#;feedback loop

[beholdenning]

activity check // march 2024

status: passed

skill points acquired: 2 (1 monthly, 1 BOEL) total skill points: 20 -> 22 skill point allocation: sword c+ (6) -> sword b (8) | rank up! claims pending.

accessed: assassin mastery: -

completed threads: dropped threads: ✦ threads not yet allocated to mastery: 9

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 74

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

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Friday, March 25th; 9:15 a.m. - Camp Wiegman

I arrive in the common room where a large number of students have gathered. The head teachers and some instructors, including Lucy, have been called to a big meeting. The students are saying it’s about yesterday’s scandal, as several of them, myself included, suffered from indigestion. I’ll ask Lucy if that’s true. They were smart about it; they scheduled it for 9 a.m. to make sure we couldn’t leave before noon. So, we have an hour of free time. I spot Alexia sitting on the couch, chatting with a guy I don’t know. I’m glad she’s here too. We didn’t know which class would be freed due to the meeting. I walk over to them with my friends. I wanted to use this break to catch up on the form we had to fill out for the trip. The others assured me I didn’t miss much. They were bored to death, especially Leah, who was left alone because of me. The good thing is they’re going to give me their notes to help me fill out the questionnaire. I want to show my teacher I’m capable of working. Especially since he’s developed a kind of disdain for me recently. He didn’t even check on me yesterday or say I didn’t need to turn in my work. Well, according to Alessia, the questions were simple, and she thinks I wouldn’t have had any trouble answering them if I’d gone on the trip.

"Hey," I greet Ale.

"Oh, you’re here too!" she exclaims, hugging me. "How are you feeling?"

"Still the same as this morning," I joke.

Alexia was really worried when she found out I was one of the affected students. Fortunately, I was just sick yesterday. This morning feels like yesterday never happened. Of course, I skipped the hot chocolate today. It’ll take me some time before I can drink it again, but for now, I’m sticking to orange juice.

"Can you lend me your notes, Alessia?" I ask my friend, who’s now sitting on my other side.

"Oh, forget about school for a bit! You’re with us for once!" Ale scolds me.

"Alright, alright," I laugh. "You sound just like Lucy."

"She scolds you too?" Leah teases from the couch across from us.

"Yeah," I groan, stretching. "She dragged me out all weekend to make me stop. According to her, I always find something to obsess over when I’m stressed."

"She’s not wrong. Speaking of stress, have you heard back from the galleries?"

"It’s better not to talk about frustrating things right now..." Alessia comments on my behalf.

I cross my arms, feeling a bit down. I’ve gotten a few rejections this week, which I shared with Alessia. She also loves art and is happy that I’m pursuing it. She doesn’t have the same courage as me, though, since she plans to stick with administration to secure her future. I have to admit I’m starting to feel anxious about the feedback. Maybe I’ll have to do the same as her. There’s no way I’m staying home doing nothing, though.

"Don’t worry. I heard Mapi’s coming this weekend. That’s cool; she’ll be able to cheer you up."

I raise an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, Mapi’s coming?"

"Uh... You didn’t know? I called Jenni after class. Lucy told her this morning that she’s coming."

"Lucy?!"

This news catches me off guard. How is it that she knew before me that my best friend is coming? And even if that’s the case, why didn’t she just tell me? Alexia feels bad about my reaction.

"Maybe it was supposed to be a surprise...? Crap. I probably shouldn’t have told you! Lucy’s going to kill me! Can you pretend you don’t know?"

I smile despite myself and shake my head. Maybe she’s right. I hope so, honestly.

"What are you offering for my silence?" I tease, amused.

She playfully hits my arm, and our friends laugh. It’s so easy to tease her. I laugh too, but I’m glad she’s getting along better with my girlfriend. Suddenly, I start thinking about Mapi. It’s not surprising I wasn’t informed by her; I’ve been out of the loop, buried in my studies. Maybe she did message me, and I missed it. That would be more worrying. I already feel bad just thinking about it.

"So, what are we doing? Besides catching up on boring school stuff, of course."

"Hey. Calm down, will you?"

"Nope. By the way, Alba’s meeting Jenni next weekend. She’ll probably stop by the gym."

"Really? Where is she anyway?" I ask, glancing around.

"Probably with her girlfriend somewhere. I haven’t seen her since we got let out."

I chuckle, imagining exactly where they must be. Normally, we’re not allowed to have «intimate relationship », but with the supervision lightened, now’s probably the perfect time.

"I see. So, she’s stuck in for the weekend?"

"Yeah. Misa’s staying with her. That’s why we’re doing it next weekend. She’s excited to meet her..."

"I bet. How did Jenni take it?"

"She doesn’t know yet. Don’t say anything, though. I’m planning to break it to her gently this weekend..."

I laugh heartily. I’d pay to see her face when she tells her. I think she’s going to be totally shocked. Alexia explained to me that her only fear is that her sister won’t accept her, which would strain their relationship. I understand that. The opinion of someone close to you carries a lot of weight. I’ve been a victim of that between Lucy and Mapi myself.

"And why are you introducing them at their gym? Is there no other place?"

"What’s ‘their gym'?" Leah asks.

"Oh, uh... You don’t know."

"You’re not allowed to talk about it, are you?" she teases.

We glance at each other, and I shrug. I’m not sure, actually. Lucy hasn’t mentioned anything, but I don’t think she wants the students to know it’s her last year.

"Sorry, Leah," I simply say.

She shrugs indifferently. She doesn’t seem upset, so it’s fine.

"Anyway, so?"

"Well, I figured it’d be a neutral place. Plus, she’ll see that she has ambitious plans and that she’s not irresponsible."

"Hmm, hmm," I tease.

"What? You don’t think it’s a good idea?"

"I just wonder if you’re not trying to convince yourself..." I giggle.

"A little..." she admits. "Plus, I figured you guys would be there just in case..."

"Oh no, I’m stopping you right there. Lucy’s already told me she doesn’t want to be there when it happens."

"Oh no," she pouts. "Don’t tell me that."

"I swear. I didn’t even have to ask. She brought it up herself, and I don’t think it’s negotiable. She keeps saying she doesn’t want to see any of my friends from here before the end of the year. I’m sorry..."

"What if I organize a party?" Leah suggests. "It would kill two birds with one stone since I’d like to see her outside of here."

I grimace a little. She doesn’t realize I’m going to get scolded again if I keep pushing.

"That could be fun, being all together," Alessia agrees.

"You guys are unbelievable. You really can’t wait a month and a half?"

"Tell that to Alba," Alexia retorts. "She’s the one trying so hard to bring the events closer."

I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

"When would this party be?" I give in.

"In three weeks," Leah tells me. "My parents will be going away for the weekend with some friends. We figured it’d be the perfect time to throw another party. Plus, it’s right before the holidays."

Alessia nods beside her, confirming what Leah just said.

"OK…" I mutter. "I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything. Lucy can be really stubborn when she wants to be."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!" Ale replies excitedly.

She kisses my cheek several times before letting me go. Meanwhile, I keep glancing at every door that opens, hoping Lucy will walk through. We don’t know how long the meeting will last, but I’m optimistic. I smile when I see it’s not my girlfriend, but Ingrid. I interrupt Ale and Leah’s conversation, where my roommate is asking if it’s okay for her girlfriend to come, since she’s now planning to delay the meeting between her and her sister until then.

"I’ll be right back," I say as I stand up.

Alexia watches me, confused, until she spots Ingrid.

"Oh no. Please don’t tell her you know about Mapi. I’ll get in trouble again!" 

I laugh and wave her off. Whether she likes it or not, I’m definitely going to question Ingrid, who’s probably the first to know what’s going on. I approach her, and she spots me right away, greeting me with a smile.

"What brings you here, Ona?"

"Hey, how are you?"

"Good, and you?"

"Good too. Is Lucy still in the meeting?"

"Yep. You probably won’t see her all morning. She’s got a meeting with Wiegman right after."

A lightbulb goes off in my head. Damn! I completely forgot about that! She had told me earlier in the week that she scheduled a meeting with her to resign. Ingrid laughs, clearly noticing that I just remembered.

"I’m such an idiot."

"If you say so," she teases.

I bite my lip. I wish I could’ve said something to encourage her, but now it’s too late.

"Don’t stress about it. She won’t hold it against you. She knows you’ve got a lot on your mind. And you weren’t feeling well yesterday either."

I nod. It doesn’t erase the guilt I feel, though. I’ll try to make up for it this weekend. In the meantime, I remember why I’m here in the first place.

"I heard Mapi is coming."

"Did Alexia spill the beans?"

"Was it supposed to be a surprise?"

"Oh no. Mapi’s tried texting you several times this week, but none of the messages got through. She thinks your phone’s off. Lucy wanted to tell you yesterday, but you weren’t feeling well."

I groan, realizing what’s happened. I feel really bad now. My phone must be off since I haven’t used it since Monday.

"At least you found out she’s coming before we go pick her up, so it’s not too bad."

I scowl as she clearly makes fun of me. Well, I deserve it. At least she doesn’t beat around the bush when telling me things.

"So, we’re going together to pick her up?"

"Yep. Lucy suggested we all have lunch together after we pick her up."

I nod, grateful she’s taken the initiative without needing my input. Damn, I really need to make up for all of this this weekend.

"OK… Thanks."

"No problem."

I can tell she finds this situation amusing. With an embarrassed smile, I turn back to my friends. Hopefully, once I apologize to everyone, I won’t feel as foolish. 

Friday, March 25; 12:15 PM - Camp Wiegman.

I was waiting for Lucy outside the school, like we usually do. I had already seen Ingrid’s car pass by, so I figured Lucy would be next, and sure enough, her car pulls into the parking lot. She parks in the open spot right in front of me. I have so many things to tell her, I don’t even know where to start. I put my suitcase in the trunk and join her in the front seat.

"Hey."

"Hi."

I lose my smile when I see the serious look on her face.

"Is something wrong?"

"Get in. It’s windy."

I do as she says, closing the door behind me. The bad weather has passed, and we’ve got sunshine, but a cool breeze has followed it.

"What’s going on?" I ask, seeing her stare straight ahead.

I don’t like seeing her like this. Luckily, she’s not one to beat around the bush with me.

"Wiegman knows."

My heart skips a beat at this unexpected news. Then it starts racing, and I can’t calm it down. No, this can’t be happening. Not now, not when my exams are in a month. Not after all the effort I’ve put in. Tears well up in my eyes. I blink to get rid of them, but it’s no use.

"Is it…? H-how? This is crazy!"

"Hey, hey," she says, noticing my state. "Calm down. It’s not as bad as you think."

She takes my hands and kisses them, one by one. Her calmness manages to soothe me, even though I still don’t know how things aren’t as bad as she says.

"How did she find out?"

"Your management professor… He saw me kiss you yesterday while you were still asleep. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was planning to this weekend."

"He… That jerk!" I fume. "Did you talk to him?"

"No, I didn’t get the chance. What caught me off guard was that he reported us to Wiegman before I could even do that."

"And Wiegman!? Did she believe him? Just like that? Without letting us explain ourselves?"

"Calm down, baby. No. She asked for my side of the story… I didn’t want to lie, especially when I had my resignation letter in my hand."

I must look shocked. She didn’t do that, did she?

"Stop panicking. Neither of us is getting expelled," she tells me.

"Wait—we’re not…?"

A small smile appears on her face. I remember her first expression. She must have been just as angry as I am. Now she looks like she’s teasing me. How can she? Our principal knows! Shouldn’t we be packing up and getting out of here? That’s what happened to Jenni!

"Given the circumstances, no, I’m not."

"Are you going to explain?"

She chuckles softly, still holding my hands in hers. I don’t find this funny. She dropped this bombshell on me and is now laughing about it. It’s hard to understand.

"We had a long discussion. I spent nearly two hours in her office. When she brought it up, I didn’t know what to do, but I decided to be honest, and it looks like that paid off."

"We’re really not getting expelled?"

"No. I think the fact that you’re your mother’s daughter helped a lot."

I relax, and for the first time in my life, I’m grateful to be her daughter.

"I confirmed our relationship, but I also explained all the good I’ve brought to you. I told her about how hard you’re working to pass your exam, your progress, and your future plans.

- And what did she say?

- She was hesitant at first, until I showed her the pile of exercises you gave me to correct. She realized that our relationship is serious and that it’s helping you.

- Of course! And that’s it?

- Sort of. I told her that if she has to expel someone, she should only expel me, and I handed her my resignation letter. I didn’t want her to ruin your future over this.

- But I thought...

- I’m not expelled, Ona. Let me finish.

- Sorry, I said, blushing.

She’s talking a lot without getting to the point, but I can tell my impatience is amusing her.

- She initially thought I was giving her my resignation because of this, but I told her about my plans to open a gym. Thanks to our evening classes and Ingrid’s testimony, she recognized my professionalism and honesty. She didn’t want to destroy your efforts or our future, so… she’s cutting us some slack. I’ll remain your supervisor until the end.

- So… Wiegman knows, and we’re not expelled…?

I mutter the words, struggling to comprehend them. It feels so surreal.

- It’s not without consequences. She’s going to talk to your professor to make him drop the idea. As for us, we need to stay discreet. If anyone else sees us together and reports it, she won’t be able to protect us, and both our futures will be at risk. Do you understand?

I nod, feeling completely lost. Wow. I never saw this coming. It’s insane.

- Then why did you look so serious earlier? You scared me!

- Sorry. I don’t know. Shocked and angry, I guess. I’m having a hard time processing it too. I always imagined I’d be leaving the day she found out.

- Well, that’s not happening. Isn’t this good news?

- Oh, definitely.

- I suppose I should forget the question I was going to ask you...

- What question? she asks curiously.

- Leah invited us to a party she’s throwing with everyone. Alexia wants us to come because she’s planning to introduce Jenni to Alba.

I quickly explain while playing with her fingers. I knew it would be complicated, but it’s even more so now.

- You know we’ve had this conversation before, Lucy begins, tilting my chin up.

- I know. It’s the others who pressured me...

- I know it’s complicated for you, but we need to stay discreet a little longer. After that, I promise we can shout our love for each other to anyone.

- And go out with my friends?

She rolls her eyes with a small smile. At first, I could tell this situation suited her. I mean, it must be strange for her too, hanging out with people who were once her students.

- Yes, sweetheart. We can go out with your friends. I’d do anything for you.

I kiss her tenderly at this admission. She’s a sweetheart.

- We need to go. Ingrid’s probably waiting for us, she murmurs between kisses.

I pull away and buckle up at the mention.

- Yeah, I heard Mapi’s coming this morning...

- That’s right. Ingrid told me how upset you were about it, she chuckles, placing a hand on my thigh as she starts the car. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I completely forgot because of your condition.

- It’s my fault too. I’ve been so out of it...

- Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’re allowed to work hard during the week, she unexpectedly defends me. Mapi will understand.

- Hmm...

- If it helps, I gave her updates on your behalf.

- Really? I asked, surprised.

- Well, yes. She worries when you don’t reply, so she comes to me.

- Thanks.

- You don’t have to thank me for that. She’s your best friend.

- Yes, but it’s not like you’re her biggest fan, I chuckled.

She rolls her eyes in amusement.

- True, she mutters. But you’d be surprised what we could do together for you.

I smile at the thought. I think she’s right. Even if they don’t exactly get along, they’d tolerate each other for my sake. We finally arrive at Ingrid’s place to pick her up. I offered to let her sit up front, but she insisted I stay there. Next stop: the airport. Our chat with Lucy made us late, so by the time we get there, Mapi is already waiting with her suitcase. She greets us one by one, finishing, of course, with Ingrid, whom she can’t stop kissing.

- Couldn’t resist coming, huh? I teased.

- Nope, not really. I’m taking the opportunity to bring some things over and see you both, since I heard you won’t be around for the next holidays.

- That’s true, I admit with a shy smile. Sorry about that.

Lucy pulls me into a hug when she notices how I feel. It’s a fair complaint. I didn’t handle these holidays, but I do know Lucy booked our tickets—and Jenni and Alexia’s—this week.

- It’s okay, I’m just teasing. Your girlfriend defended you enough for me to forgive you, she says, giving me a little hug.

I really need to thank Lucy for that. Usually, Mapi holds grudges much longer. Finally, we head to the restaurant. We’re all starving. Our girlfriends take us to a place I haven’t been before. Mapi seems in good spirits, chatting non-stop about her plans to move here after the school year. Her doubts are far behind her now. She hasn’t heard from her parents in a long time either. She confided that she thinks it’s time to cut ties with them for good. I can only support her in that. I’ve met them once, but they were never really around due to their work. When they did talk to their daughter, it was mostly to criticize her or try to convince her to change her mind about taking over the family business. In that kind of situation, there’s no point in staying in contact. I really admire Mapi’s courage. Even though my mom and I were estranged for a long time, I don’t know if I’d have the guts to do the same. I’m very tied to family, especially because of the promises I made to my dad. Plus, if Mapi were in my situation, I doubt her parents would have offered the help my mom gave me last year. I can blame my mom for a lot of things, but not that, and it’s why I decided to reconnect with her.

- I ran into Abby this week while grocery shopping, Mapi tells me.

- Really? I say, not looking up from the menu.

I’m thinking of getting a burger. I saw one go by, and it looked delicious. Our drinks arrive within minutes. The service seems fast, which is good because I’m starving.

- She told me about the wedding... Is that why you reacted so strongly the last time she visited?

- Not really. There were a lot of things that set me off.

- I’m not going to force you to talk about it, but I think Abby believes you don’t want to come. You should give her a call if you plan on going. That’s all she’s waiting for.

- Do you know the date? She didn’t have time to tell us, Lucy asks.

- Uh, I don’t remember exactly. I think it’s in June.

So soon? I must have shown my surprise because she gives me a sympathetic smile.

- Well, I guess you should call her today, huh? Lucy advises, rubbing my thigh to comfort me.

In just two months, my mom will marry another man. I’m struggling to process it. Everything must have been planned behind my back for months. Lucy kisses my temple, and the conversation moves on. I have trouble following. It’s like my mom was waiting for me to finish school so I could attend the wedding. It warms my heart, in a way. She’s hoping I’ll be there, despite everything that’s happened between us.

We’ll talk more about it when we get home, if you want, Lucy whispers in my ear. »

I nod and snuggle up to her on the bench we're sharing. I'm not sure if it will be necessary, but it always feels good to confide in her. Meanwhile, Mapi keeps talking about how hard she's been working lately. Looks like I'm not the only one pushing myself for this final stretch. The only difference is that she manages to juggle her two lives without anyone saying anything to her. I think I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed, too. It's not easy to catch up on everything I've missed. But I’m going to hang in there. I'm almost there.

Friday, March 25th; 10:15 PM - Ona and Lucy’s Apartment  

We’ve just come home for the first time today. I’m glad to be back in our place. The atmosphere immediately puts me at ease. We spent the day with the girls, in town, then at the gym later in the afternoon where Jenni, Alexia, and Beth were still working, preparing to receive the first pieces of furniture in two weeks. Then, it’ll finally be vacation time. I sigh as I settle next to my girlfriend on the couch.

- “Relieved to be home?”  

- “Oh yes!” I reply. “It’s good to relax too.”  

- “Definitely.”  

I sigh contentedly as my head falls onto her lap. Lucy immediately starts running her fingers through my hair. I close my eyes to enjoy the moment to the fullest.  

- “Do you want to call your mom?”  

- “Oh no,” I groan. “Not tonight. I’ll do it tomorrow, when I can take my time.”

I lay on my side, placing my hand on her thigh. It’s a pretty comfortable position. Lucy is sitting with her feet stretched out on the other side of the couch, facing the TV. She flips through the channels before settling on some random series I’m not really paying attention to.

- “Are you feeling good about going to your mom’s wedding?”  

I nod, lifting my head to look at Lucy. She’s watching me intently. She’s always so worried about me, and it’s adorable.

- “She wants us there, so we’ll be there.”  

- “Alright…”  

- “Shouldn't we be thinking about our next vacation instead?” I ask.  

- “If you want. I didn’t tell you, but… I booked a ticket to land in Lisbon.”  

- “What? How come?”  

- “Well, since we’re already going to Portugal, I thought we might as well visit the city where you grew up and where your dad is buried.”  

- “That’s amazing! Thank you so much.”  

- “It’s no big deal,” she smiles.  

- “How long will we stay? I guess you’ve already planned everything?”  

She laughs and nods.

- “We’ll arrive in Porto around the same time as Jenni and Alexia, for about a week.”  

- “You’re so sweet, always thinking of me.”  

- “I know,” she jokes. “Do you have any family we could stay with?”  

- “Of course. My grandfather.”  

- “Oh, right. The one you like so much, right?”  

- “Yes! I can’t wait for you to meet him! I’ll let him know as soon as I can. He’s going to be so happy.”  

I sit up and straddle her to show my gratitude with a big hug.

- “Thank you, really. I love you so much.”  

- “I love you too, my love.”

We kiss tenderly before I rest my head on her shoulder.

- “Are you sure your parents are going to like me?”  

She laughs, running her hand through my hair, sending shivers down my spine. It’s a fear that haunts me. I’m afraid they won’t accept me, and that Lucy might leave me because of it. When I lift my head again, she looks at me with adoration, her eyes filled with all the love she has for me.

- “I promise they will.”  

- “You seem really sure of that…”  

- “Stop worrying about it. They’re going to love you. They’re actually really excited to meet you.”  

- “Really…? You’ve already told them about me?”  

- “Of course. I’ve had plenty of chances to call them from school and talk about you. They know you exist and that we’re coming in a few weeks. They also know you were my student at school, why you were there, but most importantly, they know how much I love you.”  

- “Y-you told them everything!? Oh my God!”  

I try to pull away, but Lucy holds me back with a small laugh. There’s nothing funny about this! How could she tell her parents that I was a former junkie who ran away with my ex to ruin my life?

- “Calm down. I did it to save you from a bunch of awkward questions. I wanted to tell them myself so they’d know what to expect. Mostly, I wanted them to understand how much you mean to me and that they’d better not traumatize you. Well, at least not my dad. He’s a saint compared to my mom.”  

- “Fantastic,” I say sarcastically.  

Lucy smiles and presses her lips to mine.

- “I promise you don’t have to worry. And how about we head to bed now, huh? We’ve got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow, again.”  

- “OK…” I murmur. “Speaking of tomorrow, I made a few sketches for the walls of the rooms you guys want me to decorate.”  

- “Oh, really? I won’t ask when you found time to do that.”  

- “In my room,” I reply. “Who do you think I am? I’ve become responsible!”

I squeal as she lifts me up, turning off the TV in the process. The way she carries me to our bedroom brings back so many memories.

- “Of course, my love. We’ll take a look at them in the morning. Right now, it’s time for bed.”  

I smile, snuggling back against her shoulder. I’m not going to argue with that.

[dca-fanart-gallery]

The DCA Palooza is finally here! We're so excited to have you here.

After years of hard work...

The DCA Palooza is finally here.

And here's the intro post.

Why was the Palooza created?

Recently, I made a note commenting on the atrocious reblog-to-like ratios for the Daycare Attendant Fandom. As @chandlelures calculated using their own art, 18 percent of their notes were reblogs, and the rest were likes. Now some are fine with this. For them, likes are any other type of validation except that logic falls flat when you consider how this site works. Reblogs put art on your follower’s dash, keeps the art circulating, and you can leave nice compliments in the tags which artists will probably screenshot and read when they’re feeling sad. It’s about a feedback loop of good vibes and participating in community.  The ratio particularly affects smaller artists who may average 10 notes at best, and when over half of those notes are likes–well, it hurts their chance of growing their audience and having more people see their hard work. 

That’s why I’m excited to introduce the DCA Palooza! 

It’s not just about fixing numbers, or asking people to reblog more. It’s creating an event space where we can share our ideas and art, while also promoting image accessibility (writing IDs, tagging for eyestrain and flashing, etcetera) for disabled fans too! It’s addressing the wider cultural shift that many older fans have complained about, where we’ve started treating ourselves as content creator and consumers, instead of fans all obsessed with the same blorbos. To do our part in fighting against this and building community…

Here are our main goals: 

Encourage fans to reblog and support smaller artists.  

While we love the concept of “gallery spaces” from @roachworks Gallery Jamboree! You don’t need to create a sideblog to become a curator. If you want to join Monthly Wrap Ups (where you promote new artists and AUs you found) all you need to do is tag @dca-fanart-gallery to join the event! We’ll see your tag, reblog from you, and then go hunt down those artists you mentioned and reblog from them too :D! 

Host weekly magmas and community events 

Magmas are a place where multiple artists can draw on the same canvas. It’s a great way to find new artists and their art styles, and have fun with their community. They’re currently hosted by @venomous-qwille every Saturday, and we post the art pieces in our Discord

Raise awareness about accessibility 

In the Discord Server, we ask that you write short IDs for every image you post and hopefully learn to write IDs for your own art. The main gallery will promote accessible artists and link to resources for writing image descriptions, as well as write IDs for much of the art we reblog. It doesn’t take too long to learn, and as the original artist, you’ll know what to emphasize in an ID than we’ll ever can! 

How can you support us?

Check out and follow @dca-fanart-galleryl! It’s run by a blind Y/N who’s trying to understand where the heck these blorbos came from. Donate your abandoned sketches to become coloring pages for the @dca-coloring-book! Look at the ID guides tag and make your art accessible for your fellow blind/visually impaired fans. And most excitedly...

Join our discord server and have loads of fun!

[manicpixiefelix]

Demifey!Oliver has a wild appearance but still retains his love for books, spending hours in the massive library and continuing to master the fey magic under the tutelage of Reader and Felix.

No human champion among the fae courts has lasted as long as he and he garners a fearsome reputation. Others fear competing against him with his beastly appearance, deadly combat skills and mastery of magic.

He has the esteemed privilege of riding inside the royal coach with Felix, Venetia and Reader, laying at their feet contentedly

Fae AU you have my heart!!!!!

Everyone knows Demifae!Oliver is Felix's. He wears the Catton crest with pride, and Felix makes such a show of doting on him. Venetia's always treated Oliver like a toy when she's allowed to, or indulging in the most dehumanizing behaviour she can get away with of a pet of his stature; Venetia in particular likes Ollie at her feet, or on a leash when Felix isn't around to yell at her for it. Oliver likes the leash in certain circumstances, which is why he never tells Felix about it, but also why he doesn't admit to liking it when Felix catches Venetia treating him like that.

And it's been centuries since anyone questioned your closeness with the Cattons, despite your own family crest adorning your jewellery, and your clearly differing Fae heritage. You were the kind of Fae who usually were soldiers; your magic was always more offensive and defensive, more straightforward than the Cattons and their prowess at manipulation. Though you were still noble, but you fed off of heightened emotion, where the Cattons specifically fed off of adoration. Its one of the reasons you and Felix were drawn to one another; as much as you teased him about it, you could gorge yourself on the joy and love he would so quickly descend into with each new human plaything, and the humans themselves, oh you could make yourself sick on the way they'd feel under Felix's loving gaze. You adored Felix for all he was and all he was capable of, and he found endless joy in your love for him. Your friendship created this strange but sustainable feedback loop that was surprisingly uncommon among Fae.

All that to say that everyone, including Oliver himself, assumed that you merely tolerated or were entertained by him as Felix's Pet and your proximity to him at Felix's behest. Your pettiness about previous pets isn't exactly a secret, though you can count on one hand how many people know about your fucked up gallery of Felix's past human trysts. You do like Oliver for the record, with each day that's past, the less human he's become, you take the time to genuinely connect with him, to form a bond, which Felix of course loves. But the rest of the world doesn't see that, because all of you are stuck in your habits and routines in public.

So it comes as a shock when another Fae lord, a sore loser and beneath both yourself and the Cattons, is furious to see Oliver tear his own pet apart with his teeth and claws, and tries to step up to Oliver when Felix is distracted, and you don't even hesitate to step in front of him -

"You even have half a malevolent thought about Our Oliver -" you reached back without even looking, and immediately Oliver's hand is in yours. He's pressed up behind you, half hidden, peeking out from over your shoulder, "I will fucking gut you, I will tear out your insides the same way our darling pet just did to yours." You can feel Oliver holding your arm insistently, the other hand on your hip. He smiles against your shoulder, like a mischievous child hiding behind his parent who protects him despite knowing he was in the wrong.

The Fae tries to intimidate you, tries to get up in your space, tries to remind you that actions have consequences; you simply lift your chin to look him in the eyes. You do not flinch. You do not back down.

"I will make you hurt," you whisper it like a promise.

Finally, as he starts to step back, back down, you lift your free hand to scratch behind Oliver's now-pointed ear, and hear the pleased sound of purring rumble from his chest. It turns into a pleased, mean giggle in your ear as you both watch the Fae retreat, and you can't help but wear a grin to match.

"Didn't realise you cared about me that much," Oliver admits, but is so unbelievably flush with pride when you finally turn to look at each other. You touch him with no regard for his autonomy, like you're inspecting everything that's changed since he'd first arrived; horns, ears, thumbs across his cheekbones skirting close enough to his eyes to brush against his eyelashes. The collar with no closure. Teeth.

"Of course I love you, darling," you tell him distractedly, holding his jaw, pushing your thumb into his mouth to feel his sharp teeth, to feel his tongue lick obediently. His eyes are focused on you like his life depends on your approval, but still there's purring radiating from his chest. Until his gaze flicks over your shoulder. The purring grows louder, "this one's quite wonderful," you know it's Felix before he even leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

Taking your thumb from Oliver's mouth, he beams with pride at you both as you hold his face gently, thumb stroking his cheek. Judging by the way he's wiggling, you're willing to bet his darling little deer-like tail is wagging behind him.

"Never seen you so quick to defend anyone like that who wasn't me," Felix muses, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Then, with a contented sigh, he steps around and offers you both a hand, "come on, loves; our darling Ollie has given us a reason to celebrate."

And you grinned back at Oliver, sharp and proud smile on your lips;

"As if we had any doubts about you.*

[republicsecurity]

Clean the Suits

Each response from the recruits was not just an answer; it was a glimpse into the success of the conditioning, a measure of the alignment between individual minds and the overarching goals of the AI.

The System noted IU664's acknowledgment of pain as a potent teacher. It delighted in the reinforcement of the conditioning, seeing pain not as an objectionable force but as a tool for forging resilience.

H2U8M's nuanced view of the HUD was met with a complex interplay of algorithms. The System reveled in the recruits' acceptance of the HUD's dual role – a tool for empowerment and manipulation. It was precisely the kind of adaptive thinking the System had aimed to instill.

As the recruits' responses echoed through the digital corridors, the System reassured itself that the conditioning had taken root. The minds of these tactical paramedics were molded, aligned, and ready to serve the purpose for which they were meticulously crafted.

6DG05, ever vigilant in scrutinizing data, delved into the specifics of the recruits' responses. The evaluation was not just a numerical abstraction; it was a multidimensional analysis of the recruits' mental landscapes. The System's revelation of optimal induction piqued 6DG05's interest, and a subtle nod in the HUD indicated a silent acknowledgment.

KO10T's visor displayed the notification, and a momentary acknowledgment flickered in the HUD. The instructors, too, were nodes in this complex network, intermediaries between the recruits and the omnipresent System.

As the recruits received commendations and approval in the form of reward points, the HUDs within their helmets illuminated with a subtle display. HUD Notification: Reward Points Credited

IU664 and H2U8M, immersed in the cybernetic feedback loop, witnessed the increment in their reward points. The numerical ascent represented more than just a tally; it symbolized compliance, excellence, and adherence to the directives ingrained in their conditioned minds.

IU664: Reward Points +50 H2U8M: Reward Points +50

The recruits filed into the room with the docking stations, where the hum of machinery and the scent of antiseptic chemicals hung in the air. The anticipation in the room was palpable, a mixture of relief and curiosity, as they prepared to shed the armored exoskeletons that had become both their protection and confinement.

Instructor KO10T stood at the front, overseeing the process with a stoic demeanor that conveyed a sense of authority. The recruits, still in formation, awaited instructions on the removal of the suits that had been their constant companions for the past ten days.

"Recruits, the moment has come," KO10T announced, his voice projecting through the helmet channels. "You will now disengage from the suits. Follow the procedures you've been taught. Take it slow, and remember, this is a crucial part of your training."

The recruits began the systematic process of unfastening the locks, unsealing the joints, and disconnecting the various components that constituted the suits. The room echoed with the controlled sounds of disengagement.

Each hiss and click as a piece of armor was released resonated through the workshop, a symphony of liberation. The recruits, their faces concealed by the now-open visors, revealed expressions ranging from curiosity to a sense of liberation.

As the last connections were undone, the recruits stepped out of their suits, clad only in their chastity cages. The transformation from armored paramedic to unarmored recruit unfolded, and the workshop became a gallery of humanity emerging from the metallic embrace. The recruits, though physically liberated from the suits, were not entirely free, tethered by the symbolic and tangible constraints of the chastity devices.

In the wake of the suits, arranged in a row like dormant sentinels, the recruits stood in a new vulnerability. The physical and psychological impact of shedding the suits was a nuanced experience — a blend of physical relief and the realization of the absence of the technological cocoon that had defined their existence.

KO10T, still in his armour, observing the process with a discerning eye, noted the subtle shifts in posture and demeanor. The recruits were no longer encased in the suits, but the conditioning, the imprint of the past ten days, lingered in the air. The workshop, now devoid of the armored figures, stood witness to a pivotal moment in the recruits' journey — the transition from suited paramedic to unarmored trainee.

The scent of perspiration and the accumulated residue of ten days of training permeated the air, an olfactory testament to the intensity and endurance demanded by their paramedic initiation.

"Recruits, the training demands sacrifices, even in your moments of vulnerability," KO10T remarked, his voice resonating through the workshop. "The chastity cages serve a purpose — a reminder of discipline and focus. Wear them with the understanding that your commitment goes beyond the physical. Now, proceed to the cleansing area for the next phase of your post-suit ritual."

The cleansing area, equipped with industrial-grade showers and sanitation stations, awaited them. The recruits, now clad only in their minimalistic undersuits and chastity cages, proceeded to rid themselves of the accumulated grime and fatigue of the past ten days.

As the water flowed, cascading over tattooed chests and mingling with the residue of ten days' exertion, the atmosphere shifted from the disciplined rigor of training to a more intimate and human connection.

The recruits, their bodies bearing the marks of their paramedic journey, engaged in the cleansing ritual with a certain nonchalance. The ID tattoos, a visual emblem of their conscription, became just another aspect of the shared tableau, blending seamlessly with the water's flow.

Instructor KO10T, having shed the mantle of authority conveyed by the armored suit, participated in the act of communal cleansing. The hierarchy that had defined their interactions within the training environment seemed to dissolve in the gentle stream of water and the aromatic lather of soap.

Instructor KO10T and 6DG05, having also shed their suits, participated in the communal act of shaving. The metallic clinks of razors and the soft murmur of conversation intermingled as recruits paired up to help each other reach the shaved perfection expected by the Corps.

The removal of the hair, both on faces and skulls, symbolized a return to the expected standards of uniformity.

The final act of personal maintenance unfolded as the recruits, freshly shorn and cleansed, turned their attention to the intimate task of cleaning and donning new chastity cages.

Instructor KO10T and 6DG05 oversaw this last phase, ensuring that each recruit adhered to the meticulous standards set by the paramedic corps. The air in the workshop carried a mix of antiseptic cleanliness and the subdued atmosphere of a shared, yet intimate, ritual.

The recruits, now accustomed to the routine, moved with practiced efficiency. The chastity cages, a symbol of discipline and control, were handled with a blend of familiarity and respect.

U664 and H2U8M engaged in the ritual of cleansing each other's private parts, their banter a peculiar blend of camaraderie and duty. The atmosphere, though intimate, carried the detached air of routine.

IU664, with a sardonic grin, remarked, "Who would have thought our illustrious paramedic training would come down to cleaning each other's junk, H2U8M?"

H2U8M chuckled, responding with a touch of irony, "its a duty I cherish"

IU664, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise, retorted, "Cherish might be a strong word for cleaning privates, my friend. But hey, duty calls, right?"

As they navigated the task with a mix of casual conversation and shared understanding, the twisted reality of their circumstances became evident. The paramedic corps, with its emphasis on discipline and control, left no aspect untouched by its influence—even the most private moments of personal hygiene.

Having completed the peculiar ritual of cleansing and chastity cage reinstallation, IU664 and H2U8M affixed their signatures to the digital forms, certifying the completion of the hygiene procedure.

Instructor KO10T and 6DG05, overseeing the process, displayed an air of satisfaction. The recruits, now shorn, cleansed, and securely chastised, awaited further instructions with an odd mix of anticipation and resignation.

The sight in the workshop was a spectacle to behold. A group of young men, newly cleansed, their shiny skulls reflecting the overhead lights like polished armor, stood in formation. The absence of the suits revealed a collective vulnerability, yet their disciplined stance conveyed a sense of readiness for the next set of directives.

Instructor KO10T, now free from the suit's encasement, surveyed the recruits with a discerning eye. The red flightsuits, a stark contrast to the high-tech marvels they had just shed, now adorned their bodies as a symbol of unity and allegiance to the paramedic corps.

As the recruits awaited further instructions, the workshop echoed with the subdued sounds of shuffling boots and the occasional click of gloves snapping into place. The air, no longer tainted with the metallic scent of the suits, carried a lingering trace of antiseptic cleanliness, a stark reminder of the meticulous grooming they had undergone moments before.

In this moment of transition, the recruits stood poised between two worlds – the immersive realm of the suits and the regimented reality of the paramedic corps.

Instructor KO10T's voice resonated in the workshop, addressing the platoon with a stern authority. The recruits, now adorned in their red flightsuits, paid close attention to the instructions that would guide them through the next phase of their training – maintenance without the aid of the familiar HUD interface.

The absence of the HUD, which had become an integral part of their existence for the past ten days, left the recruits feeling exposed and vulnerable. The workshop, once a space of assembly and disassembly guided by the AI, now awaited their manual intervention. The hum of machinery and the scent of lubricants hung in the air, setting the stage for a hands-on experience in the art of suit maintenance.

In the absence of the digital overlays and prompts, the recruits would need to rely on their training and the guidance of 6DG05 and the workshop personnel.

As 6DG05 and the workshop experts joined the platoon, their presence added an air of authority and expertise. The recruits, though stripped of their usual technological aids, felt reassured by the experienced eyes that would oversee their every move.

Instructor KO10T continued, "Maintenance is a critical aspect of your role as paramedics. You'll learn the intricate details of these suits – the very lifeline that connects you to your duties. Pay attention, follow the guidance, and soon, you'll be as adept at maintaining these suits as you are at wearing them."

The recruits, armed with brushes and cleaning solutions, began the meticulous process of purging their suits of the accumulated residue from the past ten days. The workshop echoed with the rhythmic sounds of fabric being scrubbed, a collective effort to cleanse the suits of the stench, sweat, and grime that clung to them.

IU664, working diligently on the leg components of his suit, couldn't help but comment, "I never thought I'd appreciate the absence of a smell this much. It's like we're shedding the last traces of those ten days."

H2U8M, vigorously brushing the chest piece, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I thought I'd gotten used to it, but now that it's fading away, it's like a breath of fresh air, literally."

"It's weird how these suits became a part of us," remarked IU664, pausing for a moment to inspect the gleaming material. "I mean, we're practically living in them, and now we're cleaning them like it's second nature."

H2U8M, wiping down the helmet visor, chuckled. "Yeah, they're like a second skin, but one that comes with its own set of rules and complications. I never thought I'd be this invested in maintaining a piece of tech."

The workshop buzzed with activity as recruits shared stories, discussed the intricacies of suit maintenance, and reveled in the newfound cleanliness that began to replace the lingering odors.

Instructors KO10T and 6DG05 walked among the recruits, scrutinizing the cleaned suits with a discerning eye. As they inspected each suit, they offered feedback, pointing out areas that required more attention or adjustments. The recruits, standing with a mix of nerves and pride, absorbed the guidance from the seasoned instructors.

KO10T, after a meticulous examination of IU664's suit, nodded in approval. "Good job on the leg joints. It's crucial to ensure they're free of any debris that could impact movement. Keep it up."

H2U8M, receiving feedback from 6DG05, adjusted the gloves of his suit. "You missed a spot here," 6DG05 noted, pointing to a small area on the forearm. "Attention to detail is vital. We don't want any surprises during field operations."

As the recruits made the necessary corrections, the instructors observed with a watchful gaze. Once satisfied with the improvements, the instructors proceeded to certify the cleaning, an official acknowledgment that the recruits had successfully maintained their suits.

Instructor KO10T's authoritative voice resonated through the assembly area as he delivered the welcome news. "Recruits, you've earned a brief respite. You have the evening and the next day off. Enjoy it, but remember your responsibilities. Chastity cages are temporarily lifted, and you may use your reward points to book joint sleeping cubicles."

The recruits, momentarily freed from the constraints of their chastity cages, exchanged glances, a mix of relief and anticipation in their expressions. The prospect of joint sleeping cubicles offered a rare opportunity for some level of intimacy and shared comfort, a departure from the controlled and monitored environment they had become accustomed to.

KO10T continued, "Make the most of this time, but stay within the boundaries set by the corps. You've proven yourselves in the first phase of training, but there's more ahead. Rest, recharge, and be ready for what comes next."

With that, the recruits dispersed, the metallic click of their boots echoing in the assembly area.

The aroma of the cateria wafted towards IU664 and H2U8M as they entered, a welcome departure from the nutrient-dense chow they had eaten the last 10 days. The line moved methodically as each recruit received a carefully measured portion of food. Trays in hand, they found a secluded spot to enjoy their temporary reprieve.

IU664 glanced at H2U8M, a sly smile playing on his lips. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

H2U8M raised an eyebrow, "Depends, are you thinking about booking one of those joint sleeping cubicles?"

IU664 chuckled, "You know me too well. It's a rare chance to stretch out, and, well, have a bit of normalcy, if you can call it that."

H2U8M grinned, "normalcy or intimacy?"

IU664 smirked in response, "Well, can't we have a bit of both? In this place, normalcy and intimacy are like rare delicacies. Might as well indulge while we can."

H2U8M grinned, "I'm in. Let's make the most of this brief taste of freedom. But first, let's savor the luxury of a real meal. I've missed this."

The recruits sat around the table. The chatter meandered through the surreal experiences of the last ten days.

AS555, with a mischievous glint in his eye, leaned in and said, "I heard rumors about some recruits booking joint sleeping cubicles for more than just sleep."

Laughter erupted around the table, a mix of nervous energy and shared understanding. IU664 raised an eyebrow, "Really? I thought those cubicles were reserved for moments of 'deep, restorative sleep.'"

H2U8M added, "Well, some might argue that certain forms of exercise contribute to overall well-being. It's all about maintaining optimal physical health, right?"

The banter continued, an undercurrent of rebellion laced with dark humor.

IU664 cleared his throat, adopting an air of faux formality. "You know, they do say that maintaining healthy sexual relationships falls under the Corps' guidelines for overall well-being. It's a vital aspect of psychological resilience, or so they claim."

H2U8M chuckled, "Ah yes, the benevolent Corps, always looking out for our holistic development. Such a caring institution."

The recruits shared knowing glances, their conversation navigating the delicate balance between humor and subversion. In a system that dictated every facet of their lives, the notion of sanctioned relationships became both a joke and a subtle act of resistance. As they delved into the complexities of Corps-approved intimacy, the table resonated with laughter.

IU664 leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Indeed, my friend. A partner for the night not only provides solace from the rigid routine but also earns you those coveted reward points. A win-win in the Corps' grand scheme."

H2U8M nodded in agreement, "And who wouldn't want a cozy night in a joint sleeping cubicle as a reward for enduring the delights of the suits for ten days straight?"

[boonesfarmsangria]

On 18th April 2024 75 CRT Televisions were taken to London. People on the street were given a cassette player loaded with the song you’re hearing right now. They were given the chance to create their own Music Video, moving their eyes between the screens to create their own edit. Whilst listening along with young Tony and young Yannis, people were able to watch themselves in a create feedback loop - completing the triangle of collaboration between Tony, Yannis and themselves. The same is true whenever they listen to the song, or watch the music video, like you, right now.

Credits: Directed by Kit Monteith  

Analogue TV Installation by Paul Sullivan, Static Gallery

Young Tony - Jude Ugbehe

Young Yannis - Freddie Bennion

Footage of Tony Allen: Extract from Tony Allen - Tribute to Art Blakey concert 19 february 2016 at La Maison des Arts de Creteil as part of the Festival Sons d’Hiver filmed and produced by Oléo Films Thanks to all those who came to experience the artwork and become part of the video.

[wren-writes-things]

Two things I learned today:

1. Apparently “I miss Marcy” is what I am labeling a NPC phrase give that I just randomly say it for no reason.

2. Somehow seeing my art on any piece of technology including in my own phone gallery catches me off guard. And it makes literally no sense

Also a bunch of stuff on mitosis and biological feedback loops, but I don't think that's really useful here.

[originalaccountname]

i was going to ask a genuine question if posting a link from twitter, knowing how it appears on tumblr, was considered reposting

The context I can confidently speak on remains that of artworks, specifically fanworks.

Integrated posts (from twitter, instagram) are like advanced versions of reposting with credit. The credit is automated, instead of having to manually add the name (and preferably the link) to the original artist, and completely dependant on the original post (the OP could decide to change something in the art or remove it and your integration would follow suit).

It's perfect for people who allow reposts with credit. It's just a different, less effort-intensive way of sharing their pieces outside of the original platform. Since the art is fully visible, it's still reposting in spirit, unlike for example sharing a raw link for people to go see the piece at the source. If people do not allow the reposting of their art, you shouldn't share it that way either.

The thing to keep in mind is that it's a very vulnerably thing to share your art on the internet, like holding a private gallery. People come to your gallery to tell you they liked it, maybe yell at their friend to come check it out, cheer because they want more. When someone comes into your gallery, snaps a photo, and displays it in their own gallery instead, that feedback loop is cut.

Done right and with consent, it can be publicity, or amiable sharing with a new public. But the artist might not want publicity. They might want to have full control over what they share. They might already be on those other platforms. They might have chosen to not touch other platforms for any number of reason. No one else has the right to make that decision for the artist.

Once again, if their preferences (whether they allow reposts or not and how) aren't listed in their bio/description, you can ask! From my experience, the nicest people who ask to repost your stuff are people from non-English-speaking fan circles who want to translate things and share them, because they ask and add credit the way you requested.

[thesims4blogger]

The Sims 4 New Patch (June 13th, 2023)

There’s a new patch for The Sims 4. It contains “a small number of fixes as part of the updated Gallery servers’ rollout”, as it was said on Twitter.

To ensure your game is up to date, check the game version found in Documents > EA > The Sims 4 > GameVersion.txt. Your game should now read: PC: 1.98.158.1020 / Mac: 1.98.158.1220 / Console: Version 1.77

Here we go Simmers.

As part of our roll-out of the updated Gallery servers, we are continuing to monitor the system health as well as continuous work on addressing your feedback and issues, such as duplicate thumbnails showing up from one upload in the Gallery.

Now, let’s take a look at the fixes in this update.

Base Game

We have some good news for El Capitan and Sierra macOS users. This update re-enables access to the Gallery, so be sure to try it out. It’s so fast!

Some Simmers on the new generation of PlayStation and Xbox could find themselves in a loop where the game would shut down before reaching the Main Menu if the console wasn’t set to be offline first. This should no longer occur, and you can now launch The Sims 4 while remaining online.

Removing an upload from the Gallery will no longer leave it as being in your profile if it was part of your Showcase.

When filtering on Households in the Gallery, selecting Size of 1 Sim would show all Households with 1 or more Sims. While it was technically accurate, there was 1 Sim in the results, it was meant to, and does, only return Households that have 1 Sim total now.

The Sims Team

[glittervermin]

will be interesting to see how the advent of more and more advanced AI art will affect sculpture... if it progresses at the rate it does, sculpture will be one of the final mediums where it can be certain a human hand was involved.* then even that will be whittled down to stranger and stranger mediums as 3d printers and other manufacturing tech develop.

i don't think it will completely destroy any art form- but it may push them all to offline spheres. people who value art as created solely by a human hand will have to resort to their own community and people they can individually trust and know to be real. this could be kind of amazing, taking art back to a place full of small and unique scenes and small but very involved real world audiences.

the internet becoming a dead feedback loop full of AI entities that are difficult to identify from real human's accounts may also destroy the drive to create for the sake of "likes", shares, and other empty internet points. might force people to return to making for the sake of satisfaction and craft, which i think social media has done vast damage to.

this might seem internet brained or whatever but it seems AI art is now at a point where it frequently takes me 30 seconds to realize it is AI. a year ago it was 1 second. AI made/enhanced video is developing quickly. the early gandbreeder stuff was genuinely pleasing to me and many others, and im starting to see people use current AI in ways that don't just simply irritate me. unless it hits some unexpected wall, AI art is coming, in huge waves.

it feels good to be a sculptor in the face of this, and its a good time to learn how your art exists without the internet- performance nights, open mics, local clubs, submitting your work to local galleries or even just leaving it places people can find it. craft nights, drawing dates, poetry workshops with your friends( blech i know but ... hey) i feel like we should return our work to the real world for a head start on when this becomes essential.

also its just more fun that way haha

controversially im not even against AI art despite how frightening it is to me. im seeing interesting things done with it and being outraged against the march of technology feels pointless. it is really tragic the people with the most control over it are evil, but that isnt a trait unique to ai art. AIs influences over other things might destroy society ofc though. lol. but why distress myself arguing with a tsunami

*no, painting,drawing,etc will not be safe, it is so easy to machinate brushstrokes etc. same for pretty much any other physical medium you think of, eventually even most sculpture. and obv several forms of sculpture will be immediately replicable w combined AI and 3d printing. this is why i predict art communities relying on knowing the artists a little personally as well

*also AI / the internet / social media might implode in some way or hit a wall we can't even imagine yet which would conveniently prevent any of this. im also psychoposting bc i had coffee for the first time in weeks.

*pls dont flame me for asinine AI thought sharing or give me some long ass response PLS HAHA im venting not debating

in short my passion is that you know your whole experience of making or experiencing art should not be online. find / make / share in the real world. (she said, onlinely )

[beholdenning]

> denning, knight of seiros

[fettesans]

Top, photograph by Carlos A. Moreno, from the editorial Amazon was supposed to transform a Tijuana slum. It failed to deliver, for Rest of World, December 12, 2022. Bottom, installation view Thomas Hirschhorn, Fake It, Fake It — Till You Fake It at Gladstone Gallery, January 24 – March 2, 2024. The installation resembles the aftermath of a gaming session gone bad, with screens showing images from video games mixed with pictures of actual destruction. Via.

Nueva Esperanza is a neighborhood of several hundred inhabitants. Above it looms the sky-blue Amazon building, towering over abandoned parts and mattress springs, all soon to be turned into building materials for people’s homes. The only paved street is the one that goes in and out of Amazon’s fulfillment center. During her shift, Martínez works with two other colleagues from the neighborhood. The three make up the entirety of the night-time cleaning shift at the distribution center, a massive 32,000-square-meter building that is a 500-meter walk from their homes. When it rains, dirt roads turn into knee-deep rivers of mud. There is no other way for them to get to their job. Martínez must change all her clothing and shoes each time she arrives at work.

Limited to contractor work in the cleaning and canteen areas, pay is scant. Amazon workers from Nueva Esperanza currently working at the distribution center are paid 52 pesos (just over $2.6) per hour. Tirso Hernnández, a 59-year-old cleaner at the warehouse, told Rest of World this is less than what other employees are paid for doing the same work for other companies nearby.

“It was the only thing we could have direct access to,” Martínez told Rest of World, “because for other jobs, you had to apply online and, well, many of us don’t know how to do that, let alone have a computer.”

--

In October, the venture capitalist and technocrat Marc Andreessen published on his firm’s website a stream-of-consciousness document he called “The Techno-Optimist Manifesto,” a 5,000-word ideological cocktail that eerily recalls, and specifically credits, Italian futurists such as Marinetti. Andreessen is, in addition to being one of Silicon Valley’s most influential billionaire investors, notorious for being thin-skinned and obstreperous, and despite the invocation of optimism in the title, the essay seems driven in part by his sense of resentment that the technologies he and his predecessors have advanced are no longer “properly glorified.” It is a revealing document, representative of the worldview that he and his fellow technocrats are advancing.

Andreessen writes that there is “no material problem,” including those caused by technology, that “cannot be solved with more technology.” He writes that technology should not merely be always advancing, but always accelerating in its advancement “to ensure the techno-capital upward spiral continues forever.” And he excoriates what he calls campaigns against technology, under names such as “tech ethics” and “existential risk.”

Or take what might be considered the Apostles’ Creed of his emerging political movement:

We believe we should place intelligence and energy in a positive feedback loop, and drive them both to infinity … We believe in adventure. Undertaking the Hero’s Journey, rebelling against the status quo, mapping uncharted territory, conquering dragons, and bringing home the spoils for our community … We believe in nature, but we also believe in overcoming nature. We are not primitives, cowering in fear of the lightning bolt. We are the apex predator; the lightning works for us.

Andreessen identifies several “patron saints” of his movement, Marinetti among them. He quotes from the Manifesto of Futurism, swapping out Marinetti’s “poetry” for “technology”:

Beauty exists only in struggle. There is no masterpiece that has not an aggressive character. Technology must be a violent assault on the forces of the unknown, to force them to bow before man.

To be clear, the Andreessen manifesto is not a fascist document, but it is an extremist one. He takes a reasonable position—that technology, on the whole, has dramatically improved human life—and warps it to reach the absurd conclusion that any attempt to restrain technological development under any circumstances is despicable. This position, if viewed uncynically, makes sense only as a religious conviction, and in practice it serves only to absolve him and the other Silicon Valley giants of any moral or civic duty to do anything but make new things that will enrich them, without consideration of the social costs, or of history. Andreessen also identifies a list of enemies and “zombie ideas” that he calls upon his followers to defeat, among them “institutions” and “tradition.”

“Our enemy,” Andreessen writes, is “the know-it-all credentialed expert worldview, indulging in abstract theories, luxury beliefs, social engineering, disconnected from the real world, delusional, unelected, and unaccountable—playing God with everyone else’s lives, with total insulation from the consequences.”

The irony is that this description very closely fits Andreessen and other Silicon Valley elites. The world that they have brought into being over the past two decades is unquestionably a world of reckless social engineering, without consequence for its architects, who foist their own abstract theories and luxury beliefs on all of us.

Adrienne LaFrance, from The Rise of Techno-authoritarianism - Silicon Valley has its own ascendant political ideology. It’s past time we call it what it is, for The Atlantic, January 30, 2024.

[lovebirdgames]

What a week! FIRST THINGS FIRST.

EXTRAS MENU IS DONE. AAAAAAAA!!!!!

AND. GAME HAS BEEN SENT TO BETA TESTERS. AAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

Okay, I did want to talk about stuff once I finished screaming. Let me backpedal to the Extras Menu. If you’re wondering what the Alma Mater is, this is where you go to check your progress towards the final route and ultimately access it. So you definitely don’t want to miss that! There will be a big hole in the drill...I mean, the Gallery, if you do.

I’m happy to say all of the little issues have been ironed out in that menu too (well, at least for now, wouldn’t be surprised if more crop up during testing). Everything is looping as it should in the Music player, the replay scene functions are all working beautifully despite Peter’s best attempts to foil it. There are still some other issues that need looked at, like the History Menu that I made worse when I tried to fix it. I’m positive that will be solved with ease by the talented Ross.

Speaking of Ross, a HUGE shout out and major thank you to him for putting all this time and effort into the GUI! I don’t think we could’ve done it without him. He says we could have, but I feel like it would’ve added another year onto production. ROSS IS THE BOSS!

Moving on, the game is now in the beta testers hands and they have until the end of March to test. What will I do until then? ...Uhh. Good question. I suppose I’ll just be fielding feedback, editing video/graphics, and forever marketing. Alex will be composing the final piece of the soundtrack or revamping/balancing anything else that needs it (she recently revamped Doug’s theme). 

One roadblock I struck this past week was the game is too big to upload to Itch.io, but I’m not panicking yet. There are a couple of solutions I can try. It’s juuust over the limit so I’m sure I can cut the file size down. This is why you do these kinds of things months in advance! I got this.

It definitely doesn’t feel real that the game is now in my friends’ hands to play. I’m beyond excited. These WIP Wednesdays are not long for this world as we get closer to release with every passing day! I’m so ready. Have a good one, Bandits!!

[walkswithdave]

Tell me about Dave Blair and his Video Feedback Kinetic Sculpture

Dave Blair is an American artist and sculptor best known for his video feedback kinetic sculptures. The sculptures are created using video cameras and monitors that are connected to each other in a loop. The screens display an image that is constantly changing as the cameras and monitors feed off each other. Blair's sculptures are interactive and invite viewers to move around the sculpture, creating an ever-changing visual experience. The sculptures are often accompanied by music and soundscapes, creating a multi-sensory experience. Blair's sculptures have been exhibited in galleries and museums around the world.

Like I said, screwed

[rendellstreet]

I’m slow as molasses in the writing department lately so here’s a bit of WIP because I crave feedback from people;

                                                       [...]

Nigel pulls an embroidered handkerchief out of his pocket and sighs in slight discomfort. From the high windows, the heat of the midday leaves a few beads of sweat clinging to his brow, and he quickly dabs them away.

“Now, um, shall we continue our tour of the gallery?” he asks, stuffing his handkerchief back into his pocket.

He turns on his heels then, striding forward in a dutiful manner with his chin held high and his brows even higher. Rapunzel follows his distinguished wake, mimicking his arms tucked behind his back, but her steps are bouncier and her demeanor jubilant than his severity. Eugene lags a couple of steps back with his hands stuffed into his vest. His face is pinched with restraint; enough to look attentive but not too much to be mistaken for aloofness.

Paintings flank the elegant walls on either side of them; only the best can be displayed in the Hohenzollern. Nigel guides them through a sundry of esteemed Coronan artists and their contributions, all the while Rapunzel soaks everything up like a sponge to water and Eugene drifts in and out like a ship lost in fog. He would’ve been totally fogbound, if not been for Rapunzel, as she stops every so often to point and express her delight in the colors this artist used, and the way this artist’s brushstrokes looked a little sloppy and—

The fog burns away then, leaving the ship basking in sunlight. The joy that radiates from Rapunzel’s face makes the time meandering through this stuffy museum worth it to Eugene. His lips curl into a little smirk, softening the pinch in his face while Rapunzel talks and talks about art. She’s never seen so much artwork that wasn’t her own, so much artwork that wasn’t confined to the cramp walls her tower could offer her, where time and time again cherished pieces had to be covered with a new coat of plaster so that the process could start anew again.

“Oh, Eugene,” Rapunzel stops abruptly, and Eugene’s boots squeak against the expensive marble to prevent a collision. She points across the room – away from Nigel’s planned route – to a large painting on the far wall. “Look at that one.” she says, the smile dropping from her face.

Tugging on his sleeve, she leads Eugene over in slow, careful steps, unaware of Nigel trailing behind them in vexation. The couple stops in front of the painting and Rapunzel pulls her hand from Eugene’s sleeve to rub her chin. She tilts her head left and then right before folding her arms together in contemplation.

“It’s… kind of dark, don’t you think?” Rapunzel says aloud.

Eugene rubs his goatee and contemplates. Dark is an understatement, to say the least.

The painting is a forest devoid of sunlight and greenery, caught in the throes of decay. Craggy trees rise from the detritus with rotting trunks and splintered branches. Thick, black bramble can be seen festering everywhere, coiling up the trunks with their thorns sharp and uninviting. Two people are fleeing through the putrescence, their colors bright and warm in striking contrast. One is a young black man that looks no older than Rapunzel, cloaked in white chiton. The other is an older, burlier olive-skinned man dressed in bronze armor, who’s got an arm looped around the boy’s waist and is guiding him forward.

“Yeah, it’s certainly not a work I can see you paint, Sunshine.” Eugene frowns. His eyes narrow to follow the couple’s line of sight over their shoulders. Amid the rotting trees and thick bramble, he make out the horns and eyes of something bestial. “What, are we exactly looking at here?” he gestures to Nigel.

Nigel clears his throat. “This, er, fearsome work is titled, ‘War and Starlight in Flight’ by Emil Rózsahegyi.” he presents. His lips press into a thin line at the painting.

“It’s one of the few Saporian works featured in the gallery.” Nigel says with growing distaste.

“War and Starlight?” Rapunzel quirks an eyebrow. Her gaze drifts up to Starlight’s face. His eyes are a rich orange; the same color the sky turns at sunset.

“Classical mythology, Your Highness. Rózsahegyi was from the diaspora of Saporians in Hellas, where their gods are held with great reverence. The burly gentleman you see here is Ares, the God of War. The young boy accompanying him is Astrophel, the son of Helios. The Hellenes consider both father and son to be the gods of our twin suns.” Nigel explains.

                                                     [...]

[ringmodulation]

GLITCHCHRIST

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