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evilminji · 1 year ago

Text

"DO BETTER!" Says Now Televised Fanboy

He, Dash Baxter is a Phan-Stan!! It's kinda his thing. See, he's a fancy ass talk show host now. Married Paulie, moved out of Amity, actually DID something with his life. His parents? Did not approve. Long n short of it? He got kicked out.

Paulie's parents were PISSED.

Retaliated by giving him all the help he needed getting EVERY scholarship he qualified for. He went to a really nice college. Missed his girlfriend like mad. But she was off in Metropolis, terrifying weaker men. Conquering the fashion scene.

And SOMEHOW? Thanks to that long talk he had with Phantom (*incoherent fanboy gibbering noises* SO COOL!) he's worked to be... more of a LEADER, you know? Less of an asshole. Cause he's popular. People copy him. He can't be an asshole.

So, somehow, when he's punching out some try-hard that thinks he's hot shit for bullying a Nerd? He and the nerd get talking, right? Cause the guy got his glasses completely fucked up. And it's what Phantom would do.

But GET THIS? Guy's never HEARD of Phantom! Is super curious, cause he runs a small time Hero's show on the web. And, Dude? Is it your LUCKY DAY! Cause you just met THE number 1 fan of Phantom, hands down!! He makes his VERY spirited case, about why Phantom is THE best Hero to ever have lived. And this guy?

Entranced.

In AWE.

Just straight up BEGS him to join his show. Cause apparently? He was BORN for it. Which? Yeah. He HAS been giving speechs to the team for YEARS now. And Talking at fan meet ups. Leading fan meet ups. Hosting parties... actually, now that he thinks about it? He DOES do a lot of public speaking? Huh.

But still, he's about to say "no", when?

Dude mentions? He'll get to talk about Phantom.

SOLD!

It. Blows. Up. Absolutely EVERYONE is in love with his pretty face, hot bod, and STRONG opinions. But they ALSO have no idea who Phantom is! Paulie! This is CRIMINAL! Horrifying! What is going ON!?

Some bullshit information black out, apparently. At least according to her... friendly Nemesis? The Goth Dweeb. Who's engaged, apparently? So good for her. Unsurprisingly, it's too the OTHER Dweebs, but still. Bout time she started planning to drag them to a court house. She's the only one with any spine in that group! If she waited for THEM to propose?

Not even as Ghosts, man.

They'd get distracted by shiny nerd shit and whimp out.

Still... a world where NO ONE knows how Awesome, Phantom is? Not on HIS watch!

So he works it in. To every segment. It becomes "his thing". Oh? Super man saved a kitten from a tree? Cute. Well PHANTOM saved a bus full of Ghost Puppies from a shady, rouge, Goverment agency. Do BETTER, Superman!

The Flash, who is a cheap knock-off and stole his name, took down an Ice Villian? Adorable! PHANTOM stopped a Rouge WINTER SPIRIT with the help of YETI WARRIORS then assisted in giving FREE medical care for anyone who needed it! Here's a picture of him making GHOST ICE SNOWMEN for small children! Do BETTER, Knock-off!

What's THAT you say? Wonder Woman fought a GOD in down town paris?

Excellent work Wonder Woman. Flawless as always. But YOU, god-boy, are a disappointment! All that power! And WHAT do you use it for? Are you even supposed to BE here?? PHANTOM uses his power to HELP people! Is awesome and knows TONS of better gods! You're just salty you didn't make the cut!

DO BETTER!

And obviously? No one believes him. There's no record of this "Phantom" guy. The pictures look fantastical and vaguely glitchy/glowy. Not quite right. They GOTTA be photo shopped. Manipulated somehow. But? As a shtick? A fake "perfect Superhero" is kinda funny and unique.

And it's one hell of Fake Hero!

A Dead Champion? Who fights gods and monsters? Rouge agencies? Sassy and tragic? With a mysterious past? Pretty cool! There's even an Offical Comic from some guy that went to the same high-school as Baxter!

Of course, as Baxter get more and more popular? The "meme" hero, Phantom, get more well known? People get more interested in where Dash grew up. You know, just a bored Google. Maybe see if the hero was based off a local legend or something. But... huh...

The Town website?

Weirdly? Sanitized.

Like... like aggressively sanitized. All smooth edges and no details. Very "move along, citizen". Ha ha... it's part of the joke right? They get it! They'll just look up local restaurants or som-....

Wait...

Hey, guuuuys?

Are you finding ANYTHING?

And! Nothing. And I do mean NOTHING! Triggers the "oh? Secrets???" Instincts of a Hacker, like finding a hard blank wall of "KEEP OUT". Especially when it's somewhere it rightfully shouldn't BE.

All it would take? Is ONE person, of decent skills and an account on Certain Forums, getting bored enough to Google the Dude On The TV(TM)? For the GIW's lil walls to come crashing down. Because yeah, you can stop ONE hacker. Even two. Probably five or six.

But how about thousands?

Hundreds of thousands?

From every time zone. Competing. Just to see what you HAVE and don't want them to see. Maybe they do something with it, maybe they don't. But fuck it, you're being RUDE and now they're CURIOUS. And THEN? Oh. Oh holy shit.

Not a meme.

Very real.

Not a joke.

The walls come crumbling down, down, down. Ripped apart by hundreds of hands. Emails sent to every sort of agency. The JLU line inundated with emergency tips. Not a joke. Not A Joke. Holy Shit, IT WASN'T A JOKE!

Phantom is REAL!

And there, on TV, stands the Man. The signal FINALLY breaching containment. Fighting off the invading God of the week. Built like statue, hair like an aurora borealis of white fire held almost delicately in place by a CROWN of ice, a suit made of void and starlight. Inhuman. Beyond human.

Here to help.

A laugh that crackles like ice and the snap of winter, rolls through the air like coming storms, rich and somehow warm. A smile that bares teeth, yet turns so KIND when he looks upon humanity, as though we are precious and worth fighting for. A living star.

A... a once living star.

And in the center of it all? Wearing his BESPOKE, custome made, Number 1 Phan full body outfit? That's right. Dash Baxter. Ha! You fuckers doubted him! Behold his blorbo and WEEP, ya fuckin casuals! The BESTEST of boys! The FINEST of Heros! Superman? Could NEVER.

And now? The weather!

@babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #dash baxter #dash on tv #Dash Phan AU

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ms-demeanor · 2 years ago

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Why reblog machine-generated art?

When I was ten years old I took a photography class where we developed black and white photos by projecting light on papers bathed in chemicals. If we wanted to change something in the image, we had to go through a gradual, arduous process called dodging and burning.

When I was fifteen years old I used photoshop for the first time, and I remember clicking on the clone tool or the blur tool and feeling like I was cheating.

When I was twenty eight I got my first smartphone. The phone could edit photos. A few taps with my thumb were enough to apply filters and change contrast and even spot correct. I was holding in my hand something more powerful than the huge light machines I'd first used to edit images.

When I was thirty six, just a few weeks ago, I took a photo class that used Lightroom Classic and again, it felt like cheating. It made me really understand how much the color profiles of popular web images I'd been seeing for years had been pumped and tweaked and layered with local edits to make something that, to my eyes, didn't much resemble photography. To me, photography is light on paper. It's what you capture in the lens. It's not automatic skin smoothing and a local filter to boost the sky. This reminded me a lot more of the photomanipulations my friend used to make on deviantart; layered things with unnatural colors that put wings on buildings or turned an eye into a swimming pool. It didn't remake the images to that extent, obviously, but it tipped into the uncanny valley. More real than real, more saturated more sharp and more present than the actual world my lens saw. And that was before I found the AI assisted filters and the tool that would identify the whole sky for you, picking pieces of it out from between leaves.

You know, it's funny, when people talk about artists who might lose their jobs to AI they don't talk about the people who have already had to move on from their photo editing work because of technology. You used to be able to get paid for basic photo manipulation, you know? If you were quick with a lasso or skilled with masks you could get a pretty decent chunk of change by pulling subjects out of backgrounds for family holiday cards or isolating the pies on the menu for a mom and pop. Not a lot, but enough to help. But, of course, you can just do that on your phone now. There's no need to pay a human for it, even if they might do a better job or be more considerate toward the aesthetic of an image.

And they certainly don't talk about all the development labs that went away, or the way that you could have trained to be a studio photographer if you wanted to take good photos of your family to hang on the walls and that digital photography allowed in a parade of amateurs who can make dozens of iterations of the same bad photo until they hit on a good one by sheer volume and luck; if you want to be a good photographer everyone can do that why didn't you train for it and spend a long time taking photos on film and being okay with bad photography don't you know that digital photography drove thousands of people out of their jobs.

My dad told me that he plays with AI the other day. He hosts a movie podcast and he puts up thumbnails for the downloads. In the past, he'd just take a screengrab from the film. Now he tells the Bing AI to make him little vignettes. A cowboy running away from a rhino, a dragon arm-wrestling a teddy bear. That kind of thing. Usually based on a joke that was made on the show, or about the subject of the film and an interest of the guest.

People talk about "well AI art doesn't allow people to create things, people were already able to create things, if they wanted to create things they should learn to create things." Not everyone wants to make good art that's creative. Even fewer people want to put the effort into making bad art for something that they aren't passionate about. Some people want filler to go on the cover of their youtube video. My dad isn't going to learn to draw, and as the person who he used to ask to photoshop him as Ant-Man because he certainly couldn't pay anyone for that kind of thing, I think this is a great use case for AI art. This senior citizen isn't going to start cartooning and at two recordings a week with a one-day editing turnaround he doesn't even really have the time for something like a Fiverr commission. This is a great use of AI art, actually.

I also know an artist who is going Hog Fucking Wild creating AI art of their blorbos. They're genuinely an incredibly talented artist who happens to want to see their niche interest represented visually without having to draw it all themself. They're posting the funny and good results to a small circle of mutuals on socials with clear information about the source of the images; they aren't trying to sell any of the images, they're basically using them as inserts for custom memes. Who is harmed by this person saying "i would like to see my blorbo lasciviously eating an ice cream cone in the is this a pigeon meme"?

The way I use machine-generated art, as an artist, is to proof things. Can I get an explosion to look like this. What would a wall of dead computer monitors look like. Would a ballerina leaping over the grand canyon look cool? Sometimes I use AI art to generate copyright free objects that I can snip for a collage. A lot of the time I use it to generate ideas. I start naming random things and seeing what it shows me and I start getting inspired. I can ask CrAIon for pose reference, I can ask it to show me the interior of spaces from a specific angle.

I profoundly dislike the antipathy that tumblr has for AI art. I understand if people don't want their art used in training pools. I understand if people don't want AI trained on their art to mimic their style. You should absolutely use those tools that poison datasets if you don't want your art included in AI training. I think that's an incredibly appropriate action to take as an artist who doesn't want AI learning from your work.

However I'm pretty fucking aggressively opposed to copyright and most of the "solid" arguments against AI art come down to "the AIs viewed and learned from people's copyrighted artwork and therefore AI is theft rather than fair use" and that's a losing argument for me. In. Like. A lot of ways. Primarily because it is saying that not only is copying someone's art theft, it is saying that looking at and learning from someone's art can be defined as theft rather than fair use.

Also because it's just patently untrue.

But that doesn't really answer your question. Why reblog machine-generated art? Because I liked that piece of art.

It was made by a machine that had looked at billions of images - some copyrighted, some not, some new, some old, some interesting, many boring - and guided by a human and I liked it. It was pretty. It communicated something to me. I looked at an image a machine made - an artificial picture, a total construct, something with no intrinsic meaning - and I felt a sense of quiet and loss and nostalgia. I looked at a collection of automatically arranged pixels and tasted salt and smelled the humidity in the air.

I liked it.

I don't think that all AI art is ugly. I don't think that AI art is all soulless (i actually think that 'having soul' is a bizarre descriptor for art and that lacking soul is an equally bizarre criticism). I don't think that AI art is bad for artists. I think the problem that people have with AI art is capitalism and I don't think that's a problem that can really be laid at the feet of people curating an aesthetic AI art blog on tumblr.

Machine learning isn't the fucking problem the problem is massive corporations have been trying hard not to pay artists for as long as massive corporations have existed (isn't that a b-plot in the shape of water? the neighbor who draws ads gets pushed out of his job by product photography? did you know that as recently as ten years ago NewEgg had in-house photographers who would take pictures of the products so users wouldn't have to rely on the manufacturer photos? I want you to guess what killed that job and I'll give you a hint: it wasn't AI)

Am I putting a human out of a job because I reblogged an AI-generated "photo" of curtains waving in the pale green waters of an imaginary beach? Who would have taken this photo of a place that doesn't exist? Who would have painted this hypersurrealistic image? What meaning would it have had if they had painted it or would it have just been for the aesthetic? Would someone have paid for it or would it be like so many of the things that artists on this site have spent dozens of hours on only to get no attention or value for their work?

My worst ratio of hours to notes is an 8-page hand-drawn detailed ink comic about getting assaulted at a concert and the complicated feelings that evoked that took me weeks of daily drawing after work with something like 54 notes after 8 years; should I be offended if something generated from a prompt has more notes than me? What does that actually get the blogger? Clout? I believe someone said that popularity on tumblr gets you one thing and that is yelled at.

What do you get out of this? Are you helping artists right now? You're helping me, and I'm an artist. I've wanted to unload this opinion for a while because I'm sick of the argument that all Real Artists think AI is bullshit. I'm a Real Artist. I've been paid for Real Art. I've been commissioned as an artist.

And I find a hell of a lot of AI art a lot more interesting than I find human-generated corporate art or Thomas Kincaid (but then, I repeat myself).

There are plenty of people who don't like AI art and don't want to interact with it. I am not one of those people. I thought the gay sex cats were funny and looked good and that shitposting is the ideal use of a machine image generation: to make uncopyrightable images to laugh at.

I think that tumblr has decided to take a principled stand against something that most people making the argument don't understand. I think tumblr's loathing for AI has, generally speaking, thrown weight behind a bunch of ideas that I think are going to be incredibly harmful *to artists specifically* in the long run.

Anyway. If you hate AI art and you don't want to interact with people who interact with it, block me.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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How lock-in hurts design

Berliners: Otherland has added a second date (Jan 28) for my book-talk after the first one sold out - book now!

If you've ever read about design, you've probably encountered the idea of "paving the desire path." A "desire path" is an erosion path created by people departing from the official walkway and taking their own route. The story goes that smart campus planners don't fight the desire paths laid down by students; they pave them, formalizing the route that their constituents have voted for with their feet.

Desire paths aren't always great (Wikipedia notes that "desire paths sometimes cut through sensitive habitats and exclusion zones, threatening wildlife and park security"), but in the context of design, a desire path is a way that users communicate with designers, creating a feedback loop between those two groups. The designers make a product, the users use it in ways that surprise the designer, and the designer integrates all that into a new revision of the product.

This method is widely heralded as a means of "co-innovating" between users and companies. Designers who practice the method are lauded for their humility, their willingness to learn from their users. Tech history is strewn with examples of successful paved desire-paths.

Take John Deere. While today the company is notorious for its war on its customers (via its opposition to right to repair), Deere was once a leader in co-innovation, dispatching roving field engineers to visit farms and learn how farmers had modified their tractors. The best of these modifications would then be worked into the next round of tractor designs, in a virtuous cycle:

https://securityledger.com/2019/03/opinion-my-grandfathers-john-deere-would-support-our-right-to-repair/

But this pattern is even more pronounced in the digital world, because it's much easier to update a digital service than it is to update all the tractors in the field, especially if that service is cloud-based, meaning you can modify the back-end everyone is instantly updated. The most celebrated example of this co-creation is Twitter, whose users created a host of its core features.

Retweets, for example, were a user creation. Users who saw something they liked on the service would type "RT" and paste the text and the link into a new tweet composition window. Same for quote-tweets: users copied the URL for a tweet and pasted it in below their own commentary. Twitter designers observed this user innovation and formalized it, turning it into part of Twitter's core feature-set.

Companies are obsessed with discovering digital desire paths. They pay fortunes for analytics software to produce maps of how their users interact with their services, run focus groups, even embed sneaky screen-recording software into their web-pages:

https://www.wired.com/story/the-dark-side-of-replay-sessions-that-record-your-every-move-online/

This relentless surveillance of users is pursued in the name of making things better for them: let us spy on you and we'll figure out where your pain-points and friction are coming from, and remove those. We all win!

But this impulse is a world apart from the humility and respect implied by co-innovation. The constant, nonconsensual observation of users has more to do with controlling users than learning from them.

That is, after all, the ethos of modern technology: the more control a company can exert over its users ,the more value it can transfer from those users to its shareholders. That's the key to enshittification, the ubiquitous platform decay that has degraded virtually all the technology we use, making it worse every day:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

When you are seeking to control users, the desire paths they create are all too frequently a means to wrestling control back from you. Take advertising: every time a service makes its ads more obnoxious and invasive, it creates an incentive for its users to search for "how do I install an ad-blocker":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

More than half of all web-users have installed ad-blockers. It's the largest consumer boycott in human history:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

But zero app users have installed ad-blockers, because reverse-engineering an app requires that you bypass its encryption, triggering liability under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. This law provides for a $500,000 fine and a 5-year prison sentence for "circumvention" of access controls:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/12/youre-holding-it-wrong/#if-dishwashers-were-iphones

Beyond that, modifying an app creates liability under copyright, trademark, patent, trade secrets, noncompete, nondisclosure and so on. It's what Jay Freeman calls "felony contempt of business model":

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

This is why services are so horny to drive you to install their app rather using their websites: they are trying to get you to do something that, given your druthers, you would prefer not to do. They want to force you to exit through the gift shop, you want to carve a desire path straight to the parking lot. Apps let them mobilize the law to literally criminalize those desire paths.

An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a felony to block ads in it (or do anything else that wrestles value back from a company). Apps are web-pages where everything not forbidden is mandatory.

Seen in this light, an app is a way to wage war on desire paths, to abandon the cooperative model for co-innovation in favor of the adversarial model of user control and extraction.

Corporate apologists like to claim that the proliferation of apps proves that users like them. Neoliberal economists love the idea that business as usual represents a "revealed preference." This is an intellectually unserious tautology: "you do this, so you must like it":

https://boingboing.net/2024/01/22/hp-ceo-says-customers-are-a-bad-investment-unless-they-can-be-made-to-buy-companys-drm-ink-cartridges.html

Calling an action where no alternatives are permissible a "preference" or a "choice" is a cheap trick – especially when considered against the "preferences" that reveal themselves when a real choice is possible. Take commercial surveillance: when Apple gave Ios users a choice about being spied on – a one-click opt of of app-based surveillance – 96% of users choice no spying:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2021/05/96-of-us-users-opt-out-of-app-tracking-in-ios-14-5-analytics-find/

But then Apple started spying on those very same users that had opted out of spying by Facebook and other Apple competitors:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Neoclassical economists aren't just obsessed with revealed preferences – they also love to bandy about the idea of "moral hazard": economic arrangements that tempt people to be dishonest. This is typically applied to the public ("consumers" in the contemptuous parlance of econospeak). But apps are pure moral hazard – for corporations. The ability to prohibit desire paths – and literally imprison rivals who help your users thwart those prohibitions – is too tempting for companies to resist.

The fact that the majority of web users block ads reveals a strong preference for not being spied on ("users just want relevant ads" is such an obvious lie that doesn't merit any serious discussion):

https://www.iccl.ie/news/82-of-the-irish-public-wants-big-techs-toxic-algorithms-switched-off/

Giant companies attained their scale by learning from their users, not by thwarting them. The person using technology always knows something about what they need to do and how they want to do it that the designers can never anticipate. This is especially true of people who are unlike those designers – people who live on the other side of the world, or the other side of the economic divide, or whose bodies don't work the way that the designers' bodies do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model

Apps – and other technologies that are locked down so their users can be locked in – are the height of technological arrogance. They embody a belief that users are to be told, not heard. If a user wants to do something that the designer didn't anticipate, that's the user's fault:

https://www.wired.com/2010/06/iphone-4-holding-it-wrong/

Corporate enthusiasm for prohibiting you from reconfiguring the tools you use to suit your needs is a declaration of the end of history. "Sure," John Deere execs say, "we once learned from farmers by observing how they modified their tractors. But today's farmers are so much stupider and we are so much smarter that we have nothing to learn from them anymore."

Spying on your users to control them is a poor substitute asking your users their permission to learn from them. Without technological self-determination, preferences can't be revealed. Without the right to seize the means of computation, the desire paths never emerge, leaving designers in the dark about what users really want.

Our policymakers swear loyalty to "innovation" but when corporations ask for the right to decide who can innovate and how, they fall all over themselves to create laws that let companies punish users for the crime of contempt of business-model.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/24/everything-not-mandatory/#is-prohibited

Image: Belem (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Desire_path_%2819811581366%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #desire paths #design #drm #everything not mandatory is prohibited #apps #ip #innovation #user innovation #technological self-determination #john deere #twitter #felony contempt of business model

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numbpill · 3 months ago

Text

========================================================

[tutorial: build your own neocities/nekoweb page]

========================================================

a beginner's guide for making your very own home on the indie web—retro, personal, weird, and 100% yours.

this ain’t an average wix, squarespace, or tiktok aesthetic.

we’re talking full html/css with soul and attitude.

[ prerequisites ]

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

> an idea

> basic text editor (vscode, notepad++, or even notepad)

> account on https://neocities.org or https://nekoweb.org

> some gifs or tiles you love (dig deep or make your own)

> optional: image host or gif repo (or self-host everything)

[ feeling overwhelmed? read this. ]

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

you do *not* need to know everything.

html is not a mountain. it's a garden.

you plant one tag. then another. then a style. then a button.

you can build your site piece by piece.

and every piece is a portal to somewhere personal.

you are allowed to make broken pages.

you are allowed to use templates.

you are allowed to start over as many times as you want.

this is *your* world. you control the weird.

[ step 1: create an account ]

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

> neocities: https://neocities.org

> nekoweb: https://nekoweb.org

this is where you upload your files and see your site live.

[ step 2: your first file - index.html ]

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

make a new file: `index.html`

basic starter:

<html>

<head>

<title>my weird little corner</title>

</head>

<body>

<h1>welcome to the void</h1>

<p>this is my page. it’s strange. like me.</p>

</body>

</html>

> upload to the dashboard

> boom. you’re live at

https://yoursite.neocities.org

or https://nekoweb.org/u/yoursite

[ step 3: add a style sheet - style.css ]

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

create a file called `style.css` and upload it.

here’s some nostalgic magic:

body {

background: url('tile.gif');

color: lime;

font-family: "Courier New", monospace;

text-shadow: 1px 1px 0 black;

}

img {

image-rendering: pixelated;

}

marquee {

font-size: 20px;

color: magenta;

}

link it in your html and the vibes activate.

[ step 4: decorate it like a haunted usb ]

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

> use <marquee> for chaos scrolls

> embed gifs from https://gifcities.org/

> steal buttons from https://cyber.dabamos.de/88x31/

> set up a guestbook at https://www.smartgb.com/

> loop audio with <audio autoplay loop>

> add fake errors, 90s web lore, random link lists

[ step 5: resources, themes, and comfort ]

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

> templates & layouts: https://numbpilled-themes.tumblr.com

> glitchy gifs & buttons: https://glitchcat.neocities.org/resources

> layout builder: https://sadgrl.online/projects/layout-builder/

> free tiled backgrounds: https://backgrounds.neocities.org/

> beginner html intro: https://www.w3schools.com/html/

> pixel fonts & cyber assets: https://fontstruct.com/

remember:

you don't need to know js. you don't need to be a coder.

you just need a mood, a direction, a dream.

the html will follow.

[ bonus concept: shrine pages ]

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

> a page just for one character you love

> a room to house digital fragments of your identity

> embed quotes, music, images like altars

> call it shrine.html and link it from your homepage

[ closing mantra ]

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

you are not here to be optimized.

you are not a brand.

you are a ghost inside the machine,

carving your initials into the silicon void.

welcome to Your website.

========================================================

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cheezitofthevalley · 10 months ago

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a guide to internet graphics and my blog

I'll try to make this entertaining, but we have a lot to cover!

Q: Sooo... What are blinkies? Or buttons?

A: Blinkies are a type of graphic that was popular 15+ years ago on personal blogs, often on a web host called Geocities.

Geocities no longer exists, but lovers of the indie/old web use other platforms, such as the new Neocities, to make their own old web-inspired blogs. They often decorate these with collectible graphics.

Q: You haven't really answered my question. What's the difference between all of these graphics?

A: Well, there are a lot of different kinds of graphics. For the sake of time, I'll only talk about the ones I post.

Blinkies are usually 150x20 pixels, but many creators like to improve their quality by making them 300x40, or even larger. There are also some oddly-sized blinkies, like this one:

However, most blinkies adhere to the standard dimensions. Most of them also have "blinking" borders, and usually feature text.

Let's talk about buttons. Buttons are, well, buttons. This button specifically is 88x31. This seemingly random size was the standard for Geocities users back in the day, who used these buttons as a portal/advertisement to their website, as well as a way to say pretty much whatever they wanted. Lot's of companies used them as well. Here are some examples:

Not all buttons share this standard dimension, though. Here are some other possibilities:

There are variations of these, too. Some buttons look pretty weird:

...and there are blinkies called "chain blinkies" that look like something else entirely:

Q: Ok, cool. What about stamps?

A: Stamps are a bit different. They're a slighter newer thing, and were made popular on Deviantart in the early 2010's. They are traditionally 99x56 pixels, and can be used to decorate any blog or website. Here are some examples:

as you can see, they can be made with a variety of borders.

I would love to continue, but I think this is enough for today. I'll have a part two up within a couple days! Stay tuned for explanations and examples of dividers, favicons, fanlistings, web etiquette, and more!

part two!

#blinkies #neocities #blog resources #animated gif #stamps #old web #web resources #old internet #web graphics #carrd graphics #geocities #buttons #88 x 31 buttons #88x31 buttons #88x31 #guide #graphics #old web graphics

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littlest-w01f · 3 months ago

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Sentiments

Azriel x Reader

For @starfallweek [hosted by: @azsazz and @writingsbychlo]

Starfall Week 2025 Masterlist

Day 4 - Character A thought it was a date and Character B thought they were going as a group

Summary: A little misunderstanding, thats all it was, a gathering with your friends was all that you thought it was, but for a certain shadowsinger, it was meant something way more.

Cw: Fluff

"Oh, y/n, why didn't you tell me you saw Azriel as a brother?" Cassian had snuck in beside you while you admired the star-lit sky surrounded by your people, his question took you by surprise. He slung his arm around you, "If I had known I never would've convinced Azriel to persue you."

"Wait what?" You spun to Cassian, confusion written all over your face. His words repeated in your head, and the fact that he convinced Azriel to pursue you rang in your mind.

Cassian chuckled softly, his golden eyes glinting in the starlight as he gazed at you intently. "Oh come now, don't act so surprised. It's clear as day that Azriel has feelings for you, strong ones at that." He gave you a gentle squeeze with the arm still draped across your shoulders.

"I may have... Encouraged him to take action, to stop holding back and express his true desires." A mischievous smile played at the corners of his lips. "Little did I know he was a brother to you."

"Cassian who told you that?" Every moment you'd spend with Azriel played in your head, his feelings for you were something you had been unable to see, you turned to Cassian, "This... This was supposed to be something..."

"Azriel thought..." You took a few steps away from Cassian, looking for Azriel in the party, at every flicker of shadow. As you rushed through the crowded party, pushing past bodies and clinking glasses, your heart raced with each step. The revelation hung heavy in the air, Azriel's feelings, Cassian's meddling, the complex web of bonds and unspoken affections.

As you frantically searched the crowded party, your eyes finally landed on a tall, broad-shouldered figure standing alone near the balcony indoors. Azriel. He seemed lost in thought, gazing out at the twinkling sky, trying to ignore the festive chaos swirling around him.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you approached him slowly, your heels clicking against the polished floor. When you reached his side, you gently placed a hand on his arm, feeling the firm muscles tense slightly at your touch.

"Azriel," you said softly, your voice barely audible over the pulsing music and chatter. "Can we talk? Please?"

He turned to face you then, his piercing hazel eyes widening as they met yours. There was a vulnerability in them that you'd never seen before, shadows curling away as if giving you privacy, a raw emotion that made your heart ache.

"Of course, y/n. Always." His deep, resonant voice was low and intimate, meant only for your ears amidst the party. Slowly, deliberately, he took your hand in his much larger one, scared fingers intertwining with your softer skin. The contact sent a shiver racing up your spine. "I will always be there for you, even if you see me as your br-"

You cut him off with his kiss, squeezing his hand tighter, leaning into him. Eyes closing as you finally felt his lips against yours, countless nights of imagining what it would feel like and you never imagined the situation you would be in when it did.

Azriel froze for a split second as your lips met his, clearly stunned by this sudden turn of events. But then, almost instantly, he melted into the kiss. One large hand came up to cup the back of your neck while the other pulled you flush against his muscular chest.

He kissed you back with a fervour that stole your breath away, centuries of pent-up longing, pouring out into the passionate embrace. His lips moved against yours with skill and hunger, coaxing you to part them and allow him to deepen the kiss.

When he finally broke away, both of you were left panting, hearts hammering in sync. Azriel rested his forehead against yours, hazel eyes fluttering open to gaze at you with unrestrained adoration and desire.

"That was…" He murmured huskily, voice roughened with emotion. "Not very family like of you."

"I don't see you as my brother, I never have, that'd be disgusting given the thoughts I have of you." You whispered back, hands over his on your face, "Who even got that in your head, Az?"

"You... You truly don't feel that way?" He breathed, his grip on you tightened, hope shining in his eyes, voice thick with emotion. "All this time, I thought... I hoped, but I never dared to dream... I mean we did grow up together, and I see Cassian and Rhysand as my brothers but..." His hands splayed across the small of your back, pressing you against the hard planes of his body. "I love you, y/n. Not as a sister, but as the one I've wanted since the moment I first saw you."

In response to his words, you surged up onto your tiptoes and captured his lips in another searing kiss, pouring all of your own long-suppressed feelings into the heated embrace.

When you finally parted for air, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent mixed with something new and exciting. Your hands roamed over the broad expanse of his chest, mapping the contours of muscle beneath his shirt. "I'm sorry I just thought by us, last night you meant you, me, Rhys and Cass..." A realisation hit you, "And that's why you thought I think of you the same way... This whole thing was my fault huh?" You asked with a sheepish grin, "Leaving you brooding."

Azriel shook his head vigorously, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. "No, no, it's not your fault at all. If anything, I should have been clearer, more direct about my feelings instead of letting them fester all these years. I was just too afraid to risk our relationship, to potentially lose you completely if you didn't return my affection."

"Come on, there's still time for us to spend together tonight." Azriel smiled warmly, taking your hand and leading you towards the balcony doors. The cool night air greeted you as you stepped outside, the distant sounds of the party fading into background noise. He simply held you close, savouring the feeling of finally having you in his arms without restraint.

{General Taglist- @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-angst @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo @mellowmusings @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tele86}

{Azriel Taglist- @fxckmiup @annamariereads16 @saltedcoffeescotch @satorusemepls @fieldofdaisiies}

#starfallweek2025 #starfall week #starfall #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel acosf #azriel acomaf #acotar azriel

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brineoffire · 9 months ago

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Part 1 of that hybrid au i was talking about yall! Warnings for hints of non-con, canon typical violence, slavery.

You are a rare type of dragon, sought after by many people, especially criminals. When one finally gets his hands on you your life is run by him completely, until he finds himself in the firing line of task force 141.

You sit on a plush armchair in the center of the room, your legs draped over one of the armrests and your wings spread out over the other, webbed ends resting on the floor. You're reclined with your head tilted back, your neck exposed and showing off the studded leather collar sitting there, metal detailing glinting under the spotlight.

Staring at the ceiling has been your go to these days, especially when Alphonso, your owner of over eight years now, insisted on you being splayed out when he had guests. You hear a sharp whistle and your pointed ears flick towards the sound, eyes following soon after, meeting Alphonso's from the entrance to the dining room. Taking the cue you pull yourself up to sit on the armrest and spread your wings, the fur over their tops ruffling up as you stretch your arms over your head, your back arching to show them off to the people that stream in behind him. With your chin tilted up you watch him, just as he taught you to. Your eyes track each one who dares to meet your gaze, the light glinting off them menacingly.

He's speaking to them with his usual confidence, his charm oozing off of him in waves. It never ceases to disgust you, the fakeness of it all. You've seen him behind closed doors. When all the business is over and the man's psychopathic tendencies override his charisma. Behind you your tail slides over the opposite arm rest, its furred end flicking as you play your part. An over glorified guard dog. A trophy to be shined and put on display.

Dragons are already one of the more unique beings found in the world of monsters and men and you being half furred half scaled has left you in an even smaller category. One that had you straight through the black market as soon as you turned eighteen, your parents unable to deny the amount of money they were offered nor the threats on their lives when you were with them. You hardly remember them at this point, not like you'd care to either way. They always thought it was too dangerous to let you out of the house too often, always making sure to keep you close when they did. They were right of course, but in the eyes of a child, a cage was a cage, no matter the necessity.

Now here you sit, glaring out at the people behind your master, muscles visibly tense and coiled tightly. It's part of your duty to protect Alphonso, and with all the conditioning he's put you through you make damn sure to be perfect at it. There are armed guards stationed around the room, but you're meant to be faster than them. You're meant to look prettier too, meaning you'll be punished if you don't protect him and if you're injured too badly.

He finishes whatever loud speech he was giving and the crowd slowly files into the tables around you. Turning to you he smiles sweetly and his steps echo louder than anyone else's. His guests are still filing in as he takes his seat, your tail snaking around the back of his shoulders and flicking over his lap. You hear him give you a hum of approval as he leans back in the seat.

As always his hand slides up your neck, fingers grazing your collar as he tugs lightly at the chains on your muzzle. The one you wear today is a sparkly thing. Gold chains held together with leather straps, a set of gems glittering over the bridge of the nose and over your cheeks. He rests his elbow on your thigh, his hand lightly gripping the chain that links your collar to the muzzle and waits for everyone to enter.

You keep on your guard, scanning the crowd until you smell something odd. Alphonso's guests are usually a mix of humans, magic users, and monsters. Of the monsters he hosts it's usually undead types, shifters, and vampires but today is different. Today one of the scents is masked, it's not enough to throw off your nose though. Somewhere in the room is another dragon, and you know, for a fact, that Alphonso knows no other dragons.

You scan the room carefully, you know Alphonso would be more upset that you didn't catch them at the door, so you just keep watch. Whatever spell they are under is good, most likely casted with very expensive materials, but even with such good quality you slowly pick through the most likely suspects. There ends up being three separate tables with a few separate people.

One woman who sits in a back corner, a dark gown with expensive shifter furs around her neck and shoulders. A taller man sitting next to a large, muscular woman both wearing the exact same suits. Then there's another tall man sitting with a dark skinned harpy man, simple dark suits adorned with fine jewelry and detailing. Your eyes scan over them cautiously, making sure to memorize their details as you watch. Raising the alarm now would only end in more trouble than it's worth, so for now you keep quiet and keep the three tables in check.

Once everyone is seated a pair of Alphonso's chefs come out, bringing him a small table with tonight's dinner. He takes his time looking over it with a wide grin before nodding to the chefs. At his approval the pair leave once again a group of waiters filing in to deliver the same plates to the rest of his guests. You watch them as they work, taking their distraction to stare at the tables you noted. As the lone woman gets her food you notice one of the chefs specifically gives her a special flute of wine. She raises the glass in Alphonso's direction and he nods to her.

The remaining two tables are treated normally so you watch the table with the man and woman first. You note that they spend their time speaking quietly, completely ignoring the plates they are given. Only the glasses of champagne they have refilled again are touched at all. Watching them speak you realize there are sharp fangs where canines would be. These two are vampires which means only the last table with the man and the harpy is left.

You look over to the last of the three tables watching the man and harpy thank the staff for their food. Manners among Alphonse's company is already out of place, but definitely not a sign of hostility. Watching them talk to each other you can't help but stare at the harpy. His wings are a marble of several different browns and blacks, the darker colors reflecting with a slightly red tint. Watching him speak your trail, your eye's over his sharp jawline, lingering on soft looking lips before you switch your attention.

When you finally set your sights on the other man, you catch his eyes immediately. He had been watching you as your eyes wandered over the harpy. Keeping eye contact with him is easy, you tilt your head up slightly, a show of acknowledgement, but you exhale a small breath of heat. It's a nearly invisible wave of steam that rolls over your parted lips and through the bars of your muzzle. It's a dragon's warning, one you know he can see clearly. One that tells him you see exactly what he is and that you're standing your ground.

Surprisingly, he lowers his head in a quick bow, acknowledging your territory. Normally the people that try any assault are either full of fear or boiling anger. You take in his face for a moment longer, memorizing the facial hair over his jaw, the almost permanent furrow of his brow, and the way his dark eyes hold your gaze without malice. When he breaks eye contact you watch him turn to the harpy and exchange a few words.

You barely hear over the murmur of the crowd, though you're sure he chuckles. As they finish talking the harpy's dark eyes slide over to meet yours. Soft and dark much like his companion's. Though from this distance your eyes still catch the slivers of gold that run through them. You can't help but tilt your head curiously at the view which brings a smile to his lips. At that you break your stare to continue scanning the rest of the room as Alphonso eats behind you. The two men exchange glances again but you don't notice, keeping your focus on your duties now that you've examined them.

A hand trails over the strip of fur over the top of your tail and you glance over your shoulder. Alphonso is giving you a pleased smirk as he leans back in his seat. He tugs your tail back roughly, pulling you into his lap. You've already expected it, your wings spreading out over the opposite arm rest to catch yourself slightly as you settle on his lap, eyes trained on his face.

“That's my boy. Good.” He says with a charming grin as his hands settle on your knees and the back of your neck. His fingers fiddle idly with your collar, trailing over it as he watches his crowd. You've always hated when he got like this. Always wanted to pull away from his touches because you know for him it's just a display of ownership. He's drilled it into your head to keep still for him so he can show you off. Show off how he owns you completely.

#task force 141 #141 x male reader #141 x reader #141 x trans male reader #poly 141 #tf 141 #141 #poly 141 x male reader #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #brine scratch #141 hybrid au

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kairawrites · 10 months ago

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sweet escape.

🌺 masterlist 🌺

pairing: lewis hamilton x his wife

requested: A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating.

summary: It's your turn to host the sleepover, and the house is crawling with kids. All Lewis wants is to enjoy his favorite snack in peace, but someone else has beaten him to it.

words: 1.7k

It was your turn to host the sleepover, and Ariel and Mason, along with their friends, had been buzzing with excitement all week. Their friends always claimed that you hosted the best sleepovers, and tonight was no exception. The living room had been transformed into a comfort kingdom, a cozy haven that would make any child’s sleepover dreams come true.

The sofa was covered in blankets and pillows, perfectly prepared for you and Lewis to cuddle up later. Roscoe was already settled in, burrowed into one of the blankets. Air mattresses, each adorned with fluffy blankets and an array of pillows, covered the remainder of the living room floor. Pressed together and ready for the kids, they formed cozy nests. String lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, twinkling glow over the room, and each air mattress had a customized snack basket placed at the foot, filled with treats specially chosen for each child.

In the kitchen, boxes of freshly delivered pizza sat waiting on the island, their aroma mingling with the sweet scent of the homemade treats you had prepared. After picking up the kids and their friends from their respective homes, Lewis had returned to find this magical setup already prepared and waiting for the night’s festivities. The sight of it had brought a smile to his face—this was exactly what a sleepover should be.

Once Ariel and Mason, along with their friends, were fed and changed into their pajamas, you managed to get them to agree on a movie. They were going to watch Monsters, Inc., a classic that never failed to entertain. The kids settled into their cozy nests of blankets and pillows, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the string lights as you switched off the overhead light. Lewis watched in awe as you effortlessly managed all eight of them, your voice calm and soothing as you adjusted the volume and made sure everyone was comfortable.

You were wearing pajamas that matched Ariel’s and her friends’—a cute set in soft pink with Hello Kitty prints scattered across the fabric. Lewis, on the other hand, was dressed in black pajamas adorned with Spider-Man prints, matching those of Mason and his friends. His pajama top was emblazoned with the superhero’s web design, while the pants were red with a Miles Morales pattern.

As the kids finally settled into their makeshift beds, Lewis watched you walk over, a smile playing on his lips as you let out a breath, clearly relieved that the evening was under control. He reached out, his fingers lightly touching the hem of your shorts. “Cute pajamas,” he noted.

You giggled as you glanced up at him. “Thanks, but you’re one to talk.” You gestured to his Spider-Man pajamas, and he grinned.

“Hey, don’t be mad I got the better pair,” Lewis said with a chuckle, leaning down to steal a quick kiss.

“I have something for you,” you said, reaching around him. Lewis’s eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement as you produced a personalized snack basket just for him. “The kids wanted to try the peanut butter bites, so I had to give you only two,” you said with a playful grin.

Lewis’s grin widened as he took the basket from you. His hand instantly moved to retrieve a peanut butter bite. A soft moan of appreciation was muffled as he bit into the sweet treat. He’d been looking forward to this moment all day, from the moment he found you pulling out the ingredients in the morning.

“You always spoil me,” he said, giving you a quick kiss before moving to join Roscoe on the sofa, ready to enjoy the treats.

Lewis was sprawled comfortably on the sofa, Roscoe resting contentedly against his chest as he scratched behind the dog’s ears. The kids were thoroughly engrossed, laughing at the antics of Sulley and Mike.

However, something felt off. The absence of your laughter was unusual. You were always the one who laughed the loudest at this film. Lewis lifted his head from the armrest behind him and scanned the room, searching for you.

Seeing that you were nowhere in sight, he figured you might have slipped upstairs for a bit of peace and quiet. With a small smile, he reached into his personalized snack basket, hoping to grab another peanut butter bite. To his dismay, he found that there were none left.

He set the basket aside and rose from the sofa, leaving Roscoe to stretch out in his spot. Lewis headed to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and checked every shelf and corner for any remaining peanut butter bites. His search proved fruitless, leaving him mildly frustrated. He sighed, shutting the fridge.

A thought crossed his mind—maybe, just maybe, there was one last stash hidden away in the pantry. You had the habit of storing treats in the pantry when you wanted to keep them away from the kids.

Lewis opened the pantry door, only to stop in his tracks. There you were, standing in the small pantry, looking a little too guilty for someone just grabbing a snack. Your hand was tucked behind your back, your eyes wide with surprise as you met his gaze.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding?”

“Just…getting a snack,” you replied.

Lewis’s gaze passed over your face, his eyes lingering for just a moment. He had known you long enough to recognize the subtle signs when you were hiding something. The way your eyes shifted slightly to the side and the faintest of smiles that didn’t quite reach your eyes were all dead giveaways.

He could tell you were trying to play it cool, but he could see through it. “What are you hiding back there?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice. His expression was one of playful suspicion, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but you took a step back as he advanced.

Lewis leaned in, the familiar scent of chocolate and peanut butter widening his smile. “Is that the last of the peanut butter bites?”

Before he could say another word, you quickly stepped forward, covering his mouth with your hand. “Shh!” you hissed, glancing over his shoulder at the kitchen as if expecting the kids to burst in at any moment.

Lewis chuckled, his laughter muffled against your hand. You guided him by the front of his shirt, pulling him inside the pantry as he reached back to shut the door behind him. The small space felt even smaller with the two of you squeezed inside.

You tried to maintain your composure, but with him this close you failed.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, you looked up at him. “Alright, fine,” you admitted, unable to keep up the pretense any longer. “I took the last of the peanut butter bites.”

Lewis’s eyes lit up with a mix of triumph and amusement. “So, you were hiding them?” he asked, his voice full of mock surprise. “I thought you made these for me.”

Your eyes rolled, yet you allowed him to take a bite out of the bar in your hand. “What if I want them for myself?”

Lewis paused, a mock-serious expression on his face. “Then you shouldn’t have made them so good.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you watched him take a second bite. “Guess that’s on me, huh?”

“Yeah, means you gotta share.” Lewis leaned in, his smile widening as he kissed you softly.

You broke the remainder of the bar in half. You held out one piece to Lewis.

“You know,” he said with a chuckle, “I didn’t kiss you just to get that bar.”

You giggled, raising an eyebrow. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

With a mischievous grin, Lewis leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours as he placed a second, more lingering kiss on your lips. The sweet taste of peanut butter lingered between you. You could feel the warmth of his hand against the back of your neck.

As he pulled back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours with a playful glint. “Maybe that's all I'm after,” he mumbled, lips brushing against yours again.

Despite the warmth of your husband's lips against yours, you can't help but giggle. “Why are we hiding snacks in our own home?”

The sound of your laughter pulled a smile to your husband’s lips.

“Have you seen the way those kids look at me the second they realize I have food?” His brows raised, Lewis popped the last of his bar into his mouth. “They’ve got their mother’s eyes—big, innocent, and impossible to say no to.”

The two of you stayed there for a few more minutes, savoring a few moments of quiet. Eventually, the sound of muffled laughter pulled your gaze to your husband’s.

“Thanks for sharing,” he smiled softly, gently cupping your face, leaning in for a kiss.

You found yourself pressed against the pantry door, your breath catching as his lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate intensity. His touch slipping beneath your pajama top.

When he finally pulled back, you were both slightly dazed, your heart racing in your chest. Lewis rested his forehead against yours, his voice a low murmur. “Whose idea was it to invite a bunch of kids to our house again?”

You giggled, remembering the enthusiasm in his voice when he suggested it. “Yours.”

He groaned, shaking his head as he kissed you again, a little less serious this time, more playful. “Remind me to never get any bright ideas.”

“Don’t let them stay up too late,” you warned with a smile. “Or you'll have to wait until tomorrow to get what you want.”

“They’re not the issue,” Lewis teased, his voice soft as his fingers traced your jawline. “Keeping you quiet is.”

You gently rolled your eyes at his teasing, but your heart fluttered as his gaze drifted back to your lips.

“Get rid of the evidence,” you whispered, your smile widening as you reached behind you to open the pantry door.

But before you step out, you stood on your toes and kissed him quickly, a soft, sweet peck that was over almost as soon as it began. Lewis watched you go with a lingering smile.

#lewis hamilton x reader #black reader #black! reader #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton imagine

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not-terezi-pyrope · 1 year ago

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Often when I post an AI-neutral or AI-positive take on an anti-AI post I get blocked, so I wanted to make my own post to share my thoughts on "Nightshade", the new adversarial data poisoning attack that the Glaze people have come out with.

I've read the paper and here are my takeaways:

Firstly, this is not necessarily or primarily a tool for artists to "coat" their images like Glaze; in fact, Nightshade works best when applied to sort of carefully selected "archetypal" images, ideally ones that were already generated using generative AI using a prompt for the generic concept to be attacked (which is what the authors did in their paper). Also, the image has to be explicitly paired with a specific text caption optimized to have the most impact, which would make it pretty annoying for individual artists to deploy.

While the intent of Nightshade is to have maximum impact with minimal data poisoning, in order to attack a large model there would have to be many thousands of samples in the training data. Obviously if you have a webpage that you created specifically to host a massive gallery poisoned images, that can be fairly easily blacklisted, so you'd have to have a lot of patience and resources in order to hide these enough so they proliferate into the training datasets of major models.

The main use case for this as suggested by the authors is to protect specific copyrights. The example they use is that of Disney specifically releasing a lot of poisoned images of Mickey Mouse to prevent people generating art of him. As a large company like Disney would be more likely to have the resources to seed Nightshade images at scale, this sounds like the most plausible large scale use case for me, even if web artists could crowdsource some sort of similar generic campaign.

Either way, the optimal use case of "large organization repeatedly using generative AI models to create images, then running through another resource heavy AI model to corrupt them, then hiding them on the open web, to protect specific concepts and copyrights" doesn't sound like the big win for freedom of expression that people are going to pretend it is. This is the case for a lot of discussion around AI and I wish people would stop flagwaving for corporate copyright protections, but whatever.

The panic about AI resource use in terms of power/water is mostly bunk (AI training is done once per large model, and in terms of industrial production processes, using a single airliner flight's worth of carbon output for an industrial model that can then be used indefinitely to do useful work seems like a small fry in comparison to all the other nonsense that humanity wastes power on). However, given that deploying this at scale would be a huge compute sink, it's ironic to see anti-AI activists for that is a talking point hyping this up so much.

In terms of actual attack effectiveness; like Glaze, this once again relies on analysis of the feature space of current public models such as Stable Diffusion. This means that effectiveness is reduced on other models with differing architectures and training sets. However, also like Glaze, it looks like the overall "world feature space" that generative models fit to is generalisable enough that this attack will work across models.

That means that if this does get deployed at scale, it could definitely fuck with a lot of current systems. That said, once again, it'd likely have a bigger effect on indie and open source generation projects than the massive corporate monoliths who are probably working to secure proprietary data sets, like I believe Adobe Firefly did. I don't like how these attacks concentrate the power up.

The generalisation of the attack doesn't mean that this can't be defended against, but it does mean that you'd likely need to invest in bespoke measures; e.g. specifically training a detector on a large dataset of Nightshade poison in order to filter them out, spending more time and labour curating your input dataset, or designing radically different architectures that don't produce a comparably similar virtual feature space. I.e. the effect of this being used at scale wouldn't eliminate "AI art", but it could potentially cause a headache for people all around and limit accessibility for hobbyists (although presumably curated datasets would trickle down eventually).

All in all a bit of a dick move that will make things harder for people in general, but I suppose that's the point, and what people who want to deploy this at scale are aiming for. I suppose with public data scraping that sort of thing is fair game I guess.

Additionally, since making my first reply I've had a look at their website:

Used responsibly, Nightshade can help deter model trainers who disregard copyrights, opt-out lists, and do-not-scrape/robots.txt directives. It does not rely on the kindness of model trainers, but instead associates a small incremental price on each piece of data scraped and trained without authorization. Nightshade's goal is not to break models, but to increase the cost of training on unlicensed data, such that licensing images from their creators becomes a viable alternative.

Once again we see that the intended impact of Nightshade is not to eliminate generative AI but to make it infeasible for models to be created and trained by without a corporate money-bag to pay licensing fees for guaranteed clean data. I generally feel that this focuses power upwards and is overall a bad move. If anything, this sort of model, where only large corporations can create and control AI tools, will do nothing to help counter the economic displacement without worker protection that is the real issue with AI systems deployment, but will exacerbate the problem of the benefits of those systems being more constrained to said large corporations.

Kinda sucks how that gets pushed through by lying to small artists about the importance of copyright law for their own small-scale works (ignoring the fact that processing derived metadata from web images is pretty damn clearly a fair use application).

#not-terezi-speaks #ai #nightshade

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hussyknee · 11 months ago

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Link to video

Link to linktree in Polly's bio

There's SO much great stuff in her linktree, especially for USAmericans.

Link to GFMs hosted on Polly's bio: Rawan, Abedalrahman, Abood and Fatima,

Link to Uncommitted Movement: TikTok, Web

Link to Operation Olive Branch: TikTok, Linktree

Link to GFMs vetted by OOB

Edit 1: alt text enabled in images.

Edit 2: Video transcript provided by @alltheverses

[Transcript and description: Tiktok by @thepocketreport shows a person with a denim jackets, nose ring, and chin-length hair talking.) If you're feeling hopeless of helpless about the genocide happening in Gaza or conflicted about the election and the Harris campaign, I have two, actually three tangible things you can do right now.

First is to follow, interact with and familiarize yourself with the Uncommitted Movement. They're tagged below and explain everything so much better on their page. But they're a very effective movement leveraging anti war electoral power and Democrats' own governing systems to try and influence the Biden administration's Gaza policies and hopefully the Harris campaign's as well.

Which brings me to the second thing, which is going to their profile and watching their video about the Not Another Bomb movement. Going to their bio and getting involved. This is the Uncommitted Movement page. (Displays @uncommitedmvmnt profile with several videos. Speaker's head circles around the video for "The Not Another Bomb Campaign".) And this is the Not Another Bomb Campaign video. (Returns to regular view of the speaker.) The Not Another Bomb Campaign is similarly utilizing the electoral power of the anti war movement in order to push through an arms embargo. Theory being that we are not gonna to get a ceasefire until the US stops sending bombs to Isreal. Pretty straightforward.

And third, if you are able to, is to keep donating to Palestinian families trying to leave or get resources. I don't know what's happening with the algorithm but we're seeing a lot less of them, but that doesn’t mean they don't exist. There are two families in my bio who are still trying to get out and get medical help. And if you go to Operation Olive Branch there are hundreds.

We've all heard the thing about looking for the helpers when things are hopeless and you don't know what to do, and in this situation, those helpers are organizers. /end transcript.]

#uncommitted movement #save gaza #free gaza #not another bomb #free palestine #operation olive branch #the pocket report #gaza genocide #palestinian genocide #us politics #harris 2024 #help for palestine #help for gaza #gfm spreadsheet #gfm fundraiser #knee of huss

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insidemyrottenbrain · 10 months ago

Note

Henry gets jealous because you spend time with Richard

The risk of jealousy - TSH

Henry Marchbanks Winter x GN!Reader

Dearest anonymous, I hope you can forgive him and his denial of jealousy.

The sharp claw of jealousy finally scratches the untouchable Henry.

I’ve always been incredibly particular about whom I associate with. The people around me need to be worthy. Now, I am well aware that my choice of words may make me sound arrogant, so allow me to explain: I want them to have shared interests, to be able to hold late-night debates on esoteric topics, while giving me a sense of belonging and consequently not tiring me out socially. I do not ask for much, really. Alas, one cannot always get what one desires.

The little group of which I’m currently a part of is… pleasant. The twins regularly host dinners which are, of course, the birthplace of many fights and arguments regarding the most trivial subjects that usually end up with Henry winning. Francis unhesitatingly puts his aunt’s house at our disposal whenever desiderium naturae strikes us and amusingly complains about some disease or other the whole way there. I even consider some of Bunny’s jokes witty on the rare occasions when he stops being insufferable. Unfortunately, they all give me a shallow sense of belonging that only manages to make itself felt in transit moments. However, Henry is different. With him, I feel content reading in silence after a long day, waking up in the same bed, legs intertwined under the soft cotton sheets he insists on buying with Apolon tugging at our lazy eyelids or simply challenging one another’s knowledge on whatever topic interests us at a given moment. A continuous childlike rendez-vous.

I do not know why I have been so platonically attracted to Richard of late. When he first joined our Greek class, he did not strike me as someone who would manage to integrate his lowly self into our complexly layered group, or even more, someone who would enjoy my presence. He was and still is flawed and ordinary. However, this normality flowing through every habit, every movement, or expression is a strange refresh in an intangible web of meticulously tangled appearances and facades. Richard is not some ancient scholar buried in paradoxical ideals, Gods-praising rituals, and glorious beliefs, but a modern human. He is aware of the current world, unisolated, present, an active participant. Not only does he attend parties but he also drinks, kisses, and loves strangers. Though an exaggeration to the unknowing eye, he seems to me quite the Epicurean in a cult of Stoics (excluding Bunny).

Despite my writings above which one might foolishly mistake as praise on my part, I must now dive into Richard’s own tendency to fictitiousness. He throws, here and there, long, lavish fabrications (with the aid of which he becomes unconsciously arrogant) and slight inexactitudes he considers too small to pass unnoticed by the attentive ear. And according to my fate and against my trusted intuition, I found myself unable to stop listening whenever he started talking about his (fake) childhood in California filled with swimming pools and orange groves and dissolute, charming show-biz parents, teenage years with a new girlfriend every night, the newest dramas (if they truly do exist and are not yet other fictions) circling Hampden.

There is a quirk. I notice it now, when we’re all standing in the day room of Francis’, or rather his aunt’s, manor. Charles is playing the piano filling the room with gifts for ears, showing off as he always does, while Bunny comments on one rhythm or another, challenging him, fueling him further. Everything is normal, except for one detail that does not escape me. Henry grows more agitated with every single one of Richard’s grant histoires. Albeit, the so-called agitations are rather minuscule, but I pride myself in being able to distinguish them. A small frown, creasing his pale forehead just the right amount for it to disappear just as quickly and nonchalantly as it came, a constant rub of his hand against his limped leg, and a novel proneness to small physical gestures: touching knees, pressing shoulders, his hand on the small of my back or idly playing with my fingers. I settle on questioning him later since I know he will not show any truths of his mind in such large company.

We share a room, since we stopped bothering to hide our relationship long ago from the others. Henry’s already in bed, his nose buried in a book, dressed in his pyjamas, his initials embroidered upon the left side of his chest; H.M.W. If I had been told years ago that I was to be sharing a bed or be in a relationship with the person I suffered the least, the one that I had to compete with in Julian’s classes, the one that knew how to push my buttons I would have died of agony. But now I’m content. I know of the infatuation rendering me blind. My life has become a continuous torture, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to live without him. Just like Zeus who vows to fulfil his promise with a single sacred nod of his head, so am I unable to change the basis of my passion. He is in all my plans. In all the joys the future holds. In the dead of night, in Julian’s lessons, in the summer by the lake, instead of my mind’s eye being fully focused on one specific task, it always switches without fail to him.

I lower myself onto the bed next to him. “You seemed troubled earlier, in the day room.” I ask casually an indirect question.

“You’ve been spending an awful time with Richard.” He responds swiftly, tonelessly, simply pointing out a fact.

I consider my answer for a moment. “I suppose so.” I hum, just as my head hits the pillow. “Don’t you find him intriguing? He watches the news on television.”

“Intriguing?” He blurts out, closing his book and putting it on the bedside table. Clearly, I have his attention. He turns on his side to fully face me, his hair falling over his forehead and slightly over his glasses. “His intriguing part eludes me. You are wasting your time with him, listening to his rambles.” He says clearly irritated, not bothering to keep up his stoic facade. “I assure you, you would be much better spending your time wisely.”

I frown. This is unusual of him. “He is in our class, is he not? I cannot avoid him.”

“Of course not, that’s not what I am suggesting.” His eyebrows remain furrowed. “What I do mean is that he does not bring you any benefit.” He continues in a monotone. “Why must you listen to him with the same attention and interest as you listen to me?”

Ah, I see. Henry is jealous.

“Is this jealousy?” I ask attempting desperately to restrain the slight smile forming on my face.

“You are mistaken.” He ‘corrects’ me sharply, raising his eyebrows. “I am merely stating that I see no point in your interactions with Richard when you could gain much more from being in my presence.”

I raise a sceptical eyebrow. He acts as if I wouldn’t mourn his death in the same way Achilles mourned Patroclus’, with rage and violence.

Words are imperfect communication devices, so I pull him down by the back of his neck and press my lips against his in a pleasant normality. I feel him slightly relax against me, his hand resting on my neck.

“Henry,” I mumble as we part, forcefully stretching our souls apart. I remove his glasses and place them down next to us and his forehead naturally falls against mine “you know better than to have such doubts.”

“I do.” He mumbles back, not bothering to deny his feelings anymore. “However, it proves to be quite difficult to not have them when-” He stops considering his words. “When you plague me so. There is no day or night in which your existence takes mercy on me and does not destroy the little rationality I have left.” He lowers himself down on the bed next to me. “You inexplicably and absurdly manage to be and eradicate my sanity.” He sighs. “And it certainly does not help when you look at Richard with the same eyes you look at me.” Henry mutters.

My hand finds his and I chuckle. “I’d argue I look at him with entirely different eyes.” At my comment, Henry raises an amused eyebrow. “Perhaps you’ll stop seeing shadows where there are none.”

That is all he needs to defeat his insomnia in my arms once again and to fall prey to sleep’s vicious grasp his body indistinguishable from mine under the sheets, sharing one breath.

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