#And oh!! If this is about wanting to BUY art instead of who can create it

[moongothic]

I wish AI image creators (and pro-AI image people in general) understood was that there is, in fact, a fundamental difference between artists referencing each others work and a computer (re)generating an image

And that’s respecting the time and dedication that went into creating the piece being referenced to begin with

If an artist uses someone else’s work as inspiration for their own, they have to recreate it from scratch. You can use the composition of a piece, but you still have to draw the whole thing all over again. You can color pick a palette but the shading you have to do on your own. You can study the way someone draws immaculate, fine details, but you still draw every single line with your own hand. And doing all that work makes the person look at what the original artist had done, understand how they made their art, what it took to make it, and learn to respect their effort and dedication even more.

Hell, even if someone traces over another person’s work, without consent and refuses to admit to it (which generally speaking is a dick fucking move), even then the tracer will deep down know the limit of their skills and see what the original artist can do but they can’t (yet).

And these are all things that neither a computer or the person feeding a prompt into the computer will ever do.

AI image creators will never put in the same work and effort to “create” something, and thus they will never understand what it takes for an artist to draw or paint something from scratch.

You told a machine to make a dish, the machine makes a dish based on approximations of what goes into it based on what chefs put into their dishes, and you claim to be the chef that cooked it.

AI images and their creators are inherently disrespectful.

[zooophagous]

So why do you hate the advertising industry?

Hokay so.

Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.

I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.

I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.

Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.

Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.

Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.

I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.

And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.

Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.

Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.

And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.

Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.

It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.

It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.

And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.

Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.

Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.

However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.

I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.

Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.

[aidaronan]

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

[drchucktingle]

Where is the best place to preorder Bury Your Gays? What is of most benefit to you?

i know other types of media have given the trot of preorders a bad way, but for publishing books i cannot even begin to tell you buckaroos HOW IMPORTANT PREORDERS ARE WHEN SUPPORTING AUTHORS YOU CARE ABOUT. i mean HECK preorders are so important i even wrote three dang tinglers about it

basically preorders are what publishers use to determine how much financial backing they will give a book for advertising and book tours and all that, but that is only PART of this way. BOOK STORES also use a preorder equation to determine how much shelf space to give a book. your preorder does not just mean YOU get a book for yourself, but basically means you are making room for someone ELSE to get the book in a store by putting another copy on a shelf

that is why it is better to put in a preorder instead of just saying 'oh i will just remember to buy myself a copy on the day it comes out'

LASTLY preorders are how books get onto bestseller lists because all the orders leading up to your book release date COUNT AS FIRST WEEK SALES. something like new york times bestseller list is close to impossible trot without preorders

think of it like a handsome surfing bigfoot trying to ride a wave. it is one thing to actually ride on the wave, but what matters most is that initial moment when you GET UP THERE and actually have the strength to pull yourself up when the wave starts. PREORDERS are the climbing up part

NOW LETS GET DOWN TO YOUR SPECIFIC QUESTION

first of all ANY preorder is great. what matters most as far as bestseller lists is actually FORMAT. the best thing you can order for an author is not ebook or audiobook, it is HARDCOVER. personally i am an audiobook buckaroo myself so please understand you should order whatever format you want, but technically speaking the answer is HARDCOVER

next is WHERE do you order. this answer is pretty dang cool actually. the best place to order for the sake of author is your LOCAL INDIE BOOKSTORE. if you MUST order at a big timer website that is fine, but many bestseller lists are weighted towards indie bookstores

so to sum it up. the technical BEST WAY to support chuck with 'bury your gays' is to PREORDER a HARDCOVER from an INDIE BOOKSTORE.

thank you for your question but before you go trotting along i would like to add one more thing

all art is important. when we create things they serve as stepping stones for us to move along our journey as artists and creators on this timeline. i have so much love for every book i have made, from POUNDED IN THE BUTT BY MY OWN BUTT to CAMP DAMASCUS

but i have to say with deep sincerity in my way, BURY YOUR GAYS is something special. i absolutely believe that if you care about fandom, or creation, or love, or fanfiction, or supernatural, or the future of media, or asexual buckaroos, or gay buckaroos, or bi buckaroos or any queer buckaroos, you will love this book. i promise buckaroo

it is the best thing i have ever written, and i think it is going to bend this timeline in incredible ways. i would like you to trot with me into the future, since we have already trotted this far together. i cannot say this enough: this one is special, and the timelines we create from here are going to make the whole dang world look up in surprise and say 'where the heck did that come from?'

so if you are even CONSIDERING preordering, take a moment a do it.

if you are one of those buckaroos who says 'chuck tingle is my favorite author ive never read' then now is your moment

lets trot buckaroos. thank you for reading and thank you for constantly proving to me that love is real

preorder BURY YOUR GAYS here

[erosia-rhodes]

It took me 14 months to write my fic, but it only took 2 months to turn it into this:

That’s right, y’all. I learned the art of bookbinding. This is the dark path fic writing can lead you down. I wanted a copy of my 220K-word monstrosity on my shelf, but paying to have it bound is illegal. (Damn you, intellectual property law!) When I learned I’d have to make it myself, I was like, are you fucking kidding me? No way. That is insane. Then 24 hours later I was like, okay, I guess I’m learning bookbinding? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Then I started to enjoy it! Rejecting a life of crime gave me a new hobby. And it does look nice sitting on the shelf next to the Scholomance series that inspired it.

It really is gorgeous to me, mostly because I created the whole thing from concept to hardcase. I wrote the story, created the typeset, designed the cover, and bound it—all by myself! I feel a bit like Gwen Higgins creating that healing patch for El: tilling the soil, planting the linen seeds, spinning it into thread, and then weaving it into a patch. (Okay, I didn’t make the paper or the ink or the heat transfer vinyl, but we have to set boundaries somewhere.)

It was rather exhausting though. I feel like I’ve completed a never-ending quest full of side missions that each required a different set of skills and required me to obtain a wide variety of obscure supplies. I also spent a bunch of money that I don’t really have, which makes this the most expensive book I’ve ever owned BY FAR, which is ridiculous because all the flaws in its construction undoubtedly decrease its value. It cost so much that I feel obligated to bind a whole bunch of more books to bring down the average cost per project. That, or I’ll have to eat all the supplies instead of buying groceries next month.

I plan on writing a series of posts about how I made this thing, including all my trips to the hardware store, the fraudster on Amazon who sent me weird paper, and my newfound love for craft knives and bone folders. When I do, I’ll post the links down below.

In the meantime, if anyone has an urge to bind a copy of my fic themselves, here are links to zip files of the signatures and the cover images: Spellbreaker signatures | Spellbreaker cover images

Oh, and here’s a link to the fic on AO3. Spellbreaker: A Scholomance Sequel by Erosia Rhodes. Enjoy!

[gaykarstaagforever]

I said I was going to read it, and I read it.

And now I know why no one else has in 55 years.

Spoiler Alert: he doesn't actually electrocute Clark, and was never going to. Utter bullshit.

The only cool things about this old guy are 1) his name is Homer Ferret, and 2) he looks like George Burns.

What is uncool about this guy is that he is an optometrist who has been stalking Clark Kent since he was a baby, for reasons he never goes into.

Like, he is just at the Kent's house when Baby Clark does his first heroic thing (pushing a runaway train car off the tracks). He is also suspiciously at the high school when it catches on fire, to see Clark jump into a bush from which Superboy then emerges to blow the fire out.

Did Homer start the fire? If not, why the hell was he hanging out at the high school? We never get answers to these and many other questions.

My favorite part is where he guesses (correctly) that Clark is Superman, based on his glasses. But not in the sane way of noticing that Clark Kent looks exactly like Superman if Superman wore glasses. Remember, no one in the DC Universe can apparently do that. Instead, as the only optometrist in Smallville, he knows Clark Kent never bought glasses from him. Once he has Clark strapped to the chair, he looks at Clark's glasses and realizes the lenses are just fake plastic ones (this was back when glasses actually contained glass).

Clark, as usual, just fucking lies and says he wears fake glasses because he is a giant coward and figured glasses would make kids bully him less. Because that is how that works.

Homer doesn't buy it, either, and so demands Clark admit he is Superman or get juiced. At the last second Clark FINALLY decides to use his X-Ray vision to look through the floor, where he sees that the generator attached to the chair is a low voltage one. Homer throws the switch and it tickles Clark with like 2 volts.

Then Homer admits he wasn't 100% on Clark being Superman after all, so wasn't going to risk killing him. Clark says "oh, you!", and decides to do a Daily Planet report on all the Superman artifacts this clearly dangerous obsessive has collected into a Superman shrine in his basement.

No one gets punched a single time.

The only good thing about this story is this random full page portrait of Clark Kent looking vaguely upset:

The other story in the issue is better, in that it is way, way dumber.

It starts off showing you how YOU TOO can draw Superman!

I feel there are a few steps missing here, but

Jimmy Olsen tells Clark how he is joining an art correspondence school, and Clark IMMEDIATELY decides it is a scam worthy of Superman's attention. And sure, it is definitely a scam being run by mobsters. But the second half of that is not remotely true.

Before he starts using X-Ray vision and perfect recall and telescopic vision and TIME TRAVEL (yes) to "solve" this crime of low-level mail fraud, he has to interview a kid who wants to be a cartoonist at the Daily Planet. Where he says this:

I think I get what he's supposed to be saying in this weird attempt at 60s Mod talk, but it took me awhile. You give it a go.

He also is a total dick about how much this child's comic strip sucks.

I mean it's no Silver Age Superman comic, but they can't all be, Clark. And let's be honest here, the bar is pretty low.

At some point in his "investigation" of this scam art school, Clark decides the best plan is for him to create forgeries of classical Western paintings. By this point he already has more than enough evidence to have these guys arrested, but he didn't get to do any pointless TIME TRAVEL yet (yes), so, priorities.

He flies back in time to study the painting techniques of the great masters. But he is bad at time travel (yes, literally), so he accidentally flies through the tail of Halley's Comet, which makes him 1) 16, and 2) blue.

Then this happens:

Let's unpack this.

1) Superman was the inspiration for Thomas Gainsborough's "Blue Boy," because he at this point is a boy, who is dressed in the mostly-blue Superman costume. ...But also because his skin is blue. You know. Unlike the boy in the painting.

2) Gainsborough uses Superboy as a model, in that he has him pose, holding a hat. But the boy in the painting is wearing a completely different outfit of rumpled velvet. So Gainsborough just did the complex outfit from his imagination, but he needed Superboy to show him what a boy holding a hat looks like? What bizarre level of "master artist" is this?

3) He doesn't paint the Blue Boy's skin, because Superboy has blue skin, and that would be too weird. And while he can obviously do imaginary clothes fine, he needs another model with normal-colored skin to do a face and a hand. ...Even though he only chose Superboy as a model in the first place, partly because he has blue skin, which makes him a 'Blue Boy,' which is what inspired the whole painting in the first place. ...Except he never intended to actually make the Blue Boy blue-skinned. So...

Adult men with families and mortgages wrote this.

After this, Superboy flies back through Halley's Comet's tail, restoring his age and color. Then he goes to visit Rembrandt, where Rembrandt ACTUALLY DRESSES HIM IN A PERIOD OUTFIT, to use him as a model for one of the figures in "The Night Watch". Because Superman is so muscular.

Because, as everyone thinks when they see that painting, "Man. That one guy in the hat is buff as shit." (?)

Notably, yet again, the painter doesn't paint Superman's face, this time because a officer of the REAL Night Guard paid to have his portrait put in the painting. But I guess that guy's body wasn't all swol and hot enough for Rembrandt's painting...of that specific guy.

"WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH GETTING THE POLICE TO ARREST THE MOBSTERS RUNNING A SCAM ART SCHOOL??"

Good goddamn question.

Superman comes back to the present and creates perfect forgeries of the two paintings he was inexplicably involved in creating. When the mobsters try to sell them as the real paintings, Clark Kent shows up with the cops and points out how the forgeries aren't actually perfect, he made them slightly different to prove they were fakes.

And this somehow is a crime the mobsters get arrested for. Instead of Clark Kent, who very obviously painted the forgeries so that these guys could sell them. Like, that was their plan, that the heretofore whatever Daily Planet reporter Clark Kent is suddenly such an amazing artist that he can make near-perfect forgeries of great paintings. And Clark went along with it, until he stopped. And this finally proves their art school is a scam. Even though the building they are in literally has trashcans full of art submissions they have thrown out once they take the registration money out of the envelopes. And all the secretaries working for them know the whole plan and have been helping them do it.

I'm not inferring that. That is all specifically shown in the comic.

None of this was necessary. Absolutely none of it.

On the plus side, at the end, the Daily Planet hires that kid to do his monkey comic. But just the writing, because Clark still thinks his art sucks. Jesus Christ, Clark.

Here is an ad for a hobby model of what was at the time an 11 year old station wagon.

I'm not being sarcastic! That's what their ad copy says! That's how they sold this!

There is also a Letters to the Editor feature, which I didn't take a picture of, because they print everyone's full names and hometowns. Yes I know even those kids are probably dead now, but I'm not going to chance it.

At any rate, about half the letters are children telling DC's editors that these Superman stories are stupid and full of inconsistent nonsense. To which the DC editors reply by defensively snapping back at them.

So it's not just us, as adults, now.

They knew. Everyone knew.

[goodluckclove]

What keeps me from writing: my own insecurity I guess. I can write random scenes that never go anywhere but I struggle writing complete stories because that's when my stupid goblin brain will hit the breaks and be like: hold on a second, this is nothing like what the writing books say. For some reason I get stupidly hung up on doing things the "right" way (aka what some professional writing person has said). I have to actively, mentally go against it and tell myself to write things the way I feel are right for me. And on the bad days I can't tell anymore if what I just wrote is good or bad because all I can hear in my head is: this not how you're supposed to do it. I like to think I'm getting better at it.

Hi, Lych. I'm so happy to see you. Will you maybe sit down with me for a second? I was trying to get some work done today but I can't stop thinking about this question so I figure something is telling me that it's important.

Let me see your writing books. Give me those blog posts and videos too. Wow, there's a lot here, isn't there? A lot of people seem to consider themselves authorities on writing. Some people who you know are very successful, and others who you've never seen or heard of before. And they all seem to be saying something different, don't they? Or maybe they'll reference each other like they're all strands in some grand dreamcatcher of professional acceptability.

Okay, we've looked at it for long enough. What I have right here is a large bottle of kerosene - you might want to stand back, actually. I'm going to go ahead and start spraying down all these rules and standards until they're nice and rankly damp. It might take a second.

They're wrong, you know. Anyone who gives you a step-by-step guide on any form of art and tells you it's the only way to do it is wrong. Structure isn't bad, per say. If you're a visual artist, it could help to learn traditional anatomy. If you're a filmmaker, you should...I mean, it would help to know how to use a camera. You should know how to use the tools you want to use to some extent, and YouTube tutorials could be pretty useful for that -

You know what? I think the fumes are getting to me. Would you mind helping me out? Here, I have another bottle. Catch.

For some reason there's a very terrible trend of new, unpublished, non-working writers feeling like they need to give advice in absolutes instead of sharing what works for them. There's a strange height of unsubstantiated confidence in people like this that always leaves me kind of befuddled - my example is always a woman I saw online who explained that every story needs a second act twist. That still bothers me.

But it's not really any better with famous and massively successful writers who release books on how to write. Not only does it create the dangerous unspoken narrative that if someone buys the book and follows every step they'll have a carbon-copy career, but I've found that once you write for long enough you forget a lot of the struggles that beginning writers have. I've been writing for fifteen years, and I no longer really remember what it feels like to struggle in a lot of profound ways that many do. I have doubts still. I'll commonly ask myself if what I write is actually any good at all. But it comes up way less often than it used to.

You're doing a really good job. I think that's probably enough fuel.

I think this is more of an issue with those who already have a predisposition for creativity, and by what you've posted on your blog I can see that you're a very skilled and impressive artist already. Your bronze Icarus was especially touching to me, both emotionally and in the sense that I just kind of wish that I could touch it. You express movement in a lot of subtle ways. It's really cool!

Maybe switching to writing feels like starting over. Like you have to get someone's permission before you can just start. Damn, my match broke.

Where was I? Oh, right.

You know how to read, don't you? You've read stories, or had stories read to you? If so, then that's your permission right there. If you make an effort to absorb a variety of stories from different perspectives, as well as engage in the world and people around you, as well as take time for introspection towards your own inner world...well, that's everything you need. From that point on you can go to workshops and get feedback or whatever, but that's not something you really have to worry about yet.

Now that I think about it, you might be better with a matchbook than I am. A sculptor much have steadier hands than someone like me. Ah, there! Fantastic.

You know where to go from here, my friend.

[givemetherapyimawritingtravesty]

For @goodboylupin 's RS Candy Hearts (nearly a year late 🙃 but will I ever forget about it? Maybe never ...)

Maybe Never - Three Times Sirius Won’t Shut Up About His Husband, and One Time Remus Won’t

(1)

“You know, MY husband is an author. Writes all kinds of things. See, he started in journalism and then made his way to publishing. These days, MY husband writes high fantasy instead of hard hitting journalism. Though in my opinion it’s still ‘hard-hitting’…” Sirius trails off with a smirk and a nudge to Remus, who is standing beside him, hands in his pockets.

Remus blushes, leaning in to grumble, “Really? Must you talk about me at every opportunity? I thought you wanted to get in and out of this benefit your brother’s hosting. You hate these things.”

“I do. But I love talking about MY husband. All accomplished, supporting me and my art.”

“Like you don’t make well enough money selling under your family name anyway. Will you ever tire of talking about me?”

Sirius hummed, “Maybe Never.”

((2))

Another Sunday brunch with Remus’ parents, another meal sitting back and watching Sirius drone on about him. Remus has already finished eating is sitting with his arms crossed, leaning against the back of his chair and occasionally sipping his tea.

“See, MY husband just submitted his newest work to his editor and so MY husband is taking us on a little vacation to London to celebrate while he waits for edits and feedback. Not that there’ll be much that needs editing, MY—“

“Yes, dear, Your husband. Our son, must you refer to him like that every time, he has a name that we gave him,” Hopes says with a teasing smile. Truthfully she finds it endearing more than anything, but she has to call her son-in-law out on it anyway.

“Yes, I must,” Sirius says matter of factly.

Remus scoffs, “Don’t you think you’ll get sick of it?”

“Maybe Never, so get used to it.”

(((3)))

“So anyway, MY husband loves this recipe. MY husband says it’s the only good think my parents ever gave us, besides me and my brother of course.”

“Sirius, who are you— oh. Hi, instagram,” Remuss says as he sees the phone propped up against a bag of flour.

“Here he is now, MY husband. Say hi everyone.”

The comments flood with greetings as Sirius continues on baking away. Remus walks up to him for a brief kiss.

“Will you ever even consider stopping referring to me so formally?”

Sirius smiles ear to ear, “Maybe Never.”

(+1)

Remus stands beside Sirius at the art gallery opening, glass of champagne in hand and smiling politely at whoever comes by to talk to Sirius about his art. Currently, some gentleman is talking about considering buying some art for his office, something about sprucing up the family practice.

“Well,” Remus interjects during a brief lull in the conversation, “MY husband, I’m sure, would also be more than happy to do some commission pieces for you too, if there is a theme you have or if you wanted something relating to… teeth? Dentistry, correct?”

“Yes, yes, that’s correct. You think that would be something he— you could do?” The man looks from Remus to Sirius.

“Absolutely, MY husband loves the opportunity to create things especially for patrons. I’ll take a business card if you have one and have MY husband reach out later this week.”

“Yes, I will contact you and we can discuss what you might have in mind for the pieces,” Sirius says, extending a hand to shake before turning to Remus as the man wanders away. “Really? MY husband?”

“How’s it feel?” Remus asks with a smirk.

“Will you ever not tease me? I just like calling you mine.”

“Will I? Maybe Never,” Remus whispers as he leans in for a kiss.

[carmenbathwater]

Hi, I really like the art of Lucci you've drawn, they seem very interesting. Can you tell me about them?

OH I CERTAINLY CAN LET ME GET MY THINGS

^by Dior

This is my limbus sinner oc Lucci!! Its based off of lucifer from tha bible and revolves heavily around the idea of original sin

It lived in lcorp's nest, now the former lcorp ofc-- Lucci was born to wealthy (but not too wealthy) parents who pushed it to constantly "be better", which is of course a very vague concept. This influenced a lot of Lucci's upbringing, constantly feeling unworthy of the life it lived and as if it always had to Do More. Lucci was also a genetically altered child, its parents picked and chose which traits they wanted it to have. Here are their rough references for your viewing pleasure~

When Lucci was roughly of the age 16, it ventured outside the lcorp nest through a gap in the walls created by a decrepit abandoned factory with ties to prosthetics manufacturing. Lucci, who was never quite known for anything, never quite good enough for anything, made close ties with someone for the first time. They were several years older but encouraging that Lucci had something special in its mind.

This "something special" was the belief that humanity is inherently born sinful, and machinery is not. Lucci at this point, is familiar with mechanics and prosthetics, despite only owning those that are completely aesthetic at this point. Lucci is pushed towards the belief that to absolve the sinful humanity, everyone should implant as many machines as possible into themselves. This belief starts to spread, with Lucci living a double life, one within the walls of the nest, where it is nothing, and another where it is suddenly bolstered to the most important person in the room.

^another by Dior, for your viewing pleasures

After Lobotomy corporation falls in the white nights and dark days, Lucci garners far more traction from suffering nest residents and backstreet residents that flock to the growing cause. Lucci feels powerful for the first time in its life, and falls easily to manic preaching. To imbue machinery to yourself is to dilute the humanity that poisons the soul, by its words. Throughout this time, its very first friend, its now right hand partner, manages it. They dispense calming sleeping pills, encourage fits of mania at the opportune moments, and stoke the flames that Lucci inspires in its new followers.

Enter the library.

Lucci hears of the library, and the machine that resides inside, and sets about procuring one of these 'invitations'. It doesn't take long before one finds it's way to it. Lucci sends its followers outside of the garden, the abandoned factory that they have named Eden, the birthplace of their new movement. Many of its followers fail the library's trial, and Lucci sends more, until finally it sends its right hand to procure a book of machinery. Within such a book, Lucci is certain there must be the secret to curing their sinful bodies.

It's right hand partner fails to return, but Lucci gets a book. Before even part of its plan begins a stranger intervenes. Lucci mistakenly recounts that this stranger is by certainty an enforcer from the head, sent to dispatch it before it's beliefs sprout from their seedlings. Lucci is caught up in the ensuring slaughter, using its followers as shields. The factory that it had made its home in crumbles under the battle, and Lucci becomes caught in one of the machines. To escape, the snake loses its tail. Just the same, Lucci loses an arm and two fingers of its other hand, which is enough to convince the stranger that somewhere within the viscera, Lucci is soundly dead.

Instead of dying, Lucci drags itself from the backstreets to lick its wounds. Only kept alive by its desperation to live, Lucci sells the prosthetics it garnered during its time in the nest and buys cheaper replacements, including its arm. It butchers its memories, selling off muscle memory and skills that it half developed in its years of constant betterment. This is enough to survive until it's approached by Limbus company with the offer of a contract. Finally, that spark is reinvigorated in its eyes, the chance to obtain that very thing it wished for. Lucci is hired to recoup for the lost bough after canto 4 within limbus company timeline<3 Where they promptly become FASCINATED with Dante's prosthetics.

^here's some more commissioned work for your eyes sake

Lucci and Dante pair very well together romantically or not. Lucci encourages them often when they feel unsure, and Dante often, being Dante, encourages Lucci to soften up and allow someone else to see it. Lucci carries the heavy burden of sacrificing its following to survive, and knowingly sending them to the slaughter in the library. Dante reaffirms that it doesn't need to be better to accept warmth, as Lucci has so often shut out due to the fear that it simply will never be good enough.

Lucci is heavily fixated on the concept of absolving humanity completely, and copes with this through the use of multiple prosthetics including spinal augments and its arm, of course. Their canto revolves around the theme of inhumanity, and how Lucci perceives machinery as the only way to release itself of its burdens and finally be good enough to be loved for what it is. It has trouble building connections because of its "lack of proper humanity"(this is a metaphorical used to mean autistic).

During its canto, Lucci reunites with its right hand partner, and is led back to the factory where it all began to find the bough. Its partner has already contained and sealed the bough, but as Lucci steps forward to receive it, they rebuke it. They tell Lucci of every last thought they had, how they were manipulating it, how they were only there to garner a following through it. How Lucci led all of those poor, naive people into the slaughter, be it the library or the awaiting collapse that killed the last of its followers. They tell Lucci with certainty, that no matter how much it has tried, its only doomed to repeat and harm everything it desperately reaches for. Lucci is no more than a poison, the snake that feeds them the apple. Lucci will be a detriment to everything it touches.

The thrashing of a fight ensues, but is interrupted by Lucci finally cracking. Their words finally reach it. The loathing, the despair consumes it completely and it distorts into a giant metal serpent. The serpent spews smog that turns bystanders to metal guards. These guards push back against the sinners desperately trying to reach it as Lucci swallows the bough whole. the choice to prompt a sinner to speak to Lucci fails, and the sinner is turned into a metal soldier while the serpent flails desperately. Lucci believes fully that it must be the origin of all evil, that to save the warmth it so covets, the only way to rid everyone of their sin is to destroy itself, so that no more will innocent people succumb to the cold, consuming metal.

Finally, as the battle grows desperate, Dante steps forward to call out to Lucci, and is promptly swallowed by the distortion. Inside it is dry, but the heat of molten metal and smog is closing in slowly as they descend, looking for the source of its pain.

The bough it swallowed is lodged in its side. And Dante, conversing with the serpent, makes the choice to show it kindness by removing the painful object. Despite Lucci desperately begging to leave the wound, to allow it to feel pain for the suffering it causes to others, even to Dante now.

Just as the molten metal begins to singe and unbearably burn their lower body, Dante is spit out with a harsh spewing of smog, perfectly intact and protected from the distortion's effects.

The sinner can be revived with the turn of a clock, and the battle against the serpent begins in earnest. Instead of fighting, the battle becomes one of endurance as the serpent charges and flails, slowly becoming sluggish and its cries becoming quieter without the bough's power. Through the endurance the serpent finally quiets, and Lucci reverts to itself again, born anew and sobbing. Dante finally gets through to it that the warmth it seeks so fervently is already there, all it has to do is accept it. It never needed to absolve its sins, and it already was a person worthy of that warmth.

Theres other things as well such as how it routinely steals weapons and clothes and items as a practical joke, hiding them. It treats the sinners like a crow pulling a dogs tail and flapping away while it barks. Lucci speaks with a gravely voice from a now missing vocal prosthetic, it is 6'2ft, it cradles people its fond of by wrapping its prosthetic around around them. It's favorite color is black, because it can imagine anything hidden in its darkness. Lucci uses pistols as a weapon, costing the company millions and millions in bullets, it tucks these guns into bed with itself frequently and very seriously. It is overly fond of sweets and crossword puzzles. I can go on for days<3 Here's one last picture of them for the road~

^Artist link

^these two and its parents are my art ^^

[therosebunpost]

Oh to be Steddie's crafty GF~!

So, im touching on this topic in my Steve x Manic Pixie Dream couple story, of course, but I just wanna take a moment to gush about this idea.

Like, making things for them would be lit. My first thought is making Sports merch for Steve!! Shirts, hats, shorts, whatever. You either hand dye it to match the team colors or upcycle already existing things to add some personality to it.

Oh!! And upcycling his old clothes! Bet, you take some of his old polos and make dresses out of them by adding fabric to it! I think he'd love seeing you walk around knowing that shirt used to be his once upon a time. You just look so cute, and he'll even buy a new matching polo. (Listen, Steve feels like the type of dude who would 100% be down for matching things. I just feel it in my bones.)

Personally, I headcanon that Steve isn't very artistic. Not that he doesn't get it or he doesn't like it, no. It's just, he's never really felt the need to pursue it. He'll join in on activities involving crafts, but he's more interested in the social aspect rather then the craft itself. Likes watching others be creative and supporting them in doing so!! He loves watching you and Eddie in your elements, offering support and opinions when he can but ultimately just vibing.

Speaking of our dear Metalhead, craft buddies!!! You can not convince me that man hasn't got a crafty bone in his body, because he absolutely does! Now, I feel like Eddie is the embodiment of those cross stitch/embroidered pieces where you expect some wholesome, grandmotherly quote but instead its "This isn't a whore house, its a whore home." Or he'd 100% be the one who makes something vaguely (lets face it, theres no subtly) phallic or vaginal shaped. My dude is putting dicks, butts, boobs and coochie where he can, if he can.

That aside, I do think he's very artistic and actually does have things to say with that talent. Be it music, his writing, or any art medium you'd think he'd pick up. Sure, there's goofy stuff, but mixed in are some deeper meanings. Messages about the world and his life. I also think that stuff is really good. He puts a lot of effort into it, even the joke stuff. Hell, especially the joke stuff because "obviously you gotta make the boobs sit correctly or else the whole bit is thrown off, Steve!" (Steve reacting to that art just sounds so funny to me. He's supportive but also how can they bring anyone over anymore when there's a painting of a weed leaf hanging over the couch, or the goofy art of butts in the bathroom???) Also, I do think Eddie would happily make you both things. In fact, thats his love language. He's written you both songs, made patches for clothes, has even helped you in making custom Sports merch for Steve. Beyond just crafts, I also think he likes fixing things. (Even if Steve tells him he'll just buy a new one, Eddie likes seeing if he can fix it.)

Okay i think I got on a Eddie craft rant right there, but!! Back to you!! So, I imagine you've helped Eddie make props for campaigns, screen printed shirts for Corroded Coffin, and Hellfire, and also just thing's he likes. Custom band merch, book merch, all the merch!

As for your own crafts for yourselves, they love seeing what you come up with! If you make clothes, they absolutely want to see them. If you make jewelry, they admire it on you all the time. If you do something else, like crochet or knit, they love watching your hands as you work with the yarn. If you cook or bake, you bet your ass that they want to eat it, whatever it is. Steve is just so in awe of your ability to create something out of thin air. Eddie is constantly inspired and finds a muse in both you and Steve.

Just, being the crafty GF of them sounds nice~

[night-market-if]

Hi there !

I just came here to say that I read the entirety of the Night Market yesterday. Before my final exam. Instead of studying. A wonderful decision, really.

More seriously, I need to say this : this. This is a work of art. This shook me to my core. The way you describe everything is wonderful. And the story. The characters. Oh my god the world you created is so full and complex and you can see so much of your love for it through the writing, and it's not a perfect world, nowhere near it, but the characters in this world care and it's enough. The main cast, no, everyone really, is so human. So likable (except some obvious villains, whom are still incredibly interesting in their motivations, and also their madness the Lord of Dolls is an incredible example of this), so full of mistakes, with backstories so complex and unique, and I want to hug them because they need it but also slap some of them because they're so dumb *cough* Milo *cough*, which, I think, shows a lot about how well written a character is.

Now, onto the spoilers and the last chapters. I'm screaming. So so so not okay right now. I swear I ended the last chapter, read the last word, and went "how the fuck am I supposed to go to my exam tomorrow and be normal about this ???". Like. The way each plot twist was for me unexpected but shed light on so much stuff. Like, wow. Every bit that I was like "oh wait that's genius". One thing, even. In one chapter, when MC says to Milo "I hate them. The one who brought me there." and Milo had a strange reaction I said "oh imagine if he's the one who brought us there haha that would be fun". Let me tell you I wasn't laughing later on in chapter 11 after discovering that this funny thought, fastly forgotten because hey, I was never great at theories, this funny thought WAS THE GOOD ONE.

You are so so so so so so talented and I love your universe and everything and I'm destroyed in the best way possible and you gave me so much motivation about working on my own book and I will buy it I will buy the full game I will buy every one of your games just take my money. This is incredible. You are incredible.

Thank you so much for Night Market. I will read it again (because I don't have anymore exam ha). And sorry for the long rant, but I really needed to share how much I loved your if, and your writing ! Also sorry if any of this sounds strange, english isn't my first language !

With that, I hope you have a nice day/evening/night ! Take care of yourself !

I hope your exams went amazing!!! I do not miss those years. LOL

First off, thank you thank you thank you! The gushing was what I needed to sign on to. I always get so excited when readers get what I've been trying to convey. These flawed characters, all of which have lives and a past, are so very important to me. I know the typical way to do things is to write a story revolving around the MC but I would much rather write a story where MC goes and just experiences the world and the people in it.

As for being fooled by Milo, someone on discord put it great. You are blind to the ones you love. The truth of Milo has been laid out for some time. From chapter one, really. But, it was hard to see because of the kind of person he is. I am so excited to explore that in book 2.

Thank you for spending the time to write all this out. It has filled me with all the warm love. :)

And as for the Dollmaker? He will be a "villain" we will be seeing more of.

[androgynousblackbox]

Sometimes I feel like the only person who loves seeing media critiquing capitalism, talking about class, and just don't like at all the Menu. Like, I saw a video of someone saying that the movie is really about violence and how "if you want a violent revolution, then you are just as bad as the people who want to exterminate you", and I also don't vibe that, but also I don't really buy into the whole "oh, this movie is about destroying the elite and literally eating the rich", like.... I can see parts of that, but more than anything is... meh. I still think it's kinda weak even after seeing reaction and review videos from people who do actually work on that industry, who understood the little nuances behind the dishes and what not. I guess my biggest issue is the main guy. Like, he makes this huge fucking deal about how he has come to hate everything he does, about how he wants to punish the people who don't appreciate his work, who are so filthy rich that take it for granted, and I am here like but, my guy, you are part of this industry too. You made it so the people who work with you in this bullshit island idea have no life outside of this. You created this shit. Nobody forced you into doing this. You made this hell. You put yourself on it. Why should I root for you to take it out on people who did nothing to you? Taking it back to that "this movie is about violence on both side of social conflict", fuck that shit because oppressed people did fuck all to be on that position. They didn't choose to live that life and they did nothing to deserve it. This guy literally couldn't have done anything to reach that place that wasn't his own will. So I am fucking ass confused as to WHY people are taking this movie as some kind of "fuck you" to the elite class, when the "fuck you" comes from a part of the elite that prefers to do anything before going to therapy? Like the first death is an angel investor and like, sincerely, just why is this guy being punished for giving you the money for this stupid bullshit you wanted to make? I just never get a sense that either he or the movie is aknowledging this? Like, what, I am supposed to feel bad because making a simple cheeseburger is fulfilling for him and he forgot that while he was making those fancy ass dishes? Why was just giving up this island bullshit and getting your own restaurant with cheesburgers not an option here? "Uh but then we wouldn't have the movie" doesn't cut it for me. Why are we treating this like a tragedy that just happened to this guy, and that is why he has a right to lash out, instead of just his own fucking choices? And like, if you tell me "my guy, this is just a horror movie. It's supposed to be unhinged. If every serial killer went to therapy instead of doing unhinged evil things we won't have a genre anymore" and like, fine, sure, but then why are people treating it like it's something bigger than that? Why I see so many people being on the side of this guy or even rooting for him? I don't get it, I truly don't.

Like, when he starts monologuing about why everyone is going to die and he just shit in John Leguizamo because he did a bad movie that he went to see on his one free day, I am just like bitch, you are your own boss. You did that to yourself. And you can watch more than one movie in a day? He didn't want that role either, the fuck are you on about. Maybe that is just part of the comedy, it's supposed to be just one joke about how truly petty and nonsensical this bullshit has turned into, which like good, fun, but then that really clashes with that being on his side. I don't want to be on the side of a guy who shits on actors for just doing their job with bad scripts they didn't write. It's confusing to me seeing people saying "this movie is a true criticism of class while something like Saltburn is not" and maybe that is the thing about art, that everyone is supposed to have different interpretations and tastes and whatever, but I feel like a fucking alien seeing this kind of discourse pop out because I just fundamentally disagree with it. I don't even know if it's a me thing that I don't understand or it's a gringo thing somehow? I don't know, it's weird.

[maybuds]

I also think it's interesting to see how movies and music are also not even marketed as art/stories anymore like the barbie phenomenon is such a clear example, the whole scheme was it's a Barbie movie! look at the aesthetic! it's all PINK! isn't it fun that it comes out the same day as that war movie that's all red and black ! boo explosions ahah !! like ??? where's the plot of the movie?? isn't anyone going to tell us that? and the answer is no bc it's irrelevant lol, ppl go watch it bc they can dress up and take pictures to post on Instagram, they go see the new mcu movie bc they "have to" finish the trilogy so they can talk about it on Twitter, it doesn't matter if all we have is reboots bc stories don't matter anymore.

it's also happening with concerts like people don't go to listen to the music (bc the music isn't even that great tbh ! it's just what's popular on tiktok!) but bc it's an ~experience~ and again an opportunity to dress up and post pictures!! even for the singer what they're wearing matters more than what they're singing! and I get that live music/concerts have always been an experience per se BUT it had never been this disconnected by the music itself imo

also I'd urge to recognize who is benefiting from these shifts bc what happens when going to a concert or watching a movie becomes something that requires a specific aesthetic that then needs to receive social media approval?? exactly, you need TO BUY STUFF! every time ! and who sells you the stuff ? the companies that have partnered with the company that made the movie of course! the popstar with their specific brand ! the influencers paid to go to that concert and that movie premiere! it's literally a Neverending cycle of money that you keep giving to the same people and a Neverending production of stuff that will be thrown away almost instantly bc it's made to become irrelevant almost instantly!

oh my godddd this is all so true, you said it all anon. and it’s depressing for the ones who want to produce and create art because this is what their hard work comes to, as consumables or just products to sell, and they end up just looking at it as another job instead of something they were passionate about in the first place. it’s a struggle with, like, reconciling artistic expression/meaning-making and earning an income, and you can’t blame them for choosing the latter at some point. it sucks, everything sucks, it’s unsustainable and it’s such a depressing scene to look at, especially when all you wanted was to create something meaningful. and it sucks that the way people now engage with this stuff on social media also inevitably perpetuates the shittiness of it for artists and creators everywhere, it just becomes a cycle and just the big studios and brands are benefiting from it

[gagfadget]

Others should be able to like any type of art that they want no matter if the style is pretty or unconventional. I’m truly sorry that people were shitty towards you but people in the fandom don’t have to like your style. Nor do they have to prove anything to you.

Oh trust me I’m not asking people to like my art style! You can hate my art style all you want, you can go to your friends and talk about how my art looks like cock. I really do not care. I have friends who don’t like my art style. I have FAMILY who don’t like my art style and have flat out told me that they’d never buy from me or commission me. I have art styles that I don’t like! What I do care about is when people come to me and tell me that my art is bad. What artist in their right mind wants to hear someone say that the way they draw is ugly???

I DONT WANNA HEAR THAT SHIT!!! NO ARTIST WANTS TO HEAR THAT SHIT!!!

All that I said is that some people need to get themselves comfortable with other types of art styles so that when they see styles like mine, they don’t immediately wig tf out and ask me insulting, dumb ass questions. I’ve had to go my whole life with my peers, my art mentors and my family being mean towards me because of the way I draw just because they weren’t used to art that looked like mine.

Ive had teachers rip pages out of my sketch book and throw them in the trash in front of me because I was drawing stuff like this:

instead of pretty white angels.

Do you think I like getting asked “why does your art look like that? why do your characters have big lips? Why is your art so ugly? Why don’t you draw landscapes instead? Why don’t you draw normal looking people? why does this look like that? why does that look like this? Ugly. Ugly. Ugly. why? why? why? why?”

I’m sorry but the answer is because you don’t consume enough art that truly challenges you!!! Yeah I’m gonna sound pretentious when I say this but If you want to consume nothing but pretty, cutesy art styles that’s good. You do you. I get it, I love cute shit. I love consuming and creating a good tumblr sexy man piece from time to time but DO NOT freak out and come for artists when they don’t fit into that mold.

[pbandjesse]

I'm working a wedding tonight and I'm already having so much fun. This is such a nice group. They're super fun and super funny. And they are absolutely willing to buy into being a little silly. Like I just found a couple of people wearing the gas station costumes and pretending to wash the car. Hilarious.

Honestly everyone I've interacted with today has been so good. I had a very long day at camp and I'm very tired right now. Like my eyes hurt but it was really good and I just feel like we accomplished so much.

I do wish I got to sleep a little bit longer. I slept an extra 15 minutes but I had to get up. That was not thrilled. But I got washed and dressed and I felt good and excited. Today was going to be a really nice day.

James sent me off to work with an egg salad sandwich. That I ate while driving because traffic was horrible. And I ended up getting to work at like 8:15. Still beat everyone else. I went to the girls latrine's first to drop off cleaning material. And then I texted Heather to check in because I needed a few things. Gloves and tape and stuff like that. But she had already texted me asking me to create sign up sheets. Can do.

I would stop at the art building first. Collected some stuff I wanted to bring home. Put some stuff in the building I needed to put away. And went back to the office to do my little tasks before the volunteers came.

It was a very busy day at camp though. With three different rentals. Which I didnt even think we did. But whatever. Everyone seemed really nice.

And it was a lot of fun. After I finished printing everything and checking in with Heather and getting some material from her car. I would go outside and see that a couple are volunteers were over at the office. So I collected them up and walked with them to the lodge. And oh no we had like 30 40 people there. And they were so nice.

There was some confusion because of the other groups. And I was standing outside kind of directing people who were parking inside and a guy comes up to me and he was like hey we're from BGE. Do you know where supposed to be here. I'm like yeah and he's like oh where is everyone I was like oh my god they're inside he was so relieved. I don't know what was going on but he seems so worried. And then everyone just did so good. We got everyone to sign up for different areas and we had a little safety talk and no one signed up for painting the latrine with me so instead I would join Joe's group at the pool.

I was not thrilled. Because I thought that I was just going to overheat and get sunburned but I did remember to put on sunscreen and bug spray and it ended up being really really fun.

I led my group over after stopping to take a group picture for them. I actually almost dropped a phone and caught it and it was very impressive. But I took multiple pictures on multiple phones and then we broke up into our groups and got over to the pool to meet Joe.

The plan was to have a few of them work on skimming. A few of them work on moving The plants. And then we would have another guy using a leaf blower to blow out all of the debris in the gutters. I was very surprised when we got to the pool to see how many tadpoles were in there. Thousands of that. They were everywhere. And I felt so bad because we had to skim out the leaves and they were coming with it and thankfully they were mostly on the edges so I tried my best to avoid them but there was no way. I'm sure so many of them died and I felt horrible about it. Like they were in the book it's with the leaves but those leaves were going to get dumped out into the yard and they're just going to dry out and I felt like a monster.

So after a while of me standing in the shallow end with the tiny pool skimmer while the guys had the deep end ones, I told Joe how the tadpoles were upsetting me and he said that he would get me a bucket so I could start trying to at least collect them. And so that's what I spent the next hour and a half doing.

I was standing in the water and walking back and forth on the stairs collecting as many tadpoles as I could. And I got a good amount. A couple hundred if not a couple thousand. They were just so small. But I did my best. And honestly I was having a good time being in the sun. I was surprised. It wasn't too hot out. The sun was bright but it wasn't oppressive. I was having nice conversation with the guys. And alexie was working hard too with that big skimmer and we were just making really good progress.

I had to stop collecting tadpoles when the water truck came. And I had a nice conversation with that guy because I was curious how much the water level would change. Cuz this was a huge truck. But it ended up only being like 2 in. He said he would come back about four times. And then it would fill the rest of the pool. Surprised me. Very neat.

Around 12:00 I realize that I could not collect anymore tadpoles. I was trying but I was only getting a few on each pass and my bucket was getting pretty full. So I told the guys I was going to walk it over to the pond. And all of them wanted to go see the pond so we carried the bucket ( we found that the bucket was actually cracked in the bottom so we put the bucket in another bucket but then that bucket had a hole in it. So we did our best not to lose any tadpoles ) and walked up to frog hollow.

And it was so pretty over there. I wish I had brought a net because I really would have liked to catch a frog to show the guys. But we did see a few frogs. One of the guys also said he saw a water snake but I don't know if I believe him. And we spent some time just flipping logs and rocks and looking for things but it was too dry out to really see any salamanders. So a bunch of worms but it was not a great creature day. Just tadpoles and frogs. To be fair of the real lot of those. We got to see other types of tadpoles as well. One of the guys had their two sons with them so I was glad we could show the kids something cool as well.

We spend some time just chilling by the frog pond but then I was like you know we should probably go back to the pool before I get in trouble. So we went back and checked in to see if there was anything else that we could do at the pool. But we were basically done everything that was going to get accomplished today. And so I walked them to the lodge for lunch.

Alexi would spend a little time telling them about rentals and a bunch of them were super excited about the idea of having birthday parties at the pool. And having corporate parties as well. But mostly the birthday party. And the woman who organized the whole event and me had a really lovely conversation. She told me that she came to camp when she was a child and in foster care and that when she was in foster care they weren't allowed to hug her. But when she came to camp she got those hugs that she needed and doing these volunteer days are like her giving a hug back. And that was just so sweet. Just made me want to cry. I'm so glad that camp is so important to her too.

They did not really order enough pizza I think. But everyone got a couple slices and I really enjoyed the pasta salad they got. And I was really just grateful that they shared with us. We hung out and talked and Alexi and Heather and Elizabeth would give some closing words and invitations to the music festival next weekend and just a lot of really nice stuff was said today. This was a really good group of volunteers and I really hope that you come back and become more involved. It was just really good.

Though. I waited for a little bit walking around the lodge seeing if anyone wanted to walk to the barn to see the horses but most people just wanted to go home. Couple people stayed to do the climbing tower with Sarah and Nick but most people left. And I didn't blame them. So I walked with Elizabeth and Heather to see the fire pit that got moved for the new wedding venue. And then I went to the office to get the gator so I could go and put things away.

But on my walkover Margaret called me. And she officially offered me the job. It's going to be pretty part-time for a while which is totally fine. But they're going to be paying me like double my rate. And I'm just very thrilled about that. So I'm really excited even though I'm a little nervous about having to be very decisive and be in charge. But I think Jesse's going to do a really good job telling me what I can and cannot do and giving me the tools to go into this new role and not just feels really awesome. So she's going to send me more official stuff and we'll see when everything moves forward.

I would go grab the gator and drove up to the barn to collect all of the tools that Heather had used and all of the materials I had left at the latrine this morning. I went to the salt mines and put them away and just kind of bopped around camp putting things backwards they belonged. While I was over at Joe's building I finally found the lamp that Alexi said I could have. He had put it in the scrap metal pile. So I collected that. I also found two broken trombones. So I took those as well. And went back to the office.

I would stay for a little while. Chatting and checking in about stuff but there wasn't much else for me to do and I was very tired from the sun. I decided that it would be really nice to go to Rita's before I went home. So I said goodbye to everyone and I left.

I went to the Rita's in Hunt Valley. I got a mango misto which was very good. I was having an honing for a second because last year I remembered I got a fruit mistow and it wasn't very good.. like it was really boring. And I couldn't remember if it was peach or mango. So I decided to go with mango and I was correct in my choice and it was great. The only thing that would have improved it would have been a pretzel but I did not want to stop at the Dutch market again because I wanted to go home and take a shower. I was covered in pool juices and dirt.

And I had to deal with some traffic. And I was not happy because I was so tired. And I was hoping that I could have a few minutes of just sitting down. But I would get home a little after 4:00 and everything would be okay. Even though I was pretty upset.

I had brought home one of the fake grass mats that I had in the art building and I thought I got all the dirt off of it but I apparently did a terrible job because the back of the car was covered in dust and then we picked it up I was covered in dust and then everything was covered in dust and it was horrible. I had to quickly run it into the house and to the backyard so I can throw it on the ground but then sweepy came out and I didn't know and I threw it and he came out and he was under it because I threw it on top of him and he was so upset and dirty. It was a mess.

So I let James know when they said that they would help vacuum when they got back. And I went to go take a shower.

In the shower helped. I also did my hair nice. Brushed it and put oils in it. And just wanted to feel pretty. I got changed and then I sat in front of my mirror to do my makeup and do my cuticles trying to make my fingers look pretty. I did break one of my nails pretty severely but it's fine. And then James was home. And they came and gave me a kiss and then they vacuumed and tried to make everything better again. I love them so much.

I'm pretty soon after that I have to go. I sat with them downstairs for a few minutes but they had a lot of chores to get done before they were recording and I had to go to work. So we said goodbye and I went to the museum.

And man was it a nice night. I had trouble finding Jesse at first but I walked around the museum chatting with the caterers that I knew and meeting the wedding planners and this couple was so nice. Their friends were excellent. Everyone I've talked to this evening was so good. I was out on the pier with Jesse for a bit though once I found him. And he has such funny nervous energy when it comes to issues. Like the department of national resources police were there and they were going to walk through the wedding and he was like oh my God we have to stop them. And then just random people coming off of the street to walk to the water and he was so worried about them being near the wedding and it was interesting to see the problems with I might have to deal with and thinking about different ways I might deal with them. But our security guard is great and took over a lot of the interacting with the public part so everything was okay and the wedding was beautiful. Like I was crying because it was so sweet. And it was just such a beautiful day for it. They really lucked out with weather. It was sunny and a little breezy but not cool and everyone was beautiful It was just so nice.

Before it was time to go inside for the guests I ran inside to make sure that the doors to the exhibits that were not open were actually locked. And I was very annoyed to find that they were a mess. Like whoever was the educator is today did not put away any of the materials and it looked terrible. And my tray that says please do not touch four events was out. Rude. That is not yours It says don't touch it. So it was a little pissed off about that but it was fine. I cleaned up a little and let James know and it was just annoying to come into that. But we move on.

And I have an excellent night. This was probably the most people I've ever had come up into the exhibit but people are so excited to see the machines get turned on or have great conversations with people and I was just having a blast. We did have one issue with caterers kept coming back with trays of drinks into the exhibit and they're not supposed to do that. And one of them dropped a tray and ice went everywhere. Thankfully it was an empty cup but still ice all over the ground was not ideal. And so I had to let Jesse know and that was embarrassing. But I handled it everything was okay. And I gave lots of really good talks and I had a lot of fun. My throat hurt a lot by the end and I drank all my water but that's all good.

I stayed a little bit later because I was enjoying talking with Jesse about different procedures and how to turn lights off and all those things and I also was telling him about this project. How I've been documenting for so long and how important it is to me. And he thought that was really cool and he was like I mentioned it I was like oh my God yes you are because I mentioned everybody. And then the caterers brought us dinner and he didn't know that I don't eat meat so he felt really bad that I only had mashed potatoes but I honestly wasn't hungry anyway and was only eating some to not be rude. Because my stomach hurts and I really just want to drink water and juice and not eat actual foodstuffs right now. I am trying my best to hold it together. Thankfully today I am not as nauseous and not as quick to run to throw up. So I think we're doing good.

But I just pulled up to the house and I am very excited to go to bed. I might take another shower even. And I hope about tomorrow is really good. Jess is going to come a little early and Callie's going to meet us at the house and then we're going to go to the flower Mart! I'm so excited I haven't gone to the flower bar in forever! Cuz we missed it last year we were on our honeymoon. So I'm really looking forward to that and then in the evening is our housewarming. And we have a couple friends coming over and James is going to make interesting food things and I'm really excited to just show people our little house.

I hope that you guys all have a great night and you take care of yourselves. I love you all. Good night.

[butmakeitgayblog]

I’d like to know how Clarke and Lexa start talking at Gus’, how does it go from Clarke being disinterested in anything having to do with Lexa Dorkus Woods to Lexa helping Clarke study? And from that to just basically hanging out?

Honestly it just starts by accident.

After that initial run in with Lexa at Gus's where she basically made Clarke feel like an idiot for being so pretentious (and technically rude, but Clarke chooses not to think of it that way 😤) about coffee in the quaint little shop, and then the fucking debacle at the gay bar that followed, Clarke kind of has a very annoying itch to go back and set things right.

Not as in to apologize for either run-in.

No, she wants to go in there and set the record straight that she is Not some privileged big city twat. That actually,,,, Lexa was the rude one, if you really think about it, because she didn't even know Clarke like that. And also, like, ok, her point still stands. Who the hell doesn't have an espresso machine in a bookstore/bakery shop?!

Basically Lexa had gotten under her skin and Clarke really fuckin hated how she couldn't seem to shake it. So, bright and early a few days later after her initial bruised ego had quit smarting quite so much Clarke marches herself back across town and all but slams her way into the shop.

Which is... anticlimacticly empty.

So much for a grand entrance.

Instead she's left standing at the counter for a good 5 minutes, working really hard to keep up the head of steam she had created on the walk over. Eventually she just starts to wander around the place, realizing pretty quickly that in her 18 years of life she'd never taken the time to actually do that. Had always just blown throw the place with her rag-tag group of friends in tow whenever they'd scrounged up enough money to buy a few treats, before blowing right back out again.

She runs her fingers over the extensive collection of arts and science books. Kinda marvels at the fact that such a relatively small space could house such a wide and meandering selection. She sees titles that range from the antiquities to the turn of modern art, and honestly nothing about any of these scream out titles Old Man Woods would have chosen to line his shelf.

She's not really paying much attention to what she's doing. More engrossed in just being nosy and trying to see what other treasures this funky little place has when she opens a door she assumes goes to another selection, but instead finds herself standing on the shop's back porch...

... With a set of round green eyes staring right at her.

"Uhh," is her extremely intelligent response. Because every last word of her well rehearsed tirade flies out of her head at the site of prim and proper Miss. Perfect Lexa sitting on a glider, smoking a cigarette.

"If you were looking for the bathroom, turn around and take a left."

Head still completely due to the fact that she's fairly certain she's stepped into the goddamn Twilight Zone for the second time in one week, Clarke lets her eyes follow the path of the glowing tip as Lexa brings the cigarette up and takes another drag.

"Those will kill you, ya know," is really all her short circuiting brain can manage.

Lexa snorts out a laugh without any hint of a smile through an exhaled cloud of smoke.

"Now that would be ironic."

It feels like Lexa's making fun of her. Like she in on some joke that Clarke is just too stupid to possibly ever get. And, oh right, that actually reminds her, she'd come here for a reason.

But... trying to refind that same righteous indignation is so much easier said than done. Really just finds herself frowning. Because, yet again, it's occurring to her that while she'd thought she'd known this girl to a T, it's becoming obvious she knows nothing. Which wouldn't bother her that much... except she'd spent the better part of her life convinced that she did. But putting that image up against this new vibrant one of an openly gay women who drank and smoked cigarettes?

Suddenly nothing about this girl made any sense.

It takes Lexa snapping her fingers a few times to get her attention which is fuuuucking humiliating.

"What?" she practically bites back because how is she constantly on her back foot with this girl?

But all Lexa does is tip her head to the side like a puppy. Considers her with those searching, soulful eyes for a moment before speaking.

"I asked if I you where here for a coffee or something," Lexa says, using the hand still holding the half-burned cigarette to motion to the porch around her. "Though, I have to warn you. We don't keep a secret cappuccino machine stashed back here either."

Little shit...

Clarke rolls her eyes. "Very funny. And yes, I was. Or. I am. But there wasn't anyone —"

Why the fuck does she make Clarke feel so jumbled and undone...

"Right, of course," Lexa cuts her off in a flourish, snuffing out the cigarette on the bottom of her shoe and popping the butt back into the pack. She's up and out of her seat before Clarke can really even finish the entire thought. "Black, no sugar, two pumps of creamer, right?"

"Uh. Yeah," is the only thought Clarke can dumbly string together at her surprise that Lexa would even remember.

The next thought has her eyes staying glued to the red and white pack still in her grasp.

Call it an instinct after having been raised by a doctor for the first 18 years of her life. Call it a petty and childish need to shock this girl just to get even. Call it payback for constantly managing to make her feel so off balance and seeing an opportunity for revenge. Whatever it is that fuels her next movements, Clarke doesn't really bother to think about it as she stops her with an innocent, "Can I see those real quick?" and reaches out the second Lexa moves to step past her to snatch the pack right out of her hand.

Clarke feels victorious in the moment when she can't get more than a garbled yelp of "Hey," out before they're both watching the pack fly in a wide arc through the air and land scattered across the alley about four businesses down.

Lexa looks back at her with wide-eyed shock.

Clarke just shrugs and gives her a grin.

"They slipped."

Lexa is not amused.

But strangely doesn't argue.

She just storms back inside and goes about making up Clarke's order, pointedly putting it down on the counter in front of her in a To Go cup.

Naturally, Clarke decides that's actually an invitation for her to kick back and stay awhile. And that the stoney silence that settles between them for the rest of the morning means she really must come back the next day as well 😈

One day turns into two. Two turns into three, and before Clarke knows what's happening, she's been to the little book shop every single day that week.

But she never catches Lexa with a cigarette again...