#true internet artifact

[mugenfinder]

"DMC3wallpaperforme" by Vampire 666

Uploaded: August 16, 2004

#dmc3 dante #DMC #Devil May Cry 3 #old web #wallpaper #2000s internet #true internet artifact #angelfire

[rachel-614]

Okay, let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time, there was a prose translation of the Pearl Poet’s Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It was wonderfully charming and lyrical and perfect for use in a high school, and so a clever English teacher (as one did in the 70s) made a scan of the book for her students, saved it as a pdf, and printed copies off for her students every year. In true teacher tradition, she shared the file with her colleagues, and so for many years the students of the high school all studied Sir Gawain and the Green Knight from the same (very badly scanned) version of this wonderful prose translation.

In time, a new teacher became head of the English Department, and while he agreed that the prose translation was very wonderful he felt that the quality of the scan was much less so. Also in true teacher tradition, he then spent hours typing up the scan into a word processor, with a few typos here and there and a few places where he was genuinely just guessing wildly at what the scan actually said. This completed word document was much cleaner and easier for the students to read, and so of course he shared it with his colleagues, including his very new wide-eyed faculty member who was teaching British Literature for the first time (this was me).

As teachers sometimes do, he moved on for greener (ie, better paying) pastures, leaving behind the word document, but not the original pdf scan. This of course meant that as I was attempting to verify whether a weird word was a typo or a genuine artifact of the original translation, I had no other version to compare it to. Being a good card-holding gen zillenial I of course turned to google, making good use of the super secret plagiarism-checking teacher technique “Quotation Marks”, with an astonishing result:

By which I mean literally one result.

For my purposes, this was precisely what I needed: a very clean and crisp scan that allowed me to make corrections to my typed edition: a happily ever after, amen.

But beware, for deep within my soul a terrible Monster was stirring. Bane of procrastinators everywhere, my Curiosity had found a likely looking rabbit hole. See, this wonderfully clear and crisp scan was lacking in two rather important pieces of identifying information: the title of the book from which the scan was taken, and the name of the translator. The only identifying features were the section title “Precursors” (and no, that is not the title of the book, believe me I looked) and this little leaf-like motif by the page numbers:

(Remember the leaf. This will be important later.)

We shall not dwell at length on the hours of internet research that ensued—how the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, grading abandoned in shadows half-lit by the the blue glow of the computer screen—how google search after search racked up, until an email warning of “unusual activity on your account” flashed into momentary existence before being consigned immediately and with some prejudice to the digital void—how one third of the way through a “comprehensive but not exhaustive” list of Sir Gawain translators despair crept in until I was left in utter darkness, screen black and eyes staring dully at the wall.

Above all, let us not admit to the fact that such an afternoon occurred not once, not twice, but three times.

Suffice to say, many hours had been spent in fruitless pursuit before a new thought crept in: if this book was so mysterious, so obscure as to defeat the modern search engine, perhaps the answer lay not in the technologies of today, but the wisdom of the past. Fingers trembling, I pulled up the last blast email that had been sent to current and former faculty and staff, and began to compose an email to the timeless and indomitable woman who had taught English to me when I was a student, and who had, after nearly fifty years, retired from teaching just before I returned to my alma mater.

After staring at the email for approximately five or so minutes, I winced, pressed send, and let my plea sail out into the void. I cannot adequately describe for you the instinctive reverence I possess towards this teacher; suffice to say that Ms English was and is a woman of remarkable character, as much a legend as an institution as a woman of flesh and blood whose enduring influence inspired countless students. There is not a student taught by Ms. English who does not have a story to tell about her, and her decline in her last years of teaching and eventual retirement in the face of COVID was the end of an era. She still remembers me, and every couple months one of her contemporaries and dear friends who still works as a guidance counsellor stops me in the hall to tell me that Ms. English says hello and that she is thrilled that I am teaching here—thrilled that I am teaching honors students—thrilled that I am now teaching the AP students. “Tell her I said hello back,” I always say, and smile.

Ms. English is a legend, and one does not expect legends to respond to you immediately. Who knows when a woman of her generation would next think to check her email? Who knows if she would remember?

The day after I sent the email I got this response:

My friends, I was shaken. I was stunned. Imagine asking God a question and he turns to you and says, “Hold on one moment, let me check with my predecessor.”

The idea that even Ms. English had inherited this mysterious translation had never even occurred to me as a possibility, not when Ms. English had been a faculty member since the early days of the school. How wonderful, I thought to myself. What a great thing, that this translation is so obscure and mysterious that it defeats even Ms. English.

A few days later, Ms. English emailed me again:

(I had, in fact searched through both the English office and the Annex—a dark, weirdly shaped concrete storage area containing a great deal of dust and many aging copies of various books—a few days prior. I had no luck, sadly.)

At last, though, I had a title and a description! I returned to my internet search, only to find to my dismay that there was no book that exactly matched the title. I found THE BRITISH TRADITION: POETRY, PROSE, AND DRAMA (which was not black and the table of contents I found did not include Sir Gawain) and THE ENGLISH TRADITION, a super early edition of the Prentice Hall textbooks we use today, which did have a black cover but there were absolutely zero images I could find of the table of contents or the interior and so I had no way of determining if it was the correct book short of laying out an unfortunate amount of cold hard cash for a potential dead end.

So I sighed, and relinquished my dreams of solving the mystery. Perhaps someday 30 years from now, I thought, I’ll be wandering through one of those mysterious bookshops filled with out of print books and I’ll pick up a book and there will be the translation, found out last!

So I sighed, and told the whole story to my colleagues for a laugh. I sent screenshots of Ms. English’s emails to my siblings who were also taught by her. I told the story to my Dad over dinner as my Great Adventure of the Week.

…my friends. I come by my rabbit-hole curiosity honestly, but my Dad is of a different generation of computer literacy and knows a few Deep Secrets that I have never learned. He asked me the title that Ms. English gave me, pulled up some mysterious catalogue site, and within ten minutes found a title card. There are apparently two copies available in libraries worldwide, one in Philadelphia and the other in British Columbia. I said, “sure, Dad,” and went upstairs. He texted me a link. Rolling my eyes, I opened it and looked at the description.

Huh, I thought. Four volumes, just like Ms. English said. I wonder…

Armed with a slightly different title and a publisher, I looked up “The English Tradition: Fiction macmillan” and the first entry is an eBay sale that had picture of the interior and LO AND BEHOLD:

THE LEAF. LOOK AT THE LEAF.

My dad found it! He found the book!!

Except for one teensy tiny problem which is that the cover of the book is uh a very bright green and not at all black like Ms. English said. Alas, it was a case of mistaken identity, because The English Tradition: Poetry does have a black cover, although it is the fiction volume which contains Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

And so having found the book at last, I have decided to purchase it for the sum of $8, that ever after the origins of this translation may once more be known.

In this year of 2022 this adventure took place, as this post bears witness, the end, amen.

(Edit: See here for part 2!)

#sir gawain and the green knight #translations #internet research #english literature #teaching things #dads are the best #long post #story telling #I STILL don’t know the name of the translator but I WILL find out #obscure books

[ineffectualdemon]

I know it's fanon to make Shen Yuan a big ole nerd (cause he is) but that's often brought together with him being kinda plain or attractive but not as attractive as Shen Qingqiu

But let me give you this idea

He's hotter than Shen Qingqiu by a LOT

He constantly describes his OG body as a "useless pretty boy"

Make him spoiled internet boy internet troll who tragically has the face of a young god

Like he's hopelessly pretty and he knows it he just doesn't put any real value in it because he was just born that way and did nothing to achieve it but it's all anyone else put value in about him

An artifact of true sight or inner soul or something makes people see Shen Yuan's OG looks in place of Shen Qingqiu and they are just stunned speechless by how pretty he is

except for Shang Qinghua who is like "pfft I saw the video of you faceplanting off a runway"

#sy: i was helping out a friend! im not a model! #svsss #shen qingqiu #shen yuan

[alexissara]

Recruiting Minthara Without Doing A War Crime - BG3

Opening Disclaimer: I do not know every variable, I am sharing what I did to recruit Minthara in BG3 since basically every guide in the internet is wrong and says you must do a war crime to recruit MInthara. You will lose out on the Minthara post battle sex scene and she remains mutually exclusive with Halsin you either have her or him but she can be obtained as a party member and even has exclusive voiced dialogue for Karlache and Wyll whom many say you are also locked out of to recruit her. Also this is totally intentional and accounted for but in my personal run I am getting some bugs, idk if it's an everyone issue or a me issue the game is still very new.

To Attack The Grove or to Kill Everyone In The Goblin Camp, that is the question, one that needs not an answer. You can do quests in both places, talk to Minthara, and more and still walk away from this fight.

All you need to do is simply progress the plot ignoring these two binary options. You'll need to ensure Minthara does not know the location of The Druid Grove so for me the way I did it was I rescued Sazza then killed her in the goblin camp before she could rat out the location and turn on me right before she would have walked me over to MInthara. It triggered a small fight but I destroyed the drums they played to trigger an alarm and have everyone fight me meaning I only had to kill four Goblins or so. I went to talk to Minthara and told her I had no clue where the druid grove or her item were but i'd totally look into it. I grabbed everything I wanted from the Goblin camp and before that did all of the Tiefling kid side quests except stealing the artifact in The Druid grove, upgraded Karlache's infernal engines, looked around everywhere I could. I did not at any point meet or talk to Halsin.

Then from there I simply went to the Underdark, you may be be able to take the Gith path instead, idk I didn't do it but I personally went to The Underdark by way of Feather Falling in the Phase Spider Monarch's layer down into it. From there I found some slavers, killed them and stole their boat. I sailed away to a forge where more slavers were living, I helped them save a true soul, helped the true soul kill them and then killed The True Soul. With that I was on my marry way and entered act 2. This I believe triggers time to have progressed in the game and everything will have gone into motion. I wanted to be sure though that I had done everything correctly so I headed to Moon Rise towers as fast as I can. I did some fights, got to the tower and found Minathara getting yelled at by her boss and thrown into a prison. In the prison two women are trying to wipe her mind. I killed all the guards before trying to help her out in the prisons area and freed some other prisoners. Stole a bunch of stuff then went to the girl herself. I then killed the people trying to brainwash her after talking to them for a little, walked out with Minthara, the guards at multiple times were like "why the fuck do you have Minthara" I smooth talk my way out of each situation, we leave moonrise and I tell her she can stay in our camp. From there she is a party member.

The game suggests you don't bring Minthara back into Moonrise Towers with you, I have got some light glitches on my own run when going to areas that are before you can normally recruit minthara and going to camp sometimes she spawns over at The Goblin camp where you first meet her. The Goblins seem to be basically fine so what happened with the tiefling and druids. Well the tieflings were forced to leave the druid grove but they were gonna do that anyway and the same quests are triggered as if you didn't do that as far as I undertand. I have met one of the tieflings already in act two and they were not mad at me for not helping the grove. The grove however did do the ritual and is no longer accessible. I will update this when I enter Baulder's Gate if I find out I like idk caused the death of a bunch of characters for not siding with either but I don't think I cased any deaths at all, I think I spared the most lives, the most peaceful bitch.

I want to end of the note that there is more to Minthara than Girlboss, Gaslight, Gatekeep. She for narrative reasons is a fun character to have. She is cold for sure but I think the game does a pretty good job justifying it and you can see right away glimmers of her warming up. In terms of a party member her kit is interesting, she starts with tadepoles already in her head so if you were totally avoiding them like me you'll be able to see a few of the powers in action given you have no option to remove them from her.

#BG3 #bg3 spoilers #baulders gate 3 #minthara #Minthara BG3 #Minthara

[queer-irritator]

Imagine Kratos discovers it's your Birthday...

Kratos finds out when your birthday is. He has fond memories of celebrating birthdays and other holidays as a child. It was perhaps the only time he was surrounded by joy and he had a break from spartan training.

You told Kratos to not make a big deal about your birthday. All you wanted was to spend time with him, Atreus and your friends, and share a meal together.

However, Kratos’ Greek hospitality and love for you would not allow him to settle for a small celebration. 

The weeks leading up to your birthday, he’d keep an eye out on his excursions to find gifts for you. Any artifacts, jewelry, or pottery he thought you would like got scooped up and taken back home.

He would also go out of his way to gather any supplies and ingredients he needed to give you a proper celebration.

One month before your birthday, Kratos had gotten some grapes, honey, and spices to make up a bottle of wine so it would be ready just in time for your birthday.

The night before your birthday he would sneak out of bed to bake you a classic honey cake, as tradition from his homeland. He would add something extra to make it special, maybe some nuts, fruit, or wine. Whatever he thought you would like the best. 

The morning of your birthday Kratos would enter the room the two of you shared, holding a cake with as many candles as years you’ve been alive, plus one. 

Kratos would tell you, “Χρόνια Πολλά, Ό,τι επιθυμείς” meaning Happy Birthday; that he wishes you many more years to celebrate, and that all your hopes and desires come true.

You would thank him and blow out your candles, wishing for every birthday to start out this way.

---

A/N: It’s my birthday today, so I did some online digging about how long birthdays have been celebrated and if the ancient greeks celebrated birthdays. I found out they probably would have, at least around the time Kratos was growing up, somewhere in early 500BCE. This is all just random internet searches, not meant to be taken too seriously of course. I found that they may have started to celebrate mortals birthdays (not just gods) at least around 200BCE. They would bake cakes in the shape of the moon and but candles on it and light them so it shone like the moon as well. This was used as an offer to the goddess Artemis, the goddess of childbirth. Apparently the Greeks were always known to throw good parties with lots of gifts, wine and cake, so let’s turn up.

#god of war #god of war ragnorak #gow #gowr #kratos x reader #atreus #kratos #kratos x gn reader #gow fanfic #god of war fanfic #god of war fanfiction #god of war kratos #gow imagine #kratos imagine #gowr imagine #god of war imagine #god of war ragnarok imagine #gow birthday #god of war birthday #happy birthday #birthday

[cinema-hallucinations]

Prompt: Write a movie concept involving Sam Reich's (more specifically his persona as a mildly demented game show host on Dropout) journey into manic supervillainy and the ensuing over-the-top ridiculous clashes with his archnemesis: Brennan Lee Mulligan.

Title: Dropout or Die: The Sam Reich Ascension

Tagline: Discover the true Reich of chaos

Logine: Dropout kingpin Sam Reich, fueled by a potent blend of Mountain Dew and existential dread, ascends to supervillainy. Now, armed with a nonsensical army of internet randos and armed with a twisted version of his game shows, he challenges his archnemesis, the wholesomely heroic Brennan Lee Mulligan, to a series of increasingly ridiculous battles for the fate of the internet.

Characters:

Sam Reich: The once-beloved host of Dropout, now a manic supervillain obsessed with proving the superiority of internet culture. He wields outdated memes and viral trends as his weapons.

Brennan Lee Mulligan: The wholesome and athletic champion of all that is good on the internet. He uses his teamwork skills and genuine charisma to counter Reich's chaotic schemes.

The Dropout Army: A ragtag group of internet personalities, gamers, and forum dwellers, manipulated and fueled by Reich's promises of internet domination.

The Algorithm Avengers: Brennan's team of allies, including a conspiracy theory-debunking librarian, a teenage coding prodigy, and a surprisingly buff cat influencer.

Plot:

Sam Reich, the host of the increasingly unhinged game show "You Don't Know Jack," snaps. Fueled by a potent concoction of Mountain Dew, existential dread, and the pressure to stay relevant, he discovers a hidden internet artifact – the "Scroll of Clickbait." This ancient scroll grants him the power to manipulate the very fabric of online trends and memes.

Corrupted by power, Reich declares himself "Overlord of the Algorithm" and vows to reshape the internet in his twisted image. His first target? His former co-host and foil, Brennan Lee Mulligan, the embodiment of wholesome online content.

Reich unleashes a series of absurd challenges based on warped versions of his game shows. Contestants are forced to participate in real-life "Wikipedia Races" with dodgeball-wielding librarians, decipher nonsensical riddles based on outdated memes, and navigate obstacle courses filled with internet trolls.

Brennan, ever the champion of good, rallies his own team – The Algorithm Avengers. They consist of an unlikely bunch: a conspiracy theory-debunking librarian with surprising martial arts skills, a teenage coding prodigy who can manipulate social media algorithms, and a surprisingly buff cat influencer with a massive online following.

Each battle is a hilarious spectacle of internet culture come to life. Reich throws everything at Brennan – weaponized cat videos, comment section arguments manifested as physical beings, and a sentient pop-up ad monster. Brennan counters with clever use of teamwork, witty banter, and the unexpected tactical advantage of catnip grenades (courtesy of the buff cat influencer).

The climax involves a showdown within a virtual reality game show arena created by Reich. Brennan and his team must navigate a series of challenges that parody classic internet experiences – from navigating a comment section filled with angry trolls to escaping a pop-up ad labyrinth. In the end, it's not brute force that wins, but Brennan's genuine connection with the online community. He uses his social media influence to expose Reich's manipulations, causing the internet users to abandon him.

Themes:

The power and pitfalls of internet culture.

The importance of genuine connection and collaboration.

The fight against manipulation and misinformation online.

Humor:

Slapstick humor based on internet memes and online experiences come to life.

The absurdity of Reich's schemes and his reliance on outdated internet trends.

Witty banter and self-referential humor referencing Dropout shows and internet culture.

Ending Scene:

A defeated Reich, stripped of his powers, is forced to return to hosting a low-budget web series about obscure historical facts. Brennan, hailed as the champion of the internet, celebrates with his team. However, in a post-credits scene, a shadowy figure emerges from the dark corner of the internet, holding a mysterious artifact – a dusty VHS tape labeled "Myspace Mayhem." The figure cackles, hinting at a future villain even more terrifying than the Overlord of the Algorithm.

#ai generated #stupid ideas #shitpost #imaginary movie #google gemini #movie poster #poster #genre: superhero #genre: comedy #memes #sam reich #dropout #brennan lee mulligan #superheroes #the algorithm #sequel remake or adaptation #descent into madness

[glitchphotography]

Ok, I’m going to write one last thing about AI Art. This time, with no trolling or sassy memes. So I hope y’all can read it with an open mind.

So there was considerable pushback to my previous post and there were some very valid POVs. To the people who said stuff like “AI is being used unethically and I don’t want to f_ck with it,” Yes! You are right to feel this way and I respect that position. It’s equally valid to say “AI is being used unethically, so I want to explore the limits of this technology and how it affects the world we live in.” and it’s also equally valid to say “AI allows me to concept and source visuals that I can then process into my own artworks.”

But here’s the thing. There is more than one kind of visual art practice and many of them are not existentially threatened by generative image AIs. If anything, the artists who are threatened by this tech are the ones who make a living off of making representational imagery for a number of cultural industries. This in itself is a privileged position that isn’t afforded to most visual artists. Many artists who exhibit and publish around the world don’t get the opportunity to live off of their work, they have to teach or work in adjacent industries to survive. This is especially true for new media artists like myself.

That said. It’s obvious that these generative image AIs are quite adept at simulating visual data. But anyone who has used Midjourney or Dalle2 can attest, there’s so much that these AIs can’t and won’t do. Visual art is not just the mechanical simulation of visual style.

Here’s what generative image AIs can’t do, it can’t create images with a sense of:

Concept

Materiality (Physical or Digital)

Criticality 

Yes, it also can’t create hands and it’s not that great at drawing Black people either. But more importantly, AI can’t imagine what it means to work with materials, whether it’s the scratched up photos of Adrian Piper, or the glitch artifacts of a specific image format. Generative image AIs can’t create conceptual art and it can’t look at or arrange images in a critical way. What I’ve noticed is that many artists (not all ofc) who work on these levels of meaning are not threatened by AI, many of them see it as an interesting tool that they may or may not use. Working with these layers of meaning is what keeps artists ahead of the curve in terms of how these automated technologies are developed.

There were similar hysterics with the advent of photography, and it took many decades for photography to be accepted as an art form. “You just have to push a button,” they’d say. “Photography is going to kill the fine art of painting.” yada yada. Photography certainly didn’t kill painting, if anything, painting was freed from the burden of representation. We wouldn’t have cubism, or suprematism, or abstract expressionism, or pop art without the development of photography. It’s true that many portrait artists lost their gigs with photography, but overall humanity’s creative drive survived and flourished.

(Side note: Generative image AIs are going to eff up photography in many ways, some scary, and I think as a post-photography artist, it’s important to interrogate these dynamics rather than disavow it. But that’s my imperative. Stock photogs and some fashion photogs are going to get screwed, but not photojournalists or documentary photogs as much.)

So yes. Generative image AIs are basically appropriation machines and, as far as appropriation machines go, its like the equivalent of a visual art sausage maker. It averages all the images scraped from the internet into a kind of fast-food aesthetics.

But here’s the rub. Generative image AIs can’t imagine what doesn’t already exist. Every output is the result of averages from existing visual data . AI will never replace an unfettered imagination. This is another reason why the whole NO AI ART movement doesn’t speak for all artists, because many of us are striving create images that haven’t been created before.

But I get it, this is Tumblr, and since the great purge of 2018 the dominant aesthetic has been fandom-based art, which relies on borrowed aesthetics much in the same way that AI does. I think the reality is that many artists who work in this niche are going to get royally f_cked and my heart goes out to them. It won’t be the AIs that do the f_cking, but the IP owners like DisneyMarvel, Sony, Epic Games, Nintendo, etc . They will be the first to use generative image AIs so that they can save money by not hiring artists. This will be especially tragic for the privileged few who went to art school to land industry jobs.

These existential threats to artists are ultimately a question of labor rights as opposed to technology.(UNIONIZE!) Appropriation is literally the engine that drives all art from the beginning of time. Every artistic tradition has grown because of appropriation. Whether it’s blues or classical music, Shakespearean tragedy, renaissance paintings, pop art, conceptual art, hip-hop, you name it, there has been appropriation. The question about whether appropriation is good or not, is a question of where capital is flowing to. Like Rock n Roll is crap because it channeled capital from a Black musical tradition to the hands of white musicians. But hip-hop was great because sampling (a real art form, like AI art) became the basis or a whole new urban Black musical tradition that would bring some capital back, eventually from the sampled sounds of white musicians. Ofc this is a simplistic summary, look at how long it took Biz Markie to get royalties, etc 

So yes, Generative Image AI Services are appropriating art works in ways that are harmful to some artists and these artists should get royalties every time their name is conjured up in a text prompt. But I’m sorry, this doesn’t mean that “artworks are being stolen.” Nothing has been stolen.

What people don’t realize was that many of these image models were created years ago. Data was scraped from the internet on a mass scale and this was all legally sanctioned because of Fair Use Laws that protect researchers who want to scrape data. These datasets, like LAION-5B which itself is based off the Common Crawler dataset, are open source and freely available. They were created for research purposes within research settings and that is totally legitimate. Fair Use Laws are essential to artists and data scraping is one of those things that can be used for good or evil. But the way these AI models were trained was completely legal. What is ethically dubious and f_cked up is how corporations used these legal mechanisms designed to help artists and researchers to create a privatized service product. Again, this is why I say, “you don't hate AI Art, you hate capitalism”

The reality is that an artist can copyright an image, but not a general style. This idea that every artist on ArtStation has some inalienable originality and uniqueness to their work is the result of a hyper-individualistic capitalist ideology that is utterly out of touch with how art has been historically produced. Since the advent of mechanical reproduction, the magical aura of the art work has long been dead. Authenticity and originality are marketing buzzwords and not facts.

These “AI stole my art” arguments are crouched in a deeply regressive view of copyright and intellectual property, because very few artists, if any, would be able to prove in court that an AI plagiarized their works. AIs are sophisticated averaging machines, so the more an artist’s work appears to be copied, the more datapoints of their works and similar works exist in the training model. Proving that AI “steals art works” would also mean dismantling Fair Use Laws, which actually protect artists from predatory corporate IPs. 

Digital remix culture, fan art, hentai, all the things you dearly love and breathe on this Tumblr site would evaporate without Fair Use and it’s hella naive to think that if one of these illustrators actually proves that AI “stole their work,” that Disney and Studio Ghibli and Nintendo won’t come around and say that illustrators are in turn stealing their precious IPs. Copyright laws exist to protect the ruling class. There’s a reason why all us lefty new media artists release works as CC. (Side note: Still waiting to see an artist from the Global South make a “AI steals my arts” argument, so far i’ve only seen US and EU-based artists fret.)

And there is a sad irony in all of this. None of my works were used to train AI even though Tumblr was among the sites that were scraped. (I never used ArtStation or Deviant Art bc they don’t eff with experimental media artists) The reason is that there’s a preference for images that are algorithmically legible. The effed up reality of internet platforms is that algorithms judge your images before distributing them. Glitch art and experimental media arts are usually judged to be low quality content by the instagrams and tumblrs of the world. I had like 200 abstract images flagged during the great purge of 2018 that I appealed and won, because these algorithms don’t have a clue about what is art and what isn't. Everything on ArtStation, stock image websites, are easily legible by nature, and as such, easy to algorithmically appropriate. Artists who know how to create works that are algorithmically illegible will thrive in the post-AI era.

And this leads me to my final point. Many artists, like myself, are drawn to AI for what I call “Liminal Aesthetics.” It’s not about how good the AI can approximate an image, but how bad it is. Many of us are interested in these mal-nourished images. The weird faces and hands, the lack of proportions, the weird shapes, and unexpected textures. The thing though, is that as these generative image AIs get more advanced, the liminal aesthetics are lost. The more these AIs get better at parsing natural language, the more basic and unaesthetic the outputs. So for many artists, this AI moment is temporary. As DALLE2 and MidJourney will ultimately turn into a fancy clip art generator that will replace stock image and stock graphics sites, from iStock to Sketchfab. That’s why I think it’s important to embrace this shit now, because these gorgeous liminalities will soon be a historical artifact.

To conclude, I will say this, and this is very important. The trad art world and their system of values is dying. In the post-digital world of infinite images that aren’t bound by physical scarcity, the rarest and most valuable images are the ones that are remembered, shared, and viralized. If your art is being copied or replicated, even by an AI or a bot, that means that your art is surviving this new era. There are worse fates than having your art copied.

That worst fate is censorship and forgetting.

The image at the top is [ILLUSTRATION #4j2492D] by jonCates, he describes ths AI work as “The Artificially Illustrated Glitch Western Primer for Machine Learnerrs,” and it’s part of a much broader project of creating the first “Glitch Western” based on historical narratives of Black and Chinese people in the West. Most of this project isn’t AI-based imagery, but lovingly crafted video and game art.

Some may not know this, but jonCates was big on Tumblr before the purge of 2018. He’s an og glitch artist and his “Dirty New Media” tumblr was a veritable museum of lewd glitch arts. I remember being so proud when my boo’s glitched bootie ended up on that page. The site was a treasure. Sadly though, Tumblr deleted all record of the Dirty New Media blog as well as jonCates’ tumblr of personal work. All f_cking gone forever. This is the real tragedy of censorship and forgetting. A whole culture lost. 

So why cling to this destructive dynamic because you read a hot take about AI by a privileged artist working in gatekeeping industries? What is copied and appropriated can still live on and we all can do better and fight the power where it resides instead of vilifying other artists. Cheers, shout out to everyone who read all this <3

#ai art #ai art debate #art history #essay #art criticism #ai art is not art #joncates #glitch art

[effymaybe]

Mon’s curiosity leads her home. Luckily, Sam is already waiting for her.

Warning: Sam being a vampire, +18, Sam being a romantic

-

Mon has got a curious soul. It has been evident since she was only a child, eager to drink up fact after fact under the amused gazed of her -still together- parents. She would read everything and anything she could get her little hands on, ready to hide in the most unsuspected spaces to go through her sacred reading sessions without major distractions. Little Mon grew up, went through sorrowful moments, built her own bubbles of happiness, and learned how to be her true sunny self without letting other take advantage of her generous nature. And she kept her curiosity, which has proved to be mostly beneficial for her studies, although it has indeed led her to quite debatably unsafe situations.

Like, for example, right at this moment, when she’s walking on a muddy ground with only her light backpack on and a shaky flashlight illuminating her way through the depth of a misty night. In her defense, that questionable tourist guide shouldn’t have pointed at the exact castle she’s now walking to from the comfort of their tour bus only to say “this one is not available”. Mon had questions. Of course she had questions. How could the rest not have them? But the man merely shot her an attempt of a charming smile and told her that the area was not included in any historical tour ever because “it is hard to get to”.

So Mon -optimistic, strong-headed Mon- is testing this argument by herself. So far, difficult track, yes, but not impossible. Her boots dig into the wild soil and she has so narrow her sight to see just a meter into the distance. The air is dense, cold. Mon feels her lungs staring to strain a bit. She makes a brief pause to inhale deeply and searches almost unconsciously for the stone castle sitting at the top of the uneven hill she has memorized. She doesn’t see it, of course, with all the mist numbing the moonlight, and right then it almost seems like it was never there, that it was mystical artifact that her imagination pieced together only to fuck with her.

But Mon knows better, and she keeps willing her legs to walk up, up, up.

The truth is, Mon may be a bit obsessed. There is something about the mystery, about the way she felt when she saw the castle for the first –and only- time, the fact that there is no information anywhere, not in the internet, not in the seven libraries she spent hours in with the hope of finding something. Nowhere. She has dreamed about the castle. She has been thinking about it almost constantly, sometimes sinking into rushes that made shivers crawl up her skin. There is such a pull, such an energy calling from within the depth of its stone carcass that she finds herself like this, sinking into the darkness to avoid a serious fine for trespassing property.

But it will be worthy, Mon thinks, and she gets closer and closer, until the silhouette of the castle is already visible, and she feels… she feels. It is excitement. It is a pang of fear. It’s a need, something that makes her mouth dry, and Mon is a smart girl, she knows that she is in potential danger, but she comes to stand in front of a massive, impotent door and she’s joyful. She reaches with unsure fingers to caress the pattern of the wood. There are symbols that she doesn’t recognize and the thought dampens her happiness. She should know more. She should know it all, figure this intriguing place up, write it somewhere, take account of every single detail, the indents on the blocks, the lights pulsating dimly through the windows.

Mon frowns.

Her gaze fixes on the yellowish glow dying in the night. There is someone inside, most likely living in the castle. Mon takes a startled step back. She feels undoubtedly drawn, tied to her curiosity, but there is no way she’s going to force her way inside someone’s home. So she’s about to leave, inexplicably disheartened, when a chirring sound begins to echo through the mist. The gate opens slowly, then, painfully, wood cracking in an effort that it seemingly hasn’t made in years. And Mon stands in front of it stunned, her lips parted in surprise as she takes in a giant, cozy gallery equipped with the most luxurious furniture she has seen in her life.

Mon hesitates. Then, she takes a step inside. She cannot consider the gesture exactly an invitation. Hell, she hasn’t even made herself known, and nobody is really waiting for her at the other side. But it is so warm inside, so beautiful. There is a faint smell of jasmine wrapping around her senses. She takes another step inside, marveled. The pictures are simple, wonderfully framed. There is a mixture of time periods, seats from the 17th century, chests from centuries prior, art belonging to rococo. There are ostentatious carpets, polished chandeliers, scented candles melting on expensive holders. Mon can only guess that the owner must be a collector, someone both well formed in the arts and impressively rich, and it is in the midst of this thought that the gate closes in a thud just behind her back.

She should be afraid, but the place is… so beautiful. So familiar. She lets her backpack fall on the floor. Her eyes trace the room and she finds it pleasing. Everything is where it should be. The light, the cushions, the energy floating around. Mon is not home, but- why does it feel like this? Why does she feel like she could take a nap in the couch, watch the fire crackle, be embraced, be loved-

“Good evening”.

Mon gasps. Her whole body jolts up at the deep voice demanding her attention and she turns around and sees…her.

God, she thinks. God, god. Watching her stands the most beautiful creature she has ever seen. Her raven hair falls in careful pieces down her back. Her eyes are powerful, gorgeous, full of a quiet passion that has Mon shaking. Her nose is perky, perfectly small within her sharp features and her mouth, God, so luscious, plump and reddened. She’s wearing a black silken robe that kisses her thigs. It’s wrapped tightly around her perfect figure. Mon shouldn’t be staring, but she’s in a total daze. She wants to kneel. She was to burn red and fade away, never to disturb a fragment of such perplexing beauty.

But the creature waits, her mouth curled down as she breathes deeply, and Mon regains her senses in deep embarrassment.

“Hi- hello. Good evening. Sorry”.

It comes out in a breathless rush and Mon’s cheeks heat up. The creature in front of her and inhales, sets her jaw, purses her lips before licking them. Mon wonders if she made her mad.

“Sorry. My name is Mon. I didn’t mean to intrude. The gate opened and- I just really like the place. I don’t know. I’m not a burglar! I’ll just- I’ll just leave”.

She turns around almost frantically but she doesn’t make it anywhere.

“No!”

Mon’s eyes widen at the short command. It comes out almost as if in desperation. She wants to question it, to take a step back, but the woman walks closer to her and… and she obeys.

“Stay”.  Mon tilts her head lightly. “I’m Marchioness Samanan”. She makes a slight pause. “Sam. Sam is alright”.

Mon nods hesitantly, feeling sweat forming in the palms of her hands. She cannot take her eyes away from her. Sam stares back with the same intensity, overwhelming her. There is something palpable between them, pulling, pulling.

Sam steps closer. Mon is invaded with the desire of letting her touch her.

“You said you like the castle”. Sam comments. Mon needs a moment to thread two thoughts together.

“Yes. I saw it in a tour”.

Sam narrows her eyes. Her gaze drifts to Mon’s nose, her cheeks, her lips. She keeps moving and Mon’s breath grows ragged. She cannot be real. She cannot be human.

“This building is not included in any excursion. I made sure of it. It belongs to me”.

She growls lowly and Mon feels it shaking her deeply. She’s melting, helpless, and Sam comes to stand an inch away from her body. She uses all her willpower not to reach out, not to jump into her arms, no matter how much she desires it, how natural it comes to her mind. It isn’t right, it isn’t right, but it’s so, so alluring.

“I know”, she manages, “I just saw it passing, and I tried to look for information, and then-”

“Then you had your dreams”, Sam finishes.

Mon should be surprised, terrified, full of dread. Sam holds her chin in two strong fingers and Mon cannot think straight.

“Poor soul, you must have been so lost. Desperately longing to be here, safe and warm. I bet that you thought about it. I bet that you were so confused as for why it was eating you alive, consuming every single of your hours”.

Sam’s face draws closer. Mon can smell her sweet perfume, see all the details carefully sitting on her perfect face. Her own skin jumps under Sam’s cool touch. Mon barely remembers how she got there. She barely remembers anything else. Everything is Sam, her smooth voice, her vice grip. Mon’s eyes brim with tears just because it’s too much and not nearly enough. She wants to succumb. She wants to be consumed.

“Mon”, Sam says finally, and Mon almost faints. Say it again, she wishes silently, say it again, and again, and again. “Tell me”, Sam commands. “Speak up”.

Mon takes in air through her mouth. Sam’s eyes fix on her parted lips. “Who are you?”, she asks finally. “What are you? What’s this? Why do I feel… like this?”

Sam’s stare softens. She looks at her with such a tenderness that makes every single of Mon’s walls crumble down in defeat. A strong arm curls itself around her waist and Mon sinks into it mindlessly.

“Oh, my love. You know”. In a swift movement, Sam’s greedy mouth latches on Mon’s exposed neck. She mewls, surprised, struck by pleasure. Mon wants to give up everything. She tilts her head just for Sam to get more access to her skin and she feels her moaning against her throat, clearly affected. “You know, you know”, Sam mumbles. Then, she sucks again, frenzied. The hand that was holding Mon’s chin grasps her nape tightly. “Why you came here. What you were searching for. Me. It’s me, Mon”.

And Mon does know, suddenly. It comes crashing down suddenly, in a million shooting stars, and it grows and grows in her chest. Sam pulls her into a soaring kiss, then, and all her thoughts are a tangled mess. Nothing stands relevant besides the warmth of Sam’s mouth, the way that she’s devouring her, broken in hunger, and all she can do is take it, take it, take it.  Mon circles Sam’s neck with her arms and feels the grip on her waist strengthening, bordering pain in the most delicious way. Sam licks into her mouth and Mon grunts, gone. Sam’s hands caress her figure in desperation, palms her breast, digs blunt nails into her skin. Mon hisses, bites her lower lip, grinds her hips against Sam’s and she can’t take it anymore.

“I need you”, she pants. It makes no sense. None of that makes sense. The way she’s pliant under this woman’s- this creature’s wishes. “I need you, Sam. Please”.

Sam looks delighted. She pulls away to lock an enamored gaze with Mon’s open expression.

“You’ll have me, my darling”, her hands rush to untie Mon from her clothes. Undeserving, useless, a damned barrier, in Sam’s eyes. She wants to have Mon bare, ready for her, endlessly pure under her condemned touch. Mon complies eagerly. She wants out of her clothes, too. “You’ll have me in any way you desire”, Sam tells her, and then dives into sucking her collarbones. She smells so fucking good. “And I’ll have you just like I want, too”.

Mon gasps when Sam suckles on her chest. She’s pulsing, vulnerable, electric. Sam leads her to the couch and she falls on it in a guided gesture, wanting nothing but to feel her cold skin sliding against her.

“Please- please take off yours, too. I need- I need it. I don’t-”

She hiccups and Sam grasps her face with steady fingers. Her sweet angel, lovely soul, she has nothing to fear. Not anymore.

“Yes, love. Anything for you. Don’t you worry”. She makes a quick work on her own robe straddling Mon’s thigs. “I’m here already”.

Mon wants to chant. She wants to laugh with joy and cry out of relief, and burry her fingers in Sam’s core, and let herself be wrecked, again and again. God, she’s gone for. Sam looks so stunning pressed on her legs, baring her gorgeous figure just for Mon to see. It’s a gift, an offering. Mon’s mouth waters before Sam kisses her once again, deep and needy. A frosty touch squeezes her breasts, travels lower, plays with her folds cruelly. Mon can only arch up, frustrated, groaning brokenly. On top of her, Sam pants, dives into her neck and tongues at her pulse point.

“Mon”, she rasps out. Mon nods desperately. “I need this darling. I can’t hold back anymore. You smell-”, she gasps loudly, suckles on her neck with abandon. Sam presses her long fingers on Mon’s core and she would give her anything, anything.

“Yes, yes. Fill me up, please”

And Sam does, rough and steady, still attached to her throat, wondering how she got so damn lucky.

“I waited for so long, Mon, my only hope. I’ve waited for fucking centuries”. Each couple of words is a deep thrust that has Mon clenching in desperation. She loves it. She loves the roughness, the words, Sam’s mouth desperately latching on everywhere. “Now I have you”, she mumbles against her mouth. There is fire in her words, a strand of addiction. Mon moans when Sam curls her fingers inside her and pulls on her lower lip with a nip. “You’re all mine now, Mon. Finally. I’m just- you are so perfect, angel. So ready for me. All mine”.

And yes, Mon is so ready for her. She’s so, so ready. She tangles her hands in Sam’s locks and pushes her down, chanting her hips desperately. She just needs something else, something that is calling from the back of her head. It hurts. It’s so wonderful but it keeps burning, growing endless, and Mon needs a bit more, needs to give herself up right, needs-

“Bite me”, she begs. “Bite me, bite me. Drink me up. Please, Sam”.

Sam moans. Of course her sweet love would ask her that. She’s so perfect, made for her. They are just made for each other.

So she noses her throat, inhales deeply, lets herself enjoy her last strand of self-control while she keeps thrusting into Mon in a steady rhythm. Mon squirms under her, mewls, curls her toes. Sam can’t take it anymore. Her fangs extend pointy and sharp before sinking into Mon’s sensitive skin, making her moan out in a sting of pain. So good, so good, Mon thinks in a frenzy, and then Sam thumbs her clit and a rush of spit enters her bloodstream, and Mon feels white, endless pleasure jolting through her whole body. She groans from the back of her throat and shakes violently between Sam’s strong arms, bathing in the words whispered in her ears.

“Fuck, Mon. Fuck. You taste to fucking good”. Sam drinks her up with abandon before peppering kisses along her skin. “You are just delicious. Everything about you. I can’t wait to taste you all over”.

Mon settles down just like that, nestled in caring arms, filled with pompous compliments. It makes her feel so nice, so safe. She doesn’t remember the last time everything fell into perfect pieces like this. Sam moves her body so she can lie on top of her and it’s even warmer. It shouldn’t be, she thinks faintly, with Sam’s cool skin kissing her own, but there is suddenly a blanket covering her body, and there are nice hands running through her back. She breathes slowly, dizzy. The fire still cracks on the fireplace.

“You can ask me anything”, Sam murmurs after a while, and Mon feels her arms tightening around her body.

“What are you scared of?”, she asks in a whisper, and then pulls back to look at Sam right in her face. She looks surprised, taken aback. There are a million questions to ask, but Mon chose the one nagging her brain the most.

Sam blinks twice before sighing in defeat.

“I’m afraid of you trying to leave”, she answers. “Because- because I don’t know if I can allow it. I don’t know if I have the strength, Mon. It’s been so long, and to finally have you here… It’s everything”.

Her eyes burn into Mon, pleading. Her voice is smaller than ever, sweet and breathless. There is a slight, reddish smudge drying on the bottom of her lower lip. Mon thinks that she wants to see it all, to hear it all.

“Will you tell me all about it?”, she asks. Sam’s eyes water with the weight of a thousand memories.

Why should it matter? It was so long ago, her life before knowing Mon. It was full of despair, of disappointment, of anger. She waited, and waited, and waited. And Mon wasn’t there to live all of that with her. But she is here now, her doe-eyed angel, and she’s asking for something very simple, and Sam would give her anything, anything she could ever ask for. Almost anything.

“Yes”, she finds herself saying, and Mon smiles for the first time since she met her.

There is nothing else, Sam thinks then, nothing else but the curve of her lips, the light behind her eyes, the way soft indents appear in her forehead. That is her soulmate. Her soulmate that is finally wrapped around her arms, illuminating the place with her lovely aura. Sam pecks her lips, helpless, kisses her cheeks, her eyelids, the mark she left on her neck and Mon giggles and shivers, clearly overwhelmed.

“I’ll have to go out sometimes, too”, Mon reasons between kisses. Sam whines lowly against her jaw and Mon bites of an ironic snort. Deathly creature, people would say. “To the supermarket, and to study… maybe other things. I can’t just disappear, Sam”.

Sam frowns and Mon swoons. She’s so, so, pretty. She cannot wait to know everything about her. She grasps her delicate face with her hands.

“But you’ll live here”, Sam argues, “This is your home”.

Mon hums and kisses her deeply. She feels a renewed pulse between her legs. The wound in her neck stings deliciously, too, and Mon wonders whether she’ll get Sam to bite her again. It’s crazy, but damn it, she has never been a coward. The pull she feels towards her, the string tying them inevitably, the way her soul chants Sam’s name again and again. She found her, too. She feels at peace, ecstatic, full of a certainty that shakes every doubt away. Her indents press against Sam’s thigh and she finds them wet from when she had Mon grinding against her. It’s wonderful.

“Mon”, Sam insists then, “Tell me. I want you to say it”, she demands, “that you’ll live with me”.

“I’ll move in”, Mon answers carelessly. Of course she will. Sam wouldn’t have it any other way. She kisses her again and this time Sam corresponds more than happily, letting Mon suck on her tongue eagerly.

Mon mouths down her body, then, exploring, drinking in Sam’s lovely sounds. She sucks her breasts, licks down her sternum, bites on her thighs viciously. Sam’s skin fills her with a hunger that has her salivating. God, she wants do devour her. She wants Sam to pull on her hair, keep her tight against her core, command her, do with her whatever she pleases. When she finds herself marveling between Sam’s legs, she looks up to find a hazy gaze fixed on her mouth.

“It’s been a while”, Sam confesses, although with more longing than embarrassment. The words make Mon light up, feel invincible. She smirks sultrily, drawn by Sam’s smell.

“Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you never have to wait for it again”.

Sam has a fraction of a second to be impressed by the statement before diving into deep pleasure.

-

“Will you ever turn me?”, Mon asks softly.

The sun is caressing her features. They’ve been talking for hours, fucking between whispered words, sinking into the feeling of having each other. Throughout the night, Sam gave Mon a quick tour around the castle, fingered on the stairs, in the shower, on their bed. Mon is completely spent and Sam decided that she absolutely adores that expression on her face, corrupted and satisfied.

“I cannot lose you”, Sam answers merely, and Mon knows what it means.

She ponders for a second, gravitates around the thought.

“Now?”, she asks.

Sam breathes deeply.

“Whenever you are ready”.

Mon hums.

“When I graduate? We’ll be closer in age. I mean- well, you know what I mean”.

Sam smiles softly and Mon smiles back. It is such a lovely sight, Sam brightening up, a joyful curve breaking with her frosty expression. It makes her look younger, free of the weight of countless years. Such a beauty. Mon’s stomach curls in a rush of butterflies. Her hands run through Sam’s long hair with absolute delicacy. God, she’s lucky.

“Yes, my love”, Sam answers, and cuddles deeper into her. Mon yawns. “Anything you’d like. I just want you here”.

And Mon knows that she means. Here I my bed, here in my house, here in my life. Here in this eternal lifetimes, here in what is there to come. To heal, to grow, to live. It’s not much, what Sam asks from her, really. And Mon just likes the same, just as much.

“Let’s be here together, then”.

Mon falls asleep at home.

#monsam #sam x mon #gap the series #freenbecky #i'm not sorry

[ambystoman]

Spyroll (Redo) (Cometling)

Sorry for the lack of activity, been really caught up with stuff lately. It is the holidays after all. I plan to do the last main character before the year ends.

"Oh jeez, i-is this really necessary? Can I skip this introduction thing? I'm not sure people would care to kno-"

Here is this shooting star guy, Spyroll! He is-

"Aaa! you don't have to say it so loud!"

Ahem, he is shy, reserved but very inquisitive. He gets scared very easily, embarrasses himself often, probably wets the bed but if he gets pushed too far, he can-

"What?! No I don't do that. I am not a coward!"

Spyroll is a Cometling, strange beings made of energy. Despite this, he is cold to the touch. They can use their energy to help with their daily tasks or in Spyroll's case, as a weapon! He shoots blast projectiles of his own energy to attack enemies. This makes him great for ranged combat. Some of his special attacks include him blasting off his entire arm to use as a missile. Don't worry it grows back instantly.

Unfortunately, I never got around to programming any of the other 2 protagonists so I don't have anything to show regarding their combat abilities. He would've focused on projectile attacks and somewhat ranged combat. More so than the others.

Cometlings are notable for having a "core" in the center of their bodies. This artifact serves as their soul and is the source of their powers. In fact, it has the energy that keeps them alive for their entire lifespan, technically making them immortal beings that don't require sustenance. However, once this core runs out of energy, the individual fizzles out in a bang and dies for good. They are not invincible but can live for a long, long time.

Spyroll's core/soul

Cometlings are proficient with electrical mechanisms and anything related to them. This is due to the fabric of energy that encompasses their bodies. A quality that enabled them to communicate through energy charges. An instant language only they can understand. Without needing to convey expressions, their faces were rendered obsolete and time got rid of them eventually.

Cometlings. I should mention that I occasionally draw Spyroll with a face just for fun. Perhaps this is what his face would look like if Cometlings still had one.

Spyroll gets nervous quite easily. Despite this, he is rather optimistic and sees life in the best way possible trying to find hope in the direst of situations. Cometlings have a dust tail that is often treated as a sort of hair. Spyroll keeps his wavy and long.

Random works of him

Backstory

Spyroll lives in a futuristic society. Cometling innovations have progressed so much over time due to their semi-immortality that their cities have become monolithic mazes of houses, factories, and shipyards. This much progress has caused a mass disconnect among people though.

Spyroll is a solitary guy with little to no acquaintances. He enjoys repairing and creating contraptions in his spare time. Sharing his latest works through the Cometling equivalent of the internet. He is quite well known but nobody truly knows him or cares for his true self. This has made him a very isolated and introverted dude.

He only finds comfort in his hobby. One he is incredibly talented at.

With so much time to live but nobody to share it with, what even is his purpose?

If only someone took the time to check on him. Maybe things will change on one eventful day...

Inspiration

As his species' name suggests, Cometlings are anthropomorphic comets. His body is the Gas tail while his "hair" is the Dust tail. His head is the Nucleus.

Just like Cometlings, comets eventually fizzle out after thousands of years. It is a natural part of their existence.

As for his design, he was inspired by George Méliès' The Eclipse, in which his wife is seen playing a "Wandering Star". You can see the references pretty clearly lol. I designed Spyroll years ago and this design really stuck with me. He originally even had a dress too but changed it to shorts cause it would be easier to animate.

Very self-explanatory lol

I'll be honest, I treat him quite poorly for being a main character. I barely have art of him or his backstory that figured out. I do plan to make more for him eventually.

His very first design. Excuse the bad camera.

Huh...

Addendum

Once again, I completely forgot about his current design outfit lol. It was inspired by Mamoru from Mamorukun Curse. I thought he looked cool and I love the music from the game. Haven't played it though but I wanna.

Spyroll if he was anime

#3d modeling #blender #original character #digital art #art #original oc #gamedev #space #soul trail #ambystoman #lowpoly #comet #shooting star #george melies

[thecrews-shenanigans]

SKABEN 🔥🔥🔥

I luv him sm aaoaaiuf 😭

Might as well add Skaben’s character info here:

9 sweeps He/Him pronouns Thief of Space Prospit dreamer 5’10 Candy red blood [Mutant]

Voice claim: Ben Dexter from Crash Zoom [Thomas “Tomska” Ridgewell]

Your name is SKABEN RHITIS, and you are a FILMMAKER!...Well you’d like to believe you are. Your interests include ACTION MOVIES, HUMAN ARTIFACTS, GUNS, SKA MUSIC, and EVERYTHING WITH BLACK AND WHITE CHECKERS. You are a hyperactive, reckless, and eccentric little CANDY BLOOD that has always had a knack for the art of film, though never able to get your small company off the ground due to your impulsiveness, generally being quite oblivious to those around you, and wanting to make EVERYTHING into an action movie…You have been fired from multiple jobs in the span of a few days.

You hide your true blood colour on your most cherished item, your HUMAN CAMCORDER. You take that thing everywhere to film whatever you want! Because in your large eyes, everything is art…WHEN GUNS BLOOD AND EXPLOSIONS ARE INVOLVED!!!! But under this happy-go-lucky shell, is an angry, broken troll who’s been through so much all at once. You’re not what you seem, or who you want to be.

Your Trolltag is darkKeylock, and you $wap around the exclamation point with the number one and u$e old internet $lang when excited11 (chou cyooot1111)

#Skaben Rhitis #🎥 #homestuck #homestuck fantroll #homestuck troll #homestuck art #homestuck trolls #homestuck fan troll #fantrolls #fantroll #fan troll #artists on tumblr #Art #original character #homestuck sprite #homestuck sprite edit #pesterquest sprite edit #hs sprite #sprite edit #homestuck oc #oc art #oc #original characters #flipaclip art #flipaclip #original story #oc info #oc intro

[shaniacsboogara]

I made an AI write an episode of Puppet History about Shanesweep

The camera fades in on the set of Puppet History, where the Professor is sitting behind his desk, surrounded by various historical artifacts and documents. Ryan Bergara sits to his left, frowning as he reads over a stack of notes. A third chair is positioned to the right of the Professor's desk, and it is soon occupied by a smiling Steven Lim, who waves at the camera.

Professor: (beaming) Well hello there, students! Welcome to another exciting episode of Puppet History. Today, we're going to be discussing an event that's very near and dear to our hearts here at the Watcher network: Shanesweep!

Ryan: (rolling his eyes) Oh boy.

Professor: (noticing Ryan's attitude) Now now, Beef Boy, don't be a sourpuss. This is a very important historical event! After all, Shane Madej winning the Ultimate Tumblr Funnyman poll is nothing to sneeze at.

Steven: (grinning) I have to agree with the Professor on this one. I was rooting for Shane the whole time.

Ryan: (sarcastically) Well, that makes one of us.

Professor: (clearing his throat) Now, as you all know, the poll was a heated battle between Shane and the legendary Weird Al Yankovic. At first, it seemed like Weird Al had the upper hand. But then...

Ryan: (interrupting) Can we just skip to the part where Shane wins?

Professor: (chuckling) Alright, alright. I can tell you're just chomping at the bit to hear the results. So, after an intense few days of voting, Shane emerged victorious!

Steven: (clapping) Yes!

Ryan: (sighing) Great.

Professor: And it wasn't just any old victory, mind you. One of the Watcherinas even sent Shane a trophy in the mail to commemorate the occasion!

Ryan: (smirking) That's cute.

Professor: (leaning in) Oh, and let's not forget about the propaganda. The Watcherinas were so unhinged and insane, they really went all out with the campaigning.

Ryan: (raising an eyebrow) Propaganda?

Professor: (nodding) Oh yes. Memes, gifs, videos, you name it. They even got Watcher to reblog the poll on Tumblr with the caption, "We did it Joe!"

Steven: (laughing) That's amazing.

Ryan: (grumbling) I don't see what's so amazing about a bunch of internet trolls rigging a poll.

Professor: (smiling) Well, that's one way to look at it. But from another perspective, it just goes to show the power of community and how passionate people can be about something they believe in.

Ryan: (nodding) I guess you're right.

Professor: (clapping his hands) Well, speaking of believing in something, it's time for our quiz! Are you ready, gentlemen?

Steven and Ryan both nod, and the Professor grins widely.

Professor: Excellent! Alright, first question. What year did Shanesweep take place?

A multiple choice question appears on the screen:

A) 2018

B) 2020

C) 2023

D) 2050

Ryan and Steven both quickly scribble down their answers.

Professor: (smiling) Alright, let's see what you got. Ryan, what did you choose?

Ryan holds up his whiteboard, which says "C".

Professor: (barking) We've got a couple of sea dogs

Steven: (laughing) I also chose C.

Professor: (grinning) Well, you're both correct!

Professor: (holding up the coveted cup) Now, it's time to reveal who the winner of today's quiz is. And the winner is... Steven Lim!

Steven: (grinning and holding up the cup) Yes! Thank you, Professor!

Ryan: (looking incredulous) What? But I got the same answer as him!

Professor: (smiling) That's true, Beef Boy. But you see, Steven made a really funny joke earlier, so I decided to give him some extra jellybeans. It's all in good fun, right?

Ryan: (grumbling) I guess.

Steven: (laughing) Thanks again, Professor!

As Steven continues to thank the Professor, Ryan can't help but feel a bit resentful. He's been coming to Puppet History for months now, and he's never won the coveted cup. But before he can say anything, the Professor suddenly looks up, his eyes widening in shock.

Professor: (gasping) Wait a minute... Steven, I think I know what's going on here.

Steven: (looking concerned) What do you mean?

Professor: (leaning in) I think... I think you might be an alien.

Ryan: (looking surprised) What?!

Steven: (laughing nervously) What are you talking about, Professor? I'm not an alien!

Professor: (shaking his head) Oh, but I think you are. You see, there have been some strange things happening around here lately. Mysterious lights in the sky, unexplained power outages... I think you might be here to study us.

Ryan: (looking skeptical) This is ridiculous.

Steven: (laughing) Come on, Professor. You're just joking around, right?

Professor: (shaking his head) I'm afraid not, Steven. I think it's time for a little test.

The Professor reaches into his desk and pulls out a jar of peanut butter. He holds it up to Steven, who looks confused.

Professor: (smiling) Do you like peanut butter, Steven?

Steven: (nodding slowly) Um, yeah. I guess.

Professor: (grinning) Well then, let's see what happens when I give you a little taste.

The Professor dips his finger into the peanut butter and holds it out to Steven, who hesitantly takes a lick. Suddenly, his eyes widen and he starts convulsing.

Steven: (shouting) I am an alien! I am an alien!

Ryan: (looking shocked) What the hell is going on here?!

Professor: (calmly) It's alright, Ryan. I knew this day might come. You see, Steven is from a planet that's allergic to peanuts. It's how we were able to finally confirm his identity.

Steven continues to writhe and convulse on the floor as the Professor calmly explains the situation to Ryan. Eventually, Steven recovers and stands up, looking sheepish.

Steven: (rubbing his head) I'm sorry about all of that, guys. I guess I really am an alien.

Professor: (patting Steven on the back) It's alright, Steven. We're just glad we could finally figure it out. And who knows? Maybe now that we know you're an alien, we can learn even more about the universe!

Ryan: (still looking bewildered) I can't believe this is happening.

Professor: (smiling) Well, that's the beauty of Puppet History, Beef Boy. You never know what you're going to learn or who you're going to meet. And speaking of learning, I think we've got time for one more question before we wrap up.

Ryan: (nodding) Alright, let's do it.

Professor: (grinning) Alright, here we go. What historic event happened on March 10th, 2023?

Ryan: (thinking) Um... I don't know.

Steven: (smiling) I actually know this one! It was the day that Shane Madej won the Ultimate Tumblr Funnyman poll!

Professor: (smiling) That's right, Steven! And what's even better is that one of our amazing Watcherinas sent Shane a trophy in the mail to celebrate his victory.

Ryan: (looking a bit annoyed) How did you even know that, Steven?

Steven: (shrugging) I just spend a lot of time on Tumblr, I guess.

Professor: (laughing) Well, there you have it, folks. Another successful episode of Puppet History in the books. Join us next time for even more historical hijinks!

#the peanut butter twist got me #puppet history #shanesweep #shane sweep #shane madej #watcher #ryan begara #all hail the watcher #steven lim #the professor #shane and ryan #watcher entertainment #professor mcnasty #ghost files

[plaguery]

here is my promised dmc oc, romy sears. she is like if a torture device was friend shaped.

these two pics are about a year old now and certainly far from favorites but they show off those tattoo details that the first missed!

she is a post-dmc5 character, remotely working as an advisor of sorts for devil may cry through morrison's adept scouting and by way of her demonological expertise, intel on possible jobs and if she's feeling generous, her casting abilities.

at the time of joining the devil may cry ensemble, she is a thirty-one year old with about two decades of intensive autistic special interest studying and training behind her. a witness to a horrific devil attack at age eleven, she was somehow inspired and propelled into demonology and magical pursuits. her constant, reckless infodumping to helpless shop patrons and workers at her regular haunts made her a name in town to anyone who wanted to work with or against devils, leading up to morrison cracking down on her and setting up a devil may cry exclusive romy deal.

her cover and home base (tag 'home' as literal) is the antiques shop she owns and operates at the very edge of town on the mostly abandoned, eerie but alluring, bramford street. mixed in with your average porcelain antiques are demonic artifacts and 'possessed' items—particularly, dolls. these devils that she has personally conjured and bound are considered friends, while she considers herself a 'caretaker'.

despite her fondness for the demonic, she teams up with devil may cry out of financial need and for the mental challenge that she figures it will present. you can guess that her morals are... pliant.

she is a cheery, talkative, and strangely elegant thing, but do not mistake that for extroversion. more a lively hermit, most of her hours are spent at her shop and she can only be pulled away for the sake of necessity or for furthering her aims of gaining knowledge/'friends'. social skills seem to be something that comes and goes for her: politeness quickly becoming intrusion into personal boundaries, chatter somehow turning every stranger in the vicinity away, picking up on heavily layered context while missing basic cues.

as she'll tell you, pride is her favorite of the cardinal sins, and you'll find her pride in her knowledge, fashion, hair, and accessories. the tuft of white in her victory roll is her favorite badge of honor, as it has grown over the years from exposure to the demonic. most notable though are her golden, clawed fingers: custom prosthetics that she acquired after losing her fingers in a conjuring gone wrong.

if the antiques shop didn't tell you, she loves vintage and is most often seen in 40s or 50s inspired styles. the true mark of devotion is the trans-atlantic accent that she taught herself as a teenager and uses to this day (no, she will not admit to it being taught despite it inherently being a completely fabricated accent).

fun facts:

if she gets close enough to someone she will reveal that 'romy sears' is in fact not really her name and that she started using it after getting disowned at eighteen for accidentally setting her family trailer on fire with her first successful conjure & bind. she will not divulge her true last name but her given name is rosemary. 'romy sear(s)' is just the anagram treatment.

'rosemary', making it an anagram, and the name 'bramford' for the street are references to rosemary's baby. she has never and never will give birth and shes more akin to the creepy neighbors but i love references and she loves taking care of devils!

when she does leave the house, she is rarely seen without a multiseat stroller, seating a select few dolls for that day. as a caretaker, she figures it's important for enrichment purposes to get them out of the shop regularly.

the whole doll schtick is actually the whole inspiration for her character. i started simply with the idea of combining one of my favorite internet browsing activities (looking at haunted/possessed doll listings) with post-dmc5 fuckery.

objects moving and strange noises are part and parcel for the shop. however, there is also a bit of a time vortex due to the massive concentration of the demonic in one spot. it makes the veil between realms thinner but not by too much. it's helped by romy's many wards and charms around and throughout the shop but time still moves differently and is always off by around 5-25 minutes depending on circumstance.

if you read this far, thank you :) i really love her in all her freakishness. im (slowly) trying to work on a written intro* (i guess.. fic) with her. despite all i already wrote there is much more i already have in my mind. questions are welcomed if you happen to have them!

*here's a sneak peek of that ;)

#devil may cry #dmc #devil may cry oc #dmc oc #dmc ocs #original character #romy my beloved #me and a couple friends had just wanted post-dmc5 content so bad that we made ocs about a year ago. so here this is #our ethos was that basically all dmc characters are absolute freaks except for basically lady and kyrie #so we had to rise to the occasion. and rise methinks i did #the post5 au type thing she exists in is basically if you just made dmc a sitcom #romy sears #plaguery art

[princeescaluswords]

At this point, you should just compile everything you know about Teen Wolf (especially if my bby boy Scott is in the spotlight) into one BIG FILE OF GOOGLE DRIVE FOLDER and give them a link since they keep repeating the same thing over and over and over again.

And hey, I don't mind helping you compiling the stuff like same repeating/similar sounding asks, your old responses, transcripts and screenshot of proofs if you eventually do it. I feel bad for you and other Scott Defenders since I've followed you for a loooooong time and facepalming at the TW asks every now and then

Thank you for your compliments and your very kind offer, but I have actually been playing around with putting all the writing about Teen Wolf to a different use. I am in the "can I do this? should I do this?" phase, but I'm thinking of writing something off Tumblr for publication, using the work I've done here as a basis.

The book -- if it is a book and not an article or some other format and if it ever gets written -- will have three premises, which may or may not be sustained by the evidence I can gather.

Teen Wolf, its reception, and its fandom is an artifact of modern white culture (and not in a positive way). Foucauldian power dynamics and United-States-inspired consumerism have combined to empower and provide cover for a racist audience response that was hostile to a narrative focusing on a character of color over the course of the series and the movie.

The show's treatment is an example of how fandom culture has been enabled by Internet sites such as Tumblr, Twitter, AO3, and YouTube to somehow disguise their aggressive pursuit of decadent bourgeois values as revolutionary freedom from those same exact values. "Transformational fandom" has become all about making things palatable for a mainstream white culture that likes to flirt with the forbidden.

For the production, the fandom's hostility and its aggressive behavior turned out not to be a bug, but a feature. In other words, certain choices in casting and plot may have been not just simple fan service, but fan service designed to provoke fandom racism in a way that would maintain interest in the production. After all, any sort of attention is better than none.

Of course, this whole idea of mine is in its earliest stages of writing. The thing about non-fiction writing is sometimes a great hypothesis turns out to be wrong. It will require research and a publisher. But that's where I'm at right now.

As an aside, it was inspired by three things. First, was the incredible hostility to the movie by the fandom before the movie even premiered. The intensity of that hatred for a follow-up movie for a television show which hadn't been on for five years is unique and worth exploring. Second, there was a quote from Tyler Posey about how, when they first started filming Teen Wolf, Jeff Davis told him how his ethnicity would help the production. The quote didn't contain any further elaboration, but, obviously, from the result, Davis wasn't counting on what rightists would call "woke points." Finally, there was a direct quote from Jeff Davis about how the writer's room had determined Mason Hewitt was "too good" to suffer consequences of being host for the Beast. I've always hated that statement for its obvious intersection with racism and ableism.

It does occur to me that perhaps this wasn't just a confluence of random events that created this specific fandom phenomenon. Perhaps Jeff Davis and the production staff noted this aspect of fandom culture and had a strategy for integrating it into the show. I would never say that they meant for the hostile interpretation of characters of color to be taken as true -- it's obviously not -- but I might want to explore if they didn't promote the hostility in a way designed to enhanced the show's reception.

Again, I'm at the very beginning of the process. Your question pushed me farther down the road.

#teen wolf meta #teen wolf fandom racism #fandom racism

[silverslipstream]

All the original short stories/fiction I've written for university, catalogued in chronological order

Happy New Year! In honour of 2024 and in an effort to organise my writing better, I've catalogued every piece of original fiction I've written since starting university in September 2022, along with short summaries for each.

'An Acquired Taste' - A woman braves the streets of cyberpunk-esque 22nd century New Seoul and tries what a street vendor claims is 'real fruit' for the first time.

'The Pool' - A boy recounts the day he was taught to swim by his abusive and controlling father.

'Executive Decisions' - Three US Air Force pilots face a moral dilemma in the midst of a nuclear war between the US and Soviet Union.

'Abernathy's Roost' - A cynical property developer visits a haunted manor in the English countryside, only to discover that some legends do hold truth after all...

'Forces That Bind Us' - A high-school boy and his best friend can't figure out why their mutual crush has such a charismatic and compelling effect on everyone she meets.

'The Pyrius' - On his way to the Moon, a businessman looks back at the Earth and reflects on the circumstances that led him there.

'Huia' - Two filmmakers re-discover a supposedly-extinct bird, and become embroiled in a far-reaching environmental conspiracy.

'Delay Repay' - During a train journey in southern England, a young man meets an old man and realises the ripple effect one person's loss can have on the wider world.

'Past Expiry Date' - In an alternate world where machines are able to determine the date of a human being's death, a young woman wakes up the day after she was fated to die. (Officially published!)

'Neptunian Ink' - On Neptune's largest moon Triton, an exhausted astronaut drags his seriously wounded partner to a rendezvous point, and converses with a strange entity in the atmosphere of Neptune itself.

'Arrhythmic' - When she's visited in hospital after a car accident, a heart-rate monitor threatens to reveal the nature of a girl's true feelings towards her long-time best friend.

'Dickhead' - A wannabe teenage gangster in late-2000s Ireland beats the shit out of his 'mark', loathing yet relishing his violent tendencies.

'Shale' - On a deserted beach, a young woman sees visions of a future, or perhaps the past, and is tormented by the endless sea.

'Night Work' - A young man and his grizzled mentor visit a sacred burial ground haunted by a monster that's not quite as mythological as the legends would have you believe.

'Flashforward' - After waking up from an eerily vivid dream, an otherwise ordinary woman begins to notice events from her dreams coming true, and is approached by agents of a shadowy organisation who claim she can see the future.

'One Man's Trash' - At a local garage sale, an antiques collector is enamoured by a strange, unnerving artifact with a dark past.

'The Night Without Darkness' - A headless body is discovered by researchers on an Antarctic base camp after an unexplained loss of contact with the rest of the world.

'Exotic Game' - In a world with casual time-travel, an Internet forum is besieged by a time-traveling troll who brazenly interferes with the assassination of JFK, much to the chagrin of a 'timestream moderator.'

'Emergency Alert System' - An unexplained event involving the Moon plunges a small, rural family's night into chaos and horror.

'Millennium's Eve' - A lonely man in 1997 inadvertently travels forward in time to New Year's Eve 1999, and falls in love with a mysterious and alluring stranger.

'Saturn, The Harbinger' - Romance and banter fly between teenagers having a barbecue, until unexplained astronomical phenomena change the world forever.

'Struck Out' - In the ruins of post-apocalyptic America, a young girl born after the collapse of civilization asks an older man what the world used to be like.

'GritInMyEye' - MI6's worst-ranked agent, Rupert Courtroad, bungles an attempted assassination and encounters a side of his sworn nemesis that he'd rather not see...

'The Brink' - A suicidal man ruminates on depression, his memories and bad deli sandwiches while sitting atop the edge of a twenty-story building.

'Nocturne' - In a funeral parlour, an old man bids goodbye to his wife while reflecting on the life they shared, and his future in a world without her.

'Invisible Touch' - A house is haunted by a mischievous teenage ghost with a troubled death, a love of 1980s pop culture and a wicked streak of dark humour.

'Car Trouble' - A Formula One driver and a beautiful socialite are marooned by a mechanical fault, and said driver relishes the ability to show off his racing skills to some lucky hitchhikers.

'Squid Game' - With 31st-century humanity establishing an oppressive interstellar empire, a small-time criminal-for-hire listens to the plan of a man's uploaded mind - to populate a distant galaxy with his own genetically-modified squid.

'Trees All The Way Down' - Two aliens studying the Earth remark on how well they seeded the planet with life, only for one to reveal the truth about the dominant species on our world, and theirs...

'Name Tag' - a girl participates in her new high school's strange tradition, and discovers some uncomfortable truths about her own sexuality and attraction in the process.

'Mr. Slumps' - After an unexplained catastrophe, a young boy abandoned by his family begins to talk to the only vaguely human thing left: a dead man in the concrete pipe he's hiding in. To his surprise, the dead man responds.

'The Third-And-A-Halfth Floor' - A self-important business executive becomes trapped in a lift, and soon resorts to extreme measures to survive when he realises nobody's coming to save him.

'Two Plates' - In the aftermath of an agricultural disaster, a lone wanderer explores an abandoned home.

'Inevitability, Patience and Goodbyes' - In an alternate universe where the world's destruction is predicted for exactly 8:14pm on October 23rd, 1998, two best friends ruminate on the imminent apocalypse.

'Diana and Orion' - Sequel to 'Inevitability, Patience and Goodbyes': the protagonist of that story meets his longtime crush on a remote hilltop to await the end of the world.

'Self-Assembly' - A gay couple who have just bought their first home together share a romantic moment while assembling their new IKEA furniture.

'Ignition Sequence' - A watcher's perspective of a Space Shuttle launch, written from a second-person POV.

'Oculus' - A teenage girl undergoes experimental and illegal surgery to install a robotic eye implant, only to discover the dark side of the burgeoning 'transhumanist' movement. Set in the same universe as 'Freeqing Out'

'Witness Statement' - Following a school shooting, the perpetrator calmly recounts the event, his motivations and his disgust for the court that's trying him.

'Four Fingers And A Thumb' - A casual winter's day on the ice turns deadly when a young girl falls into the frozen lake, and a young boy is unable to save her. Takes place in the same shared universe as 'Inevitability, Patience and Goodbyes' and 'Diana and Orion'.

'Well, That's Not Very Diplomatic' - Upon receiving news that a race of neurotic and obsessive aliens is going to destroy the planet Earth, the human race dispatches a negotiator to unravel the aliens' true plans...

'No Swimming Without A Lifeguard Present' - As a cosmic event tugs Earth out of its orbit around the Sun, Miami Beach begins to look more and more unrecognizable as global cooling sets in.

'The Glassman' - At a rural train station, a mysterious international contract killer masterminds an unconventional and highly successful assassination.

'Lorentz Factor 206' - When an inventor's lightspeed drive accidentally launches him into deep space, he returns to Earth only to find that five and a half years have passed on Earth in the nine days he experienced.

'New Year's Kiss' - During a house party on New Year's Eve 2015, two male best friends share an unexpected drunken kiss.

'Seeing Things' - A man in a small Cotswolds village is tortured by the apparition of hanged townspeople that no one else can see.

'The Quieter Side of Te Mamaku Bay' - In 1990s New Zealand, an absent-minded young man and his closeted gay lover share a tender moment alone while camping at the beach.

'Freeqing Out' - In a dystopian future London, a brain-modification addict meets his new dealer and experiences a trip on a new kind of psychedelic drug.

'Treading On Eggshells' - prequel to 'No Swimming Without A Lifeguard Present'. A global alliance of governments races to construct an interstellar 'ark' in Earth orbit to escape the planet, while simultaneously trying to keep it secret from the increasingly frantic public.

'Operation Trident' - During a futuristic war between humans and alien invaders, a soldier is airdropped into alien-controlled Europe and soon discovers that the invaders aren't what they seem...

'Something To Lose' - sequel to 'Car Trouble'. With the Formula One World Championship on the line, a traumatised driver must choose between what's more important: glory, or his life.

'On The Sidelines' - prequel to 'The Quieter Side of Te Mamaku Bay'. A young, closeted bisexual man admires his crush while watching a Saturday morning game of football, only to draw unwanted attention.

'The Hand Of Poseidon' - A defeated man waits on a hilltop after an asteroid impact, awaiting the tsunami approaching his coastal city.

'The Long Dark' - sequel to 'No Swimming Without A Lifeguard Present'. With the planet Earth now helplessly spiraling into the outer Solar System, humanity's last radio DJ sends a final broadcast to a uncertain audience.

'After Midnight' - In a dying, post-nuclear-war world, a mother and her son travel to one of the last elements of local civilization still functioning - their local church. Loose sequel to 'Executive Decisions'.

'Honesty Is The Best Policy' - In a world where magic exists, a young witch accidentally drinks her roommate's truth potion, and soon her inner emotions and feelings come to light...

'Cheesy Beans' - A man struggling on the poverty line during Britain's cost-of-living crisis remembers a moment of kindness from a stranger in the supermarket.

'If It Happened Once...' - A boy with a time-traveling medallion tries to reset time in order to make his crush fall in love with him, but every time he goes back, the medallion's power has unexpected side effects on his body...

#my writing #writeblr #writers community #wow I didn't realise I'd written this much #that's 58 stories

[cinema-hallucinations]

Prompt: generate a movie concept where at some point Anubis is forced to wear a dog cone.

Title: Dog Days

Tagline: He's barking up the wrong Underworld

Logline: A rebellious teenager accidentally summons Anubis, the Egyptian god of the dead, who gets trapped in the mortal world with a dog cone stuck around his head. Now, a mismatched team of a disgruntled deity, a tech-savvy teen, and a stray dog must solve a series of hilarious (and mildly deadly) puzzles to send Anubis back home.

Characters:

Anubis: A stoic and dignified god who takes his duties very seriously. Trapped in a dog's body with a humiliating cone, his powers are diminished and his frustration is amplified.

Max Oliver: A rebellious teenager with a fascination with the occult. He accidentally summons Anubis while trying to impress his classmates.

Cerberus: A stray dog with a mischievous streak. He recognizes Anubis despite the cone and forms an unlikely alliance with Max to help the god return home.

Bastet: The sassy goddess of cats (and Anubis' rival). She pops in occasionally, offering snarky advice and taking great pleasure in Anubis' predicament. (Cameo role)

Plot:

Max Oliver, a bored teenager desperate for attention, attempts a ritual from a dubious internet forum to impress his classmates. Instead of summoning a demon, he accidentally pulls Anubis, the Egyptian god of the dead, into the mortal world. Unfortunately, the ritual malfunctions, trapping Anubis in a golden retriever's body complete with an embarrassing plastic cone around his head.

Anubis, stripped of his powers and unable to return to the underworld, is forced to rely on Max's technological skills and Cerberus' knowledge of the city to navigate the human world. They must decipher a series of ancient riddles left behind by Bastet, who seems to be enjoying Anubis' misfortune a little too much.

Their quest leads them through hidden Egyptian artifacts in museums, forgotten catacombs beneath the city, and even a hilarious encounter with a dog park filled with suspicious-looking canines (some might be mythological creatures in disguise).

Along the way, Max learns about the importance of responsibility and respecting the power of the unknown. Anubis, forced to confront his own limitations and see the world through a dog's perspective, gains a newfound appreciation for life and the simple joys of belly rubs.

The climax involves solving a final puzzle that opens a portal back to the underworld. Max and Cerberus manage to send Anubis home, but not before he removes the cone with a dramatic flourish. Back in his own realm, Anubis, sporting a grudging respect for his unlikely companions, sends Max a small token of gratitude. (Maybe a magical dog treat that grants good grades?)

Humor:

The sight of a dignified god like Anubis trapped in a dog's body with a cone.

The clash between Anubis' serious personality and the chaotic world of teenagers and stray dogs.

Bastet's snide remarks and playful interventions.

Visual gags based on Anubis' struggle to navigate the world with limited sight and mobility.

Themes:

The importance of taking responsibility for your actions.

Finding friendship in unexpected places.

Looking beyond appearances to see the true nature of things.

#ai generated #stupid ideas #shitpost #imaginary movie #google gemini #movie poster #poster #genre: comedy #genre: children's #anubis #dog #genre: animal/furry #mythology #egyptian mythology #genre: magical realism #gods #magical powers #transformation #astral

[mangosimoothie]

The Bachelorette: Episode 24 - After the Final Rose

Thank you all for following along with The Bachelorette - it was a wild time, and we live for the fans! For our final episode, we check in with the cast one year after the final rose. What's everyone up to? Hopefully living their best lives 

[soundtrack]

Aja and Zeke had a beautiful wedding a few months after their engagement. They decided to keep the guest list small since they were a little burnt out after having been on camera 24/7 for the first two months of their relationship.

Mostly Aja just wanted a formal photo op - I mean, look at her.

The main event of the wedding was definitely the "reception" (more like RAGER) they had afterwards at Blue's Cradle! Zeke and Aja chose not to live at the commune, but they still live pretty close by and come to visit every so often. And Aja always gets her cards read by her lovely new mother in law.

After Aja’s last reading, Corinne just smiled and said, “Y’all gotta big yard in de new place, yeah? Good.” 

We got to stop by the Queen-Byrd household at their adorable and eclectic home in ATL to see how things were going. Aja and Zeke both say they've never been happier and more fulfilled. There's a lot going on! Black Beauty Babies is going stronger than ever, and combining with Blue's Cradle's resources has made both organizations able to help an incredible amount of people. They've also been continuing their "tomb raiding" adventures - helping indigenous communities with hidden and precious artifacts secure them before tourists/"explorers" can. They're getting a lot better at avoiding tomb traps. It seems like things are going great for our former bachelorette and her man. Let's see how it's going for everyone else

We weren't able to touch base with "Alanzo." In fact, nobody's been able to touch base with him for the last year. We've been told to ask you to contact the authorities if you see him.

After the show, Darion's girlfriend -- who he hadn't TECHNICALLY broken up with before going on The Bachelorette -- was so upset that she leaked his nudes and racy videos in an attempt to embarrass and out him. That backfired. The internet LOVED Darion. Things picked up for him pretty quick, first on social media then on the covers of magazines. Recently he launched Wolf Packer, which is being lauded as the Fendi of transmen's underwear. Looks like disrespecting women really paid off for him! Funny how that worked out.

Things didn't work out quite as well for "superstar" Bastien. After he was eliminated and Aja called him a "BAStard" #BastardBastien immediately started trending and stayed trending for 2 weeks, which is like a year in internet time. Because of all the bad press, Bastien's label dropped him. So now both Bastien and his tour are #CANCELLED

Ryan and Atticus are still together and deeply in love. Atticus decided to go against the wishes of his coven and turn Ryan to cure him of his cancer and ensure that they could spend their eternal lives together.

X'irron is doing more than fine! He took Aja's advice and continued his intergalactic travels. He hasn't quite gotten to the "finding himself" part of the journey, but he's definitely learning a lot ~getting to know~ all kinds of veeery interesting lifeforms.

And that's it! Thank you again for watching- oh wait, sorry. How could we forget sweet baby Cooper! Well...

Cooper's search for true love isn't over! Second time's the charm...That's how that phrase goes, right? (thank you to @maldeebee​ @holocene-sims​ and @utamuse​ for these beautiful girlies!!)

THE END 🌹  | PREVIOUS | BEGINNING 

Thank you again so much to everyone who’s been reading this story! I especially appreciate y’all that always comment and reblog and inbox me about it - that seriously means the world 🥺 so instead of leaving a like, leave a comment so we can talk about this crazy show now that it’s over 😔

#sims 4 bachelor challenge #sims 4 bachelorette challenge #ts4bachelorette #ep24 #zeke #queen-byrd household #alanzo #darion #bastien #katowin household #X'irron #Cooper #ts4bachelor #oc:ryan #*aja #*atticus