#web hosting allows

[ekingston]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

PLEASE check my later versions of this post via my main page to make sure you have the latest version of this post before you reblog. All the information I’ve been able to gather is in my reblogs below, and it's frustrating to see the old version getting passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much!

[ganesh85465]

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[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.

[numbpill]

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

[tutorial: build your own neocities/nekoweb page]

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

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

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

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

[ prerequisites ]

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

> an idea

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

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

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

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

[ feeling overwhelmed? read this. ]

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

you do *not* need to know everything.

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

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

you can build your site piece by piece.

and every piece is a portal to somewhere personal.

you are allowed to make broken pages.

you are allowed to use templates.

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

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

[ step 1: create an account ]

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

> neocities: https://neocities.org

> nekoweb: https://nekoweb.org

register a name, log in, and enter your file manager.

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

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

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

make a new file: `index.html`

basic starter:

<html>

<head>

<title>my weird little corner</title>

<link rel="stylesheet" href="style.css">

</head>

<body>

<h1>welcome to the void</h1>

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

<img src="mygif.gif">

</body>

</html>

> upload to the dashboard

> boom. you’re live at

https://yoursite.neocities.org

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

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

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

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

here’s some nostalgic magic:

body {

background: url('tile.gif');

color: lime;

font-family: "Courier New", monospace;

text-shadow: 1px 1px 0 black;

}

img {

image-rendering: pixelated;

}

marquee {

font-size: 20px;

color: magenta;

}

link it in your html and the vibes activate.

[ step 4: decorate it like a haunted usb ]

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

> use <marquee> for chaos scrolls

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

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

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

> loop audio with <audio autoplay loop>

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

[ step 5: resources, themes, and comfort ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

remember:

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

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

the html will follow.

[ bonus concept: shrine pages ]

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

> a page just for one character you love

> a room to house digital fragments of your identity

> embed quotes, music, images like altars

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

[ closing mantra ]

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

you are not here to be optimized.

you are not a brand.

you are a ghost inside the machine,

carving your initials into the silicon void.

welcome to Your website.

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

[damlahayal]

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[littlest-w01f]

Sentiments

Azriel x Reader

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

Starfall Week 2025 Masterlist

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

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

Cw: Fluff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[codingquill]

Essentials You Need to Become a Web Developer

HTML, CSS, and JavaScript Mastery

Text Editor/Integrated Development Environment (IDE): Popular choices include Visual Studio Code, Sublime Text.

Version Control/Git: Platforms like GitHub, GitLab, and Bitbucket allow you to track changes, collaborate with others, and contribute to open-source projects.

Responsive Web Design Skills: Learn CSS frameworks like Bootstrap or Flexbox and master media queries

Understanding of Web Browsers: Familiarize yourself with browser developer tools for debugging and testing your code.

Front-End Frameworks: for example : React, Angular, or Vue.js are powerful tools for building dynamic and interactive web applications.

Back-End Development Skills: Understanding server-side programming languages (e.g., Node.js, Python, Ruby , php) and databases (e.g., MySQL, MongoDB)

Web Hosting and Deployment Knowledge: Platforms like Heroku, Vercel , Netlify, or AWS can help simplify this process.

Basic DevOps and CI/CD Understanding

Soft Skills and Problem-Solving: Effective communication, teamwork, and problem-solving skills

Confidence in Yourself: Confidence is a powerful asset. Believe in your abilities, and don't be afraid to take on challenging projects. The more you trust yourself, the more you'll be able to tackle complex coding tasks and overcome obstacles with determination.

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Henry gets jealous because you spend time with Richard

The risk of jealousy - TSH

Henry Marchbanks Winter x GN!Reader

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

The sharp claw of jealousy finally scratches the untouchable Henry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, I see. Henry is jealous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[feminist-space]

"Artists have finally had enough with Meta’s predatory AI policies, but Meta’s loss is Cara’s gain. An artist-run, anti-AI social platform, Cara has grown from 40,000 to 650,000 users within the last week, catapulting it to the top of the App Store charts.

Instagram is a necessity for many artists, who use the platform to promote their work and solicit paying clients. But Meta is using public posts to train its generative AI systems, and only European users can opt out, since they’re protected by GDPR laws. Generative AI has become so front-and-center on Meta’s apps that artists reached their breaking point.

“When you put [AI] so much in their face, and then give them the option to opt out, but then increase the friction to opt out… I think that increases their anger level — like, okay now I’ve really had enough,” Jingna Zhang, a renowned photographer and founder of Cara, told TechCrunch.

Cara, which has both a web and mobile app, is like a combination of Instagram and X, but built specifically for artists. On your profile, you can host a portfolio of work, but you can also post updates to your feed like any other microblogging site.

Zhang is perfectly positioned to helm an artist-centric social network, where they can post without the risk of becoming part of a training dataset for AI. Zhang has fought on behalf of artists, recently winning an appeal in a Luxembourg court over a painter who copied one of her photographs, which she shot for Harper’s Bazaar Vietnam.

“Using a different medium was irrelevant. My work being ‘available online’ was irrelevant. Consent was necessary,” Zhang wrote on X.

Zhang and three other artists are also suing Google for allegedly using their copyrighted work to train Imagen, an AI image generator. She’s also a plaintiff in a similar lawsuit against Stability AI, Midjourney, DeviantArt and Runway AI.

“Words can’t describe how dehumanizing it is to see my name used 20,000+ times in MidJourney,” she wrote in an Instagram post. “My life’s work and who I am—reduced to meaningless fodder for a commercial image slot machine.”

Artists are so resistant to AI because the training data behind many of these image generators includes their work without their consent. These models amass such a large swath of artwork by scraping the internet for images, without regard for whether or not those images are copyrighted. It’s a slap in the face for artists – not only are their jobs endangered by AI, but that same AI is often powered by their work.

“When it comes to art, unfortunately, we just come from a fundamentally different perspective and point of view, because on the tech side, you have this strong history of open source, and people are just thinking like, well, you put it out there, so it’s for people to use,” Zhang said. “For artists, it’s a part of our selves and our identity. I would not want my best friend to make a manipulation of my work without asking me. There’s a nuance to how we see things, but I don’t think people understand that the art we do is not a product.”

This commitment to protecting artists from copyright infringement extends to Cara, which partners with the University of Chicago’s Glaze project. By using Glaze, artists who manually apply Glaze to their work on Cara have an added layer of protection against being scraped for AI.

Other projects have also stepped up to defend artists. Spawning AI, an artist-led company, has created an API that allows artists to remove their work from popular datasets. But that opt-out only works if the companies that use those datasets honor artists’ requests. So far, HuggingFace and Stability have agreed to respect Spawning’s Do Not Train registry, but artists’ work cannot be retroactively removed from models that have already been trained.

“I think there is this clash between backgrounds and expectations on what we put on the internet,” Zhang said. “For artists, we want to share our work with the world. We put it online, and we don’t charge people to view this piece of work, but it doesn’t mean that we give up our copyright, or any ownership of our work.”"

Read the rest of the article here:

https://techcrunch.com/2024/06/06/a-social-app-for-creatives-cara-grew-from-40k-to-650k-users-in-a-week-because-artists-are-fed-up-with-metas-ai-policies/

[acronym49]

My takes on the Wof tribes!!

Skywings: Fast efficient hunters of mountain terrain. They have a much higher stomach acidity, allowing them to digest bone and neutralize bacteria that would be dangerous to other tribes. Wings claws have hooked talons to make it easier to cling to sheer rock faces (or the palace walls even), where they sometimes like to sleep. Pupils are round, and there's a ring of bone that keeps the eyes sharp and prevents shape warping with age. Fastest fliers, but not the longest fliers.

Icewings: A combination of cute and elegance, soft and sharpness. Wide spread paws to disperse weight on snow, with thick hollow fur that traps in heat. Horns are some of the most decorative, used for display or battle. Fur color can range between pure white, or even mottled darker greys to blend in with the taiga forest of their lower territory. They have good endurance and extremely keen senses, as well as a built in tolerance to excessive light.

Nightwings: Steathy both in air and on land. Paws are adapted specifically to be silent, as they are ambush hunters. Eyes have the strongest night vision of any tribe, but can be sensitive to daylight. Wing feathers are fringed for silent flight, as well as the tail fans and tip. Fur is lightweight but warm, as they were originally built to live in the tundra forests between the Ice Kingdom and Sand Kingdom. Very long canine teeth, they like to haul prey up into trees to eat.

Sandwings: Long- legged and extremely opportunistic. They use a mixture of fur and scales to keep cool air in and warm air out, which is used also to keep the warmth in for the cool nights. Paw pads are thickly furred to create a barrier between skin and hot sand. Despite being efficient fliers, a lot of Sandwings prefer to chase their prey on foot, a task aided by their long legs and tail. Wings are the longest of all the tribes, broad in shape and used for soaring on thermal currents when the ground is too hot.

Mudwings: Semi-aquatic, with an incredible bite force. Their frills are surprisingly thick and sturdy, able to huld up well against bites or piercing. Paws and wing claws are both webbed for movement in water. Their wings are similar to Rainwings, being broad and eliptical, but lean more towards heron wings than that of a harpy eagle. Can hold their breath for up to an hour, and host many whiskers to feel for prey in murky water. Lips have small dotted pores that pick up electromagnetic currents for this same purpose. Bite force is one to be reckoned with.

Seawings: Heavily adapted to water, but still surprisingly efficient on land. Their running speed is still just as good as other tribes, even a little on the fast end. Their head and body are all streamlined, skin covered in tiny toothlike scales to keep them sturdy yet swift. Numerous fins, with two on either side for stability and steering, and a powerful fluked tail. Wings are considerably flexible as they close nearly flush to the body when swimming.

Rainwings: Masters of camoflauge and color. Frills on the back, neck, and tail are all very thin, with moveable spines connecting them. These frills are moved in a natural wave formation to mimic shifting leaves while hiding. Their paws and wing claws are nimble yet deceptively strong, the hooks are able to support nearly the entire weight of the dragon. They have both sensory whiskers and modified whiskers for decoration, as well as heat pits to detect other lifeforms. With this, hiding rainwings can lower their temperature to not be found. Colors are usually only for decoration or camo, so it's common to see lots of contrast and variety in the villages.

[cece693]

Space for Two (Salvatore Brothers x M! Vamp Reader)

Summary: You met the Salvatore Brothers when they were only human, inexplicably falling for both of them.

tags: human Salvatore brothers, manipulative reader, reader who still has feelings, Katherine is present, abandonment, no happy ending

Traveling with Katherine to the Salvatore estate was meant to be nothing special. She was your sire, and the thought of abandoning her, while perhaps sensible, would be agonizing. She meant everything to you—not romantically, but in a way that transcended mere affection. When you were human, she had been the one to see your suffering, dragging you from the unforgiving streets and granting you a second chance at life. That bond, forged in your darkest hour, made it impossible to imagine a world where you weren’t by her side.

As your carriage approached the grand entrance of the Salvatore estate, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the grounds. The estate itself, a stately manor of Southern charm, stood proudly against the backdrop of the Virginia woods. The air was thick with the scent of blooming magnolias, mingling with the musty undertone of old wood and history.

Katherine, ever poised, stepped out of the carriage first, her dress whispering against the gravel pathway, blatantly ignoring the hand outstretched in front of her. You followed suit, looking at the driver indifferently before falling in step with your sire. You felt eyes on you; the culprits being two men who had stopped mid-play to watch you and Katherine. It was easy to guess who they were—the Salvatore brothers. Perhaps this stay will provide more entertainment than initially thought.

Time passed swiftly at the Salvatore estate, the days blending into nights as you and Katherine settled into your roles as guests. The brothers were the perfect hosts, eager to please and always vying for your attention. It wasn’t long before you found yourself drawn to both of them, each offering something different, something irresistible.

Stefan, with his gentle nature and sincere affection, made you feel almost human again. You spent long afternoons with him, strolling through the lush gardens, discussing literature, or simply enjoying the peaceful silence of the Virginia countryside. He was a breath of fresh air, and you found yourself wanting to be near him more and more.

But then there was Damon—wild, unpredictable, and intoxicating. He was everything Stefan was not, and it thrilled you to no end. Damon’s charm was dangerous, his flirtations bold and unapologetic. He made you laugh, challenged you, and kept you on your toes.

Yet, you were not innocent. You were manipulative, and you knew how to play the game. You were Katherine's creation after all.

You allowed yourself to indulge in both brothers, carefully crafting a web of lies and half-truths that kept them both on the hook. With Stefan, you let slip that Damon had made advances. Stefan’s jealousy was immediate, though he tried to hide it behind a mask of calm. But you could see it—the way his eyes darkened when Damon’s name was mentioned, the way his grip on your hand tightened when you spoke his name.

With Damon, you spun a different tale. You hinted that Stefan had confessed feelings for you, that he was trying to steal you away. Damon’s response was more visceral, more passionate. He began to seek you out more frequently, his touches lingering, his words dripping with possessiveness. The rivalry between the brothers, already simmering beneath the surface, began to bubble over, fueled by the seeds of jealousy you had planted.

Katherine watched with a knowing smile, her amusement clear as she observed the chaos you had sown. It was intoxicating, watching them both unravel, knowing that you were at the center of their conflict. But as the days turned into weeks, something unexpected happened—you began to fall for them, truly and deeply. It wasn’t part of the plan, but the emotions that had started as a game had become all too real.

Then, one evening, everything came crashing down.

Whispers began to spread through the town—rumors of strange happenings, of creatures that walked the night. The people were growing suspicious, and it wasn’t long before they discovered the truth.

“Katherine, we have to leave.” you urged one night, watching the flickering lights of torches in the distance. The townspeople were coming, their fear driving them to violence.

“I know. We must be quick. But what about the—”

“They’ll be fine.” you cut her off, though your heart ached at the thought of leaving Stefan and Damon behind. “They'll forget all about us soon."

Katherine didn't seem convinced but followed you into the night. The sounds of the town’s anger faded behind you, but the tension in your chest only grew heavier. You knew Stefan and Damon would wake to find you gone, and you could only imagine their despair.

"Wait!" a familiar voice yelled, slicing through the stillness of the night. You stopped in your tracks, heart pounding as you turned to see Stefan and Damon standing at the edge of the woods, breathless and wild-eyed.

Katherine stiffened beside you, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the situation. You could feel the tension radiating from her—she was seconds away from silencing them for good. Without hesitation, you placed a hand on her arm, a firm, silent command.

"Go." you whispered, your tone colder than before. "I have loose ends to cut off."

Katherine hesitated, her gaze searching your face for any sign of weakness or second thoughts. When she found none, she nodded curtly and vanished into the night, leaving you alone with the brothers.

They approached slowly, their faces a mix of confusion, fear, and something else—something that only made this harder. "Where are you going?" Stefan asked, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. Damon looked down at the bag in your hands, opting to stay silent, his eyes burning with unspoken questions.

"I don’t have to tell you anything!" You allowed the anger to flare in your voice, masking the turmoil beneath with a cold, indifferent façade.

"Bullshit!" Damon roared, his blue eyes blazing with fury. "We deserve at least that much after you played with both of us."

You took a step closer, your presence looming as the air around you thickened with tension. "You want the truth?" you asked, your voice low and dangerous, every word laced with menace. "Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you."

With a slow, deliberate motion, you let the mask of humanity you had worn for months slip away. The warmth in your eyes vanished, replaced by an eerie darkness as veins crawled beneath your skin like twisted vines. Your fangs extended, sharp and gleaming in the pale moonlight, a reminder of the predator lurking beneath the surface.

"This is what I am."

Stefan gasped, instinctively taking a step back, his face paling in horror. Damon’s expression twisted, trying to reconcile the person he thought he knew with the creature before him. "What…what are you?"

"A monster. A demon. A nightwalker. A vampire. Take your pick."

"Why didn’t you tell us?"

A harsh, bitter laugh bubbled up from within you, the sound echoing cruelly in the stillness of the night. "Really, Stefan? Why? How would you have liked me to reveal this to you? Over a stroll in the garden? A dinner with your father?" You shook your head, the absurdity of it all gnawing at you. "Be glad I even told you this. Katherine would’ve left with no explanations."

Damon’s anger flared again, but this time there was a hint of sorrow in his eyes, a vulnerability that he rarely let show. "Was any of it real?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft, the question cutting deeper than any accusation.

The question, so unlike Damon, made you feel a pang of remorse. For a moment, the facade threatened to crack. But you knew you had to do this, to sever the ties that had bound you to them. You couldn’t afford to let them in any deeper.

You met his gaze, your resolve hardening like ice. "What we had was a lie built on a lie." you said, the words sharp and final. "You fell for a fantasy, Damon. Nothing more."

"So that’s it, then? You’re just going to leave?" Stefan sought.

"You should be thanking me for that." You replied icily. "For sparing you from what I am. You’ll live your lives, grow old, have families—things you wouldn’t be able to do if you stayed with me."

Damon clenched his fists, his voice trembling as he struggled to maintain his composure. "We could’ve had forever."

"Forever isn’t what you think it is. And it’s not something I’ll let you throw away."

The brothers stood there, stunned and broken, as you turned your back on them, the last vestiges of your humanity slipping away as you stepped into the shadows. This was how it had to be, you told yourself, even as the ache in your chest made you doubt everything.

"Goodbye." you whispered into the night, knowing they wouldn’t follow, knowing that this was the last time you would see them as the men they were—human, flawed, and painfully mortal.

[shuaver]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⋆⠀˚⠀⠀sanrio event⠀⠀˖⠀°

thank you all sm for 50 follower again ､ for celebration and a thank you, i wanted to host an event for you lovelies please don't let it flop ( ˶ᵔ ᵔ) ♡

how to enter : ╴comment joining ╴reblog, tagging 3+ people who you think might join ╴dm me a number 1-10 for your sanrio character ╴when posting your moodboard entry, use the tag: " ⠀⤷⠀𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛﹕sanrio event ⠀⊹ ❤︎⠀ " (found in the tags below) or it will not be counted  tag me in the comments or post so i can see it !

rules : ╴your moodboard must be 90% by you. ( things like dividers, gifs or locs that are made by others are allowed ) ╴no copying or stealing. inspo is allowed but not plagiarism ╴one moodboard entry per person ╴you must create a moodboard based on the sanrio character you received ╴deadline is july 14 please lmk if you need an extension !

prizes : ╴1st place : 100 reblogs, 3 custom moodboards, 2 custom dividers ╴2nd place : 75 reblogs, 2 custom moodboards, 1 custom divider ╴3rd place : 50 reblogs, 1 custom moodboard ╴╴all participants will receive comments, a like, and a reblog on the entry !

tags : my friends and new moots ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ ⠀sorry for ur uncomfortable w the tag ! @rkkuri @jicito @wnhee @minguus @yawnznn @m00nbap @storyofcats @daddldee @seorain @s2kahei @cg1rl @sgyuzzz @bearies-and-cream @also-web @petieon @wintericlub @i-mmaculatus @hyelita @gigittamic @aericita

[the-conspiracy-board]

Thinking about the Magnus Archives Fears and how I don't think they'd have any success in Night Vale. Just imagine the Fears trying to establish themselves there, and how Night Vale already has them all covered...

- The Eye, that sees and knows everything? You mean like Cecil Palmer, the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home, the Sherrif's Secret Police?

- The Buried, that cloying claustrophobia, feeling the weight of all of the earth above you and not being able to flee from it? Well, Night Vale has houses that collapse into sink holes, and giant purple worms that burrow under the ground and emerge in a dust storm, and a miniature city under lane five at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, so burying as a concept is a little... been there, done that.

- The Slaughter, that sees you mindlessly, erratically destroy everyone and everything? Night Vale got that covered in the Blood Space War, in the fight against that miniature city, in any of countless battles.

- The Web, that plots and spins its own machinations and taunts you with them? You mean the People's Church of the Smiling God, Station Management, government officials, the Labyrinth, whatever Big Rico is up to in that basement?

- The Vast, an endless expanse that you can never escape? Did you mean the Desert Otherworld, Night Vale itself, or looking up into the Mysterious Lights that Flash Overhead While We All Pretend to Sleep?

- The Stranger.... also known as anyone the town chases away with cries of 'Interloper', or the Appalachian Tracker (who's really just a super racist white guy in a Native American headress who speaks in Russian), or the Man in the Tan Jacket, or the Man Who is Not Tall and his companion, the Man Who is Not Small?

- The Spiral and all it's many Distortions? You mean like the mysterious corporation whose logo is a literal labyrinth, or that house out on the edge of town that leads to the Desert Otherworld, or Khoshekh?

- The Dark... well, that doesn't do a whole lot when there's a void in the Dog Park that people are NOT allowed to go into, when there's an infinite black above that is lit only by the Lights Above the Arby's.

- The Corruption, and it's sicknesses and plagues? Mm, well Night Vale outlawed Wheat and Wheat By-Products when the wheat turned to snakes, and there's a well established plague of Throat Spiders, and every single soul is corrupt in one way or another.

- The Lonely can't really get its legs underneath it when everyone is suspicious of their neighbours, when the Numbers Station is hosted by a woman who doesn't know herself, when Cecil Palmer doesn't remember who he was and all of the things that happened in his past, when the Condos exist as they do, when there are Angels (all named Erika) who DO NOT EXIST and cannot be known.

- The Hunt hasn't got anything to go off when Murder Night in Blood Forest is coming to a town near you, when Kevin and Lauren are popping into town to recruit for their malevolent Smiling God, when the Librarians will eat you if you linger too long.

- The Desolation and how it brings destruction and so much personal loss... well Carlos was trapped in that Desert Other World all that time, and Cecil doesn't remember much of his mother, and time and the fates force lovers to seperate.

- The Flesh will only be celebrated in a town that plays host to Torniquet (the best restaurant in town!) and wears Soft Meat Crowns to celebrate the founding of the town itself, and has Josh who changes their form at will.

- And the End.... well, the end doesn't really exist in Night Vale, not when there's ghosts who drive the taxi's, when Cecil Palmer's predecessor still shares his broadcasts from an Other Place, when death is well established to be a temporary affair.

[dosesofcommonsense]

Don’t believe me?

I challenge you to watch this short video.

**I couldn’t watch it all the way through. It breaks my heart and repulses me that the “abortion is healthcare” motto is used in society.

Abortions have happened for centuries. It’s not like they’re a new thing. However, thanks to Margaret Sanger (Nazi) and her work in eugenics to sterilize the human race through the targeting of black communities AND Hillary Clinton championing and mainstreaming her work, the present abortion culture and satanic sacrificial system is accepted as a form of healthcare when it’s far from it.

Baby pictured at 14-22 weeks. Looks like a tiny human.

Link: https://www.abortionprocedures.com/

Can you stomach the video?

So, out of 1200 abortions, none of the pregnancies endangered the mom’s life - though the abortion endangers the mom’s life and future ability to have kids. Hmm.

Mom’s host babies. Give the baby any name you want, it’s still a baby inside the mom.

And while we’re here. Implanting a baby inside a man’s rectum “so he can give birth” is evil, is sick, and doesn’t make him a mom.

Stop affirming mental illness and let women shine as women. Men and women are different AND that’s a great thing. We complement each other. Men provide and lead; women nurture and raise kids. They are the roles we are designed for. Masculinity isn’t toxic; the absence of men is toxic.

Or there’s the damning study that found the direct correlation between a mom’s mental illness and the kid’s desire to be trans.

Of course, some people are just crazy. Look. Clinton pitched this same sad story when Roe was returned to the states where it belongs. If your state doesn’t allow abortions, you’re able to find a state that does and have the abortion there. Much like getting a tattoo from any studio you want, you can cut that kid up wherever you like. Do I agree with it? Fuck no. Can you do it? Yeah. Is it wise? No. But that’s the ruthlessness of personal choices.

Maybe this mom sounds like someone you know…an activist mom fighting for “the right to kill a baby” that you - didn’t - have - wait a minute…that sure sounds like that proud mom is subtly saying she couldn’t kill her kid…mental illness comes in all forms.

It’s certainly not like Hillary is the only one to blame, but she’s definitely near the top of the pyramid. If she hadn’t championed Sanger and abortions and helped Planned Parenthood get taxpayer money, we wouldn’t be facing the same battle or same level of sin.

Make no mistake. This is a spiritual battle with an ugly dark web of deceit surrounding abortion and what it actually means to all involved for that abortion to happen.

If you want to fund this stuff, set up a GoFundMe. As for our tax dollars, our tax money belongs nowhere near this evil system.

Joe Biden was pro abortion until after the day the kid was born. Kamala was pro-after birth abortions. Your kid was just born; Kamala was ok killing that kid and calling it an abortion.

Is Trump a solid no abortion guy? No. On that topic we differ. However, he like me says it’s a state’s rights issue and not a federal issue. SCOTUS agreed with that.

[angellayercake]

There was a mouse in the house

Haarlep x Female Tav and Raphael x Female Tav (kind of) | NSFW

Warnings: cunniligus, p in v sex, voyeurism kind of? So I have not been able to play this game yet but this man has possessed me and something happened and yeah. I am going purely off a couple of youtube videos, vibes and horniness. It all started when Haarlep said that the host of they body they use feels everything they are doing which obviously means Raphael was well aware of what was going on in the boudoir.

He felt it the moment she set foot into the House of Hope. His fist tightened around the glass of wine he was holding and his artfully designed smile turned brittle at the edges as he felt the not unremarkable wards around his sanctuary open for an unauthorised portal. The potential client he was currently entertaining was none the wiser to his sudden inattention but he had hardly been paying attention to their prattling to begin with. His little mouse had decided to bite the hand that would have so willingly fed it, if she had only agreed to his generous offer. He hated to admit it even now but her continued refusal to work with him, even when he had already offered her so much had stung. He had allowed his ill advised affection for this particular client to cloud his typically impeccable judgement and as he should have foreseen, it was now being thrown back in his face. 

There was only one thing she could possibly be after, that which he would have freely given, well not freely but for such a reasonable price. But his house was not so hospitable to intruders. There was time yet to finish his business here. It may not be the soul he wanted but it was a soul nonetheless. He refocuses his attention on the task at hand, carefully choosing his words as he weaves his web around the man sitting before him. It’s easy work so he has to try that little bit harder to temper the simmering rage that is growing inside him. But then it is done, business concluded and he can see to his little thieving mouse.

As he is preparing to travel he feels the first shiver run down his spine. Surely Haarlep was not entertaining when there was a little thief on the loose and yet there was no mistaking that feeling. He pauses in the doorway of his rented room, uncharacteristically affected by his Incubus’ antics but something tells him to wait. There were only a few plausible possibilities for who could be the target of his servants attentions but before he can squash it his traitorous mind informs him exactly who he wants it to be. As soon as her name flits across his mind his body begins to betray him. 

His desperation for her to sign his contract, become one of his souls, well deep down he had been aware that this masked a much deeper, more primal want. How he wanted to own her body and mind as much as he craved ownership of her soul. Better not to dwell on those things, he had told himself, over and over. His needs were simple and really he could only rely on himself so why even risk letting anyone else close. But as he succumbs to the ghostly feeling of his body being touched by another he knows he is at the brink of his undoing. 

With a snap of his fingers his clothes are gone and as he falls back onto the suddenly convenient bed in his rented rooms, he concentrates on the vague tingling caresses in a way he hasn’t indulged in such a long time, until they begin to feel almost tangible. It seems his incubus is taking his time with this one, feeling and tasting as much as he can. He feels soft warm skin against his tongue, the taste unfortunately alluding him but he can almost imagine it as he recalls the spicy earthy scent that lingers around her every time they meet. In his hand he feels a soft breast cupped in his palm, a pebbled nipple circled by the pad of his thumb. He yearns to pinch it between his fingers, pull and twist it until she was gasping her pleasure into his mouth but he is restricted by whatever it is Haarlep choses to do next and when he feels her other perfect nipple against his tongue he can’t suppress a groan.

The floodgates were opened as his phantom teeth nibbled at her, every thought he had buried about her ample bosom, always so perfectly displayed in her coquettishly revealing armour, situated just so to tease and tantalise. He had never allowed the thought to linger previously, as well as any potential attraction she may have had towards him but now, knowing that she had requested Haarlep to take his form was confirmation enough. He could picture her as easily as he could feel her, she would be completely nude, the incubus would have insisted, spread out against his crimson sheets, her skin glowing in a beautiful contrast. He would find every mark and blemish on her left by any other inferior being and cover them with his own, made by his claws or his teeth until there was no doubt who she belonged to. He only hoped that Haarlep mapped her body as carefully as he needed so he could explore them all at his leisure. The smooth expanses of skin passing over his hands and lips filled him with hope that that was exactly what was happening at his house. 

He was more aroused then he could remember but he needed more even as he was hesitant to take things further himself. His cock even in his human shell stood erect between his legs, untouched though it was, and he had to fist his hands into the coarse sheets below him to avoid ending this encounter before it had truly begun. He felt his tongue trace what he only could guess was her belly button and his heart began to race at the destination the incubus was journeying towards. He settles back against the pillows as he imagined himself settling between her legs, his fingers spreading open her sweet cunt which would be already glistening with the slick evidence of her arousal just tempting him to taste. He feels her folds against the flat of his tongue, his own watering mouth simulating her wetness for him. He doesn’t need to but he finds himself simulating the movements he can feel, rolling his tongue against thin air as he would if he had her there to feast on himself.  

His hands must leave her thighs because he is all of a sudden blindsided by the vice like heat around his fingers. How excited she must be for the incubus’ thick fingers to sink into her with so little resistance although her cunt doesn’t seem to want to relinquish them as she clenches tight around them as they slide out of her. So close, she must be so close to cuming for him and he writhes, desperate to hear the sounds she would make as he pushed her to the point of oblivion. How her laboured breathing might feel against his heated skin, how she might moan or gasp or scream his name in her ecstasy. The feel of her around his fingers and tongue is suddenly gone, ripping him gasping from his fantasy and he feels bereft, sucking in heaving breaths as he remembers where he is but he is not left adrift for long, his hands finding contact with her soft skin once again. The feel of her grounds him even as the real sensation belongs to his incubus. In his fevered arousal he struggles to catch up with the pair of them, heated hands grasping at his shoulders, frantic lips biting at his own, a strong leg hooking over his hip pulling him in as close as he can get.   

It’s only when he feels the head of his cock lining up to her entrance that everything comes back into focus. He knows Haarlep and he knows exactly how he will tease her now he has her exactly where he wants her. He feels the drag of her folds over the head of his cock coating himself in her slick and stroking against her clit. He hopes she is begging now, begging to be filled by him. He would keep her waiting too, until there were tears falling down her cheeks and she could do nothing but whimper his name. He feels the tip breach her and then stop. He can’t bring himself to move as he waits with bated breath for her to be forced to take him fully and he waits and waits. He feels the spasms in his abdomen as everything is pulled taught and he spares a thought as he often does for his incubus’ impossible will power as he resists the temptation of her clenching hole. 

He begins to move so slowly, easing his thick cock into her inch by inch. Every time he thrusts he pushes a little deeper. She opens up for him so beautifully and he yearns to feel how wet she is for himself. He can’t help thrusting in time with Haarlep as he imagines her there with him now, riding his needy cock and having to work her way down his length until she could take all of him. He is straining against his horribly empty bed when his cock is finally sheathed in her soft wet heat and even the ghost of the sensation is enough to finish him. His climax hits him like a wall, muscles clenching as the pleasure shudders through his body. He arches off the bed as he spills his seed across his own chest, too high on his pleasure to even begin to feel shame at finishing untouched.  

He should move, he knows this but his limbs feel heavy and light simultaneously and he wishes to bask in this feeling for a moment longer. It is as he catches his breath he realises that the portal his little thief had used to breach his walls has closed. How curious. He acknowledged that he had lain here perhaps a little too long but surely not long enough for them to fight their way through the house and claim their stolen prize. Perhaps this little adventure of hers needn’t be the end of their game. He sits up preparing to rebuild his composure and return to assess the damage her and her party of misfits had left in their wake but he can’t keep the smile from his face. ‘Oh little mouse, you know not what you have started.’