#the art of thievery

[tippenfunkaport]

That viral post that's going around about how people who write "book quality" mlm fic are too "normal" to publish and have real jobs so only "weird" people publish their "shitty" fanfic is so completely out of touch with reality and I am giving a massive side eye to everyone reblogging it.

Not only is it completely, easily verifiably untrue (you cannot enter any professional writing space without tripping over a dozen grizzled scifi writers who got their start by filing off the serial numbers and publishing their Star Trek fanfic even going back decades ago??? it's a whole thing?? plus how can you look at the mlm category on Amazon right now and say with a straight face that people aren't publishing shitty Spirk and Stucky fanfic??? Oh, honey...) it's also the perfect example of this kind of sneering elitism that true artists would never sully themselves by seeking profit, they do it only for the purity of the thing that always somehow leads back to, "no one should be paid to make art, actually."

The only reason you're seeing more published fanfic right now has nothing to do with the idealistic purity of your hypothetical government employee written smut of the past vs the debased scribbles of those awful straights of today and everything to do with the fact that a) self-publishing has created a voracious readership that wants a ton of content so it's become a viable, flexible income stream for many, especially disabled people b) anyone can publish now with self-publishing tools so there are less gatekeepers and c) lockdown got a lot of people into fandom and therefore writing who never tried it before.

And if you really think there's no "shitty" published mlm and no "book-quality" m/f writing out there that started as fanfic, then you are clearly not a reader so why are you even talking about this?

[sidsinning]

They deadass cut off the part of the piece with my signature lol

Can't have nice things without big ass watermarks on everything or you'll get sniped like this

[lord-nichron]

Lately I've been reading the collected Judge Dredd stories. I've always enjoyed the dystopian vibe and harsh humor of the series.

Then I came across this particular bit of outlandish dystopian fiction, a horrible future where machines replace artists. Constantly regurgitaing what has come before...

What a nasty vision of the future John Wagner and Cam Kennedy had in 1986…

But for some reason, the sleazy bussinessman's rationalization seemed weirdly familiar...

As did the feeling of the fictional artist who had all his hard work and talent stolen from him.

[solsays]

I truly love the duality of gtws playlist covers

[doturtlesdream]

don’t you love clothes that totally aren’t yours and are also wayyyyy too big

no remorse

leo does it too for the record

[shih-coulda-had-it]

FEBUWHUMP | KILLING IN SELF-DEFENSE | WC: 999

a/n: Set in that AU where Sorahiko (Prime Torino) time-travels to AFO and Yoichi's childhood and manages with his B+ parenting skills. TW for ableist language (used in context of this being a very anti-Quirk era) and, well, Sorahiko knifing the guy.

//

If it had been Nana or Toshinori in this position, Sorahiko muses, they would have had a tougher time getting accustomed to the sheer brutality of the era. Their present isn’t perfect, but they at least have the economy and government in working order. This is just chaos, through and through.

People lie, cheat, and steal to make it through the day, and Sorahiko genuinely has no idea how the country’s still managing an influx of goods when it seems like the world is too busy imploding to maintain a trade network.

Not his problem.

He’s got two children to mind. Food and shelter, that’s what he promised them, and he aims to deliver. The latter is a broken-down residential building, empty of any permanent legal inhabitants because of the roaming mobs and people like Sorahiko (squatters).

And as for the former, well. Sorahiko’s working on it.

“You kids want to go to the countryside?” he asks idly. Against his better judgment, he’s had to let them follow him outside the building, because the probability of Chibi-AFO taking his absence as permission to run away is much, much higher than zero. Sorahiko carries the smaller boy on his hip, and Chibi-AFO has the dubious honor of sitting on his shoulders. 

He left the uniform at home, opting for a beat-up denim jacket over his black turtleneck, jeans, and sneakers. The boys have been scrubbed clean(ish), and dressed in better clothes (though when Chibi-AFO’s base standard is a repurposed garbage bag, anything is a massive improvement).

Wandering down a street in broad daylight would have had them clocked as a family. Sorahiko uncomfortably represses the weird twist of his gut, in favor of being grateful that it’s the dead of night, as they are looking for a convenience store to rob.

“What’s that?” the smaller boy asks.

“The countryside? It’s outside the city. Quiet, if you don’t count the bugs, but pretty boring after a while. Lots of green. Probably better food.”

“No,” Chibi-AFO mutters into his hair. “Don’t wanna go.”

He sighs. Part of him--the city boy who much preferred streets of asphalt and plenty of high buildings--agrees with the toddler. The rest of him thinks that Chibi-AFO is simply being contrary. 

Ever since they discovered that Sorahiko can’t be affected by his Quirk-stealing power (it was a downright relief to know that Jet wouldn’t disappear in the middle of the night; it was absolutely hilarious to see Chibi-AFO’s face as his last murder attempt failed to spear Sorahiko’s shin, bouncing off like the black energy was made of rubber), Chibi-AFO’s been pouty and prone to temper tantrums. The smaller boy is awed to see Sorahiko survive every time.

“It’s nicer in the summer,” he says.

“Why?”

Sorahiko considers his memories of going to his grandparents’ house as a child. The backyard garden, the forest surrounding the mountain village, the many terrifyingly large bugs that found cozy homes in his blankets… He clears his throat. “Because it’s worse in the winter.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“Well, what do you know,” Sorahiko drawls, hitching the smaller boy a little higher. “You’re just a baby. I know a lot more than you.”

The specifics of what the boys seemed to know and understand about the world, their life, or even each other remains a total mystery to Sorahiko. They haven’t given him names yet, and he’s not inclined to do anything like renaming them. They don’t know how old they are, and they don’t know the name of the city they were wandering in. They can’t read, and they certainly don’t know how to write.

Chibi-AFO digs his tiny gremlin fingers into Sorahiko’s hair. “Not babies,” he mutters, and Sorahiko is about to jostle the kid when, of all the times and places, a man staggers out of an alley ahead, spots them, and brandishes a familiar whistle.

“Metas,” he snarls.

Sorahiko makes several rapid calculations. The man is sober, not drunk. That means Sorahiko can’t rely on inflicting a simple head concussion to compound any memory issues. Chibi-AFO is tense on his shoulders, and the smaller boy has instinctively made himself smaller, even as he clutches one of his brother’s ankles.

“Move even once,” he hears himself snarl back, “and I’ll make sure it’s your last. We’re just on a walk.”

“Diseased freaks shouldn’t be allowed out of the quarantine zones,” the man says, and he pulls out a knife too. Then, like a true fanatic, he goes to blow the whistle in order to flag a squad of Meta X-ers to gather.

Sorahiko crouches down and pries the smaller boy’s clinging hands off, wrenches Chibi-AFO off along with his jacket. The shrill call of the whistle sings in the previously quiet night; Sorahiko catches both boys in the jacket and squeezes their shoulders, stares hard at them.

“This’ll be quick,” he promises, and whips around at the sound of rubber soles hitting asphalt.

Knife raised. The man is mid-lunge. Sorahiko pounces with a burst of Jet, tackles him back, wrestling the knife out of the now desperate grip. The man writhes under him, like he’s just realized that he’s picked a fight against a Meta with teeth. Insults spill out of the man’s mouth, filthy enough that Sorahiko sees red when he takes the wooden handle and pins his opponent to the ground by the throat.

How many Meta X-ers are in the area? Does Sorahiko have enough time to smash and grab a few containers of instant noodles before they need to flee to the roofs? Why are people so stupid--

“White hair,” the man wheezes, and Sorahiko redoubles his grip on the knife. He wishes the man would just shut up and preserve his own life. He wishes he hadn’t brought the boys along. “White hair, light eyes, two kids. White hair… light eyes… two kids…!”

Sorahiko plunges the knife down, and hears the man manage one more, “Monster!” before sharpened steel pierces flesh and bone.

[muchcelebrated]

I love the idea of Jack pickpocketing Belle for fun/to tease her and/or him and Fagin teaching her how to do it as well.

Bonus points if like she surprises them and is actually pretty decent at it. Like since Jack is so skilled at surgery because of his quick fingers from pickpocketing then the reverse is true too, Belle’s quick fingers from surgery make her a natural at thieving.

[geisterzeit-art]

No distractions

[clearpoolart]

I accepted the challenge

Inspired by this post

[myemyehere]

What's my deal? I'm just so glad that you're real

[dnangelic]

dark to me btw is a swan is a crow is a vulture is a cat is a snake.

[iyote]

day 11 [Friendship: Iggy]

[pikapeppa]

WARNING: Etsy shop that steals from artists

I was bopping around on Etsy and found a shop that has stolen art from the wonderful talented @jukeboxindie.

DO NOT BUY FROM THIS STORE. They absolutely did not have Indie's permission to sell their designs.

Artist friends: you may want to check out this seller to see if they've stolen your designs. If you see that they stole your designs, you can report them to Etsy for intellectual property infringement at this portal. (The IP policy is here.) You will need an Etsy login to report them, just FYI.

If you see art that you recognize as belonging to an artist, please let the artist know in private, and message the seller to tell them that they're on notice.

In the meantime, if you want to show your support for the real Indie, their Redbubble shop is here!

[haleyincarnate]

She is a foreign entity to me. Her and all her bravery, her carelessness, her destructive tendencies. I loathe her and miss her all the same. Just because things are no longer the same doesn’t mean those memories are dead. I am fearful of time and its wicked ways, its thievery, even if the future holds peace and safety. To be in my early 20’s again would be a dream; I would be so, so kind to myself. I would do so many things differently. I am grateful to be here today to serve my heart and body as it should be. There are days I still struggle with self-love, but man, is it good to not be where I was. Sending love to anyone still figuring their own shit out. It doesn’t get easier but you understand things on a deeper level. You react differently. Hang in there.

[lockpicnic]

something old, something new, something stolen, something blue

It's the dream of so many young women, and yet she can't help but believe she wants it more than anyone else.

Even at a young age her one true dream was to marry a wealthy man. Nobility preferred, but not required as long as he had the cash. She had a lot of mouths to feed after all, and the line of work the Yngvi siblings once found themselves in didn’t always cut it. Marriage was simply for convenience in her mind— something a cute girl could use to get her way. Rarely did she think about whether or not they’d really love each other.

But that didn’t stop her from dreaming of that fairytale wedding, being walked down the aisle by a father she never knew the face of with a wide grin on her face. The man waiting for her at the altar has no discernible features, and yet the way she looks at him is as if he was the only man in the world.

Every morning after that dream she could hardly remember the details, save for the image of a ribbon from her hair dancing in the wind.

———

Even as she fought during the war the idea of getting married never left her mind. A Prince like Shannan or Seliph would have done nicely (she would’ve considered the others too if they weren’t so…preoccupied with women of their own— she was a thief, but that didn’t make her a monster who would steal someone else’s man), but they never seemed to even glance in her direction unless she called for their attention first.

Yet the dreams of marriage persisted. This time her mother (at least, the mother she knew from the tales,) was brushing her hair, telling her just how proud she was of her. It was one of her favourite dreams at the time, always ending with her mother stepping away from the vanity to reveal a beautiful wedding dressed made just for her. It looked straight out of a fairytale!

Perhaps that was why it only belonged in her dreams.

———

Her arrival in Fódlan only made the thought of marriage grow more and more invasive, noble men from continents she’s never heard of finding themselves in the exact same halls as a girl like her. How could resist such a golden opportunity? It didn’t matter if her grades were poor— bagging a rich husband meant there was no need for any sort of formal education!

So when a travelling wedding boutique first arrived in town she knew she had to go and look at it for herself. Even if she didn’t have any suitors yet it was never too early to window shop! While all the dresses were gorgeous, the veils were what truly stood out to the thief. Never did she think they could come in so many different styles!

That night she dreamt of her brother. He teases her as always, but the teasing soon ends in kind words. He’s proud of her for settling down, and those words alone leave her in tears (and with wet cheeks once she woke up). Before she could react a veil is placed on her head, one with flowers adorning the crown, and he wishes her good luck with her new husband.

The next day she returns to the boutique before they close, stashing an exact veil inside of her bag. It’s fine— they probably wouldn’t miss it.

———

Rarely did Patty busy herself with gardening anymore. Out of all the little domestic hobbies she’s picked up it was by far her worst one, but something about the greenhouse felt more calming in the last few months. Blue and white flowers sprout from the earth, shining under the sun’s rays.

“They’d look cute in a vase— ooo, or maybe a bouquet!” She spoke to herself, imagining the arrangement she could make with the patches of flowers. For most brides it would probably be a little too plain…but the longer she stared at them, the more and more perfect her imaginary bouquet grew. “And maybe I could get one of the big blue ones on my dress to spice it up— give it a lil splash of colour!”

It had been awhile since she last thought of her dream wedding. She always thought her wedding would become more of a priority as she grew older…but it turned out that the older you got, the more things you had to worry about. That didn’t mean that she didn’t like to sit and day dream about it still, however.

She could especially envision just how it would look now: it would be held in Yngvi, the courtyard decorated to the nines! Of course the orphans would be there too, all cleaned up and ready to be her flower boys and girls! Febail would be there, just like how he was in her dream…though, maybe it would be him walking her down the aisle? Or would that job have to go to Uncle Andrei instead? It didn’t really matter in the end, so long as they were both attending.

“…Or maybe I’ll end up meetin’ some bad boy and eloping.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. Now that would have Andrei cross…but it didn’t really matter how it happened, right? So long as she was someone’s blushing bride she would be happy!

The thief slowly rises from her spot, eyes trailing from the patches of flowers to where the Lady-of-Mourning once grew.

“It don’t matter how I get it or who I get it with…I know I’m gonna get my happily ever after soon!”

Patty has mastered Bride!

[unityrain24]

just saw some really pretty loki fanart except i'm like 98% was ai generated (and therefor not art), but it's saddening and even scary because like... i want to know who the lovely artist whose pretty artstyle got stolen. With it being ai generated, i cannot trace back the way i can with simply regular stolen art that's had the watermark removed. it's sad because that artist cannot be found and will never get the credit and their art has been stolen and disfigured. and it's scary because of how much art ai has scrapped that it's like... getting harder and harder to tell if it's ai or not. So much art has been scrapped that it's learned to stop making stupid mistakes like extra fingers and duplicates of elements in strange nonsensical places. why. why. is the future so bleak we aren't even going to have the basic human trait of creativity and art to get us through hard times? or will that be stolen from us too?