#ChatGPT voice command

[manmishra]

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[thisisgraeme]

5 Steps to Design Your Amazing Personalised Education Program with ChatGPT

Explore how to use ChatGPT to design a personalized educational program that is interactive and engaging for learners of all ages.

How to Design Your Personalised Education Program Using ChatGPT In an era where technology seamlessly integrates into our daily lives, the potential for artificial intelligence (AI) to transform traditional educational methods is immense. ChatGPT, a sophisticated AI language model, stands at the forefront of this revolution, offering personalised learning experiences that cater to the unique…

[absentlyabbie]

my disability has gotten significantly worse over the past couple years. so much so, i find my command of language, my way with words, so much more... slippery than it's ever been.

i haven't written at all in over a year, because my chronic illness has me so exhausted all day every day i can't summon the energy for more than a tumblr post.

i miss writing so much. i miss writing so much. i'm trying so hard not to feel estranged from my identity as a writer, which has always meant so much to me. i would give much to be able to craft full paragraphs, pages, chapters, narratives again.

but you know what i wouldn't do?

put a half an idea or a bare-ass prompt into any generative ai, because that's not fucking writing.

if i posted the next chapter of my long-running fic and had to use chatgpt or any similar bullshit, i wouldn't be able to stomach presenting that to my readers, putting my name on it,

because i would still not have written a thing in over a year.

that's not writing. it's not even storytelling because YOU have to tell the goddamn story. you need assistance tools like voice-to-text? that's still you telling the story. generative ai is generating garbage and you're proudly stamping your name on it.

so if you're one of those people indignantly throwing around accusations of ableism when people criticize and disavow the usage of generative ai, you are spitting in my goddamn face, and in the face of every writer, every storyteller, who fits those titles into their identity alongside a disability.

if you want to be a writer or tell stories, use your words. use your words. or get your hands off that title, because you haven't fucking earned it.

[th3mrskory]

Terms & Conditions

Pairing: fem!Reader x Tony Stark

Warning: none.

Word count: 3k

A/N: Divorced couple forced to work together on a merger. Heavily inspired by Suits and Succession because, clearly, I have a type. IDK if this is going to be a series or not, we'll see... also thank you @tezooks for the interest on this fic!

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

Y/n’s heels echoed sharply against the polished marble floor as she walked toward the conference room. The familiar hum of the office surrounded her, but her mind was already in the meeting, calculating, strategizing. Every step was deliberate, each movement precise.

She turned the corner to find Linda waiting by the conference room door, her posture as immaculate as ever, her gaze steady. Linda had been with the firm for years—long enough to understand the weight of every decision Y/n made, and long enough to be trusted without question.

“Good morning,” Y/n greeted, her tone crisp, but warm enough to convey a sense of connection.

Linda’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles as she met Y/n’s eyes. “Good morning, Ms. Y/n. Everything’s in place for the meeting.”

Y/n’s eyes flicked to the door of the conference room. “And Tony?”

Linda’s smile faded, her expression carefully neutral. “He’s already in there. Waiting.”

Y/n’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second before she nodded. “Let him wait. He thrives on anticipation.” She adjusted her suit, ensuring everything was perfectly in place before meeting Linda’s eyes once more. “Thank you for the heads-up.”

Linda offered a silent nod in response, her respect for Y/n clear in the way she carried herself. “Of course. I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

With that, Y/n gave a small nod of acknowledgment, the brief exchange enough to communicate the trust between them. Without another word, she pushed open the door to the conference room, her presence commanding the space before she even entered.

All eyes turned to her—except one.

Leaning back in one of the leather chairs at the far end of the table, her ex-husband lounged like he owned the place. Technically, he did own a chunk of it. His tie was loose, his tailored jacket draped over the chair next to him, and a mischievous smirk played on his lips as he scrolled through his phone.

“Well, well,well” he drawled without looking up, “the queen has arrived. Let the peasants rejoice.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she masked it with a pointed glance at her watch. “And here I thought you’d be too busy golfing to show up. Or was it poker night at the club?”

Finally, he looked up, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Poker’s tomorrow. Today’s just my weekly charity work.” He gestured around the room. “You know, teaching the juniors how the grown-ups do mergers.”

One of the younger associates coughed to cover a laugh, and Y/n’s gaze swept over the room, silencing them with a single arch of her brow.

“Charity work?” she echoed, walking to her seat at the head of the table. “That’s funny. I thought your specialty was tax avoidance and charming widows.”

“Not just widows,” he quipped, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. “I have a pretty good track record with divorcees, too.”

Her hand tightened on the back of her chair, but her voice stayed cool. “So good, you’re two for two. Impressive.”

The room collectively froze, caught in the crossfire of their razor-sharp exchange. The senior partner on her right cleared his throat nervously, trying to cut the tension. “Shall we get started?”

“Please,” Y/n said smoothly, lowering herself into her seat. “We’re here to finalize the merger details for Sterling & Co. before their board meeting tomorrow. I trust everyone has reviewed the financial reports?”

“Oh, I’ve reviewed them,” her ex chimed in, pulling a neatly folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket. “There’s just one problem. Page 17—projections for the fourth quarter are laughable. Unless Sterling’s CFO moonlights as a magician, those numbers are pure fiction.”

There were a few nervous chuckles around the table, and Y/n arched an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me you didn’t find their magical 20% growth plan convincing? Shocking.”

“Shocking is how long it took for someone to point it out,” he shot back, leaning forward.

She raised an eyebrow, flipping to the page in question. “I suppose you’re volunteering to rewrite their business plan?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve saved a failing venture,” he said, leaning back with an infuriatingly confident smirk. “Or reminded someone to check their blind spots.” He slid a file across the table.

She picked it up, skimming the contents. Her lips pursed, and for a moment, the room held its breath.

“Not bad,” she admitted, her tone grudging. “For someone who spends more time golfing than working.”

He leaned back, grinning. “You’d be amazed at how productive I can be between holes.”

“Spare us the details,” she retorted, her eyes still on the file. “Let’s focus on salvaging this merger before Sterling’s board meeting tomorrow.”

Tony leaned back, his hands behind his head, his grin infuriatingly smug. “Fine. But if we’re going to save Sterling, we need to talk about their litigation risks. Their portfolio’s a disaster.”

Y/n glanced up, her expression sharp. “I’ve already flagged that. Their employment practices alone are a lawsuit waiting to happen. The severance disputes in their HR files could sink them if they’re not handled correctly.”

“Handled correctly?” Tony echoed, feigning shock. “Darling, they need a complete overhaul. Their HR policies look like they were written on a napkin in the ‘80s. I suggest we include mandatory compliance training as part of the merger terms.”

She raised an eyebrow, flipping to another section of the report. “I’ve already drafted a clause for that. But compliance training alone won’t cut it. We need to clean house, starting with their general counsel.”

Tony whistled low, clearly impressed. “Ouch. Cold as ever. But you’re not wrong. Their general counsel is... how should I put this? Underwhelming. What’s your plan for the inevitable PR fallout when we push them out?”

“Mitigation,” she replied, not missing a beat. “We’ll preemptively frame it as a step toward modernization and efficiency. Their board will eat it up, especially if we back it with an improved diversity and inclusion plan.”

Tony smirked. “Always ten steps ahead, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to be,” she shot back. “While you’re busy charming the press and schmoozing clients, I’m the one keeping the ship from sinking.”

“Hey,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, “I schmooze strategically. You’d be surprised how much a little charm can smooth over merger tensions.”

“Charm doesn’t fix bad contracts,” she countered. “Or litigation traps. Sterling’s arbitration agreements are a mess, and their partnership structure is barely holding together. If we don’t address those, this merger will be dead on arrival.”

Tony sat up, his tone serious now. “Agreed. Let’s restructure their partnership agreements entirely—transition them to a tiered equity model. It’ll stabilize their revenue streams and make it easier to retain top talent post-merger.”

Y/n nodded, jotting notes as he spoke. “Good. But we’ll need to sweeten the deal for their junior partners. Increased buy-in options tied to performance metrics should do the trick. We’ll incentivize loyalty without draining their resources.”

“Smart,” he said, leaning forward. “But let’s not forget client retention. Sterling’s client portfolio is solid, but they’re vulnerable. If we don’t reassure their top clients during this transition, we risk defections.”

“I’ve already scheduled meetings with their top five clients,” she replied. “We’ll present the merger as a move toward stronger, more efficient representation. If we position it correctly, we can even upsell them on additional services.”

Tony’s grin returned. “God, I missed this. Watching you destroy everyone else’s arguments is like poetry in motion.”

She didn’t look up, her pen still moving across the page. “Focus, Tony. We’re not here to reminisce.”

The senior partner cleared his throat, interrupting the moment. “If I may,” he began hesitantly, “how do you propose handling Sterling’s ongoing class-action suit? Their legal team seems... ill-equipped.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Ill-equipped" is putting it mildly. Their lead counsel couldn’t argue his way out of a parking ticket. I’ll take point on this one.”

Y/n shook her head. “No. You’ll assist, but this is my case. I’ve already started drafting a strategy. First, we push for mediation. If that fails, we’ve got a fallback plan for a quick settlement. The longer this drags on, the more it jeopardizes the merger.”

Tony smirked. “Always the control freak.”

“Always the improviser,” she shot back. “Which is why you’re better as my backup.”

The team exchanged amused glances, their dynamic both entertaining and awe-inspiring.

Tony leaned back, giving her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. You drive; I’ll navigate.”

As the meeting progressed, the room buzzed with energy. Y/n and Tony dissected every aspect of the merger with precision, their combined expertise a masterclass in legal strategy.

By the time the meeting adjourned, the team looked equal parts exhausted and inspired.

“Alright,” Y/n said, gathering her notes. “Tony, I expect your revisions on the partnership agreements by midnight.”

He smirked. “Midnight? Cutting me some slack, will you?”

“Don’t push your luck,” she replied, her tone sharp but with a hint of a smile.

As the team filed out, Tony lingered, his eyes following her as she packed up her things.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “we make a hell of a team.”

She paused, her expression unreadable. “We always did.”

The team exchanged glances, marveling at the seamless way the two bounced ideas off each other. It was like watching two virtuosos perform a duet—each one pushing the other to greater heights.

Y/n gathered her notes, sliding them into her leather portfolio with meticulous precision, fully aware of Tony’s eyes tracking her every move. His gaze was too heavy, too familiar.

“So,” he said casually, leaning against the edge of the table like he owned not just the furniture but the air she was breathing, “since we’re working so well together, how about lunch? To strategize further, of course. I hear that new French place downtown is incredible.”

She glanced up, arching a brow. “Lunch? Is that your latest excuse for trying to spend more time with me?”

“Excuse?” he repeated, his tone mock-wounded as he straightened. “Ouch, sweetheart. I thought you’d jump at the chance to pick my brain over a plate of foie gras.”

Y/n’s lips twitched—almost—but she didn’t give him the satisfaction. “Your brain is the last thing I’d want to pick, Tony. And stop calling me ‘sweetheart.’”

“Force of habit,” he replied, the smirk in his voice as audible as the one gracing his lips. He stepped closer, invading her space, his cologne a maddening reminder of nights she didn’t want to remember but couldn’t forget. “But come on. Just lunch. Strictly professional. You have my word.”

“Your word?” she repeated, closing her portfolio with a sharp snap. “Excuse me if I don’t find that particularly reassuring.”

He leaned down, hands on the table on either side of her notes, caging her in with that infuriating mix of charm and audacity. “Oh, come on. I’m not that bad.”

Her breath hitched despite herself. Damn him. “You’re worse.”

His smirk widened as his dark eyes bore into hers. “You’re smiling, though.”

“Barely,” she countered, stepping back—or trying to. The table behind her left nowhere to go.

Tony’s grin softened, a rare flicker of something real slipping through. “You used to like my bad habits.”

“That was before I knew better,” she shot back, though her voice lacked its usual sharp edge.

He tilted his head, closing the space between them again, so close now she could feel the heat radiating from him. His gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second, and her pulse betrayed her, quickening.

“For the record,” he murmured, his voice low and impossibly smooth, “you haven’t learned a thing. Otherwise, you’d have kicked me out by now.”

She swallowed hard, willing her composure back. “Don’t tempt me.”

Tony chuckled, his breath brushing her cheek. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

The air between them crackled, the distance practically nonexistent. His hand drifted just slightly, brushing her arm, a touch so brief it could have been accidental—but wasn’t.

And then, as if the moment teetered on the edge of something neither of them was ready to admit, Y/n sidestepped, breaking the spell.

“Lunch,” she said briskly, grabbing her portfolio and stepping around him. “Twenty minutes. Don’t be late.”

He turned as she walked away, his smirk returning, though his voice was softer. “When am I ever late?”

She didn’t answer, disappearing through the door with her usual grace.

The French bistro had a quiet sophistication that suited the occasion. Light chatter filled the room, underscored by soft classical music, but Y/n barely noticed. Her focus was on the folder in front of her, its contents neatly arranged—notes, projections, and proposals that could make or break the merger.

Tony arrived a few minutes late, as usual, but with the air of someone who knew how to make an entrance. He shed his coat and slid into the seat across from her, his casual demeanor contrasting sharply with her poised professionalism.

“So, what’s on the agenda, boss?”

Y/n’s lips twitched at the title, but she let it slide. “Sterling,” she said, cutting straight to the point. “They’re playing hardball on equity redistribution. I’ve outlined our options, but we need to decide on a strategy before the board meeting tomorrow.”

Tony leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Let me guess—they’re trying to hold out for a bigger piece of the pie?”

“Exactly,” she confirmed. “But their position isn’t as strong as they think. They’re banking on us blinking first.”

The waiter appeared, interrupting them briefly to take their orders. Y/n opted for a salade niçoise, Tony for steak frites. As soon as the waiter left, Tony turned back to her, his expression unusually serious.

“So, what’s the play?” he asked, scanning the document she slid across the table.

“We present minor concessions as a gesture of goodwill,” she explained. “Enough to make them feel like they’ve won something, but not enough to disrupt the structure. If they push for more, we call their bluff. Their position won’t hold up under scrutiny, and they know it.”

Tony nodded, his eyes darting over the document. “Solid plan. But what if they double down instead? They might drag this out just to see how far we’ll bend.”

“I’ve factored that in,” Y/n said, pulling another sheet from her portfolio. “This is our fallback position. It’s not ideal, but it’ll keep the deal moving forward without giving up too much leverage.”

He studied the paper, his brow furrowing slightly. “You’ve been busy.”

“Someone has to be,” she replied dryly.

Tony glanced up, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. “You know, most people would have called it a day after the last round of negotiations. But not you.”

“Most people aren’t trying to save a multi-million-dollar merger,” she shot back.

His lips curved into a faint smile, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he leaned back, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before shifting to the folder still open on the table.

“So,” he began, his tone casual, “what’s your take on Sterling’s new CFO? Walters, right? He’s been suspiciously quiet in these meetings.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Quiet, but not absent. He’s been feeding his team notes—counterpoints, objections. He’s not as passive as he seems.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully, drumming his fingers lightly on the table. “That’s what I figured. I had a chat with one of his former colleagues. Apparently, Walters likes to fly under the radar until he’s ready to pounce.”

She arched a brow. “And you just happened to run into one of his colleagues?”

“What can I say?” he replied, a hint of mischief in his tone. “I like to be thorough.”

“Thorough,” she repeated, her voice laced with skepticism.

“Thorough,” he confirmed, his grin widening. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“On this?” she said after a pause. “Yes. But don’t push it.”

Their conversation paused as the waiter returned with their food. Tony’s steak frites looked indulgent compared to her lighter salad, but he didn’t comment, instead diving into the meal with surprising restraint.

As they ate, the discussion shifted to logistics: timelines, integration plans, and the delicate task of managing client lists. Tony contributed more than she’d expected, his insights sharp and his instincts—when not veering into overly charming territory—on point.

“I’ll follow up with Walters,” he said as they reached the end of their plates. “See if I can’t get a better read on him.”

Y/n hesitated, her fork hovering over her plate. “Be careful. He’s not the type to underestimate. If he realizes you’re fishing for information—”

“He won’t,” Tony interrupted smoothly. “I’ll keep it subtle. Promise.”

She gave him a long look, weighing her trust against her better judgment. Finally, she nodded. “Fine. But let me know what you find.”

“Always,” he said, his tone lighter now, almost teasing. “What would you do without me?”

“Sleep better, for one,” she replied, closing her portfolio with a sharp snap.

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Fair enough.”

As they stood to leave, Tony lingered for a moment, holding the door open for her. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by something quieter, almost thoughtful.

“You know,” he said as they stepped into the street, “for all your talk about strategy, I think you just like keeping me on my toes.”

“Someone has to,” she quipped, her tone brisk but not unkind.

He grinned, falling into step beside her. “Well, keep it up. You’re pretty good at it.”

They walked down the street together, their usual banter fading into companionable silence. 

© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[felassan]

Article: 'Control, consent, compensation': Voice actors express concern over AI in video games

Excerpt:

"Another major concern is fair treatment. For voice actor Jennifer Hale, it comes down to three things: "Control of what happens with our voice. Consent to use our voice in the first place. And compensation for the use of our voice," says Hale, who was born in Happy Valley-Goose Bay, N.L., and now lives on Vancouver Island. "This is my voice," says Hale, best known as Commander Shepard in the "Mass Effect" series. "This is the expression of my soul. This is the expression of my decades of life experience. No one is allowed to use it without my permission."

[source]

[muhtesemz]

A video from 1967, where children were asked about their feelings—beautiful how thoughtfully and eloquently they expressed themselves.

This is something I always worry about in our time. We no longer read books. We don’t have the patience for that anymore. From books to movies, then YouTube videos, then 10-second reels—and now we don’t even have time for those. We just ask ChatGPT to summarize everything.

No wonder we struggle to articulate what’s in our minds. With all the puns, double meanings, and lack of attention, I feel human mind is heading toward a kind of disaster.

And even then, we’re pushing toward working directly with neurons—no voice commands needed, machines reacting straight from the brain. Only God knows what kind of times lie ahead.

[imhereforthelesbianstuff]

A little scene (very quick, sorry for possible mistakes) in between the battle with Ambessa and Vander, and Vi waking up in Caitlyn's bed. I just can't take this off of my mind. (Translation by ChatGPT)

The smoke was beginning to dissipate, and above the ringing in her ears, Caitlyn could start to hear a voice. No, shouts. And when she finally managed to understand what the shouts were saying, panic washed over her.

"Vi! Vi! Wake up!" Jinx screamed, shaking her sister with one hand, the other gripping one of the Noxian warrior weapons, keeping the arriving enforcers at bay.

Caitlyn remembered it clearly—she had been carrying Vi, but she had slipped away. She had run to stop her sister from jumping into the battle to save that little girl. She had protected Jinx from the explosion with her own body.

Cait rose as fast as she could, still dazed from the explosion, running toward Vi, giving orders with a simple gesture for her men to lower their weapons and step back. She threw herself on top of Vi, replacing Jinx's screams with her own. Jayce appeared behind her, and Caitlyn didn’t care where from. He was urging her to leave, but she wasn’t going to leave Vi behind.

Jinx grabbed her by the shoulders forcefully. "Save her! She matters to you, right? Save her." Part of Caitlyn’s dazed brain was shocked by what was in front of her: barely a girl with a face streaked with tears, begging her to save her sister. Could this really be the same person she’d hated? Jinx shoved her shoulder hard, turning back toward Vi’s lifeless body. "Do something, come on! She cares about you. She... Do you love her?" Jinx’s gaze was so intense that Caitlyn had to step back a few inches. "Save her." And finally, Caitlyn seemed to snap back to reality. She saw Loris among her men, staring at Vi in horror.

"Loris, help me, she needs to see a doctor." The man nodded, determined, and approached to lift Vi into his arms. They couldn’t go back to camp; this was Ambessa’s territory. Behind them, Caitlyn heard shouting and a scuffle—her men had captured Jinx, who was simply following Vi with her gaze, offering no resistance. Caitlyn raised a hand toward her, unsure of what order to give. Let her go? Handcuff her?

"Commander, are you coming?" Loris shouted, moving as fast as he could with Vi. And Caitlyn didn’t hesitate any longer; she went with him.

"We should take her to a hospital," Jayce said, still with her, though it was clear he, too, needed one.

"No," Caitlyn’s reply was curt. Ambessa would have easy access to a hospital, though the real reason was that Caitlyn didn’t want to lose sight of Vi again. If she woke up in a hospital, she was sure Vi would leave, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever see her again. She didn’t want to face that thought right now.

She guided Loris and a small group to her own house, taking her companion through hallways toward her bedroom. She wouldn’t feel safe with Vi anywhere else.

In one of those hallways, they crossed paths with Maddie, who was surely there as part of the guard left to watch the house, keeping her father safe.

"Caitl..." She couldn’t even finish the sentence. Caitlyn passed her by without looking at her, not even acknowledging her presence, with deep concern on her face.

"Vi’s injured," Loris explained quickly, carrying the unconscious bundle in his arms.

"Vi?" was all the young woman could say, completely confused. As far as she knew, Vi had left the platoon after an altercation with Caitlyn. Why was she unconscious in her house now? And why did Caitlyn have that desperate look on her face?

As soon as they reached Caitlyn’s room, she pointed to the bed, giving orders to clear the area and call for a doctor. She was left alone in the room with Loris.

"Is she going to...?" Loris couldn’t finish the question.

"She’ll be fine. You don’t know her like I do; she’s tough, she can handle this," Caitlyn cut him off sharply, leaning over Vi. She pulled off the jacket someone had placed on her, which was hastily pressed against the wound on her side, tearing a piece of sheet to press it clean. She started removing the makeshift bandages from her torso, now soaked in blood and ashes, but when she reached her chest, she couldn’t help but pause. Loris turned around, but it wasn’t for him—Caitlyn felt as though she was invading something very intimate of Vi’s, something she longed to know, but only if Vi wanted to share it. Of course, her life was in danger. She left the bandage as it was and focused on cleaning the exposed wound, just as a doctor arrived. Caitlyn stepped back immediately, staying just a few steps behind the doctor, watching every move with desperation.

Maddie was at the door, still not understanding anything. Was she even friends with Vi? Caitlyn had never been this worried about her, this terrified. At that moment, it seemed like Caitlyn’s sanity depended entirely on Vi surviving.

Another doctor had to join them. Hours passed, and Caitlyn could feel her body trembling from the panic. She hadn’t even sat down, always a few steps behind the doctors, making sure Vi’s chest still rose and fell, that she was still breathing. One of the doctors suggested taking her to the hospital, but Caitlyn refused again. They were going to save her, and they were going to save her there.

After many hours, three exhausted doctors left the room, leaving behind a weakened but stable Vi. Caitlyn thanked them as neutrally as she could, but as soon as they closed the door behind them, she couldn’t stop herself from collapsing to her knees beside the bed, letting out all the tears from hours of tension and worry. Days and weeks of guilt. She took Vi’s hand in hers, bringing it to her cheek, unable to stop crying.

By the time Jayce entered the room, Caitlyn was lying on the bed, her back propped up against the headboard, her gaze fixed on Vi, watching her breath. She had changed the bloodstained sheets with Loris’s help, and Caitlyn had carefully put a shirt on Vi, handling her injuries with the utmost care. She had even washed her hair gently, slowly, so as not to hurt her, almost ritually, until it regained the red Caitlyn had first known her with.

"How is she?" Jayce asked, moving closer to the bed. He, too, seemed to be in better condition.

"She’ll live," Caitlyn didn’t even look away from Vi to answer, her gaze so intense that Jayce almost felt uncomfortable. He had his suspicions about Caitlyn’s feelings for Vi from the moment she had brought her into the council room, but when Vi disappeared, he hadn’t thought for a second about how his friend might feel. Caitlyn had seemed fine. Now, he realized how wrong he had been.

"We need you in the council. We both know Ambessa will come for you, and for all of Piltover."

"I know," Caitlyn didn’t move an inch.

"She’s fine, Cait."

"I know."

"And she’ll stay fine." Caitlyn didn’t respond, only reached out a hand toward the mattress, closer to Vi, but not touching her.

"She’s not going anywhere, Cait."

Caitlyn furrowed her brow for just a second, as if she wasn’t so sure of that.

"How close is Ambessa?"

"No trace of her yet."

"Then this can wait."

"Cait, I don’t think—"

"Can you call Loris?" She cut her friend off. "There’s something that can’t wait."

Caitlyn walked slowly toward the cell, the sound of her footsteps the only noise on the cold floor. The girl inside the cell didn't move, curled up in a corner, long blue locks surrounding her. The explosion had barely touched her, thanks to the shield that had been Vi.

"Vi's fine, she's alive. And stable," Caitlyn had come here just to say that, not intending to stay any longer. She felt she owed it to Vi, even to Jinx, who had saved her life. The only thing that worried her was that they would save her sister’s. She had come to tell her that Vi was fine before returning to her side; she didn't want Vi to wake up without her.

"Thank you," was all Jinx responded, her only movement being the slump of her shoulders, as if she had just let go of a heavy weight. Caitlyn turned to leave.

"Who was the girl?" There was no response from Jinx. She only buried her face deeper into her arms.

"I'm sorry," Caitlyn murmured before walking away.

She stayed lying next to Vi, barely moving, even when a doctor came to check her condition. Caitlyn was always there, on the other side of the bed, watching over her, taking care of her.

"Caitlyn?" The door opened suddenly, and there was Maddie, looking at her with confusion written all over her face. She looked first at Caitlyn, lying beside Vi, staring at her, then at Vi, still unconscious in a bed where not long ago, it had been Maddie. And then back to Caitlyn, who was now glaring at her, annoyed by the interruption.

"Well?" The Commander asked when Maddie couldn’t find her voice.

"The first Noxian ships have appeared." Caitlyn sighed and looked back at Vi, who was breathing normally, though still unconscious.

"How close are they?" She certainly wasn't going to leave here unless it was absolutely necessary. Maddie noticed this, frowning.

"The landing is imminent." She stood there, glaring at Caitlyn, who was now gazing at Vi’s face with a tenderness Maddie had never seen before. Caitlyn was about to tell her to leave, to go warn her when they were near the shores. Clearly, she didn’t want to move from here.

"Commander, we need to prepare for battle," Maddie pressed, planting herself firmly in place, as if refusing to leave without her.

Caitlyn let her head drop with a sigh of resignation, her fingers lightly brushing the back of Vi’s hand.

"I know. Wait for me in my study, I’ll be there soon."

Maddie didn’t move from the door, jealousy written in the way she looked at Vi.

"Officer Nolen, wait for me in the study for instructions," Caitlyn said authoritatively, slightly leaning over Vi, as if trying to protect her from the venom in Maddie’s gaze, who finally started to withdraw.

"And tell Loris if he can come, I don’t want her waking up alone." Maddie nodded curtly, closing the door behind her.

Caitlyn lay back down on the bed, her cheek resting on Vi’s shoulder, holding her hand.

"I'm sorry I can't be here when you wake up." Footsteps approached the door, probably Loris. Caitlyn left a simple kiss on Vi's cheek, close to her lips. "Don't hate me."

By the time Loris entered the room, the Commander was already standing by the bed, giving him some instructions before she left the room.

[nyuusayuri]

Trickster Hongjoong x Reader (SMUT)

[This Story was almost completely written by ChatGPT]

"Encore"

Genre: Smut, Thriller, Dark Romance

Warnings: Blood, obsession, knife play, dub-con elements, power play, explicit content (18+)

The neon lights flickered overhead, casting an eerie glow over the empty stage. Y/Ns breath hitched as she stumbled backward, her heart hammering against her ribs. The music that once filled the venue had faded, replaced by a slow, deliberate hum.

A voice—honeyed and laced with danger—echoed from the shadows.

"You're quite the fighter, Y/N."

She whipped around, her eyes locking onto him.

Hongjoong—no, the Trickster—stepped into the light, his signature smirk curling at the edges of his lips. He was breathtaking in the worst way—golden hair tousled, sweat glistening on his skin from the performance he had just given, a blade twirling effortlessly between his fingers.

"You ran," he tsked, tilting his head. "Didn’t you like my show?"

Y/N swallowed hard. “You—You’re insane.”

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound almost boyish—if not for the danger coiled beneath it. "Oh, sweetheart, don’t flatter me." In a blink, he was inches from her, caging her against the wall behind her. His knife traced along her jaw, cold steel kissing her heated skin.

She gasped, her pulse betraying her. Fear. Excitement. Something more.

“Your heart’s racing,” Hongjoong murmured, voice dipping lower. “Is it fear, or…” He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “Something else?”

Y/N clenched her fists. “I hate you.”

His smirk widened. “Then why aren’t you running?”

She wanted to—God, she wanted to. But his presence was suffocating, intoxicating. The Trickster had a way of commanding attention, bending the world around him like he was born to perform, to dominate.

“You’re beautiful when you tremble,” he whispered, pressing the knife against her collarbone, just enough to make her feel. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to see you like this?”

Her breath hitched as his free hand slid down her waist, teasing, testing. He was playing with her, the same way he played with his victims—except, this time, it was different.

"You're mine, Y/N."

Her knees nearly buckled.

Hongjoong grinned, knowing she was unraveling under his touch. His lips brushed over hers—just a ghost of a kiss. A tease. His control was maddening.

“You want this,” he murmured, tracing the knife lower, the sharp edge just barely grazing the fabric of her dress. “Don’t you?”

Y/N shuddered, torn between logic and desire. Between terror and heat.

And then—

The knife fell from his hand, clattering to the floor.

His lips crashed into hers.

It was rough, messy, possessive. Hongjoong devoured her like she was a song he had waited too long to play—his hands gripping her hips, pulling her flush against him. The taste of danger lingered on his tongue, and she drowned in it.

Y/N moaned into the kiss, her body betraying every warning in her mind. Hongjoong’s hands were everywhere—greedy, demanding—his fingers slipping beneath the thin fabric of her dress, tracing the bare skin of her thigh.

He pulled back, eyes dark with hunger.

"You should run, Y/N." His voice was husky, teasing. "Because if you stay…"

His hand slid higher, fingers grazing her heat.

"I won't stop."

And neither of them wanted him to.

Y/N’s breath came in sharp gasps, her body burning from the inside out.

The Trickster’s fingers teased, tracing lazy circles along her inner thigh, the cold of his rings a stark contrast to her overheated skin. He was toying with her, watching her reactions like she was just another instrument to be played.

"You're shaking, sweetheart," Hongjoong whispered, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear. His breath was hot, teasing. "But not from fear, are you?"

Y/N clenched her jaw, refusing to answer.

His low chuckle sent a thrill down her spine. "Still acting tough," he mused, letting his hand slip higher, just barely grazing where she needed him most. "You think you can resist me?"

Her fingers gripped his shirt, but he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand.

"Be good," he murmured. "Or I'll make you beg."

Y/N's thighs clenched at his words. He noticed.

"Ah," Hongjoong smirked, dragging his lips along her jaw. "So, you like that?"

She bit her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

But he wasn’t having that.

With a sudden movement, he kicked her legs apart, pressing his knee between them. His grip on her wrists tightened. "Say it."

Y/N swallowed hard, her pride warring with the raw need pooling between her legs.

"I…"

His fingers traced her soaked panties, a teasing stroke that had her thighs trembling.

"You’re already this wet?" His voice was mocking, but his own breath hitched.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed as he pushed the fabric aside, sliding a single finger through her slick folds.

“Hongjoong—”

"Shhh." He silenced her with a kiss, deep and punishing, his tongue claiming every gasp she let out. His fingers moved too slow, teasing, tracing, but never pushing in.

Y/N bucked her hips, desperate for more.

He chuckled. “So eager. Should I reward you?"

"Please," she whispered, pride long forgotten.

The satisfaction in his eyes was maddening.

“Good girl.”

With these words he ripped her underwear apart before he sank to his knees.

Y/N’s breath caught as he hiked her leg over his shoulder, spreading her open for him. His hands held her thighs in place, thumbs rubbing slow, hypnotic circles.

Then—his tongue.

A sharp cry left her lips as Hongjoong licked a long, deliberate stripe over her core, his tongue flicking over her clit before pulling away.

"You taste even better than I imagined," he purred.

Y/N’s fingers buried themselves in his hair, trying to pull him closer, but he held her in place, controlling the pace. His tongue moved in slow, tormenting patterns, licking and sucking as if he had all the time in the world.

"Fuck," she whimpered, legs shaking.

His dark laughter vibrated against her before his tongue picked up the pace and drove in rough strokes through her lips.

Y/N tightened her grip on his hair as her legs began to shake. Hongjoong couldn't resist nibbling on her clit and laughed spitefully as he made her whimper in his grip. The sensation of his teeth against her pussy was the last bit to send her over the edge.

"That's it," he growled. "Come for me."

And with a sharp suck to her clit, she shattered.

Her body spasmed, thighs clenching around his head, but Hongjoong didn’t stop. He kept going, licking, devouring, pushing her into overstimulation until she sobbed his name.

Only then did he finally pull back, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk.

"You're gorgeous like this," he murmured, standing up and pressing his thigh between her legs again. "But we're not done, sweetheart."

Y/N barely had time to recover before he spun her around, bending her over the dressing room counter.

She gasped, catching her reflection in the mirror. Her lips were swollen, her thighs still trembling, and behind her—Hongjoong, eyes dark with lust, his fingers undoing his belt.

"You look ruined already," he teased, running his hands over her ass before delivering a sharp slap that had her moaning.

"You can take more, can't you?"

Y/N bit her lip, nodding.

Hongjoong leaned in while he pulled his length out, his breath hot against her neck. "Good girl."

Then, with one deep thrust, he buried himself inside her.

A choked moan escaped her lips as he stretched her wide, the delicious burn leaving her breathless.

"Fuck," Hongjoong hissed, gripping her hips so tightly it was sure to leave bruises. "You're so tight."

Y/N's fingers dug into the counter as he pulled out, only to slam back in, his pace brutal, unrelenting. The sounds of their bodies colliding filled the room, a mix of moans, panting, and skin slapping against skin.

Hongjoong reached around, circling her clit in time with his thrusts.

“Come for me again,” he growled.

Y/N’s walls clenched around him as another orgasm tore through her, her vision whiting out as she screamed his name.

But he wasn’t done.

“You can take one more,” he whispered, pressing his knife against her throat—just enough to excite, not hurt.

Y/N gasped, her body trembling from the delicious fear of it combined with the relentless feeling of overstimulation.

"You love this, don’t you?" he taunted, his strokes turning messy, desperate.

And then—with a deep, shuddering groan, he came, filling her up completely. When she heard him moan deeply into her ear, her body couldn't resist any longer. A third climax took over her body as another scream left her throat.

Y/N collapsed against the counter, body boneless, chest heaving.

Hongjoong pressed a lingering kiss to her shoulder, fingers lazily tracing circles on her back.

Then he smirked, tilting her chin up so their eyes met in the mirror.

“Looks like you’re mine now, sweetheart.”

[taoriyu]

Being in charge [Mizu x Reader]

=========== Pairing: Mizu x Reader Rating: T (I guess)

Short description: You are on watch tonight, and your military skills and commanding experience have proven invaluable. No harm was taken, but it seems a certain samurai has developed a taste for moments like these.

Additional warnings: - Things got a bit spicy this time but nothing mature. - An idea of archer reader isn't unique too, but a thought it would be a good match for a party of two melees and one useful handyman (kudos for Ringo)

Also: Mon - a round copper coins with a hole in the center, which were used for everyday transactions (according to ChatGPT).

Lleeet's go

===========

The night enveloped the surroundings in a cloak of brightness and freshness, the air imbued with the enchanting scent of blossoms and grass, mingling with the smoky essence of the fire. You established camp on the outskirts of the forest, sheltered beneath the towering canopy, away from the exposed and vulnerable thoroughfare that traversed the plain. Mizu, Ringo, and Taigen slumbered on their blankets around the crackling campfire, while owls hooted from the depths of the forest and leaves rustled noisily under the gentle caress of the wind, causing the treetops to sway in rhythm. The fire emitted soft, crackling sounds, punctuating the tranquil night of your watching.

Suddenly, a sharp snap shattered the serenity, followed by muted murmurs to your right. From the woods ahead, a hushed sound admonished silence. Metallic clicks echoed from the left, accompanied by the taut, high-pitched twang of a bowstring.

"Alarm! We're under attack!" Your shouts reverberated through the night, punctuated by the resounding clangs of a kitchen hatchet striking a metallic pot, your makeshift cooking vessel with Ringo.

"Ringo, raise your shield! There's an archer to your flank!" With agile reflexes, you leaped aside, narrowly avoiding the trajectory of an arrow.

"Mizu, Taigen, two assailants on my left!" Drawing the string of your bow taut, you hissed through clenched teeth, relying solely on your acute hearing to guide your aim. In the darkness of the forest and the flickering glow of the campfire behind you, discerning silhouettes proved impossible.

Thud. Thud. The sickening sound of arrows finding their mark, followed by the anguished cry of a fallen foe.

Swords clashed and screams erupted to your left. Swiftly, you pivoted, shifting towards the source of the archer's assault. With a swift motion, the archer released another arrow, only to find it stuck in an old shield repurposed as a makeshift table — a handy thing you and Ringo had devised for your cooking endeavors, now proving invaluable in defense.

Inhale. Aim. Exhale slowly. As your heartbeat steadied, time seemed to dilate. The assailant moved. Thud. Thud. The last of them fell.

You released a pent-up breath, surveying the aftermath.

"Are you alright, Ringo?" A nod confirmed his well-being as he rose from his defensive stance behind the shield.

"Mizu, Taigen, are you unharmed?" Your voice echoed through the night, seeking assurance from your comrades.

"We're fine," Taigen grumbled, emerging from the shadows along with Mizu.

Taigen retired to his blanket, voicing discontent, while Ringo extracted an arrow from the shield with attachable forceps.

"Mizu, with me. We need to inspect the fallen. The rest of you, remain vigilant. There may be more." Your directive was met with a quizzical glance from Mizu, but she acquiesced, falling into step beside you.

Three of the bodies yielded almost nothing: five mon, a bundle of poor-quality arrows, and no clues about the origin of the bandits. As you approached the last body, hidden in the shadows, Mizu spoke up.

"So, you're taking control tonight," she remarked quietly, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips, her eyes ignited with a certain spark.

"Perhaps I am," you responded, surprised by your own audacity, which failed to conceal the crimson hue coloring your ears.

Mizu's smile widened as she closed the distance between you, her stature seeming even taller in that moment.

"Command me then," Mizu murmured softly, trailing her knuckles across your cheek. Redness spread across your face, and your mouth fell open. Staring into her crystal blue eyes, dozens of thoughts raced through your mind, adrenaline amplifying every heartbeat.

Wait, what? She's serious? I thought she was mocking me. It's impossible, right? Gods, what do I do? Being in charge in battle is one thing. Commanding her right now is another. Maybe I should run? Coward. Argh!

Feeling as if you were standing on a cliff, you swallowed dryly and shifted your gaze to Mizu's lips. A faint pink blush colored her cheekbones too. To hell with it, you thought, and made a leap of faith.

"Kiss me then," you said, smiling nervously.

"I obey," Mizu whispered, propping up your chin and moving closer. Her tongue brushed against your bottom lip, making you gasp and hold your breath. She parted your lips and deepened the kiss. You felt like you were falling, your face hot and your fingers cold. A pulling sensation started to form inside your belly as the kiss grew more intense. Mizu let out a low, muted moan, sucking your bottom lip before parting from you. Both of you panted heavily, staring at each other with longing, unfocused gazes.

"Guys! Any discoveries?" Taigen's interruption shattered the moment.

Mizu’s eyes darted around, trying to focus. She gasped shortly, as if waking from a dream.

“Nothing interesting,” she shouted back to the camp.

She looked at you again, smiling cunningly. "I like when you're in charge," she said quietly, tapping the tip of your nose before heading back to the camp.

[cherrycigaretes]

here is a chatgpt english translation of a memorial card from Wittgenstein's funeral

front side (left panel):

"In memory and prayer for Heinrich, Prince of Sayn-Wittgenstein, Major and Commander of a Night Fighter Squadron, Bearer of the Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords.

born: 14 August 1916 in Copenhagen

fallen in air combat: 21 January 1944

The Lord grant him eternal rest"

back side (right panel):

"In the fight against enemy bombers, Major Prinz zu Sayn-Wittgenstein, commander of a night fighter squadron, sacrificed his life on January 21, 1944, after a successful aerial battle, in which he had brought down four enemy bombers.

With deep sorrow, brave people mourns their heroic fighter, who, as a soldier and leader, fulfilled his duty until the last moment. As a devout Christian, he placed his actions under God's command and was prepared at all times to meet his Creator"

From the cemetery of the soldiers shall rise a voice like a warning call:

"O live, you who still walk upon the earth, Live your days as if they were your last!

Thus, he has fulfilled his duty and fallen for his homeland. May his heroic example serve as an inspiration for future generations.

Rest in peace, noble hero! your sacrifice was not in vain!"

i cannot explain why but "prepared at all times to meet his Creator" really stood out for me, it makes me even more sad about his life, all the articles i have read about Heinz spoke of him as a kind, honourable person well loved and respected by his men, i think that paints a rather vivid idea of how he would have been like as a person, let alone how anti-hitler he was that he planned to shoot him, he really deserved to have a long and peaceful life…

[pinkpearljam]

Lore drop:

When i was a kid i played American Mcgee’s Alice alot and i was obsessed with this, God forbid, cat. specifically because of his deep voice and his way of articulation + choice of diction. Even though i was a little girl, i wanted to speak in a deep manly voice like him so i started practicing (because English wasn’t my mother tongue and my accent is more American than British) for like 6 to 7 years until i hit about 95% accuracy. I played the game millions of times, i memorized every line in the game by heart and could recite entire dialogues on command. I even started smoking to make my voice raspy and it helped a bit. I followed the voice actor and studied him from head to toe and i tried to know everything about him in order to know exactly how he came to be able to speak like that. I used to freak my family out alot because of how eerie i sounded when i spoke lol. The obsession did not fade with time though. In fact, 3 years ago i enrolled in the faculty of languages and translation, English department, so i can become more fluent in the british accent and be able to master speaking like the Cheshire cat. i am now 21 years old and no. I’m still not satisfied. As i am now exposed to Ai and stuff, i text ChatGPT daily to track my progress so i can perfectly imitate him, i told chatGPT to be brutally honest and critical to my voice recordings so that i can reach 100% accuracy. I don’t know what’ll happen when i do though. But i will not rest until i sound like the mf cat.

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

tried asking chatGPT and this was the verbatim answer

“Combining the voices of Henry Cavill and Jonathan Bailey could result in a rich, deep tone with a touch of smoothness and charisma. It might have the commanding presence of Cavill's voice coupled with the refined elegance of Bailey's delivery. Overall, it could be quite captivating!”

LMAO SARAH

This is exactly why Lily's going to (redacted) when James tells her to (redacted) while they're (redacted), those horny little devils.

[telldaily]

Hey all, think about it when you rewatch Star Trek TOS The Menagerie episode.

If you haven't thought of it yet, or haven't told so or haven't read so..

The Talosians conjure illusions according to the target's mind, wish, dreams, memories and perhaps expectations.

Jim Kirk, as the focus of the transmission that time, a great deal of distraction, the court martial of Mr. Spock...

Now, at the ending we know that from the Shuttlcraft scene up to the end of the court martial, Mendez was not really there.

Question: The actions of Commodore Mendez, to whom they are actually conjured from?

Now, try to review all Jim Kirk and Commodore Mendez interaction. Would it be valid to think that Jim Kirk is basically talking to himself by a different means?

And consider these to feed the delulu 😆, I ask chatgpt to hallucinate together 🤭

Prompt:

Hey, help me analyze something, Star Trek TOS the menegerie episode

Here me out:

Mendez in the shuttlecraft up to the end of Court Martial is an illusion right? The court martial is to distract Jim Kirk to take over USS Enterprise. Means, Jim Kirk is the focus of Talosians mind projections. And their projections are based on their targets wish, dream, expectations or memories. In the whole ordeal with Mendez, which he is in fact an illusion, was it just Jim Kirk basically talking to himself? Like Mendez is a representation of his Mind but he wont voice out, he is so composed in the whole episode and is containing himself, like it is a good thing that Mendez do the talking.

Chatgpt:

That's a brilliant interpretation, and it aligns well with the Talosians’ abilities and the psychological nuances of "The Menagerie." Let’s unpack this theory in detail:

---

Mendez as Kirk’s Projection

1. Talosian Projections Reflect the Subject's Mind:

The Talosians craft illusions based on their target’s inner desires, memories, and subconscious thoughts. Since Mendez is revealed to be an illusion, his dialogue and actions could indeed reflect Kirk’s internal struggles, thoughts, and emotions.

This makes the court martial less about Spock’s actions and more about Kirk grappling with his responsibilities, loyalty, and the rules he has sworn to uphold.

2. Kirk’s Composure:

Throughout the trial, Kirk remains composed and restrained. However, the stakes are enormous: Spock has betrayed him (on the surface), Pike’s fate is tied to Talos IV, and Kirk’s own authority is being challenged.

Mendez, as a projection, could serve as the external voice for Kirk’s suppressed doubts and frustrations. Mendez is confrontational, insistent, and direct, acting as a counterbalance to Kirk’s calm demeanor.

3. The Shuttlecraft Scene:

Mendez’s presence in the shuttlecraft could symbolize Kirk’s inner turmoil as he tries to reconcile his duty as captain with his friendship and trust in Spock. The dialogue between Kirk and Mendez might essentially be Kirk talking to himself: weighing the Federation’s rules against his personal feelings.

4. Why Mendez?:

Mendez, as the Starbase commander, represents authority and adherence to Starfleet’s regulations. If the Talosians are drawing from Kirk’s mind, Mendez is the perfect figure to embody Kirk’s internal conflict between loyalty and duty.

---

The Illusion of the Court Martial

1. Distraction for Kirk:

The trial distracts Kirk while Spock enacts his plan to deliver Pike to Talos IV. This suggests the Talosians need to keep Kirk mentally occupied, and a court martial would deeply engage him, given his sense of justice and responsibility.

2. Mendez’s Role in the Trial:

During the trial, Mendez often takes a strong moral stance, questioning Spock’s logic and motives. If Mendez is a projection, this could represent Kirk’s own suppressed doubts about Spock’s actions.

Kirk may subconsciously agree with Mendez but cannot voice these thoughts openly due to his duty to remain impartial.

---

Kirk’s Mind at the Center

1. A Reflection of Kirk’s Inner Conflict:

Kirk is portrayed as an ideal Starfleet captain: disciplined, rational, and ethical. But beneath that surface lies a man who values loyalty and personal connections. The Talosians exploit this dichotomy by creating an illusion that externalizes his internal debate.

2. Mendez as a Release Valve:

Mendez serves as a release for Kirk’s suppressed emotions. By letting “Mendez” voice strong opinions and frustrations, Kirk maintains his composure and avoids revealing any personal bias.

3. Does Kirk Realize It?:

One could argue that Kirk subconsciously knows Mendez isn’t real. His calm reaction when Mendez vanishes suggests Kirk might have suspected the illusion all along but chose to play along, trusting that the truth would emerge. *🤔*

---

Final Takeaway

Your interpretation is compelling: Mendez as a projection is more than just a distraction—he’s a manifestation of Kirk’s internal conflict. The court martial isn’t merely a plot device but a psychological battleground where Kirk’s loyalty, duty, and morality collide. The Talosians, through Mendez, give voice to Kirk’s suppressed doubts while maintaining the illusion of external judgment.

This layered reading adds a psychological depth to the episode that’s in line with Star Trek’s tradition of exploring human nature. Would you say this makes Kirk’s character even more relatable or complex?

[leam1983]

Annoyances

Whenever I see a "if you like AI, pls die" post, a part of me wants to take a big, gigantic breath and blurt out the following, Wall of Text style:

Narrow AI is vital to several scientific fields and refers to algorithms that are geared towards the collection, classification and proper identification of datum. It doesn't steal, it doesn't crib from anyone else, but it certainly helps with overlaying false colours on CAT scans and MRI results, for example.

Narrow AI is in your spreadsheet documents. If a spreadsheet is based on a few formulae to keep track of your budget, some measure of AI is involved.

Narrow AI is your average spell-checker's brain, as well. Not Google's - Google Docs just outsources Gemini for some truly godawful proofreading - but your average offline, dumb-as-bricks spell checker qualifies as Narrow AI.

Narrow AI is in your GPS and in your phone's voice-activated commands. Remove it, and you'll have to lug maps around again, or run searches on your own.

When you excoriate someone for using an AI-based tool, you're referring to the more recent years' developments in the field of Wide AI - as in, generalist Artificial Intelligences. AI scientists the world over have all agreed that, by and large, the usefulness of Wide AI is limited.

Later evidence proves that even without the use of poisoning tools like Glaze, Wide AI is poisoning itself, all thanks to the excessive eagerness of content producers who see AI as a means to drive Search Engine Optimization. The Dead Internet Theory isn't quite proven yet; but what is is that AI-generated content is increasingly eating up its own generated slop. ChatGPT has, point in fact, already consumed every scrap of genuine human content there is to access.

So give props to your local neckbeard who wants to make sure we'll one day no longer need to remove someone's thyroid in the case of detected malignancies, because he's looking to use AI to save lives.

Artificial Intelligence isn't the problem, what is is the McDonald's-ized version of it that's being bandied about by publications like The Verge and TechCrunch.

[qatrunnasuha]

Hoshiko the spirit of humility

_________________________

Gender:Male He/Him/His

Species:Celestial star

_________________________________________

Personality: Hoshiko embodies the true essence of humility

calm, wise, and deeply grounded. Despite his immense power, he never flaunts it. He leads not through force or dominance, but through quiet strength, deep compassion, and unwavering patience. He listens more than he speaks and only raises his voice when absolutely necessary, commanding respect through his presence rather than his words.

He often offers guidance to others without making them feel inferior, using questions and gentle nudges to help them realize their potential. Even among the other powerful Aura Spirits, Hoshiko remains humble, treating them as equals rather than subordinates. His wisdom is ancient, yet he never looks down on the younger heroes of the Mushroom Kingdom

in fact, he sees greatness in even the smallest of hearts.

_________________________________________

Origin: Long before the rise of kingdoms and empires, the universe was shaped by seven primordial virtues. From each virtue, a spirit was born

and from humility, came Hoshiko. He emerged during a time of great imbalance, when pride and greed threatened to unravel harmony itself. Tasked with anchoring the Seven Aura Spirits, Hoshiko became their guide, mediator, and moral compass.

Legends say he was once a celestial star being who gave up his radiant form to live closer to the worlds he swore to protect. Through this selfless act, he gained the power of true humility

not as weakness, but as the strength to lift others up.

Over the centuries, Hoshiko has quietly shaped history from the shadows

whispering courage into heroes’ hearts and reminding kings of the value of service. When darkness looms and the balance of virtue is threatened, he gathers the Seven once more to restore peace, with a quiet resolve that burns brighter than any flame

_________________________________________

so yeah Thank to ChatGPT for making this (also AI Art suck)

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

Ooooh noooo....

I just had a thought & it's fucking adorable...

Equal Lady & Ganondorf, maybe something happened to force them to separate for a while...

But when they remeet, it's basically the Stoick & Valka scene from HTTYD2.

Just, ELady all worried that he's angry at her & understanding why he would be, but all he has to say is, "You're as beautiful as the day I lost you." With this expression of having found that piece of himself that he'd lost.

Followed by that hesitant little whistle, then the whispered hopeful words...

He hesitates, heart cracking as that little ember of hope inside him begins to flicker... Until she turns to him, finishing the verse... & continuing the song. And that ember burned bright again.

They're together again. For the Dancing & the Dreaming. 💖💖💖

ITSOFUCKINGCUTEANDICANNOTSTANDITRAHHHHHHHHHH-! That scene always stuck with me, just cuz she was so afraid that he would be angry, that he wouldn't understand, that he would blame her or hate her, and he was just like "Wife. My Wife. I love you so much. I thought I lost you <3"

Thats why I cannot believe what that movie did to them later on how fucking dare you

For the ChatGPT Portion, I used everyone for this one, including Demise, just cuz he's a big ol' ball of HENEEDSLOVE. I always enjoy doing these scenarios and what-ifs. Especially those that tug at the heartstrings!

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Setting: The vast, sunlit expanse of the Great Sea provides the backdrop for their reunion. Ganondorf stands on the deck of his ship, gazing out into the horizon, when he sees her approaching.

Reaction: Ganondorf's hardened expression softens the moment he sees her. His eyes widen with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

Response: Walking towards her, he gently takes her hands in his, his voice filled with awe. "You're as beautiful as the day I lost you." He hesitates for a moment, then begins to hum the familiar tune. As she joins in, his heart swells with joy, and they continue the song together, their voices blending harmoniously.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Setting: They meet in the ruins of Ganon's Castle, a place filled with memories and the lingering scent of magic.

Reaction: Ganondorf’s eyes lock onto hers, and the sternness in his gaze melts away, replaced by a deep, heartfelt yearning.

Response: Taking a tentative step forward, he whispers, "You're as beautiful as the day I lost you." His voice trembles slightly as he begins to whistle the tune. When she joins in, completing the song, he pulls her into a tight embrace, their reunion filled with a profound sense of relief and love.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Setting: In the Twilight Realm, under the eerie glow of twilight, they meet again. The air is thick with the energy of their past encounters.

Reaction: Ganondorf’s usually fierce and commanding demeanor falters, replaced by a look of tender longing.

Response: He reaches out, his fingers brushing against her cheek as he murmurs, "You're as beautiful as the day I lost you." His whistle is hesitant, almost fearful of her reaction. When she responds, joining him in song, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, pulling her close as they sing together, the twilight around them shimmering with their shared joy.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Setting: On the battlefield, amidst the chaos and the clashing of swords, they find each other again.

Reaction: Ganondorf's eyes meet hers across the battlefield, and the world seems to pause for a moment. His stern expression softens, revealing a rare vulnerability.

Response: He strides towards her, ignoring the ongoing battle. "You're as beautiful as the day I lost you." His voice carries over the din of the fight. As he begins the whistle, his eyes never leave hers. When she joins in, he lifts her off the ground, spinning her around as they sing together, the war around them fading into insignificance.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Setting: In the Depths of Hyrule, where shadows loom and secrets lie hidden, they come face to face once more.

Reaction: Ganondorf’s piercing gaze softens, and for a moment, the weight of his burdens lifts as he sees her.

Response: He steps forward, his voice a low, reverent whisper. "You're as beautiful as the day I lost you." His whistle is quiet but filled with hope. As she turns and joins him, completing the song, he pulls her into a fierce embrace, their reunion a beacon of light in the darkness.

Demise

Setting: In the fiery depths of the Underworld, where Demise rules supreme, their reunion is both intense and heartfelt.

Reaction: Demise’s usually fierce and intimidating presence falters, his eyes softening as he sees her.

Response: He approaches her, his voice a rumbling whisper. "You're as beautiful as the day I lost you." His whistle is deep and resonant. When she joins in, their voices merging in harmony, he pulls her close, his usually harsh demeanor melting away in the warmth of their reunion, their love rekindled like a roaring flame.

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In each scenario, the Ganondorfs and Demise react with a mixture of surprise, joy, and profound love. The reunion is marked by a tender moment where they reconnect through a shared song, symbolizing the enduring strength of their bond.