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anachrosims · 6 days ago

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2024 CREATION WRAPPED! A Personal Creative Overview, & A Simblr 2024-Thank-You-Letter)

Here's all the things I uploaded this last year. (Skip past the +++++'s to get to the emotional and fluffy part.)

This isn't to brag, or to boast. I want to map out the creative journey I've had this last year since moving to a new state to start a whole new life.

I nearly became homeless at the end of 2020, and if I hadn't found the job I'm at now, I would have. I've endured severe depression, mild vitamin C deficiency, and a benign growth that has been absolutely crippling as it's literally been sucking my life away; on top of the deaths of two people I never would have made it this far without, while holding down a high-stress, high skill job in logistics.

I am proud to have gotten this far, and I'd like to illustrate that the last year, despite my exhaustion, I still did something. I wish I had done more, wish I could have done more creatively, but I did what I could do.

When the hours and minutes are painful and long, every victory is monumental.

Here's the lineup:

STATS:

11 total "sets"/uploads

66 total packages across all sets and item types

477 swatch variants, on objects that had more than 1 swatch

2,565 wall swatches between all wall heights

5 wall sets, with 19 unique total template variants, all using every wall height and each with at least 12-24+ colorways

1 floor, with 42 swatches

9 terrain paints

5 CAS items across 2 CAS sets, with 2 total PSD files, 1 for each respective set

3 portrait frames, 2 of them using unique, from-"scratch" meshes, texture maps, etc, with 118 total swatches between all 3 packages

2 faux magazine cover template PSDs

30 total objects edited, remeshed, recolored, or created wholesale

+ + + + + +

PORTRAITS!

Of portraits I've created, here are some of my favorites, plus their stats:

STATS:

105 total portraits, including edit variants (painting edit vs photo edit)

Portraiture eras range from the 17th century to the mid-late 20th century, with most portraits set throughout the 19th century

Arthur was still the most-used model; however, a wider variety of models exist than in the previous year, including Jack, Atlas, Marianne, Anna, and Amelia

+ + + + + +

That's all the images Tumblr will allow in one post, and that's about all I have energy to calculate.

However, something that isn't quantifiable is how grateful I am for the support of my followers, mutuals, Patreon (free + paid) members, those who reply/comment and those who just lurk, those who download and post pictures of my CC and those who quietly enjoy it on their own time, and all.

I wouldn't be here on this hellsite, or in this community, without you all existing here to. The Simblr community does a lot of complaining--I've done my fair share of it, I know this, I am an emotional, petty person at times and I am trying to... well, do that less-- and we've also done a shitton of creating, sharing, all for these weird little pixel dolls and worlds. I can absolutely say that this and the Tumblr RP community are the only communities that have really come through in terms of longevity and liveliness in the last 10+ years. I'm still here because of all the damn good things, like the above, and the support people show for each other here. It's really unlike anything else online.

I just want to say... thank you, to everyone. May this year be softer and kinder than the next. May we find the strength to build a better world from the ashes of the previous, in defiance of the fires that continue to take so much away. May we find the faith to envision a better world, and the courage to live.

Thank you again, for all your support, kindness, and for being here in this community.

Happy New Year. x

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monochromaticbeans · 17 days ago

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☁️Cruising Altitude

Bonten's corporate pilot, Kobayashi Tomoe, uses her professionalism and unshakable demeanor as a shield, keeping everyone at arm's length. Her flight skills and her willingness to turn a blind eye to the brutality of Bonten make her a valuable asset. But, Kokonoi Hajime catches glimpses of the person behind the enigma that is Tomoe and discovers there is much more to her than the detached, polished persona she presents. Will they let their guards down and allow themselves to form a connection in a world where trust is a rare, and sometimes dangerous, commodity?

Chapter 1:

The cabin of the private jet thrummed with the steady whine of the engines, a sound both constant and soothing—a stark contrast to the storm of Bonten’s daily operations. Kokonoi Hajime leaned back in his seat, legs crossed, enveloped in the clean scent of polished leather. Beyond the window, endless clouds stretched like a pristine canvas, untainted by the turbulence of the world below.

In the cockpit, Kobayashi Tomoe sat framed by the glow of the avionics display screens. Her hands moved with expert precision, toggling switches and murmuring into her headset. The sleek jet was designed for two pilots, though it was equally capable of single-pilot operation. Watching her, it was obvious she didn’t need assistance. Confidence radiated from every gesture.

Koko’s gaze lingered on her silhouette through the open cockpit door. He’d done his research, as always. When Mikey had approved her as Bonten’s new pilot, Koko hadn’t trusted paperwork and contracts alone. Background checks, financial records, whispers in shadows—he’d unearthed everything. It all painted a picture of a woman with precision etched into her very being.

She’d been exceptional. Beyond reproach. Until the scandal.

That detail had immediately piqued his interest. An accusation of misconduct—unsubstantiated, but loud enough to ruin her. The whispers claimed she’d traded certain sorts of favors for promotion. Koko had heard the same script too often to buy it wholesale. The politics of corporate aviation were no different from those in finance or crime, it seemed. Fragile egos and backdoor vendettas were standard fare.

It was easy to trace the name of her accuser: Ishida Riku. An unimpressive pilot whose only true talent is manipulation. Koko hadn’t needed much imagination to reconstruct the scene: Ishida, bitter at being passed over, used Tomoe’s ambition and gender as a weapon. The company’s decision to cut her loose was less about justice and more about keeping up appearances.

And it hadn’t taken long for Ishida to land Tomoe's former chief pilot position and for her career to spiral. No corporation or airline, domestic or international, would touch her. That part probably stung the most—doors slamming shut, one after the other, until only one remained.

Bonten.

Koko glanced back at Tomoe, now adjusting the autopilot with a serene expression, her focus unbroken. She didn’t look like someone desperate enough to take Bonten’s offer out of necessity. Her composure told a different story—one of a woman who had buried her emotions where no one could reach them.

It intrigued him.

He reached for a crystal tumbler on the table beside him, the soft clink of ice breaking the quiet. The details of her past were irrelevant, of course. She did her job with meticulous efficiency, and that was all that mattered. But still...

“Everything all right up there?” His voice carried easily through the cabin, breaking the silence.

“Smooth skies, Kokonoi-sama. We’ll be landing ahead of schedule.”

Her reply was calm, even soothing, free of hesitation. Koko swirled the water in his glass, his gaze resting on her silhouette. There was a steadiness about her that he rarely encountered—an ability to remain unaffected by Bonten’s imposing presence. Whether it was genuine composure or sheer practicality, he couldn’t decide.

“Good,” he said, his tone measured. “Efficiency is important.”

She didn’t respond, her attention already back on the controls. The soft reflection of instrument lights highlighted her sharp features, and for a fleeting moment, Koko wondered if she ever truly relaxed—or if, like him, she was always calculating, always in motion beneath the surface, always playing a part.

The silence stretched on, heavy but not uncomfortable. Yet curiosity gnawed at him, persistent and unbidden. He wasn’t one for idle conversation, but her presence challenged his usual restraint.

“Did you always want to fly?”

The question surprised even him, though he kept his expression neutral, as if the inquiry were incidental.

Tomoe turned slightly, just enough for her gaze to meet his. “Since I was a child,” she said after a pause. “I liked the idea of being above it all. Clear skies, open horizons—it seemed peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” he echoed, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “And yet here you are.”

Her hands stilled briefly, her fingers just grazing the controls. For a moment, Koko thought she might deflect the comment, but her answer came steady and unshaken.

“It’s still peaceful up here,” she replied. “No matter who’s in the passenger seat.”

His smirk deepened. Clever. She had a way of sidestepping without appearing evasive, of answering without truly answering. He appreciated that.

“Touché,” he murmured.

Her focus returned to the instruments, and Koko let the silence reclaim the cabin. Most people around him floundered for his approval, their efforts obvious and exhausting. But Tomoe seemed content to remain an enigma. It made her all the more intriguing.

He set his glass down, the soft clink of ice against crystal punctuating the quiet. “You don’t strike me as someone who questions orders, Kobayashi.”

Her pause stretched just long enough in her deliberation. When she spoke, her voice was steady, almost maddeningly composed. “I follow orders when they make sense. And when they don’t, I still follow them... if necessary.”

A low chuckle escaped him, quiet and contained. It was more for his own amusement than hers. “Practical,” he said, the word a slow drawl. “I like that.”

He didn’t miss the way her shoulders stiffened just slightly, the only tell in her otherwise impeccable exterior. It wasn’t fear—it was control. She was trying to gauge him, the way a bird might watch a cat from the corner of her eye.

“Kokonoi-sama,” she said, her tone shifting as she redirected the conversation. “We’re approaching our descent. I’ll need to focus.”

“Of course.” He leaned back, his smile faint and amused as he observed her.

Tomoe’s hands moved deftly over the controls, easing the throttles back as the jet began its smooth descent. Koko allowed his eyes to drift closed, the soft hum of the engines and the supple leather beneath him lulling him into a rare moment of relaxation. There was no doubt in his mind she would land them flawlessly. Her skill had never been a question.

And yet, his thoughts lingered on her. On her precise deflections, the calm veneer that betrayed nothing. What would it take, he wondered, to breach that exterior? To see beyond the carefully curated surface and glimpse the person beneath?

The jet touched down smoothly on the private airstrip, its wheels kissing the tarmac so gently it was almost imperceptible. Tomoe guided the aircraft along the runway, the fuselage gleaming in the fading light of dusk. By the time the plane rolled to a stop near a discreet hangar, Koko was already collecting his belongings.

She emerged from the cockpit as he expected—composed, her movements as crisp and efficient as they had been in flight.

“Impressive landing, as always,” he remarked, his tone smooth and devoid of unnecessary praise.

“Thank you, Kokonoi-sama,” she replied with a slight inclination of her head.

Tomoe paused by the cabin door, glancing at her watch before pressing the mechanism to lower the stairs. The hiss of hydraulics filled the cabin as the stairway descended, allowing the cool evening air to rush in. It carried with it the mingled scents of pine and jet fuel, the turbines behind them clicking softly as they spooled down.

As she stepped aside to let him disembark first, Koko’s movements stilled. “I assume your accommodations are arranged?”

She nodded, her reply as efficient as her actions. “I’ll be staying at the staff lodging nearby. Everything is set.”

He regarded her for a moment, his sharp gaze searching. Most newcomers in Bonten’s orbit didn’t argue over meager arrangements, too wary of appearing ungrateful. Yet Tomoe’s demeanor wasn’t one of reluctant acceptance. She wasn’t settling—she was choosing.

“Staff lodging,” he repeated, his smirk subtle but unmistakable. “How modest of you.”

“It’s practical,” she replied evenly, her tone unyielding.

“Practical,” he echoed, as though testing the flavor of the word. Amusement flickered in his expression, but he let the comment hang, unchallenged.

Before she could respond, the low rumble of engines reached them. A pair of black SUVs emerged from the tree-lined perimeter, their headlights cutting through the deepening dusk. The vehicles rolled to a stop just short of the jet, their sleek frames a stark reminder of the world she inhabited.

Tomoe’s posture tightened, though her expression betrayed nothing. The men who exited the SUVs moved with quiet precision, their dark suits and coordinated steps marking them as Bonten operatives. Her gaze remained neutral, but the unspoken tension in her frame told Koko she was keenly aware of the hierarchy they represented.

One of the men approached, bowing slightly as he addressed Koko in a low voice. “Kokonoi-sama, everything is ready. Shall we proceed?”

Koko handed off his briefcase with a nod. “I’ll join you shortly.”

The man retreated, leaving him alone with Tomoe once more.

“You’ll be on standby until further notice,” he said, his tone brisk but laced with finality. “Stay available.”

“Of course, Kokonoi-sama,” she replied, her voice as measured as ever.

As Koko descended the stairs, he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. His sharp eyes caught hers, his gaze lingering just long enough to draw her full attention. “You’ve done well today.”

The unexpected compliment made her blink, though she recovered quickly, her face an unflappable mask. “Thank you, Kokonoi-sama.”

A flicker of something unreadable passed across his face before he turned away, his steps carrying him to the waiting SUV.

Tomoe stood at the cabin doorway, the cool air brushing her face as the convoy pulled away into the shadows. She remained there, her gaze fixed on the darkened road ahead. There had been an edge to his parting words—an acknowledgment that trust in Bonten was never given lightly, and never without consequence.

She exhaled slowly, retreating into the jet to begin her post-flight routine. Her professionalism would carry her through this life, no matter how demanding it became.

And yet, as she worked, a thought lingered in the back of her mind: Kokonoi Hajime was not as inscrutable as he wanted her to believe.

***

The calm Tomoe had felt in the cockpit was long gone. She stood near the edge of the hangar, the harsh glare of fluorescent lights throwing jagged shadows across the concrete. Outside, the cold night stretched in silence, broken only by the distant hum of traffic.

The black SUVs from earlier loomed nearby, their presence a quiet reminder of who she worked for. Inside one of them, a man slumped against the leather seat, blood staining the collar of his shirt. Two of Bonten’s men flanked him, their faces unreadable, like they were carved in stone.

Tomoe’s jaw tightened as her gaze shifted away from the scene unfolding a few meters away.

Kokonoi stood off to her left, his phone in hand, typing with graceful efficiency. His other hand rested in his pocket, his posture casual, as though this were no more than another item on his endless to-do list.

Nearby, Sanzu Haruchiyo crouched in front of a man kneeling on the concrete, his grin sharp and wicked in the flickering light. A cigarette dangled lazily between his fingers, the ember at the end glowing in the dark. The kneeling man trembled, his breath coming in ragged gasps as blood dripped from a split lip.

“This one doesn’t listen very well,” Sanzu said, mockery curling through his voice. He exhaled a plume of smoke, the air thick with the acrid scent. “Thought he could skim off the top and walk away clean.”

The man whimpered, his shaking hands pressed flat against the ground, as if hoping it would open and swallow him whole.

The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the traces of jet fuel. It clung to Tomoe’s senses, ghostly and inescapable. She kept her gaze fixed on the jet, forcing herself to focus on its sleek outline, the shape of its landing gear—anything but the chaos behind her.

The muffled sounds of pleading and excuses scraped at the edges of her composure, but she didn’t turn around. She knew better.

Behind her, Kokonoi and Sanzu stood as contrasting pillars of power—one cold and clinical, the other wild and volatile. The kneeling man’s voice cracked with desperation, his words tumbling over themselves in frantic apologies. None of it mattered. The script was already written.

A faint prickle crawled up Tomoe’s spine, the sense of unease she’d learned to bury. This wasn’t the first time she’d brushed up against Bonten’s brutality, but witnessing it so openly was a different weight to carry.

Her fingers curled into fists, hidden in the pockets of her jacket. Her face remained a stoic mask of neutrality, her posture steady. The smallest crack could invite questions she couldn’t afford to answer.

“Don’t worry, Kobayashi-chan,” Sanzu drawled, his voice cutting through the night like a blade. “We’re not expecting you to get your hands dirty. Not yet, anyway.”

Tomoe’s gaze didn’t waver from the jet. Her expression stayed blank, impenetrable. She refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“That’s enough, Sanzu,” Kokonoi said, his tone cool but firm, a quiet authority that ended the moment.

Sanzu clicked his tongue in mock disappointment but didn’t press further. The grinding of his shoe extinguishing the cigarette echoed faintly before he stepped away. Around them, the low murmurs of Kokonoi’s men resumed, indifferent to the tension lingering in the air.

Tomoe inhaled slowly through her nose, forcing her heartbeat into an even rhythm.

“You can go, Kobayashi,” Kokonoi said, his voice cutting clean through the noise. It was smooth, almost dismissive, but she caught the faint edge beneath it. “This doesn’t concern you.”

She hesitated—just for a breath. Turning away would protect the detachment she’d worked so hard to cultivate, but the weight of leaving it all behind pressed down on her.

Still, she’d made her choice long before this moment.

“Understood, Kokonoi-sama,” she said evenly.

Her steps were deliberate as she walked toward the hangar, each one heavier than the last. She kept her back straight, her composure intact, even as the faint sounds of muffled cries lingered behind her. Her professionalism was her armor, and it couldn’t crack now. Not here.

Inside the hangar, the chill of the metal wall seeped through her jacket as she leaned back against it, finally allowing herself to exhale. Her hands were steady—a little too steady. The image of the kneeling man flashed in her mind: the blood streaking his face, his trembling shoulders.

It wasn’t her business. She’d told herself that from the moment she signed on with Bonten. And yet...

Footsteps approached, sharp and precise, breaking her thoughts. She straightened instinctively as Kokonoi appeared in the doorway. His face was unreadable, his sharp gaze sweeping over her like an inventory check.

“You handled that well,” he said, his voice silk-smooth but carrying a faint undercurrent she couldn’t quite place.

“I’m just here to do my job, Kokonoi-sama,” she replied, her tone measured, unwavering.

“And yet,” he said, his gaze narrowing slightly, “most people in your position would have made the mistake of looking.”

Her stomach twisted, but she didn’t flinch. “Looking wouldn’t have changed anything.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Pragmatic as always.”

He shifted, leaning against the doorway, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “You’re an interesting one, Kobayashi.”

“Should I be concerned?” she asked, letting the slightest trace of dry humor slip into her voice.

“Not unless you give me a reason to be,” he replied, his smirk deepening.

The silence that followed was heavy but not altogether uncomfortable, an unspoken understanding hanging between them. Kokonoi didn’t linger. He turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the night.

Tomoe remained still, her grip on her professionalism unwavering. She’d chosen this life, and she would endure whatever it demanded. She had no other option.

Yet as she stared at the empty doorway, she couldn’t shake the lingering weight of Kokonoi’s scrutiny. It wasn’t just Bonten’s violence she would have to withstand—it was the constant, unrelenting gaze of men like him.

➡️Chapter 2 🛫

#tokyo revengers #bonten #kokonoi hajime #bonten kokonoi #sanzu haruchiyo #bonten sanzu #tokyo revengers koko #fanfiction #fanfic #tokyo revengers fanfic

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kingofcards · 27 days ago

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Seifer hates the Trepies.

He doesn't care if people hang up pictures of Quistis from magazines and newspaper interviews, or frame her TT card.

What he does care about is shit like this, where she's penned in by a bunch of her little fanclub members, who are both dumb as rocks, and lack any skill at flirting to begin with.

If you're gonna hit on someone like Quistis Trepe, you'd better have the ability to follow through.

She's very patient. (She puts up with too much shit, in his opinion; Quis ought to just laser eye the whole lot of them.)

He can't endure watching this anymore.

"You want me to toss 'em over the balcony?" he inquires, coming up on the small herd near-silently, relishing in the shrieks of surprise from at least half the group. "Or just wholesale murder them?"

-reveromantique

@reveromantique | You'd Murder for Me? |

Quistis can't help the snort as half the group around her shrieks. She rolls her eyes, unsure if it's at them or at Seifer. "If it's wholesale murder, would I have to pay you?"

She's in a mood today, sue her. The balcony isn't good enough for half the pickup lines she just endured, it needs to be worse. She can't ACTUALLY condone murder, but perhaps her thinking about it will make them all reconsider. Or, they could be like Seifer, and think it's a turn-on, who knows?

#reveromantique #You'd Murder for Me?#FF8 #RP #Instructor #Quistis Trepe #Seifer Almasy #(Man... I shoulda been going through these before. So many golden opportunities. lol)

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darsynia · 1 year ago

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I guess I'm nuts enough to tell you that I've spent quite a while looking to confirm that the freckle on Tony Stark's wrist in Captain America: Civil War is computer-created as an 'anchor' for his watch gauntlet thing. I have finally found a clear picture of RDJ's right wrist that proves it*, after spending some time here and there over the course of 10 months looking for one.

Is it deranged of me? Yeah... but this freckle moves, as you see here. I think it's a clever choice, because it's not like anyone watching the movie will know any different!

*I'll put the pics under the cut!

He wore his watch on the other wrist for his concrete hand imprint:

Zoomed in, there's a bit of a darker spot, but nowhere near as visible as in the movie. Maybe they enhanced it for CGI (instead of wholesale adding one, I mean)?

I found a couple of freeze frames from the gif, the freckle moves! Don't judge meee

The distance from the watch is the same in each pic, but the watch is higher up on the left.

Thank you for coming to my Bob Talk!

#i have a right wrist freckle that's just a bit smaller so this sparked my interest!#rdj has my whole heart #tony stark has my whole heart #darsy twirls her obsessions #captain america civil war #apparently the watch is 500k and that's why there's a pic of it because the article writer was freaking out lol

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beardedmrbean · 2 years ago

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Prompted by the release of information about thousands of Los Angeles police officers that activists posted to a public online database, City Atty. Hydee Feldstein Soto is trying to convince California lawmakers to weaken the state’s public records law.

While Feldstein Soto describes her proposal as a minor tweak to the California Public Records Act, civil rights advocates say it would severely diminish the power of the bedrock state law that allows access to information held by local governments and state agencies.

“That proposal would completely gut the Public Records Act,” Melanie Ochoa, an attorney who is the director of police practices for the American Civil Liberties Union of Southern California, said after reviewing a copy obtained by The Times.

“There would be really no transparency element of the PRA anymore if that were to become law.”

The city attorney’s effort amounts to the latest volley in an ongoing tussle between city officials and community activists who have used the public records law to obtain information they see as helpful in holding police accountable for misconduct.

Feldstein Soto’s proposal — contained in a two-page document she has asked several state lawmakers to introduce as a bill — would allow government agencies to decline public records requests that seek “images or data that may personally identify an individual” whose information the agency collects, such as its employees.

California's public records law already exempts from disclosure the home addresses and phone numbers of public employees as well as other information that could "constitute an unwarranted invasion of personal privacy." So the change the city attorney is seeking could block the public from identifying government workers in their professional capacities.

While she framed her proposal as a necessity to protect a range of public-sector workers who could be subject to harassment — including sanitation employees who dismantle homeless encampments and public health workers who promote vaccinations — Feldstein Soto acknowledged that it was inspired by the public records request that led to the release this year of pictures and data of more than 9,300 L.A. police officers.

“I'm trying to address the wholesale doxxing of people that we need to depend on to do the business of government, without any reason other than the position that they happen to hold,” Feldstein Soto said.

“Having a tool in the toolbox of activists that is not aimed necessarily at the policy of the government, but aimed at intimidating the individuals who are carrying out the policy seems to me to be something where we could all come together to try to protect working people.”

Feldstein Soto traveled to Sacramento last month and said she met with two dozen lawmakers about her proposal. So far none have agreed to put it into a bill, but Feldstein Soto remains hopeful. Even though several lawmakers were skeptical of the idea, she said many more were “affirmatively enthusiastic and supportive.”

Lawmakers in Sacramento are halfway through the 2023 legislative session, which makes passing a newly introduced bill a big political lift. Legislation introduced at this point would go through an abbreviated review process, giving lawmakers less time to scrutinize the proposal and allowing limited public input.

Assembly Speaker Anthony Rendon (D-Lakewood) met with Feldstein Soto about her desire to change the public records law and “is sympathetic to the issue,” said Rendon spokesman John Casey. Rendon asked his staff to look for a way to get her proposal into a bill, Casey said, but so far that has not happened in the Assembly. In the state Senate, a spokesperson for Senate leader Toni Atkins (D-San Diego) said her staff met with Feldstein Soto about the proposal but that Atkins is not considering putting it in legislation.

In addition to allowing local governments to withhold photos and identifying information about their employees from the public, the bill Feldstein Soto drafted also would allow local governments to block the release of information that identifies people experiencing homelessness or receiving government benefits, as well as information on services provided to them. She said she’s aiming to shield people who are moved into housing or shelter from being sought out by pimps and drug dealers.

It would be "a discretionary exemption for purposes of basically preserving the safety of the folks,” she said. “We [could] redact the information that would allow somebody to target them.”

But it’s requests for information about L.A. police officers that have sparked the biggest dust-up over the power of the Public Records Act.

In March, a group called the Stop LAPD Spying Coalition launched a searchable online database with the names, photos, ethnicity, rank, date of hire, division/bureau and badge numbers of more than 9,300 officers, including a few hundred who work undercover or in other sensitive positions. The group encourages community members “to observe and document police abuses, especially arrests and other violence,” according to its website, and publishes a guide for activists on how to use public records laws to advance the goal of abolishing police.

Leaders of the Stop LAPD Spying Coalition previously told The Times that the information they published was obtained from the Los Angeles Police Department through a public records request. City officials say the undercover officers were inadvertently included in the response and are investigating how it happened.

In an attempt to claw back the photos of the undercover officers, the city sued the Knock LA journalist who filed the public records request and the Stop LAPD Spying Coalition. Last month, a Los Angeles judge rejected the city’s controversial request that he order the journalist to return a flash drive of police officers’ photographs.

Tom Saggau, a spokesman for the Los Angeles Police Protective League, said since the database went up several officers have faced threats and have reported them to the department, but he declined to provide details.

When Feldstein Soto approached the officers union about her idea to narrow the Public Records Act, Saggau said, “we conveyed to the city attorney that if a bill was introduced that prevented these types of doxxing disclosures that there was a high likelihood we would support it.”

The president of the union that represents Los Angeles social workers said that although it does not yet have a formal position on Feldstein Soto’s proposal, it sounds appealing as a potential tool to protect employees. Social workers who intervene when families are in crisis have faced threats of death and harm to their families, and had confidential information about themselves posted on social media, said David Green, president of SEIU Local 721.

“It's an accident waiting to happen,” he said. “I'm a firm believer in transparency and accountability, but at the same time, I've had to represent workers ... [whose] health and safety and their life, sometimes, is really threatened by the people we serve, unfortunately.”

But civil rights attorneys refuted the notion that the public records law puts government employees in harm’s way. It does not allow disclosure of personal information, such as home addresses or family information, said Ochoa, the ACLU attorney — only work-related information.

“The courts have recognized that knowledge of who is working in the public and for the public is something the public has a right to know,” she said.

Ochoa pointed to the public records law as a critical tool in efforts to improve police practices and hold law enforcement agencies accountable because it can be used to identify specific officers. Without that power, she said, it would have been impossible to advocate for other transparency laws California passed in recent years to require more disclosure of internal records on police shootings and to create a system for decertifying officers for serious misconduct.

“That would not have been possible if we weren't made aware that the same officer that killed someone had gone to another agency and killed someone else,” Ochoa said.

“We would oppose any attempt to gut the PRA in this way.”

#nunyas news #trying to make it harder to dox cops and such then #hmmmmm

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rametarin · 1 year ago

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It's surreal to imagine this, honestly.

Think back to your favorite animated movies, growing up. The big picture ones. The ones that required entire studios worth of animators and artists in order to bring a vision to fruition and meet a deadline.

The big Disney pictures. The big Don Bluth pictures. The Studio Ghibli pictures. Any full feature length animated film. 60 minute runtime stories.

And to a lesser extent, the Ralph Bakshi pieces.

Part of what made them so amazing and enchanting was the higher quality ones were just such byproducts of necessitating people to function together in order to do it. The writers and editors seemed like visionaries. The animators, demiurges. The quality, impossible for a single person to ever achieve on their own. The length, absolutely incredible for the number of frames required.

From the 20s to the 2010s, these animated pictures were only possible because of an organization and hierarchy and lots of people to labor to a plan. It would be impossible during a human lifetime for any one person to complete an animated picture to that degree of quality.

.. And then the digital revolution arrived. And one person that knows what they're doing could theoretically produce a labor of love the equal of any art slave studio across Japan or Korea that took hundreds of people for in-betweens. Drastically reducing the workload and bringing finished product closer to the hands of the individual person.

And similarly, meaning that smaller studios on smaller budgets could produce things the equal of animated films from the 40s, 50s and 60s, on Newgrounds' budgets and with amateur talent.

Pay the bigwigs that own Hollywood for distribution across cinemas? Why? You could just distribute on the internet and use a medium for people to pay to stream it.

This makes it possible for people to not just draw comics, but tell their own stories. And if they're willing to compromise on quality, even use voice synthesizers and AI to generate wholly fictional voices for the characters. So a single person could wholesale just, animate whatever story that they wanted, without having to pay a single million dollars to a studio.

Whereas before, such a labor required impossible resources and equipment.

It has never been a better time to aspire to animate for fun. For business and profit? Well...

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tomframes · 3 months ago

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Wooden Creative U-Shaped Acrylic Frame

#Wholesale picture frames #high quality picture frames #picture frames manufacturers

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beanofjudgement · 1 year ago

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Are you able to create concepts?

I am, yes. And I believe I know the direction this may be going, because I can also make it a reality should I will it to be so.

It's a way of framing a desire into a concrete form. Arguably, a more muted form of that is something I gifted Jirachi with. They are capable of summoning anything they can picture to themself... provided it is something that has already been conceived by another. I am the one capable of creating a concept "wholesale", if I'm using the term right.

#Anonymous #pokemon roleplay #pokemon rp #pokemon irl #rotomblr #rotumblr #rosy ramblings

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atotaltaitaitale · 1 year ago

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For some reason I kept coming across markets this time around.

First set of pictures are from Borough Market. Borough Market is a wholesale and retail market hall in Southwark, London, England. It is one of the largest and oldest food markets in London, with a market on the site dating back to at least the 12th century. The present buildings were built in the 1850s, and today the market mainly sells specialty foods to the general public.

The following picture is from Neal’s Yard. A cute courtyard I stumbled upon on my way to Seven Dials Market from Covent Gardens.

The last set of photos are from Seven Dials Market. The market take its name from the Seven streets that converge at the roughly circular central roundabout, at the centre of which is a column bearing six sundials – with the column itself acting as the seventh sundial. The seven dials that serve as the foundation for this center represent the last remaining relics of the once-vibrant medieval textile industry. The Site of the market once housed bananas. Whole palette loads were picked green, shipped over from Central America and then stacked floor to ceiling to be ripened under this steel-framed glass roof. The first commercial refrigerated shipment of bananas arrived in Britain in 1902 and were an astonishing proposition for the Brits, who up until this point knew only of apples, pears and other homegrown fruit.

#CelineIsNotAnExpatAnymore #London #farmers market #c&jLondon3

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delighted-mirage · 1 year ago

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modern homes. lavish suburban mansions (the designers made sure only every third house in the neighborhood has the same design, so it doesn’t look as monotonous) decked out with bright green plants (almost too shiny, and does take a toll on your water bill, but it’s worth it to get that picture perfect lawn) and freshly trimmed grass (it’s a little dry brown). admire the paint job on the outside (a soft light inviting modern calming grabluyellowhibeige. it almost hurts your eyes).

look how cute that little decoration is! (found them at a buy one get one fifty percent off plus a free extra set that’s kind of worthless but kitschy sale! it was mass produced in a mass market made by the masses and adored by the masses. vaguely familiar to the ones you saw down the street right? or just deja vu).

stroll on inside past the doorbell (it knows your face. it knows your body. it knows you’re here.) and quiet fluffy! you’re going to scare the guests. sorry, he’s not great around strangers. bye fluffy! (what did that dog look like again?)

notice the hardwood floors. (what beats beneath them?). you can always change the color (it feels cold.) or even the type of wood (is there anything here?). we opted for hardwood just because it’s so versatile you know? (imagine it cracking beneath your hands. a void. inky blackness of lifeless dirt. is there a point to cracking it open in the first place?)

what are you looking at the ground so much for? (what.) come on. I’ll show you the living room. (just keep walking. and try not to notice the picture frames staring at you. the pictures are fine. but the frames. the same frames. they hang there. always the same. the pictures don’t even matter if it’s the same frame. think of the distant funeral when that one relative you’re supposed to have known died and it’s those exact same frames. staring back at you.)

sorry it’s so messy! we weren’t expecting company (everything is spotless. every piece in place. the laid jacket on the couch. the small toy hiding just shy of the table. the children staring at the glow. the blue light glow. it’s enthralling. they aren’t moving. why aren’t they moving-) kids! come say hi! (they still aren’t moving. why aren’t they-) look up and say hi already! (why why why aren’t they moving why can’t they move they’re frozen they can’t move who put them there) haha kids these days. I did tell them they could have their one hour of screen time now, so I guess it’s fine. they can say hi to you later. I want to show you the new counters we got in the kitchen! (moving on so quickly. problems wiped away and ignored like the aroma of death coming from the kitchen)

the best part is I don’t have to change the cleaner I use! it makes the place smell so fresh doesn’t it? (death is in that cleaner. but it smells good. doesn’t it?) do you want something? something to eat or drink? (starvation claws in you)

I just got these new snacks from the new wholesale-market-sale-middle-class-nice-store, you know the one on main? here try one! (plastic) and these drinks too! (plastic) what? are you suddenly not hungry? (you’ve been hungry since you got here. eat the plastic.) mmph so good! no sugar either! (taste the plastic in your mouth. it has a sweetness. barely sweetness. plastic sweetness. plastic taste. plastic.)

I haven’t even shown you the upstairs yet. let’s go. (are you willing to find out who this person is?) careful, watch your step. it can get a little slippery! (must be waxed. waxy slippery preservative floors. it must keep it fresh. forever.)

so down the hall we have the kids’ room (it looks like what kids are supposed to like.),

the loft (sunlight streams in through the window. bleak burning sunlight fills the wide expanse of a room. it almost makes you overlook the fact that there’s nothing in it.),

the bathroom (clean white brightness. impeccable. spotless. no sign of impurity. like a tooth. like their teeth. perfect.),

and here’s our bedroom! (you are in the maw of the beast. the inviting tongue of its bed wants you to lay down in it. envelope you into its own. make you as wonderful as it is. compact you and consume your life. it needs your life. to fill it and make the thing made to be filled not loved whole. crush you between its teeth and swallow you whole. your existence of a life needs to be consumed, it says, it wants you to join it. willingly. it can offer paradise. it says it is beautiful. it is beyond imagining. stop imagining. you are in a utopia already. it is perfect. become perfect inside of it. you will be perfect.)

(you do not believe it and walk away.)

going so soon? alright! see you later! I’m sure you’ll be back again!

"unalive" should just mean the opposite of undead. if undead means a dead thing thats alive, unalive shuld mean an alive things thats dead. no i dont have any examples. ☝️yet

#kind of a tangent I guess SJJSJS #the ever creeping dread of suburban lifestyles #this originally just to point out how dead and lifeless those houses are #like built to be full but not Alive yk?#that and corporate offices #it’s bizarre to me how humans just make these places and it is just accepted to drain the humanity from them #represents the human desire to be perfect without acknowledging how soul crushing it is to achieve that #I could go off on other tangents but this was pretty cool ! imp #imo #creative writing #suburbia #dark suburbia #didn’t know that was a tag that seems fun

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