Tumgik
#untold magazine
corpsexpixie · 1 year
Text
• devastation and mutilation •
Tumblr media
16 notes · View notes
salsa-di-pomodoro · 4 months
Text
Has anyone ever thought of the possibility of people in hisui getting a magazine from AFTER ingo and akari go home with either or both of them on it. Like they've already left and lo and behold in the tail end of the entire mess a magazine appears with one of them on the cover looking fresh stunning and most importantly happy. If it were Ingo i feel like he'd be all dressed up goth on the cover of like Vogue or something lmao (i don't think he wouldn't get famous if he wasn't already after coming home. Theyd want the publicity+cool extint Pokémon on the cover). If it were akari shed probably be like posing all badass like the badass teenager she is, scars in full view (she's a survivor!!!!!!). Inside is a little tidibit of their life after coming home. It would be both funny as hell to see them react to how they are in their element and like connect the dots for their strange behaviors AND bring closure to the people they left in hisui. They may never know this but the people in the past do
If anyone uses this idea tag me i may or may not read it but i want to know if you liked it enough to do something with it. I'll probably just keep daydreaming to myself about it lol
Edit: btw there's a whole section talking about everyone's battle prowess and the battle subway for the funnies. Just so you know
142 notes · View notes
mylovelyhyunjin · 1 year
Text
Stray Kids Nylon Japan March 2023 interview translations (JP→EN)
Hyunjin
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
[©eskayzeejp]
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
12 notes · View notes
electrojazzmin · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
2 notes · View notes
lowiqzone · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
ESQUIRE Korea SPECIAL EDITION : To My Star Son Woo Hyun X Kim Kang Min PHOTOBOOK scan
ESQUIRE 에스콰이어 스페셜에디션 :「나의 별에게」 손우현 X 김강민 화보집 합본 D형
scan by attcboy / lowiqzone / krystais_ on twitter
10 notes · View notes
rococo-poco · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
UNTOLD TRADES and a poem about today's episode
0 notes
gabstamatic · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Magazines I grew up with. They all heavily influenced my love for music, Black culture and wanting to be a designer.
0 notes
Text
Watch "[New] People Magazine Investigates 2022 🌹🌹🌹🌹 The Untold Truth ~ Full Episodes { November 11 2022 }" on YouTube
youtube
0 notes
spiritedsleuth · 2 years
Text
OOC. general taglist
0 notes
artificialgirl · 2 months
Text
there's something about an instrument of war choosing love and softness. a girl that could instantly kill or maim on a reflex, but who chooses to suppress those instincts in favor for caring for someone she loves. a person whose frame hides untold weaponry, tucked away out of sight to protect what's important to her- over time unloading her magazines, dulling her blades, disassembling the cruel, obsolete parts of her body to make her form reflect the softness she's learned to exhibit.
106 notes · View notes
multifan2022 · 9 months
Text
Golden Lies
Heres another new one that has been in my wips for who knows how long.. Let me know!!
Tumblr media
“I volunteer!” 
The first thought through your head after hearing that is ‘who said that?’ Who would volunteer for the 69th Hunger Games.. Well the games at all, but why now? 
It isn't until people start turning around and looking at you, the 17 year old who almost escaped being reaped, that you realize whose voice you heard. You heard your own, because as soon as you saw little Cissa being pulled onto stage your heart broke. 
Cissa was your neighbor, she had just turned 12 the day before the reaping. You would be turning 18 in a week and a half. The poor girl cried for twenty minutes when she got a papercut opening seeds, she wouldn't last in the games. 
Not that you had a much better chance when it came down to it. The biggest difference was the only family you had was two grandparents, both very old and one sick. Cissa was the middle child of 5, her older twin brothers and her younger twin sisters. It would devastate them all if something happened to her, your grandparents wouldn't live long to mourn you. 
The peacekeepers hands on you barely caught your attention as they forced you to switch places. The only good part you could see out of this, was that Cissa wouldn't be rereaped. You had saved at least one of their kids, a small payment for all the times they watched your grandparents during the harvest for the last 8 years. 
Cress Amberpath, the light pink skinned Escort of your district, is practically vibrating with happiness when you reach the stage. There had never been a volunteer from your district while he worked here. He pulled you into a weird hug congratulating you before pulling you towards the mic. “Is there anything you would like to say to little Cissa, Dearie?” 
You nodded, pulled yourself together and looked at her family. Her mother was already in tears, you being like a niece to her, while she clung to her daughter. The older twin boys who were your age nodded, letting you know they would take care of her. While their father nodded, letting you know he would take care of your grandparents. It all happened within seconds, and suddenly you were ok. 
Everything was going to be ok. So you laughed and nodded again “Hey Cissy, take care of Finnick for me ya?” Cissa turned back to you, tears streaming down her face as she nodded and cracked a smile at the inside joke. When her family started laughing along with you, Cress spoke again “Whos Finnick my dear! Do you have a beau we should all know about!” 
You knew this next part would maybe piss some people off, but you were off to die so who cares. You shook your head “It's my dog.. Because there was a magazine we found the same day I found this puppy, and on the cover it said ‘Is golden boy Finnick Odair, a dog?’ Cissy thought it was a sign that we should name him Finnick.” 
To your utter surprise, Cress laughed.. Hard, like bent over laughing a genuine laugh before speaking “I wish we could see that man's face when he hears this, it would be priceless! But onto the boys!” When he left you in your spot and walked towards the other bowl, you scanned the crowd for the one friend you had. 
Hardin Bellbrand. 
A boy you went to school with, who worked the same field as you. He was your only confidant, the only person you trusted fully in this world. He was there when your parents died, you were there when he was diagnosed with an untold disease a few years ago. Hardin had been pulled from the fields, and was treated. Perk of being the Mayor's son, you guess. Now he could be out and about as long as he took his pill everyday. 
If he missed his pills within a few days he would start to have severe pain. Next would come the sweats and puking alongside hallucinations. He wasn't fit to be in the games ethier, and thankfully he is a year older than you so this is his last year. 
You finally made eye contact with him, and could see the heartbreak and sadness in them. Your ears start to buzz when he nods and looks away. You're frantically shaking your head as you hear Cress call some name you don't know. Your feet are moving before you realize it, mouth open screaming “NO” as you realize what Hardin is thinking. 
 Over your painfully screams to your sick friend, his voice rings clear “I volunteer as tribute!” The Mayor and his wife start screaming now as well, neither wanting to lose their only child. Both knowing even if he was fit and healthy, he's not a killer. While they are getting drug off stage by peacekeepers, Hardin is making his way to the stage. 
He completely bypasses Cress who is practically dying in excitement and walks straight to you. While you're shaking your head, he smiles sadly and wraps you in a hug whispering over and over that it's ok. Even though it's anything but. Cress pulls him off you and towards the microphone. “Well!! What a turn of events!! Not ONE but TWO volunteers!! Why did you volunteer young man??” 
Hardin turns his head and looks at you, that same sad smile present. “Couldn't let my best friend go off to fight without me.. She was gonna leave me in the fields to do all her work, can you believe that Cress?” He jokes and you know that he's going to make it through the process just fine. The struggle will be when the two of you are trying to survive in the arena. 
But you're dedicated to keeping him alive.. Even if it means killing yourself in the end. 
Hardin Bellbrand will be coming home. 
~~~~~~~
The train ride was excruciating, listening to Cress gush about how your ratings were already up due to there being volunteers in an outlying district. But since there were two of you, and you were best friends, he swore that it would be an easy win. There hadn't been a victor from District 9 in 25 years and he was dead. 
You and Hardin would be alone going into training, Cress would be your only guide during the next few weeks. You're both thankful for the fact the train rolls at 250 miles an hour, making your trip only a handful of hours. But your head was still pounding when you arrived. 
Cameras flashed and people screamed questions at you both as you were practically shoved from the train and into a car. Just to have it all happen again between the car and the tribute center. The only difference was this time you saw people holding out flowers. Cress stopped and gasped, turning back to you both, “We have never had gifts given to us before the games! This is such an honor, graciously accept them and show your love for the capitol!” 
You turned and nudge your head to one side, Hardin nodded and without speaking each of you took a side of the walkway. Men, women and children all screaming your name and touching your face or hair. Some had flowers that you would take and offer a smile and kind words back. You shake every hand you can reach, and even stop taking a few pictures. 
Somehow you even look happy, excited even to be here, which only drives the crowd crazier. When you and Hardin meet back up by the doors, you each have a handful of flowers and messy hair. Your hands find each other, fingers intertwining as you bow and smile to the crowd who just screams louder. 
Another car pulls up so the peacekeepers finish escorting you inside the huge building. Hardin looks around in amazement at the architecture and the size but all you can see is the bodies in the corner. A group of people who you assume are here to size up the competition and try to intimidate them. 
Cashmere, Gloss, Brutus, Enobaria, Finnick and Augustus along with their tributes are all sitting there glaring at you. Well all of them besides Finnick, who is the same age as Augustus who is the same age as you and Hardin. Just a bunch of 17 and 18 year olds that deserve to be anyone but here. Finnick was smiling at you, looking you up and down before leaning over and making a comment to Augustus who then smirks. 
The look on their faces makes your skin crawl, but you dont show it. Your upper lip pulling into a sneer as you fake gag in their direction causing Hardin to laugh as you keep walking towards the elevator. Thankfully disappearing from the Careers sight. 
~~~~
Finnick was tired.. 
Tired of being in the Capitol. Tired of kissing asses, tired of sleeping around, and tired of pretending like he hated every other tribute who walked through the door. But mostly he was just tired, he really needed a nap and a good shower. He was practically sleeping with his eyes open not listening to the others when he heard the crowd outside start screaming. 
He looked around quickly, thinking maybe one of the other careers had made their way outside. But no, the whole group was still there. As they all turned towards the door and waited, Finnick was stuck between relief and jealousy. Relief that maybe the people of the Capitol had found a new favorite and would leave him alone, and jealousy that the crowd was honestly being louder for whoever was outside than they were for him. 
The jealousy washed away though when the doors opened and a beautiful girl walked in with her escort and who Finnick assumed was her district partner. Arms full of flowers, hair ruffled from fingers running through it and cheeks pink from embarrassment. 
He knew right away by the lack of a Victor and the pink man escorting them that they were the tributes from District 9. While the guy looked around clearly amazed with the building, which to be honest happened to most of the tributes, the girl looked unimpressed. She rolled her eyes at her district mate, shouldered him a little before turning and noticing the group. 
Which also seemed to be unimpressive to her. 
While she looked them over, Finnick looked her over. She was tall for a girl, probably 5’7 or 5’8. Her hair was clean and down to the middle of her back, she was thin but not thin like most who came from her district. Definitely not thin like those from 12. More like the type of thin people get when they work the fields, which is probably what she did coming from 9. 
They both looked in shape while the girl looked a little healthier and a little stronger, Finnick knew that appearances were deceiving. While he was sizing her up she turned and locked eyes with him. By the look on her face, she yet again was not impressed. Finnick leaned over to Augustus and whispered “I think we should probably watch out for that one. But smile, make her think we are making fun of her.” 
Augustus, who was new to all of this, smiled condescendingly at her before she sneered at them. Laughed with her district mate and left, the two teens turning back to the other careers. “We need to watch them, that's the first time 9 hasnt been scared shitless when they walked in. Plus for whatever reason the crowd loved them, and that's always a problem.” Cashmere said, looking down at her nails before looking over at her brother who nodded. 
That was all that passed between the group before they all went up to watch the reapings. 
~~~~~~~~~
After hair was ripped out that you didn't even know existed, you were bathed and rubbed with an oil that made your skin seem tanned and shimmery. Makeup was smeared across your face as someone else was pulling at your hair. You sat quietly knowing that fussing was just going to make the process longer. Soon enough, but not soon enough you were left in just a robe in an empty room with nothing but a cot, a chair and a wardrobe. 
When the door opened, a dark skinned woman with her hair back in box braids stepped in. She had just a little gold makeup on, and a small gold rose tattooed behind her ear. She smiled genuinely at you before pulling you into a hug, when she pulled back she squeezed your shoulders. “I'm sorry you have to be here.” She said so quietly you almost missed it. 
All you did was nod and look down, but she put a hand under your chin and lifted your face. You could tell as she turned it and then looked at your hair that she was examining the team's work. Your eye make up was dramatic, a medium dark green on the lid, with orange brushed into brown that reminded you of leaves changing color. Your bottom lid had the same orange and brown along with dramatic winged eyeliner and false lashes. 
Your hair had a thick but slightly messy fishtail crown braid with the rest waterfalling down your back in waves. Small clips that had butterflies, bees and dragonflies on them had been placed seemingly at random around your head. A crown woven with flowers such as Cardinal flower, wood lilies, dotted gayflower, and multiple colors of milkweed rested on your head. The smell was amazing, they looked and smelled like they had just bloomed in the fields behind your home. The mulberries and huckleberries looked like they had been picked at their peak and preserved perfectly. 
“My name is Lavanna, I'm your and Hardin's main stylist. I will be designing all your outfits, I'm fresh out of school, this is my first game. But I plan to put you out there in a big way. Not to sound full of myself but I think the only person who could out do what I have planned for you is my younger brother Cinna.. And thankfully he's still in school.” Lavanna smiled at you before turning to the wardrobe and pulling out what you think are pieces of a dress. 
She helps you into a dress that is skin tight from the shoulders, down your arms and chest. Tight all the way to your hips where it had just enough room and stretch to walk before it reached along with a slit that went very very high up your right leg. The top, including your arms, was green like the forest then it started to mix and fade into a dark amberish color. Then it ombred down into a beautiful bright orange that reminded you of the sunsets back home. Again it felt like you were looking at the leaves changing. 
She helped you into orange heels that wrapped up your legs but thankfully had a thick heel. Last but not least she told you to raise your arms as she wrapped a belt around your waist. It perfectly blended in with the color of your dress, and attached was something out of a book. It looked like it belonged to royalty or a goddess, not you. 
Behind you was a long tulle train, the tulle barely colored to match the dress where it needed too. But at the bottom was leaves, they started green but turned into rich reds and bright vivid oranges and yellows. Leaf shapes stood out to you, yet again from back home. 
Birch, black walnut, black and red maple, northern pine oak and cottonwood leaves. Entwined into the leaves were other plants like fluffy cattails, golden wheat, and pampas grass. The only thing you could recognize that wasn't from your district in the entire outfit was pampas grass. All the flowers, all the leaves, even the berries in the crown were all something that grew in your district. 
When she turned you around and you caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror you had to step closer and touch the glass. You couldn't believe this was you, sure you had always been told you were pretty, but this was something else. With just some make up, a good proper shower and some fancy clothes you looked like a goddess. You wanted to cry, but couldn't bear to ruin the hours of work you had just gone through. 
Lavanna could tell you were at a loss for words, so she stepped forward, careful of the huge train she had created. She smiled at you in the mirror and spoke softly trying not to spook you. “I decided to go a different direction.. The whole farmers thing is a little played out, plus you volunteered for a young girl. And your friend volunteered to stay with you, so I thought you guys deserved something really special.” 
When you spoke, it was a whisper “I look like some type of goddess or something.. Like something out of the books in the district library.” You turned to her when she started chuckling, unsure if she was laughing at you or not but she shook her head. “That's what I was going for. Ceres and Saturn, the Goddess of Grain crop and Agriculture. She was also a fertility goddess but we don't need to get into that. And then Saturn God of abundance, wealth, agriculture and a few other unimportant things. Would you like to go see his outfit?” 
 You nodded silently, still stunned as you looked at yourself one last time. Then you followed Lavanna out into a hall, then down into an area outside that was full of people in costumes and chariots. You turned away refusing to look at the other tributes as you looked for Hardin. And when he appeared you were just as awestruck by his outfit as you had been by your own. But also by him, because he looked so much healthier than he had before. 
Hardin had gladiator sandals on with a toga that was tight to his chest and showing part of it. It was the same colors as yours but without all the filigree. He had a crown of leaves that matched the bottom of your train, it had the same berries and some branches on it. His dark curly hair was shiny and tamed for the first time, probably ever. He was also holding a very sharp looking scythe.  He looked like the god that would stand next to you, and in this moment he would. 
He stared at you in a daze, watching as the train and the bottom of the dress swished around you. He had always told you that you were beautiful, really one of the best looking girls in your age group back home. But now you really looked beautiful, not sweat covered and exhausted from a day in the fields. Even more tired because you knew you would need to come home and care for your grandparents before getting a few hours of sleep and doing it again. You looked like someone who could actually win. 
Finnick watched from the district four chariot. He had to force his jaw not to drop as he turned to the sound of heels clicking. His tributes were already waiting on the chariot, one dressed like a fisher the other like a mermaid. They looked great but nowhere near as breathtaking as you looked. 
It literally felt like someone slapped Finnick in the face when you walked in. The color of the dress perfectly sets off your skin tone. Your hair fell in just the right way to frame your face. The makeup was dramatic and made the color of your eyes pop. Whoever was styling you had done a fantastic job, but Finnick knew they had a gorgeous model to work with. 
He figured you would have looked beautiful in the normal farmer garb your district normally wore. He watched with slight jealousy as you laughed with the male tribute whose name he learned was, Hardin. Watching with a curious mind as the two of you pointed out leaves on your dress with bright eyes and laughed. 
He wished that he could be as carefree as you were in that moment. His thoughts were interpreted by a whack on the head. When he turned rubbing the sore spot Mags was smiling up at him with a knowing look. “You like her don't you.” She said as a statement and not a question. 
Finnick shook his head and looked around frantically, “First off, you know not to say things like that. Second, I dont even know her.. I just think..” his voice trailed off as he turned back to look at you. A woman who he assumed was your stylist was flitting around you tapping on things placed in your hair. He watched as small insects began to flutter their wings. 
His mouth moved without his brain telling it too, he felt so comfortable around Maggie that the facade he put up every single day outside of his home slipped. “I just think she's the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.” As soon as it was out he coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. He had never said something like that, or felt so inclined to talk to someone. 
He watched as you and Hardin stepped up onto your chariot, you were now holding a small basket woven into a cornucopia. Your stylist team shoved small flowers and foods into the basket as the main stylist  moved the train of your dress to flow behind you. Lavanna held it up with the help of one of the others as your chariot moved. Mags gasped when the wind from the ride caught the ends of your train holding it up. The tulle had folded out giving the effect of leaves and grass flying out behind your chariot. All he wanted was to catch your scent on the air, to feel your warmth radiate around him like the sun. 
Taking a step back he forced his brain to remind his hormonal heart that he no longer had the luxury of thinking like that. 
He belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. And to the people who threw money away to spend time with him. No matter how disgusting he felt when he crawled into bed at night, it didn't matter. He had people to protect, parents and a friend or two. He couldn't allow himself to feel things towards those he couldn't have. 
And he couldn't have you.
~
~
~
PART 2
126 notes · View notes
skippyv20 · 7 days
Photo
Tumblr media
Hi Skippy & Friends-Pilgrim here getting to the bottom of this sneaky system we were not fully aware of it seems. Here are a few quotes from “Public Service or Propaganda? a 2014 Time Magazine article by Phil Bicker. This is just about the time the con artist grifter was getting into her groove of gaslighting. Discovering this wide-open arena must have been like finding the Golden Fleece for her.
"Many images published around the world on a daily basis are not taken by news organizations or commissioned by magazines, but are instead provided by third-party vendors who are, for various reasons, closer to the source of the story. Whether viewed as a public service or as propaganda, widely disseminated handout images provide visual material the public would otherwise rarely see. They can also, at times, constitute a minefield for the sources and publishers working with the material.”
It mentions the use of photos from places in the world no one is allowed like North Korea or where most humans can’t get to like space. But then there is this side of the coin. “Publicity machines, PR organizations, educational institutions and activist organizations like Greenpeace are also players in the handout business.”
“News organizations — AP, Reuters, Getty — who carefully vet these images to determine authenticity and the motives of those supplying them distribute these photos and, in a sense, validate them. Handouts distributed via the news agencies do bear a warning for those who receive them: namely, that the image was provided by a third party. However, sometimes this level of transparency and accuracy is not embraced by the media organizations who receive and disseminate the material to the public.” The christening photo and many others supplied by the Sussex PR machine with phony meta data information they plugged in, was deemed acceptable by these wizards of news!!
What a sham! For decades these news organizations have pandered images from con artists, making untold millions for all of them! They sell us garbage in the name of truth and now are cowering like the sleazeballs they are, hiding behind pithy excuses-or paid off photographers?! I think every Handout photo printed in the press needs to have a red HANDOUT stamp with the name of who provided it. The sensational Sussex photos went worldwide and were presented as truth, coming from the royal family!!! This will not be swept under the worn-out carpet and people like Ms Carparkle who abuse this shady system to the max needs to be stopped and identified as the desperate fraud she has become. Over and out for now.
Great post!  Thank you so much dear Pilgrim!  Much appreciated!🙂❤️
21 notes · View notes
mama-qwerty · 9 days
Text
Warning, AI rant ahead. Gonna get long.
So I read this post about how people using AI software don't want to use the thing to make art, they want to avoid all the hard work and effort that goes into actually improving your own craft and making it yourself. They want to AVOID making art--just sprinting straight to the finish line for some computer vomited image, created by splicing together the pieces from an untold number of real images out there from actual artists, who have, you know, put the time and effort into honing their craft and making it themselves.
Same thing goes for writing. Put in a few prompts, the chatbot spits out an 'original' story just for you, pieced together from who knows how many other stories and bits of writing out there written by actual human beings who've worked hard to hone their craft. Slap your name on it and sit back for the attention and backpats.
Now, this post isn't about that. I think most people--creatives in particular--agree that this new fad of using a computer to steal from others to 'create' something you can slap your name on is bad, and only further dehumanizes the people who actually put their heart and soul into the things they create. You didn't steal from others, the AI made it! Totally different.
"But I'm not posting it anywhere!"
No, but you're still feeding the AI superbot, which will continue to scrape the internet, stealing anything it can to regurgitate whatever art or writing you asked for. The thing's not pulling words out of thin air, creating on the fly. It's copy and pasting bits and pieces from countless other creative works based on your prompts, and getting people used to these bland, soulless creations made in seconds.
Okay, so maybe there was a teeny rant about it.
Anyway, back to the aforementioned post, I made the mistake of skimming through the comments, and they were . . . depressing.
Many of them dismissed the danger AI poses to real artists. Claimed that learning the skill of art or writing is "behind a paywall" (?? you know you don't HAVE to go to college to learn this stuff, right?) and that AI is simply a "new tool" for creating. Some jumped to "Old man yells at cloud" mindset, likening it to "That's what they said when digital photography became a thing," and other examples of "new thing appears, old people freak out".
This isn't about a new technology that artists are using to help them create something. A word processing program helps a writer get words down faster, and edit easier than using a typewriter, or pad and pencil. Digital art programs help artists sketch out and finish their vision faster and easier than using pencils and erasers or paints or whatever.
Yes, there are digital tools and programs that help an artist or writer. But it's still the artist or writer actually doing the work. They're still getting their idea, their vision, down 'on paper' so to speak, the computer is simply a tool they use to do it better.
No, what this is about is people just plugging words into a website or program, and the computer does all the work. You can argue with me until you're blue in the face about how that's just how they get their 'vision' down, but it's absolutely not the same. Those people are essentially commissioning a computer to spit something out for them, and the computer is scraping the internet to give them what they want.
If someone commissioned me to write them a story, and they gave me the premise and what they want to happen, they are prompting me, a human being, to use my brain to give them a story they're looking for. They prompted me, BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN THEY WROTE THE STORY. It would be no more ethical for them to slap their name on what was MY hard work, that came directly from MY HEAD and not picked from a hundred other stories out there, simply because they gave me a few prompts.
And ya know what? This isn't about people using AI to create images or writing they personally enjoy at home and no one's the wiser. Magazines are having a really hard time with submissions right now, because the number of AI generated writing is skyrocketing. Companies are relying on AI images for their advertising instead of commissioning actual artists or photographers. These things are putting REAL PEOPLE out of work, and devaluing the hard work and talent and effort REAL PEOPLE put into their craft.
"Why should I pay someone to take days or weeks to create something for me when I can just use AI to make it? Why should I wait for a writer to update that fanfic I've been enjoying when I can just plug the whole thing into AI and get an ending now?"
Because you're being an impatient, selfish little shit, and should respect the work and talent of others. AI isn't 'just another tool'--it's a shortcut for those who aren't interested in actually working to improve their own skills, and it actively steals from other hardworking creatives to do it.
"But I can't draw/write and I have this idea!!"
Then you work at it. You practice. You be bad for a while, but you work harder and improve. You ask others for tips, you study your craft, you put in the hours and the blood, sweat, and tears and you get better.
"But that'll take so looooong!"
THAT'S WHAT MAKES IT WORTH IT! You think I immediately wrote something worth reading the first time I tried? You think your favorite artist just drew something amazing the first time they picked up a pencil? It takes a lot of practice and work to get good.
"But I love the way [insert name] draws/writes!"
Then commission them. Or keep supporting them so they'll keep creating. I guarantee if you use their art or writing to train an AI to make 'new' stuff for you, they will not be happy about it.
This laissez-faire attitude regarding the actual harm AI does to artists and writers is maddening and disheartening. This isn't digital photography vs film, this is actual creative people being pushed aside in favor of a computer spitting out a regurgitated mish-mash of already created works and claiming it as 'new'.
AI is NOT simply a new tool for creatives. It's the lazy way to fuel your entitled attitude, your greed for content. It's the cookie cutter, corporate-encouraged vomit created to make them money, and push real human beings out the door.
We artists and writers are already seeing a very steep decline in the engagement with our creations--in this mindset of "that's nice, what's next?" in consumption--so we are sensitive to this kind of thing. If AI can 'create' exactly what you want, why bother following and encouraging these slow humans?
And if enough people think this, why should these slow humans even bother to spend time and effort creating at all?
Yeah, yeah, 'old lady yells at cloud'.
20 notes · View notes
beesmygod · 8 months
Text
BLOODBORNE LORE Q+A PART 6: the founding of pthumeru, the discovery by byrgenwerth, and the fishing hamlet
part 1
part 2
part 3
part 4
part 5
---
BLOCK #LONG POST/ TO NOT SEE THESE HUGE POSTS
shawn asked me a question about the mensis ritual and mergo and the process of trying to answer it in short became a catastrophic failure.
this is going to be a nightmare (hehehuhehehe) to try to explain in broad strokes to people who don't know bloodborne or even to people who do, but i'm going to do my best. anyone who tells you they know what happened or they have "solved" the mensis ritual is a liar. the timeline is muddy and deliberately vague, up to and including how long ago everything happened. i have educated guesswork but that's it.
i will post pure speculation in italics and important nouns in bold. i am peppering this with as many wiki links as possible to back up my claims. not gonna lie this looks like a fucking MAD magazine editor went to town on it or like the timecube website submitted a guest article.
but much like how you need to first make the universe in order to make an apple pie, we must first talk about the history of yharnam before we can talk about its newest resident, mergo.
---
untold eons ago, a race known as the pthumerians served the great ones as they slumbered. after becoming exposed to the deliberately vague notion of "the eldritch truth" (it is unclear if this is a specific phenomenon, like the secret to their longevity, or simply the knowledge of the great one's existence), they developed a unique and startling appearance: pallid skin, black eyes, and slacking jaws. i mean, they also lived underground so they look like underground creatures do. either way, they are distinctly inhuman humanoids.
this civilization became lost, but did not die; they continued to serve the "gods" underground, excavating tombs and chambers without rest. over time, they elected a leader, yharnam, pthumerian queen, who was given a ring imbued with special meaning by the great ones indicating her commitment to bearing a special child, a child of blood (the ramifications of this are not known). she still wears the ring today.
Tumblr media
arguably, a civil war breaks out in pthumeru, (as evidenced by the armors left by what must have been early cainhurst knights, but i have not looked into this enough to be satisfied) that results in a schism that pushes some pthumerians to the surface, where they become the modern day royalty of cainhurst. the cainhurst royalty and the pthumerian royalty both aspire to have a child of blood and have knights that work explicitly to further this goal, putting them at odds with each other. today's cainhurst royalty maintains some of the "pthumerian look" but not to such an exaggerated degree, with the resemblance fading with each removed generation.
Tumblr media
pictured above are the canonical cainhurst royalty and their descendants in order of relation from left to right: annalise, queen of the vilebloods (top left), lady maria (top middle), arianna, woman of pleasure (right; she is also the most distant descendant). the bottom image is concept art of lady maria during her boss fight with a more exaggerated look that did not make it into the game.
---
anyway: a bazillion years later or whatever. the cainhurst royals rule over a land that includes the victorian england-ish city of yharnam, named for the forgotten queen of pthumeru. the main appeal of yharnam is its proximity to a university of bold, weird research.
the school of byrgenwerth and its scholars were once an archeological and historical research center. however, during the course of their studies they discovered a vast labyrinth beneath the school where (if the first location they discovered was the same as ours this would be the pthumerian labyrinth) they encountered ancient humanoids, women with the ability to re-animate corpses, an perpetually burning dog who somehow still lives and, most intriguing of all, a creature that defied all understanding. further investigation revealed an unspecified "holy medium", ritual blood, which does not coagulate. this is the ritual blood found in old yharnam on the altar.
further investigation of the labyrinth was halted by the first encounter with a beast. here is a longer post about that encounter and my evidence that leads me to believe it occurred.
this is where things get really fuzzy as to which event happened first. im going to post this part without italics because all the events do happen. its just not clear in what order.
in order to combat these newfound beasts gehrman, a student of byrgenwerth (as he has dialogue where he refers to willem as "master"), took up self-styled arms (the first trick weapons) and became the first hunter. he was followed by a collection of self-styled mercenaries that would come to be known as "the old hunters". there is evidence of the old hunters having once been in the labyrinth as you can summon one to help you fight and the bell descriptions reveal that they were used by the first hunter after discovering them in the labyrinth.
the miraculous healing abilities of the old blood (the origins of which are not specified but i can show you my guesswork later lol) in the labyrinth became known to the students at byrgenwerth. the blood is used to combat the beasts by use of invigorating injections. blood is plentiful and works quickly to heal.
byrgenwerth also begins study and collection of the "phantasms" present (or were once present) in the labyrinth. the discovery of the augur of ebrietas, a slug that summons flailing tentacles of unknown origin, and the arcane properties of pearl slugs drives the school's continued plunges into the depths in spite of the danger posed. part of this research involved discovering the parasitic qualities of these creatures, which could inhabit eyes.
while continuing to investigate the ruins, byrgenwerth became aware of a fishing village where a washed up carcass of a monster was teeming with otherworldly parasites and a stillborn fetus. the parasites had caused the villagers to transform into fish-like monster people not dissimilar to the monster on the coast. the villagers seem alright with this change and actively cultivate millions of the parasites for daily use, such as especially potent lamp oil [1].
Tumblr media
upon arrival to the village, the school and its hunters helped themselves to a little bit of genocide just for fun. villager's heads were treppaned open in the search for "eyes on the inside" (a visual metaphor for insight as well as a literal phenomenon) and the monstrous corpse was desecrated by the byrgenwerth researchers who took her child (as the villagers of the fishing hamlet chant) and one of the orphan's three umbilical cords, the one lined with eyes.
Tumblr media
i know we find this in a weird place later. we'll get there.
but this wasn't just some pile of fish goo they were fucking with, it was the corpse of the great one, kos (or as some say, kosm). kos's wrath and retribution would come in due time. this event triggered the creation of the hunter's nightmare, a sort of eternal, bloody hell for hunters who participated in the massacre and those who become "blood drunk" where the must relive the event for all eternity. notable hunters trapped in the nightmare from the time of the old hunters include ludwig (not yet notable), laurence (looking awful but he had a busy couple of years before he wound up there), some named NPC hunters such as yamamura and gratia, and lady maria.
lady maria, gehrman's apprentice, could not tolerate her role in the fishing hamlet massacre and threw her beloved weapon into the fishing village well. she, with others, joined laurence when he split from byrgenwerth to found the healing church. its not explicit that the fishing village massacre was the reason for the split, as there were ideological differences (and family matters) brewing that also came to a head, but a one sided genocide seems like a matter that would cause a splinter between one faction that is ruthless in its methods and another that appears to be in the business of healing.
but thats a whole other post.
---
uhhh this took a very long time but once im done with this i will never have to type it ever again. the next one covers the healing church in its entirety and should end with the arrival of our hunter in yharnam as the city fully slides into chaos. thank you for reading. or not. its none of my business.
---
https://www.reddit.com/r/bloodborne/comments/3uq6wq/interesting_lamp_in_the_hamlet_spoilers_maybe/ which leads to this image: https://i.imgur.com/zVJbcJ2.jpg
50 notes · View notes
books · 5 months
Text
Off the Page: Taylor Lorenz
Taylor Lorenz is a technology columnist for The Washington Post's business section covering online culture and the content creator industry. She was previously a technology reporter for The New York Times business section, The Atlantic, and The Daily Beast. Her writing has appeared in New York Magazine, Rolling Stone, Outside magazine, and more. She is the author of Extremely Online: The Untold Story of Fame, Influence, and Power on the Internet.
We spoke with Taylor about her book and some of the wild and wonderful parts of internet history—including mommy bloggers, anonymity, and, of course, Tumblr.
23 notes · View notes
transparencyboo · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
I recently played through Mystic Ark (1995) each night before bed during the last week or so. I initially saw a promotion for the game next to Terranigma (a longtime favorite) in a Famitsu magazine earlier this year, and got mesmerized by its Labyrinth-esque cover artwork in particular. I immediately knew I had to play whatever this was.
So I took the slowburn approach by first going through The 7th Saga and Brain Lord, two previous games by developers Produce. While not remotely essential for this venture, they still gave me some neat context and groundwork for the game's roots. I think they ultimately helped me appreciate this game all the more.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
In Mystic Ark you wake up alone on a desolate eerie island and need to travel to different worlds in search of the titular arks to grow stronger and regain your freedom. These worlds act as self-contained stories with distinct vibes, genres and presentation. It's a delightfully novel idea for a game to take an anthology approach, and I wish more games would attempt this because it's highly effective in keeping up intrigue and wonder. Every time you depart for the next world is a big mystery and you usually need a moment to piece together what each new tale is gonna be about.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
For example, the first world is a light hearted tale about war and conflict told through two rivalling factions of pirate cats. The game sees you meandering in back-and-forth fetch quests to support both sides' advances towards the same goal, it has a lot of cheeky humor about this and presents itself in a very cute and endearing fashion.
Another story has you enter a mysteriously abandoned world devoid of even monsters, only populated by a few orphaned children who play in a ghost town by day and then go home to a mansion run by a suspicious nun. As you go along with their antics and babysit them out of dangerous situations, the situation only keeps getting stranger.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
One world in particular locks you inside a horror story without your party members, as you work your way through a labyrinthine haunted house by solving puzzles interspersed by ominous scribbles by a paranoid previous resident. The atmosphere hangs heavy and the suspension has you on needles, it's a lovely showcase of Mystic Ark's core concept that it effectively pulls these twists and turns without ever feeling jarring.
One aspect I enjoyed in particular was the semi-point and click flavour in your interactions with the world. Many points will pull up an extra menu with a nice picture of what you're looking at and various options of how to fiddle and prod at it. Supposedly the 1999 Playstation sequel Mystic Ark: Maboroshi Gekijo leaned even further into this, and I'm not at all surprised. Would love to play it whenever someone decides to translate it or I get good enough at Japanese. Whichever one comes first.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Mystic Ark is a gorgeous and rich experience that continuously rewards the player for sticking with it. Even though the individual tales all have satisfying conclusion, the game still maintains a lot of mystery by keeping the finer points untold. You rarely get the full picture and that only helps to make you keep wondering. The ending to the game itself is as vague as it begins, and allows for many different interpretations. My take is that the game, through its anthology structure, tells us about the many little worlds we can find all around us, the stories that reside in anything. The worlds are entered by interacting with regular objects like a ship model, a painting or a storybook, and recurringly we must return to the island to gather figurines of lost actors in the stories to progress. I think Mystic Ark emphasises the player's power as a sort of story teller, fiddling with the plots in interesting ways, to build a genuine interest. At the end we are seemingly encouraged to take this depiction of narratives and inspiration to go out into our own world and find our own stories to tell.
It's a mesmerizing all-timer and for sure a new favorite of mine. /Kiki
(Extra note: The game was only released in Japan, so I played a fan translation. There are two of them and after some comparison I went with the one by Dynamic Design because it felt a bit more vibrant and inspired in its word choices. Your preference may differ though and they both seem to be good.)
24 notes · View notes