A quick update on the vk situation.
I’ve gotten several messages that have stated that those are fan pages, that they source and they don’t mean harm, so I shouldn’t be upset about it.
I do understand this. I understand that it’s nice to be able to share stuff you like in a space you feel comfortable in and can speak with others in your own language, and Tumblr isn’t always the best place for that. I also understand that the artist’s desire to control the spread of our content is something that is not always understood, not just in other countries or languages, but by many English-speaking people as well.
It is common to hear “they did it because they love your art, so why are you being so stupid and ungrateful about it?”
This mentality is fundamentally flawed. If you love the work, if you would consider yourself a fan of the work, then you don’t have to love the artist as a person, but you do need to respect them. Even if the artist had the most crazy demands when it came to their works, if you really loved the work, wouldn’t you have some respect for the person who creates the art you love?
Many artists, particularly fanartists, request that their work not be reposted to other sites. This is because we have the right to control how our work is viewed. When you remove the work from the place where we put it, even with a link back or a credit line, you remove us from the work. You remove us from involvement with the viewing of the work.
Artists have a myriad of reasons for not wanting their work shared in this way. Some are embarrassed of what they draw and don’t want to share it with large numbers of people. Some are living in situations where what they draw could lead to hostility, threats to their livelihoods and friendships. Some use what they draw to make money, and need to be able to control their content to monetize it. Some may not be well known, and would like to simply gain popularity, and can’t do that if their work spreads uncredited. Some, like me, don’t like to see their work removed from them over and over again to the point where someone finds it on google with no source and assumes it’s basically free to use. And then uses it on products. Or in their own designs. Or prints it out and gives it to a celebrity.
Also in my case, some fanartists don’t want their art to be viewed by the actors or writers of the show it’s based on. This is very common with slashers and people who draw NSFW art. We create these artworks for ourselves and people who share our tastes, and we respect the creators and don’t want them to see content they don’t want to see. Removing it from our blogs and posting it somewhere else gives search engines another source to pull from and will eventually put that art in front of someone we don’t want to see it, and the artist has no control of that because someone else took that decision away.
If your next question is, “Well then why create it at all?” then you’re not really a fan of the work and this post is not for you. This post assumes you like the work and if you like the work, then you understand why people feel driven to create it. The same reasons you are driven to find it and feel compelled to share it.
Coming back around to the vk situation. I’ve been in situations before where someone used my name on a blog, and proceeded to repost all of my content; they were impersonating me, pretending to be posting to a second blog. If people fell for it, that person could say anything they wanted, and someone might believe it was me who said it. I don’t feel like I have to describe why this is a bad thing.
When I found the vk page, since I don’t read Russian, this was what appeared to be happening. I’m glad it turned out not to be the case, but I hope this explains why I expressed particular distaste for that blog.
Again, I understand the desire to be able to share in your own space. But I’m still not comfortable allowing it; it still has a lot of negative consequences for me, and I’d really like people to understand why I find it detrimental and even disrespectful. And I still really dislike the attitude that it is wrong of me to take issue with it or request that people don’t repost my content. Basically, it’s within every artists’ rights to request their content not be reposted; that’s not debatable, that’s a fact.
There have been a few cases where I was approached respectfully by someone who wanted to share my work on a foreign site. Generally, these are translators who want to share my comics. I allow it in those cases, because they asked respectfully, and because for some people, there is no other way they could have enjoyed those works. In cases where most of the work is just reposts of images, I don’t see the need for it, and I don’t allow it. And in cases where permission was never given, I especially don’t allow it.
It does upset me that it can hurt their fandom, that many of them are just people who like my art. I want to say, “if you like my art, why not follow my actual blog instead of a copy?” but I know why that is not feasible for everyone. Perhaps the site is difficult to navigate if you don’t speak english, perhaps it’s blocked in your country, etc. And I don’t really want to alienate an entire subsection of the fandom over something like this. So I’m really torn on the whole situation.
But in the end, I feel like this is what I have to do. I’m not about to go on some rampage on vk to get all of my work deleted, for the same reason I can’t go after every single facebook and rebloggy and pinterest that takes my work, because I don’t have the time for that. I know it’s going to keep happening and I know anything I do to stop it will not be enough. But I still want it to be known that I disapprove of it, and for people to understand why, so that maybe eventually, all fans will respect each other enough so that it doesn’t happen anymore.
Sorry to bother everyone about this, but do any of you guys use vk.com? I don’t particularly want to sign up but I need to either contact or report this page that is reposting tons of my artwork: http://vk.com/reapersun and also this one which is reposting a lot of tumblr artists: http://vk.com/redpants
So if reporting is fairly simple and you have an account and can report these pages, or contact them and ask them to remove my work and not post it again, I would really appreciate it. Or if you have experience reporting and can send me any tips if I do have to sign up myself to do it.
For this month’s Let’s Draw Sherlock~ I drew my favorite game, Sword and Sworcery. And since the Scythian is such an amazing lady I couldn’t swap her gender so I swapped Sherlock and made it fem!lock although the Scythian is badass so I always draw her kind of buff so maybe you can’t tell lol
and also I made myself sad
if you’ve never played this game you’re missing out, beautiful and heartbreaking game with a spectacular soundtrack and gorgeous pixel art ughhhghnnghg
drunkonturpentine asked: Believe me, I'm not trying to nitpick your amazing, fantabulous art at ALL, but I was just wondering — is there a reason Sherlock isn't wearing his wedding ring in the last 30 Day OTP Challenge post? Not a sign of trouble for him and John, I hope? (I just noticed it in the frame of him, uh, grabbing his crotch…lol.) He's also in his pajamas so maybe he just took it off while changing…?
No, I just forgot; I don’t draw the rings early on since I flip it a lot while I’m working and end up mixing up the hands, so I usually do a last minute check for things that are meant to be on a certain side (like the rings, john’s scar, etc), but I was sleepy when I finished that one and forgot to do it~ I’m going to fix it now :P
(publishing this in case anyone else was wondering the same thing)
CLICK FOR NSFW, CHECK TAG WARNINGS
"You were made to serve my kind, John… Designed to fulfill my needs… You are damaged and sentient and free, and yet, your body still longs to accommodate me…"
pippyworks answered: John and Sherlock and tentacles.
the-villain-in-training answered: Tentacles!top!Sherlock with John?
(when I saw these tentacles prompts I couldn’t get this old thing out of my head so I did porn with it)
I worry about the things my brain does when I get bored.
I’m warning you right now, I don’t know what the fuck this is. Fluffy cannibalistic psychic Lovecraftian tentacle-shapeshift PWP smut? IT’S CUTE, GOD HELP ME. I’VE WRITTEN ADORABLE LOVECRAFT PORN.
The stars are bad tonight. It makes Sherlock jittery. He always insists it doesn’t bother him, but he’s not the one who has to put up with him being snappish and restless all over everybody.
It’s worse tonight than usual, which makes it a terrible night for a crime scene, but nobody got that memo out to the murderers.
They’ve been on site for five minutes, and already he’s got Lestrade’s team so on edge that John’s a little bit worried Donovan might finally figure out the trick to killing with her mind. He returns from a quick confab with Lestrade—playing courier pigeon for Sherlock—to find Sherlock hunched over the body’s thoracic cavity, reaching in for the heart.
John kicks him. ”Don’t you dare eat that!”
Sherlock pulls his hand back and glowers up at John. ”I wasn’t going to.”
Lies. John narrows his eyes. Sherlock makes a pinched, sarcastic little face back at him that proves nothing except that he’s a spoiled princess.
That’s another problem with a bad-star night. Sherlock gets snackish. Bored eating is a terrible habit he picked up from Mycroft. John can live with the moodiness, but coming up with places to put the hollowed-out skins does start to get tricky after a while.
It’s an interesting murder, though—highly ritualized, Sherlock says, and he would know—and after a few more minutes of stalking around the scene, John has just about decided Sherlock is entertained enough that it’s safe to relax.
That, of course, is when Anderson starts humming while he works.
It’s terrible. John has a musical ear—runs in his kind—and Anderson’s humming is off-key enough to set the dimensional walls grating against each other like badly seated tooth fillings. John has to remind himself that dissolving his head wouldn’t be neighbourly.
And then he glances back towards Sherlock. Who is looking decidedly blurry around the edges. ”Sherlock!”
It’s just a good thing they’re in a corner dark enough that to human eyes everything looks blurry. John pushes insistently against his shoulder in the direction of the door. Clearly it’s time to get Sherlock to someplace quiet where he can pull himself together. ”Come on, let’s get out of here before he lures in a byakhee looking for a mate.”
But by the time they’ve only gone a block, Sherlock is starting to look a bit…heavy, the fabric of space-time sagging beneath his density. Humans they pass eye him warily, picking up intuitively on his overabundance of realness. It’s a good thing they’re in London; in some places on this planet, reality might’ve crumpled out from under them by now.
"You’re not looking too hot," John tells him at the next street corner, and reaches out to brush a hand over the back of Sherlock’s neck. The tentacle that had been working loose of his silhouette sinks back into his form under John’s calming touch.
Sherlock doesn’t so much as acknowledge he’s spoken. John sighs and keeps trotting along at his side for another 40 yards or so, till Sherlock stops in the shadow of an alleyway and reaches a black-fingertipped hand out to John. ”Here.”
John peers into the mouth of the alley. ”Here?” He sighs when Sherlock waggles his fingers, and takes Sherlock’s hand to be led into the darkness. The black around his nails promptly fades back to flesh tone.
Of course Sherlock is right. He has a better grasp on the multi-dimensional geometry of space-time than John ever will. His kind are its masters, after all. John’s just a servitor race. He leads them at subtly off-kilter angles into the alley, and space unfolds spectacularly around them.
As the cramped dimensions of Earth blossom around them like an opening rose, John breathes easier for the first time in days. He picked this world as a hiding spot because it’s such a perfectly sheltered little cubby hole, but bloody hell it leaves him feeling claustrophobic. This little cul de sac Sherlock’s found for them may be nothing more than an enclosed courtyard, but at least John can see the real sky from here. He closes his eyes to enjoy the taste of the starlight.
He can feel Sherlock shifting next to him, unwinding, murmuring burbling liquid syllables to himself. He’s careful with them; their sounds only make the local reality shudder a little bit, softening into velvety moulded comfort around them. When John opens his eyes to look at him again, there’s little about Sherlock’s form a human would recognize anymore.
He reaches out to enfold John in his arms. John smiles up at him and raises a hand to his cheek. He’s so beautiful like this; all the deep iridescent colours of the ionized gasses filling the voids between stars, and eyes that blaze like Sirius.
"You need it?" John asks gently.
Sherlock nods, and twines more gleaming, interstellar limbs around him.
They knead across his skin, caress the old wound in his shoulder whose molecular structure he’s never been able to reshape properly, and tighten with intimate demand till John’s physical integrity begins to buckle deliciously beneath the pressure. He gasps in delight at the sting as the wriggling tips of Sherlock’s tendrils pierce his boundaries and push inside him.
John is a shapeshifter, born to a race that has no native form. He ripples with pleasure as Sherlock infiltrates him, his mass flowing and reshaping easily to accommodate. Sherlock is a rapture; he scintillates through John’s flesh, tiny gorgeous novae of sub-atomic collisions sparking wherever they come into contact till John can’t stay still through the sensation of it. He twists and writhes as Sherlock pours endlessly into him, flooding and blending into the shape of John’s body and mind until John feels through Sherlock’s flesh and knows through his mind.
John meets him with greedy, shameless need. Sherlock’s responding laugh crashes through them in a midnight black wave of sound and frothing joy.
John is so small, compared to Sherlock. Sherlock is immense, unspeakably immense, unspooling into shapes and colours, sounds and flavours and textures that John doesn’t even have words for. Through Sherlock, he can see so much more of the universe. It’s beautiful, dizzying, mind-bending, and he knows that by tomorrow the memory of it will fade to a dim echo of what he knows at this moment, but for now, Sherlock’s truth rips and shakes at him with a catastrophic, transcendent beauty.
Sherlock pauses when he’s penetrated John’s core, and simply breathes, the sensation of it reverberating in and around them. It feels so right to have him like this, like regaining a piece of himself he was missing. John is sentient, he has choice, but he can’t refute the fact that he was created for this, to serve Sherlock’s kind. Being able to have both—being able to choose to serve—the sweetness of it echoes through him.
Sherlock’s deeper-toned emotions ring through them both in counterpoint, his pleasure, possession, satisfaction. The tension that’s been riding him all night from the aggravating configurations of gravitational forces has all but melted away. Rooted deep into John’s core, he ripples the tendrils of himself through John’s soft shapeshifter’s essence and drinks from the soothing formlessness of it.
John shakes and sings with ecstasy. They might warp the local fabric of space-time around them. He doesn’t care.
A few blissful eternities later, time finally resumes when John feels Sherlock shift and begin to pull away. He comes back to himself bit by bit, their bodies and minds unwinding and separating from one another, and then they both shake themselves back into the containment of their human skins.
John stands in Sherlock’s arms for a little while longer, till Sherlock slides one hand down John’s arm to weave their fingers together and lead him back out of their private, starry little pocket.
“I told you the stars were bad tonight,” John says, leaning his head against Sherlock’s shoulder.
“Shut up.” But Sherlock slides an arm around John’s shoulders to keep him close.
“I told you they make you cranky,” John pushes, grinning.
“They do not.”
“Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.”
Sherlock looks down at him with a little smile. “Mmmm, no.”
Accidentally posted this to johnwantsit first. But I’d been meaning to write this little bit of WTF for some time now.
For you, Reaper. For no particular occasion, so far as I know. You bring us joy. We bring you WTF.
Oh my god. No seriously, this is… spectacular. Like, if I was better with words, this is exactly EXACTLY EXACTLY THE KIND OF AMAZING WORDS I WOULD PAIR WITH THESE PIECES but I am not a words person so I have to leave it at little snippets and drawings but dude really it’s like you read my mind and then made it sosososoosososos much bettter nnnghghghhghghgfjhg