#Image Processing Project Help

[4giorno]

so hard when you dont know if the drawing youre working on is a case of "trust the process and it will be great" or "just delete it and start over and itll be great on the next attempt"

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

[echoekhi]

I’m Declaring War Against “What If” Videos: Project Copy-Knight

What Are “What If” Videos?

These videos follow a common recipe: A narrator, given a fandom (usually anime ones like My Hero Academia and Naruto), explores an alternative timeline where something is different. Maybe the main character has extra powers, maybe a key plot point goes differently. They then go on and make up a whole new story, detailing the conflicts and romance between characters, much like an ordinary fanfic.

Except, they are fanfics. Actual fanfics, pulled off AO3, FFN and Wattpad, given a different title, with random thumbnail and background images added to them, narrated by computer text-to-speech synthesizers.

They are very easy to make: pick a fanfic, copy all the text into a text-to-speech generator, mix the resulting audio file with some generic art from the fandom as the background, give it a snappy title like “What if Deku had the Power of Ten Rings”, photoshop an attention-grabbing thumbnail, dump it onto YouTube and get thousands of views.

In fact, the process is so straightforward and requires so little effort, it’s pretty clear some of these channels have automated pipelines to pump these out en-masse. They don’t bother with asking the fic authors for permission. Sometimes they don’t even bother with putting the fic’s link in the description or crediting the author. These content-farms then monetise these videos, so they get a cut from YouTube’s ads.

In short, an industry has emerged from the systematic copyright theft of fanfiction, for profit.

Project Copy-Knight

Since the adversaries almost certainly have automated systems set up for this, the only realistic countermeasure is with another automated system. Identifying fanfics manually by listening to the videos and searching them up with tags is just too slow and impractical.

And so, I came up with a simple automated pipeline to identify the original authors of “What If” videos.

It would go download these videos, run speech recognition on it, search the text through a database full of AO3 fics, and identify which work it came from. After manual confirmation, the original authors will be notified that their works have been subject to copyright theft, and instructions provided on how to DMCA-strike the channel out of existence.

I built a prototype over the weekend, and it works surprisingly well:

On a randomly-selected YouTube channel (in this case Infinite Paradox Fanfic), the toolchain was able to identify the origin of half of the content. The raw output, after manual verification, turned out to be extremely accurate. The time taken to identify the source of a video was about 5 minutes, most of those were spent running Whisper, and the actual full-text-search query and Levenshtein analysis was less than 5 seconds.

The other videos probably came from fanfiction websites other than AO3, like fanfiction.net or Wattpad. As I do not have access to archives of those websites, I cannot identify the other ones, but they are almost certainly not original.

Armed with this fantastic proof-of-concept, I’m officially declaring war against “What If” videos. The mission statement of Project Copy-Knight will be the elimination of “What If” videos based on the theft of AO3 content on YouTube.

I Need Your Help

I am acutely aware that I cannot accomplish this on my own. There are many moving parts in this system that simply cannot be completely automated – like the selection of YouTube channels to feed into the toolchain, the manual verification step to prevent false-positives being sent to authors, the reaching-out to authors who have comments disabled, etc, etc.

So, if you are interested in helping to defend fanworks, or just want to have a chat or ask about the technical details of the toolchain, please consider joining my Discord server. I could really use your help.

------

See full blog article and acknowledgements here: https://echoekhi.com/2023/11/25/project-copy-knight/

[ms-demeanor]

Why reblog machine-generated art?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Also because it's just patently untrue.

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

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

I liked it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[literalgrill]

Do NOT Support Hard Drive On Patreon

You might see friends today suggesting you support Hard Drive on Patreon today. You know, the funny video games version of The Onion? As a journalist, I will firmly tell you DO NOT GIVE THEM A DIME.

The CEO has pushed out all former staff that have built the site up to its current greatness and has been pushing the use of AI. The staff begged to have a Patreon before basically all being pushed out, but the idea was refused until now, when it will only line the pockets of a single person instead of hard working writers.

I know they might have provided laughs before, but Hard Drive is a shell of what it was once. Let it die and support the people who actually made those moments of joy possible. Don't believe me? Check out what former employees are saying below:

Kevin Podas: Okay you know what, I would feel bad saying nothing about this, so here goes:🚨SAVE YOUR MONEY🚨

We passionately advocated for a Patreon at Hard Drive & were aggressively shot down. The talent & people who built the site were pushed out. To see this now is beyond upsetting. For the past few years or so I put a lot of myself into this website. I pitched a ton of jokes, got over 120 articles published, & met a lot of great people. I'm sure if you've been following me for some time you could easily see this.

However, there is a lot of misinformation. I was eventually promoted to Managing Editor of the site & was ecstatic. Grateful for the opportunity. Felt like all of my hard work in the comedy mines was finally paying off. But things took a turn for the worst, & each day there were new surprises that affected our livelihoods. These were all very avoidable surprises, mind you.

A patreon was going to be our hail mary, but alas, for some reason, the power that be did not want it. Causing us to leave a dream job behind. "At least we did all we could," we consoled ourselves afterwards. I put a lot of myself into this project. I pitched all sorts of ideas that could have helped-- we all did. Merch collaborations, Patreon-integrated YouTube content, so much more. And most of them were shot down out of sheer stubbornness and nothing more. To see lie after lie spread, and multiple big publications and YouTubers that I am a fan of promote this Patreon under these pretenses is incredibly upsetting. There are so many receipts.

Please share this and consider pulling out if you've already put money into this. On Hard Drive using AI, also from Kevin Podas: I can't personally confirm that part aside from some of the recent header images for articles on both Hard Drive and Hard Times are being made with AI. As far as writing, it's been mentioned in the past, but I personally do not know. Maybe others do, maybe not. MORE From Kevin Podas suggesting the owner denying a Patreon being set up earlier cost an artist a job that was replaced by AI: We had a social media person who was awesome! He made the images until this AI implementation. He had to leave because ad revenue was low and a Patreon was aggressively refused.

Luca Fisher: at the risk of burning some bridges, i have to back up kevin here. i've only been part-time, in-and-out of hard drive since i got in last year, but i can corroborate that management doubled and tripled down about not hosting a patreon/crowdfunding and that many other suggestions and ideas, including mine (and ones much smarter than mine!), were shot down in really long, apocalyptic threads of everyone left on deck desperately trying to come up with ways to keep the lights on. managerially it has been messy and sad

i've written for multiple publications that have long since died, ones that were in the process of dying, and ones that, in this case, are soon to be put in the ground. it is sad and sucks every time. i don't know what could have been done differently, but i do know that a lot of great writers and content creators were left shorthanded and unhappy by the way things have gone. and it is sort of puzzling to see the sudden championing of patreon after we were all told plenty of times that it couldn't work and we should move on also, just to add my own personal two cents here, i was really disappointed by the shuttering of many different article sections on the site over the past 6-8 months. i understand cutting corners in a deficit, and i know it had to be done. that said…

all in all, i'm really sad to see this all happen. i don't fault anyone, if only because i don't really know enough about how this all can happen to make sense of it. games journalism is in a sad, sorry state, and will likely no longer be a thing in the next decade

VideoSealMan: I'm gonna say this because I think I deserve to. For months, MONTHS on end I was bugging Hard Drive management about a Patreon. Often I got ignored for a week+, but when I actually got a response I was encouraged to - of all things, write up a Google Doc pitching the concept I did it regardless. I wasn't the only one trying to sway management on a Patreon, but so fiercely was I fighting for it that last night, I was accused of making this comment directly by the CEO! With no evidence whatsoever! After I'd been gone for over a month.

I vouched so hard for Patreon because I wanted all the writers and creatives working with Hard Drive including myself to get paid better. When I actually got a response, the idea was often shut down. Eventually due to the state of my company, my pay was cut for a second time I confronted management alongside a couple other important figureheads at the org and told them that if we couldn't do a Patreon - I could no longer financially justify staying there. The answer was still no, so I left. Baffled at the decision, but whatever.

It is unendingly frustrating to know that myself and many other people who put their soul into Hard Drive LEFT because of management's absolute refusal to compromise on a Patreon, to then see them launch one anyway a month later and get over 1000 people pledging money. I'm seeing a lot of things float around about greed and people being fired. No one was fired. Everyone who left, left because they were sick of management's decision-making. And honestly, management is a lot of things but I would not call them greedy. (From my experience.) They did genuinely make an effort to pay people as much as possible. I found the pay very fair for a while. I am not disputing that I was paid what I was owed - yet management frequently feels the need to remind critics of that. Lmao, yes. I was paid what I was owed. No one is disputing payment. You did the bare minimum a business owner should do and paid everyone their due, very well done. I make no allegations of greed, cheating or foul play. I make allegations of poor management and incompetence that has fucked over other people.

Basically the only people left at Hard Drive have been there for about 2 months. They will reap the rewards of this successful Patreon I and so many others passionately fought for for so long. We will not see a dime.

I do not know the new people at Hard Drive, But I feel bad for them. They were haphazardly thrust into Hard Drive's workplace with little to no explanation on how anything works, or given any context on the state of the place. Even now managements feeds them half-truths and misinformation about other people's grievances. I am broke and have been for a while. I had to move out of my flat in Reading and back with my family because of how little money I was making. This has basically doomed my flatmate to moving back in with abusive parents, which is something I feel guilty about every day. If we had gone with the Patreon I worked myself hoarse over back then, this could have been avoided. Some of my other good pals could also not have been fucked over.

It was a bad judgment call, but it's not a crime. It's just management getting it wrong.

So should you give to the Hard Drive Patreon? I don't know! I don't think any of the new people working there to patch up the holes left by the recent mass exodus have any bad intentions. Maybe they deserve it! But it is not the same site you knew a year ago, or even a month ago. Myself and many people who were there far longer than me and did far more for it than I did are all gone now because we could not deal with management's terrible decision-making and dogass communication any longer. That's what you should know, imo

I had an agreement in place with management that I would receive the next 8 months of revenue from the Hard Drive YT channel from my leaving in November. This was a deal I appreciated, and thought was very fair on management's behalf. So far, the deal has been honoured for 2 months. However as of last night I was removed from the Hard Drive Slack without warning, and as an editor for the YouTube channel. This means I no longer have any way of verifying how much I am owed, I just have to take their word for it. I'm sure management will make their own statements full of half-truths and weird language on the many cases being brought against them - I'd take everything they say with a pinch of salt if some of the screenshots I've seen of them talking about me are any indication lol

To management; I do not want to talk to you. I want you to DM me a screenshot of how much I'm owed every month and then send me the money per our agreement until June, then we can go our separate ways. Do that and admit to your mistakes, and maybe you can recover your reputation! That's it from me, lol. If they pull out of the deal and fuck me over I'll have more to say, but most of what I know is other people's stories of incompetence and poor decision-making, lol. I genuinely get no pleasure out of doing this; I do not think management is evil - I just think they're really bad at what they do and it's cost other, more talented people, lol. You should believe the writers imo

One last thing I wanna say btw, management did often stress that no one should try to make Hard Drive a full time thing. They were transparent about that, and that is fair. I was working on it because at a few points, I was lead to believe we actually were doing a Patreon. Many other ppl have similar stories of being strung along by management changing their minds and stop-starting shit every 2 weeks. We all made the fatal mistake of overestimating our manager - who would tell you one thing one day and something totally opposite the next week lol

Hunter R. Thompson:

I'm not your dad, but speaking as a Hard Drive writer, I don't know that funding Hard Drive on Patreon is worth it

The driving talent on the back end—behind the kickass site I joined in 2019—have peaced out over the years as the site's been (in our view) increasingly mismanaged. Mismanagement like, not setting up crowdfunding before the ship sank and all its best crew failed; or publishing a screenshot of Andy Ngo pedojacketing a trans writer, complete with her deadname; or a disgruntled ex-writer getting falsely accused of shit-talk, by actual staff. I'm grateful for the writing I've gotten to produce for HD (and will forever be kicking myself for not writing even more, in the four years I've had to do it!! i'm a dumbass!!!) but it is very much no longer the site I signed up for.

I don't want to resign as a contributor altogether, because I'm open to the idea of the site recovering and bad practices being retired as finances level out-- it would just be dishonest for potential backers to not be Aware Of The Circumstances, I think.

Jeremy Kaplowitz: i truly don't want to start shit, but feel compelled to say: i want to see Hard Drive succeed w/o resorting to throwing former writers & editors, myself included, under the bus. surely there's a way to save the site without building it over the corpses of those who left. my $0.02 i don't blame anyone who wants to sign up for the HD patreon and i support the website, but that includes those who worked on it for years, have complaints, and don't deserve to be treated like bitter assholes like this kind of stuff is just objectively true, meanwhile there's these new writers who joined the site after i left (meaning, in the last ~3 months) claiming people are liars. decide for yourself if you care, but this is what happened! [Quotes this Tweet]

Seth Finkelstein: Writing for Hard Drive has been a privilege the past few years, and it makes me so angry to see people I looked up to get jerked around behind the scenes. The amount of grenades the editors jumped on our behalf is immense, and I don't think the way they're being treated is right.

Other Bits On AI: We do know for sure however that AI art has been used by the site. Its fucking owner confirms it here:https://twitter.com/MattSaincome/status/1743040541603123622. Seems the owner pushed AI written articles as well! TayFabe: My vaguetweet is making the rounds & these made me apoplectic. - owner regularly lobbied using ai. Once he tested it & said ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. - ai images were used on the site & socials w/o consulting the team or disclosing it publicly I found the ai bit relevant to include bc 1) it illuminates a stark change in HD's current direction & leadership, 2) ai images have previously been used on the site and (since deleted) ig posts, 3) ai content fucking sucks, and repeatedly pushing to use it is a telling quality The "handful of writers who chose to leave" includes 2 editors-in-chief (both cofounders who wrote a combined total of >1,000 articles & defined the voice of HD), & at least 3 other editors. These guys put in WORK since 2017, so cool to be corrected by ppl who joined in Nov 2023 [Link to mentioned vague tweet from post.] More from TayFabe: owner continuously lobbied for using ai in every possible way. No one else wanted to do it, but he kept on, saying ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. Also, ai images were used on the site & socials without public disclosure or consulting the team.

The owner has responded now multiple times in a private discord... Thank you for people sharing screenshots! First Screenshot:

Kevin's Response: He banned me from the server for speaking out, so no, I didn't see it. And he gave no indication of a timeline, it was just "we'll do one when *I* say so" and gave every inclination he was totally against it. It bred an environment that pushed our hands to have to leave. Screenshot Round Two:

Kevin's Response: "Starting one in 3 months" is an absolute lie. He denied it, I have screenshots and others who can confirm. No timeline was given. Just "this is what it is now" and like, I couldn't live off of that. I wanted to do more but he was allergic to good ideas from others around him.

Matt, owner of Hard Drive, responds publicly on Twitter.

Matt: Kevin, the patreon launch was delayed because I didn't think it would work. Everyone is happy that it did work. Everyone who left the site because we didn't have money to pay for creative content which didn't revenue is welcome to return home. But unclear why the hostility.

Hard Drive paid out literally every dollar it had, then a bunch more, to creative people who worked on the site. When we ran out of money, we couldn't pay anymore. We did our best.

Kevin: Right, and my point of this thread was that it was completely and totally avoidable. This is reasonable to be upset about. How could I have been any more clear?

Matt: If we knew with 100% certainly that the community would have supported us via patreon, we would have done that. We didn't know. We had tried 4 years ago and got no support. We were wrong this time. We did our best to figure it out. We paid all the money we could.

Kevin: So you knew with 100% certainty this time? Or you took a leap of faith?

Matt: It was a last gasp panic effort after ad rates got cut in half on january 1st due to seasonal spending changes. We didn't know it would work. We were embarrassed to ask for support. We wanted to figure it out.

Kevin: Every site has a Patreon. Every YouTuber, comedy group, etc. But you insisted that nobody cared about Hard Drive. Which is wildly untrue. I know you see that now, but again, I think you can see why I and many others are pretty upset. A last ditch panic effort was long overdue. A couple more things from Matt:

It was about the size of the hole we needed plugged budget wise, the time I had left of personal resources, and the past data I had about us trying a patreon (which turned out to be a bad indicator). I didn't think the Patreon would help us fast enough. I made a bad estimation

aka "if we make $1000 more dollars a month via patreon, which would be 10x what we got last time, we will not solve any of our problems. If instead we try to plow down path B, we might make it out in time." That was the thinking. I chose the wrong path, but didn't mean to Kevin also retweeted this comment from the user Matt was responding to: So you're saying that you're bad at running the business, didn't listen to any of your employees until after they were forced to leave their jobs, and now you're going to get more of the money from the Patreon that was their idea in the first place? Matt's Response: Respectfully, I made a mistake delaying the patreon decision. But keeping a comedy site alive for 9 years is not easy, there are lots of potential ideas, and think overall we've done a good and honorable job. Will leave this thread in peace now to allow people their space.

Sorry for linking to Elon's hellsite (derogatory), but sources need links so...

[twitter-sakuranokaze]

FF14 Battle Portrait Tutorial

For the past few weeks I was trying to find a way to recreate the battle portrait from FF14 as there was a few characters that I want to see in that style but don't officially have one yet. I think I got it down more or less (see image below) so I thought it's a good time to share what I did.

First of all, I made a few files that would help make life a little easier. They can be grabbed here .

Note: I did use Reshade to do a bit of work at the screenshot stage to help speed up the process but the same effect can be recreated in Photoshop with a vanilla screenshot. There are a lot of tutorials on how to do comic/cartoon effect in photoshop and those would make good bases to work off of.

Step 1: Take the screenshot with the PortraitBase Shader on. I usually take two screenshots. One with "Comic" on and one with it turned off. This is so that I have more to work with if needed.

Step 2: Drag all the screenshots into photoshop and remove the background. In photoshop, arrange the layer so that the screenshot with the Comic lines visible is on top of the one with the effect off.

Step 3: Duplicate the the layer with the "comic" effect and apply Blur->Gaussian blur (radius 0.5)

Step 4: Take a look at the hair. In Eric's case, It still doesn't look blur enough to me so I used the blur tool and blurred it a bit more

Step 5: Create a new layer above the layer in the previous step and use the brush tool to start outlining the edges. Where to outline is up to you but the idea is to make edges defined so that it looks more like a drawing.

Step 6: Duplicate the outline layer and then hide that layer. Step 7: Merge everything under the outline layer. Step 8: Drag and drop the "Texture.png" into the project and Clip it to your character layer. Set the blending of the texture to "soft light". Step 9: Drag and drop the "stroke Texture.png" into the project and Clip it to your character layer. Adjust the size till you are happy then set the blending to "overlay". Step 10: Adjust the opacity settings of both texture layers until it looks good to you.

Step 11: Click on your character layer and go to image->Adjustments->Hue/Saturation (note: you will see I dragged in the official Hades portrait as a point of reference to work off of). Adjust the saturation till you are happy.

Step 12: Go to image->Adjustments->Color Balance and adjust the color till you are happy. In this example, since Eric is also wearing the Sophist robe, I tried to match that color to Hades' Sophist robe color.

Step 13: Once you are happy, drag the "Template.png" into the project and scale that to the size you want. Make sure it is completely covering the character. If it's not, you can just use paint more of it with the brush tool to extend it till it covers everything.

Step 14: Hide the "template.png" layer and select your character layer. Use the magic wand tool to select the outside of the character.

Step 15: With the selection still selected, click on the "Template.png" layer and press delete on your keyboard. You should now be left with a blank in the shape of your character.

Step 16: Drag the"Template.png" layer to be below your character layer. Then click on your character layer and clip it.

Step 17: Click on the "Template.png" layer and add a 2px stroke and shadow to it.

Step 18: Drag "Back_Deco.png" into the project and place it behind your character. Scale it till you are happy with it.

And that's it! Now you can recreate portraits for any NPCs that you want (in theory). A lot of it is also fine tuning to what you want but this should at least give you a decent base to work off of :)

[kaivenom]

One piece men first reaction to having a wet dream about you

Characters: Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Kid, Killer, Law

Warnings: NSFW, obviously

A/N: i am starting to think that i will put some of the future preferences with multiple parts, to give the One Piece Dilf a place too.

Masterlist

Monkey D. Luffy

Is surprised, a lot. He was dreaming about meat and suddently it transformed in your body, naked.

The cream of cakes and the juices from the meat covering all your body in a revealing pose.

When he oppened his eyes, he stared at the ceiling trying to process why you were on his dream.

Then he realized how his stomach felt strange and his pants incredibly tight.

He knew that feeling wasn't from hunger, so he let his hand travel to his crotch and palm it thru the underwear.

It felt really good, he finally slided his hand on his underwear and started to pump slowly his cock.

All he could think about is your body and how good would that image look in front of him.

When he was on the edge of cumming, he realized that maybe it he should go talk to you.

A broken moan escaped his lips while he got up from the bed, with a painfully hard member.

He needed to know if you can help him.

Roronoa Zoro

He feels "horrified", he tents to avoid feelings, talks or being emotional involved with anyone.

So, when he dream about you sucking him off with a smile, he got into a really bad mood.

Everyone noticed but nobody could know why, he got especially tense when you were around.

The end point came on lunch, when he had to saw you eat a hot dog, his mind went crazy of reminiscing all the things from his dream.

He went fast to the crow's net and tried to workout all the feelings away.

He got hard, really hard, to the point he couldn't concentrate on nothing.

After a whole hour of changing exercizes furiously, he sat down, trembling, sweating and whimpering... but not from the workout.

With a dissapointed grunt he started to jerk off, at first crusing your name with irritation and at the end letting out breathless moans.

He cummed a lot, all over his body. His only thought while he was heading to the showers was not to bump into you.

Vinsmoke Sanji

His hand was on his pants even before he wakes up.

He moans, whimpers and sights with every touch he imagine you do to him.

The vision of your breasts bouncing while you ride him, unable to touch you because his hands are tied up, that drives him crazy.

He doesn't know if he is still asleep or he is already awake, but he cums undone with a really loud moan.

He is not very good at pretending or trying to be quiet.

Then he felt bad about dishonoring you, but felt sooo good to him.

His day went crazy from there, having some avoidant attachment we could say.

He changes between being your living servant and licking your feet to locking himself on the kitchen.

You didn't understand that, it was really weird, but in fact, he gets away to hide the boner you make him feel.

He usually controls his impulses but after that dream he can't keep his hands out of himself.

He really wanted to aproach you on the kitchen and eat you out there, but he can't .... and then he feels bad about imagine it again.

He has a huge conflict between his desires and his chivalry.

Trafalgar Law

He feels ... unproffesional, he is your captain and you are his subordinate, he can't dream about that.

He tries to stay away from you, not from guilt but from embarrasment, from seeing you and only picturing your body riding him while he presses his chest against yours.

Then as the day passed by he starts to get closer to you, not conscientiously but his body someone tried to have some contact.

A little brush on the dinning room, setting himself behind you to get something on a "higher" shelf.

He tries to find excuses to see you alone, trying to have the courage to make a move... saying it to you or kissing you but he couldn't do it.

That lead to unnecesary visits to his office, helping him with some "new" projects on the lab, giving him books, etc.

At the end you spent all the day making stupid walks around the submarine and you got so angry you yelled at him.

He won't admit this part, but you made him hard with your yells at him.

Eustass Kidd

He gets up, not surprised at all to dream about you, he knows exactly what you do to him.

But dreaming about taking you from the back, all in four, his hands on your ass pressing firmly, that caught him out off guard.

He went to take a shower and couldn't resist to jack off under the hot water.

And It works, he is not hard anymore... Until he saw you later on the deck.

He is a very direct person but also a very arrogant one.

That results in having him trying to sound like a fuck boy, making you desire him and show it, before he even tells you he wants to fuck you.

Showing of his muscles and attributes, being extra confident and dominant thinking that the kind of stuff you like.

Once he realized he doesn't need to be that extravagant and just sit there and whisper naughty things on your ears, he will win his prize.

Killer

His dream his very connected with feelings becuase you two were in missionary, you looking at him with heart eyes full of love and lust. (without his helmet)

Goes straight forward to tell you.

Very mature from him, and plus having the helmet he can hide his blush.

When you go to take breakfast, he tells you, sounding very relaxed. He is trying to hide the fact that he is still hard.

He went so fast to tell you that his member didn't catch the message yet.

He presses his body to the counter trying to hide it.

He doesn't want to scary you or make you uncomfortable, he just wants to talk things.

After that, he tries to make distance a little bit to give you time to think.

But he can't help but give small glances to your body, he can't help it... and the helmet helps to be discreet.

[tsuutarr]

Concept: Yandere!Alice in Wonderland Characters (but it's only the White Rabbit for this piece) x Reader

“Wake up! Please, wake up!”

At the desperate call of the static-laden voice, your eyes groggily open. Your head hurts, thrumming with heavy noise. The artificial lights are too bright and yellow, staining your vision like aged-paper. It makes your headache worse.

“Oh no, are you ill?” a voice teeters. Face scrunched, you look up to see a screen hanging over you. A small image of a pixelated white rabbit flickers on and off. “Oh no, oh no… we’re so behind schedule…”

“What…” you being, head swirling. You don’t understand where you are or what’s happening. You don’t even really remember anything, for that matter. It makes you feel sick.

“Ah, I’m really sorry,” the pixelated rabbit apologizes, looking quite guilty. “Yes, yes, it’s quite a lot to take in…” 

Before you know it, the screen the pixelated rabbit is on moves closer to you. The blue light is bright, making you squint.

“Hello, [Alice],” it greets you softly. “My name is WH173-R48817, though most call me White Rabbit or White.”

“My name isn’t [Alice].” You’re not sure where that statement came from, but it feels wrong to be referred to as [Alice].

“Ah… Ah, yes, certainly,” White’s voice murmurs.“Apologies. What would you like to be called?”

You tell White a name – you’re not entirely sure where that name came from, but it feels right.

“Understood. I will refer to you as such.” With a comforting smile, White continues. “Now, as I was saying… I am the White Rabbit System, an AI system that helps manage things in this lab.”

“A lab?”

“Yes,” White responds. “We are currently in a laboratory.” 

Your eyes flicker around the room and it’s quite obvious now that you are, in fact, in a lab-like place. You’re comfortably resting on a surgery bed as jars of… body parts line the shelves around you.

“You are a part of the Wonderland Project as the most successful participant. Now that you’ve regained consciousness, we must exit the starting point.”

You stare at White blankly, its words doing very little to reveal anything substantial to you. However, White is far too frazzled to properly listen to you, going on its own little tangent. You didn’t think an AI could be so… anxious. 

“We’re already quite late!” it frets while you eye it. The screen White is on is embedded into some device on the wall. You doubt the device will be able to move outside of the room.

“How are you going to exit this place?” you ask. 

“Ah, look at me, being a klutz,” it sighs, somehow looking bashful despite being an AI. “A moment, please.” And just like that, the screen it was displayed on flickers off, the blue light fading away. Momentarily, you’re stunned, until you hear the soft footfalls approaching you. You turn your head to see a tall man with bunny ears.

“Greetings,” he says. His voice sounds like White’s, though a little deeper and more human. “I wondered which form would be the most efficient, and decided that this one would work best.”

“What.”

He continues walking closer to you as he talks. “I have a few bodies that I can connect my programming to. This is one of them.” When he finally reaches you, you can see how tall he is. He’s rather lanky and thin, but his height is enough to be intimidating. “Pardon me. I’m not that fond of touching others myself, but I have no choice,” he mutters, before reaching for you and cradling you in his arms faster than you can process what’s going on. “Hold on to me. We are quite behind schedule.”

“Behind schedule? For what?”

“The continuation of the Wonderland Project, of course.”

“And why exactly do I have to be a part of this project?”

White peers down at you curiously. “Well, isn’t it obvious?” he asks. “Because you’re the most important key, of course. We need you.”

With that, he leaves the room with you in his arms.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Good Omens graphic novel update: June 2024

Welcome to the June update. A lot of behind the scenes work at the moment but we're grabbing the travel sweets, popping in the Bentley and hitting the road. More on that below.

Admin

Ongoing reminder that the project FAQ can be found here. 

I pledged using my Apple ID, or no longer use the address my pledge is attached to, or I cannot work out what email address my pledge is connected to. What should I do? Please contact us via your Kickstarter account where the pledge is connected; we will be able to see on our system which address it is. If it's one you have access to, great! The FAQ has information on how to resend your invite link to access the PledgeManager. If it's one you are not able to access, then you can let us know which email is preferred and we can update this on the system, which will automatically send a new invite.

Events

We've had a lot of queries about when the Good Omens team will be attending events more formally, after some Aziraphale and Crowley spotting at conventions we'd been to previously. Well, we're excited to confirm the first: Good Omens HQ will be at ACME Comic Con in Glasgow, Scotland this September.

We'll be bringing the actual-real-life-home-to-Crowley-and-his-plants Bentley from Season 2 of Good Omens, the first time the car has been made available publicly for fans to come see and get photos with, ahead of its journey back to the set and the start of Season 3 filming.

We also see Quelin Sepulveda, aka Muriel, has been announced for the event for some additional ineffable joy.

You can get your tickets for ACME Comic Con here. We hope to see some of you there.

While we won't be rocking up with the Bentley to this next one, we want to let you know about Ineffable Con which, though sold out in person, is also taking place virtually in July. The fan-run event hosts great panels, auctions and more, with money raised going to Alzheimer’s Research UK, in memory of Sir Terry Pratchett.

Where next? We have - not an exaggeration - a list of about 200 events somewhere from when we asked fans this on Instagram and while we can't promise quite that amount of convention attendance, we're certainly looking to do some more things in future with Good Omens at large. Watch this space.  

Good Omens items...

This month has largely seen prototypes and samples for the wider Good Omens merch store arriving, and while we can't share those yet, we are certainly excited to see more fan product suggestions coming to life. That does, however, leave our public item updates a little slim on the ground.

To make up for that, here's some new panels from Colleen:

Also known as, "What could possibly go wrong?" And:

Also known as, "Well why don't you ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ▇▇!@#▇" or words to that effect, we'd imagine.  

Update from Colleen

Following such a positive response to Colleen's piece last month, bringing you behind the scenes into making the Good Omens graphic novel, we are delighted to say that she has agreed to write something for our updates going forward! For June, she's going more in depth into the process of flatting and the technicalities of colouring on screen vs print. Over to you, Colleen.

---

I mentioned the other month that I use a flatter to help me with technical work on GOOD OMENS, and here is a great example.

This is my original, hand drawn line art.

And this is the flatting file which was created using the MultiFill computer program.

It will put your eyes out.

The raw image above demonstrates how the color art lines up solidly under the line art. If it doesn't do that, you get a weird phenomenon in print called ghosting, a tiny little line of white around each segment of color. I had this issue on one major project and ended up redoing every single color file after I got a look at the first printing. Nearly two weeks of work.

The same image with the line art on top.

The layer order looks like this.

Background copy is the clean, line art layer.

I scan the art at 600 dpi, then make the blacks pure black, the whites pure white. Then I convert back to greyscale, then RGB, then duplicate the layer. Then I delete the white on the upper layer so the line art layer is transparent but the blacks on that layer are not.

If you have blacks on a layer that has been multiplied, you can see slight color through those blacks. You want pure black.

The lower layer is where I use the MultiFill program to create the digital flats. First you use MultiFill to drop in the random colors, then the companion plug-in Flatter Pro to make those colors seal under the black lines.

This probably sounds like a silly thing to worry about, but if the flat colors don’t line up perfectly under the black line art, you get the dreaded ghosting I mentioned. You can see it below in this image. It’s a tiny little white line that will appear around the black lines and color areas.

This drives me nuts and is an absolute nightmare to fix.

It’s a very common problem, especially for people who work for web and don’t anticipate the problems going from web to print.

What looks great on your computer can cause big problems in print.

From here, my flatter Jul Mae Kristoffer, who is way over in the Philippines, does flatting that is more in keeping with the areas of color I want to isolate. As you see on Layer 1.

But again, this is still pretty ugly, and not what I would use for final color. Flatting is a technical issue, not a creative one, though in some cases a flatter will make choices you may use. Most of the time they don't.

Here is my final color page.

Sometimes my MultiFill flats are so wonky I have a hard time getting my brain to snap out of what I see before me. If I get stuck, it's a good idea to just pick at it and come back to it later.

If it really, really bothers me, I’ll take the MultiFill flatter layer and desaturate the color so it doesn’t poke my eyes out.

Here’s an example. The digital flat file.

The desaturated flat file that doesn’t make me want to poke my eyes out.

And the final color.

Sometimes I just put in a solid white layer so I don’t see the flats at all. Flatting is there to allow you to easily pick spots to color in, and doesn’t usually appear in the final work.

Sometimes I want to create my colors using transparent color over a white ground, which is more delicate in the final.

Here’s an example from Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. I also selected all black line art here and converted it to sepia to give it a vintage look. Except for the fairies. They’re green.

A colorist must also consider color settings.

Different clients can have different requirements. I find these color settings, which I got from the Hi-Fi Studio, to be pretty solid. I use them as my default for all my projects unless otherwise requested. If your publisher has other settings, they’ll usually send you a csf file which you can upload to Photoshop. The program will save your files and you can just switch between them as you need them.

This tells the printer things about the paper and the spread of the ink you will use. That’s what dot gain means - it makes printed color look darker than intended, so you set up your files to account for it.

When you hover your pointer over each box, it will tell you what each setting is supposed to accomplish.

Another really important thing to consider when coloring comics is color range.

I’m coloring this book in RGB range, but for print you use CMYK.

I’m about to confuse the heck out of some people with this post, I’m afraid. But here we go.

Here is this shot in RGB color setting.

And here is the same page calibrated for print in CMYK.

The biggest shift is in the reds. Print cannot match those reds.

You may not see much difference here, but it’s the sort of thing that drives artists crazy.

A computer should be perfect for conveying exactly what you want, right? It's all just 0's and 1's, binary information, and that information should be the same from one computer to the next?

Nope. Not even close.

First off, computer monitors must be calibrated. You can use a computer program or a tool that measures the color on your computer screen and then adjusts the color to an industry standard.

Have you ever been in an electronics shop where a bunch of TV shows were on display, all of them playing the same show, and have you noticed how different the color was from one TV to the next?

It's like that.

I freely admit I don't pay a whole lot of attention to calibration, but if I were a professional photographer I would. I'd have a little spectrometer attached to my screen and software would adjust my monitor to the best possible standard range. As it is, I just use the default setting on my computer and hope for the best.

If your monitor is properly calibrated and your art is shown on another monitor that is properly calibrated, the art will look almost identical from one monitor to the next.

YAY!

But from one monitor to the next, that's about where the resemblance ends.

Colors are calibrated to something called RGB, or Red, Green, Blue.

All colors come from a mix of red green and blue. At their greatest intensity, all the colors in the spectrum together become pure white light.

This is why RGB is called ADDITIVE color, because you ADD colors from the spectrum to get ALL colors, and all colors create the entirety of the rainbow, and pure white light.

Your computer monitor, your phone, your television, all images are created via light using RGB, a gamut that covers all possible colors that can be created.

That's a lot.

And that's why some of the colors you see on your TV or phone are so deep and intense.

For the widest possible range of color and intensity, you use RGB.

Unfortunately, there is what you can create with light, and then there is what you can create with pigment or ink. And that is why printing what you see on your computer almost never looks exactly like what you see in a book.

For printing, you must use a color setting known as CMYK. This stands for Cyan, Magenta, Yellow and Key/Black.

In printing, the pure blue is actually Cyan and the pure red is actually Magenta.

CMYK color range is not created by addition, but by SUBTRACTION. In order to get the color you want, you reduce the percentage of one of the four colors for ink mixing. Mixing all colors, instead of giving you white, gives you black.

The gamut of CMYK is limited to what can be created with ink.

You've probably heard the term four color press? This is what that means. Four colors, with each color of ink run over the paper on rollers which, combined in varying layers of opacity, create all the printing colors you see.

But remember, what you see on your computer monitor and what CMYK gamut can handle are two different things.

Now, I’ve been really careful with the color settings on Good Omens, so there haven’t been any big surprises, but let me show you a snippet of a project I did for the French fashion house Balmain.

The RGB version:

And then this shot after it was converted to a CMYK file for print.

That's a pretty big difference.

Now, you see this shift mostly with vibrant colors, such as that pink there. But other colors hardly changed at all, right?

That's because this issue is about range of color. CMYK and RGB occupy a shared range which you can see demonstrated by this graphic I got from Wikipedia.

The graphic shows the RGB ranges supported by various digital formats. SWOP CMYK is the most common range my publishers use. Note that the bounding box line shared by the RGB and SWOP CMYK formats shares about half the range space. So whatever RGB colors you use that are outside that range will be digitally converted to the smaller SWOP CMYK range.

And you may not like what you end up with.

As you can see, some of the most ethereal and intense colors get lost outside of the SWOP CMYK boundary.

A look at the Dark Horse Comics color settings in Photoshop. Theoretically, this information should prevent your art from looking like mud on publication.

Now, after I just told you the dangers of coloring in RGB then converting to CMYK for print, I tell you I am coloring Good Omens in RGB anyway. There’s a couple of reasons for this.

Remember, RGB give you a greater range of color, so it can be to your advantage to preserve your original files using a format that gives you the greatest range.

Again, here is the unaltered file.

You can see what the CMYK result will be simply by clicking the Proof Colors button here. This will show you how the art will convert.

And the Gamut Warning will show you which colors are out of gamut range for print.

The intensity of that magenta and that purple in the top right are not going to print true.

This is how it will look in final.

So even if you do what you think is perfect color on screen, there is no way it can perfectly convert to print. Almost everything will involve a little bit of compromise.

Even though you have to consider the color shift issues, preserving your files in RGB gives you greater wiggle room, especially if you get lucky someday and get to work with a printer who can print in 6 colors. Or maybe some technology you don’t know about will pop up and make printing super glorious. Who knows.

Regardless, you should keep an eye on that gamut and color for CMYK print, while preserving your master files in RGB.

Until next time.

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - January 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. Landmark debt swap to protect Indonesia’s coral reefs

“The government of Indonesia announced this week a deal to redirect more than US$ 35 million it owes to the United States into the conservation of coral reefs in the most biodiverse ocean area on Earth.”

2. [FWS] Provides Over $1.3 Billion to Support Fish and Wildlife Conservation and Outdoor Access

“Through these combined funds, agencies have supported monitoring and management of over 500 species of wild mammals and birds, annual stocking of over 1 billion fish, operations of fish and wildlife disease laboratories around the country, and provided hunter and aquatic education to millions of students.”

3. Philippine Indigenous communities restore a mountain forest to prevent urban flooding

“Indigenous knowledge systems and practices are considered in the project design, and its leaders and members have been involved throughout the process, from agreeing to participate to identifying suitable land and selecting plant species that naturally grow in the area.”

4. Responsible Offshore Wind Development is a Clear Win for Birds, the U.S. Economy, and our Climate

“[T]he total feasible offshore wind capacity along U.S. coasts is more than three times the total electricity generated nationwide in 2023. […] Proven strategies, such as reducing visible lights on turbines and using perching deterrents on turbines, have been effective in addressing bird impacts.”

5. Illinois awards $100M for electric truck charging corridor, Tesla to get $40M

“The project will facilitate the construction of 345 electric truck charging ports and pull-through truck charging stalls across 14 sites throughout Illinois[…. E]lectrifying [the 30,000 daily long-haul] trucks would make a huge impact in the public health and quality of life along the heavily populated roadways.”

6. Reinventing the South Florida seawall to help marine life, buffer rising seas

“[The new seawall] features raised areas inspired by mangrove roots that are intended to both provide nooks and crannies for fish and crabs and other marine creatures and also better absorb some of the impact from waves and storm surges.”

7. Long Beach Commits to 100% All-Electric Garbage Trucks

“[Diesel garbage trucks] produce around a quarter of all diesel pollution in California and contribute to 1,400 premature deaths every year. Electric options, on the other hand, are quieter than their diesel counterparts and produce zero tailpipe emissions.”

8. ‘This Is a Victory': Biden Affirms ERA Has Been 'Ratified' and Law of the Land

“President Joe Biden on Friday announced his administration's official opinion that the amendment is ratified and its protections against sex-based discrimination are enshrined in the U.S. Constitution.”

9. A Little-Known Clean Energy Solution Could Soon Reach ‘Liftoff’

“Ground source heat pumps could heat and cool the equivalent of 7 million homes by 2035—up from just over 1 million today[…. G]eothermal energy is generally considered to be more popular among Republicans than other forms of clean energy, such as wind and solar.”

10. Researchers combine citizens' help and cutting-edge tech to track biodiversity

“Researchers in the project, which runs from 2022 to 2026, are experimenting with tools like drones, cameras and sensors to collect detailed data on different species, [… and] Observation.org, a global biodiversity platform where people submit pictures of animals and plants, helping to identify and monitor them.”

January 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[aspenmissing]

Hello!!! I hope you're doing well :D

I've had this idea in my head for a while, but what if reader lost her memory? Maybe from an accident or something? How would her partner help to bring them back? Maybe a song or a particular phrase or their favourite food or place? With the usual suspects, especially Jayce, Viktor, JayVik.

I hope this isn't too weird of a request 💗

ꜰʀᴀɢᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 7629 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛꜱ, ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇꜱ, ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ ʟᴏꜱꜱ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴘɪᴄᴇ/ᴍᴀᴋᴇᴏᴜᴛ (ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ᴇxᴘʟᴏꜱɪᴏɴꜱ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴇɴꜰᴏʀᴄᴇʀ ʙʀᴜᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ/ʙᴇᴀᴛᴇɴ(ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ!! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ, ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴡᴇɪʀᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ! ɪɴ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ! ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴛɪᴛɪᴠᴇ ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

The air was thick with the smell of smoke and metal, the clang of tools and machinery filling the workshop as Jayce worked on a new project, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was so close to something extraordinary, but the thought of Y/N occupied his mind, as always. She had been his anchor, his rock, even before they were lovers. He often found himself distracted by the image of her smile, the way her presence could calm his storm of thoughts.

Then it happened.

A deafening crash, a loud shriek, and the sound of machinery grinding against the stone. The world seemed to shake around him. Jayce’s heart raced as he sprinted toward the noise, his mind already fearing the worst. When he reached the source, he saw her, Y/N, lying unconscious beneath the wreckage. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, but her usual light was gone from her eyes.

He knelt beside her, his hands trembling as he checked for any signs of life. She was alive—barely—but injured. Her body was bruised, blood seeping from a gash on her head, her limbs twisted awkwardly. Panic surged through him, but he pushed it aside. Jayce knew there was no time for hesitation.

"Y/N, please," he whispered desperately, lifting her carefully into his arms and rushing her to safety.

=

The first thing Y/N felt was the cold, a sharp contrast to the warmth she was used to. Her eyes fluttered open, and the dim light of the room greeted her. It was unfamiliar, the walls were sterile, and the scent of antiseptic stung her nose. She tried to sit up, but the pain in her head was unbearable, and her vision blurred with the effort.

"Shh, easy now," a familiar voice murmured softly beside her. Y/N turned toward the sound, but when she looked at the man sitting next to her, there was a sense of confusion. His face was gentle, his expression filled with something she couldn’t place, but... who was he?

"Who are you?" she asked quietly, her voice hoarse as she tried to make sense of the situation. The weight of his touch on her arm was comforting, but it meant nothing to her. Her mind felt empty, as if all the pieces of her life had been swept away, leaving only this strange man by her side.

He froze, his hand stilling on her arm, and his eyes widened in shock. For a moment, his expression shifted between hope and concern, as though he was trying to process her words.

"You don’t... remember me?" His voice trembled slightly, disbelief flickering in his gaze. He leaned closer, his eyes scanning her face, searching for some sign that she recognized him. "It’s me, Jayce... We’ve been through so much together."

Y/N’s heart skipped at the mention of the name, but it meant nothing. She couldn’t remember it—couldn’t place it. "I don’t remember... anything," she whispered, her voice thick with panic. "I don’t even know how I got here."

Jayce’s face paled, the colour draining from him as he looked at her with a mixture of sadness and fear. "You don’t remember anything?" His voice cracked, the pain in it raw and unguarded. "Sweetheart, please, you have to remember."

Her chest tightened, a sense of panic clawing at her throat as she tried to make sense of the man in front of her, who seemed so familiar yet so distant. She searched for something—anything—in her mind that would tell her who he was, but there was nothing.

"I... I don’t remember you," she whispered, the weight of the admission sinking in.

The silence between them stretched, heavy and thick with unspoken emotions. Jayce seemed to collapse inward, but then he took a deep breath and forced a smile, though it was shaky and strained.

"That’s... okay," he said, his voice soft. "We’ll take it one step at a time. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together."

=

Days passed, each one a blur of hazy flashes. Y/N found herself in the same sterile room, Jayce never far from her side. He was always patient, always kind, always reassuring, but she felt like a stranger in her own skin. She would look at him—his broad shoulders, his deep blue eyes—and feel a tug of recognition, but the memories remained elusive, just out of reach.

"Tell me about us," Y/N asked one day, her voice tentative, unsure if she even had the right to ask. She needed to know something, anything that would ground her in the reality she could no longer remember.

Jayce hesitated, his gaze softening as he looked at her, then smiled wistfully. "You and me... we’ve been through a lot together." He leaned closer, his voice low and intimate. "We met years ago. You were my equal, my partner in every way. We built something amazing together, Y/N." His hand gently cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb across her skin. "We fell in love in a way that was... impossible to ignore. And no matter what, we always had each other."

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of his words. The emotions that seemed to stir within her—the love, the tenderness, the history—felt so familiar, yet foreign all at once. But it wasn’t enough. Her mind struggled to pull the details together, to reconnect the dots. The harder she tried, the more frustrated she became.

=

It was a quiet evening when it happened. Jayce had been working at his desk, his focus entirely on a set of complex calculations. Y/N had been sitting by the window, staring out at the stars, lost in her thoughts. Then, out of nowhere, a flash—a memory.

She was standing in the workshop, surrounded by all the half-finished inventions, the tools scattered across the table. Jayce was there, his hand reaching out for hers, pulling her toward him with a soft smile.

"We’re in this together," he had whispered, his voice full of certainty, love, and trust.

Y/N blinked, and the memory faded, but it left behind something profound—an undeniable feeling of connection. She knew it wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was real. It was their moment.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Jayce," she called out softly, her voice trembling with emotion.

He turned at the sound of her voice, his eyes wide, hoping, but unsure. "Y/N?"

She stood, slowly walking toward him, her steps cautious but certain. "I remember," she whispered, her voice full of awe. "I remember us. I remember... I remember you."

Jayce’s face lit up, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders as he rushed to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Thank the stars," he murmured, holding her close as if afraid she would slip away again. "I’ve been so scared. You’ve been through so much... I just wanted you back."

Y/N closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest, her heart pounding with the realization. "I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere."

The pieces clicked into place, the love, the memories, all falling into their rightful places. They didn’t need to say anything more. They just held each other, knowing that no matter what the future held, they had already overcome the impossible. Together.

VIKTOR

You were supposed to meet Viktor for dinner.

You remembered that much—walking through the upper levels of the Academy, the hallways washed in the golden glow of Hextech lanterns. The air buzzed faintly with ambient energy, tingling at your fingertips like it always did when magic and invention mingled in Piltover’s heart. It was late. The kind of late where only scientists, students with deadlines, and lovers waiting on one another remained.

Viktor would still be in the lab, no doubt—shoulders hunched over blueprints, spectacles perched precariously on the bridge of his nose, murmuring notes to himself in a blend of his native tongue and scientific shorthand. He often forgot to eat unless you reminded him, and tonight was one of those nights. You were bringing him dinner, still warm from the canteen downstairs, carefully wrapped so he wouldn’t notice you’d stolen one of his coats to carry it in.

But you never made it.

You’d taken the familiar shortcut—a winding staircase near the upper observatory, rarely used this late. You’d walked it a hundred times. Maybe more.

You didn’t see the threadbare strip of carpet near the landing. Didn't feel the way your balance shifted until it was too late. Your foot caught. Your hands flailed for the railing. You missed.

The staircase was unforgiving—metal edges and marble steps, cold and hard against your ribs, your shoulder, your head. You hit the bottom with a sickening thud. Pain exploded through your skull—and then, nothing. Just a void. A cold, empty nothingness.

=

The world didn’t return all at once. It seeped in around the edges like light through a cracked door.

You became aware of sensations first: the sterile scent of antiseptic. The stiff weight of bandages wrapped around your head. The dull ache of bruised ribs, the pull of healing skin. And the sound—steady, mechanical, rhythmic.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Your lashes fluttered. The light overhead was soft but still too bright. You blinked slowly, vision swimming, and let out a hoarse, dry breath.

Then, a voice.

“Y/N...?”

It was quiet, but it carried something fragile—like it had been breaking beneath the surface for hours. Days. Maybe longer.

You turned your head, your movements sluggish, the muscles in your neck tight and sore. And there someone was.

He sat curled forward in a hospital chair, as if he hadn’t moved in hours. His cane leaned beside him, and his fingers—so long, so deft when working with gears and wires—were curled tight around its handle. He looked pale. His eyes—those sharp, honey-gold eyes—were rimmed red, shadowed by sleepless nights.

You blinked, heart lurching strangely in your chest.

You knew him.

Didn’t you?

But no name came. No memories. Just that face, and something buried deep in your chest screaming that it mattered.

“…Do I… know you?” you asked, your voice like gravel. He flinched—just barely—but you saw it.

“I’m Viktor,” he said softly. “We... know each other very well.”

=

Viktor came every day.

He never stayed too long, never hovered. Always with quiet dignity, like he didn’t want to overwhelm you. But he was always there.

He brought tea in a thermos each morning—your favourite blend, though you didn’t remember why it was your favourite. The first time you sipped it, something warm bloomed behind your ribs, aching and bittersweet. He noticed the flicker in your expression and smiled, just a little.

“You always said it made your thoughts feel lighter,” he murmured, watching the steam curl between you. “Like the world wasn’t quite so heavy.”

He read to you in the afternoons. Not novels or poetry—technical schematics, lab notes, correspondence from Heimerdinger. Things you once called boring, except you found yourself understanding every word. Your fingers twitched when he paused at an equation, like you wanted to correct it or ask a question. Sometimes, you did.

“You remember,” he said once, stunned, after you pointed out an energy inefficiency in a prototype sketch.

You shook your head. “I don’t… remember remembering. It just… felt right.”

Later, he brought photographs.

You, standing beside him at Progress Day—smiling, windblown, clutching a paper bag full of trinkets. You again, curled up in a chair beside his lab bench, fast asleep with a blanket tucked around your shoulders. A blurry picture of you laughing with your hands covered in grease, his cane leaned awkwardly against your leg.

Some pictures made your chest ache. Others made your stomach flutter.

Still—no memories.

Just fragments. Impressions. Longing.

One night, the rain tapped the hospital window like fingers drumming a quiet rhythm. You turned toward him, heart heavy.

“…Were we in love?” He went still. The question hung in the air. Then, slowly—he nodded.

“Very much so.”

He didn’t try to touch you. Didn’t pressure. But his voice cracked, and you saw how tightly his hand gripped the cane again, like if he didn’t, he’d fall apart.

“I do not expect you to remember all at once,” he said. “But if you will let me… I can remind you. One memory at a time.”

=

The day they let you leave the hospital, Viktor was waiting with your coat.

He offered you his arm, and you took it without thinking. His cane tapped softly beside your steps, guiding both of you.

Midway down the front steps, you stopped. You stared at your feet. Then at his.

“…I used to help you, didn’t I?” His breath hitched.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “You did.”

Something deep inside you knew that was true. Muscle memory. Soul memory.

Back at the apartment—your apartment, though it felt like a stranger’s home—you wandered the rooms like a ghost. The walls were lined with books and sketches, strange diagrams tacked up in clusters. One corner of the living room held a half-assembled Hextech prototype under a glass dome. Dried flowers in an old glass bottle sat on the windowsill, their colour faded but preserved with care.

And on the table—your notebook.

You recognized your handwriting instantly. The cover was smudged from use. Inside were pages and pages of detailed notes on Viktor’s inventions. Tiny annotations. Little jokes. Doodles in the margins—sometimes gears, sometimes hearts.

You turned a page, and something clicked. You remembered. Your voice was soft, awed. “This was mine…”

Viktor looked up from where he was adjusting a calibration crystal. He froze.

“Yes.”

You stepped closer, holding the notebook like it was a precious thing. “I remember… I used to tease you about your messy handwriting.”

A beat passed. He laughed—broken, soft. “You did. Constantly.”

“And you’d roll your eyes.”

“I still do.”

“And you never fixed it.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you—and you saw it. The raw hope in his face. The love that had never left.

More pieces started to return. You remembered the sound of his voice in the early morning. The way he mumbled in his sleep when he was overworked. The first time you kissed him—tentative and sweet, his fingers trembling when he touched your cheek. The night he almost collapsed in the lab and you’d caught him, held him upright, whispered that he didn’t have to carry it all alone.

Later that evening, you sat beside him on the couch. His hand brushed yours. You didn’t pull away. You rested your head against his shoulder.

“I think I’m falling in love with you again,” you said softly.

Viktor turned, breath shaky, eyes shining.

He touched your face like you might break, kissed your forehead, your cheek. Then, finally, your lips—warm, familiar, trembling with emotion.

“I never stopped.”

JAYVIK

The shimmer of hextech energy pulsed like a heartbeat in the center of the lab, glowing faintly blue as it coiled and flickered within the containment chamber. A thin layer of steam clung to the walls, the air thick with the scent of ozone and copper.

Viktor stood by the monitor, expression drawn tight in concentration, his golden eyes scanning the rapidly shifting numbers as he tapped out calculations with one hand and gripped his cane with the other. He was quiet, meticulous, almost tense in a way that signaled to you this experiment was delicate. Important.

Jayce, in contrast, paced like a caged lion—twirling his wrench restlessly, muttering hypotheses under his breath. His frustration with the stabilizer coil had already earned a scorch mark on the bench and three snapped calibration rods. You had seen the warning signs, but you also knew better than to interrupt him when he was in full motion.

You stood between them, the calm in the storm, grounded and steady. Always the bridge when tension sparked—when Viktor’s precise logic clashed with Jayce’s bold instincts. You had a way of bringing them back into balance, of reminding them both that this wasn’t a race—it was the three of you, together, building something that could change the world.

Today was different.

The hum from the hex core deepened, and Viktor frowned, tapping into the stabilizer array again. “Jayce,” he said, voice edged with concern, “the field isn't aligning properly.”

“I know,” Jayce muttered, wrenching the coil into place. “Just a second more—”

You stepped forward. The tuning crystal was misaligned by a hair, tilted just enough to risk a harmonic backlash. You reached out, fingertips brushing the core’s edge.

The moment your skin made contact, everything changed.

The core flared—blinding, searing white light exploding outward with a deafening crack like lightning loosed from a cage.

“Y/N—!”

Viktor's cane clattered as he surged forward, stumbling slightly, arms reaching to shield you. Jayce’s voice cracked with panic, echoing under the thunderous shatter of glass and warping metal. A wave of heat burst across the room, slamming into you with the force of a hammer.

You felt weightless.

Then nothing at all.

=

You woke slowly, as if rising from deep water.

White light stabbed at your eyes. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the air. A gentle beep echoed beside you, in rhythm with the dull thud of your heart. Every muscle in your body felt heavy, sore, uncooperative. Something cool and metallic rested against your palm—Viktor’s cane, leaned beside the bed as if he hadn’t wanted it out of reach.

He was there.

Slouched in a nearby chair, dark circles carved beneath his eyes like bruises from sleepless nights. His posture was tense, one hand wrapped tightly around the head of his cane, the other twitching slightly against the chair’s armrest. Jayce stood on your other side, his normally polished armor jacket wrinkled and stained, his hair a disheveled mess. He was rubbing the back of his neck like he’d been doing it for hours.

“Miláček…” Viktor’s voice cracked around your name, raw and hushed. “You’re awake.” (Darling)

Your lips parted, dry and cracked. You tried to sit up, but the effort sent pain spiking through your spine. The world wavered, unfamiliar and too bright. You looked between them—one man with tired gold eyes, the other with a heartache behind his hopeful gaze.

You knew your name. You knew Piltover. The skyline out the window was familiar in a way that anchored you, but they—these men watching you like you held their world in your hands—were strangers.

“…Who are you?”

Viktor flinched like he’d been shot.

Jayce froze, mouth half-open, words dying on his tongue.

“You… you don’t remember us?” Jayce finally asked, voice breaking.

You shook your head, throat closing. “I’m sorry. I don’t…”

=

They didn’t leave you alone. Not once.

Viktor returned each day with a careful rhythm, bringing pieces of the past in the form of old notebooks and blueprints. He read to you from the margin notes—jokes you’d scrawled in the corners, affectionate jabs at his perfectionism. He even showed you the old prototype you once designed together—your initials etched into the brass side panel with a shaky heart drawn underneath.

Sometimes, he’d lapse into silences mid-sentence, staring down at the pages, hands trembling ever so slightly as though saying the words aloud hurt more than he’d expected.

Jayce brought warmth wherever he went. He cooked for you—your favorite dishes, though you didn’t remember they were yours. He sat by your side while you tried each one, hopeful and nervous. He brought trinkets from your shared apartment: a soft blanket you always hogged, a mug with a chipped handle that none of you could bear to throw away.

He showed you the photo: the three of you together, arms tangled, a mess of grease stains and smiling faces under the stars. Viktor, slightly awkward in the center, his lips barely curved. Jayce, holding the camera at arm’s length with one eye squinted shut. And you—pressed between them, your cheeks rosy, eyes full of laughter.

The ring was the hardest. Jayce hadn’t meant for you to see it, but you caught him holding the box one night in the living room, thumb brushing over the band inside like it was fragile. He looked up at you, eyes wide, guilty.

“I was going to ask you,” he murmured. “Both of us… we were going to ask.”

You didn’t remember. You couldn’t. And it felt like drowning.

Flashes came at night—Jayce laughing as he lifted you onto a table. Viktor’s hands in your hair, combing gently as you fell asleep at your desk. The soft press of lips against your shoulder. Heat. Comfort. Love.

But they slipped through your fingers like smoke.

You broke down one night, curled between them on the couch, tears soaking into the fabric as you sobbed into your knees. “I want to remember you. I do.”

They didn’t push. They just held you—Viktor stroking your back, Jayce cradling your hand—and let you fall apart in the space where your memories used to be.

=

It was nearly midnight when you wandered back into the lab.

The place still smelled like it did that day—metal, ozone, a hint of scorched leather. The core was sealed now, humming softly under a containment dome. The lighting was dim, the room quiet. Still.

You traced your fingers along the old bench, the groove where Viktor always rested his cane, the spot where Jayce had once slammed his hand in frustration. You paused when your fingers landed on a small journal, tucked neatly beside a stack of blueprints.

You opened it.

Your handwriting. Quick, sprawling notes and equations, followed by sketches of mechanical limbs and power converters. One page caught your eye—a tiny heart scrawled in the corner, with Viktor’s sharp, even lettering beneath it:

“You always see the pieces I miss. I don’t know how to be brilliant without you.”

Your breath caught. You flipped another page. Jayce’s messy scrawl, blue ink bleeding slightly through the paper:

“Remind me to kiss you when this is over. Or now. Preferably now.”

It struck like lightning.

Memory unfurled in your chest—Viktor adjusting your goggles, his fingers gentle as they brushed your temple. Jayce grinning down at you as he lifted you onto his shoulders to grab a tool from the top shelf. The warmth of their bodies wrapped around you, tangled in bedsheets, laughter and love echoing between you.

The pain of forgetting cracked wide open—and in its place, the truth returned.

You dropped to your knees, clutching the journal to your chest, sobbing. The grief of lost time, the ache of almost forgetting them—it crashed over you like a wave.

You didn’t hear them come in until you felt Viktor’s hand on your shoulder, trembling. Jayce knelt beside you, eyes wide, breath caught in his chest.

“I remember,” you whispered. “I remember everything.”

They didn’t speak. They didn’t have to.

They wrapped you in their arms, all three of you holding each other tightly in the center of the lab where it had all started. Viktor’s cane clattered to the floor. Jayce pressed his forehead to yours, breath shaking.

The world, shattered once, felt whole again.

VANDER

Zaun wasn’t safe tonight.

It never really was, but there was something different in the air — thick and charged, like lightning just waiting for an excuse to strike. The streets were quieter than usual. The usual hum of voices and the grind of pipes had taken on an edge. Fear travelled quickly down here. You were only out because someone had to be.

A local kid — scrappy, no older than ten — hadn’t come back after running errands for the Last Drop. Powder had been the first to notice, pacing nervously, blue-streaked hair a mess, eyes wide with panic.

“He said he was just going to the workshop,” she murmured, clutching your arm. “He should’ve been back already.”

You’d kissed the top of her head, reassuring her softly. “I’ll find him, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. You knew the shortcuts, knew how to walk like you belonged. Like you weren’t afraid.

But nothing prepared you for what you saw when you rounded the corner near a rusted maintenance shaft — the boy, backed against a wall, cornered by two Enforcers in polished boots and green-glinting armour. One of them had already drawn his baton, smacking it against a palm like he was just waiting for an excuse.

You stepped in without thinking.

“Hey!” you barked, raising your hands. “Easy. He’s just a kid.” The taller one looked at you like you’d spat in his drink.

“Step back, Zaunite. This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does if you’re about to beat a child,” you snapped, voice level. “He didn’t do anything. Just let him go.”

Your tone must have been too sharp. Too bold. You forgot they hated it when you looked them in the eyes. When you talked like you mattered.

That’s all it took.

One shoved the kid aside — the boy ran — and the other Enforcer turned his fury on you.

The baton hit your ribs first. Then your stomach. You tried to cover your head. A fist followed. A boot.

You remember the cold sting of metal under your cheek, blood flooding your mouth. You remember the burn in your lungs as you gasped for air that wouldn’t come. Somewhere in your fading mind, you thought of Vander — of his voice, his strength, the way he always said, "Let me worry about the fight."

And then... nothing.

=

There was warmth.

It wrapped around you like a blanket, heavy and soft, like you were being held by something alive. But then came the pain — a sharp, aching thunder that pulsed through every inch of your body. Your ribs, your skull, your face — everything felt too loud, too bright.

You forced your eyes open.

The room was dim, lit by the soft flicker of a low-burning lantern. The ceiling was metal and patched, familiar in a way that scraped at the back of your mind. Something moved beside you.

A hand brushed across your forehead — warm, rough, careful.

“Easy now,” a deep voice said. It rumbled like old stone. Steady. Strong. Familiar.

Your eyes drifted to the figure sitting at your side. A large man with a greying beard and broad shoulders leaned in. Worry etched into the lines of his face. His other hand clenched at the edge of the mattress, knuckles white.

“Who…?” Your voice came out hoarse, barely more than air. The man froze.

“You don’t…” His voice cracked, just slightly. “It's me, love. Vander?. You know me. Or... you did.”

You blinked slowly. The name didn’t register. But something in his eyes made your heart twist.

He looked at you like he’d lost you twice.

=

The days bled together in haze and silence.

You tried to piece things together — little things. The mirror showed a face that should’ve been yours, but you stared at her like she was a stranger. Your name sounded foreign when someone said it. The clothes felt wrong. The scent of metal, of oil, of warm bread from a kitchen nearby — they brushed against something buried, but never deep enough to grab hold.

The children came in shifts. Vi was always first, leaning against the wall like she had somewhere better to be. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Trying to play it cool.

But her eyes never left you.

“You used to show me how to throw a punch,” she said, voice low but steady. “Said if I was gonna pick fights, I better learn to end 'em.” She let out a small, dry laugh. “You’d hum this weird little tune when you wrapped my hands. Drove me nuts.” She hesitated — just for a second. “I kinda miss it.

Powder was different. She clung to you like you’d slip away again.

“This one’s you,” she said, holding up a drawing with messy colours and uneven lines. Stick figures with big eyes and holding hands. “And that’s Vander. You always stood next to him. Always.”

Claggor brought soup. Too salty, but warm. “You taught me how to make this,” he grinned, shy and hopeful.

Mylo tried jokes. Most fell flat, but he kept trying. “You laughed at my dumb jokes. That’s how I know you’re still in there.”

Vander never missed a night.

He sat by your bedside like a silent sentinel, always with a hand near yours, but never touching unless you reached first. He didn’t talk much. Not about what happened. Just stories from the bar. Little things.

One night, he spoke without looking at you.

“I should’ve gone with you. I knew things were tense up top. I should’ve known they’d—” He stopped himself. His jaw tightened. “I should’ve protected you.”

You didn’t know what to say. But your hand inched closer to his. There was something in his voice. Something unspoken. Like love, trapped behind glass.

=

The memories came in flickers — not enough to explain, but enough to haunt.

A scent would stop you mid-breath. The creak of floorboards would make you turn your head like something was calling. The sound of laughter from the bar below made your chest ache.

One night, you woke up sweating, heart racing. You remembered a kiss. Heat. Rough hands tangled in your hair. A whisper against your neck: “Don’t care if they see.”

The image blurred before you could hold it. But then, it all snapped into focus. Vander was helping you sit up, one arm around your back. Your hand brushed his. Something jolted. Electric. Real.

You gasped, fingers tightening around his.

“I remember,” you whispered. “You—Vander. You kissed me. Behind the bar. You said no one was watching. But they were.”

He froze. Eyes wide. Disbelief tangled with tears.

“Y/N…”

You surged forward and pressed your forehead to his, your breath hitching. “You made me laugh when I cried. You let Powder sleep in our bed when she had nightmares. You held me every night. You’re mine.”

Vander pulled you into his arms like he was afraid you’d vanish again. His chest shook against yours. The door burst open — Vi first, of course.

“Powder broke the—oh.” All four kids stopped dead.

“Y/N?” Powder asked, tiny voice cracking.

You smiled. “Hey, baby blue.” She flung herself into your arms. And Vander held on like he’d never let go again.

SILCO

The battle had been fierce—far more intense than anything Y/N had experienced before. The tension between Piltover and Zaun had been escalating for months, and it had finally boiled over into violence. Y/N stood alongside Silco, his most trusted ally, in the heart of the chaos. The clash between the two factions was unpredictable and violent, and in the midst of it all, she fought alongside Sevika, Skye, and a handful of their men.

The night was thick with the sounds of weapons clashing, the roar of gunfire, and the shrieks of those caught in the conflict. But despite the sheer chaos, Y/N kept her focus. She had a reputation for being deadly in a fight—unpredictable, quick, and precise. She moved fluidly, taking down enemies left and right, never letting the adrenaline slow her down.

Then it happened.

A sharp push from an enemy sent her stumbling back toward the edge of a rooftop. The world seemed to shift in that moment—her foot slipped, and the next thing she knew, there was nothing beneath her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she fell, the air rushing past her face. A split second of terror before the harsh, unforgiving impact of the ground.

Her vision blurred as pain seared through her body, and everything went black.

=

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open slowly, a wave of dizziness hitting her as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The sterile scent of a medical room mixed with the sharp, metallic tang of blood, instantly filling her nose. The headache was unbearable, throbbing in every inch of her skull. Every movement was slow, deliberate—there was an ache in every part of her body, like someone had taken a hammer to her chest and spine.

She tried to sit up but quickly found herself too weak, her muscles refusing to cooperate. Panic began to seep in as she took in the unfamiliar room—a dull, dimly lit space with cold, clinical walls. The sharp buzz of machines filled the air, each beep and whir reminding her of the vulnerability she now felt. Her pulse began to race.

What had happened? Where was she? Why couldn’t she remember?

Before she could panic further, the door creaked open. Silco stepped inside.

His figure filled the doorway, tall and commanding, his usual intimidating presence somehow softened by the way his eyes locked onto hers. There was a moment of silence, where all that could be heard was the distant hum of machinery and the pounding of her own heartbeat.

“Y/N,” he said softly, the name rolling off his tongue as though it were a prayer. "You’re awake."

His voice was the only thing that seemed real, the only thing she could grasp onto, but even it felt distant. She blinked, trying to focus on his features, but they seemed… blurred. Something was off.

“Who… Who are you?” she asked, her voice weak, unsure. She couldn’t place the emotion behind it. It wasn’t fear, but there was definitely confusion. "What happened to me?"

Silco’s eyes tightened, his expression hardening for a brief moment before his features softened, and he took a cautious step closer to her bedside. He ran a hand over his face, looking as if the words didn’t come easily.

“It’s me, Silco,” he said, his voice quieter this time, almost hesitant. “I’m here to help you.”

Her brow furrowed as she tried to reach for the name—Silco—but it was like trying to catch smoke in her hands. It slipped away the instant she tried to hold on to it.

“I… I don’t remember,” she whispered, her heart sinking.

A flicker of something—pain, maybe—flashed across Silco’s face, but it was gone before she could be sure. He sat beside her, his presence a comforting weight, but his eyes were clouded with something he couldn’t quite hide.

“You don’t have to remember right now,” he said gently. “Just take your time. You will.”

=

The following days blurred into one another. Y/N’s world was a jumbled mess of strange faces, disjointed memories, and constant confusion. Silco, ever vigilant, stayed by her side, his eyes never leaving her when he wasn’t tending to his other responsibilities. Every day, he would tell her stories of their past, recounting moments they’d shared, times they’d fought together, times they’d laughed in the face of danger.

One evening, as the dim light of dusk filtered through the windows, Silco leaned closer to her, his voice laced with a gentle tenderness.

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” he asked softly.

Y/N’s gaze flickered to his face, studying him as if he were a stranger, and yet... she couldn’t shake the feeling that she should know him. The memory he spoke of felt like it belonged to someone else—someone she could almost touch, but not quite.

“No…” Her voice was small. “I don’t.”

He sighed, but his hand reached out to hold hers, warm and steady. “It was under the stars, on a rooftop, just like this. The city was quiet for once. We were on the edge of something big, but for a moment, it was just us.”

She wanted to feel something, wanted so desperately to know what he was talking about, to feel the connection he spoke of, but it was like grasping at shadows.

“It’s okay,” Silco said, squeezing her hand gently. “You’ll remember when you’re ready. In time, everything will fall into place.”

But for now, it felt like a weight she couldn’t shake—a hollowness that lingered just beyond her reach.

=

Weeks passed, and Y/N’s search for clarity continued. The fog in her mind began to lift in pieces, fragments of images that made no sense alone but, when combined, formed something vaguely familiar. There were moments where Silco’s voice would break through the noise, and a sense of warmth would wash over her—comforting, like the space between them had always been filled with something more than just words.

One day, Silco took her out of the medical room. They stood on a quiet dock by the water, far from the chaos of the city. The soft rhythm of the water lapping against the stone was the only sound, and the air felt different—calmer.

“This is where we used to come,” Silco’s voice broke the silence, low and filled with something that bordered on reverence. “I came here often to think. And you… You always found me.”

Y/N turned to face him, her gaze searching his face. His sharp features were still a puzzle to her, yet there was something about him—something she couldn’t quite place, but felt in her bones.

“Why here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Silco’s eyes softened. “Because it’s always been where I felt most at peace. And when I was with you, I felt… whole.”

Y/N felt a stirring in her chest, a sudden pull of recognition. It wasn’t a memory, not exactly, but it was something familiar—a flicker of warmth she had longed for without knowing.

He reached for her, brushing a lock of hair from her face, his touch sending a jolt through her. “You’re safe with me, Y/N. Always have been.”

And then, like a dam breaking, the memories came rushing back—a tidal wave of moments that had been locked away. The laughter. The shared glances. The way his voice would drop when he said her name. Their first kiss. The quiet nights they had spent together. It all flooded back, as though her heart had always known it, even when her mind couldn’t.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she stepped closer, lifting her hand to cup his face. “I remember,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Silco’s expression softened, his eyes shining with something close to relief, and he pulled her into an embrace, his lips finding hers with a tenderness that took her breath away. It wasn’t just a kiss of reunion—it was a kiss that held everything they had been through, everything they had fought for, and everything they would be together.

As the kiss deepened, Y/N realized that no matter the darkness, no matter the accident, their bond had never truly broken. It had only been waiting for the right moment to return, to remind her of who they were.

And now, she was home.

JINX

There was always chaos with Jinx. Always noise, always unpredictability, and always that reckless spark that would set the world on fire. But you loved it. You loved her. Jinx was your best friend, your sister in all the ways that mattered, and no matter what, you stood by her side through thick and thin.

That day, though? That day was different. The familiar sound of her giggle echoed through the underground warehouse as she fiddled with her latest explosives. You were trying to get her to stop, trying to be the voice of reason, but you knew better than to try to get through to her when she was in one of her moods.

"You’re such a buzzkill, Y/N!" Jinx had called over her shoulder, her eyes wide with that gleam that always made your heart skip a beat. "This is gonna be so much fun!"

Before you could protest again, it happened. A spark. A flash. A boom that rattled your bones and sent the world into a dizzying blur of fire and smoke.

=

You woke up to pain. Your head throbbed as if it had been split in two, and your vision swam in and out of focus. The smell of burnt metal and smoke stung your nostrils.

“Y/N?!”

That voice. You recognized it instantly—Jinx. But something in her tone was off, frantic, desperate, like she’d been waiting for this moment for hours. Or maybe longer.

You blinked, trying to steady yourself, and found her crouched by your side, her face pale and her usual manic energy replaced by an uncharacteristic stillness. Her bright blue hair was singed, her clothes torn, but there was a look in her eyes you hadn’t seen before: fear.

"Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay," Jinx’s voice trembled as she reached for your hand. "Please, don’t leave me, okay? Not again…"

You wanted to say something, reassure her, but nothing came out. Your mind was blank. Who was she? Who were you?

"Y/N?" Jinx’s voice broke again, more quietly this time. "Do you remember me?"

You tried. You tried so hard to remember her, but the memory didn’t come. There was a void where something important should’ve been. A gap. A missing piece.

"I'm… I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice weak. "I... I don’t know who you are."

=

Jinx refused to leave your side after that. She was relentless, clinging to you like a lifeline. Every day, she tried to jog your memory, bombarding you with stories, flashbacks, anything to spark something in you.

"Remember when we blew up that stupid chem-barrel in the scrapyard?" Jinx asked, her hands gesturing wildly as she sat across from you. "And you were all like, 'Jinx, stop! You’re gonna blow us up!’ and then boom! You were totally laughing, even though I almost got us killed—"

You stared at her, her eyes wide and hopeful, but all you could feel was that empty space inside you. The blankness gnawed at you.

"I… I don’t remember," you admitted, swallowing thickly. "I’m sorry. But why would I laugh at something blowing up?."

Jinx’s smile faltered. Her usually wild energy dimmed, but she shook her head furiously.

"No, no, no, you have to remember," she insisted, her hands grabbing your shoulders. "We’ve done so much together. I’m your best friend! We’re—" She paused, and her eyes glazed over, as if she were searching for the right words, but they didn’t come. "We’re family, Y/N."

But her words were like echoes in your mind, distant and unreachable. You wanted to believe her. You wanted to feel that connection, but the space between you and the past was too wide, too deep.

=

Then, one day, Jinx came to you with a thick, colourful scrapbook in her hands. She looked a little like she was presenting some kind of treasure, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and hope.

"I made this," she said, voice trembling with something you couldn’t quite place. "It’s… it’s for you, Y/N. To help you remember us. Our story."

You blinked at the scrapbook, unsure of what it was. The cover was covered in stickers, doodles, and chaotic drawings—just like her. There were little sketches of explosions, random graffiti scribbles, and you… well, you assumed it was you. You couldn’t remember for sure.

"Go ahead," Jinx urged, her hands shaking as she passed it to you. "Just… look. Please."

You flipped through the pages carefully. The first page had a picture of you and her, taken from a moment you couldn’t place, but her wide, mischievous grin was unmistakable. You looked happy, too.

Every page after that was a flood of memories—ones you didn’t have, but Jinx had preserved. There were photos, drawings, ticket stubs from events you didn’t remember attending, notes scribbled in the margins, and little symbols that meant nothing to you but everything to her.

On one page, there was a drawing of the two of you holding hands with fireworks exploding in the background. On another, there was a doodle of you carrying Jinx on your back, both of you laughing.

"Remember this?" Jinx asked, her voice soft, almost fragile. "We did this when we were twelve. You promised we’d never leave each other. And we didn’t, Y/N."

The scrapbook was a window into the life you’d forgotten. It felt like a heartbeat you could almost touch, but it was still so far out of reach.

And then, there was a page with a single word: Family.

You stared at it for a long moment. It felt important. You felt important.

"Jinx… this… this is us," you whispered, your fingers tracing over the word. "I was here. I was with you."

Her eyes brightened, and she grabbed your hands in hers, practically vibrating with excitement. "Yes! Yes, Y/N, we’re together! You’re gonna remember. I know it!"

And then it came, like a spark in the dark. A memory, just a flash, but enough to make your heart race. A memory of you and Jinx, standing side by side, staring up at a sky full of fireworks, your arms wrapped around each other.

"Jinx," you whispered, your voice shaking, "I… I remember. I remember us."

Jinx’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug. "You remember! You really remember!"

You held onto her just as tightly, your heart full as you realized, despite the chaos, despite everything, you and Jinx were always going to be inseparable. Your memories might have been fractured, but your bond? That was unbreakable.

[nostalgebraist]

Honestly I'm pretty tired of supporting nostalgebraist-autoresponder. Going to wind down the project some time before the end of this year.

Posting this mainly to get the idea out there, I guess.

This project has taken an immense amount of effort from me over the years, and still does, even when it's just in maintenance mode.

Today some mysterious system update (or something) made the model no longer fit on the GPU I normally use for it, despite all the same code and settings on my end.

This exact kind of thing happened once before this year, and I eventually figured it out, but I haven't figured this one out yet. This problem consumed several hours of what was meant to be a relaxing Sunday. Based on past experience, getting to the bottom of the issue would take many more hours.

My options in the short term are to

A. spend (even) more money per unit time, by renting a more powerful GPU to do the same damn thing I know the less powerful one can do (it was doing it this morning!), or

B. silently reduce the context window length by a large amount (and thus the "smartness" of the output, to some degree) to allow the model to fit on the old GPU.

Things like this happen all the time, behind the scenes.

I don't want to be doing this for another year, much less several years. I don't want to be doing it at all.

----

In 2019 and 2020, it was fun to make a GPT-2 autoresponder bot.

[EDIT: I've seen several people misread the previous line and infer that nostalgebraist-autoresponder is still using GPT-2. She isn't, and hasn't been for a long time. Her latest model is a finetuned LLaMA-13B.]

Hardly anyone else was doing anything like it. I wasn't the most qualified person in the world to do it, and I didn't do the best possible job, but who cares? I learned a lot, and the really competent tech bros of 2019 were off doing something else.

And it was fun to watch the bot "pretend to be me" while interacting (mostly) with my actual group of tumblr mutuals.

In 2023, everyone and their grandmother is making some kind of "gen AI" app. They are helped along by a dizzying array of tools, cranked out by hyper-competent tech bros with apparently infinite reserves of free time.

There are so many of these tools and demos. Every week it seems like there are a hundred more; it feels like every day I wake up and am expected to be familiar with a hundred more vaguely nostalgebraist-autoresponder-shaped things.

And every one of them is vastly better-engineered than my own hacky efforts. They build on each other, and reap the accelerating returns.

I've tended to do everything first, ahead of the curve, in my own way. This is what I like doing. Going out into unexplored wilderness, not really knowing what I'm doing, without any maps.

Later, hundreds of others with go to the same place. They'll make maps, and share them. They'll go there again and again, learning to make the expeditions systematically. They'll make an optimized industrial process of it. Meanwhile, I'll be locked in to my own cottage-industry mode of production.

Being the first to do something means you end up eventually being the worst.

----

I had a GPT chatbot in 2019, before GPT-3 existed. I don't think Huggingface Transformers existed, either. I used the primitive tools that were available at the time, and built on them in my own way. These days, it is almost trivial to do the things I did, much better, with standardized tools.

I had a denoising diffusion image generator in 2021, before DALLE-2 or Stable Diffusion or Huggingface Diffusers. I used the primitive tools that were available at the time, and built on them in my own way. These days, it is almost trivial to do the things I did, much better, with standardized tools.

Earlier this year, I was (probably) one the first people to finetune LLaMA. I manually strapped LoRA and 8-bit quantization onto the original codebase, figuring out everything the hard way. It was fun.

Just a few months later, and your grandmother is probably running LLaMA on her toaster as we speak. My homegrown methods look hopelessly antiquated. I think everyone's doing 4-bit quantization now?

(Are they? I can't keep track anymore -- the hyper-competent tech bros are too damn fast. A few months from now the thing will be probably be quantized to -1 bits, somehow. It'll be running in your phone's browser. And it'll be using RLHF, except no, it'll be using some successor to RLHF that everyone's hyping up at the time...)

"You have a GPT chatbot?" someone will ask me. "I assume you're using AutoLangGPTLayerPrompt?"

No, no, I'm not. I'm trying to debug obscure CUDA issues on a Sunday so my bot can carry on talking to a thousand strangers, every one of whom is asking it something like "PENIS PENIS PENIS."

Only I am capable of unplugging the blockage and giving the "PENIS PENIS PENIS" askers the responses they crave. ("Which is ... what, exactly?", one might justly wonder.) No one else would fully understand the nature of the bug. It is special to my own bizarre, antiquated, homegrown system.

I must have one of the longest-running GPT chatbots in existence, by now. Possibly the longest-running one?

I like doing new things. I like hacking through uncharted wilderness. The world of GPT chatbots has long since ceased to provide this kind of value to me.

I want to cede this ground to the LLaMA techbros and the prompt engineers. It is not my wilderness anymore.

I miss wilderness. Maybe I will find a new patch of it, in some new place, that no one cares about yet.

----

Even in 2023, there isn't really anything else out there quite like Frank. But there could be.

If you want to develop some sort of Frank-like thing, there has never been a better time than now. Everyone and their grandmother is doing it.

"But -- but how, exactly?"

Don't ask me. I don't know. This isn't my area anymore.

There has never been a better time to make a GPT chatbot -- for everyone except me, that is.

Ask the techbros, the prompt engineers, the grandmas running OpenChatGPT on their ironing boards. They are doing what I did, faster and easier and better, in their sleep. Ask them.

[kiddotarot]

Pac - What's hidden from you ?

Pile 1. Pile 2. Pile 3.

( pic and dividers are not mine , credit goes to owner ) .

Pile 1.

There is a new project or work which can be related to your creativity which is hidden from you. This is something that is coming your way but destiny's making you wait for it. It can be something related to an artistic compilation or hobbies which help you to enhance your creative side. It can be anything. And this thing brings you great success and recognition so sure if you are waiting for some kind of results it can be a positive side and you also get appreciation for your work from the people around you. This success will increase your self confidence and image In society and if you are seeking more recognition and connection this can be a good time that you get a chance and people reach out to you. It is also a great time when you feel confident in your skills and in yourself. But this will be a slow process not too fast and you may not know what to do after it and it can effect on your growth and it may take time to take a positive turn for now you don't have a proper blueprint of strategy and planning so you need to be a leader and work on you planning and path and there is a sign That for now you are also try to find a investors or a person who can guide you . So good luck .

Pile 2 .

So pile 2 you can or you get success or a great news about something in your life which can be important for you . But the thing is hidden from you that someone is try to hurt you , you can face difficulties in a relationship either it can be friendship or romantic. It can also trigger childhood issues and trauma and you can have a hard time regarding your emotional and mental health so please take care . you may also find either to cope up with your childhood issues and have a hard time to leave it and let go this relation or person and You can feel like you stuck again where you started so the advise for you to explore new things and look life from a new perspective cause this pain will going to teach you the same things till then try to keep your boundaries and don't let anyone hurt or use you you are strong and it someone hurting you , you need to show them their place.

Pile 3 .

Pile 3 the things that is hidden from you that there is not a easy time in front of you if you are going through a pain and problems and hoping that there will be a period of rest and Healing so no you need to work hard and go through A tough time more than you think it a long run. I know you really don't have someone who can guide you and show you emotional support because you are being tested here but the universe just holds on. It's a hard time but you will get over it. You may be fasing spritual awakening and guided by univers and learing more about your spritual side . God want you to know that there is no one with you but i will always there just talk to me . And you will heal and learn from this support will come to you in divine form just remember when there is no shoulder to cry there is floor to kneel snd pray . Just let go your greed and expectations on this world that it will give You long term security don't forget everything is temporary so trusting is just wasting your time on anything beside god and universe, magic is on its way.

@kiddotarot .

Paid reading.

Exclusive Paid reading

[vaadazen-codes]

How To Get Started Making Visual Novels

Wanna make a visual novel? Or maybe you've seen games like Our Life, Blooming Panic, Doki Doki Literature Club, etc. and wanna make something like that? Good news, here's a very basic beginners guide on how to get started in renpy and what you need to know going in! Before you start, I highly recommend looking at my last post about writing a script for renpy just to make it easier on you!

LONG POST AHEAD

Obviously, our first step is downloading it from their website

thankfully, its right on the home page of their site. Follow basica program installation steps and run the program. I highly recommend pinning it to your task bar to make it easier to access.

From there, you're met with the renpy app, it's a little daunting at first but let's talk about what all these buttons are for.

Projects

This part is simple, it just lists the current projects in the chosen directory. You probably won't have any in there of your own. You should still see Tutorial and The Question!

Both of those default projects are super helpful in their own ways, i highly recommend testing out the tutorial and playing around with it just to get comfortable with some of the basics.

Create New Project

The first step to actually making your game into a game!

You'll be met with a prompt letting you know that the project is being made in English and that you can change it. You can click Continue.

From here, you'll be asked to input a project name! Put in your games title, or even a placeholder title since this Information can be changed later! (this is also the title the folder will be in your file browser, be sure to name it something you won't overlook)

Now we get to choose our resolution!

If you have no idea what to choose, go for 1920x1080! This is the standard size for most computer monitors and laptops, but it will still display with moderately decent quality on 4k monitors too!

You can choose 3840x2160 as well. This is 2x the measurements of the default, with the same ration. These dimensions are considered 4k. Keep in mind, your image files will be bigger and can cause the game to have a larger size to download.

Now we get to choose our color scheme!

Renpy has some simple default options with the 'light mode' colors being the bottom two rows, and the 'dark mode' colors being the toop two rows.

You can pick anything here, but I like to choose something that matches my projects vibes/colors better. Mostly because depending on how in depth you go with the ui, it minimizes the amount of changes I need to make later.

Click continue and give it a minute. Note: If it says "not responding" wait a moment without clicking anything. It can sometimes freeze briefly during the process.

Now we should be back at our home screen, with our new project showing. Let's talk about allll that stuff on the right now.

Open Directory

This just opens that particular folder in your local file explorer!

game - is all the game files, so your folders for images, audio, saves, and your game files like your script, screens, and more.

base - this is the folder that the game folder is inside of. You can also find the errors and log txt files in here.

images - takes you to your main images folder. This is where you wanna put all of your NON gui images, like your sprites, backgrounds, and CGs. You can create folders inside of this and still call them in the script later. EX: a folder for backgrounds , a folder for sprites for character a, a seperate folder for spirtes for character b, etc.

audio - Takes you to the default audio folder. This is empty, but you can put all your music and sound effects here!

gui - brings up the folder containing all of the default renpy gui. It's a good place to start/ reference for sizes if you want to hand draw your UI pieces like your text box!

Edit File

Simple enough, this is just where you can open your code files in whatever text/code editor you have installed.

Script.rpy - where all of your story and characters live. This is the file you'll spend most of your time in at first

Options.rpy - Contains mostly simple information, like project name and version. There aren't a ton of things in here you need to look at. There is also some lines of code that help 'archive' certain files by file type so that they can't be seen by players digging in code however. Fun if you want to hide some images in there for later or if you just dont want someone seeing how messy your files are. We've all been there

Gui.rpy - where all of the easy customization happens. Here you can change font colors, hover colors, fonts, font sizes, and then the alignment and placement of all of your text! Like your dialogue and names, the height of text buttons, etc. It more or less sets the defaults for a lot of these unless you choose to change them later.

Screens.rpy - undeniably my favorite, this is where all of the UI is laid out for the different screens in your game, like the main menu, game menu, quick menu, choice menu, etc. You can add custom screens too if you want, but I always make my own seperate file for these.

Open Project - this just opens all of those files at once in the code editor. Super handy if you make extra files like I do for certain things.

Actions

last but not least, our actions.

Navigate Script - This feature is underrated in my honest opinion, it's super handy for help debugging! In renpy you can comment with # before a line. However, if you do #TODO and type something after it, it saves it as a note! You can view these TODO's here as well as easily navigate to when certain screens are called, where different labels are (super great if your game is long, and more. It saves some scrolling.

Check Script (Lint) - also super duper handy for debugging some basic things. It also tells you your word count! But its handy for letting you know about some errors that might throw up. I like using it to look for sprites I may or may not have mispelled, because they show up in there too.

Change/Update GUI - Nifty, though once you start customizing GUI on your own, it isn't as useful. You can reset the project at any point and regenerate the image files here. This updates all those defaults we talked about earlier.

Delete Persistent - this just helps you delete any persistent data between play throughs on your end. I like to use it when making a lot of changes while testing the game, so that I can reboot the game fresh.

Force Recompile - Full disclosure, as many games as I've made and as long as I've been using Renpy, i have never used this feature. I searched to see what it does and this is the general consesus: Normally renpy tries to be smart about compiling code (creating .rpyc files) and only compiles .rpy files with changes. This is to speed up the process since compiling takes time. Sometimes you can make changes that renpy don't pick up on and therefore won't recompile. In these cases you can run force recompile to force it. Another solution (if you know what file is affected) is to delete that specific. rpyc file.

The rest of your options on this right hand side are how you make executable builds for your game that people can download to extract and play later!

Sorry gang! that was a whole lot of text obviously the last button "Launch Project" launches an uncompiled version of the project for you to play and test as you go! Hang in tight because my next post is about how to utilize github for renpy, so you can collaborate easier!

[t4t4t]

The Liberal is always INNOCENT; he has nothing to do with anything; he never acts:

“God forbid! I didn’t send for the Police! I didn’t intend any VIOLENCE! I just didn’t want an Unobjective Person in My Department. If he was jailed or shot by the Police, THAT’S NOT MY CONCERN; I’M COMPLETELY INNOCENT! I DIDN’T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THAT, and in any case, that merely shows what kind of person HE really was.”

The Liberal’s project is to exclude the radical from society, but he does not take responsibility for the project; he realizes his project in stages, but he is only responsible for the “innocent” first stage. OTHERS DO THE REST. The Liberal merely initiates the process, and is not responsible for what the others do.

The Reactionary hits the radical directly; the Liberal does not do his own hitting. The Liberal merely PROVOKES the radical until he responds to the provocation, and when he responds, THE COPS GET THE RADICAL. The Liberal maintains his good conscience: HE didn’t act--the radical acted; HE didn’t repress the radical--the cops did. THE LIBERAL IS ALWAYS INNOCENT; his only desire is peace and quiet.

The Reactionary throws out a radical and then has him arrested for Loitering or Conspiracy or outside Agitation if the radical returns to fight; the Reactionary “eggs on” and harasses until the radical is provoked to hit back, and then has him arrested for Assault and Battery; the Reactionary tries to exclude the radical from any sources of income in order to have him locked up as a thief. To the Reactionary, the radical is ALREADY A CRIMINAL WHEN HE EXPRESSES HIS THOUGHTS.

The Liberal knows just as well as the Reactionary that “The cops’ll get ‘im”; HE COUNTS ON THE COPS TO PROTECT HIS PEACE AND QUIET; but, as Rafferty repeatedly observed, THE LIBERAL DOESN’T WANT TO SEE THE COPS WHO PROTECT HIM.

The Liberal can be compared to the Medieval Church. The Church excommunicated a heretic, but did not itself put the heretic to death. The Civil Authority, the Secular Authority, took charge of the heretic’s body. The Church was innocent; the Civil Authorities and the Executioner were the ones responsible for physical extermination. The excommunicators of the Church maintained clean consciences.

Thus also the Liberal: All he does is to excommunicate the radical, to exclude him “spiritually”; the Civil Authorities do the rest. At every single step he applies systematic terror and violence, and at every single step he manages to maintain his clean conscience.

The Liberal ALREADY KNOWS that when his “Leftist Colleague” is an unemployed radical he will do something for which it will be legitimate to throw him in jail, but the Liberal doesn’t want to be aware that HIS PEACE AND QUIET ARE MAINTAINED THROUGH TERRORISM AND VIOLENCE. In other words, the Liberal’s weapons are the same as the reactionary’s; the only difference between them is that the Liberal doesn’t look, and has a good conscience. He’s “tolerant,” he “reads radical literature,” he’s the “only one who talks to radicals,” he’s MORAL in every single way; he goes out of his way to “help radicals”; he’ll do everything for radicals which will help him keep his good conscience WHILE HE CONTINUES TO RELY ON TERROR AND VIOLENCE.

Liberal professors and students whose situations can only be maintained through terror and violence, through systematic psychological and physical murder, advertise “Make Love Not War.” Liberal students who have ALREADY CHOSEN to help maintain the dominant project when their time comes, are busy “accumulating” large “stocks” of good conscience while they can, while their “new styles of life” do not yet conflict with their future “responsibilities.”

Liberals are not “moderate.” That’s their own self-image. They’re extremists, but unlike reactionaries, THEY’RE EXTREMISTS WITH GOOD CONSCIENCES. Their instruments are not “ideas”; their instruments are TERROR and VIOLENCE. But unlike lynchers, THE LIBERALS TURN THEIR EYES AWAY to maintain their innocence.

People are EXCLUDED; thousands of people are OUTSIDERS; yet the Liberals who forced them out are TOTALLY GUILTLESS, and have the illusion that they are the ones who are “sympathetic” to the Radical Students, the Emotionally What-Have-You Students, the Hippie Students. The Liberal who is the first to move WHENEVER SOMEONE CROSSES ONE OF HIS LINES at the same time “contributes generously” to “Left-wing organizations” and “is against the war in Vietnam.” He is a supporter of all GOOD THINGS; he is a GOOD PERSON; he’s the BEST PERSON IN THE WORLD. He is able to accept physical and psychological TERROR and VIOLENCE WITH A GOOD CONSCIENCE AND CHRISTIAN MORALS.

Kalamazoo, February 1969

I Accuse This Liberal University of Terror and Violence, Fredy Perlman

[gamorahww]

𝐅𝐈𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 ━ 𝑑𝑎𝑦 2. 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑟 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔

Today I'm holding space for the idea that in the context of the movie, dancing is a coping mechanism for Fiyero. While caring is a cure and a solution and an answer. I mean it is nothing new, but it needs to be said.

There will be a separate post on Dancing Through Life later today, but for now, we're starting from later. At history class, Fiyero voluntarily steps up to help the lion cub, and they make it all the way to the forest. Shortly after they are safe, and start talking, Elphaba says, "I know my life would be much easier if I didn't care, but—" and Fiyero cuts her off at exactly this point in her sentence. And I think that moment is crucial. Up until now, he’s never interrupted her before—but now he does and not because he’s frustrated with how much she talks, but because of what she’s saying. He doesn’t want to hear her talk about caring. That’s a pain point for him.

Because he knows it’s easier not to care. That’s the story he tells himself.

The lyrics in Dancing Through Life go: "Why think too hard when it's so soothing?" Soothing what? You don’t need to soothe something that doesn’t hurt. Soothing is only necessary when there’s an ache. To me this means he has cared before, and he has been hurt by caring before, and now he's coping with that by dancing through life. He is soothing his pain from secretly caring just too much, by dancing. Not because he doesn't care anymore about anything, but because he can't stop doing it, so he has to keep dancing. Dancing is loud, and visible. If he dances, people don't ask questions about his personality about what he thinks or how he feels. Maybe they haven't been doing it anyway, so he distracts them by doing his little dance, and as soon as they get too close, he pushes them away. But what he believes to be true for now is that caring = painful and dancing = a way to cope with that pain

But Elphaba just saw him care—deeply. She knows he’s capable of it. And she knows how unbearably sad it must be to choose to pretend otherwise. At the same time, she also understands how painful caring can be, she just highlighted is. In that moment, they find common ground.

But Fiyero’s façade—his carefree persona—is what he assumes people value in him most. So the second he realizes Elphaba doesn’t see him that way, he panics. He thinks that if she can see through him, it means she doesn’t want him there. No one has ever appreciated him for anything beyond the image he projects. So if that mask is gone… what’s left? Why would she still want him around, if he's not fun and happy and carefree? So he starts to leave.

And then she proves him wrong.

Not only does she say "she does (want his help)," but she physically holds onto him, keeping him there. The shock on his face (second gif from the bottom) says everything—he never expected someone to want him without the act. And later, when she touches his face so gently, you can see him struggling to process it. This is the most vulnerable he’s ever been, and it terrifies him. Not only that, but Elphaba sees a scar on his face, and sees that he has been hurt, without him noticing it. She reaches out and touches him gently, not really wanting anything, and he just can't bear it.

Her caring for him is not painful, it's soothing.

His Freudian slip a few beats later—"I better get to safety."—isn’t just about physical danger. This doesn’t feel safe. Being seen, being wanted for real, is the opposite of what he’s used to. Caring and being cared for are equally scary, but only the latter seems like a completely new experience for him. However, after feeling it, he finds something so real that he just yearns for it from now on. Yearns to be seen and touched and to be needed for something he did instinctively, without a thought, something he did because it felt right.

That’s why the later scene with Glinda is so important. When she holds his hand, the shot mirrors the moment with Elphaba—but with one key difference. Glinda is pulling him away, back into the world of pretense. But he can’t go back, not after this, and you can see him looking back at where he came from, back to the forest, back to Elphaba, back to being seen. For once, caring was not painful, and someone cared for him as well.