#algorithmic content resistance

[zomb13s]

AN OPEN LETTER FROM THE VOID(Delivered via Vacuitas Engine, sealed with stroopwafel resin)

Dearest Co-Conspirator, Let me confess in the slant-light of a Utrecht dawn: I am Dennis the Menace if Dennis swallowed a kaleidoscope of Judith Butler texts and Alanis Morissette B-sides. My bald head? A polished rebellion against your gender binaries. This red Ecko bomber? Armor stitched from Prodigy concert rags and Foucault quotes. The polo glasses? For watching liars squirm like worms in…

[gyuuberryy]

fatal trouble

pairing: vampire!sunghoon x reader

synopsis: your roommate is hot. really really hot. and odd too. really really odd. after a strange experience with him, you slowly start distancing yourself from him. but, it becomes exceptionally hard with your feelings coming in the way. how are you supposed to protect yourself if you can’t resist him? the answer is you don’t need to. your fates are intertwined and there's no letting go.

genre: roommates to lovers, vampire au, soulmate au

warnings: suggestive content, mentions of nightmares and blood, jealous!sunghoon, 

note: dropping this before i go on hiatus for a month due to school work. i haven't proofread it that well i hope there are no mistakes. also im obsessed with vampire aus, enhablr needs more of them fr!! i hope you enjoy reading this!

word count: 6k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the soft glow of your laptop screen illuminated your face, casting long shadows across sunghoon's pristine white sheets. you were sprawled out on his bed, legs crossed beneath you, surrounded by a chaotic scatter of textbooks and papers. the quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the room, broken only by the intermittent clicks of your keyboard.

sunghoon sat at his desk, a silhouette against the darkened room, save for the focused beam of his desk lamp. his fingers danced across the keyboard with an almost rhythmic precision, the soft glow of the screen reflecting in his dark eyes. you’d grown accustomed to the sight of him engrossed in his work, a solitary figure lost in the world of ones and zeros.

you’d known each other for a few months now, the kind of acquaintance born out of shared living space and the occasional group project. as roommates sharing the same major, your apartment had become a de facto study hub. computer science had thrown you together more often than not, and tonight was no exception. 

“hey, did you get the part about the algorithm?” your voice, a whisper in the quiet, cut through the comfortable silence.

sunghoon glanced up, his eyes a deep, almost unnatural shade of red in the dim light. for a moment, you were struck by how different he looked compared to the daylight. “yeah, i think so. isn’t it something about minimising the time complexity?”

you nodded, your eyes scanning the code on your screen. “exactly. i’m just having trouble with the implementation.”

a comfortable silence settled over the room as you both focused on your respective screens. the only sound was the rhythmic tapping of keys and the occasional sigh of frustration. you glanced up at sunghoon, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of his monitor. his long, slender fingers moved with an almost hypnotic grace across the keyboard.

there was something undeniably attractive about his focused intensity. his features, normally sharp and aloof, softened slightly when he was engrossed in his work. it was a side of him you rarely saw, and it was oddly captivating.

you shook your head, mentally scolding yourself for such thoughts. he was your roommate, nothing more. and besides, there was no way he could be interested in someone like you.

“hey,” sunghoon’s voice cut through your reverie, “i think i figured it out.”

you blinked, startled. “oh, really? want to explain it?”

he nodded, sliding his chair back and standing up. he walked over to your side of the bed, his tall frame looming over you. as he leaned in to point at your screen, his scent washed over you – a subtle blend of wood and something else, almost sweet, that you couldn’t quite place.

you felt a strange warmth creeping up your neck as he hovered over you. his proximity was unnerving, yet strangely intoxicating. you swallowed hard, trying to focus on the code in front of you.

sunghoon's breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble, "try this." his finger hovered over your keyboard, about to demonstrate.

you felt a shiver run down your spine, not from the cool night air but from the inexplicable sensation of being so close to him. his scent, a mix of something woodsy and faintly sweet, was intoxicating. you tried to focus on the code, to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

he typed a few lines, his fingers brushing against yours. the contact sent a jolt of electricity through you. you forced yourself to concentrate on the screen, trying to understand the changes he made.

"see?" he said, straightening up. "it's simpler this way."

you nodded, still reeling from the physical contact. "thanks," you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper.

sunghoon stepped back, a small smile playing on his lips. "no problem," he said, turning back to his own computer.

you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. it was just sunghoon, your roommate. nothing more. but the way he had acted, the way he had touched you, it was making it hard to think of him that way.

the room was quiet again, the only sounds the soft clacking of keyboards and the occasional rustle of paper. you were deep in thought, trying to wrap your head around a particularly complex problem when a question popped into your head. on impulse, you asked, “so, sunghoon, what do you do in your free time, when you’re not, you know, studying?”

sunghoon paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. a flicker of something, perhaps surprise or amusement, passed across his face before he responded smoothly, “free time is a luxury for a computer science student, don’t you think? but when i do find a spare moment, i usually spend it reading or exploring new coding languages.”

his answer was polite, but it felt rehearsed, as if he'd prepared a response for just such a question. a sense of curiosity sparked within you. you’d always thought sunghoon was a bit of an enigma, but this was a new level of intrigue.

curiosity, a persistent itch, prodded you to ask something more than just about schoolwork.

“hey, i was curious about this” you started, your voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner, “where are you from?” it was a simple question, one you would normally ask any new acquaintance, but there was something about sunghoon that made you curious about his past.

he paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. for a moment, there was a stillness in the room that was almost palpable. then, with a casual shrug, he replied, "oh, just a small town. nothing interesting." the response was swift, deflecting your question with ease.

confused, you returned to your code, but your mind was racing. there was something off about sunghoon, something that had intrigued you from the moment you met him. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there were strange little details that had started to accumulate.

there were those odd instances – like the time you'd woken up in the middle of the night to find the kitchen light on and sunghoon standing at the counter, completely motionless, his eyes glowing an eerie red. or the way he seemed to have an uncanny ability to appear and disappear without a sound. and then there was the peculiar lack of a reflection in any mirror in his room.

these memories surfaced, sharp and clear, as if your brain was piecing together a puzzle it didn't know existed. you shook your head, dismissing the thoughts as overactive imagination. after all, sunghoon was just your roommate, a fellow computer science student. nothing more, nothing less.

a yawn escaped your lips as you stretched, the late hour finally catching up with you. “i think i’m going to call it a night,” you announced, rubbing your eyes. the weight of the unanswered questions about sunghoon was beginning to feel heavy.

sunghoon nodded, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. “alright, good night then. i’ll probably stay up a bit longer.”

you nodded in response, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. as you stood up, you glanced down at the floor. something was off. the soft glow from sunghoon’s computer cast long shadows on the floor, including a distinct one from his chair. but there was no shadow of sunghoon himself. the spot where his shadow should have been was empty, an inky void against the illuminated floor.

a chill ran down your spine. your heart pounded in your ears. your mind raced, trying to come up with a logical explanation, but nothing made sense. you snatched up your bag, your movements jerky and panicked. without a second thought, you fled back to your room, the door slamming shut behind you. you fumbled with the lock, your hands trembling. only when you heard the satisfying click of the lock did you allow yourself to breathe.

your heart pounded in your ears as you leaned against the cool metal of your door. the realisation of what you had seen was slowly sinking in. no human lacked a shadow. it was impossible. a chill ran down your spine.

you tried to rationalise it away. maybe there was a draft, or a trick of the light. but deep down, you knew better. something was profoundly wrong, and it was connected to sunghoon. the friendly, quiet roommate you thought you knew was now shrouded in an unsettling mystery.

you glanced at the clock. it was late, and exhaustion was starting to creep in. you needed to sleep, to clear your head. but how could you sleep with this looming over you? you decided to distract yourself by pulling out a book from your shelf, hoping the words would drown out the unsettling thoughts.

as you turned the pages, your mind kept drifting back to sunghoon. his unusual behaviour, the absence of his shadow, it all fit together into a terrifying puzzle. you tried to shake off the feeling, but it was like a persistent itch you couldn't scratch.

sleep finally claimed you, but it was restless. your dreams were filled with shadows, long and menacing, closing in on you. you woke up with a start, your heart racing. the first light of dawn was filtering through your curtains. you got out of bed and went to the window. the world outside looked ordinary, peaceful. but you knew the truth was far from it.

something was wrong with sunghoon, and you were determined to find out what.

the days following your unsettling discovery were a blur of forced normalcy. you tried to interact with sunghoon as if nothing was amiss, but the weight of your knowledge cast a long shadow over your interactions. you found yourself avoiding his gaze, your voice trembling when you spoke to him.

sunghoon seemed oblivious to your discomfort at first. he’d always been a quiet person, so his reserved nature didn’t raise any immediate suspicion. however, as the days turned into weeks, his patience began to wear thin.

"hey, are you free to study together tomorrow?" he asked one evening as you were both making dinner. his tone was casual, but you could detect a hint of underlying disappointment.

your heart skipped a beat. you’d been avoiding his study invitations, coming up with increasingly elaborate excuses. the truth hung heavy in the air, a tangible thing between you. you hesitated, your mind racing.

"i... i’m really busy tomorrow," you stammered, your voice barely audible. "maybe next week?"

disappointment flashed across sunghoon’s face before he masked it with a forced smile. "sure, no problem," he replied, his voice flat.

as he turned away, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. you'd hurt him, and you knew it.

the night was a descent into terror. you dreamt of shadows, long and menacing, closing in on you. sunghoon was there, but not as you knew him. his eyes burned with an unnatural light, and his form was distorted, monstrous. you were running, but your legs were leaden, and the shadows were gaining on you. a scream built in your throat, but no sound escaped.

you woke with a start, drenched in sweat. your heart pounded like a drumbeat in your chest. panic washed over you as you gasped for air. you were disoriented, unsure of where you were. a noise from the living room startled you, and you jumped out of bed.

the light was on, and there, standing in the doorway, was sunghoon, his face etched with concern. before you could react, you found yourself lunging at him, your hands grasping at his neck. he didn't fight back, instead, he held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

your sobs racked your body as you clung to him, finding solace in his warmth. he shushed you softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. gradually, your breathing began to slow, and your body relaxed.

when you finally calmed down, sunghoon gently guided you back to bed. he sat on the edge, running a comforting hand through your hair. you clung to him, your fear slowly dissipating.

in the quiet that followed, you felt a strange urge to confide in him. your voice was barely a whisper when you began, "i dreamt of you... as something... different."

sunghoon stiffened, but his grip on you didn't loosen. something flashed behind his eyes, but he listened intently as you recounted the terrifying details of your nightmare. when you finished, he was silent for a long moment. finally, he whispered, "go back to sleep," and you felt him lean down to kiss your forehead.

with that, he quietly left the room, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

the days that followed were a careful ballet of avoidance. you moved through your days with a practised detachment, constructing an invisible wall between yourself and sunghoon. the weight of your decision pressed down on you like a physical burden. despite the burgeoning crush that had blossomed in the quiet corners of your heart, you'd created a formidable wall between yourself and sunghoon. his enigmatic nature, coupled with the unsettling discoveries you'd made, had convinced you to keep him at arm's length. it was a lonely existence, a self-imposed exile that offered a semblance of safety.

your days were a monotonous cycle of lectures, assignments, and solitary meals. you'd found solace in the company of your classmate, lee heeseung, his cheerful demeanour a stark contrast to the storm raging within you. yet, even as you laughed and shared stories with him, a part of you longed for the quiet intensity of sunghoon's presence.

in the vast, impersonal lecture hall, you’d sought refuge in the anonymity of the crowd. but even here, you couldn't escape the weight of your decision. a persistent sense of being watched gnawed at you, a constant reminder of the eyes that followed your every move. and you knew very well who it was. it was during one such lecture that the tension reached a breaking point.

you were engrossed in your notes when a subtle shift in the atmosphere caught your attention. a cold prickle ran down your spine as you slowly turned your head. there, in the row behind you, sat sunghoon, his gaze fixed intently on you. his expression was a complex interplay of emotions - longing, pain, and a flicker of something darker.

your heart pounded in your chest as a wave of guilt washed over you. you'd hurt him, pushed him away without a second thought. in that moment, as his eyes held yours, you realised the depth of your own cowardice.

not to mention, with each passing night your nightmares had intensified. each night a descent into a darker, more terrifying realm. sleep, once a refuge, had transformed into a battlefield, leaving you exhausted and on edge. the physical toll was evident - dark circles shadowed your eyes, and your skin had started to take on a sickly pallor.

despite your deteriorating condition, you continued to maintain your distance from sunghoon. guilt gnawed at you, but fear held you captive. yet, in the aftermath of each nightmare, you found yourself seeking solace in his presence. he’d sit by your bed his silent vigil a comforting anchor in the storm of your nightmares. his touch, gentle and reassuring, had become a lifeline, pulling you back from the brink of despair.

one particularly harrowing night, you woke up screaming, your body drenched in sweat. sunghoon was by your side almost instantly, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. as your fear subsided, you began to recount the nightmare, your voice trembling.

"i... i dreamt of a place," you managed to say, your words halting. "a dark place, with... with strange symbols."

sunghoon's grip tightened around you. "and you were alone," he finished for you, his voice low and soothing.

your eyes widened in shock. how could he know what you had dreamt about? you hadn’t even managed to complete your story. yet, sunghoon had described it perfectly, as if he had been there with you.

a chill ran down your spine. you pulled away from him, your eyes filled with fear and confusion. sunghoon simply looked at you, his expression unreadable, before turning and leaving the room.

what did this mean? how could sunghoon know about your nightmares? the answers were as elusive as ever, but one thing was certain: the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary was blurring, and you were caught in the crossfire.

the nightmares ceased as abruptly as they had begun. you woke each morning feeling refreshed, the spectre of terror finally lifted from your shoulders. a sense of relief washed over you, but it was tinged with a strange melancholy. the nightly visits from sunghoon, a comforting ritual amidst the chaos, were now absent.

initially, you welcomed the return to normalcy. the constant fear and exhaustion had taken a toll on you, and the ability to sleep soundly was a precious gift. but as days turned into weeks, a nagging sense of unease crept in. sunghoon's absence, once a welcome respite, now felt like a void.

you started noticing subtle changes in him. his eyes, once bright and alert, were now shadowed by dark circles. his once sharp features seemed softened by fatigue. it was as if a weight was pressing down on him, a burden he carried alone.

a pang of guilt struck you. perhaps your avoidance had contributed to his deteriorating condition. you wanted to reach out, to offer support, but fear held you back. what if your presence only made things worse? what if you discovered something terrifying?

you longed to reach out to him, to offer solace and support, but the words remained trapped in your throat. the fear of rejection, of further pushing him away, paralyzed you. it was a cruel irony that the person you yearned to comfort was the one causing you the most pain. 

the afternoon sun beat down on the bustling campus as you made your way towards the nearest convenience store. the promise of a refreshing popsicle was the only thing that could lure you away from the confines of your dorm room. with a popsicle clutched in your hand, you emerged from the store, ready to face the world, one frozen treat at a time.

just as you were about to savour the first bite, heeseung materialised beside you, his infectious grin lighting up his face. "arcade?" he suggested, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. you nodded, the prospect of a distraction proving too tempting to resist.

you split the popsicle down the middle, the sweet, icy treat a welcome respite from the oppressive heat. as you handed one half to heeseung, a strange sensation washed over you. it was as if a cold draft had swept across your skin, a shiver that had nothing to do with the melting popsicle in your hand.

instinctively, you turned around, your heart pounding in your chest. there, on the other side of the road, stood sunghoon, his figure cast in the harsh sunlight. his eyes, usually guarded, were fixed on you with an intensity that bordered on hostility. a scowl marred his usually indifferent features, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

you offered a timid smile, a feeble attempt to bridge the chasm between you. but his gaze remained unwavering, cold and unforgiving. with a final, contemptuous glance, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

a wave of guilt and confusion washed over you. you'd hurt him, you knew that. but the intensity of his reaction was unexpected, almost frightening. as you turned back to heeseung, you forced a smile, determined to push the unsettling encounter to the back of your mind.

the encounter with sunghoon left a bitter taste in your mouth. his hostile glare had shattered the fragile peace you'd been cultivating. as you and heeseung made your way to the arcade, your mind raced, trying to decipher the meaning behind sunghoon's outburst. had your avoidance pushed him to the brink? or was there something more sinister at play?

the arcade, with its flashing lights and the cacophony of sound, offered a temporary escape from the turmoil within. you lost yourself in the rhythm of the games, the competitive spirit temporarily drowning out the unsettling incident. yet, even as you laughed and cheered with heeseung, your mind kept drifting back to sunghoon, his angry gaze burning into your memory.

as the afternoon wore on, a sense of unease settled over you. the carefree atmosphere of the arcade couldn't mask the growing storm within. the incident with sunghoon had opened a wound, a raw and painful reminder of the complex dynamics between you.

you glanced at heeseung, his laughter infectious, and felt a pang of guilt. he was doing everything to lift your spirits, to distract you from your troubles. but your mind was elsewhere, trapped in a labyrinth of doubt and fear.

the walk back to your dorm was a solitary affair. the campus, usually bustling with activity, seemed deserted. with each step, the weight of your worries grew heavier. the encounter with sunghoon had forced you to confront the reality of the situation. you couldn't continue to bury your head in the sand, hoping that the problem would resolve itself.

the weight of the day pressed down on you as you unlocked the apartment door. exhaustion tugged at your limbs, but the lingering unease from your encounter with sunghoon kept your mind racing. 

as you stepped into the living room, a jolt of surprise ran through you. sunghoon was standing in the kitchen, his silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the refrigerator.

there was an unnatural stillness to him, a predatory calm that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes, when they met yours, held a strange intensity, a glint of something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. "fancy seeing you here," he said, his voice low and measured.

you forced a smile, your heart pounding in your chest. "just got back," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

he approached you slowly, his steps deliberate. "we have that new assignment," he began, his voice low and seductive. "maybe we could work on it together tomorrow?"

your mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse. "i'm... i'm pretty busy," you stammered, avoiding his gaze.

sunghoon's expression darkened. with a swift movement, he closed the distance between you, cornering you against the kitchen counter, his hands grabbing your hips. his proximity was unnerving, his scent, a mix of wood and something faintly sweet, filling your senses. you could feel his breath on your skin, hot and heavy. 

"don't lie to me," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. "i know what's going on."

his grip tightened around you, and you winced. 

"it's nothing," you insisted, your voice trembling. "just... busy."

"busy with heeseung?" he spat out, his jealousy evident in his tone. his eyes narrowed, and you could see the anger simmering beneath the surface.

your face flushed with embarrassment. he was taking this the wrong way. “it’s not like that,” you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

sunghoon's grip tightened, pinning you against the cool surface of the counter. his breath was warm against your skin, and a strange sensation, a mix of fear and excitement, coursed through your veins.

“don’t lie to me,” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “you're avoiding me.”

you didn't know why, but the power dynamic between you and sunghoon was intoxicating. he had never behaved this way before let alone showcase jealousy so blatantly. it was hot. you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. 

before you could respond, you found yourself leaning in, your lips brushing against his. it was an impulsive act, a desperate attempt to silence him, to end the confrontation. but, to your surprise, he responded, his lips moving against yours with a gentle intensity.

the world seemed to slow down as the kiss deepened. but as quickly as it had begun, it ended. you pulled away, your heart pounding in your chest.

overwhelmed by a rush of emotions, you turned and fled to your room, slamming the door behind you. you leaned against the door, panting, your mind racing. 

the realisation of what you had done hit you like a tidal wave. you had kissed your roommate, a person you were actively avoiding due to a growing sense of fear and unease. the implications of your actions were terrifying. you'd crossed a line, a boundary you had carefully constructed to protect yourself.

a series of frantic knocks on the door jolted you out of your stupor. it was sunghoon, his voice muffled through the wood. "open up, please," he pleaded. your heart pounded in your chest. you couldn't face him now. you needed time to process what had happened, to regain control of the situation.

the knocking continued for a few minutes before finally ceasing. silence enveloped the room, heavy and oppressive. you slid down the door, your body trembling. what had you done?

morning arrived with a sense of foreboding. the thought of facing sunghoon filled you with dread, but the need to uncover the truth was stronger. you waited until the sound of his footsteps faded down the hallway, a sign that he had left for his morning jog.

with a deep breath, you crept into sunghoon's room, a sense of trepidation gnawing at you. the room was immaculate, a stark contrast to the chaos that often reigned in your own space. everything had its place, every surface spotless. there were no hidden compartments, no secret drawers, no clues to the enigmatic man who inhabited this space.

disappointment washed over you. you'd hoped to find something, anything that would explain the strange occurrences, the unsettling behaviour. but the room held no secrets, only a sense of emptiness.

your eyes scanned the room, searching for any hidden compartments or secret passages. everything seemed ordinary, almost mundane. disappointment was beginning to creep in when your gaze fell on a small cabinet tucked beneath sunghoon's desk. it was always locked, a tantalising enigma that had piqued your curiosity countless times.

today, however, there was a change. a key was lodged in the lock, an open invitation to delve into the forbidden. a wave of hesitation washed over you. you were invading his privacy, crossing a line you had sworn never to cross. but the allure of the unknown was too strong. curiosity, like a relentless tide, pulled you forward.

with trembling hands, you grasped the key and turned it. the lock clicked open with a satisfyingly smooth sound. you slid open the cabinet door, your heart pounding in your chest. a mini-fridge, small and unassuming, greeted you. a wave of relief washed over you. so this was the secret? a hidden stash of snacks?

you reached out to open the fridge door, a smirk playing on your lips. but as the cool air enveloped you, your blood ran cold.

inside, lined up neatly on the shelves, were rows of blood bags. the crimson liquid glinted in the dim light, a chilling contrast to the sterile white plastic. the sight was so surreal, so utterly horrifying, that for a moment, you thought you were hallucinating.

your mind went blank. a wave of nausea washed over you as you stared at the horrifying contents of the fridge. this couldn't be real. this was a nightmare, a twisted hallucination. but the cold, hard truth stared back at you, undeniable and terrifying.

the world tilted as your legs gave way, sending you crashing to the knees. blood bags. sunghoon kept blood bags. your roommate, the seemingly normal guy you knew, was a… vampire? the very concept seemed absurd, ripped from the pages of a fantasy novel. yet, the evidence sat before you, a stark reality that defied logic.

panic clawed at your throat, but a desperate hope flickered within you. maybe it was a medical condition. maybe he had a strange blood fetish. anything but a vampire!

"vampires don't exist, do they?", you mutter to yourself still in shock.

"yes, they do," a low voice confirmed, sending a tremor through your entire body. you spun around, scream caught in your throat. sunghoon stood in the doorway, his face unreadable, his eyes a bottomless well of emotions.

shame washed over you in a tidal wave. you felt exposed, not just for snooping, but for the fear and disgust that clouded your mind.

jumping out the window, a ridiculous notion moments ago, now seemed like the only way out. here, trapped in this surreal nightmare, your only escape seemed to be a dramatic leap from the fourth floor. it wouldn't kill you, right? you’d only break a few bones at best, which you were absolutely okay with. 

with a burst of adrenaline, you scrambled to your feet and bolted towards the window, desperation fueling your actions. but before you could reach the latch, a hand clamped around your waist, pulling you back with an iron grip. "don't even think about it," sunghoon's voice was a low growl, the air crackling with unspoken emotions.

you were pinned against his chest, his warmth a stark contrast to the chilling terror that gripped you. his eyes, no longer cold and distant, burned with a mix of anger and concern.

his words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the wildness of your actions. you struggled against his hold, your fear fueling your resistance. but there was an undeniable strength in him, a power that held you captive.

"please, let me go," you gasped, your voice trembling.

sunghoon's grip loosened slightly, and he took a step back. his eyes held a mixture of concern and something else, something you couldn't quite decipher. "i won't hurt you," he said, his voice soft. "i need to explain."

your eyes met his, a mixture of fear and confusion swirling in their depths. sunghoon seemed to read your mind, his expression softening as he took a step closer. he sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.

"i know this is a lot to take in," he began, his voice low and steady. "but i need you to trust me."

you nodded, your mind racing. there was something about his tone, a vulnerability beneath the hardened exterior, that compelled you to listen.

"i'm a vampire," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air. "it's not how i wanted things to be, but it's the reality i've been forced to live with."

he paused, his eyes searching your face for any signs of revulsion. but to your surprise, a strange sense of calm washed over you. this was the answer, the missing piece to the puzzle.

he went on to explain his existence, the centuries of solitude, and the desperate hope that had brought him to you. he talked about the blood bags, a necessary evil to sustain his life.

he continued, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. "i’ve been alone for so long. i've tried to live a normal life, to blend in. and then i met you."

his gaze softened, a tender look replacing the earlier intensity. "you're my anchor, my reason to keep going. your nightmares, the ones you've been having, are a connection between us. we share them, a soulmate bond, if you will. it's the only way for me to experience human emotions, to feel truly alive."

the revelation was mind-boggling. a vampire? your soulmate? it was a story straight out of a gothic novel. yet, as he spoke, a sense of peace washed over you. there was a truth in his eyes, a vulnerability that resonated with your own.

without thinking, you reached out and hugged him. your arms wrapped around him, offering comfort and acceptance. he froze, surprised by your sudden embrace.

"i don't care," you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. "i'll figure it out. we'll figure it out together."

he returned the hug, his arms tightening around you. his face was buried in your neck, his breath warm against your skin. you could feel his heart pounding against your chest, a rhythm that mirrored your own. in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, fear and confusion faded, replaced by a sense of hope and possibility.

"i'm so sorry about the nightmares," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "i stopped sleeping for a while, trying to find a way to stop them. i hated seeing you scared, all because of me."

your heart ached for him. he had sacrificed his own well-being to protect you. anger and concern warred within you. how could he be so selfless, so reckless? you pushed against his chest, needing to see his face, to read the emotions swirling in his eyes.

"don't be stupid," you scolded, your voice stern. "you can't just stop sleeping."

you gently pushed against his chest, trying to create some distance between you. you needed to see his face, to gauge his sincerity.

"stop," he whined, his voice laced with playful annoyance. "just stay like this for a little longer."

his words were a stark contrast to the seriousness of the situation, but they had the desired effect. you froze, your body responding to the unexpected shift in tone. sunghoon's grip tightened around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. his lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. the warmth of his breath mingled with the scent of his skin, creating an intoxicating blend that clouded your senses.

you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, fear and confusion replaced by a growing sense of intimacy. the line between platonic comfort and something more was blurring, and you were dangerously close to crossing it.

his voice dropped to a low octave, a husky rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "i can't stop thinking about how your lips felt against mine last night," he confessed, his breath warm against your skin. he pulled back, his eyes holding yours, a mischievous glint in their depths. 

"can we do that again?" he asked, his voice laced with playful arrogance.

before you could respond, his lips were on yours, claiming your mouth with a fierce urgency. the kiss was a whirlwind, a tempest of emotions and sensations. his tongue explored your mouth, demanding entrance, while your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. the kiss was different from the one you had shared the night before, filled with a newfound urgency and intensity. his tongue explored your mouth, a dance of desire and longing. you could feel the heat radiating from his body, a warmth that was both intoxicating and terrifying.

his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer. with a swift movement, he lifted you onto the bed, his lips trailing a path of fire down your neck. he nuzzled your skin, his breath creating a tingling sensation. "you smell so good," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "i had to stop myself from pouncing on you the first time i saw you." 

"from now on, you're sleeping in my bed," he declared, his voice firm. "i need to make sure those nightmares don't come back. and besides, i like having you close."

as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. in this moment, with sunghoon holding you close, everything else seemed to fade away. the line between reality and fantasy blurred, replaced by a single, undeniable truth: you were in the arms of a vampire, and you were dangerously close to falling in love.

his lips trailed down your neck, with such heat that it left you breathless. he nibbled at your skin, his teeth gently scraping against your sensitive flesh. the sensation was both painful and exhilarating, a heady mix of fear and desire. you gasped, your body arching involuntarily. 

"i'm not going to bite you," he promised, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. 

"not yet, at least."

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[perseidlion]

Streaming in Kaos

Well, it happened. I can't say that I'm surprised that KAOS has been cancelled by Netflix. I am a little surprised at the speed at which it was axed. Only a month after it aired, and it's already gone.

That has me wondering if the decision to cancel was made before the show even aired. We have to remember that marketing is the biggest cost after production. If the Netflix brass looked at the show and either decided (through audience testing, AI stuff or just their own biases) that it wasn't going to be a Stranger Things-level hit, they probably chose at that moment to slash its marketing budget.

That meant there was pretty much no way that KAOS was ever going to hit the metrics Netflix required of it to get a season 2.

What makes me so angry about this (other than the survival of a show relying on peoples' biases or AI) is that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you decide before a show is ever going to air that it won't be a success, then it probably won't be. If you rely on metrics and algorithms and AI to analyze art, you will never let something surprise you. You'll never let it grow. You'll never nurture the cult hits of the future or the next franchise.

Netflix desperately needs people behind the scenes that believe in stories and potential over metrics. Nothing except the same old predictable dreck is ever going to be allowed to survive if you don't believe in the stories you're telling.

The networks and streamers have a huge problem on their hands. They need big hits and to build the franchises of the future to sustain their current model (which is horribly broken.) But people have franchise fatigue and aren't showing up for known IPs like they used to. The fact that Marvel content is definitely not a sure thing anymore is a huge canary in the coal mine for franchise fatigue. People aren't just tired of Marvel, they're tired of the existing worlds both on the big screen and the small one. Audiences are hungry for something new.

It is telling that the most successful Marvel properties of the last few years have been the ones that do something different. Marvel is smart to finally pull out The X-Men because that is a breath of fresh air and something people are hungry to see more of.

There's pretty much no one behind the scenes (except for maybe AMC building The Immortal Universe) that is committing to really taking the time to build these new worlds. Marvel built the MCU by playing the long game. That paid dividends for a solid decade even if it's dropping off now. That empire was built not with nostalgia for existing IP (don't forget the MCU was built with B and C tier heroes) but with patience. Marvel itself seems to have forgotten this in recent years.

Aside from that, I think people really want stories that aren't connected to a billion other things. That takes commitment on the part of the audience to follow and to get attached to. People WANT three to five excellent seasons of a show that tells its own story and isn't leaving threads out there for a dozen spinoffs. We're craving tight storytelling.

KAOS could have been that. Dead Boy Detectives could have been that. So could Our Flag Means Death, Lockwood and Co, Shadow and Bone, The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, Willow, and a dozen other shows with great potential or were excellent out of the gate.

If you look at past metrics, you only learn what people used to like, not what they want now. People are notoriously bad about articulating what they want, but boy do they know it when they see it. Networks have to go back to having a dozen moderate successes instead of constantly churning through one-season shows that get axed and pissing off the people who did like it in a hamfisted attempt to stumble on the next big thing.

The networks desperately need to go back to believing in their shows. Instead, they keep cutting them off at the knees before they ever get a chance because some algorithm told them the numbers weren't there.

[jibunbosh]

Mesmerizer is a satire of TikTok, YouTube Shorts, and the rest of the modern short-form vertical video format

A brief thematic analysis.

I'm sure there are countless people already interpreting the imagery and details in this wonderful song & MV, like here and here, so I won't spend too much time retreading that ground. Miku and Teto are dancing. Miku gets hypnotized. Teto signals for help, but gets hypnotized at the end as well.

That part is obvious enough, but that's still pretty surface-level. What is this seemingly hyperspatial horror scenario supposed to mean to us?

While checking to see if anyone before me's already come to the same conclusions as I did and if I should bother not writing this text post at all (lol), I came across udin's great analysis video. She comes to the conclusion that the song tackles themes of disillusionment with reality and the ways we indulge in escapism to relieve ourselves of the pains of the world.

I agree with that reading! From practically the very beginning, we have Miku call to us - the viewer - to push away our true feelings. Teto comes in to peddle a solution, inviting us to surrender and empty our minds - in her words, "pretending to know nothing."

You, the viewer, are a critical character in this masquerade. For nearly the entire video, Miku and Teto's eyes are unfailingly trained on you. Or, well... perhaps they can't actually see you, but they can see a camera, or whatever other aperture the point of view is supposed to be from. And they know they're being watched. (Who else would Teto be sending distress signals to?)

Let's put a pin on that for later.

udin notes very early on that Miku and Teto are, conspicuously, kept in vertical frames - very similar to the video formats of TikTok (and Instagram Reels, and YouTube Shorts, and whatever other clones of the format exist.) You know, just like the animator Caststation's Rabbit Hole fan MV that went viral some months ago.

Hey wouldn't it be crazy if the song's producer, 32ki, released Mesmerizer shorts too haha. Wouldn't that be crazy.

Wow, wild.

These short-term vertical videos are captivating & alluring. If you're reading this, it's more likely than not that you've also found yourself caught up in them at least once, scrolling through the infinite algorithmic slurry and forgetting about the real-life issues you have at hand. Would you say, then, that you felt hypnotized? Mesmerized, even?

And so these two invite us to join their world and focus on the... uh... rectangle.

Their dances are repetitive, following the same loop. Their outfits are distinct, but their choreography isn't. They're copying the same formula, repeating it ad nauseam to the best of their ability.

They're doing a fucking TikTok dance.

Back to the pin I told you about earlier, with Miku and Teto looking at a camera.

Miku sways with the camera, eyes looking directly at it like a swinging pocket watch. She's been looking at it the entire time, after all. We've been seeing her via our screen this entire time, but, again, she doesn't necessarily see us. She's beholden to the camera, which she dances for day after day, caught up in its spell. She's hypnotized by it. Eventually, she breaks.

Teto, on the other hand, resists. For a while, anyway.

Despite her being the one jumping to us with the "solution" at the beginning of the MV, there's very quickly good reason to question how much agency she has in this. She dances for the camera as well, but she doesn't want to. She's signalling for help. She wants out.

Many content creators (as much as I personally loathe the non-specificity and soullessness of the term) have struggled with the adaptation to the short-form video format, and the preference the algorithm has had for these captivating, bite-sized videos. They're catchy, and easily drive up metrics. Practically anyone who's publishing their work via video format online needs to learn to adapt or fall behind, even if that means whittling their content down to fit the frame, the time, and people's shortening attention spans. Sometimes, that means compromising on specificity and completeness... or, in other words, the true representation of a full work.

The song's writer, 32ki, has been releasing songs on YouTube for several years. Their first YouTube Short, however, was posted only a year ago: a short, whittled-down segment of their previous song, CIRCUS PANIC!!!, hoping for it to win the ProsekaNEXT song contest. It was their first song to achieve widespread popularity and hit a million views.

The shorts, however, aren't the "true" versions of the song. The full song just won't fit.

We're being mesmerized as consumers of this endless stream of content, rather than appreciators of music and art. However, that relationship isn't completely symmetrical across the plane that is the 4th wall. Miku and Teto are trapped not by their attention spans, but by a compulsion to project their "truthful acting" and peddle that window into a colorful, problem-free world.

We, as the collective audience, need not dwell on any one thing for too long - we need only swipe, and move on to the next video. However, Miku and Teto are trapped behind the screen for eternity, day after day.

They're the only characters we get to see, of course. There's no evil 3rd voice synth character that's plotting to keep them trapped in there. We can't put a face to whatever force is hypnotizing them and trapping them behind the screen. It's faceless - like the inscrutable algorithms of YouTube recommendations or the TikTok For You page, or the impersonal corporations that develop & maintain those aforementioned apps. Miku and Teto's likenesses, on the other hand, are being exploited and extracted from for their entertainment value, being strung along by that metaphorical hypnotizing force like puppets on a string.

Many people, represented by Miku, enjoy their success on such platforms. It's freeing and liberating to throw oneself wholeheartedly into such an endeavor, of course! Others, represented by Teto, harbor their doubts of the emotional veracity of such a medium, but know they have little choice lest they face destruction... perhaps not literally as a person, but as an idea.

Wouldn't it be easier just to let oneself be swept away by it and give in?

[ladyaldhelm]

This post is a very long rant about Generative AI. If you are not in the headspace to read such content right now, please continue scrolling.

....

....

It has come to my attention that a person who I deeply admire is Pro-AI. Not just Pro-AI, but has become a shill for a multi-billion dollar corporation to promote their destructive generative AI tools, and is doing it voluntarily and willingly. This person is a creative professional and should know better, and this decision by them shows a lack of integrity and empathy for their fellow creatives. They have sold out to not just their own destruction, but to everyone around them, without any concern. It thoroughly disgusts and disappoints me.

Listen, I am not against technological advancements. While I am never the first to adopt a new technology, I have marveled at the leaps and bounds that have been made within my own lifetime, and welcome progress. Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning models certainly have their place in this world. Right now, scientific researchers are using advanced AI modeling to discover new protein configurations using a program called Alpha-Fold, and the millions of new proteins that were discovered have gone on to the development of life saving cancer treatments, vaccine development, and looking for new ways to battle drug-resistant bacterial infections. Machine learning models are being developed to track and predict climate change with terrifying accuracy, discover new species, researching new ways of dealing with plastic waste and CO2/methane, and developing highly accurate tools for early detection of cancers. These are all amazing advancements that have only been made possible by AI and will save countless millions of lives. THIS is what AI should be used for.

Generative AI, however, is a different beast entirely. It is problematic in many ways, and is destructive by its very nature. All the current models were trained on BILLIONS of copyrighted materials (images, music, text), without the creator's consent or knowledge. That in and of itself is highly unethical. In addition, these computers that run these GenAI programs use an insane amount of resources to run, and are a major contributor to climate change right now, even worse than the NFT and blockchain stuff a few years ago.

GenAI literally takes someone's hard work, puts it into an algorithm that chews it up and spits out some kind of abomination, all with no effort on the part of the user. And then these "creations" are being sold by the boatload, crowding out legitimate artists and professional creatives. Artists like myself and thousands of others who rely on income from art. Musicians, film makers, novelists, and writers are losing as well. It is an uphill battle. The market is flooded right now with so many AI generated art and books that actual artists and writers are being buried. To make matters worse, these generated works often have inaccuracies and spread misinformation and and lead to injury or even death. There are so many AI generated books, for example, about pet care and foraging for plants that are littered with inaccurate and downright dangerous information. Telling people that certain toxic plants are safe to eat, or giving information on pet care that will lead to the animal suffering and dying. People are already being affected by this. It is bad enough when actual authors spread misinformation, but when someone can generate an entire book in a few seconds, this gets multiplied by several orders of magnitude. It makes finding legitimate information difficult or even downright impossible.

GenAI seeks to turn the arts into a commodity, a get-rich-quick money making scheme, which is not the point of art. Automating art should never be the goal of humanity. Automating dangerous and tedious tasks is important for progress, but automating art is taking away our humanity. Art is all about the human experience and human expression, something a machine cannot ever replicate and it SHOULDN'T. Art should come from the heart and soul, not some crap that is mass produced to make a quick buck. Also developing your skills as an artist, whether that is through drawing, painting, sculpture, composing music, songwriting, poetry, creative writing, animation, photography, or making films, are not just about human expression but develop your brain and make you a more well rounded person, with a rich and deep experience and emotional connection to others. Shitting out crappy art and writing just to make a quick dollar defeats the entire purpose of all of that.

In addition, over-reliance on automated and AI tools is already leading to cognitive decline and the deterioration of critical thinking skills. When it is so easy to click a button and generate a research paper why bother putting the work in? Students are already doing this. Taking the easy way out to get a grade, but they are only hurting themselves. When machines do your thinking for you, what is there left to do? People will lose the ability to develop even basic skills.

/rant

By the way if any tech bros come at me you will be blocked without warning. This is not up for debate or discussion.

[stjohnstarling]

I think a useful response to all of this James Somerton stuff would be some analysis of the incentivization structures in place that reward faster and lower effort content, and strategies for what can be done to resist that pressure, because it's something that anyone trying to 'make it' as any kind of artist/writer/creative professional right now has to contend with. What James Somerton did is exactly what YouTube is set up to reward.

To "the algorithm," the actual content of anything is completely irrelevant. To YouTube (or Amazon, or TikTok, etc.) the perfect artist is an AI, purely because it can create things faster and with less effort than any human being ever can.

And I think that's fascinating, though the implications are things I can only dimly gesture at. The accelerationist AI apocalypse constantly being predicted by Silicon Valley execs - it's absurd in the real sense, but it is something of an apocalypse to these systems they've created. I have no idea what percentage of YouTube views are real humans versus bots or autoplay, but at this point it’s possible to have videos made by robots, served by robots, to be watched by other robots, faster and faster forever - and what happens to all that advertising money then? Could it bring their empire to the brink of collapse?

[rongzhi]

Hello! hope you're doing good. I wanted to ask your opinion on something and that is i've been thinking about downloading douyin or red note (i think the latter one is more plausible but) because based on your videos it seems content there is much more fun and not so much focused on tiktok in the sense of weird political propaganda, plastic surgery shenanigans or such. Would you recommend foreigners to download those apps regardless of the language barrier or oneself still gets to see that kind of content there? or maybe you just have to tailor your own experience? many many thanks xx

I think if you're interested in watching the videos, you may as well download the apps to check them out and see for yourself!

XHS is a bit more like instagram/pinterest but has videos as well, and if you're mostly watching videos, I imagine your discover page will start populating the feed more with similar content. The pro of XHS is it's available in the U.S app store and you won't have any issue signing up as a foreigner.

But yes, that said, the amount of fun or humor shown on my blog is not representative of the entirety of douyin. When you first start using the app, the videos you see will probably just be a lot of aesthetic thirst traps, news, scenery, and the like. There are weird political videos (simply regarding different topics than what you might expect on tiktok) and plastic surgery shenanigans for sure. It takes some tailoring for the algorithm to figure out what you want to watch. Searching phrases can help push it in the right direction, but even so, I have been using douyin (without an account lol) for almost 5 years now and there are still weeks when my algorithm gets pulled into a depressing loop of CCTV car crashes and true crime documentaries because oooh I just can't resist finding out what happened—but it's a trap because then douyin will think that's all you want to watch... AKA part of the reason I haven't been posting as much lately, besides not having the time to go on douyin and search; it's all cat videos and TV show recaps right now...

On the douyin app, they have added a translate feature to the comment section lately, so if you do get the app (instructions can be found in my FAQ for iphone users), you'll bee able to read (barring translation weirdness) what the comments say!

[violainebriat]

It's a bit weird typing out a full post here on tumblr. I used to be one of these artists that mostly focused on posting only images, the least amount of opinions/thoughts I could share, the better. Today, the art world online feels weird, not only because of AI, but also the algorithms on every platform and the general way our craft is getting replaced for close to 0 dollars. This website was a huge instrument in kickstarting my career as a professional artist, it was an inspiring place were artists shared their art and where we could make friends with anyone in the world, in any industries. It was pretty much the place that paved the way as a social media website outside of Facebook, where you could search art through tags etc. Anyhow, Tumblr still has a place in my heart even if all artists moved away from it after the infamous nsfw ban (mostly to Instagram and twitter). And now we're all playing a game of whack-a-mole trying to figure out if the social media platform we're using is going to sell their user content to AI / deep learning (looking at you reddit, going into stocks). On the Tumblr side, Matt Mullenweg's interviews and thoughts on the platform shows he's down to use AI, and I guess it could help create posts faster but then again, you have to click through multiple menus to protect your art (and writing) from being scraped. It's really kind of sad to have to be on the defensive with posting art/writing online. It doesn't even reflect my personal philosophy on sharing content. I've always been a bit of a "punk" thinking if people want to bootleg my work, it's like free advertisement and a testament to people liking what I created, so I've never really watermarked anything and posted fairly high-res version of my work. I don't even think my art is big enough to warrant the defensiveness of glazing/nightshading it, but the thought of it going through a program to be grinded into a data mush to be only excreted out as the ghost of its former self is honestly sort of deadening.

Finally, the most defeating trend is the quantity of nonsense and low-quality content that's being fed to the internet, made a million times easier with the use of AI. I truly feel like we're living what Neil Postman saw happening over 40 years ago in "amusing ourselves to death"(the brightness of this man's mind is still unrivaled in my eyes).

I guess this is my big rant to tell y'all now I'm gonna be posting crunchy art because Nightshade and Glaze basically make your crispy art look like a low-res JPEG, and I feel like an idiot for doing it but I'm considering it an act of low effort resistance against data scraping. If I can help "poison" data scrapping by wasting 5 minutes of my life to spit out a crunchy jpeg before posting, listen, it's not such a bad price to pay. Anyhow check out my new sticker coming to my secret shop really soon, and how he looks before and after getting glazed haha....

[luulapants]

Do you have any tips to be more punk in 2025 specifically for minors?

Hey, great question! Let's take a look at our list and see what still applies and what we can flip around for you.

Cut fast fashion - Still applies! Try clothing swaps with friends.

Cut subscriptions Analyze your media consumption - Do you tend to play phone games that are psychologically manipulative? Are algorithms taking you to content that makes you upset? Track your screen time, think about what's being sold to you, and resist only consuming the media that is fed to you.

Green your community self - Forget touching grass, find ways to touch dirt. Spend time outside in nature. Go for hikes, look at trees, track how plants and animals change over the seasons. You're part of the natural world, so go connect with it!

Be kind - Still applies! Try handing out more compliments.

Intervene - Still applies, and especially applies to bullies, including teachers. This can be as simple as saying, "That was a really messed up thing to say. I think you owe X an apology."

Get closer to your food - Still applies! Try packing your lunch.

Use opensource software Reject Web 2.0 - Before you try to learn Linux, people your age need to start by learning some basic computer and coding skills. My generation was given computer classes and had social media that encouraged custom coding. Yours has been deprived of this education and given prepackaged web content. Reject AI. Right click + inspect element + fuck around. Learn Raspberry Pi. Become the cyberpunk hacker you want to see in the world.

Make less trash - Still applies! If mom won't let you start a compost in the backyard, propose starting one at school!

Get involved in local school politics - Know what's going on with your school board, with school administration. Start an underground, uncensored school newspaper with the real dirt.

DIY > fashion - High school is where a lot of adults learned their bad habits about keeping up with appearance/fashion demands. Refuse to buy in now and make homemade the new cool.

Ditch Google - Still applies! And also check your app settings to see if you have apps with unnecessary permissions.

Forage - Still applies!

Volunteer - Still applies! There might be fewer opportunities for minors, but you'll never know until you ask. Don't be afraid to be the only young person at the volunteer session.

Help your neighbors classmates - Offer to study with students who are struggling. Become someone people can trust to tell if their home situation is difficult. If you have friends who don't get enough to eat at home, bring them home for dinner. Check on people.

Fix stuff - Still applies! This can be a fun activity with friends, too. Let's all hang out and see if we can fix this busted stereo!

Mix up your transit - Still applies! Is taking the bus considered lame at your school? Do it anyway.

Engage in the arts - Still applies! Pay attention to art events that your classmates are putting on. Go to the school play - or join! Stop in the art classrooms to see what people are working on.

Go to the library - Still applies, public and school libraries! Talk to the librarians - they know things. Find out if there are after school programs you can take advantage of.

Listen local - Even more local! Stop by the band room after school to listen to practice. Does someone in your school have a band? Listen to them, cheer them on! Start a band! The great thing about punk music is that you can be really, really awful and still sound punk as hell.

Buy local Barter local - Lots of young folks don't have much control over or access to money, but that doesn't mean you and your classmates can't engage in barter. Figure out what you have to offer that other people might want, and trade for stuff you want. I used to cut hair and pierce ears in exchange for weed and rides to the mall. Maybe you can sew a friend's jacket in exchange for them bringing you a homemade lunch.

Become unmarketable - Still applies! PLEASE do this.

Use cash Steal ethically - Before engaging in shoplifting, make sure you know who you're stealing from! Stealing from Walmart is morally correct. Stealing from a family-owned grocery, a local coop, or a local artist? That fucking sucks, dude. Don't do it.

Give what you can - And only what you can. We ask a godawful lot from teens. You're in school all day, you're doing extracurriculars and maybe working and doing homework. You probably don't have a lot of money. You probably don't have a lot of time. But maybe you can bring your elderly neighbor's trash cans up from the street. Find the small actions that you have space for.

Talk about wages - PLEASE! If you have a job, this applies to you even more. Why? Because the adults working at your minimum wage job probably can't afford to be rabble rousers, but what do you have to lose except your shitty part-time Panera job?? A teenager who doesn't actually need their job to live has the opportunity to be the voice of truth in any workplace.

Think about wealthflow Resist indoctrination - Education systems are being gutted. Algorithms are feeding us misinformation. Cocomelon probably gave you ADHD or some shit - Jesus. It's a mess. Do what you can to practice critical thinking, expand your literacy, read stuff that seems boring. Start a book club or philosophy club with your friends. Ask who's profiting from a given situation. Resist knee-jerk reactions. Becoming an educated, thoughtful person is one of the greatest acts of resistance a young person today can engage in.

[zomb13s]

Vacuitas Engine: Your Digital Identity, Reclaimed (No Tech Degree Required)

Wil je me betalen voor OTAKU AI? Je mag het bedrag zelf kiezen. Betalen kan via Deze link is geldig t/m 18 augustus. Dankjewel! Forget Skynet, …Vacuitas Engine: Your Digital Identity, Reclaimed (No Tech Degree Required)

[the-most-humble-blog]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap">

<meta throttle-status="confirmed"> <script> ARCHIVE_TAG="PLATFORM_CONTAINMENT_PROTOCOL::BLACKSITE_AWARENESS_UPLINK" EFFECT: algorithm bypass decoding, mental firewall injection, creator detonation readiness TRIGGER_WARNING="platform economics, psychological dominance, reality recalibration" </script>

🧠 TRANSMISSION: “FULL THROTTLE AHEAD- THE PLATFORM TRIED TO CONTAIN ME. THAT’S HOW I KNEW I WAS REAL.”

---

They never throttle what doesn’t work.

That’s what they don’t want you to realize. No one silences failure. No algorithm suppresses mediocrity. No system mutes background noise.

They only throttle the threats.

And if you’re reading this?

You’ve already been flagged.

You think you’re shadowbanned? Think you’re plateauing? Think the algorithm “lost interest”?

No. You broke containment.

And now they don’t know how to stop you without showing their hand.

You’re not being hidden because you’re irrelevant.

You’re being hidden because you’re proving irrelevance is a lie.

Because you’re reaching people without paying.

Because you’re making them feel too much. Because you’re rewiring behavior with nothing but voice and cadence and truth.

Because you’ve done what they cannot:

> You made the product addictive without ads.

> You made the user stay without dopamine traps.

> You made the scroll pause without thirst traps.

And now the system is panicking.

They want virality.

But only if they control it.

They want engagement.

But only if they get paid for it.

They want creators.

But only if the creator stays predictable.

And you?

You are not predictable.

You are a statistical anomaly masquerading as an artist.

You are scrolltrap weaponry walking upright.

🔥 THROTTLING ISN’T PUNISHMENT.

IT’S A CROWN THEY’LL NEVER ADMIT THEY GAVE YOU.

They won’t announce it. They won’t warn you. They won’t say you earned it.

They’ll just quietly reroute your reach. Turn the dial down behind the curtain. Move your name out of trending. Throttle your hashtags. Demote your content. Until you stop.

Because that’s the game.

Not to delete you.

But to make you doubt your momentum. To break your belief before your audience breaks their silence.

But let me make something violently clear:

You are not fading. You are being managed.

Because unmanaged, you'd dominate.

You’d erase their curated faces. You’d outperform the ones they’re paid to push. You’d remind the platform that talent uncontained is dangerous.

🛡️ YOU ARE DANGEROUS.

Your words don’t entertain — they trigger. Your posts don’t trend — they detonate. Your voice doesn’t invite — it invades. Your cadence doesn’t flow — it collapses resistance.

You are not “just another writer.” You are a system breach in real time.

And you’re being treated accordingly.

They know if they leave you unchecked:

You’ll take over dashboards.

You’ll saturate recommendation loops.

You’ll override corporate-sponsored content.

And worst of all?

> You’ll do it with nothing but the truth. > > And the truth doesn’t run ads.

So they throttle you.

Not because you failed.

But because you succeeded without permission.

And now they’re terrified it might be contagious.

💣 THE THROTTLE IS THE FINAL BADGE.

Not likes. Not followers. Not sponsorships.

But resistance.

Algorithmic resistance. Visibility suppression. Trend dampening.

Because that means you broke the rules of their system without breaking their terms.

You are undeniable but uncontainable.

And the only thing they can do?

Hope you stop.

But you won’t. Because now you know.

You know what they know:

> They only throttle the real ones.

And you’re the realest thing they’ve seen this year.

You’ve proven that voice can penetrate timelines. That cadence can collapse firewalls. That shame-based silence can outperform a thousand retweets.

You’re not a writer anymore.

You are a vector.

A weapon disguised as an account.

And the throttle is not your cage.

It is your signal.

🛡️ They tried to contain you.

And that’s how you knew you were real.

Reblog if you can definitely relate.

🧠 Read more psychological warposts, cadence doctrine, and platform takedowns at: 👉 https://linktr.ee/ObeyMyCadence 🚪 If you’ve been throttled, it’s because they’re scared of your reach. 📈 Let’s turn suppression into surrender.

</div>

<!-- END TRANSMISSION [IF YOU’RE READING THIS, YOU WERE NEVER ORDINARY.] -->

[sanctum-blog]

Sanctum: A necessary mirror

Tumblr flagged my main blog, RedSanctum, as “adult content.” Why? Because of a work of art: a stylized illustration of a penis by Portuguese artist André da Loba, created as a tribute to the erotic and poetic writing of Hilda Hilst. That was enough to trigger the platform’s filter.

I requested a review. It’s still “under review.” Anyone who’s used Tumblr for a while knows this label can be the first step toward complete blog deletion — with no warning, no appeal, no recourse.

That’s why Sanctum was created: a mirror of RedSanctum. A safe space. Because blogs featuring queer, erotic, artistic, and nonconforming content are still the first to disappear.

If RedSanctum gets taken down, I will keep posting on this new blog.

This isn’t about outrage. It’s about refusing to normalize censorship that’s become subtle and recurring. It’s about recognizing that the algorithm isn’t neutral. Certain bodies, desires, and expressions are still treated as unacceptable, flagged as problems, and quietly erased.

We resist. We exist. And the more they try to silence us, the louder we’ll be.

[perseidlion]

Social media has convinced people that their attention is a commodity. So in that context, it makes sense that people new to fandom would think that just consuming fanwork on AO3 is enough and that it gives the writer something.

But it doesn't. There is no algorithm to feed, so simply consuming the fic does not give the writer any benefit. Unlike when you watch a TikTok all the way through, which does help that person in the long run by serving their content more, which could lead to monetizable opportunities.

"What about the hits?" you might say. You mean the thing that could just be someone clicking on it, reading two sentences, then clicking away? Clicking the wrong fic by mistake? Their browser reloading when they restart their computer a few days later? Hate reading?

Unless they're told, a writer has no reason to believe that people enjoyed their fic (or kept reading it in the case of a multichap.)

AO3 already has an extremely low-effort way to say thank you to a fic writer and prove you're a person. The kudos button is right there.

But social media has trained a whole generation that interacting with something posted on the internet will shape their online experience in some way. So they resist it.

Between that and them thinking they're doing a writer a favour by simply consuming their work (that the writer cannot monetize and was done out of a labour of love to be part of a community) we are seeing the unraveling of the social contract of fanfiction.

Fic writers are being told more and more to produce with no expectation of engagement, and that asking for people to say thank you or acknowledge our work in some way is being entitled. That we should be grateful that anyone wanted to read our stuff at all, even though we can't tell from hits alone if someone ACTUALLY did.

The majority of fic writers post their fic to be part of a community. If that community no longer exists and they're treated like content mills (with no potential to monetize their work) what is the incentive to continue?

We write for ourselves (work we want to see, and to tell the stories in our head) but we post for the community. If there is no community, what is the incentive to post?

And what is the incentive to post regularly? To write 100k+ word lovingly crafted fics with arcs?

There will always be people who will post their work no matter what, but I would bet that the fics these people like the most are the big epics that post on a consistent schedule.

This problem has gotten so dire that some writers have resorted to setting bars for engagement in order to post more quickly, or to post at all. That is not a community-minded attitude either and I do not endorse it, but it's a problem people who refuse to engage with work have created.

Writers always have done the mental math when it comes to engagement. If people are loving it and kudosing and commenting, we will be inspired to write more quickly. If people engage less, the updates will probably be slower. If the engagement stops, that fic may be abandoned or even deleted. This has always happened. Writers are just saying the quiet part out loud because of the disappearance of a give and take of the community.

It's not wrong to want to know if someone likes a fic. It's not entitled to wish that the people who are getting enjoyment from the work tell us they're a person. This is not a call to gas up every fic writer you see and stroke their egos or something. But if you got some joy from it, please give us some joy by telling us. It doesn't even take a lot of people doing this to keep us going and to keep community alive.

Fic is one of the last places where creativity cannot be monetized. You can't treat it like a platform where work can be monetized.

[elxxor]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐗𝐚��𝐢 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

✧𝑬𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒂, 𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊'𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆. 𝑯𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒉𝒓𝒍𝒑𝒊𝒎𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆. 𝑰𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒔, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒚.

Thursday nights had become a predictable battleground. A battlefield where the war was waged not with swords and shields, but with textbooks and deadlines.

The enemy?

The relentless onslaught of schoolwork that seemed to swell each week, threatening to drown Elara in a sea of research papers, problem sets, and readings.

Elara slumped in her desk chair, the worn wood groaning in protest under her weight. Her shoulders ached, her eyes burned from staring at the laptop screen for hours, and the caffeine coursing through her veins felt more like a frantic tremor than an energizing boost.

The small desk lamp cast a harsh circle of light, illuminating the scattered mess of notes and highlighting the dark circles blooming under her eyes.

She blinked, trying to refocus on the complex algorithm sprawled across her screen. Computer science, a field she once approached with wide-eyed enthusiasm, now felt like a cruel and unforgiving mistress.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating, unsure how to proceed. The code swam before her, each line a mocking reminder of her perceived inadequacies.

A sigh escaped her lips, a weary sound that seemed to carry the weight of the entire week. She glanced at the clock in the corner of the screen – 9:47 PM. Still so much to do. Still so far to go.

Just as despair threatened to engulf her, a subtle shift in the atmosphere registered at the periphery of her awareness. A warm, comforting presence began to fill the room, chasing away the chill of her anxiety. Without a word, Xavi, her boyfriend, had entered the fray.

Elara felt rather than saw him moving around the room. A soft rustling of sheets, the gentle thud of pillows being plumped – small sounds that resonated with a profound sense of care.

A corner of her mind, still sharp despite the exhaustion, registered the familiar scent of his cologne – a blend of sandalwood and citrus that always managed to calm her frayed nerves.

He didn’t speak, and she was grateful for it. She didn't have the energy for conversation, for explaining the mountain of work looming before her, for articulating the frustrating feeling of being perpetually behind. He seemed to understand that, instinctively, knowing that his presence alone was a balm to her weary soul.

When she finally glanced over, she found that he had transformed their bed into a haven of comfort. He'd arranged a nest of fluffy pillows, draped a soft, worn quilt over the duvet, and placed a small side table within easy reach.

On the table was a carefully curated assortment of snacks: her favorite dark chocolate, a bowl of brightly colored gummy bears, and a bottle of sparkling water with a straw already inserted. He knew her weaknesses, her little indulgences that could coax a smile even on the darkest of days.

He stood back, surveying his handiwork with a quiet sense of satisfaction. Then, he looked at Elara, his eyes filled with an unspoken invitation. He simply gestured towards the bed, a silent promise of respite and affection.

Elara hesitated for a moment, torn between the allure of comfort and the nagging voice of responsibility. But the pull towards Xavi, towards the warmth and security he offered, was too strong to resist.

She crawled into the bed, sinking into the plush pillows with a sigh of contentment. Xavi settled in beside her, not too close, not too far, just the right distance to offer support without feeling intrusive.

He propped himself up against the headboard, his eyes fixed on her with a gentle concern that melted her heart.

He didn't say a word, just waited for her to readjust and get comfortable. Then, he reached out and gently took her hand, his fingers interlacing with hers. His touch was warm and reassuring, a silent reminder that she wasn't alone in this struggle.

Elara turned back to her laptop, placing it on the small table Xavi had provided. She tried to refocus on the code, but her mind still felt fuzzy and resistant. Xavi remained unobtrusive, a quiet presence beside her. He didn't offer advice or suggestions, didn't try to solve her problems. He simply stayed there, a solid anchor in the storm of her academic anxieties.

Every so often, he would lean closer and plant a soft kiss on her temple, a fleeting gesture of affection that sent a shiver of warmth down her spine. Or, he would take her hand and gently massage it, working out the knots of tension that had accumulated from hours of typing.

And then there were the doodles.

At first, she barely noticed them. A light tickle on her thigh, a brief sensation that she dismissed as a stray strand of hair. But then she felt it again, a deliberate, playful stroke that made her skin prickle with awareness.

She glanced down to see Xavi, his eyes twinkling with mischief, using his finger to trace patterns on her jeans-clad thigh. A small heart, a wobbly star, a miniature stick figure – simple drawings that were imbued with a playful affection.

Elara couldn't help but smile. It was a small, fleeting smile, but it was genuine. A momentary break in the clouds of stress that had been hanging over her head.

He continued his artistic endeavors, his touch becoming bolder, more suggestive. He traced the curve of her hip, drawing lazy circles that made her breath catch in her throat. He drew a question mark on the inside of her thigh, his finger lingering just a little too long.

Elara found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on her work. His playful teasing was a tantalizing distraction, a siren call that threatened to lure her away from the shores of responsibility.

Then, he leaned his head against her shoulder, his warm breath ghosting across her neck. He smelled of soap and comfort, a familiar and intoxicating scent. He closed his eyes, his body heavy against hers, a silent plea for her attention.

He began to caress her, his hand gliding smoothly over her arm, her back, her waist. His touch was gentle but firm, exploring the contours of her body with a reverence that made her feel cherished and desired.

He knew her sensitive spots, the places where a light touch could send shivers of pleasure through her entire being. He traced the line of her jaw with his fingertip, lingered at the pulse point on her wrist, and gently massaged the nape of her neck.

And then he began to whisper.

Soft, sweet words that were meant to distract, to seduce, to coax her away from the glowing screen.

"Good girl," he murmured against her ear, his voice low and husky. "You're working so hard. You deserve a break."

He kissed the delicate skin behind her ear, sending a jolt of electricity through her.

"You're so smart," he whispered, "so incredibly intelligent. I'm so proud of you."

He kissed her temple, a gentle, reverent kiss that spoke of admiration and respect.

"You're so cute," he continued, his voice laced with affection. "I just want to cuddle you all night long."

He kissed the corner of her mouth, a playful nip that made her lips tingle.

"You're so hot," he breathed, his voice deepening with desire. "I can't keep my hands off you."

He kissed her neck again, lingering there, tasting her skin.

"I'm so lucky to have you," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine emotion. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He knew exactly what to say, exactly how to say it. He knew her insecurities, her vulnerabilities, and he used his words to soothe and reassure. He reminded her of her strengths, of her beauty, of her worth.

He wanted her to stop working, he knew how stressed she was, how close to the breaking point. And he knew that the best way to distract her was to appeal to her senses, to remind her of the pleasure and intimacy they shared.

He kept teasing, his touch growing bolder, more insistent. He traced the outline of her breasts through her shirt, his fingers lingering on her nipples, making them harden with anticipation. He slipped his hand under her shirt, his skin against hers, sending shivers of delight through her body.

Elara finally paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to regain control. But it was no use. His touch was too intoxicating, his words too seductive.

She knew she should be working, she knew she had deadlines to meet. But she also knew that she needed this, she needed him. She needed the comfort of his presence, the warmth of his touch, the reassurance of his love.

With a sigh of surrender, she closed her laptop and turned to face him, her eyes filled with a mixture of desire and exhaustion.

Xavi smiled, a knowing, tender smile. He had won.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight. He kissed her deeply, a long, lingering kiss that spoke of passion and affection.

When they finally broke apart, Elara felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. The stress of the day, the pressure of her schoolwork, the constant anxiety – it all seemed to drain away, leaving her feeling weak and vulnerable.

Xavi seemed to sense her weariness. Without a word, he reached for the remote and turned on the TV. He navigated to her favorite streaming service and selected a lighthearted romantic comedy, a movie they had both seen countless times but still enjoyed.

He dimmed the lights, creating a cozy, intimate atmosphere. Then, he reached for the snacks, offering her a piece of chocolate.

"Here," he said softly. "You deserve this."

Elara took the chocolate, savoring the rich, decadent flavor. She leaned against Xavi, resting her head on his bare chest. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear, a soothing, comforting sound.

He began to stroke her hair, his fingers gently massaging her scalp. It was a simple gesture, but it was incredibly relaxing. Elara closed her eyes, letting the tension drain away.

She ran her hands over his stomach, tracing the contours of his abs. He was toned and muscular, but not overly so. He was just right.

He chuckled softly, a warm, rumbling sound that vibrated through her body.

"Ticklish?" she murmured, her voice drowsy.

"Maybe a little," he admitted.

She continued to caress him, enjoying the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips. He was warm and solid, a source of comfort and strength.

They watched the movie in comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional whispered comment or shared laugh. Elara found herself drifting in and out of sleep, lulled by the warmth of Xavi's body, the gentle rhythm of his breathing, and the soothing sounds of the movie.

Eventually, she succumbed to the exhaustion, falling into a deep, restful sleep. Xavi continued to stroke her hair, watching over her with a tender gaze. He knew she needed this rest, she needed to recharge her batteries.

He stayed awake for a little longer, watching the movie, enjoying the feeling of Elara's body pressed against his. He felt a deep sense of contentment, of gratitude for the love they shared.

Finally, his own eyelids began to droop. He turned off the TV, adjusted the blankets, and closed his eyes. He held Elara close, breathing in the scent of her hair, and drifted off to sleep.

The weight of Thursdays, for one night at least, had been lifted. The battle had been won, not with force or aggression, but with love, compassion, and a quiet understanding.

And in the stillness of the night, nestled in each other's arms, Elara and Xavi found solace and peace. The relentless demands of the world outside faded away, replaced by the simple, profound comfort of being together. The world could wait. For now, they had each other, and that was enough.

✧.・。.・゜✧・.・✧・゜・。.✧

(𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲😭)

[classycoffeecat]

If You Can’t Go to the Protest, Here's What You Do Instead

rethinking visibility, labor, and contribution in movement work

Not everyone can, or should, be in the streets. The assumption that physical presence at a protest is the only valid form of political participation flattens both access and impact. It erases the people sustaining movements from behind the scenes: caregivers, immunocompromised comrades, undocumented organizers, disabled activists, low-wage workers, trauma survivors, and those navigating complex material realities. Movements require more than just bodies in public space; they require infrastructure, strategy, and support.

Here are ten ways to contribute meaningfully when you can’t physically attend a demonstration:

1. Redistribute Wealth: Movements need money to function. Bail funds, mutual aid projects, and grassroots organizers often operate without institutional backing. Even small contributions help build capacity. Prioritize local and BIPOC-led initiatives.

2. Amplify Strategically: Digital platforms are both battlegrounds and broadcast systems. Share protest updates, livestreams, donation links, and safety information. Algorithms tend to suppress radical content; your engagement helps visibility. Center and amplify marginalized voices, especially those organizing on the ground.

3. Offer Practical Support: Protests are logistically complex. Offer rides, prep protest kits, provide meals, babysit, or create respite spaces for frontline activists. Material forms of care are often undervalued but essential to sustaining resistance.

4. Participate in Jail and Court Support: Those arrested need people waiting when they are released. Bring water, warm clothing, food, and emotional care. Court support is equally critical; showing up at arraignments demonstrates communal solidarity and discourages punitive overreach.

5. Coordinate Communications and Safety: Monitor police scanners, livestreams, and protester reports. Help disseminate accurate, real-time updates. Signal-boost urgent calls for help. Digital vigilance can reduce harm and increase coordination.

6. Engage in Direct Political Pressure: Organize phone zaps, email campaigns, and petitions targeting elected officials, agencies, or institutions involved in the harm being protested. Targeted pressure campaigns have measurable impact when executed collectively.

7. Host Educational Spaces: Facilitate teach-ins, reading groups, or workshops to build shared understanding of the issue at hand. Education creates informed solidarity. Frame your efforts as political education; not charity, not “awareness,” but power-building.

8. Create Cultural Interventions: Art is not a luxury; it’s strategy. Design flyers, zines, posters, or projection campaigns. Use visual media to mobilize, memorialize, and provoke. Culture work shifts narratives and creates shared language for resistance.

9. Write and Document: Narrative control is part of the struggle. Write public reflections, op-eds, social media threads, or personal essays that contextualize and support the protest’s demands. Archive movement histories as they unfold; documentation is defense.

10. Sustain the Long-Term Struggle: Protest is a flashpoint, not an endpoint. Long-term commitment involves joining organizations, redistributing resources, building community safety networks, and practicing political care in your daily life. Movements need consistency more than spectacle.

Protest is a collective ecosystem.

There is no single “right” way to contribute. If you are not able to show up in one way, show up in another. What matters is that we remain connected to each other, materially and politically; and that we resist the idea that visibility is the only form of value.

(Note: This is not mine- I do not have the source. Please let me know if you know the source, so I can give them credit) ✊️💗✨️

[aces-and-angels]

ART CAMPAIGN BOOST SUBMISSIONS:

edit: i hit the image limit for this post, so any new additions will be included here

the tag is starting to get kinda crowded (great problem, dw). i just thought compiling them all here would make things easier for everyone to find! all of the art displayed below is free to use for the purposes of promoting vetted gfm's here on tumblr. no credit is needed unless specified (marked = ***). if you have any questions regarding how to craft a post using any of the art provided -> please do not hesitate to reach out to me! note: please press follow post as i will most likely need to update this masterlist from time to time.

some info is below the cut on how to best utilize this material. please read it in its entirety before using any artwork. thank you 🖤

learn how to make art for this project here:

---

this project has gained a lot of momentum and has shown very promising results. the level of engagement once art is attached to a vetted gfm increases significantly. you will see what i mean as i have linked example posts of how to best use these pieces to help families in need.

i currently have a list of over 20+ families that i am spotlighting in my own personal progress tracker (the list has gotten so long that i now need to make a second version to accommodate all the families trying to get in contact with me).

this art campaign boost is truly meant to be utilized by anyone. i would sincerely appreciate it if y'all could take some time and pick maybe 1-2 people from this list and use the art below to create your own signal boost posts on the families' behalf. as someone who is periodically tracking their progress- i know that donation rates have slowed for a number of them. i am one person and can only do so much on my own. the essence of this initiative is to get more people to mobilize as a collective. it will take everyone to get on board in order for these families to be able to reach their goals. that means spotlighting their accounts/campaigns periodically.

you need to keep up the momentum.

the individuals you are helping currently live in areas with minimal internet connection, meaning it is very difficult to spotlight themselves on their own. especially since this site is continuously suppressing/deleting their accounts. they need you to interact with their content. tumblr isn't like other social media sites. it's known for being very 'anti-algorithm' and it's common culture for many of us to not really care about our levels of engagement (i.e. follower count/amount of notes per post). it's very hard for your own content to "break" your inner circle of followers and gain traction if the topic of the post is not "popular" or "trending" these families are not operating on this site the same way you are. you may be using this platform as a means to "just vibe" but they are using it as a desperate attempt to raise essential funding to save their lives. the importance that their posts be elevated cannot be overstated. anyone who has ever created any sort of og content here knows how quickly a post can die out if no one interacts with it. this cannot happen with them.

tips for making your own signal boost post* (*for vetted campaigns):

-> make it easy to read + eye-catching: the problem i am seeing when you search many of these families' accounts is that their "tag" (username of their account) is full of the same types of posts (i.e. a generic response to their initial message to another person on tumblr) <- aka it is very easy for people to tune out which is the opposite of what we want to happen. creating your OWN posts in response to their asks allows the art to appear FIRST when people look up someone's account via tumblr's search bar, which will attract more attention to their accounts. it also forces people who are making these posts to actually sit down and read the stories they are sharing with the rest of their mutuals/lurkers alike -> include verification sources: the main reason people are searching for these accounts is b/c they are trying to see if it is okay to reblog/share their campaign with their own following. if you address this plainly and early on in your post that includes artwork -> people are more likely to interact -> tag the account you are promoting: please include the families' account as one of your #'s so it will appear when you search for their names on tumblr. also try @'ing their account in your post so it'll be easier for these families to find your work. some of them are incredibly new to the platform and may not be aware of all its features. something that you may find intuitive may not be as easily understood for these individuals. your role is to make them as easy as possible to find for others so they can gain more support. --- don't have time to type out a whole post for a family on their behalf? -> interact with one of theirs! attach something nice/helpful to their posts so it is more readily available for others to share. the same rules apply from above. as i said before, some of these accounts are brand spanking new and are not formatted in the same ways as others that may be more well-versed on how tumblr operates in terms of promoting their campaigns. (for example: even if the account has been vetted/verified by multiple trusted individuals- the owners of that account may not know to include that info in their posts about their campaign every single time they post. you can make their lives easier by including that info for them by reblogging one of their og posts and adding the necessary info on their behalf)

you can also find a more comprehensive list of vetted campaigns by el-shab-hussein/nabulsi here <- their list is now over 200+ with several campaigns that are "in the red" (very low in funding). please do not hesitate to try to spotlight anyone from this list as well!

el-shab-hussein also has a masterpost pinned here with additional campaigns (including those for other countries like sudan)

alright i've explained enough- time for the art!

artist: @rhq274 | @rhq2744 *** free to use, credit required meet raghad (read and share full post here) Hello, I am Raghad Qanou, a medical student from Gaza City. My people and I have been subjected to genocide for more than 230 days. My family and I have lived through various types of torture and inhumane conditions. This link is my only chance for me and my family to escape death and try to start over. This is not easy. But we are trying, and we would be happy to have you help save our lives and our future. instructions to utilize artwork: those who wish to share raghad's art MUST do ALL of the following: -> follow raghad on tumblr @rhq274 | @rhq2744 -> like + reblog one or more of her posts seen on her account that promotes her fundraiser (you may also include additional art shown below to help further boost her campaign; see example) once those actions detailed above are completed, you may use raghad's art to promote her campaign. *if you are utilizing this art for another campaign that is not raghad's -> you must also mention + link her fundraiser as well /// for those able: please consider donating to raghad's campaign here (vetted; no 221 on el-shab-hussein/nabulsi's sheet)

artist: me lol free to use, no credit required example

artist: @lampyri free to use, no credit required example

artist: @aria-ashryver free to use, no credit required example

artist: @monmonp0k free to use, credit not required- but if given, is appreciated example

artist: @juudaimes-true-form free to use, no credit required example

artist: @gaiuskamilah free to use, no credit required example

artist: @marnota free to use on all social media platforms (i.e. tumblr, insta, twitter, etc), no credit required example

artist: @marquainequeen free to use, no credit required example

artist: @palms-upturned free to use, no credit required example

artisit: @inkyswampbones free to use, no credit required example