#i’m not saying all art needs to be some political or social whatever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

communistkenobi · 3 months

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Obviously art does not rest on methods, media, or the amount of effort a person exerted in making it, but I think AI art is yet another way that capitalism is changing the form and function of art (separating artworks from their original meaning on a different and even larger scale) and given that it is made by exploiting workers (the original artists and the people they pay pennies to sort through it to remove disturbing images) it makes people feel yet more powerless in the face of corporations so there is a big negative reaction to it. This negative reaction may not be articulated in the way you want but I think it's very understandable that people have reactionary feelings about large scale corporate exploitation.

just for the record before I respond, I am replying to this ask in good faith just as you are asking in good faith, I’m not angry at you and many of these questions I’m asking are rhetorical, for the purposes of reflection. So please no slapfighting in the notes, thank you!

First: I’m not disputing exploitation. in fact privileging AI as uniquely exploitative handwaves away the massive amount of exploitation that artists already endure and have endured for a very long time, as well as the horrific amounts of labour exploitation involved in mass producing the ‘tools of the trade’ so to speak.

But this is, again, a non-sequitur to my argument, which is that art produced under exploitative, destructive, “lazy” or politically repugnant conditions is still art. MCU films are art regardless of the fact that they are 3-hour long informercials for the American empire and require massive labour exploitation from CGI animators, actors, film set workers, and everything else: advertisements are art: AI art is art. Horrifying, trite, unoriginal, bad, socially destructive, maybe all of those things are true and we can talk about the merits of those claims (I certainly have strong opinions about them), but what is politically gained from saying bad, unoriginal, horrifying, or trite art isn’t art? Whose definitions are we using here, and if those definitions should be universalised, what does it mean for artists who are only unoriginal, only bad, only whatever else?

I return to my original example: are children not qualified to be artists if they only make “bad” art? I used to trace movie stills from Harry Potter photo books as a child because I loved the characters - am I a fraud for doing so? Am I given grace for my incompetence and “theft” on the basis of me “still learning how to do real art”? When does this grace period end? If we argue that only struggle can produce art, what level of struggle? Struggle for whom? Drawing isn’t difficult for me because I was taught how to hold a pencil, read, write, and draw by a western industrial publicly-funded primary school by a teacher paid with public tax dollars, supplemented with help every night from my mother and father, two married cishet middle class people in a mostly stable (if miserable and verbally abusive) marriage - all of which is resting atop stolen indigenous land. Under what historical conditions can arguments for artistic struggle be made? When we argue for struggle(/hard work/whatever) as the basis of art we are pre-supposing a universal subject whose struggle is globally standardized and calculable - which in all of these discussions on here is (implicitly, though sometimes explicitly) a white able-bodied settler living in a western state who benefits from universal primary education that teaches them the foundational skills of how to make art. You can probably add university educated to that too, given how many of these arguments seem to be swarmed by undergraduate students.

Arguing that there needs to be some threshold for method, labour, intent, or message for art to ‘actually be art’ is politically reactionary and is what I am responding to. It requires transcendental claims about the Artist as a unique labourer set apart from and superior to all others, one whose skills are universalised and whose intent is always observable and present in their work. So if people want to talk about exploitation they should talk about exploitation, not the definition of art. It’s not my fault people can’t stay on topic!

#asks #ai art #<- tagging for blacklisting purposes #sorry I should’ve done this earlier lol

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gilbirda · 2 years

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I'll cover you in Moonlight

Galas were usually hell on earth, at least for Jason, but this time there was something different. There was a giant goddess mingling with the crowd, and he needed to know her name. And then the party was crashed by some weirdos wearing armor.

For DPxDC Week!

Day 7: Security Breach

NOW WITH SOME ART

Based on @stealingyourbones's post

[Read on AO3]

---

She was the most beautiful woman in the ballroom.

Not that he took notice of those things - he was usually so busy between crime fighting and keeping up with whatever bullshit job at WE Bruce was training him to do that he didn’t have time to even think about romance or even a simple hook up.

It had been a miracle he was attending the stupid gala in the first place. He wanted to sleep for a thousand years and eat some Batburgers and binge watch a TV series. This was supposed to be his weekend off.

But she was making it worth it.

“Just talk to her.”

Dick had been watching him watch her for a while, but neither had said anything. Jason had expected a comment or a jab or a joke or maybe calling the others to make fun of him for showing interest in anybody at all. But Dick’s voice was smooth and quiet, as if he didn’t want to break the calm bubble they were in.

“Ok.”

“Do it now.”

“Ok.”

Dick continued to watch him, he felt his eyes looking at his face. Jason took a sip of his champagne flute (why the hell was he drinking that shit, he hated champagne) and continued to watch the giant goddess talking and laughing with a group of people on the other side of the ballroom.

“If you don’t talk to her, how will you get her number?”

“She’s not from high society but has been invited as a guest with that group of people - that’s Arkham’s new director and her assistant, so she must know them. It would be a matter of cross referencing the guest list with Arkham’s staff and-”

“Yeah, yeah. You could also walk up to her and ask her to dance.”

Jason finally looked away from the towering figure of that woman. Dick’s smile was so bright he regretted humoring the conversation.

“I don’t dance.”

“What if she wants to dance?”

He would dance, of course. If that meant having her arms around him, he would dance.

But he didn’t say it. He sipped his champagne and turned back to watch her walk away from the group she had been in and gracefully weave between the other people towards the food table.

“Go! This is your chance.”

Without looking back, he gave his flute to his brother and made his way to where she was browsing through the selection of fancy foods and stupid canapés, her lower lip between her teeth.

“If you want recommendations, I suggest the mushroom stuff. They added a bit of lemon juice and that really makes a difference.”

Why the fuck was he babbling about food?

She seemed to find it funny, though, since she giggled.

“Oh, thanks! I don’t really go to events like these and I wasn’t sure what to try.” She picked up the thing he suggested and took a bite, testing if she liked it. Her eyes lit up as she chewed. “It’s good!” The tall goddess stuffed the rest of the canapé in her mouth and happily chewed. Once she swallowed, she turned to properly look at him, her hand extended. “Thanks! I’m Jasmine, by the way.”

Fitting. She also smelled like flowers.

He took her hand, taking note of her long and pointy black nails. It was unusual to see these if you weren’t in the goth scene.

“Jason,” her grip was firm and strong. Good. “I hope you are not getting bored to death, because I always do at these things.”

She politely smiled before going back to picking more food to eat. She started to pile them in a plate she had on her other hand, one after the other. Was she this hungry? He didn’t blame her, the party had been in full swing for a while and some people even arrived earlier to mingle. That’s why he always wanted to be late, less chances for social interaction.

“These are good too,” she moaned, biting on a fancy cheesy… something. Jason hadn’t tasted those yet. “Wanna try?” She offered when she saw him looking at her.

Jason looked at the canapé she extended to him, one corner bitten and with faint lipstick smudges, and decided to jump for it.

He bit on the offered food, eyes fixed on hers, his lips barely brushing her fingers.

Jasmine blushed, entranced, until she jumped as if she just realized she was staring at his lips.

“Um…”

Did she notice he was hitting on her yet?

“So, what do you usually do for fun at these parties?” She went back to eating her selected assortment of foods. “Dancing?”

“Among other things.” He nodded. “Others prefer to flaunt their riches and brag about business deals.”

Jasmine snorted. “Well, I don’t have either of those, so…”

Maybe it was how she didn’t care if she spoke with her mouth full, or how her lipstick was almost completely rubbed off, but he found it adorable.

“Wanna dance, then?” It was out before he registered his words. He refused to glance at his brother, who was probably watching, and give him the benefit of being right about the dancing thing.

That’s how he ended up dancing with an Amazonian goddess. It wasn’t that bad, the dance was easy and he could really focus on her arms around him and how her touch made his skin burn. She smiled down at him, not bothered by the looks some people were throwing at them.

“For a big guy you really dance well.”

He made her do a twirl, successfully pulling her into his arms and then twirl back away with the rhythm of the music.

“Dancing with those heels cannot be easy either,” he looked down at her feet, where indeed her five inch heels should make dancing difficult. He loved that she wore heels even though she could probably tower over everyone in the room without them.

“I have practice and good balance control,” she said with a smirk. Her smile was so kissable.

“Oh? Is that so?”

Jason took advantage of the last twirl and when he caught her, he dipped her as far as he dared. Her dress had a heart shaped neckline that accentuated her chest as she curved her body with the movement, indeed her balance making it a smooth transition even though she wasn’t expecting it. He couldn’t look away from the exposed skin, his eyes traveling from the soft curve of her bosom-

Okay, maybe he should stop reading Austen before bed.

“My eyes are up here.”

He blushed at being caught, quickly setting her back on her own two heeled feet. At least she didn’t look angry.

“I know I’m tall, and it doesn’t help when my boobs are at people’s eye level.”

“It helps that such a pretty dress highlights your chest area.”

He should really think before he opens his damn mouth. Really. One does not simply speak to a pretty lady about her boobs like that. He was a gentleman, he at least wanted to ask her to dinner before bringing up her boobs.

Jasmine laughed. “I like your honesty. Is refreshing.” The music band was starting another song. “Do you wanna continue dancing?”

He didn’t want to, but if that extended his time with her-

“I could really use a breather, if you don’t mind.”

He nodded. He would follow her anywhere she wanted.

Conversation came easier as they made their way past the groups of people dancing and talking and shaking hands, and Jason gradually felt more relaxed. Jasmine was pretty, tall, strong and very smart, and she liked to talk about anything and everything. He listened as she rambled about some movie she had seen recently, apparently a remake, and that conversation somehow was related to a Disney Princess analysis she did for college, and that she was still pissed off about her professor not giving her full marks for it.

It was around the time she was listing the reasons that said professor shouldn’t be allowed to teach anymore that they finally got outside to the pretty balcony that overlooked a well kept garden. It was bright tonight, the moon almost completely full, and the way its rays hit her was almost magical - maybe he was being a big sap and his judgment was clouded, but her skin glowed under the moonlight.

“Ah~” She sighed, taking in the cold Gotham’s night air. “Feels nice.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s so beautiful here. The garden looks so pretty at night.”

“Yeah. So pretty.” He wasn’t looking at the gardens.

Quiet was fine as well for him. He watched as Jasmine basked under the rays, eyes closed, showing the makeup she had on her eyelids. It was shimmery, highlighting her teal eyes when she had them opened, with a few layers of mascara to show off her long lashes.

It was a shame that she didn’t have more of that pretty burgundy lipstick, it looked good on her.

“My eyes are up here.” She smiled.

He had been caught staring at her lips. He looked up at her teal eyes, mesmerized with how they reflected the moon.

Beautiful.

Jasmine blushed and looked away. “Thank you.”

Oh shit, he said that out loud. “Um…” Time to improvise. “I wanted to… Well, if you want to, but If you want to meet? Outside this place.”

She looked amused. “Are you asking me out?”

“Yeah? For coffee, maybe?”

Her smile was wide, with many white teeth. She seemed to glow more than before.

“I’d love to!”

They exchanged numbers and continued talking about anything and everything, coming back inside once the cold became too much to be comfortable in. The food table was always at reach, and Jazz seemed to always be munching on tiny food. He didn’t comment on it, but made a note about it.

“And then Danny decided to be a little shit about it, and hid my books-” She stopped mid phrase, glancing up as if her name had been called.

“Everything okay?”

“It’s just… I thought I heard-” She looked at the ceiling, then at the door, then at the floor-to-ceiling windows at the back. “Jay?”

She sounded tense. “Yes?” He glanced around too, just in case.

“Please know I really enjoyed my time with you.”

That was ominous.

“Ok?”

“Also I may have been followed here by people that want me dead.”

“Ok???” He pulled out his phone to text the others, in case there was a threat. He didn’t need to be sneaky since Jazz, as she insisted to be called, was distracted by… taking off her shoes?

Just as he managed to text a “we have a situation” in the batfam group chat, Jazz put her shoes in his hands.

“Hold these for me? They were expensive and I don’t want to lose them.”

He was confused, but nodded.

The lights went out, a cold breeze sneaking into the room. Someone started screaming, and soon panic filled the otherwise peaceful party. His first instinct was to grab Jazz and run for it, but she wasn’t where he last saw her.

The breeze quickly turned into a full on gale, the noise taking away the voices of the screaming guests. His eyes adjusted a little to the change of lighting, the moonlight coming from the windows enough to guess the shapes of people and tables as Jason moved around them towards the nearest exit, ready to rush to the Manor and suit up in record time.

Someone else screamed, but it didn’t sound human - it was a weird pitch, and had static noises overlapped, like it was coming from a broken radio.

“Where is the Princess?”

There was a growl. It didn’t even sound human either.

Lights came back on, just in time to see-

It was a giant wolf, he was completely sure about that, the thing that tackled the floating figure wearing armor. The wolf moved with the speed and agility expected in a creature of its build, its size not at all a burden as it jumped to the next floating glowing person. The other creatures, around fifteen or twenty of them, all wearing armor, withdrew their swords and screamed a battlecry before lunging at the wolf.

He was about to wonder how on earth a wolf sneaked into the party venue, when he noticed that the wolf was wearing clothes - a dress he had been looking at the whole night.

He glanced at the heels still in his hands. It wasn’t difficult to make the connection.

He wanted to freak out, he really wanted to freak out at the knowledge that he had been trying to flirt with some kind of werewolf - not the weirdest thing he had ever seen, mind you - but in that moment he witnessed how one of the floating armored people just… phased through a wall and came back from the ceiling.

Ghosts, was his first thought. Made sense - floating, phasing through walls, glowing and wearing old timey clothes.

But Jasmine wasn’t a ghost, and yet her attacks ripped through the armor pieces like butter, although that may have more to do with her sharp claws.

Jason gulped, entranced by the display. She was efficient and quick on her feet, she was used to this. She was also used to fighting with that form - she used her claws to pin down one of the soldiers and her big maws to chomp down on their heads, ripping apart the bodies like they were nothing.

It was brutal. It was beautiful.

“Jason!”

He turned to find Tim on his left. He looked nervously at the fight, one hand grasping his arm to drag him away.

“We have to go. Bruce is on his way to the cave.”

This made him snap out of it. Whatever was happening here, Batman shouldn’t be involved.

“No. No, wait.”

“We have to move!” Tim tried to pull him harder, but Jason planted his feet firmly on the floor. He looked around, finding that the room had been completely evacuated with him being the only ‘civilian’ left.

“I know what’s going on.”

This made his brother stop. “You do?”

He licked his lips, unsure of what he should say. Jazz didn’t explain anything, just that these people wanted her dead and had followed her there; but they called her ‘Princess’, so something else must be going on.

“Yes. I know who the wolf is.”

Tim narrowed his eyes, glancing at the heels still in his hands. Tim didn’t see him with Jasmine, he was sure, but he could see the gears spinning behind his eyes.

“Fine, but you have to deal with B later.”

“Deal.”

With that, he was left behind with the fight still going on. Jasmine noticed him standing there, watching, and rushed to his side with a few powerful leaps, picking him up with one arm and pressing him against her body in time to leap away from a green blast.

“Why are you still here?” Her voice was distorted, deeper, a rumble coming from deep inside her chest. He could feel the vibrations through their clothes.

“Why do they want to kill you?”

“No time to explain!” She jumped again, the sensation not unlike being launched upwards with the grapple. “You have to go!”

“I can help. Throw me.”

“What!?” A growl weaved with her voice. It was the wrong moment, they were dodging the attacks from the soldier ghosts; but he couldn’t help but feel the shiver at the sound of her voice, at the sight of her sharp canines so close to his face.

“There are a lot of them and only one of you. I can help.”

“Do you think you can punch a ghost?” She confirmed they were, indeed, ghosts.

“I’ve punched worse things.”

Jazz jumped behind a turned over table and held him in front of her for a moment. He felt his face warm at the sheer size of her claws (paws?) under his arms, the sharp points barely digging on his suit jacket. He now had a chance to properly see her face, the long snout full of dangerous teeth, the same teal eyes he had gazed upon under the moonlight, the ears twitching and moving, hearing sounds that were outside the human range.

He wanted to touch her, check that the fur in the same shade of orange-red as her hair was as soft as it looked like.

“Let me help you.” He extended a hand, placing it on the side of her face. It was very soft.

Jazz leaned into the touch, a loud purr blooming in her chest.

“Alright. Are you ready?”

“Throw me in, chief.”

She found it funny. Her laugh was beautiful even in this form.

Jazz jumped from their cover, her grip secure around him as she got ready to launch him at the closest ghost. Jason had one last chance to enjoy her closeness before he was thrown like a ball at high speed at the unsuspecting soldier.

They clearly didn’t expect him coming, and he used that to his advantage, especially when his fists successfully made contact with their bodies.

It became a dance, not unlike the one they had a while ago - Jazz would literally rip their armors off, rip some limbs as well if she could, and kick them in his general direction before jumping to the next one.

Could ghosts be killed? He wondered, seeing them recover from torn heads and limbs like nothing. In any case, he didn’t hold back, deciding to roll with it and improvise like he always did. It was an easier job after he stole a sword and started stabbing and cutting until they didn’t bounce back as easily as at the beginning.

Soon, one of them, probably the leader, did the smart thing and called for retreat. They left as quickly as they came, leaving him and Jazz alone in the thrashed and empty ballroom. At least he got to keep the cool ghost sword.

“We should go.”

Jazz nodded. “Batman will be here any minute.”

There was something in the way she said his name that it made him turn to look at her. She was still in wolf form, her dress ripped and stained with green blood from her attackers.

“I assume you don’t want to stay and chat?” She shook her head. “Take me with you.”

She was so expressive even in this form. “Why?”

Why, indeed. He tried to think of an excuse, a valid reason why he had to accompany her wherever she was going, but in the end the answer was way simpler.

“I want to be with you.”

She didn’t blush, he wasn’t sure she could while in this form, but she awkwardly looked away. “Ok,” her voice was small. Cute. “I have to explain anyway.”

She had to explain, but he also had to explain a few things, especially if he was supposed to do a report on what happened and why he knew her. Bruce wouldn’t let it go, he was positive.

This was going to get so messy come morning, but for now, he wanted to go back to enjoying the moonlight with this woman.

The wolf woman chuckled from deep inside her chest and opened her arms. “Hop in, hot stuff.”

He rushed it, eager to get back close to her, grabbing her heels from where he threw them before the fight and securing his grip on the sword before letting her pick him up like he weighed nothing.

It wasn’t until they were soaring over the gardens, thanks to a powerful leap from the balcony, that he didn’t see the others completely suited up arriving at the venue. They saw him as well, eyes big and mouths open at the sight of the giant wolf in a cocktail dress carrying him away into the night.

He waved at them with the sword, just to be a little shit.

---

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lumelii · 1 year

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hi ho! it's been a while. but i come bearing a gift. hope you like it!

word count: 3.3k

content warning: slightly nsfw at the end, a whole lot of angst, bullying (?)

Let me know if i missed any tags. Thanks as always to Moni @karamfilmare for being my beta.

Why won’t the ringing stop?

You were sure her name had been given as she was introduced to you, but the words did not register over the incessant peal which started as soon as you saw her with Yuuji across the room. You didn’t need her name though. Yuko Ozawa, the daughter of an old friend of Mr. Nanami’s from Oxford College. She and her father were staying with the Nanamis while her father attended to business in London, though this was the first time you had seen her out in public. From what you understood, her family lived in genteel poverty somewhere in the countryside, not enough money to spend the social season in London.

Your cousin’s hand on your arm was the only thing keeping your knees from buckling as you stared at Yuuji and Yuko. The look was plain on his face as he watched her. His lazy smile, the soft crinkle at the corners of his eyes, the way his gaze sparkled and wouldn’t be ripped from hers even if a fire broke out in the Gojo’s grand ballroom.

You must have been taking too long to respond to her introduction, not able to even curtsy without the fear of falling on your face. Ichika stepped in, curtsying deeply enough to support you as well as you did your best attempt to maintain some sense of decorum.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ozawa.” Ichika smiled brightly from the corner of your eye. The grip of her hand tightened slightly, a silent prompt.

“A pleasure.” You parroted emotionlessly.

“The pleasure is mine. Mr. Itadori speaks highly of your family.” Yuko’s smile was kind. It didn’t make you hate her any less.

“I’m sure more than we deserve, he is complementary to a fault.” Ichika gave Yuuji a teasing look.

“You surely jest, Lady Okkotsu. I only give credit where credit is due.” His eyes went to your cousin only for a moment to smirk before he focused his attention back to Yuko.

The ring in your ears dulled slightly, enough for you to finally take in the woman before you instead of only looking at Yuuji. Her hair was simple, curled at the sides similarly to yours and tied in a low bun at the nape of her neck, though she had no adornments in her hair nor at her neck or ears. Her dress was of a quality far beyond what her family could afford, and you recognized it immediately.

“What a lovely dress.” You commented, right in the middle of whatever Yuko was saying to your cousin. The other three members of your small circle turned to you, a range of confused expressions on their faces at your interruption.

Yuko recovered exceptionally well, smiling politely as she looked at the skirt. “Thank you. I didn’t have anything suitable for tonight since it was such short notice. Mrs. Nanami leant me one of her dresses.”

You knew this already. The style was slightly older, but not enough to be outdated. The dress itself was hard to forget, however. Monica Nanami had worn the dress during another party at the Gojo residence in London many years ago. The white muslin gown gathered just below the bust, the light, flowy skirts skimming the floor. The overskirt was intricately embroidered at the edges in gold and multi-colored thread which matched the embroidery along the vee neckline and edges of the bodice. The women at the party had fawned over the wearable piece of art the whole night, and Monica had given every opportunity to praise her husband and his taste. Mr. Nanami’s ears had turned permanently red from all the attention, both from the women at the party and from husbands who gave him a good-natured ribbing for making the rest of them look subpar. It had been a fun, intimate night. You had wondered if one day, Yuuji would do the same for you when you married. If you would married.

That dream was disappearing faster with every second Yuuji looked at Yuko with all the adoration in the world.

“How fortunate then, your stay with the Nanami family.” You took a small drink from your lemonade glass, watching her over the rim.

Her smile became confused but she hid it as best she could. “Yes, I suppose so.”

She looked at Yuuji. He gave her a reassuring smile and looked at you, his brow slightly furrowed, a question in his eyes. You were behaving erratically, you knew this. But you just didn’t care anymore. It was clear your goal, why you had agreed to this flirtatious farce with Megumi Fushiguro, why you sacrificed your own beliefs for the mere chance Yuuji Itadori might notice you, was for naught.

You were never even a consideration to him. Now, your pain would be everyone else’s.

“They take great pride in their charity work.” You continued. “Though your father must have known that, reaching out to such an old friend for help.”

“(Y/N).” Ichika murmured your name as a warning. But you wouldn’t stop. You wouldn’t allow yourself to cry, and your anger needed a release. A barbed tongue was your only option.

“Mr. Nanami wouldn’t dare refuse. And how fortunate that he brought his young, unattached daughter with him knowing Nanami’s son would be in town for the season.” You pushed onward, even as Yuko’s face crumbled. “You must have known Mr. Itadori is the heir of his own fortune.” You made a point of looking between Yuuji and Yuko, then up and down at her dress. “Why else would you base yourself enough to wear another woman’s gown, if not to capitalize on the opportunity of a ball to sink your hooks into someone so far above your station?”

The unmasked pain you had caused in Yuko’s eyes should have made you feel something. But it didn’t. You wanted her to hurt. She was living what you had always wanted. What years of pining and waiting had never dimmed. Yet she came into town, and within weeks Yuuji was at her beckon call. You hated it. You hated yourself. Why had you never realized your feelings would never be reciprocated? Why now was it necessary for this innocent girl to suffer? This pain could not be leashed.

“That’s enough, Miss (l/n).” Yuuji hissed. His eyes flashed with an anger you had never seen before as he glared at you. But you found it was not as devastating as it would have been five minutes ago. Let him feel the pain you felt as well, seeing his love hurt. He should have been aware of your desire. You didn’t try to hide it. Yet it was never even addressed. You didn’t mean enough for even an acknowledgment.

Yuko forced a stiff smile and curtsied, murmuring an apology before she practically sprinted away. Yuuji didn’t give you a second look as he chased after her, which made the chasm in your chest widen further.

“What is wrong with you, (y/n)?” Ichika demanded once they were both gone. Her eyes were hard as well, though her expression could have been interpreted as genuine concern. “You’re not cruel, what was that about? You don’t even know Miss Ozawa.”

Her grip was still on your arm. It was too tight. The room was too hot. Your heart in your chest was pounding too hard. And the tears you had been fighting back since Yuuji and Yuko approached you seemed to be coming one way or another.

You wrenched yourself free from her grasp and ran out of the room. The entire house felt too cramped, though it was one of the largest in the city. You found the patio doors and pushed your way outside running into the garden to find a secluded spot.

The fresh air should have improved your breathing, but as you finally found a secluded alcove your gasping only grew worse. You had never felt this kind of pain before. You were young when your mother died. You hardly remembered her face, let alone her voice. The grief you may have felt as a child had been forgotten with time as time blunted whatever pain you experienced. If it was anything like the hurt that currently clawed through your chest, you were glad you didn’t remember.

As a slight breeze blew through the garden, you realized that at some point in your solitude, you had begun to cry. You wipes furiously at your cheeks to rid them of the wet tracks on your skin, but more took their place. Your gasps had turned to sobs, so forceful you bent over and braced your arms on the stone bench in front of you. Your tears stained the cool limestone beneath your hands as you failed to stop the emotions pouring out of you. You were not like this, you weren’t emotional. You thought you were in control of yourself, but events from earlier and your current outburst proved otherwise.

Had you been wrong all along? Had you confused Yuuji’s kindness as possible interest on your part? You had thought with time, maybe he would see you as more than his friend’s cousin and would pursue you as the other men in the ton had. You had ignored them all for him, and when he did not show his affection you became desperate enough to enter this farce with Megumi Fushiguro. But was it a farce? Megumi, though distant, had shown he cared in his own way throughout your arrangement. Was he interested in truly courting you? And why was it that a small part of you wished he was? You clutched your head in your hands. No. You couldn’t think of this now. That couldn’t be a possibility. Megumi made it clear your arrangement was purely for gain. And you loved Yuuji, you would have him.

“Y/N.”

You looked to the entrance of your little alcove. Megumi stood there, his face obscured by the darkness. The sight of him made you tears begin anew. He was only a reminder of what you had done and how it was all seemingly for naught. You wiped furiously at your cheeks to rid them of the wet tracks on your skin but they were replaced with new ones. You would not allow Megumi to see you cry.

“Not now, please not now.” You sobbed. “Leave me be.”

“What happened?” He stepped further into the small garden. “Are you well?”

“No!” You shouted. “I’m obviously not well! Now why don’t you go back inside and leave me to crumble in solitude instead of reveling in it?”

His face was infuriatingly passive as always, and you could see every inch of it now in the moonlight. Something about it set a change in you, and your sorrow morphed into anger.

“So, are you satisfied?” You straightened to face him, your chin held high. “You were right. My plan didn’t work. Yuuji is now seemingly completely and utterly enamored with Miss Ozawa. He does not desire my company. And now, all my work is for naught and my reputation will be ruined.”

“I do not enjoy seeing you in pain, Miss (l/n).” Megumi’s face still did not change. He could at least pretend to care, but he did not. He never did.

“Oh, I am sure you do not!” You laughed mirthlessly. “You have only been telling me this whole time to set my hopes aside because Yuuji did not want me, that this plan was ridiculous, that it would never work. Well, you were right. Enjoy your victory and leave me in peace!”

“What victory?” He stepped closer so he was only feet away. He was angry now, you could see it in the way his brow was drawn and the hard set of his jaw. His green eyes sparked dangerously as speared you with his gaze. “Do you think I revel in this?”

“Yes! You were right, I was wrong. And I hate it!” The words were bubbling inside you, just as they had in the ballroom, and you couldn’t stop them even though you weren’t entirely sure you meant them, but you were hurting and you wanted someone else to hurt too. “I hate you!”

“Do you?” He moved closer, crowding your space even as you stepped back until you were almost chest to chest. If you breathed too deeply, your bosom would brush against the lapels of his jacket. Your breath quickened to prevent any part of you touching him. The look in his eyes was dangerous, challenging as a cruel smile spread across his face. You were grateful for it. You didn’t want his pity. You wanted a release to this anger, and you knew he could provide it. “Please, Miss (l/n), enlighten me. Why do you hate me?”

“I hate how you never smile. I hate how you act like you’re above any social interaction and avoid everyone at all costs. I hate how you pretend you dislike something I know you truly enjoy so as not to give someone the satisfaction that they know something about you. I hate how you look someone up and down and you give them that indolent smile like you know something oh so devious and they’ll never know it, because who could ever be as clever or even compare to the great Megumi Fushiguro?” You spat.

“Is that so?” Your chests were touching now after he stepped forward, but you would not back down. He had tried to hold the upper hand this whole arrangement, but no longer. There was nothing left for you to lose. You had already lost Yuuji, though did you ever really have him in the first place? The thought caused the gaping hole in your chest to widen, the pain renewed. You could not hold onto this. It needed an outlet, and it stood before you.

“It is!” You yelled in his face though he did not flinch.

“Good.” Before you could blink, his large hands were cupping your face, his fingers lacing through your hair. You barely registered the intimacy of his touch because a breath later, he surged forward and planted a kiss harshly on your lips.

You started at his touch and his brazen action. Even if you were to attempt to retreat his arm has already encircled you, keeping you held to him as his lips commanded your own. But you didn’t want to pull back

It was the events of the night, you were sure of it. There was no other reason why your arms had found their way around his neck encouraging him. You were hurting, his touch filled the gaping hole in your chest just a little more. To know someone wanted your affection, or at least your touch. You were desirable. Why didn’t Yuuji see that?

You’re lying. A small voice inside you crowed as Megumi slanted his mouth over yours, deeping your kiss after the placement of your arms around him showed you weren’t resisting his advances. This wasn’t just because you were hurting, that you needed another’s touch. You had found yourself wondering over the past several weeks as you spent more and more time with the dark-haired man who was now running his tongue along your bottom lip, what it would feel like to touch him, to kiss him. To have this arrangement between you be truthful, rather than a ruse to spur your true target into action. What would it be like for Megumi to hold your hand and smile, to send you flowers sincerely instead of keeping up appearances? Was there even a possibility that he felt that way? As his tongue explored your mouth and you reciprocated in kind, albeit clumsily, maybe it could be true.

This feeling was different. There was a coiling deep in your belly, growing tighter as Megumi’s large hand covered one of your breasts and gently squeezed, finding your nipple through the layers of fabric and teasing until it was a hard nub. You gasped against his mouth at the jolt of pleasure that shot to your core and arched into his touch. This was wrong. You were with a man unchaperoned in the dimly-lit gardens. He was touching you inappropriately, and yet you wanted more. This was an extraordinary sensation, one you never would have thought would come at the hands of Megumi. Why was he expressing such outright desire when you were certain he tolerated you at best?

When Megumi’s hand left your breast you almost whimpered at the loss. It traveled lower down your body, tracing your silhouette over your dress, squeezing any soft place it landed until it was finally behind your knee. You wondered what he was planning, why would his hands stray so far down? It was then he hoisted your leg up so it was around his waist and you were balancing on your other foot. You gasped at your sudden unsteadiness and clung to him more tightly to prevent from falling. Megumi had no time to spare. He attacked your mouth again, commanding your lips for only a brief moment before he broke away again and started kissing down your neck. A whine escaped from you while he sucked on your pulse point then licked up the column of your throat, tasting the salt on your skin.

“Megumi.” You almost didn’t recognize your own voice as you moaned his name. His head snapped up at the explicit sound, green eyes flashing with a fire that matched the one growing in your stomach. The prospect of what burns that fire could cause almost scared you. Almost.

A loud crash caused you both to look over to the entrance of your small hideaway, still clinging to each other like monkeys. You couldn’t bear to let go yet. One of the small statues flanking the arched hedge entrance had fallen, its head broken off as it hit the ground. It was the force which caused the statue to fall in the first place that made you and Megumi both start in horror.

Yuuji stood at the entrance, his hand outstretched like he had tried to stop it from falling but had been too late. His eyes, however, were fixed on the pair of you and your sordid embrace. You wished you could discern the expression on his face. Shock, obviously. But there was something else behind his eyes. You didn't have a further opportunity for study as he had turned and was running back the way he came before you had finished your breath.

“Yuuji!” Megumi had released you and started running after him, pausing just for a moment to raise his hand in a ‘wait’ sign to you, and he was gone as well.

You didn’t allow yourself to wait. You couldn’t. Realization was setting coldly into your bones now at what you had done and what the repercussions would be if anyone were to find out. You were ruined. What would become of you now? Your uncle and aunt had graciously taken you in and treated you like one of their own to give you the opportunity of a life you never would have never been offered, had you lived with your father. And now, you had taken their generosity and spat on it. Their investment in you was now for naught.

Your hands shook as you smoothed your hair just enough to be presentable before you ran out of the gardens, around the house and to the carriages waiting out front. People would speak of your absence. It was certain their tongues were already wagging at your outburst against Yuko in the ballroom, but it didn’t matter. All you cared about was getting back home and hiding, Maybe then, you would wake up and find this was all a cruel dream.

taglist: @karamfilmare @gummy-dummy @thewabbit

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

#regency!megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk #jjk megumi #my writing #regency!au #jjk fandom

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redwolf17 · 8 months

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The whole interview is well worth a read, but here’s a few highlights

Hozier tactfully addressing the internet lust brigade:

Hozier may find comfort in maintaining a certain level of mystery. Earlier this year, a Spotify user shared a playlist titled submissive men !! that featured four Hozier songs, including “NFWMB,” from his 2018 EP Nina Cried Power. The musician finds his inclusion on the playlist “interesting” and raises his eyebrows at the idea that he might have some songs out serving as theme music for all the subby boys out there.

“I think I’m glad most people don’t know me all that well,” he says. “Sometimes I think the negative space between me and the actual me and fans is filled with very, I think, attractive descriptions of myself or attractive imaginings of myself.”

Hozier on the politics of his music:

That said, he doesn’t want his music used for causes he doesn’t support. “What I’m concerned [with] is if it gets co-opted for something that’s harmful or deliberately harmful,” he says, his voice becoming firmer with his conviction. For as many love songs as Hozier sings, he is equally committed to social justice and calling attention to inequality and oppression. In “Butchered Tongue,” from Unreal Unearth, he highlights the colonialist practice of forcing indigenous peoples to abandon their mother languages. He also directly references pitchcapping, an ancient form of torture famously used by the English to put down the Irish Rebellion of 1798. Pointing out the atrocities of the world is as important to him as declarations of undying love.

“I'm very interested in Irish history, but I find that Irish history– it’s one little microcosm of something that happened across the world, you know what I mean? And so my understanding, the history of my place, where I come from—it informs my understanding of imperialism, of global imperialism, and it informs my understanding of global power structures,” he says. “They’re part of my psychic makeup, just from what I understand of my own country’s history, my own nation’s history. … It colors the lens, as it were, with how I see the world.”

Hozier on fans ignoring the influence of Black artists on his music:

“This is kind of part of the wider thing … I can talk about my influences being of Black artistry. It’s mentioned all the time. It is in the work. It’s literally in the work … and it’s just something that is not taken seriously,” he says.

Black fans have often taken to social media to express their own frustration at how white fans conveniently ignore Hozier’s tributes to Black artists, praising him instead as a ridiculously tall forest elf from a magical land far, far away. But Hozier says it’s natural for him to pay homage, to take care of the work he’s built his own on.

“It just seems strange that it wouldn’t be part of the conversation,” he says. “And it’s so fundamental to my influence. I named the songs after Black artists, and the work is signposted constantly back to it. I just try to be honest with it as best I can, and try to approach that conversation with the spirit of honesty and openness.”

#Hozier #hozier interview #political hozier

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starjxsung · 22 days

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“music should be kept as music and fashion events should be kept as fashion events” as if art hasnt always been used for political things……???? like political views going hand in hand with art, music, fashion etc is not a new thing why are people acting as if it is and putting it above their morals 😭 like i’m sorry but if you enjoy music from someone who’s clearly a known horrible person and you dont care abt artists you like collabing with them, maybe you should check yourself and your morals

being disappointed in a group you like because of how your morals align is NOTTTTT using them as a punching bag !!!!!!!! you’d be disappointed in a friend too if they put something else above morals, would you not? it’s not any different from being disappointed in a celebrity aside from the fact you don’t *really* know them, like you know your friend, but it can still hurt and be upsetting - puppy anon

This ! We cannot ignore the relationship that politics have to music and art alike. Let’s not act as though some of the most famous art pieces are not politically-motivated, or like we don’t have political influence within the sphere of music. BTS have attended and spoken at the United Nations I think twice now, their group leader is literally an ambassador for the Ministry of National Defense in Korea. They also met with US political leaders during AAPI heritage month. Kpop companies have shown a clear desire to want to penetrate into political spheres because they know the impact that their idols have. It makes more sense to ask musicians to take a stance rather than your average social media influencer, but unfortunately with the way the kpop industry is designed, people feel this need to protect them from the real world and keep them confined to their bubble of ignorance. Newsflash: your idols vote ! They are full grown adult men and they know what politics are !

The fact that me voicing my wish for more people to make use of the insane amounts of money they’re raking in from working with 8 different designer brands and collaborating with somebody so polarizing- has somehow turned into people concluding I’m using my favorite band in the world as a “punching bag” is beyond me. I know people want me to shut up and post fanfiction so they can also retreat to their comfortable little bubble and forget that all of this is happening, but my point stands- as it pertains to musicians, AND influencers, AND politicians alike.

You guys can say whatever you want but you don’t get to dictate how “big of a fan I am” based off my moral beliefs. The two have zero correlation. And if that bothers you, I would urge you not to follow the blog that was created to be an extension of my personal thoughts and not just the easily digestible pornographic content most people followed me for.

( love u and 10000% agree 🫶❤️)

#puppy anon <3 #ask

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whentherewerebicycles · 10 months

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NOT to pile onto the pessimism of the day but I'm an advisor at a CC and we just collapsed academic advising and career advising into one category...and while I understand the need to have a single point of contact for those services, it also has created this dynamic where I Have to bring up career readiness at Every Meeting and it's like....some of these kids short out at being asked to choose an elective! We Have to be able to start with the small questions and not make them dive into the big questions before they're ready.

Relatedly, we're supposed to be on a caseload model so that we CAN track along with our students from start to finish and we DO have the opportunity to build genuine relationships with them. But in practice our leadership has shuffled our caseloads three times in the past three months and the students get an automated email every single time and it has created SO much chaos and confusion and discomfort for them. It's so tiring.

oof!!!! my college is culturally + demographically much closer to a CC than anywhere I’ve studied at or worked before and I have been wondering if the intense focus on career readiness is part of those baked-in quasi-vocational school norms. not sure how to articulate that exactly except to say that at yale you are implicitly encouraged to explore your passions and expected to pursue a well-rounded liberal arts education (like everyone took art history or shakespeare or political theory or whatever because those are markers of an Educated Person in that sphere). whereas at my current school the language is all about career tracks, professional pathways, professional skill development… idk I’m certainly not saying you have to be immersed in The Great Works of the Western Canon to receive a good education!!!! I just think there’s much less value placed on taking a wide range of classes and exploring different fields and wayyyy more of a sense of, like, get your shit sorted early so you can get out of here fast and into the workforce.

and again I GET that this is not all coming from the institution itself—it’s also like, the time you spend in college is time you are shelling out $$ on credits while also cutting back on hours you could be working at a job, so of course there is more pressure to make that time “pay” in some more tangible way. that’s a shitty reality of living in a country with no social safety net. but also idk!! I just feel like yeah collapsing academic and career advising into one category at CC or CC-adjacent public institutions is such a perfect encapsulation of this frustration lol. is higher education’s highest purpose to funnel people into the workforce?? but also isn’t this just the age-old debate about the value of a liberal arts education etc etc. and then idk you’re right that students very often aren’t ready to make those decisions so early because they are typically coming to us from underfunded and understaffed public schools where there likely wasn’t a lot of space or resources dedicated to exploring one’s interests. so they pick the career or major that they have heard of, and then we put them on a career track and that’s the kind of advising they get forever. idk!!! feels a little bleh!!!!

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the1975attheirverybest · 10 months

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Well, I've decided to come here, and rant since that anon kinda mentioned it. So feel free to ignore but since the line in IILWY has been going around recently regarding the whole "You show me your black girl thing." Both from Swifies/ Maylors and even some 75 fans completely discarding the meaning behind it, and I've had it up to here with that bullshit.

(please bear in mind I am half black and therefore biracial.)

I'm going to be real there is a level of racism in this fandom (I'm not saying a lot, but there is a percentage), and to say there isn't is just ignorant. (I have personally dealt with it on here over a character in my fic because "she was too dark for Matty") The majority of the fandom wholeheartedly ignores the existence of Twigs and Matty's relationship, and I find it so fucked up. That man was so fucking clearly (the most we have ever seen) in love with her.

"So, there’s the line that goes ‘You show me your Black girl thing/Pretending that I know what it is (I wasn’t listening),’ which came from this moment when she was talking about something that I had no cultural understanding of, and all I was thinking was, ‘I’m in love with you.’ And maybe I should have been focusing on what it was, but in that moment, I didn’t care about anything cultural or political. I just loved her."

It's like everyone just forgets this ever happened. It honestly breaks my heart and also makes me personally feel some type of way because it genuinely feels like everyone ignores her because of the color of her skin. But yet continues to suck Gabby's ass even though that shit was years and years ago (no hate to Gabby I love her)

Yes yes yes yes yes yes. I know it’s just one line, but it honestly means and does so so much. Which I think is the point of the song. Love makes you aware of difference and makes you more open to it. Including racial and cultural difference. The fact that he’s whites and she’s not is an essential factor in their relationship. Because society makes it so. And for stuff that’s seemingly mundane (which as hair and skin routines or whatever) that he hadn’t considered before or encountered, it makes a big difference. And it becomes a moment of awareness. Like juxtaposing the “she’s the person I’m in love with” with the “there are things about her life experience and her perception of the world and her lived experience that I will never know” is VERY important. To ignore that aspect of the song would be like ignoring Twigs’s blackness.

I’m so sorry that you’ve had to encounter that kind of attitude towards your fic character. That’s just indefensible. People who legitimately think this way need to examine why they have this impulse to reject the idea that Matty would be with a black girl.

And I’m gonna say it now before y’all come at me: NOPE. It’s not the same as “having a type,” and go educate yourself before you speak.

Sometimes songs ARE up to interpretation and that’s fine. Encouraged even. But if your interpretation rests on the erasure of someone’s racial identity….it’s an invalid interpretation.

Side note: this is not 75 related but I actually do research about this. There’s a black female character in one of Shakespeare’s plays that all the academics refuse to acknowledge. Even though the play LITERALLY says that she had “ebony colored skin” and that “her beauty is dark.” Editors of the play insist on saying “oh it just means she’s not blonde.” My argument is that they’re fuckin racist and they can’t believe the poster boy of white genius poets (Shakespeare) would have a black woman as a main character in a love plot.

I guess this doesn’t really help much. Expect to say that the problem within the fandom is definitely part of our social politics. Fandom spaces are not exempt from sociopolitical / cultural issues because they exist within them. And we need to be more aware and critical of our presumptions. Yes art is fun and escapism and entertainment. But it’s also culture and education and ethics.

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bright-eyed · 1 year

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Long post

Part of me thinks the whole relatability in books problem is overblown. Like the only people who refuse to read books that aren’t “relatable” are not the people who engage in reading or even much of anything with any depth anyway so like lost cause.

But also, I feel like they took this argument of “we need more representation in literature because certain voices and perspectives are being purposefully excluded from the mainstream and I would like to see more works told from perspectives that appear more like my own because as it stands it feels like my slant of experience is not seen as an expression of a universal humanity” (good) and that became “representation in literature - and every sort of art or media - is an arbiter of our perspectives and of what we are allowed to be, and we are incapable of experiencing common feelings outside of the bounds our social classes and identities, as intrinsically distinct types of people” (nonsensical also contradictory to the original intent).

And it’s weird because it feels like only wanting to read “relatable” books thing is a backlash to the inclusion of new perspectives but one that still conforms to this new paradigm, and I guess what sort of backlash it is would partially depend on who you were. Wealthy cishet white men refusing to read books they find “unrelatable” sends a different political message than minorities including women doing the same due to the fact that most of the western canon is catered to those men in a deliberate political effort that lasted centuries. Nevertheless to have anyone refusing to read anything on account of its “unrelatability” underscores an age-old reactionary political idea that there is something inherently different about being a minority, which is part of what kept those minorities excluded for so many centuries - though now the tone has changed and that difference is considered a moral strength rather than a moral failing, at least in some circles.

So like, the idea that we can’t understand books written by men from like the 18th century for example because there’s an unpassable bridge between us and them is not a new idea; it’s actually a deeply conservative idea. It’s a “you couldn’t understand literature because you’re other, you’re not one of us, so we’re going to censor the few of your contributions that we allow to make it comprehensible to real human beings like us, you’re a side project in the great noble work of mankind” argument. The progressive inversion of that would be to say: “yeah I’m a member of a so-called minority group removed from this writer by class and gender and 300 years of history etc but there is still something intrinsically human that ties me to this person and to say that is impossible would be to deny one of us our humanity, and it will probably be me. Like, there’s actually nothing that separates me and them, I dare you to tell me how I’m wrong, etc. All the horrors they are capable of and all their flaws and sufferings and struggles are mine, and all their heroics and glories and strengths are also in me. How the world processes what we are might look different but at our heart we are the same. To say otherwise is to carry on the legacy of suppression and othering.” It looks cleaner now, to otherize, because the legacy evolves and camouflages itself into new times and it always takes a while to pick it out from a new environment, but the act is the same cuz people always have a drive to do this for whatever stupid reason. The same human drive that gives rise to things like nationalism and stuff. Anyway

i guess the thing for me is that literary works are a lot like people in that they’re defined less by the vessel than what they carry, even if their vessel changes the face of the way they interact with the world. Relatability is a superficial way of looking at us cuz we’re all always more, and we can change and be contradictory and expansive even to ourselves. We’re bigger on the inside cringe but yeah. When is anyone ever just what they appear to be, or what society deems them to be? That’s a belief you can only have if you’re living in a state of constant bewilderment and denial. Are we so eager to believe there are distinct bounds to what we are capable of being or experiencing, does that idea console us or help us make sense of the world? It might make us feel like we’re safe because it gives us parameters and a code but then we’re left confused and in denial when inevitably the contradictory world gets in anyway and we experience things we had prematurely decided were impossible. Also the idea that there are certain realms of human experience that we are blocked away from is always a denial of our autonomy and humanity and it’s never going to help us understand anything about anything. And it just makes us cruel and stupid. Anyway um

Basically tldr the call for representation was a call for including more people in the definition of humanity and to share more art and forms of beauty, but now for some people it seems to be more about separating people into different types of humanity with different levels of subjective worth and understandability. Which is just a remix version of what we were doing 100 years ago. And the people who were being excluded historically don’t even benefit from this because their humanity is still being denied and can still be denied in a world where it is commonly accepted that there are irrevocable differences between types of people. Am I making sense????? It’s just not helping and it’s dumb. And annoying

Also on top of that the call for meaningful representation turned into “we need to include certain identities in order to check off a box so more people will buy our content and our work will be inherently moral” and “reading previously-excluded perspectives to perform politically instead of just seeing those perspectives as intrinsically worth reading even if they weren’t bolstering your identity as a moral and politically progressive person or giving you whatever exposure you think you need to make yourself superior or something” which are also not humanizing endeavors but that’s a whole other post and I need to stop cuz I didn’t even mean to write this one

Ugh

#saw a paragraph-long post about relatability in literature and thought i can write a paragraph-long post about relatability in literature #as if i can write a paragraph-long post about any opinion i have about anything #kennapost

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liesandbrokenhearts · 1 year

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I've been as well as I can be. thank you for your concern. you know how some people say they were born in the wrong era? if you were a vampire what would be your era and what time period do you think you'd have thrived in? the two need not be mutually exclusive. would you seek solitude or would you enjoy a social night life with your vampire kin?

Good, and I’m always here if you need someone to talk to! And hmm I like to think my vampire era would be near writers like Oscar Wilde or sort of gothic romanticism in art and writing, but I think I’d actually feel a lot more comfortable as a vampire and thrive in something like the seventies and beyond when it comes to politics and things like that, not that they’re always that much better now though lol and I’d like to think I’d give less of a shit if I was immortal and would outlive all of these people to go out and do whatever it was that I wanted, even though life is not short in this case lol. So I think I’d get out a lot more as a vampire

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firespirited · 1 year

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Here are my lines in the sand at least for now.

My biggest concern is accidentally causing pain which is why I wanted to mull stuff over and why I'd rather dip my toe in very slowly. You might have read that as judgement but it really is about me not wanting to use the wrong name or pronouns, say something distressing or upset people who have strong stances while also getting over old fears of walking on eggshells and shame spiralling.

Here goes:

1/ Companions and voices in your head exist, and who am I to question how you make sense of being weird as a fellow weirdo? Endogenic systems are not role-play but if you have any control I'd much prefer to only interact with the primary. Why? Because we don't know each other that well.

2/ Traumagenic systems from childhood when you don't control your personality shifts are legit. In this case I would totally be willing to put in the work to accommodate alters. In the same way that meeting new people involves learning what to warn for and what pronouns to use: DM me, let's get to know each other. - DID in CPTSD and BPD is real but if at all possible I'd like to interact with the primary or be given a heads-up (the way my other friends do about grumpy days, pain days, etc) so I don't put my foot in it.

Like all friendships, we start out with good faith and you see how much you can trust me with and if it works out you can trust me with more. In the same way, I don't owe disclosure about my life events and painful feelings to people I've just met. We're cool, we'll build on that, then build some more.

3/ I'm not willing to take any stances on what is and isn't harmful, healthy, valid or be part of the syscourse or writing, art and sex work discourse. There are too many grey areas and special cases to make blanket statements. People are complicated: books-full of nuance are required.

If you ask me about whether writing about X is bad or claiming to be Y is bad: I'm going to write a whole thesis about the medical/social models of disability, the carceral mindset and rehabilitative justice because we can't do one without considering the others.

4/ This blog isn't safe for children and won't be split into sideblogs: I work on toys while i'm processing political events and watching grown up media and these things all go together. I'm an adult collector who will point out sexual references and political failings in manufacture. I can tag for triggers of course, but the toy industry is dirty and there are plenty of child safe options for doll opinions and creation.

5/ I can't stop people from taking my work or tagging it with things they project onto it but I do have the right to block or message you if it's out there in the open and disturbing: No it's not flattering that you've chosen someone's work as your sexy role-play avatar, your eating disorder inspiration or that someone's collection makes you feel like you're five.

In the case of age regression: we have a conflict of needs. Tumblr is full of people who are judged for embracing small joys like colourful clothes, fandom, crafts and toys. Choices that are acts of adult rebellion in a painful world.

Someone who says "you're so childish I don't think you can make adult decisions" and someone labelling your grown up, tax paying, hard-earned collection as [insert child based aesthetic] feels very similar and it's also going against the message: the point is that you can be a grown up and enjoy things, in fact that's what's being a grown up is for: you get to choose to do nice things for yourself, surround yourself with nice stuff in whatever space and time you can carve out from surviving. Please don't, not because agere is wrong but because it's projecting something about the OP that's counter to what they're trying to put out to the world.

6/ I’m open to conversation and learning. However, it’s ok to have boundaries and set boundaries for things your friends are sensitive to: it’s a delicate balance. Please assume good faith. Not taking a hard stance is not outright rejection/embrace of stuff: it’s saying I don’t know enough to have an educated opinion or I think there’s too much nuance to fit into a single sentence.

#saf #long post

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communistkenobi · 1 year

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The complement of the "no pity for the poor" complex is the overemphasis given to the education of people within the political sections of our inter-views. The frequent reference to this topic is the more significant since it does not appear in the interview schedule. Nobody will deny the desirability of political education. It is hard to overlook, however, that the ideal of education often serves as a rationalization for social privileges. People who do not want to confess to antidemocratic leanings prefer to take the stand that democracy would be all right if only people were educated and more "mature." This condition, naturally, would here and now exclude from political activities those who, on account of their economic situation, need most urgently a social change. This, of course, is never stated in so many words. If, however, as once happened, an overtly fascist man speaks in favor of the abolition of the poll tax in the South, and wants to replace it by an "intelligence test," there is little doubt about the ultimate purpose. The adulation of "education" occurs quite frequently among uneducated people perhaps because, for some reason beyond the scope of the present study, education has come to be a kind of a panacea in American ideology. None of our subjects ever takes the trouble of defining to what the mysterious "education" should refer: whether it pertains to the general educational level or whether some special kind of political education is envisaged and how it should be carried out.

The education complex is not confined to high or medium scorers but seems to be more frequent with them than with low scorers.

Everyone talks about education! It’s so weird. It’s one of those things I agree with on paper (people in North America are alarmingly, laughably politically ignorant, and broad educational programs to address that would improve political discourse by a lot), but the way “educational programs” gets deployed rhetorically, especially by liberals but also by left wing people, usually sounds deranged to me? I’m thinking of the suggestion of putting right wingers into educational gulags. A step above that is mandatory HR anti-discrimination training at work, but that is especially useless in non-unionised workplaces (ie, most workplaces). University seems to act as something of a corrective measure against the inadequacy of primary and secondary education in north america, but 1) that just reproduces class divisions, and 2) college-educated people are, by virtue of their class position, especially susceptible to fascism, so whatever political power education has is still subservient to class interests.

But despite all of that I still think universal political education is a good thing and would improve society. An informed electorate can be trusted with their government or whatever the quote was. Maybe that’s liberal idealistic horseshit in that particular configuration but like idk I think you quickly spiral into anti-intellectualism if you write off any educational solutions offered as a way to reduce right wing thought in society. If you take seriously the claim that communism is scientific I don’t think you can also believe that education is not valuable. If there was a policy platform that aimed to comprehensively overhaul the education system in order to provide every person with the equivalent of a liberal arts undergraduate degree for free, I would say that is a fantastic idea and would endorse that - even beyond the economic opportunities it would open up for people, I think there is inherent value in being educated about the world. But I don’t know how much that would actually reduce the amount of conservatives in the country, or to what degree it would reduce a person’s susceptibility to fascism

#the authoritarian personality

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thedammitch · 1 year

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Coming Up on Two Years.

It’s been nearly two years since I started streaming. What began as a way to force myself to do art again by using an audience as peer pressure has turned into something far more wonderful than I could have ever imagined.

Instead of just getting art done, I found new friends, and found my joy for art again; my love to create and share. You’ve helped me socialize when I was trapped at home, and gave me a social circle and network I’ve lacked for years as I was dealing with depression. You’ve helped me overcome so much of my depression, as working live with all of you gives me so much joy. The enthusiasm you show every night in my streams has made me want to push harder and do more, to learn new skills, and really push myself in new ways.

And, in all of it, I’ve had people tell me that I inspire them, that I’ve made a positive impact on their art, and their life. I’m so awestruck by that, that I don’t even know what to say! I’m flattered, and I’m honored, and I’m also humbled by seeing you grow, and seeing your love of creation! I am so, so happy to be here for you just as much as you’re here for me.

Art is a difficult field. It doesn’t pay well, and there are a lot of people who want to make art, and express themselves. I can’t express enough how much I love seeing the art community be largely one where we don’t look at each other as competition, but as a teammates, as compatriots in a venture we all enjoy. There’s so much we can learn from each other, and I’ve learned so much from all of you.

Streaming has introduced me to wonderful artists with whom I’ve become good friends, and it’s starting to open doors for me which I thought were closed long ago. Most of all, I feel that desire to create - to draw, write, joke, whatever - which was missing for so long in my life. You also helped me through a very tough time, the loss of a close friend and fellow artist. I don’t know if you realize how much you all have meant to me, but please know I never take anyone for granted, and I’m flattered each and every time one of you says hi in chat.

I used to wonder how streamers could recognize people in their community with thousands of followers, but having done this for almost two years now, and interacting with so many amazing and interesting people, I can see just how easy it is.

You remember the people you interact with. You become involved in their own journey, and cheer them on, and you WANT them to succeed. Every time one of you tells me you’re working on something, I don’t just say I hope it goes well because it’s a polite thing to say, but because I genuinely want it to go well for your sake! And I’m so excited when you share with me the results of whatever it is you did! Your creative journey is exciting to me, and I want you to know it, so you can be excited about it, too. And when things don’t go well, it’s just a way for us to learn how to approach things differently. Heck, you’ve seen me restart pieces, or redo stuff, or even just bin a project because it wasn’t going how I wanted. But I took what I learned from that failure and I applied it to a re-do, or to a new piece.

A failure is only as permanent as you let it be. Learn from it and try again, and a failure can quickly be forgotten, and a success put in its place. You’ve helped me push past so many perceived failures, and brought joy to me by encouraging me, by pushing me, and by telling some of the worst puns and dad jokes I’ve ever heard.

Please, never stop! And I promise not to stop, either. No matter what the new year holds for me, or what job I can finally land, I’m going to be here. You make my days better, and I only hope I can do the same for you.

I have a lot planned for the coming year. I’ve been working on a lot of stuff behind the scenes. There will be some format changes, but I think they’ll be for the best, and I really hope you’ll be as excited as I am about it!

Yeah, there’ll be more sponsorships. I can’t help it, I do honestly need the money, but I’m still going to be picky about it, and playful with it. Who knows, maybe I’ll even figure out how to actually make a living at this, lol!

Just hope you’ll have fun with me while we’re all along for the ride.

Thank you so much, every one of you.

-Mitch

P.S. - If you’ve come across this and are confused, why not drop a follow at https://www.twitch.tv/thedammitch !

#twitch #twitch streamer #thanks

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sing-backwards-and-weep · 2 years

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that post regarding “privilege of depth of ‘character’” vs “reductive limitations of ‘representation’” led me to this thinkpiece;

i believe there’s a stark difference between a narrative driven by a series of well-thought out conflict of interests, with a sufficiently nuanced level of political sentiment so as to be relatable - whether overt or subtextual, it really doesn’t matter - contrasted by a narrative driven by what is at best, shallow ideological zealotry - and at worst, the ideologically hollow appropriation of the aesthetics involved and associated with political thought, without any actual food for thought to offer

the criteria of conflict resolution also comes to mind - personally, i think good art is supposed to leave you with new ideas, not rob you of peace of mind by leaving unanswered questions - but this is a personal sentiment; don’t raise questions you don’t have answers for, it’s lazy as fuck.

that’s not to say that you need grandiose nobel-prize-winning social solutions to resolve the real problems of the real world, but within the scope of your narrative - and the real-world conflicts that vicariously drive its narrative - it’s vital that your heroes have some sense of direction and dedication for making the world a better place, rather than languishing in misery.

creative potential arises from the very nature of conflict - the drive to construct better solutions - and to default on your creative responsibility to contribute to the real-world conversation through your artistic vehicle (if it is your ambition to have something political to say) is a very a poor place to leave an audience.

personally, i think your heroes are supposed to be an extension and manifestation of your own creative potential - these are the creative forces that strive to build something better within the scope of whatever conflict to which you relate

examples of the first column include Fallout; New Vegas or Metal Gear Solid, because video game design falls the scope of my own personal concentration

Solid Snake is an interesting subversion of the idea of a hero who manifests creative potential, because instead of building something better, at the core of Snake’s internal conflict is his own realization of the fact that he was created as an agent of war and destruction; what he *does* with this tragedy, however, is turn his destructive potential against other agents of destruction - hunting down Metal Gears, turning his back on his country, etc - effectively clearing the way for future agents of creation by wiping away the mess they were born into - the best example of this is in the MGS4 microwave tunnel scene when he has a heart-to-heart with Raiden. if he cannot embody creative potential, he will destroy the destructive potential.

bringing this conversation back to its original talking point, what i’m basically delineating is the difference between meaningful and politically charged characterization versus hollow tokenism

as oft-disputed as this controversy is nowadays, my personal sentiments are that, while you can fill a story with as many tokenized minorities as you want, that alone isn’t enough to make your project progressive, and it doesn’t mean you actually have anything important to say. what’s worst is when an artist acts like they’ve said all they need to say simply by creating their tokens, as though it were a revolutionary act unto itself.

if you deny those minority characters an engaging level of personal depth and agency, nobody is going to want to invest in their potential - or your project - long enough to see where their story goes, because you’ve already shown your hand by revealing that their character arc stagnates and goes - surprise - nowhere beyond the static and superficial level of aesthetics. they instead become furnishing for the story you wish you knew how to tell, which is arguably worse than having never written them in the first place.

political questions aren’t aesthetic ones, they’re humanitarian and social ones - if you deny your character the qualities *of* character necessary to stimulate comprehensive and empathetic political thought - perspective, intelligence, compassion, drive, and passion - they’ll flop outright, and more often than not, in a way that is insulting to your audience, whose intelligence should be appreciated, never underestimated.

this isn’t to say that the aesthetics of political thought cannot work in conjunction with the actual nitty-gritty lore-work of political thought - in fact, that’s some champion level story-telling, to match aesthetics with subtext, that’s really the goal - but you can’t have one without the other, because by the same token that nobody wants to engage with one-dimensional political caricatures, nobody wants to slog through a treatise of meticulous political thought for entertainment, either

#neat

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qhazuban · 11 months

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thoughts as i read "savage tongues" by azareen van der vliet oloomi, part 3

i think the problem that i’m having with Azareen van der Vliet’s writing here is that there are a lot of great and important insights, but it’s written in the stream of consciousness perspective of someone who has already figured so much out — many of the questions have also already been figured out — even the acknowledgment that there is always more language to be languaged is already figured out. and this feels incomplete and a little boring at some point. i want to stay with the moments of total whiplash and confusion, where the narrator is in the thick of it.

and maybe it gets better, or there are parts like that — i have only begun the book — but it’s not a great sign that so many pages are already just in this retrospective “figured it out” “profound insight” mode. maybe it would seem more revelatory and radical if i had read it in college without much knowledge of these subjects (colonialism, feminism, the western gaze, orientalism, the ironies and devastations of desire and empire) — i expect so. which sounds haughty — like i’m saying i already know everything! lol. i really don’t.

but like. if it’s not a conversation. if it’s just an explanation, and that explanatory overstated style is being treated as a radical literary subversion, an intentional technique — and seems really profound for people who haven’t necessarily studied or lived these things so much — then ok, but it’s like, the irony is that it really is being written and expressed for a social milieu of erudite elitist westerners then — to restate and proclaim our findings. it really is. perhaps cross-cultural, diasporic ones, but the language of “i have figured out these profound insights about my pain and how history has inscribed it” etc etc, like, this is only really interesting if we genuinely ask questions and show that process, yeah i guess “show don’t tell” again, but i mean.. ugh! there’s *some* validity in that!

and i feel like there needs to be — some kind of scientific curiosity there, like let’s see what happens if we explore this event or train of thought or encounter or experience — beyond what we know, however profound our knowledge already is… hmm, and i can see the value of this book being a conversation among diasporic intellectuals, yes, but even then — like can there be more curiosity? peril in the unknowing? idk maybe i’m being too harsh, this is why i never fit in anywhere, i always start with critique!!!

and i do run into the problem where i presume too much, of course i do. (this is reminding me of that time i really launched into a critique of a couple of [a particular poet's] poems, after many of her poems i loved and was jealous of — and how she excoriated me for my critique, which definitely presumed too much, and i definitely overstepped! it’s so embarrassing to remember. although i do think her whole attitude that her work should somehow not be critiqued or whatever was also rather frustrating. but like, that was a clear example of me burning a bridge rather than being kind, but then again the bridge was nonexistent and it was all futile anyway. but anyway….)

i do wish it was actually just — like i wish we could get beyond whatever tenderqueer bullshit about active listening and somatic whatever and never critiquing anything and blah blah blah and be able to give honest critiques, ask difficult questions, of each other’s art and writing. like there has to be some kind of other way of doing things than just “no critique, only conscious affirmation and listening!” OR “i am going to rip this poem apart for its lack of literary sophistication according to elitist standards” …… and i think that that in-between needs to really tackle the personal, the vulnerable, the political that cannot be separated from who we are and who we are figuring ourselves out to be. like art *is* interpersonal. trying to be fucking professional about it is such capitalist imperialist bullshit!

#art is political #writing #trying to read #azareen van der vliet oloomi #savage tongues #literary world politics #critique

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toxicfucksaround · 1 year

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I posted 4,084 times in 2022

That's 1,802 more posts than 2021!

22 posts created (1%)

4,062 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@kengi-bengi-alt

@lesbiacebian

@fullmoonfireball

@borkthemork

@renthony

I tagged 854 of my posts in 2022

#digital art - 103 posts

#artists on tumblr - 96 posts

#nonbinary artist - 95 posts

#digital artist - 93 posts

#art - 81 posts

#nonbinary - 79 posts

#oc artist - 60 posts

#oc art - 57 posts

#procreate - 48 posts

#fanart - 45 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#take it back take it back take it back take it back take it back take it back take it back take it back take it back take it back take it ba

My Top Posts in 2022:

I swear to god if Twitter users come to me and yell at me for stupid shit

I will virtually pepper spray you

That’s right

I’ll block you!

With no warning!

Back off, twitter users!

14 notes - Posted October 27, 2022

Welcome to my blog!

My name is Max, I’m an oc artist who occasionally dabbles in fanart, oc x canon, and self ship shenanigans. If you don’t like that, that’s fine, just follow someone else instead.

Some general rules, bigotry of any kind will get you banned. Be kind and respectful. If I ever say something offensive please correct me, I’m doing my best but everyone makes mistakes, and I’d like to learn and grow from them. Just please be polite, thank you.

Blog Links

My main blog, you’re here!

My art blog, here

My mature art blog, No Minors, here

And my sims blog, here.

And the official blog for a story im working on called Tails of the Wicked.

Socials

My commissions are here!

Here’s my TikTok.

My YouTube channel.

My DeviantArt.

My Ko-Fi, if you’re able to donate or want a commission, let me know!

Some blog rules/things to keep in mind.

Harassment of any kind is not okay. If I do something wrong, correct me kindly, because I’m an idiot and probably don’t know what I did.

Bigotry of any kind is NOT allowed. I will block you. Any racism, lgbtphobia, all of it is not allowed. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE.

I do not give a fuck about pro shipping/anti pro shipping nonsense. Like I don’t care, as long as it’s properly tagged, and no real people are harmed, leave me alone. Don’t send me asks about it, I don’t care.

I am a strong believer that as long as something is properly tagged and out of reach of children, they’re free to do whatever they want with fiction. As long as no real people are harmed, that is. That includes writing fan fiction about real people, it’s gross, don’t do that.

But like, zadr? Don’t care, like. Fuck off. Are people shipping the undertale bros again? I don’t like it but also I can just, ignore it, and mind my own business. Dead dove don’t eat.

Idk I just feel like, tumblr gives us a good system to block tags, use it.

But yeah no DNI list because I just like, don’t care. If you bug me or upset me I’ll block but like

Anyone can come enjoy my shit, I need all the likes and reblogs I can get anyways lmaoo.

15 notes - Posted January 22, 2022

So, this is something I meant to share my opinion on for awhile, but I was nervous to bring negative attention to myself.

This is in regards to the Your Boyfriend fandom, more specifically, the official game and creator.

Tw now for brief mentions of sexual assault and abuse.

Now, I’m not gonna sit here and complain about how the game ruined the personality I came to Peter for or anything, because frankly, I like yanderes, I don’t really care. Am I kinda bummed he’s not as unique and interesting as before, yeah, but I don’t care about that.

What I do care about, is that Fuboo, the creator of Your Boyfriend, marketed Your Boyfriend Peter as a character that is friendly to survivors of sa and abuse, and to aromantic and asexual people through the blog (which is going to be deleted soon from what I heard). She got everyone attached to his interesting take on yanderes, only to turn around and pull day three on us.

For those unaware, day three of the game involves Peter admitting to sexually assaulting you in your sleep, and then using pointless violence on you in every route.

That on its own is fine, classic yandere stuff. The problem is, that again, Peter was marketed as survivor and Aro and Ace friendly. Specifically exposing survivors of abuse and sa to something that could trigger their trauma.

Yes there’s warnings in the game that it’s not for certain audiences, that warns of certain content, however, there is no warning on the site about sexual assault. None.

Technically sa and abuse survivors fall under the triggered category, however, I believe it’s irresponsible to not advertise that there’s mentions of sa in the game.

I understand that this is just the warnings for day 1, however, you should have the warning before any of these survivors get this game, in my opinion.

That and, well, it’s entirely unfriendly to aro and ace people now. I doubt any ace or aro people wanna see this freak go against their lack of love or sexual arousal like this. The blog specifically stated that he would just want to be your closest and only friend if you were aro or ace, so to see this is upsetting. I’m not aro or ace, but I did feel it was important to mention.

All of this is just to say, I am no longer supporting any of the canon or official YB content. I will stick by certain fan creators, but not Fuboo.

I will still probably make fan content myself in regards of loving my OC Mc too much to give them up but, that being said I’m probably gonna redesign my version of Peter to make him stand out from the original game version more.

If you’ve read this far, thank you, please try to keep things civil in the notes. I’m not looking to argue, or persuade others, just stating my opinion and stance on canon.

I have nothing against those who continue to support canon, I just cannot do it myself.

Thank you, I hope you all have a nice day.

25 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

Shout out to all the demiromantic people out there who never crushed on a celebrity but felt left out so they faked a crush to fit in.

Or to the demiros who always felt weirded out by the thirst of fans for celebrities.

To the demiros who think all these real people x fans fanfics are weird or uncomfy

The demiros who may have not experienced love

To the demiros who experienced love once years ago

The demiros who just experienced love for the first time

To the demiros in love with a best friend

The demiros in queer platonic relationships

To the demiros who only experience attraction to fictional characters

The demiros who don’t know what labels they are yet.

To all the Demiromantic people I have yet to mention

I rarely see anyone talk about being demiromantic

So to those who feel left out, here’s a post for you

I see you, I feel your experiences

You’re valid, you’re welcome in this community

You’re experiences are real, your label is real

You may not experience love the same way, but that’s okay

You’re okay.

Don’t let people tell you you’re too picky, or weird, or anything else people like to say.

In a world filled with an emphasis on romance, know you’re okay with, or without it.

Sometimes the best love, is self love, or platonic love.

Sincerely,

A fellow Demiromantic

46 notes - Posted May 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

LMAO LOOK WHAT ME AND MY BRO GOT IN OUR DHMIS HUNGER GAMES

115 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Damn you tumblr #my blog is so saddd

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