#Help You Write Homework

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝙸 𝚜𝚙𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎… ~

❤️👻💜👻🧡👻❤️👻💜👻🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝟷𝟹: 𝙲𝙰𝚁 𝚁𝙸𝙳𝙴˚*•✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟷,𝟾𝟺𝟻

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚑 🐢❤️

𝙻𝚎𝚛’𝚜: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚑, 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝙳𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝…𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎…

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙲𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚜 👁️👄👁️…

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚂𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚍𝚗𝚍𝚑𝚜𝚓𝚓𝚜˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“Are we there yet?” Mikey whined loudly. 

“Uh…no?” His immediate older brother said, sighing impatiently. 

“…Are we there yet now?” Mikey whined louder. 

“No, Mike.” Donnie huffed through his palm as he rested his cheek on his hand, effortlessly playing his Nintendo Switch as he started to drown out his younger brother’s consistent complaining and restlessness. 

Which…you would think he got used to by now. 

The orange cladded turtle let out a short grunt loudly and dramatically, dragging his hands down his face, “Are we there yet now—?”

“Mikey, I swear to God if you ask that question one more damn time I will not hesitate to open the car door and throw you into ongoing traffic.” Raph growled lowly at the youngest. 

“Boys…be nice to each other, please…” Splinter exclaimed from the front seat as he drove. 

“But Dad! Mikey’s being annoying!” The tallest turtle moaned and groaned as he sunk in the middle seat.

“When is he not?” Donatello mumbled under his breath. 

“Boys…” The rat said warningly. 

“…Sorry, Dad…” The teenager’s grumbled collectively as they glared at one another. 

The rodent father sighed, plugging his phone into the car unit as he stopped on a red light. “…Why don’t we listen to some Podcasts on the radio?” He offered, trying to find something that his boys would enjoy that didn’t involve ripping each of their tails off.

“Yohou listen to podcasts?” The purple banded teenager exclaimed curiously as he took off his headphones. 

“Of course!” Splinter announced proudly, “I’ve been listening to this one that Spy-itify recommended me…it’s really good and well thought out!”

“It’s…It’s…'Spotify', Dad…” The hazelnut eyed teen corrected. 

“That’s what I said; 'Spy-itify'.” The father said simply, causing Raph to facepalm and stuff his face right back into his phone.

“What’s the podcast about?” Michelangelo asked as he leaned his head on the closed window as Splinter started to drive again once more.  

“It’s about this man talking about nature…it’s extremely interesting; I think you three will enjoy it.” The charcoal eyed rat explained. 

“Huh…sounds cool enough.” Donnie snickered, “What’s the guy’s name? Like, the one who mainly talks in the podcast and stuff.”

“Zach Green.” The rat said. 

“He sounds like a drug dealer…” Raphael mumbled under his breath, earning some small snickers from his younger brother’s as their Dad started to play the podcast in the vehicle. 

A guy, most likely 'Zach Green', started singing as there was a ukulele playing in the background…

…And he sang…

…And sang…

…And. SANG.

And the three teenager’s wouldn’t have minded if the dude sounded…y'know, good! 

But he didn’t sound good. 

At all. 

“Grass is green~! The green is the grass~! The grass is the green and the green itself is greeeen~!” The speaker’s sung as the three teenagers collectively sighed as the Podcast continued to play amongst them. 

“…How about we play 'I spy' instead of listening to Shaggy get high?” Mikey suggested as his Dad hummed along to the tune…

Poor soul probably knew this song from heart…

“Anything but this.” Donnie agreed. 

“Best idea I’ve heard all day.” The second oldest murmured, crossing his arms as he looked at the youngest expectantly, “Well? You gonna say 'I spy' or what?”

“Let a guy think for a moment!” Mikey shrieked, “Okay, okay, okay…I spy with my little eye—”

“—More like pink eye.” The turtle with glasses giggled under his breath, trying to cover it as a cough as he saw his younger brother side-eyeing him. “Y'know, Dee…we could really go.” The orange banded teenager glared.

“Bet. Catch me outside. 3:30 on the dot.” The purple cladded mutant threatened. 

“Bet.” The youngest repeated. 

Donatello raised an unamused brow, “I already said 'bet' you phrase snatcher!” 

“You don’t own the word 'bet', you four-eyed freak!”

“God— 'BET' YOURSELVES!” Raphael snapped, taking a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his snout, “I swear to literally anything and everything holy I am completely envying the fact that Leo doesn’t have to suffer in this freaking hell-hole with me.”

The second oldest leaned forward and tapped his Dad’s shoulder, “Speaking of which…how come Leo got to study with April while I—”

“We.” Donnie corrected swiftly. 

“—I had to stay with these two excuses for mutants, Dad?” Raphael continued, frowning deeper as his Dad became unresponsive and became completely entranced by the radio, “Dad? Dad? Dad? Daddy? Father? Dad— aaaaand you have your 'I’m locked in to this music' face…gotchu...” The tallest turtle huffed as he sat back down in the middle seat.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted.” The youngest huffed, “I spy something…grey/gray.”

“Grey/Gray? Grey/Gray as in ashy? Ashy as in you?” Donnie smirked, his smirk turning to a smug grin as the orange banded teen glared back at him with a mix of disdain and pure disgust.  

“Donnie, I swear—”

“Is it the car seat?” Raph muttered, dying in complete humiliation about the fact that this was his onlysource of entertainment. 

Michelangelo shook his head, crossing his arms as he leaned back on the seat, “Nope. Try again.” 

“Is it…Dad’s fur?” The turtle with glasses guessed.

“Nooooooope!” The smallest mutant dragged out, sticking his tongue out at the second youngest causing Raph to just sigh, slumping in the chair further.

This car ride was going to be his 13 Reasons Why…

“Okay…seriously, though. Raph-Taff, what’s up?” Mikey asked carefully, looking over his older brother’s stiff and utterly overall unhappy demeanor. 

The second oldest just grunted, glancing away and his frown drooping as he locked eyes with his immediate younger brother, “You can tell us anything.” Donnie assured.

“Well…not everything. Almost everything. Semi-everything.” The genius clarified, “Buuuut you get the point…”

“No, no Ihi really really dohon’t...” The red banded teen grimaced. 

“What Egghead Humpty Dumpty is trying to say is that you can tell us what’s bothering you. You haven’t been your usual…let’s just say 'Sarcastic Sappy Self'.” The hazel eyed teen confirmed, biting back a chuckle as he saw his purple themed brother gasp in offense. 

“I just needa get out of here…” Raphael emphasized, rubbing his temples like he’s seen centuries worth of knowledge, “School was rough. School is annoying. Kids are annoying. Y'all are annoying— no offense.”

“None taken.” The two youngest said in sync.

“And I just need to distress…” Said the older turtle, going on his phone only to be met with a completely pitch black screen, “And my phone is dead. Yip dee doo da fuckin' day…” He cursed. 

Mikey rubbed his chin in thought, leaning on the inside door hand rest, “I have an idea for that, actually. Just trust me.”

“'I have an idea' and 'just trust me'…two words I never want to hear come out of your mouth ever again.” Donatello insisted almost immediatelty. 

“Shut up.” The smallest mutant exclaimed to his immediate older brother, inhaling and exhaling loudly before continuing, “Okay…so I spy with my little eye—“

“Seriously?” The elder mutant deadpanned. 

“Trust me, I said!!!” The younger shouted once more to try and get his point across, “I spy something…black.” 

“…Black?” The second youngest asked, tilting his head. 

“Black.” Mikey confirmed.

“Ohooo…black.” Donatello snapped his fingers, nodding as he relaxed in his seat. 

“Black!” Michelangelo beamed as Raphael looked around in confusion, wondering if his younger brother’s were going to elaborate on this whole 'black' nonsense or if they were just going to communicate via gibberish. 

The red banded teen scratched his head in confusion, “…What is happening…?”

The youngest gave his red cladded older brother a knowing look, causing the red cladded mutant in question to just simply sigh longly, “Right riiiight…trust. I got it…”

“Uhhh…” Raphael hummed, looking around the car for something…well, black; as his little brother’s so veeeeery clearly stated. 

The chocolate eyed teen raised an uncertain eye ridge, pointing at his own black sweatshirt that he was wearing. 

The purple and orange duo nodded, “See? Black!” Donnie grinned, poking his older brother’s sides and causing his older brother in question to shriek loudly and try to cover his middles, wiggling his way over more to Michelangelo. 

Whiiiiiich…was a first. 

“Yeah! Black!” The smallest mutant smirked cheeringly, prodding the other side of the black sweatshirt wearing boy, “You got it?”

“Ihihi gohohot ihihat I-Ihi gahat ihat!!” Raph said immiediatley, kicking his legs on the car floor as he pushed on the other two’s shoulder’s. “Ehhhhh…I don’t think you do…” The young genius teased lightly. 

“Dohon’t a-act smahart with me yohou l-lihittle shIHIT NO!! Mihikey nonononohoh!” He said as he saw Mikey wiggling his fingers near his neck, causing him to try and hide his face in Donnie’s shoulder, swatting the youngest away. 

“D'aww~! Hey, big bro! Need a hug~?” The scientist said innocently, wrapping the taller in a hug as the shortest of the three skittered and scratched the red banded mutant’s shell lightly; almost barelytouching it. 

The red banded mutant in question wheezed loudly, banging his fists on the car seat whilst his legs stomped up and down, “Wohohoah! Mr. Deflating Balloon Man— yohou okay?” Mikey teased, making sure to trace the patterns on his elder brother’s shell in a very veeeery mean manner. 

“Are you boys alright back there?” Splinter asked, getting out of his trance as the podcast soon and finally ended. 

“We’re fine!” Donnie beamed, wiggling his fingers into the crooks of the chocolate eyed teen’s neck right beside him, “Right, Raph?”

Raph squealed loudly with laughter, not answering.

Well…not answering in word form, perhaps.

The Father rolled his eyes fondly at his son's, looking away from the rearview mirror and focusing back on the road. 

“See!? He agrees.” The youngest beamed, “We’re perfectly fine and dandy, Dadio.”

“'Fine and dandy?'” Donnie repeated in amusement, causing the orange banded teen to almost laugh as loudly as Raph currently was.

Key word: Almost. 

“Fine and dandy.” Michelangelo confirmed, kneading his hot-headed brother’s hips and sides as the taller leaped like a drunk frog, “STAHAHOP!! HIC LEHEHET HIC HIC GOHOHOH!!!” 

“People are gonna think we’re beating you up or something by the way you’re squirming, bud.” The purple banded turtle joked, letting go of the taller teenager as the smaller teenager spidered his fingers all over his tummy.

“MIHIHIHIKEY!!!” The older wailed, pushing the other’s hands away as they slowly but surely stopped. 

The two youngest’s giggled, fist bumping each other for successfully turning Raph’s frown upside down. 

Splinter drove into the O’Neil’s driveway as Leo walked out of the front door to the apartment, waving his goodbyes to April as he got into the car. 

The eldest sat in the front seat, buckling up as their Dad drove to their home.

The blue banded teenager let out a small snort, looking towards the back to see his immediate younger brother’s face the exact same shade as his own bandana, “Jeeheez..whahat dihid I miss?” 

“I daha— hic don’t wanna tahalk ahabohout it…” Raph grumbled, his beet red blush deepening on his face as Donnie and Mikey snickered slightly, giving each other one last fist bump of victory. 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[laikiirnodel]

I stumbled across a .gif today (I've seen it before but had new thoughts so you get to hear them) (For some reason it's not showing up in tumblr .gif search for proper embedding but here's a link if you want to watch it https://tenor.com/view/star-trek-tng-data-present-wrapping-gif-22331742)

It's a scene from Star Trek: TNG where Data is opening a gift. He and five other crew members stand around a table on which there are several other gifts, all still wrapped in shiny silver paper.

He is opening the gift in his hands gently and carefully, without ripping the paper. (This is the way I open presents.)

After an awkward moment of waiting, Wes informs Data that he is "supposed to rip the wrapping off". (This is the criticism I always receive when opening presents.)

Data explains that "with the application of a little care" it is possible to open it without tearing, allowing for reuse of the paper. At this point he has concluded the wrapping removal and places the gift under his arm to leave his hands free to fold the paper neatly. The others look either exasperated or amused.

Wes says he is missing the point. Data looks at him and tears the paper in two, down the middle.

Now. This is supposed to be a scene highlighting the inhuman-ness of Data and the arbitrary-ness of the human social rules and expectations. Obviously there is a clear parallel to neurodivergence here, as I'm sure we all are or know someone who does this.

And yet I still have trouble with the tearing at the end. I couldn't let that go. Yes, it's a waste of all that effort we just went to, and ruining a perfectly functional item, but there was something else bugging me and I couldn't (metaphorically) put my finger on it until just now. And I started thinking about solutions.

Data tears it because he has been informed that there is some arbitrary social rule he was unaware of, and that the others in the room desired the paper's destruction. Even though that seemed illogical, it must be a human thing and ripping it now should make everyone happy, I guess? But it's not satisfying. It doesn't hit the same notes as tearing paper off the gift itself. The process was already completed. The tearing was a second event, not part of the original unveiling.

And I realised that part of my personal issue with tearing the paper, aside from the aforementioned logical reasons, is that it's a sensory issue. I don't like the sound in my ears, I don't like feeling the sensation in my fingers, and as a kid who read thousands of library books, there is a near-moral aversion to the tearing of paper of any kind, because it feels like destroying a book, which is of course unforgivable.

I've done paper-distressing for art projects and such. Distressing [action - synonym "weathering"] is distressing [feeling - synonym "anxiety-causing"]. I can get over it in that context because it's earmarked (oh, yeah, also earmarking aaaaaaaaaaah) for destruction. Post-apocalyptic costuming is supposed to look weathered and torn. Repaired, at the very least. The scroll sitting in a damp cave for years is gonna have rotted edges and funny spots, if it's even still intact enough to call a scroll. They're supposed to be that way. If they were pretty and nice and perfect it wouldn't be right.

The distressing [action] principle doesn't apply to gifts. Gifts are supposed to be nice. When someone gives you a present, it's in nice paper, it's supposed to be pretty. People look down on gifts wrapped "poorly" or in the 'wrong' substance. (This should also be changed btw. Presents you got in a plastic bag are just as good as presents in gold foil. Crumply brown paper with awkward tape or string has revealed some of my very favorite gifts. Thoughtful homemade stuff is awesome. Things received without wrapping at all are still gifts. I'm ranting but you get the idea.) [Also some cultures like wrapping gifts in, say, a useful cloth, such that it's actually two gifts in one. So you get an awesome handkerchief or scarf or whatever too, and that's fantastic, I love that. This post is just talking about the paper ones]

So.

I have physical and mental aversions to tearing paper. When I get a gift, I want to open it gently and carefully and have the wrapping set aside in one piece. (or however many it started with). This takes time, but gives a pleasing result. That is satisfying to me.

Other people, when they get a gift, want to tear up the outside to get to the inside. I theorize that this is some sort of latent hunting instinct, but I digress. It's fast, it doesn't require careful thought, and there must be some level of catharsis in socially-acceptable destruction, maybe even in seeing the pile of shredded remains afterwards? (let me know if you're in this group, what you find pleasing about it! I'm really curious!) Destroying the covering is satisfying to them. The latter group tends to get annoyed at how long it takes for me to unwrap things, and feel unsatisfied with the result, whether or not the present inside was cool or not. Sometimes a person has even taken the present away from me, torn off the wrapping, and then handed it back. Which, Um. I did want to open my own present actually. That was really rude. It's not yours. Especially since they didn't ask first. I've even heard people complain about gift bags (the common response in these situations, as gift bags are not destroyed in the process of revealing their contents, are usually reusable so long as the tag is swapped out, etc.) for being "too easy" or "boring".

Is there a good compromise?

Today, I thought: What if it was a two-part opening? Like, a gift bag with something rip-able to play with, or a wrapped gift with a concealing sleeve or hiding it under the table from myself or something?

So I could unwrap the gift itself, in a way that's satisfying to me, perhaps a little ahead of time so people don't get bored. And then I would hand someone else the rip-able thing and plug my ears. Everyone who wants to, gets to experience the shredding event, and then we do the big reveal! I can open the concealing sleeve or pull it out from under the table or whatever, and everyone gets to have the fun surprise of the actual present all at once!

This way, I would get to have my ritual, and protect myself from the distressing bit. Others would get the catharsis of destruction. All of us would get the exciting surprise at the end.

Do you think this would be fun? Would it hit all the fun/satisfying points for you?

Have you or someone you know done a setup like this before? How did it go? Were there any unexpected problems that came up, or surprising benefits?

Did I say something here that you never realised before that now you have to think about or do something different?

[feelo-fick]

Headcanon: Chilchuck and his Bad Takes on Literature

i think chilchuck would be like my mom in the sense that he wouldnt like sad stories. dont get me wrong, cautionary tales? absolutely fine. they serve a purpose to him which is to tell people "dont be an idiot and do this or else something bad will happen"

generally sad or angsty stories though? no point to him, and in his perspective its really confusing how people just read things that make them sad. like whats the use of reading something if its just gonna make you sad. whats the lesson? its not even real so it doesnt help anyone.

whats the point in making yourself cry when you could just avoid that entirely by not reading it at all?

but the one of the biggest reasons why sad stories exist is to let you release all the built up grief in you. to send you something to let out all your emotions in a healthy way. catharsis. empathy.

even when i dont relate to the tragic experiences in some stories, several ones ive read have lead me to realize that im in a bad situation or that im following in the footsteps of the character suffering. its like a wake up call.

and making yourself cry isnt inherently a bad thing. if crying allows you to let go of building pressure and tension in you then thats good!

but chil wouldnt see that. of course he wouldnt, hes avoidant of most situations that would allow him to release emotion, and fearful of letting his mature (read: repressed) persona slip.

hes someone that runs away to quick comforts and distractions at the earliest sign of issue. hes already been in too many horrifying situations, dealing with another is a pain. and he knows denying everything and refusing to look at the situation doesnt help, but it definitely provides a quick and easy happiness in the comfort of ignorance.

because of this, reading something made to make one empathize with and confront these bad emotions is defeating the point of his cowering. if he faces his issues, even if only through the perspective of a story, he'd have to deal with acknowledging that things are bad and need fixing, and he'd feel terrible and guilty in the moment - which of course is the worst thing that could happen to a person (his thought, not mine).

which is why i find the concept of him being/becoming a tragedy himself at the same time as this headcanon soooo interesting. imagine the irony of him bashing on the protagonists of tragic stories for acting on emotion and impulse rather than logic, when he himself has fallen victim to irrational thinking while in grief.

cause... thats what people do when they grieve. they lash out, make bad decisions, ruin themselves, ruin others.

for a tragedy to be prevented, the protagonists would have to change fundamental parts of themselves, and act perfectly rational when under extreme stress. and chilchuck holds himself to these kinds of unrealistic standards because he unwittingly believes he can handle it all.

he cant, obviously. we see it for ourselves in his relationship with his wife. they were doomed from the beginning by chils already-established avoidance and lack of emotional vulnerabiltiy (and whatever else his wife had going on).

this is all just to say that if you told him about orpheus and eurydice, he'd probably be one of those idiots trying to point out the "plot hole" that he couldve "just not looked back" and "just trusted her"

i dont understand. whats the point in reading tragedies? the protagonist is stupid, anyways. why would you take bitter medicine? why subject yourself to that?

i think its just a bad story.

[some-pers0n]

interesting ideas about AI art and by no means am I trying to send hate but I believe majority of people hate AI art is because it's truly just the byproduct of a giant plinko board bouncing through pieces of art made by artists who put love and care and SOUL into their work. A visual product of a math formula. While it's "art" in the most litteral sense, not having a true human behind it putting though and effort into its every detail, for many people (myself included) devalues it from a tradition artists work.

I'm a firm believer in the idea that AI art is inherently unequal to non Ai art, specifically for this reason. (Hope this made sense sorry if it's incoherent)

I agree in that sense there. I personally do not find myself wanting to engage in a work when I purposefully know the creator had used AI to create the entire product. Something something,,,I cannot find myself getting invested in something that is little more than a product. I don't wanna read a fic about my blorbos when it was written by Chat-GPT

I also agree with the idea that a lot of people hate AI art because of this heavily emotional, debatably reactionary mindset that stems from one thing: fairness. It's the same sort of emotion I find one gets if all of the work on a group project gets shafted onto them whilst their fellow peers sit idly by. It feels unfair to sink hours into your craft, spending all this time fighting to develop your skills and flourish as an artist, only to see someone type half a paragraph and have a machine spit back something that looks not half bad. Let's be honest with ourselves here and say that AI art, at least in a visual regard, has progressed quite a bit to the point where most of the mistakes people find can be dismissed as wonky perspective and the line art being a bit fucky, which is something a ton of artists struggle with too

People develop a sort of a superiority complex over it. I can't blame them honestly. A number of times I've felt it too when people tell me they're using Chat-GPT as though it were Google and when I see my family members and friends playing around with AI art. I gotta bite my tongue and choke back a chortle, both because it's kind of a dick move and also because I don't want to relish in this feeling. It's infectious though to feel as though you have an edge over another person just because you abstain from using Chat-GPT or whatever. Not to be all "grrgrgrr you should LOVE Chat-GPT and if you dare to say anything bad then you are EVILL!!" of course though. It's emotions. They're messy, intense, and oftentimes you don't really realize when you're feeling since you get locked into your perspective. Yet, I think it's important to realize a lot of hatred of this generative AI stems from emotions. Reactionary ideals and claims stem from emotions after all

I think ultimately what the conversation about generative AI should revolve around is about the concerns of labour. The several strikes from a while back from VFX artists and scriptwriters come to mind. They are most at stake from generative AI as tools like Chat-GPT are cheaper and more cost-effective than paying an actual employee for their time and effort. I would also mention the environmental issues, but if we were to talk about that we would also have to acknowledge the fact that so, so much water is being used up daily to generate power for servers. Hell, this post alone will probably contribute to drying up some marsh in the greater scheme of things

Anywho yada yada TL;DR: I agree yes but I also think it's important to recognize that a good chunk of your hatred to Chat-GPT stems from feeling cheated and a sense of pride and superiority over others for simply not using it. There is no quality to Chat-GPT that makes it inherently evil. I can't get upset at my grandma for sending me a photo of her and her dog that went through an AI anime filter. I can feel maybe some exhaustion when seeing a fellow classmate using Chat-GPT to write their essay, but ultimately I write my own work for the love of the game. I can get upset however at those in higher power who use it to push artists out of jobs. Chat-GPT is a tool that has its pros and cons and I think it's reductive to just basically sit there and hiss like a vampire when presented with a cross when faced with the mere word "AI", especially when your only big argument for disliking it is based purely in feeling cheated when someone types a prompt into a program and art that would've taken you seven hours to draw gets spit out in about a minute or two

[ssaalexblake]

knowing that some teenagers aren't even bothering to learn the wonderful art of bullshitting an essay is really giving me a complex about people not bothering to think in fandom... I've been here for years, i know full well how idiotic and incompetent fandom's always been at analysing whatever media it is, it's just the existence of that demon ai crap has really started haunting me.

[kohakhearts]

my landlord: the custodian said when he went in to spray your apartment he didnt see any live roaches

me: sends him a picture of the very much alive roaches currently nesting in my (literally otherwise empty!!) desk drawer

him: ok i see.

???????

[lostctrls]

i'm  tired  of  being  the  one  who  holds  it  all  together.

     *     YOU  ONLY  HAVE  YOURSELF    &    YOUR  BROTHER.    that much you know.    although your mother and father are not unkind,  you know best how     UNSTABLE    everything actually is.    you can hardly amount to anything     ———     you stay out of trouble's way and keep quiet,  lay your head low in hopes that everything will resolve itself.     you know that is not the case.     but what can you do  ?       you are smaller.    younger.     no matter how much you attempt to pick at    SCRAPS,     your efforts are in vain.    then,  this pain will simply    TRANSFER    itself to someone older.    someone with a bigger heart.     someone like asriel.     the lump that builds inside of your throat is bitter.    it tastes like bile,  like your stomach is trying to get you out of a stressful situation before it can harm you.    yet you cannot look away from his face,  cannot part from him and    LEAVE     him to experience this sadness alone.     

he only has    YOU.     while everyone departed,  you understand that you two only have each other.     reuniting is bittersweet.     a drug that makes your head spin,  you laugh over dinner and spend time catching up but after a while,  it turns harrowing.     the     TIGHTNESS    in your chest intensifies.    you steel your resolve,  rubbing the emptiness in your chest for comfort.     at least you know that it is only you and him.   

"  i'm sorry.  "      the words escape you before you even get the chance to     PROCESS    what it is that you had just spoken.     then,  you realize that you are quaking.    filled to the brim with a deep    DESIRE     to help him in all of the ways that you can but coming at a loss.    is there anything that you could even say to alleviate him of his pain  ?    a tragic tale between two siblings experiencing everything and     NOTHING    all at once.    

you were never one for sentimental embraces,  the action far too    EMOTIONAL    for your tastes yet you reach out to him.    like you want to comfort him as much as he has comforted you.     like you would do everything just to     TAKE    it all away.     and you know he cannot stay for long,  you wouldn't wish for him to do so anyway.     this agony is far too much    &    this selfishness would thwart him from truly soaring.    but for now, your weary hearts beat together as one.     just for this moment,  you long for a     MIRACLE     that will take away all of this ache.     

"  we'll get through this.  "      a promise that you intend to keep no matter what.

[teh-nos]

I think the readers overall were not keen on that final chapter but that's okay it was my first go at the 'epilogue with a baby' structure and I may have made it overly twee or something (or maybe even not twee enough, idk) and so I shall not do it next time I write a multichapter (assuming there is a next time which is something I argue with myself about because Oh So Conflicted). But either way I don't need to write any more of that fic as it is done now. Hurrah!

[yurki-posts]

Some doodles I did after finishing homework

[witheredgardenparty]

The diametrically opposed teaching styles of my two insane professors are one is simultaneously too involved while refusing to explain the extremely bizarre material and the other can ramble about his hyperfixation (cancer) for hours but will always grade generously as compensation for being nice and listening. He's just happy you're here.

[milimeters-morales]

Ganke985’s chat left unattended as Ganke goes to the bathroom so Miles sits down in Ganke’s chair and starts practicing his presentation for class tomorrow . and you need to give 200 dollars to get him to stop (he won’t)

[rose-lalondde]

pro tip: if you think you have adhd then don't start a master's program before you even get a diagnosis (also you need a stronger prescription, you have astigmatism, and reading glasses aren't gonna cut it)

[autism-criminal]

blehh I feel like I haven’t been posting enough writing Tangst but I will continue !! might take a while cause one of my AP teachers thinks that she shouldn’t teach us anything

[dawntheduckrb]

He's staring at me while I'm trying to read a journal

[eggfruit]

BTW!!!!!!! YO! AH! AH! ¡LAS ETIQUETAS POR FAVOR!!!!

[ms-demeanor]

When I was a kid I kept failing classes because I'd lose my homework. I'd finish it, but between the dining room table and the classroom it would just walk away. Sometimes it ended up in my backpack, sometimes it didn't; sometimes I finished the homework at school and it got home in my backpack but wasn't there the next day.

To attempt to address this, my parents got me a neon orange folder to put in my backpack; it was my homework folder, all homework was to go into that folder and that folder only, and it was to only come out of that folder when it was being worked on. I was to put homework in the homework folder as soon as it was assigned and if I'd worked on it, put it back in the folder as soon as it was finished. The logic here was that using the folder was supposed to be automatic, and you wanted a bright color so it wouldn't get lost in the depths of a backpack.

I think I lost about eight of those before my parents stopped buying orange folders.

So it was very frustrating to search "how to be organized at work as an adult with ADHD" only to get a list that said "set alarms and write things down and try to make friends with a more organized person" which was immediately followed by tips to help your ADHD child stay organized and the one right at the top was to put their homework in a bright folder so they couldn't lose it.

If you have been harmed by the ADHD Tips Industrial Complex you may be entitled to a packet of fun-dip and a cactus cooler as consolation for losing your homework folder again.