that they lost.

and then when slade eventually catches up to and captures wally and roy, dick offers to give himself up and promises never to escape if slade spares them. and it’s extra sad bc he finally remembers what he’d be giving up. he remembers bruce and alfred and his brothers, and he remembers all the trauma slade put him through, and he’s willing to go through it all again to save wally and roy (bc is it really dick grayson if he isn’t super self sacrificing lol). and ofc it eventually ends happily and dick is delighted to go back to his family with his new friends and see his old brothers and meet his new brother all with a new haircut.

but yeah overall your au wormed its way into my brain and i couldn’t stop thinking about it lol, it’s so good!!!!

Ahjajfk thank youuuu<3

And OMG, this is amazing! Beautifully written, yes, absolutely love all the details, especially Slade's and Dick's relationship in all this. I've actually thought about him being taken later on so Tim and Jason would also remember Dick. But I think I started overthinking everything and made it way too complicated (I think I wrote about 20 pages of notes and stuff, I kinda got lost in them. I was/am pretty obsessed with this AU), so I just reeled back a bit and stayed close to the plot. It also simplifies things; I don’t have to rewrite the whole story, which, with my overthinking skills, would take forever. 💀

And that part with Slade making Dick forget who he was is great. I kept the whole AU pretty open with some stuff for imagination. My running idea at the moment is that he got sick when he was 8, so Bruce found the flower, and later Slade kidnapped him, making him forget everything and thinking Slade is his father.

But yeah, OMG, this is awesome. I totally love it. I tried to make it as detailed as possible story-wise, but at the same time, I really needed to limit myself to finish fast because I was scared I would lose interest or don’t have the patience haha But Now I’m kinda even more excited about how people will react to the next chapters. 👀

#ask me anything #tangeld dc au

[arenaofimagination]

Son Heung-min: First Meeting

In the bustling streets of London, where the rhythmic hum of city life echoed through the air, fate orchestrated a meeting between two souls destined to intertwine. Son Heung-min, the South Korean football sensation, found himself in the heart of the vibrant city, preparing for a pivotal match. Meanwhile, S/n, a talented and enigmatic artist, wandered the streets seeking inspiration for her next masterpiece.

It was a crisp autumn afternoon when their paths converged near the iconic Tower Bridge. Son, wearing a Tottenham Hotspur jacket, was taking a leisurely stroll along the Thames River, soaking in the atmosphere of the city that had become his second home. His eyes sparkled with curiosity as he absorbed the blend of cultures and the rich history that surrounded him.

S/n, on the other hand, had set up her easel on a quiet corner overlooking the majestic bridge. The sun cast a warm glow on her as she meticulously captured the essence of the scene before her with every stroke of her brush. Her mind, however, wandered beyond the tangible landmarks, seeking inspiration in the intangible emotions that filled the air.

As Son continued his stroll, he couldn't help but be drawn to the artist immersed in her craft. The vibrant colors on her palette mirrored the kaleidoscope of emotions that London evoked in him. Intrigued, he approached her with a friendly smile.

"Hello," Son greeted with a slight bow, his English accent laced with a touch of Korean warmth. "Your painting is beautiful. May I watch you work?"

S/n looked up, startled by the unexpected visitor. Her eyes met Son's, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. His genuine smile disarmed her, and she couldn't help but return the gesture.

"Of course," she replied, gesturing towards the empty space next to her easel. "Feel free to join me. I find inspiration in the city's energy, and you seem to carry that with you as well."

Son chuckled, settling down beside her. "Football and art, different worlds, but both driven by passion."

As the two engaged in conversation, a unique connection blossomed. Son shared stories of his journey from South Korea to the English Premier League, the challenges he faced, and the triumphs that fueled his determination. S/n, in turn, opened up about her artistic pursuits, the struggles of capturing emotions on canvas, and the ever-elusive quest for inspiration.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows, and Tower Bridge stood as a silent witness to the burgeoning friendship. The duo, seemingly worlds apart, found common ground in their pursuit of excellence and the shared experience of navigating life's unpredictable twists.

As the day unfolded, Son and S/n explored the enchanting streets of London together. From the historic architecture of Westminster to the vibrant energy of Covent Garden, they discovered the city's myriad facets. Son marveled at S/n's ability to see beauty in the ordinary, turning the mundane into masterpieces that resonated with emotion.

In return, S/n attended one of Son's football matches at the iconic Tottenham Hotspur Stadium. The roar of the crowd, the electric atmosphere, and Son's graceful prowess on the field left her awe-inspired. It was a world she had never fully explored, yet through Son's eyes, she gained a newfound appreciation for the artistry in sports.

As days turned into weeks, their bond deepened. Son and S/n became inseparable, sharing dreams, aspirations, and the unspoken understanding that they had found something special in each other. London, with its eclectic charm, had become the backdrop to their evolving story.

One fateful evening, under the starlit sky near the Thames, Son took a deep breath and confessed, "S/n, since the day we met, my world has been brighter. I've found inspiration in the way you see the world, and I can't imagine my life without you in it."

S/n's heart fluttered as she listened to his sincere words. She realized that, in the midst of capturing the city's beauty on canvas, she had unknowingly painted Son into the masterpiece of her life. With a tender smile, she replied, "Son, you've become the muse of my heart. Every moment with you feels like a stroke of serendipity."

And so, against the backdrop of Tower Bridge, with the city lights shimmering in the background, Son Heung-min and S/n embraced a new chapter in their lives. London, a witness to their story, stood as a testament to the magical connections that could be forged in the unlikeliest of places, uniting two souls brought together by fate and fueled by passion.

#son heungmin #tottenham hotspur #korea #son heung min #imagines futebol #imagines #futebol #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader

[heartcereql]

am i the girl that you dream of?

✩ xavier thorpe x f!reader

SYNOPSIS- all over the summer, xavier has been having dreams of a certain girl, who, much to his surprise, arrives at nevermore for the new school year. 

CW- lowercase intended, cursing, bianca and xavier don’t have any history, also divina may be a bit ooc since we didn’t get much of her. 

A/N- i know it doesn’t really follow pretty when i cry (the song i got the prompt from) but i loved how it turned out. sorry in advance, it’s pretty long LMAO. also feel free to send request for wednesday characters! :)

moonlight bathed her features. her eyes glistened, reflecting the stars. hands delicately mused, fingers interwinned, softly caressing the other hand. her chest rose up and down, inhaling midnight air, fueling her lungs with the pure atmosphere that surrounded her figure. 

dreams always felt surreal. but when she was in them? they went beyond that. xavier stretched his hand towards her. slowly, his fingertips grazed her shoulder. and then he saw. 

his vision suddenly flooded with flashing memories. dazzling blue lights, very muffled chattering, hands, lips, figures, were all his senses were taking in.

4:39 AM

xavier woke up covered in sweat once again. the sun wasn’t up yet. dim light from the stars came through his window. 

he hadn’t been thrilled about going home for summer holidays. he thought he’d be staying at ajax’s or be sent to a summer camp. he would’ve liked that. but his father had kept him home. all. fucking. summer. and then the dreams started to appear. the first one, he doesn’t even remember. he just brushed it off. but then they continued appearing. and he found himself enhanced. for almost two months, he’d drawn the girl from his dreams. wether it were only sketches of herwaist, or doodles of herparted lips. he even had an unfinished painting of her moonlit face in a big canvas. anybody who had seen his latest pieces would’ve thought he was a stalker. he was just trapped in his house. it only conforted him  how close the beginning of the new school year was. 

back at nevermore, xavier felt at ease again. getting back on track carried an euphoric feeling for him. settling everything in his dorm, catching up with ajax and rowan, cleaning his art shed, it all gave him a sense of belonging that he wouldn’t change for anything. the dreams even went away.

and, in one of his conversations, he found out. about your arrival. though, at first, he paid no mind to it. ajax had said something about two transfer students incorporating this year.

“yeah, one of them will be here in a couple days. i heard the other’s application is still pending or something like that” rowan added. 

“damn, does everyone know but me?” he said. he meant it as a joke, but, deep down, he was worried he’d been living under a rock the whole summer.

“it’s not that big of a deal” ajax shrugged “but most likely.”

xavier groaned and mentally face-palmed himself. he could’ve checked enid’s blog. idiot. 

✩✩✩✩

meanwhile you were talking to principal larissa weems alongside your parents. the woman before you had an elegant and intimidating beauty and her words came out graceful and confident. 

she’d explained how the school worked, what the classes consisted in and the insitute’s norms. your parents were delighted with weems, relieved she would be in charge of your security and safety. she seemed trustworthy. she inspired comfort, but also discipline and respect. 

“now, now, y/n, it is time for you to meet your roommate and she will give you a tour around school. i’ll leave you sometime with your family to say your goodbyes” weems spoke with a warm smile. 

your parents nodded and thanked her as she escorted you out of her office. 

✩✩✩✩

as you were seeing your parents’ car drive away, a presence approached you. you turned around to meet a girl with chestnut, shoulder lenght hair and pale blue eyes. 

“hey! you must be y/n. i’m divina, your roommate” she gave you an enchanting smile as she offered her hand.

“charmed to meet you” you smiled back as you shook her hands.

“i think your belongings have already been moved into our dorm, so let’s take a look at the school first, shall we?” she asked, linking your arm with hers as you nodded, delighted. 

✩✩✩✩

xavier was working on his latest project very near the quad. it had been half his and half weems’s idea. a mural adorning one of the walls adjacent to the quad. his mind ran free as he painted some details in a crow. 

as he changed some of his used brushes for clean ones, his eyes scanned the quad. some girls chatting in a bench nearby, a group of gorgons in the back of the quad, and then his eyes made their way towards two moving figures. 

was that divina? she indeed was. and she was talking to a girl, who was looking for something in her bag. she was not wearing the uniform. she must have been one of the transfers. xavier stopped whatever he was doing to take a proper look at the pair. 

as the new girl found what she was looking for, her face now exposed, xavier realised. it was you. the girl he’d been dreaming of all summer. too shocked to react, he could only watch you walk away towards thelxiepeia hall. 

✩✩✩✩

september passed by faster than everyone had wanted. 

you and divina had become quite close and she’d introduced you to bianca, yoko, enid and kent. you’d even thrown a slumber party at your shared dorm; the girls helped you settle in and decorate your side.

xavier, on the other hand, had been thinking of how to approach you, if he even should. he hadn’t wanted to be affected by it, not wanting to start the neverending cycle this past summer had been, filled with incognitas about you. but the dreams came back. and they were different. you actually spoke to him in this new dreams. nothing that he could comprehend though. sometimes you spoke in unsolveable riddles, sometimes in a language he couldn’t understand. 

“it is time for you to make the very first project of this semester” professor Cross, horror literature’s teacher anounced, earning a groan from all the students. “it could’ve been an exam, no need to be so dramatic. the couples assigned and the book assigned for each are displayed on the classroom door. have nice evenings!” and with that, he vanished from the class. 

you and bianca made your way towards the door. she was the only one from your friend group who had horror literature in this period. 

“i’m up here and you, oh here!” she pointed at your names.

she got paired with a girl named iris. your name was written nexto to ‘xavier thorpe’. 

“it’s perfect that i got Lovecraft. i mean, i’ve loved him since i was merely in the womb. i spent all summer reading-” bianca was rambling about lovecraft before you interrupted her.

“hey, b, who is xavier thorpe?” you asked her, fidgeting with a sticky note in which you’d written his name along with ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’. 

“you know that kid who’s painting a mural in the quad? that’s him. i think he’s super good at literature , so you’re gonna ace this” she responded, walking you to the quad.

as you and her were about to start a conversation as to which outfit you should choose for your girls’ evening out, someone catched up to you. 

“hey, you’re y/n, right?” a tall boy, with sharp features and long hair, asked, locking eyes with you.

you felt a sensation of déjà vu run through you as you could only nod, enhanced by his figure. 

“i’m xavier” the boy smiled. “we are partners for this project, so, um, maybe you want to schedule for some days to work on it?”

“sure, sure” you reciprocated the smile, taking in the way his made you feel. “i’ll catch you later, bi” you said to your friend as she nodded and walked away. 

“so, uh, when are you free?” he asked as you turned back to him. “for the project, i mean”

“i think i have this afternoon free, and next one as well, if it works for you” you spoke.

you sounded exactly like what he’d dreamt. your silk soft voice reverberating in his ears, sending goosebumps down his body.

“sounds perfect. library, 4pm?” xavier said, observing your features in the sun, rather than the moonlight, admiring you. not a product of his imagination. just you. 

✩✩✩✩

xavier got to the library at the very time he’d told you. scanning the place, he finally found your figure. your bag was placed in a chair, and you were browsing through the shelves, looking for some books. 

“hey” he greeted. 

words caught up in your throat when you looked at him. he loved the way your eyes fluttered around, finally settling down on his.

“hi” you responded. “so. i’ve been collecting a few books about poe, you know, so we can make a deep analysis on the piece”

“cool, cool. i feel like the old man has a lot of connotations-” he started.

“wait you’ve read the tell-tale heart?” you asked, smiling. you loved poe’s works.

“yeah, everyone should” he chuckled. “i find poe inspiring. all of his horror pieces itch all the right places in my brain” he shrugged, licking his lips.

“i love poe too. i went to a summer camp this summer about him and it wa...” 

xavier let your words run through his mind as he focused on your excited expression, talking about something you were so keen on.

both of you sat now next to each other, rambling about nonsense, enjoying the other’s company, your assignment long forgotten. 

✩✩✩✩

and so the two of you had to meet again the next day and over the weekend, rushing your assignment.

but neither of you minded it. you grew closer, learning about each other. xavier found out about your passion for astronomy and your connection to the night. and you learnt about his relationship with his dad and his coping mechanism: painting. you’d even seen some of them, and you were captivated by them.

 he showed you his ability and he’d swear your reaction was his favorite thing ever. how your eyes widened in suprise, lips parted slightly, an amazed smile making its way.

and he told you about his visions. he trusted you enough. 

✩✩✩✩

“and, you know, sometimes i have dreams, but they’re real. the people, the creatures are real” he said, almost a whisper. 

you two were walking around the school’s surroundings, october’s cold breeze hitting your rosy cheeks. 

“like visions?” you asked

“sort of. the scenarios are barely real, but the people i see are. and lately, this girl has been appearing”

“is she a sleep nymph? i heard of them once, they’re pretty cool” he could feel your eyes piercing him as he looked forward.

“no, no, i don’t think she is. at first i thought she was just something i imagined, but then i saw her” he looked down at you as he spoke. 

“what were your dreams like?” you softly posed the question.

“i saw her, laying down under the stars. i could only see her in a blue palette. and then, i saw her memories. and i just can’t get her out of my head” 

you went quiet. he feared he’d scared you, and he was about to start rambling apologies when you stopped walking and took his hand. 

“xavier?” you looked up at him “am i the girl that you dream of?”

his heart skipped a beat. he wanted the ground to swallow him. he couldn’t scape.

“how’d you know?”

“i’ve been seeing you too. in the stars.”

he stared at you blankly. so he hadn’t creeped you out. he finally reacted, smirking.

his hands made his way to your face, holding your cold cheeks. you looked up at him, hands around his neck. he wanted that moment, that sight to last forever.

he leaned down and kissed you for an instant. he pulled away, just to watch your features before you pulled him down and kissed him again, loving the feeling of his lips on yours, like they were made for each other. 

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe imagine #heartcereql

[unichrome]

AI and the value of labour (but only if it's yours)

Few of you have missed the whole AI/AI-art/ChatGPT-debate by now and even though few have the technical literacy to actually know what it is and its implementations, it hasn't stopped people from having opinions on it, and wow they sure are Opinions. It's mainly about how it's art-theft and will put already struggling artists out of business because now there's a chance that their dandelion found in a deviantart furry artwork they made using GIMP once will now be seen made sort of in the same style on a 250x250 pixel generated picture from a free online generator. And now I'm going to be snarky about it but also highlight a problem seen from the other end of this - the value of labour, and I'm not talking about the artists labour here.

But first let's look back a little bit for some well-needed perspective:

The logic for this is nothing we haven't seen before; you can't copy art and have it made available for just everyone to use like this! In the early 2000's it put musicians out of business and destroyed music forever with the introduction of napster. Pirate bay is why movies no longer are being made. It has destroyed art as we know it when people tauntingly right-clicked on a cryptobro's NFT and clicked "save as" (which I assume is also very problematic for the people who are vehemently against AI art? It's a literal 1-to-1 copy of your work). Media corporations are dying because intellectual properties are no longer protected under the copyright laws after 70 or so years. In the 90's there was even some video star who literally murdered a radio star. With the introduction of vinyl, it even killed live music forever.

So technology has been destroying just about all forms of art as we know it for a while now and each time it's the same doomsday predictions from the newly formed kind of art-christianity where some art has soul (Good, Skilled Laboured artists) and others hasn't (Evil, of course).

Now for the informative part of the post:

In the 1970's, computers as we know them today began forming, and with it, the value of a computer programmers skill and labour. Alongside with this, they saw a growing problem: Corporations owned everything they made, and corporations will also have the whole say about what will be present on a computer and the price of everything present on it.

This was not very appreciated by neither the programmers, and nor the customers (although few saw this growing problem coming). So in a weird twist of fate, programmers became one of the most left-wing labour-rights occupation you could find by forming Free Software Foundation, GNU, and essentially setting the stage for you to be able to use the free GIMP software instead of buying a staggering price for Adobe's Photoshop. It enabled you to download firefox instead of buying a copy of internet explorer. Because yes, before this kind of software activism formed, and the general environment of software development became to make it as freely available as possible - and having an outright despise for corporations like Novell and Microsoft for taking such huge amount of money to their own pockets instead of the developers, literally every piece of software cost money. A LOT of money.

This kind of 100% for free software usage we're used to has also led to us no longer being appreciative of the work and skill that goes behind keeping a software not only developed and updated continuously for decades, but also spending money on keeping it hosted and delivered to you for free. We even joke and scoff about the mere thought of having to pay 0.99 Euro for an app we'd use daily and a developer spent 2 years in the making. Meanwhile, when someone offers to pay someone merely 10 euro or so for a handmade blanket, there's an outrage about the value of labour and skill. And rightfully so! I support that, and so should you, even if it's labour that you weren't the one making.

And it doesn't end there either - we all know corporations has no trouble finding new ways to charge you money. Organisations like Free Software Foundation, various Linux projects and Mozilla have campaigned for a freer usage in general, leading to fair-use laws, campaigning for the right to repair your technology instead of having to buy new one all the time, as well as preventing corporations from banning every other piece of software on a computer that they don't want you to have (from a competitor or free alternative of their software).

I mentioned Adobe specifically, because in the wave of anti-AI-art outcry, artists are campaigning for a ban on making software that uses other peoples artistic similarities (not copies mind you, similarities, meaning making it a copyright infringement to have art that is similar to yours, since that's what AI-art algorithms create), and I'm sure right off the bat many of you can see the huge problem with that, but Adobe sure isn't. They're also gladly in on this, because that would mean that free alternatives of Photoshop like GIMP would also become a copyright infringement. So would a lot of our other free software we use daily and take for granted.

That's all I wanted to say about this I think. The TL;DR version is basically to value labour even if it isn't yours, and to not take it for granted. As a final part to remember about AI is that it is a tool, and like any tool it can be used for good or evil. AI is what made it possible for us to make sense of the large hadron collider data and made enormous leaps in scientific discovery in just a few years, that would otherwise had taken 500 years to sort through by humans, and with a much higher rate of error.

#datatag #AI #computer science #labour #copyright

[soleminisanction]

Y'know, this answer deserves its own post. @tardigradetheking

They story they're telling seems pretty obvious to me:

Mickey Mxyzptlk, an entitled manbaby comic book fan who hates modern continuity and wishes things would go back to the way they were when he was a kid, traps (what he considers to be) the "real" Young Justice (only the boys, no girls allowed) in his idea of what their original adventures were like. Cassie, being ignored by the sexist twat, winds up being his undoing as she works to free her friends from the outside with the help of the rest of the original team.

That's the elevator pitch, the logline. I say the rest of the old team because I suspect Greta would have also been involved, had the Stargirl Spring Break Special not already set her up as being slated for the Lost Children. The Devil, of course, is in the details:

Mickey's idea of the boys' adventures are heavily skewed by his own biases which he, like the comic book bros on Reddit and Twitter, insist were part of those stories even when they weren't. Hence the exaggerated sexism, racism and homophobia.

He's also trying to reset the YJ boys back to who they were specifically in the early issues of Young Justice, ignoring all the growth and change -- both positive and negative -- that's happened to them since. Again, reflecting attitudes from entitled fans on social media, including here on Tumblr -- look at how many people care more about Cassie's fucking hair than her personality or experiences.

Kon slips into this illusion more easily than the others because he's adrift in the current timeline, without a place for himself -- his whole upcoming miniseries is already set to be about him figuring that out, but for now he's lost, and the future he always expected to be waiting for him -- being Superman -- has been given to someone else. Of course he wants to stay in the time when he never had to grow up and the future was full of possibilities. The more he lets himself give in, the more his mind slips into that kinda asshole bro sentiment -- which, let's face it, he had more than a trace of in the 90s.

Bart, meanwhile, is naturally resistant to this sort of thing partially because of his particular power set and partially because, despite all he's gone through, he's ultimately still the guy who goes with the flow, rolls with the punches, and accepts things the way they are. Whereas Tim is somewhat susceptible to slipping back into when things were easier, when he could just be Robin and hang out with his friends and never had to bury any of them, but gets jarred out of it when the reality tries to forcibly reset the recent changes that have made him happiest.

These differing attitudes result in conflict and naturally dredge up a bunch of drama related to those past changes that they haven't talked about. Cassie's having similar encounters with Cissie because they're using the fact that Cissie is no longer a superhero as a reflection of Cassie and the boys all being on the wrong pages with one another. Which they are, because they're literally not on the same page anymore -- it's been ages since their canon selves have truly shared experiences, they've all been off doing their own things with their respective "families," and they no longer know where the others are coming from. But with each conflict, they're baring... well, conflict, things that have gone unspoken between them. Now that those things are spoken, they can be resolved.

It's not a perfect story. The art is definitely a little hit or miss (pro tip: blame the artist and the editor for not knowing which Bedlam to cameo, not the writer), the pacing feels a bit rushed and (speaking of Bedlam) the whole story would've been stronger if they used him as the villain instead of a new character no one's ever heard of. But that last part is kinda par for the course at DC right now.

Otherwise, the story's pretty straightforward. It's meta, it's criticism, and they're pretty bold to critique their fandom so blatantly, but there's nothing confusing about it.

#young justice dark crisis #young justice #dark crisis #meta #tim drake #kon-el #bart allen #mickey mxyzptlk

[crime-soncloud]

good whatever time of day it is for you, shin'ei understander

care to discuss him? *clasping hands together excitedly*

I'm happy to see that you resonated with my interpretation of him, I think he's undeniably one of, if not the most, nuanced and interesting parent figures. I'll be touching everything currently released on JP, using a translation for the most recent Ena event

So firstly, he is not as bad as Mafumom. This isn't a high bar, but it is clear to see that he is very different, and this is from one key difference: he never makes Ena do something, he advises her to not pursue art, something I'll develop later, but he ultimately lets her make mistakes, lets her create art, and eventually supports her in her goal. Meanwhile Mafuyu's mother makes decisions to stop mafuyu making music, stops her from talking to her friends, and does not take anything anyone else says into consideration, once again unlike Shinei who does, who listens to Akito about being too harsh and taking steps to improve. Mafumom disregards Kanade, and does not have Mafuyu's best interests at heart, Shinei does.

From the most recent event, we learn a lot about him. Shinei was in a state of depression, essentially, unable to be successful and convey his feelings at the same time. People didn't understand him, and he felt as though he didn't achieve anything, he almost quit art completely. However, Ena being born saved him, no other way to phrase it. He cares about her more than anything, he describes her as "a light" and created one more painting, a peony, that Ena recognises as being a spark of light among the dark of the rest of the paintings. This painting, and Ena, gave him confidence to continue painting. He said that he couldn't live without art, and kept going for Ena. This is, without doubt, one of the most selfless and truly noble motivations a character has in the game, fully living and working for others.

However, here is where it gets difficult. Ena starts to make art herself, and wants to be an artist, but when she tells him, he ultimately cares for her. and in his eyes, the best thing to do is to try and dissuade her from this life, he has seen how difficult it is for people, seen how people won't understand, won't be kind, and so says that she doesn't have what it takes, and wouldn't gain recognition. This is not received well, understandably, but This could be said that they both struggled with understanding the other and communicating, and so Shinei ultimately hurt her more than he helped. He didn't understand how he hurt her, and she didn't understand what he meant, but her feelings were still the same.

So when he tells her that she has to get used to the repeated sting of failure, and will have to work hard, he is genuinely trying to help, to lessen her pain, but he doesn't understand what is wanted. And so, when Akito confronts him, Shinei seems to take it, and when he next sees her he critiques it fairly, trying to both compliment it and give feedback.

Throughout this, we can see clearly that he, while being poor at communicating or understanding what Ena needs, genuinely does care for her, arguably making him better than most of the parents we see. I think we'll see him in more Akito and Ena events to develop his relationship with them, and how he is improving. He's the biggest example of an NPC that truly has changed and improved himself. I find he is an often misinterpreted character, but an interesting one. Thanks for asking this and feel free to add more to this

#project sekai #pjsk analysis #ena shinonome #shinei Shinonome

[kellyvela]

Someone is still mad about this post:

What happens with certain shippers (Jon/aunty & Jon/fave sister) and Justin Sweet's asoiaf artworks???

First they claimed that Justin Sweet's renditions of Joshua York & Jon Snow hanging next to each other in GRRM's home office confirms that Jon/aunty are true everlasting love; and now, apparently, Justin Sweet's renditions of "black haired" Stark women in the 2024 Asoiaf Calendar confirms that The Rose of Winterfell has nothing to do with Sansa Stark and her mother Catelyn. All because they are still mad that the The Rose of Winterfell is depicted as a redhead, very similar to Sansa and Catelyn in the A Clash of Kings Graphic Novel.

Fave sister stans now sound like cujo stans with the "l would like to remind you that these drawings were selected by GRRM." They all like too much to make up narratives to support their ships . . . .

Meanwhile GRRM & the artists involved in Asoiaf artwork:

"I have absolutely no control over the covers of my books"

[Source]

~~~

"That's cover art, not an actual Targaryen banner"

 [Source]

~~~

"I’m perfectly willing to let the artist do different interpretations"

Q: You have a very distinct idea of what the characters look like in your own head, because readers will always take their own? GRRM: I do have ideas of what the characters look like in my own head but I’m perfectly willing to let the artist do different interpretations… You know, let different artists present their different interpretations of it, I’m fine with that. It’s not photography, so I love the idea of, you know, letting people use their own creativity within limits of course, but I love some of the works, many of the works I’ve bought original is hanging on, you know, on my own walls so…   —In conversation: George R. R. Martin with John Hodgman FULL EVENT

~~~

"It's a suggestion-consultation process but by no means is it any type of approval"

—An Exclusive Interview with George R.R. Martin - A Game of Thrones Deluxe Limited Edition - Role-Playing Game and Resource Book [Source]

~~~

"For the most part, Gianni was free to render characters and scenes as he wished."

—Art of Gary Gianni for George R. R. Martin’s Seven Kingdoms [Source]

~~~

"The creative team behind it showed remarkable trust and creative freedom with me"

I’m hugely grateful for the opportunity. The creative team behind it showed remarkable trust and creative freedom with me, something that’s rarer than I’d like to admit in this industry. It’s been a huge level up amongst a year of extreme personal stresses. —Sam Hogg, 2021 ASoIF Calendar illustrator [Source]

~~~

So much for "l would like to remind you that these drawings were selected by GRRM"

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You can reed more about Asoiaf Artworks and Creative Freedom here:

~~~

And now you may argue that if the Book Covers, Book Illustrations and Calendar Illustrations are not canon, then the illustrations in the Graphic Novels are not canon either. Well, I covered that subject in this post:

Thanks for reading :)

UPDATE:

GRRM talking about Graphic Novels illustrations:

"I just carefully reviewed all the dialogues and drawings to make sure that no mistake or inaccuracy crept in anywhere."

A series of comics based on your story "The Hedge Knight" has recently been released. Are you satisfied with its implementation? Are there any plans to make comics based on your other works? The proposal to create a comic book based on The Hedge Knight did not come from me, but from the publisher. I was contacted, showed some preliminary sketches, which didn't impress me. But the guys were persistent and did not give up: they continued to search for a suitable artist until they settled on Michael S. Miller. In the end, he did his job just perfectly. Michael was very cool, in my opinion, was able to convey the inner essence of the characters through their appearance - that's exactly how I imagined them when I wrote the story. My participation in the project was minimal: I just carefully reviewed all the dialogues and drawings to make sure that no mistake or inaccuracy crept in anywhere. Now we are discussing the creation of a sequel based on the second part of the adventures of Dunk, published in the collection "Legends 2". It will most likely be made in the same six-comic series format as Knight of the Hedge. We also discussed the possibility of creating comics based on the Canto novels themselves. But given the size of my books, this would require a really massive series. I'm not sure that we are ready for such a grandiose project. —Mir Fantastiki - 2006 - Google translation from the source in Russian:

~~~

Told you!

#asoiaf #asoiaf graphic novels #asoiaf calendars #asoiaf artworks #grrm #the rose of winterfell

[cleolinda]

Varney the Vampire: Chapter 4

Chapter 3: Blood everywhere; a lightswitch rave.

Chapter 4: Originally posted on Livejournal, December 8, 2010. Revised and expanded from the original recap to talk more about literary vampiring.

CHAPTER IV.

THE MORNING. -- THE CONSULTATION. -- THE FEARFUL SUGGESTION.

No, I didn't skip it—there wasn't any "offer of assistance from Sir Francis Varney" in the previous chapter. Not even so much as an apologetic plate of cookies left on the garden wall. Was there any revision involved in writing this, or did James Malcolm Rymer just... put the pen to the paper and wait for the check? Not that I don't feel you, my guy, but "I'm just gonna seat-of-my-pants 667,000 words" is a terrifying prospect (I had thought he'd at least write each chapter once and then revise it to be worse). I'm pretty sure I've put more revision into this blog post, for free. Side note, my man James Malcolm:

What wonderfully different impressions and feelings, with regard to the same circumstances, come across the mind in the broad, clear, and beautiful light of day to what haunt the imagination, and often render the judgment almost incapable of action, when the heavy shadow of night is upon all things. There must be a downright physical reason for this effect -- it is so remarkable and so universal. It seems that the sun's rays so completely alter and modify the constitution of the atmosphere, that it produces, as we inhale it, a wonderfully different effect upon the nerves of the human subject. We can account for this phenomenon in no other way. Perhaps never in his life had he, Henry Bannerworth, felt so strongly this transition of feeling as he now felt it, when the beautiful daylight gradually dawned upon him, as he kept his lonely watch by the bedside of his slumbering sister.

Bram Stoker:

No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be. When the sun grew so high this morning that it struck the top of the great gateway opposite my window, the high spot which it touched seemed to me as if the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as if it had been a vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth.

I'm not pointing this out to say that Stoker did or did not Steal Like An Artist from, perhaps, a collected serial he read in his boyhood, and then wrote it better. Honestly, if he did? Good for him. I'm pointing this out to say, I only have one short life to live, and for some reason, I decided to spend it reading this.

So. In the light of day, Henry finally looks over at the spooky portrait and thinks to himself, you know, that right there is a Spooky Portrait and it gives me a scare:

He tried to keep himself from looking at it, but he found it vain, so he adopted what, perhaps, was certainly the wisest, best plan, namely, to look at it continually.

I don't know why this makes me laugh so much. Sure, that's a plan. And, Henry notes, it's even one of those paintings where the eyes follow you around the room. Maybe we should, you know, take it down. And then he goes, eh. It's a rare work of art, it's painted onto the panel and we'd have to call a contractor out here, we were out all night watching that vampyre fall on his ass, I'm kind of tired, whatevs.

Meanwhile, Flora is still (quite reasonably) traumatized: "My brain is on fire! A million of strange eyes seem to be gazing on me." Like, I'm not actually trying to compare this sentence by sentence (god forbid) to Dracula, but I know it well enough that I remember Jonathan using the same "brain on fire" wording—how common an expression was this? I even went back to check Polidori's "The Vampyre"—"his thoughts were bursting from his brain," an oddly specific throughline of brain-centric disturbance. Just Vampyre Things, I guess.

Despite having chased the vampyre to his own garden wall, Henry is utterly baffled as to why Flora would be so upset—physically weakened, even! She was fine yesterday! What, oh what, could have happened??, he inquires of Mr. Marchdale. Henry is probably saying this while a housekeeper bustles past with a huge bundle of blood-soaked sheets. What do we think was in Flora's room, even though we all saw it gnawing on her throat and we're pretty sure what it was? I mean, we just saw someone making a hideous repast of her, I am completely baffled. But wait! says Marchdale. I've thought of an answer! Now—hold on for this— (I'm holding on—) Because this is gonna blow your mind— (Okay, keep going—) Are you ready for this? (I'm totally ready for this—) I think it was—I can hardly bring myself to say the word aloud and will continue not to say it for another 100 words— (SAY IT GODDAMMIT—) A VAMPYRE!

Well, why do you think this?

"... my pistol bullets hurt him not; and he has left the tokens of his presence on the neck of Flora." "Peace, oh! peace. Do not, I pray you, accumulate reasons why I should receive such a dismal, awful superstition. Oh, do not, Marchdale, as you love me!" "You know my attachment to you," said Marchdale, "is sincere; and yet, Heaven help us!" His voice was broken by grief as he spoke, and he turned aside his head to hide the bursting tears that would, despite all his efforts, show themselves in his eyes.

For shame, Henry, you made your mom's... someone... cry! (Don't get me wrong, I love Weepy Masculinity, and we'll talk about it more another time.) But Henry is shocked, I tell you, shocked! that Marchdale should come to such a conclusion! To believe would drive him mad, I tell you! MAAAAAAAAD!

And then George comes in all like, "Guys, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but—hold on for this—I think it was a—" "VAMPYRE, WE KNOW." And now George the "frail reed" is crying, Henry, see what you've done?

Unfortunately, Henry is pretty much the only person in a hundred-mile radius who is having trouble with this concept; the servants, we are told, immediately ran out and told everyone about the vampyre flumping over the garden wall. Henry rides into town to fetch a doctor and immediately runs into Some Gentleguy on Horseback. "Bro, what's this about your sister getting bit by a vampyre?" "Uh... no. That was... a thief. That was totally a thief." "No? Seriously, the whole town's talking about it. You sure? Like fang marks and everything—" "MAAAAAD, I TELL YOUUUUU!!"

At last Henry gets to the doctor—who starts out as "Mr. Chillingworth" and mysteriously becomes "Dr. Chillingworth" some five hundred pages from now. (In fairness, many doctors, particularly surgeons, were merely "Mister" long into the nineteenth century. Side note: The Scarlet Letter would not be published until 1850, and on a different continent at that. I checked, because I immediately thought the name was an allusion.) So Mr. Dr. Chillingworth listens to Henry's story, and I'm getting all clappy because this has got to be our Van Helsing figure, and I have always loved the Kindly Old Doctor Who Knows All the Legends type, and so Henry finishes and Chillingworth declares—

"I don't care if [the facts] were ten times more glaring, I won't believe it. I would rather believe you were all mad, the whole family of you -- that at the full of the moon you all were a little cracked."

(*record needle scratch*)

Well, Stoker certainly didn't run off with that.

So Henry gets back to Bannerworth Hall and he starts telling Flora that it was totally a thief who was chewing on her throat. Totally. But he'll just keep sitting by her bedside. You know. Just in case more thieving is a-fang.

"Then I shall rest in peace, for I know that the dreadful vampyre cannot come to me when you are by." "The what, Flora?" "The vampyre, Henry. It was a vampyre." "Good God, who told you so?"

She was… there? The holes in her neck? Keep up? Maybe Henry has that Memento thing where he can't remember anything for longer than five minutes, which—well, that would explain a lot about the writing style, actually. Flora replies,

"No one. I have read of them in the book of travels in Norway, which Mr. Marchdale lent us all."

So--a møøse bit his sister?

"They do say, too, that those who in life have been bled by a vampyre, become themselves vampyres, and have the same horrible taste for blood as those before them. Is it not horrible?"

For those of you keeping score, in-story popular belief at this point is that it takes only one bite to turn you into a vampire. This is contradicted later, because of course it is, but it's worth noting; it fits with the idea that the less sexually permissive a society/era is, the more easily you get punished by the contagion. You'd think, then, that this bodes ill for Flora, but as far as I know, either Flora has a Purity Override, or fuck continuity, that's what.

Enter Mr. Dr. Chillingworth, who wants to know about Flora's "dream." "It wasn't a dream, it was a vampyre!" "Is that what you call a dream?" NO, IT'S WHAT I CALL A VAMPYRE. She shows him the bites on her neck, and he's all, pshhhh, those, those are totally insect bites. You know, giant seven-foot insects with scratchy fingernails and hypnotic tin eyes. Bit of Raid's all you need, take care of that in a jiff.

Chillingworth and Henry say nothing in particular for 300 words, at the end of which Chillingworth finally declares that vampyres are "a degrading superstition," and that Flora seems to be "labouring under the effect of some narcotic." You know, those narcotics you staple into people's necks, leaving two (2) holes. Or: blood loss, but that's far less likely, in his medical opinion, so he's just confused now.

"You have, of course, heard something," said Henry to the doctor, as he was pulling on his gloves, "about vampyres."

"I certainly have, and I understand that in some countries, particularly Norway and Sweden, the superstition is a very common one."

And he thinks Let the Right One In was much better than the remake.

WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT?

I don't know why I didn't mention this in 2010, but I'm guessing Henry is referring to the Old Norse draugr—like, I know there are Scandinavian vampires, it's just that... I've never seen English-language vampire literature of the 1800s mention them? LeFanu mentions "Upper and Lower Styria, in Moravia, Silesia, in Turkish Serbia, in Poland, even in Russia" in "Carmilla" (1872), and Andrew Lang wasn't talking about draugr until late 1897, "with the idea further pursued by more modern commentators." Polidori's "Ruthven" is a Scottish name, and its bearer goes vampiring in Greece, for that matter. In fact, when Henry chimes in, "And in the Levant," Rymer may be alluding to Polidori. But he just throws "Norwegian vampires" in like, well, obviously. What, haven't you read Grettis saga Ásmundarsonar, published in English, uh, twenty years from now?

However Rymer came by this, whatever travelogue he did read, the draugr doesn't seem to have caught on quite the way Dracula, or even Ruthven, did. Who knows, maybe "Transylvanian vampires" sounded equally random in 1897, but that's the lore that won pop culture.

Mr. Dr. Chillingworth also mentions "the ghouls of the Mahometans." The word "ghoul" comes directly from the Arabic word ghūl, which is "associated with graveyards and the consumption of human flesh," although the concept seems to be pre-Islamic Arabian, not specifically "Mahometan" (i.e., Mohammedan, an archaic or even offensive term; TIL). Rymer would have known the word from the influential 1786 Gothic-Orientalist novel Vathek, and may have even used it here as a specific callback, because it would be a shame to just go on and have a vampyre without blaming it on Those Foreigners. Chillingworth continues,

"All that I have heard of the European vampyre has made it a being which can be killed, but is restored to life again by the rays of a full moon falling on the body."

Here we go. It's worth noting here (no, I swear it is) that the idea of sunlight instantly killing vampires is a complete invention of the German film Nosferatu (1922), an "unauthorized adaptation" of Dracula. I love bringing this up as often as possible, because Dracula being slain by a convenient blast of light (Horror of Dracula, 1958, reporting for duty) is such a deeply ingrained pop-culture thing, and it is 10,000% not in the original novel. Which all you Dracula Daily regulars know, I'm sure. Stoker plays as loose with his Vampire Rules as Rymer does, but Dracula does appear in daylight at least twice that I can remember off the top of my head, although it's said to weaken him. I feel like the functional point of this is to have Any Time At All When The Heroes Have A Shot In Hell At Not Getting Eaten, and so this is why the literary vampire of the 1800s sometimes has to scamper off to its coffin at the stroke of dawn. Carmilla has to do this, but she also strolls back to Laura's house at... one in the afternoon; clearly, sunlight is not terribly crucial to the lore. Rather, it's moonlight that's associated with vampires earlier in the century—as a means of reviving them. It's actually a key plot point in Polidori's "The Vampyre" (back in 1819), and one of the stand-out elements in the popular awareness of vampires at the time.

Oh! By the way, tonight happens to be the night of the full moon. Even Chillingworth says, "If now you had succeeded in killing —. Pshaw, what am I saying."

"To-night," [Henry] repeated, "is the full of the moon. How strange that this dreadful adventure should have taken place just the night before."

Indeed. And the serial really wants us to notice this. You'd think a vampyre might avoid a bright night when they'd be more likely to be seen, but, on the other hand, maybe that's Moon Insurance in case they get capped on someone's garden wall. To confirm, Henry gets Travels in Norway off the bookshelf, and—after a thorough, paid-by-the-word description of how books sometimes open at certain pages, right down to the way the binding gets stretched—

"With regard to these vampyres, it is believed by those who are inclined to give credence to so dreadful a superstition, that they always endeavour to make their feast of blood, for the revival of their bodily powers, on some evening immediately preceding a full moon, because if any accident befall them, such as being shot, or otherwise killed or wounded, they can recover by lying down somewhere where the full moon's rays will fall on them."

There it is. Since we're going chapter by chapter, it's easy to lose sight of the big picture, but what I think the serial is getting at is, Varney probably is "dead" somewhere on the heathy landscape after getting his hapless ass shot. Except—EXCEPT! for the moonlight that just so happens to be in place to revive him. Because, while the FULL MOON. IT'S A FULL MOON might seem kind of randomly gothic to us, everyone reading this in 1847 would have been chortling in anticipation.

(Chapter 5 will go up on Friday, March 24.)

#vampires #varney the vampire #long post #just vampyre things #vampire studies

[calicheer-cove]

90s Community College Art Class au!

Billy needs to make a little extra money, he sees a flyer posted on the town’s bulletin board. A community college is looking for adults to be life models, no previous experience needed. The professor, an older woman dressed like the 1960s never went away, lets him know what to expect for the semester. He needs to arrive before the students and he’s also free to pick a costume and/or prop.

He slyly asks her if he can be nude, to which the professor answers, “That won’t be until later on in the semester, Mr. Hargrove.”

“Well I figured that as a model, I can… present my best work,” he remarks, his smirk still evident.

The experienced educator continues, “Billy, art isn’t just about nudity. It’s about learning the fundamentals. Observing form and lines, understanding perspective, and studying anatomy and structure.” She hands him the syllabus, “Please make sure to look over the syllabus, I expect you to be prepared for each session.”

That was the last thing that he expected someone like her to say. He figured that she would talk about being free and creative. Either way, he’s got the job and he’ll be compensated for his time.

Billy comes in early, dressed in a nice button up shirt, blue jeans, and combat boots; hair beautifully quaffed. He checks out the incredible work that past students have created. So many different methods, medias, and techniques. The most he can do is create a stick figure and a cartoon skull with a pen. Billy steps into the classroom and the professor shows him around. As the students come in, his heart sinks when he sees a familiar face.

Chrissy Cunningham is well prepared with her supplies. She’s traded in her pastels for comfy overalls and a plaid shirt. Her bangs are long gone, her dyed blonde hair sits along her shoulders. She’s wearing dark platforms with painted on shapes along the sides. She gulps when their eyes meet, quickly finding her seat. Billy isn’t shy about showing his body, but seeing Chrissy (someone that he had a crush on but refused to admit) makes him feel self conscious. Meanwhile Chrissy (who had a crush on him and refused to admit) is going to see him throughout the semester and in different states of undress.

#calicheer #chrissy cunningham #billy hargrove #billy x chrissy #chrissy x billy #calicheer blurb #calicheer au #calicheer au! #90s calicheer #no i don’t know what the standards are for life modeling #i just want to have fun with this idea #cunninggrove #cunningrove

[jitterbugjive]

For people claiming I exploited young artists to draw for me for free on collaborative projects, you have to understand something. When I was a teenager, I did a LOT of collaborations where an adult friend would write a story, and I’d draw it as we both worked on the story together. These were fun for me, but ultimately never really went anywhere because I couldn’t stay dedicated to the projects. The writers would never contribute anything art-wise to the project, they just wrote a script and I drew it. Or we both wrote the script together and I drew it. I never really saw this as exploitative because we were both enjoying the projects, we both wanted to put them out into the world, and when I stopped they never pressured me to continue.

Meanwhile when I collaborated with people, I would work with them on the story, and I would contribute to the art in some way, be it sketching, inking, or coloring. This, as I understood it, was a fair collaboration where both parties were interested in putting out a product together and having fun doing so. I didn’t pressure anyone to continue if they weren’t interested in working on it any more or didn’t have the time to do it.

As I understand it, this is generally how collaborations go. It’s NOT remotely the same thing as me saying “Hey, draw MY personal idea for free and I’ll give you exposure”

I’m sorry if people ultimately feel used from it, it wasn’t my intention to exploit anyone. I was approached in both cases and asked by the young artists if I’d collaborate with them, and I thought it would be fun for both of us. That’s all it was. There’s a lot of bitterness about this and I understand where it can feel like being exploited, but my intentions were not to take advantage of anyone. I just wanted to have fun with people I considered friends in the way I understood it, growing up and being a child who worked on projects in a similar way. Maybe I was being taken advantage of, I don’t know, all I know is I was having fun and I’m still proud of the work I did even if I don’t want to associate with some of those people any more.

I won’t be doing anything like this again with minors, or probably with anyone, other than what I’m doing with Discord Whooves right now where again, people came to me asking if they could help draw for it, and I was really hesitant at first until I said it was fine and I asked for help. I give credit and lots of appreciation to anyone who does help, but this is through volunteering, not me approaching other people personally to do it for me.

I just feel like someone is really twisting up my actions and putting them wildly out of context, and people are refusing to understand where I was coming from here.

#drama #vent

[wordsofhoneydew]

hi everyone!

i’m kore (20, she/they)

writer on ao3 as wordsofhoneydew

this is a list of all my fics/poetry/wip/art, recs and playlists! feel free to dm me for any questions or prompts you want me to write!

my fanart 🤍

poetry blog: @wordsofkore

Cups , into my moon, the way i imagine it is like this

my fics:

i became your device to name and soothe [E, 4k] Junora

Chapter One - June

What are the chances? [E, 2.3k] Junora

“Are you sure this is going to work?” June asks shakily. Her hands are tied to the bed frame positioned on either side of her head, meanwhile Nora is kneeling before her and between her spread legs, wearing nothing but a pink lace thong—June’s favorite.

Nora’s smile turns into a wicked grin. “Of course I'm sure.” There’s a certainty in her voice as she runs her fingertips along June’s thighs, making her shiver.

June swallows thickly, arousal mixed with anticipation settling heavily in the pit of her stomach as Nora continues to leave light touches along her inner thigh. “What are the chances again?”

your body comes back to me in dreams [E, 518]

henry has a wet dream.

stolen glances with a string attached [T, 6.8k] Playlist

Henry’s eyes widen, his body tensing up in sheer humiliation. That’s when he sees a sly smirk make its way to the man’s lips, and it only makes the embarrassment course through his body more rapidly, feeling all the blood rush to his cheeks. The man then spins around in his office chair, reaching for what looks to be a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbles on it for a swift moment before pressing the paper up against his office window. The paper reads, “TAKE A PIC,” written in sloppy, bubble-like handwriting just barely legible enough for Henry to read. The man grabs another paper and writes for a moment longer, this time reading, “JK” with a winky face. Henry cocks an inquisitive eyebrow in his direction, the embarrassment slowly morphing into curiosity as the man turns the paper over for Henry to read the other side. “ALEX.”

or, an AU in which two men fall in love through their office windows.

thunderstruck [T, 1.9k] Song

“Alex, slow down.” Henry pulls away softly from Alex’s taut grasp. “Are you feeling alright now?” “Y-yeah, I think I’m okay.” Alex smiles back meekly at Henry’s heedful gaze. Alex feels like he has gotten way ahead of himself. “I'm just a huge astraphobic, ever since I was little. I guess I never grew out of it.”

or, Alex has a fear of thunder so Henry comforts him.

7 minutes in heaven [M,4k] Playlist

“If I wasn’t as drunk as I am right now, I wouldn’t be able to tolerate the unsightly view standing before me.” “Yeah? Well, being locked in a closet with a pretentious asshole such as yourself isn’t my idea of fun either, bud.”

or, what happens when two supposed enemies are forced to be in a closet together for 7 minutes?

tags:

bookmarks

recs

enjoy <3 !!

#wordsofhoneydew writes #red white and royal blue #firstprince #fic: stolen glances with a string attached #fic: 7 minutes in heaven #fic: thunderstruck #wohd wip #wohd recs #honeydew:fanart