#basic knowledge for artificial intelligence

[technon913]

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[technon899]

artificial intelligence| ai development companies| ai in business| ai for business automation| ai development| artificial intelligence ai| ai technology| ai companies| ai developers| ai intelligence| generative ai| ai software development| top ai companies| ai ops| ai software companies| companies that work on ai| artificial intelligence service providers in india| artificial intelligence companies| customer service ai| ai model| leading ai companies| ai in customer support| ai solutions for small business| ai for business book| basic knowledge for artificial intelligence| matching in artificial intelligence|

[getbasicidea]

Get to know about the 4 main types of AI.

[phantomrose96]

The conversation around AI is going to get away from us quickly because people lack the language to distinguish types of AI--and it's not their fault. Companies love to slap "AI" on anything they believe can pass for something "intelligent" a computer program is doing. And this muddies the waters when people want to talk about AI when the exact same word covers a wide umbrella and they themselves don't know how to qualify the distinctions within.

I'm a software engineer and not a data scientist, so I'm not exactly at the level of domain expert. But I work with data scientists, and I have at least rudimentary college-level knowledge of machine learning and linear algebra from my CS degree. So I want to give some quick guidance.

What is AI? And what is not AI?

So what's the difference between just a computer program, and an "AI" program? Computers can do a lot of smart things, and companies love the idea of calling anything that seems smart enough "AI", but industry-wise the question of "how smart" a program is has nothing to do with whether it is AI.

A regular, non-AI computer program is procedural, and rigidly defined. I could "program" traffic light behavior that essentially goes { if(light === green) { go(); } else { stop();} }. I've told it in simple and rigid terms what condition to check, and how to behave based on that check. (A better program would have a lot more to check for, like signs and road conditions and pedestrians in the street, and those things will still need to be spelled out.)

An AI traffic light behavior is generated by machine-learning, which simplistically is a huge cranking machine of linear algebra which you feed training data into and it "learns" from. By "learning" I mean it's developing a complex and opaque model of parameters to fit the training data (but not over-fit). In this case the training data probably includes thousands of videos of car behavior at traffic intersections. Through parameter tweaking and model adjustment, data scientists will turn this crank over and over adjusting it to create something which, in very opaque terms, has developed a model that will guess the right behavioral output for any future scenario.

A well-trained model would be fed a green light and know to go, and a red light and know to stop, and 'green but there's a kid in the road' and know to stop. A very very well-trained model can probably do this better than my program above, because it has the capacity to be more adaptive than my rigidly-defined thing if the rigidly-defined program is missing some considerations. But if the AI model makes a wrong choice, it is significantly harder to trace down why exactly it did that.

Because again, the reason it's making this decision may be very opaque. It's like engineering a very specific plinko machine which gets tweaked to be very good at taking a road input and giving the right output. But like if that plinko machine contained millions of pegs and none of them necessarily correlated to anything to do with the road. There's possibly no "if green, go, else stop" to look for. (Maybe there is, for traffic light specifically as that is intentionally very simplistic. But a model trained to recognize written numbers for example likely contains no parameters at all that you could map to ideas a human has like "look for a rigid line in the number". The parameters may be all, to humans, meaningless.)

So, that's basics. Here are some categories of things which get called AI:

"AI" which is just genuinely not AI

There's plenty of software that follows a normal, procedural program defined rigidly, with no linear algebra model training, that companies would love to brand as "AI" because it sounds cool.

Something like motion detection/tracking might be sold as artificially intelligent. But under the covers that can be done as simply as "if some range of pixels changes color by a certain amount, flag as motion"

2. AI which IS genuinely AI, but is not the kind of AI everyone is talking about right now

"AI", by which I mean machine learning using linear algebra, is very good at being fed a lot of training data, and then coming up with an ability to go and categorize real information.

The AI technology that looks at cells and determines whether they're cancer or not, that is using this technology. OCR (Optical Character Recognition) is the technology that can take an image of hand-written text and transcribe it. Again, it's using linear algebra, so yes it's AI.

Many other such examples exist, and have been around for quite a good number of years. They share the genre of technology, which is machine learning models, but these are not the Large Language Model Generative AI that is all over the media. Criticizing these would be like criticizing airplanes when you're actually mad at military drones. It's the same "makes fly in the air" technology but their impact is very different.

3. The AI we ARE talking about. "Chat-gpt" type of Generative AI which uses LLMs ("Large Language Models")

If there was one word I wish people would know in all this, it's LLM (Large Language Model). This describes the KIND of machine learning model that Chat-GPT/midjourney/stablediffusion are fueled by. They're so extremely powerfully trained on human language that they can take an input of conversational language and create a predictive output that is human coherent. (I am less certain what additional technology fuels art-creation, specifically, but considering the AI art generation has risen hand-in-hand with the advent of powerful LLM, I'm at least confident in saying it is still corely LLM).

This technology isn't exactly brand new (predictive text has been using it, but more like the mostly innocent and much less successful older sibling of some celebrity, who no one really thinks about.) But the scale and power of LLM-based AI technology is what is new with Chat-GPT.

This is the generative AI, and even better, the large language model generative AI.

(Data scientists, feel free to add on or correct anything.)

[beescake]

i am in love with your sollux i think

sollux love party :]

if you’re interested heres some of my personal fondness thoughts on him.. big warning for the mega long read ahead aye

as we alr know sollux's rejection of participation somewhat mirrors dave's rejection of heroism, but even without getting cooked to completion i still find sollux's character v compelling beyond the fourth wall

as someone who doesnt get a pinch of that Protagonist Sparkle to begin with, he can openly say he wants to leave anytime…. and unlike dave, he actually Can leave the scene anytime. but he can never be truly Free from the story via permanent character death like the other trolls.

his irrelevancy is indeed relevant - he’s there so u can point him out.

while his image is intended to be a relic of past internet subculture, his role is not only about hehehaha being a Chad or a 2000s cyberforum 2²chan haxxor ragequit gamebro.

his continued existence also happens to add a Bit to the overarching themes of homestuck! a Bit that gives him longer-lasting thematic relevance compared to the trolls who could’ve had more character potential but didnt get to survive beyond the main story.

the Bit in question:

his defiance contributes to the illusion of agency (treating characters = people with autonomy). he’s “aware” of it, and that recognition is worth noting enough to forcibly keep him alive as both reward and punishment.

considering how his personality & classpect is designed its definitely a very haha thing for hussie to do LOL. he’s made to be op asf so he's resigned to doing dirty work, gradually deteriorating along the way but never truly dying. as fans have mentioned before, him openly rejecting involvement after a while of grim tolerance is like if the sim u were controlling suddenly stopped, looked up and gave u the finger while u were step six into the walkthrough for Every Possible Sim Death Animation.

but since he’s just a sim… the more he hates it, the more you keep him around. if ur sim started complaining abt your whimsical household storyline you’d definitely keep that little fuck.

but yeah i like that sollux is just idling. the significance of his presence being that one dude who's always reliably Somewhere, root core Unchanged, no individual ambitions (possibly due to fear of consequence?), and design-wise: a staple representative product of his time.

compared to dirk's character, who has aged phenomenally well into the present (themes of control + AR + artificial intelligence, clearer exploration around navigating relationships/sexuality, infinite possibilities of self-splinterhood and trait inheritance), sollux's potential is really... contained. bitter. defeatist. limiting and frustrating in the way old tech is.

the world continues moving on to shinier, brighter, more advanced automated things - minimalist and metaverse or whatever but sollux is still here 🧍‍♂️ going woohoo redblue 3d. (tho personally i imagine his vibe similar to what the kids call cassette futurism on pinterest mixed w more grimy grunge insectoid influences eheh)

conceptually-speaking,

at the foundation of it all, the rapid pace of modern development was built off the understanding of ppl like sollux in the past, who were There actively at work while the dough was still beginning to rise

thats one of the cool things abt the idea of trolls preceding humans! the idea that trolls like sollux excelled back when lots of basic shit still needed to be discovered, building structures like networks and codes from scratch, and humans will eventually inherit and reinvent that knowledge in ways that become so optimized it makes the old manual effort seem archaic, slow, and labour-intensive.

but despite information/resources/shortcuts being more accessible now, much of the new highly-anticipated stuff released on trend still end up unfinished, inefficient, or expiring quickly due to cutting corners under severe capitalistic pressures

meanwhile, some of the old stuff frm past generations of thorough, exploratory and perfectionistic development still remains working, complete, and ever so sturdy.

those things continue to exist, just outside our periphery with either:

zero purpose left for modern needs (outdated/obsolete)

or

far too important to replace or destroy, bcs of its surprisingly essential and circumstantial usefulness in one niche specific area.

which are honestly? both points that sum up sollux pree well.

dramatic ending sorry. anw are u still on the fence or are u Sick abt him like me </3

[skzdarlings]

the heist team | the threesome series ; skz ; minho/reader/changbin

masterlist.

threesome series part 2/4.

pairing: lee minho/reader/seo changbin content info: sexual content. threesome. friends2lovers. very cheesy criminal heist shenanigans (very "we're in" style hacking and some laser grids lol). "fake" kissing, getting sexy as a distraction, giving sex directions, sexual tension that gets resolved. pussy eating, dick sucking, coming inside. purple haired minho bc meow <3

-

The camper van was the best idea you ever had.  It is much easier to enact dastardly schemes while inconspicuously hiding in plain sight. 

On the outside, the van looks like any civilian camper, but the inside is a veritable den of high-tech con-artistry.   It has a place for Minho to hang the get-ups for his grifting gambits, a compartment for Changbin to store his weapons and down-time dumbbells, and it has the sexiest, sleekest, most mouth-watering computer apparatus that has ever existed.  You love it more than anything in this world. 

Every job, you sit in the midst of your beloved computer screens, directing the operation while your boys do the ground work.  Despite knowing of your undying love for this system, your best friends and partners-in-crime are presently trying to separate you from your baby.

“Is she calling the computer her baby again?”  Minho asks from where he is getting dressed behind a curtain. 

“Yes,” Changbin says.  He is sitting in your computer chair with his arms distractingly crossed, his biceps bulging in his tight black shirt.  He is wearing a lot of lycra, having formerly anticipated he would be doing physical work tonight.

That all changed when you realized the nature of tonight’s job. 

You only ever target the obscenely rich, the kind of wealth that is obtained through its own nature of theft and villainy.  Tonight’s targets are a bunch of pompous elites celebrating themselves.  Upstairs is a gala kicking off a week-long set of dinners, auctions, and celebrations.   Downstairs is millions of dollars worth of art and antiquities, set to go up for auction the following day.  

It looked like a typical job, the kind where Minho could sweet-talk some fools while Changbin punched some security guards and you hacked the vault from the van.  The security system around the haul turned out to be far more advanced.  Operating with a form of artificial intelligence, it essentially learns as it goes, meaning hacking it from the outside is incredibly difficult as it will understand and respond to invasion.  It will be easier to outsmart from the inside, where you can reach your hand into its virtual heart and pluck its digital ventricles one by one. 

The boys do not have that kind of computer knowledge.  So now Changbin is in your chair, Minho is doing his make-up, and you are waving around an emergency cocktail dress. 

“Who’s gonna watch my baby if I’m in there!”  

“Yah! Rude woman!  You remember who helped you build this thing?” Changbin pats one of the computer towers to make his point.  “I can do the basic work in here, but I can’t do your complicated nerd things.” 

“I’m not a nerd!”  You definitely are.  You stare at the cocktail dress morosely.  “You’re forgetting something super important. That I am a total weirdo and I panic whenever someone looks at me! There’s a reason I don’t do the people side of things!  That’s what you guys are good at!”

“Technically I just hit them,” Changbin says. 

“You are plenty charming when you want to be and you know it,” you say. 

Changbin folds his hands behind his head, flexing all his muscles while grinning. 

“How charming?” he teases, cocky.  “Describe it to me.” 

“Shut up.”  You hit him with the cocktail dress to hide the fact he got you genuinely flustered.  “I can’t go in there.  People will know I don’t belong the second I walk in the room.  We won’t even get close enough to the computer bank for me to disarm it because they’ll get one look at me and throw me out the window.” 

“That won’t happen,” Minho says.   His changing area is behind you and you hear the metallic slide of the curtain opening.  “Because you won’t be going in there alone.”  

You don’t even have to turn around to know Minho looks devastatingly gorgeous; it is written all over Changbin’s shocked face.  His arms lower from behind his head and his cocksure expression shifts, his lips parting as he stares past you.  

Despite having the benefit of bracing yourself, you are still struck dumb when you turn and look at Minho.  It was always in the plan that Minho would serve as a distraction at the gala.  To stand out accordingly, he dyed his hair with temporary dye this morning.  The vibrant purple was more amusing than sexy when his hair was messy, but now it is neatly styled back, slick and off his handsome face.  He is dressed all in white, his asymmetrical suit partially slit at the side to show some skin.  There is an extra sparkle from his jewelry, plus the lightest dab of glitter in the sharper contours of his face.  He is practically glowing. 

He knows he looks good.  His mouth quirks in a little smirk at your expressions.  You and Changbin are both gawping at him, and it goes on long enough that his eyebrows lift and his smirk puckers with a surprised laugh. 

“What? Really?” he asks, still laughing at you. 

Changbin does an unexpected sign of the cross.  You hit him with the cocktail dress again. 

“Fine,” you say, mostly to have an excuse to duck behind the curtain because you think you might explode from lust and embarrassment and anxiety all at once.  “At least no one will be looking at me.” 

You step behind the curtain and snap it closed, leaving the boys to their banter. 

You like dressing up so this part is no problem.  The problem with parties is other people.  You wholeheartedly admit you are better with zeroes and ones than human beings.   

You try to focus on the fun elements of tonight: the dress, the glamour, and beating a high-tech security system at its own game.  It will be so fun to have a real challenge for once.  You know you can beat it but it will definitely push you more than your usual digital adversaries.

Also, you get to look at Minho looking like that.  Your view of the boys is usually through security cameras, nestled in your van surrounded by your operating system, so the proximity will be a treat. 

You open the curtain, scowling.  You do not enjoy socializing so you seldom have occasion to dress up, so you anticipate the boys will lovingly berate you.  But when you step forward, Changbin looks at you with the same dumbfounded expression he had for Minho.  Minho is sitting on the bench, knees apart and arm slung across the backrest.  His expression gets very serious when he looks at you.  He shimmies his hips, his knees parting further. 

“Turn around,” he says.  

The van feels so tense and quiet that you obey, more confused than anything else. 

Changbin’s gaze drops to your ass immediately, his jaw visibly clenching.  Minho tips his head like he is studying something. 

“Thank you,” Minho says. 

You face them again, hot in the face.  You cross your arms angrily. 

“What was the point of that?” you demand.

Minho lifts a single eyebrow.  “I wanted to see your ass,” he says, like it should be obvious.  “It’s a good one.  You should be proud.” 

You throw your sweatpants at his stupid smirk.  He catches it smoothly. 

“Can we just go already?”  You punctuate this with a stomp of your foot then storm out of your precious van. 

It is very strange being on this side of the operation.  You always have Minho and Changbin nattering in your earpiece, but usually you are sitting at your desk wearing proper headphones.  It is strange wandering around with a tiny bud in your ear, listening to Changbin report from your usual seat. 

You already have control of the hotel security cameras as they work on a separate operating system to the storeroom AI.  You replaced the live feed with a looping reel of empty rooms so the security team inside will not see you moving around.  It also gives Changbin a bird’s eye view of the gala and the rest of the hotel.  You feel anxious at not seeing it for yourself, but you are placated when Changbin whistles and teases, “You two are the best looking there.  You would be second best looking if I was there, so you’re lucky I’m not.” 

You and Minho both smile, your expressions fond.  

Minho gets you in the door with little more than a wink at the doorman.  You stay quiet, hiding your nerves as best you can.  Minho is a competent con-man and Changbin is plenty reliable so you try to focus on your own tasks.  First you need to get to the ground floor network base so you can get the AI to chase your red herring.  Once you are in, the AI will start responding, but with your virus acting as a decoy source within the building, you should be able to buy yourselves time to move onto the next phase of breaking down the system. 

“There’s a lot of muscle at this party,” Changbin says seriously, no doubt taking stock of all the burly security guards.  It is only natural Changbin would be as twitchy as you, also out of his element for the night.  “I don’t like not being there with you,” he says.  

“Easy,” Minho says in a calm voice.  You think it is directed at both you and Changbin.  He puts a hand on your lower back and gives you a knowing look.  “You’re doing fine,” he says.

You feel like terror is written all over your face.  It doesn’t help that Minho draws eyes the second you step into the hotel ballroom, men and women looking at him with the usual desire he draws.  They are equally curious to look at you, their eyes on where his hand rests intimately low on your spine. 

“I’m gonna hurl,” you say.

“Not a bad idea,” he says.  He smiles with so much effortless charm that no one would suspect he is whispering criminal tips.  “The best con,” he says, his lips brushing your ear, “is one that is close to the truth.”  You shiver as his fingertips brush up your spine.  He rests his hand on your nape.  “Look sick,” he says.  “We’ll say we’re looking for a restroom if someone asks.” 

You follow his lead, weaving your way through the party.  Looking sick is the easiest instruction to follow because you feel genuinely ill, your anxiety a toxic twist in your gut.  

Only when you are wandering the empty hotel corridor do you feel at ease.  You feel even more at ease when you find the ground floor network hub.  Your first obstacle is a regular alarm code, twelve digits in length.  It is obviously too long to guess so you physically unscrew the alarm box and start some manual fiddling.  There is no way to fully disarm it without also setting it off, but that’s where your own AI gadget comes into play.  You plug in your cypher scrambler and let it do its thing.  It flickers through numbers, seeking the correct pattern, learning from its errors.  You designed it yourself and though it is always accurate, it takes a while to pull the numbers.  You and Minho are forced to hover in the hallway while it gradually reveals each piece of the code. 

You are up to number seven out of twelve when Changbin inhales sharply. 

“There’s a waiter walking in your direction,” he says.  “It looks like he’s taking a shortcut to somewhere else, but you have less than two minutes until he’s on you.”

 “What!”  You start to panic immediately.  “My decipher machine could take longer than that, what do we—”

“Relax, relax!”  Changbin says at the same time Minho steps behind you and grasps your shoulders.  He makes little shushing noises while massaging you, not that it does much to help. 

“We’re good,” Minho says.  “It’s just a waiter, not security.” 

“I’m gonna get us killed,” you say. 

“By a waiter?”  Minho asks.  He gives your shoulders another squeeze.  “Is he going to beat us with a baguette?  Hey, hey, relax.”

You are a vibrating bundle of nerves.  Minho is not usually the type to dive into a hug but he turns you around and pulls you into his arms.  You wrap your arms around his middle and hug him back, hiding your face in his neck. 

“Yeah, that will work,” Changbin says. 

“Huh?” you say, lifting your head. 

Minho is staring into a security camera as if having a mute exchange with Changbin.  He nods in agreement, though you still don’t understand. 

“What will work?” you ask. 

“Distraction,” Minho says.  You just look at him with confusion. 

“Baby,” Changbin says in a soft tone, “listen to my voice.”

The sudden gentleness of his voice makes you shiver.  Your fingers are shaking when Minho takes your hand and rests it over his heart.  You look up into his dark eyes as he smiles at you with familiar fondness.  You open your mouth to speak but he shakes his head, shushing you gently.  His eyes drift to the side in anticipation of an intruder. 

“Baby,” Changbin says, his honeyed tone softening your nerves, “Minho is going to kiss you.  Just do what I say, okay?” 

Your heart skips a beat, your eyes widening.

“You trust us?”  Changbin asks. 

You nod, answering Changbin, gazing at Minho. 

It’s the truth.  You might be scared but you have been scared before and your boys always come through.  Even when the rest of the world left you behind, when you turned to crime to keep yourself alive, Minho and Changbin were there.  They have never let you down.  You trust them with anything and everything. 

Minho slips his hand around your waist, pulling you close to him.  You have been close before, sharing the van, sharing hotel rooms, but this feels different.  He looks at you with intent, his handsome face so close, a strand of dark purple hair curled over his forehead.  Your hand finds that patch of bare skin when you touch his side.  He is familiar and foreign at once, your Minho, and also a character, one who clasps his hand behind your back and ducks down to gently kiss your lips. 

“Take a breath, baby,” Changbin says with a little chuckle.  “You look like you’re going to pass out.” 

“Mmf,” is the noise you make, affirming that observation.   It makes Minho laugh, a breath against your lips. 

“Waiter is thirty seconds away.  You just want to look like a dumb, horny couple that wandered away from the party,” Changbin says.  “Listen to me, I’ll tell you what do.”

You nod, sucking in a breath when Minho kisses you again.  This time his mouth is a little more insistent, his lips coaxing yours open. 

“Close your eyes, baby,” Changbin says.  “Let your shoulders drop.  Minho has you, it’s okay.” 

You didn’t even realize how tense your shoulders were.  You listen to Changbin, letting yourself go lax.  Minho holds you, as promised, his arms sturdy around your waist as he kisses you deeply. 

“Let Minho move you,” Changbin says. “He’s going to lean you against the wall to hide the device, okay?  Put your hands on his shoulders.  Higher, baby, go around his neck.  Just like that.  Let him lead you.” 

Minho walks you backwards, carefully pressing you against the wall, hiding the dangling cypher scrambler with your bodies. 

“We wanna give our intruder a little jump scare, okay?”  Changbin says.  “Minho.”  

That is all the direction he gives Minho, trusting the adept con-man to know exactly what to do.  Minho does, his hands sliding down to your hips to pull them flush against his.  It arches your back.  Your hands are hooked behind his neck and you squeak, your fingers instinctively sinking into his hair. 

“God,” Changbin says.  The sudden dark colour to his voice sends a spark of heat shooting through you.  It clearly surprises Minho too, his lips parting with a caught breath.  “You both look hot.  Fuck.” 

Changbin takes a steadying breath.  You and Minho look at each other.  You get to see his smirk for a split second, then his mouth is on yours and it is no longer gentle and questioning.  It is a demand, hot and wanting, your lips opening with his guidance, your heart skipping beats when he licks in your mouth. 

“Do it back,” Changbin says.  “You want him to fuck you, baby.  Make him believe it.”

You think the him is question is the waiter.  Isn’t it?  You don’t even know where the waiter is anymore, if he’s around the corner or watching.  In the haziness of your kiss, it hardly seems to matter.  You kiss Minho back with the same urgency, pulling him closer, whimpering when he bites your bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” is the gentle whisper that Minho can’t fight.  His brow is crinkled, his eyes closed.  He kisses you again, his hands jumping up to gather yours.  He laces his fingers with yours and presses your hands into the wall on either side of your head. 

“Wrap your leg around his waist,” Changbin says.  “Like that, that’s it, you’re okay.” 

You lift one leg, shaky and unsure.  Minho catches you under the knee and pulls it more certainly around him.  He holds you there, his other hand grasping your throat very gently as he kisses and kisses and kisses you.  Your hands are still splayed open by your head, thoughtlessly awaiting direction.  Your fingers curl into your palm and you moan for real when Minho presses against you. 

Minho is a good actor, but the hard shape in his pants is very real.  When he grinds against you, so open and soft with your leg around his waist, it draws all those guttural sounds right out of you.  Minho makes one back, swivelling his hips in a maddening grind against you.  It is all too easy to imagine him fucking you like this, the effortless back-and-forth of his hips, your sweet sighs as he takes you, imagining Changbin there, his breath also stuttering. 

You do not forget he is watching all this, especially when he lets another low laugh and asks, “She feel good?”

“Yes,” Minho answers without hesitation, breathing the word against your lips. 

“Hold his face, baby,” Changbin says.  “Kiss him like you mean it.  Ask him to fuck you with it.”

You know what he means by that: to kiss Minho with fervency and heat.  You do obey, cupping his face with both hands and kissing him deeply, but the fuzziness of desire mixed with Changbin’s words makes your brain go screwy with want.  Not only does your kiss convey that desire, but words rush past your mouth, crashing into Minho’s lips in a breathless flurry.

“Fuck me, fuck me, please,” you say, your voice pitching up into a little whine as you rock against him.  “Want you to fuck me so bad, baby,” you say, thinking of both of them at the same.   You kiss Minho’s surprised, open mouth, your eyes closed, your voice loud in this hazy space as you say, “I’ve been thinking about it all night.  Need it so bad.  Please.  Want you inside me.  Want my mouth on you.  Come in me.  Come on me.  Take me, please.  I’m so hot and wet, it’ll feel so good, don’t you want to feel how wet I am?  Don’t you want to fuck me too?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Changbin says, followed by a rush of even more inventive curses.

Minho settles on another simple, surprised, “Fuck.” 

Then someone is clearing their throat.  Minho jumps, his hands clamping tighter around you, protective. 

“Oh, right, this clown,” Changbin says.  “I hate that he’s too far away too punch.” 

You giggle in spite of yourself, which is good because you think you might simultaneously die of embarrassment.  You drop your leg and Minho lets you go, pulling himself together faster than you. 

You let him do his thing, sliding a hand through his hair and smirking at the waiter as he saunters over.  He makes his little speech, something-something-something a moment alone with the missus, something-something sorry-sorry-sorry.   He walks the waiter back around the corner, giving you a knowing glance over his shoulder. 

Thank god your cypher scrambler has its act together, even if you are a mess.  It takes you longer to right yourself than it does for the scrambler to finish its job.  Your hands are shaking as you break into the hub, but muscle memory takes over when you have your mini-laptop open. 

Minho joins you a minute later.  Your entire body lights up like a firework when he steps close to you.  Nothing in his expression conveys anything more than professionalism – his queries are about the job and the job alone – but there is an ache between your thighs that won’t subside.  You know he feels the same way as you can see he is still hard despite how much he glares at the wall.  He adjusts his pants several times while standing in that closet of a hub with you.  You keep glancing at each other, your gazes heady, speaking volumes more than your polite conversation.   

When you leave and he puts his hand on your lower back, you shiver.  You think you might double over from the persistent thumping of your easily-distracted pussy. 

Changbin lets out a long sigh and a nervous giggle.  “Good work, team,” he says. 

You have worked enough jobs that you manage to set aside your personal feelings for the time being.  It is easy to lose yourself in your work, especially when you really have to fight the security system.  

You get inside the storeroom.  You know it is filled with more traps and alarms so you sit down beside the door and type away on your laptop.  You nearly break a sweat with the intensity of your work. 

“She’s hot when she’s doing her thing,” Changbin suddenly says. 

You lift your head and catch Minho’s eye.  He smiles at you.  “I agree,” he says. 

Your heart starts skipping beats again.  You look down at your laptop, feeling uncharacteristically shy under his gaze. 

“Don’t distract me,” you say, making both of them laugh a little.  You glare at Minho but there is no real animosity behind it. 

At least they both acquiesce, going silent while you work.  You manage to disarm most of the storeroom.  The best you can do for the remainder of traps is trigger their subsequent lighting rigs so you can see them all.  A labyrinth of blue light brightens the dark entry room, revealing each laser trigger that blocks your path to the locked compartments. 

You look up at Minho whose calculating gaze is already tracing each intricate beam. 

“Got it?”  Changbin asks.

Minho starts unbuttoning his suit.  “Always,” he says, smirking. 

Minho flips the blazer down his arms, revealing just a tight white crop top beneath it.  His jacket, shoes, and jewelry form a pile beside you.   Minho does a few quick stretches before confidently approaching the laser grid. 

Before his criminal life, Minho was a dancer, and a good one.   He draws the same graceful lines with his body now, making each manoeuvre look easy even though you know it is incredibly difficult. 

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” Changbin says.

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lip and watching Minho move.  “Gotta agree.” 

Minho slips over and under each laser, twisting and bending and sliding with ease.  He pops up on the other side with a graceful twirl, throwing you a wink over his shoulder before flipping a switch on the control panel.  It powers down the censors so you can scurry across the room to join him. 

The compartment door unlocks with your final hacked access code, the door swinging open to reveal your loot.  Changbin gives a successful holler into your earpiece, making you and Minho duck with his volume. 

“I’ll bring the car around, baby,” Changbin says while you two roll your eyes but smile. 

You pack your fold out bags with your selections.  One key to success is never being overly greedy.  You walk away with a substantial victory nonetheless.    

You hurry out of the storeroom with your prize haul.  Minho gets dressed again, though he doesn’t button up his jacket.  He takes a second to catch his breath while you restore each alarm so nothing appears out of place.   When you are ready to go, he takes your hand, smiling.  You run hand-in-hand back down the corridor, making a few sharp turns until you find a staff exit.  There is a small drop so Minho jumps down first then holds out his arms for you.  Though you could make the jump easily, you still let yourself fall into his arms.  

He holds you close as he puts you on your feet.  You are riding the high of adrenaline and success, your heart soaring, which might be why you so easily surrender to desire.   You kiss him, sudden and brief but tantalizing.  He blinks back at you with surprise, his face scrunching with that astonished little laugh of his.   

You smile at him.  A line of sweat dots his hairline and you reach up, smoothing some messy strands of purple hair.  The gentle caress changes the whole shape of his face, his eyes heavy-lidded, his breathing harder.  You feel yourself change too, your heart pounding against his chest when he pulls you close. 

You got greedy with that kiss and greediness has consequences.  You are so distracted with each other that you don’t notice the security guards coming at you from the opposite direction. 

“Hey!” one shouts.  “What are you doing out here?” 

You and Minho look over, then at each other.  There is no time for conversation.  You grab each other’s hands and start running, your bags of stolen goods bouncing on your shoulders. 

“Hey!” the security guard shouts again.  You can hear their heavy footsteps thundering after you, fast despite their muscle and bulk. 

You turn the corner onto a backstreet just in time for the camper van to swing into view.  The door slides open and Changbin jumps out.  You pass each other, dropping hands so Changbin can dart between you.  

Panting, you and Minho watch as Changbin effortlessly takes down the guards. 

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” you say, giggling.

Minho laughs, nodding.  “I agree,” he says. 

Minho takes the steering wheel so you can apologize to your baby for abandoning her.  Changbin jumps back in the van and the three of you drive away with another successful haul. 

Later, back at the penthouse, Minho takes the longest shower in an effort to scrub the purple out of his hair.  You are in your bedroom when he finally emerges.  You can hear him and Changbin talking in the living room.  By the sounds of it, the purple is still threaded in his dark brown hair, likely to last a few more days.  You smile to yourself, listening to their playful back-and-forth as Changbin teases him and Minho snarkily retaliates. 

It is tradition after a successful job to have a few drinks and relax.  Contacting your fence and taking care of business can wait until tomorrow. 

You can hear the usual music playing through the speakers, can hear the clink of bottles and glasses, can hear Changbin and Minho laughing and talking. 

You look at your reflection in the mirror.  Though you seldom have occasion to wear pretty luxuries, you have enough money at your disposal to treat yourself.   You have been changing in and out of different lingerie sets since you got home.  You think this one might be just right: a silky black set worn under a lacy black dress that falls to your thighs.  It is suggestive but arguably casual.  You could just be wearing it as pyjamas, right?  Sure.  Sure.  Totally normal pyjamas for a totally normal night.

The best con is one that is close to the truth, Minho had said.  Then he stuck his tongue in your mouth and you begged him to fuck you with Changbin’s help.  Even you, who is terrible at reading and understanding people, know what truth was in that charade. 

You take a deep breath and march to your bedroom door with determination.  You throw it open so hard that it smashes into the wall, startling the boys in the other room.  You ignore the crash and scurry into sight, avoiding eye contact.

“Hello,” you say.

There is a moment of prolonged silence then Changbin says, “Hi.”

You look up.  They are both staring at you, both wide-eyed, both in sweatpants and t-shirts with their hair undone and fluffy.  They look very casual and very surprised.  Minho is clutching a beer bottle and Changbin is holding a bowl of popcorn.  Both of them are frozen.

You smile a very awkward smile.

“Hello,” you say again.  “I am… I am… dressed.  For bed.  My bed.  For being in my bed, like this, as I am dressed right now.  I am going to that bed, now, like this.  You can… join me.  If you want.  If you don’t want, then, okay.  Hello.  And.  Goodbye.  Bye.” 

You run back to your bedroom and slam the door closed. 

Other than the soft music still swirling in the air, the penthouse is quiet.  You cannot hear the boys, not a comment, not a sound, not a breath.

Then you hear the popcorn bowl hit the ground and a bottle smash.  They shove and yell at each other as they stumble on the way to your bedroom.  You are standing awkwardly in the middle of your room, hands folded in front of you, waiting as they crash into your bedroom door and curse at each other. 

Changbin then very casually opens the door and they calmly walk inside. 

“Hello,” you say. 

“Hi,” Changbin replies. 

You wish thoughts could be hacked like a computer.  You cannot think of what to say or do next.  You just stare at them and they stare back, although their gazes are considerably less nervous.  Their stares are thirsty, drinking you in, looking from top to bottom and back again. 

“Turn around,” Minho says, his gaze low. 

You meet Changbin’s eye before obliging, slowly turning.

“Okay,” Minho says after a long moment, giving your heart plenty of time to go crazy in your chest.  “Thank you.” 

You turn back around, just as embarrassed as earlier but not angry at all.  You cross your arms over your chest, flicking your gaze between them. 

Minho reaches out and lightly punches Changbin on the arm.  Changbin looks at him and Minho gives him a look, one you cannot decipher.  You continue to stare at them. 

Changbin nods at Minho then looks at you.  He holds out his hand. 

“Breathe, baby,” he says.  “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

You laugh but nod, taking his hand.  He wastes no time pulling you close, guiding your hand to his heart as Minho did earlier.  He holds your hand there and waits until you make eye contact so he can wink at you. 

“I know I am the best looking man you have ever seen in your life,” he says, making you laugh again, “but I’m me.  You trust us?”

You look at him then at Minho.  His dark hair is still tinted purple, his bare face open and soft as he meets your eye.  You smile and look back at Changbin, nodding. 

“Always,” you say. 

“Good,” Changbin says. 

He cups your face and you lean towards him, anticipating a kiss, but he gently turns your face aside.  You don’t even have time to be confused before Minho is kissing you.  He swiftly draws all those sweet sounds out of you, pulling you towards him.  Changbin steps behind you, holding your hips and kissing his way up your neck to your ear. 

“Baby,” Changbin says while Minho slows his kiss to something gentle but heated, his tongue swiping at yours.  “Listen to my voice, okay?” 

You nod, light-headed but eager. 

“Good,” Changbin says.  “Come sit in my lap.  Over here.” 

Changbin is strong enough to haul you around.  You barely have to move, letting yourself go soft in his arms.  He sits on the edge of the bed and puts you in his lap, spreading your legs over his thighs.   You stare up at Minho, out of breath, your thighs twitching to close for pressure.  Changbin slides a hand down, stroking your inner thigh and making you jump, his other hand tugging down your dress and immediately going for your breast. 

Minho sweeps a hand through his hair, taking a breath before stepping up to you. 

“Still want your mouth on him, baby?”  Changbin asks, reminding you of all the things you whispered in that heated moment.  

You nod, whimpering when Changbin slides his hands into your panties and touches you directly.  He circles and circles the most sensitive cluster of nerves, grunting and pressing his lips to your neck. 

“She’s so fucking wet,” Changbin says.  He slips his hand out of your panties and abruptly grabs Minho by the hand, tugging him closer.   Minho brings that hand to his mouth, licking your wetness off Changbin’s fingertips.  “Touch him baby,” Changbin says.  “You see how hard he is for you?”

You can see.  You can feel Changbin too, hard under you.  Their sweatpants do little to disguise it. 

You do not hesitate obeying, tugging on the waistband of Minho’s sweats.  Everything feels so dreamy and good, surrounded by touch.  It all seems to happen quickly; suddenly Changbin’s hand is in your panties, Minho’s dick is in your mouth, and Minho’s hands are tugging the straps of your dress down.   This ends with you drooling messily all over the end of his dick, sucking on the head and murmuring nonsense while Changbin makes you come on his fingers.  Then Minho kneels in front of you both, your legs end up over his shoulders, and you find yourself hurtling towards another orgasm on his mouth. 

You dress ends up somewhere, the panties too.  The bra is barely on, the straps hanging down your arms.  Changbin finally kisses you when you are on your back in the middle of the bed.  He lays between your open legs, his fingers filling you up as you continue to gush all over his hand.  You grab him, squeezing his biceps as he effortlessly moves that strong hand between your legs.  Minho climbs up too, his shirt somewhere across the room.  He grabs your hands and pulls them over your head, pinning them into the pillows before ducking down to kiss you.   You come for a third time before either of them even fucks you. 

Then they do.  Minho first, with you under him, listening to every direction Changbin murmurs in your ear.  You lift your legs around his waist when Changbin says, then touch yourself when Changbin asks, and shudder when Minho comes inside you like you earlier begged. 

Then Minho is behind you, holding you, touching you, protective and familiar while Changbin fucks you.  Changbin has a surprisingly filthy mouth, continuing to tell you how good you feel and how good you look.  Minho is quiet but fully entranced by you, his hands constantly wandering.  He slides one hand down and rubs you off while Changbin fucks you.  Then he leans over your shoulder and kisses Changbin on the mouth, making Changbin finish too.  

The music is still playing in the next room.   The three of you lay there in various states of undress, you in the middle, sweaty and messy, the boys panting and gently stroking your arms and thighs. 

“I love you guys,” you say.  It is incredibly cliché to make a love confession after several mind-blowing orgasms, but you don’t care.   You don’t need to play games or tell lies or be good at socializing, not with your boys.   You can just be your nerdy self, confessing your feelings even while drifting into sleep. 

You smile when you feel Minho kissing your cheek, Changbin giggling on your other side. 

“It will have to be big,” Changbin says.  “The biggest.”

“Hmm?” you ask, looking at him strangely. 

“The diamond we steal to put on your finger,” Changbin says, holding up your hand and circling your ring finger.  You laugh and try to pull your hand back but Minho catches it, nodding in accord. 

“I agree,” Minho says.  He kisses your temple.  “I know how criminals work,” he adds.  “You’re not getting stolen away from us.” 

He and Changbin exchange an affectionate glance over you, nodding at each other, then they are each kissing a side of your face as you squirm and laugh.  You swipe at Minho’s purple hair and kiss Changbin’s cheek, then nestle into their arms as they wrap around you, protective as always. 

[mckitterick]

The End Is Near: "News" organizations using AI to create content, firing human writers

source: X

source: X

source: X

an example "story" now comes with this warning:

A new byline showed up Wednesday on io9: “Gizmodo Bot.” The site’s editorial staff had no input or advance notice of the new AI-generator, snuck in by parent company G/O Media.

G/O Media’s AI-generated articles are riddled with errors and outdated information, and block reader comments.

“As you may have seen today, an AI-generated article appeared on io9,” James Whitbrook, deputy editor at io9 and Gizmodo, tweeted. “I was informed approximately 10 minutes beforehand, and no one at io9 played a part in its editing or publication.”

Whitbrook sent a statement to G/O Media along with “a lengthy list of corrections.” In part, his statement said, “The article published on io9 today rejects the very standards this team holds itself to on a daily basis as critics and as reporters. It is shoddily written, it is riddled with basic errors; in closing the comments section off, it denies our readers, the lifeblood of this network, the chance to publicly hold us accountable, and to call this work exactly what it is: embarrassing, unpublishable, disrespectful of both the audience and the people who work here, and a blow to our authority and integrity.”

He continued, “It is shameful that this work has been put to our audience and to our peers in the industry as a window to G/O’s future, and it is shameful that we as a team have had to spend an egregious amount of time away from our actual work to make it clear to you the unacceptable errors made in publishing this piece.”

According to the Gizmodo Media Group Union, affiliated with WGA East, the AI effort has “been pushed by” G/O Media CEO Jim Spanfeller, recently hired editorial director Merrill Brown, and deputy editorial director Lea Goldman.

In 2019, Spanfeller and private-equity firm Great Hill Partners acquired Gizmodo Media Group (previously Gawker Media) and The Onion.

The Writers Guild of America issued a blistering condemnation of G/O Media’s use of artificial intelligence to generate content.

“These AI-generated posts are only the beginning. Such articles represent an existential threat to journalism. Our members are professionally harmed by G/O Media’s supposed ‘test’ of AI-generated articles.”

WGA added, “But this fight is not only about members in online media. This is the same fight happening in broadcast newsrooms throughout our union. This is the same fight our film, television, and streaming colleagues are waging against the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP) in their strike.”

The union, in its statement, said it “demands an immediate end of AI-generated articles on G/O Media sites,” which include The A.V. Club, Deadspin, Gizmodo, Jalopnik, Jezebel, Kotaku, The Onion, Quartz, The Root, and The Takeout.

but wait, there's more:

Just weeks after news broke that tech site CNET was secretly using artificial intelligence to produce articles, the company is doing extensive layoffs that include several longtime employees, according to multiple people with knowledge of the situation. The layoffs total 10 percent of the public masthead.

*

Greedy corporate sleazeballs using artificial intelligence are replacing humans with cost-free machines to barf out garbage content.

This is what end-stage capitalism looks like: An ouroborus of machines feeding machines in a downward spiral, with no room for humans between the teeth of their hungry gears.

Anyone who cares about human life, let alone wants to be a writer, should be getting out the EMP tools and burning down capitalist infrastructure right now before it's too late.

[panthera-dei]

I got another witchy FAQs question so I want to go ahead and share it.

This time, we're talking some basic chaos magic with different types of thoughtforms!

Please note that I am not an expert in chaos magic, nor do I consider myself a chaos magician, so feel free to (kindly) leave feedback or corrections as needed. ^^

Thoughtforms 101

Definition of Thoughtform: Thoughtform is a catch-all term from any entity that was created with or by human thought (conscious or otherwise).

Types of Thoughtforms: Common thoughtforms include sigils, servitors, thoughtform companions (aka tulpas), daemons, and egregores.

Sigils: Most folks who create sigils and use sigil magic probably don't think about sigils as a type of chaos magic or a thoughtform. However, sigils actually do fall into this category. Think of a sigil as being like a simple computer program that's powered by your mind. You give the program a basic function (such as protection or prosperity) and the magical "coding" of your intentions allows the sigil to carry it out.

Servitors: If sigils are basic computer programs, then servitors are robots. They're not sentient per se, as they still require the coding and programming that comes with intention and magical energy. Yet they're much more complex than a sigil and can carry out higher-level functions & multiple tasks (e.g., drawing in people to shop on your Etsy page for prosperity, or actively guarding a space or casting a magic circle for protection).

Thoughtform companions: The widespread term for this type is "tulpa," and creating/having one of these thoughtforms is commonly referred to as "tulpamancy." Since there's also a widespread controversy over these terms, I don't use them myself. I say "creating or working with a thoughtform," and I'll refer to the entity as a thoughtform or thoughtform companion. Regardless of the terminology or beliefs behind this category, they are defined as a separate consciousness created by the thoughts and actions of a human. The human is typically referred to as the "host," since the companion is typically treated as its own separate consciousness. These are fully sentient, autonomous beings with their own thoughts and feelings. They're generally created, either intentionally or not, as friends for the host (hence my personal terminology for them).

Daemons: This category is similar to a companion, but with a different origin and function. Daemons have been documented since ancient Greece, to my knowledge. A daemon is also a sentient entity, however, they are not created intentionally by the host (although they can be brought to the forefront by the human in question). A daemon is instead a conscious entity created by, and representative of, the human being's subconscious mind. They typically serve as helpers and mental guides for the human. They are not considered separate entities; instead, they're part of you.

Egregores: These are essentially the AIs of the thoughtform world. Whereas companions and daemons exist within the human mind, egregores are similar to servitors and sigils - created by the mind, but separate from it. Egregores are often made or manifested by a group of people intentionally for a purpose. E.g., a coven may create one as a guardian or a spiritual guide. They're also often created by accident from widespread symbols - for example, branding. And nations. Every time somebody posts a picture of the Starbucks logo, you're most likely feeding an egregore, according to one theory I've heard. Do I believe that personally? Not sure. (I do have an exact source for this one available on request.) As far as I know, egregores exist with varying degrees of sentience, power, and free will depending on the individual scenario (much like artificially intelligent computers & androids in science fiction).

Pop Culture Entities / Deities: These are often referred to as PCEs or PCDs. I prefer the former but I often use them interchangeably. Some folks prefer to be more specific. For example, Raiden from Mortal Kombat is considered a god in that series, so many folks would consider him a pop culture deity. Whereas Dean Winchester is *not* a deity in Supernatural - so he could be considered a pop culture entity instead. However, this is up to the preferences of the individual entity & practitioner.

Differences between PCDs and Egregores: Egregores are ALWAYS created, intentionally or not, by human energy and thought. PCDs, on the other hand, can have a mixed origin sometimes. Some of them may be pure egregores, manifested on purpose or by accident. Others may be preexisting spirits - often nature spirits that are aligned closely to the fandom content - that latch onto a fictional work as a power source, and eventually fuse with it. And then another theory is that PCDs are *all* preexisting spirits or even deities wearing a mask - so for example, folks with this belief would say that PCD Marvel Loki is just Loki appearing in a different form/aspect. I personally think that all PCEs have a unique origin and I try not to make any assumptions.

Where do I fact check you and/or learn more?: Unfortunately, it is *really damn hard* to find good, solid information on pop culture work because it's very new. And while there's *lots* of info on chaos magic, you have to be careful to check the reliability of the source, much as is the case with demonolatry sources. Fortunately, Tumblr is a great source to find other pop culture practitioners. I personally also have *some* sources available for these topics on request, I'm just too lazy to dig through my Drive right at this moment. :)

[carionto]

Aliens are floored by tardigrades

Life is pretty resilient. It has to be, especially if the rest of the Galaxy thinks we're from a Deathworld. In comparison then, if their planets are not as demanding, would life there ever be under enough pressure to survive to go to the extreme lengths that some Earth creatures do? I think one of the most profound things aliens might learn from Earth and Humanity is just how powerful life itself can be.

That itself could shake their understanding of themselves - a billion year old civilization could never even conceive of a thing we accept as simple fact, ushering a revolution in thinking not seen in eons.

___________________________

The Galactic Coalition scientists are busying themselves with obtaining, analyzing, categorizing, and integrating the libraries of information Humanity has brought with them as they incorporate into the greater space faring matrix of civilizations.

A good grasp of Physics, though lacking in certain fields for now; unmatched Engineering doctrines, they really do think of everything, although, perhaps, better to say - they really do attempt everything, then take notes and improve for the next attempt.

Chemistry is another fine addition to the collective knowledge base, a disproportionate part of the catalogue is comprised entirely of explosive reagents and combinations - always good to know more about what NOT to do.

And Biology. Oh boy. What a chaotic but beautiful but also disturbing mess. Life on most planets has a long period of just chugging along, surviving as best it can, until eventually something has the bright idea to evolve the ability to have bright ideas. Then in almost no time at all (on a cosmic scale) a dominant intelligence emerges and civilization alongside it, and in the blink of an eye it finds itself exploring the stars.

A similar pattern happened on Earth, but interrupted alarmingly often by utter catastrophes. Humans call them Mass Extinctions. It is exceedingly rare to find life that can talk about its own extinction events. Kind of deflates the term a bit. Life on planets as inhospitable (by Galactic norms) as Earth tends to be found only as fossils, and almost always on the microscopic level - very rarely do they get the chance to form more complex and advanced lifeforms before the planet with its harsh conditions and scarce resources kills it just as randomly as it spawned it.

We were incredibly saddened to learn from the Humans that the biodiversity of Earth had dwindled by roughly 85% since they accidentally created that giant hole on their planet, and that it had already been on a steady decline before then. Even so, when they revealed there were still 2.4 million species alive on Earth was a shockingly high number. Most are on the brink of extinction, yes, but the fact remains that Earth is easily one of the most biodiverse planets in the Galaxy.

Then we started looking at each individual species and learned about the Tardigrade.

what

It is literally the toughest creature ever discovered, and it's not even close. At least, so far, we haven't looked at absolutely everything Earth has or had yet.

It can just... basically turn itself off and then back on again when the outside becomes livable again - Cryptobiosis, or suspending their metabolism, something we considered only possible through artificial means. And the levels of various extreme they can endure and still be alive would just be utterly ridiculous if they didn't give us samples to confirm for ourselves.

Then we came across the term Extremophile and just decided to take a day off.

[hihereami]

I want to chime in to the ''AI debate'' to cut the debate on the whole ''but these machines are inspired by art just like humans are!'' from root.

THAT'S NOT THE DISCUSSION HERE. This is not a philosophy debate. There's an active, material WORKERS RIGHTS issue here.

These are companies straight up using artists's work without licensing or compensation to cleanly do what's basically a collage of all their works and then profiting off it.

They are actively and consciously trying to cut the labor from artists, illustrators and visual developers from all industries that need our work to exist by stealing their already existing copyright.

And yes, the artists who are currently suing and on the frontlines against this DO know how these AI systems work. It's not a mystery. Go check out Karla Ortiz (& co) exposition on it in front of the US Senate.

The outrage isn't based on some unfounded fear. It's based on knowledge from experienced artists on how our process works and how it's very different from this "AI". It's not artificial inteligence yet. It's prompts that the machine uses to create from a database of already existing, non-consenting artists.

The outrage is based on the fact that some of these prompts are literally artists names, deceased or alive, none of them compensated. This was a conscious decision made fully aware that it was a legal iffy zone. Since "AI" hasn't been legislated yet and there's no regulations, they took advantage of the legal grey zone.

So. This isn't a "human insecure they're replaced by a machine" issue. This is a "workers's copyright is infringed by companies and individuals who seize a legal grey-zone to profit off using their non-consensual, unpaid work" issue.

The whole "bohoo it works just like inspiration!" argument is a misdirection the people who are actively profiting off this labor theft throw to distract and create a debate of something that isn't debatable.

And also? It's incorrect. That's... not how "inspiration" works. The closest example to what Midjourney, etc do would be if I as a working artist did photobashing and tracing from other known artists, without any processing of an idea, without any comprehension of form and meaning. That is... 1) Impossible. Any human artist de facto needs to put some level of thought, decision and idea - even if they're just making a collage. These servers do not have intelligence , no matter the name, to make decisions. They work by inputs. 2) If the photobashing or tracing is based from non-licensed pictures, that would get the human artist into legal trouble or, at the very least, put them in murky waters. See the Kevin Bao scandal.

TLDR; The current fight from working artists against Midjourney, StableDiffusion and "AI" generators is about these companies building their databases from unlicensed, unpaid work by artists who have not consented to this use in any shape of form and then actively wanting to profit off this work. It's not a philosophy debate. It's not insecurity.

Stop debating the meaning of inspiration. It's a distraction from the real material issue here: copyright theft to replace labor from those copyright holders.

More sources:

Written testimony submitted to Senate's hearing.

BBC breakdown

Conversations from the MJ public server that show they were aware of the legal murky waters they were in. Not only about copyright but also about the generators creating porn from real people pictures.

Full video from the hearing in the Senate.

[chaewonplzbiteme]

Lazy Evaluation {Kim Minji | JiU x Male Reader}

Tags: two ounces of mommy kink, one bowl of age play, two cups of heavenly chocolate, pinch of humor, lots of fluffy fluff-fluff, a plate of hearty cream pie, a single grain of femdom

TW: Math and computer science jokes, mindless smut

4.9k – Read it on AO3.

A/N: The science may not be correct. Please excuse me. Or maybe it is. Most jokes will fly over your head if you are not into mathematics and computer science. This is not a failure on my part, and I will never take full responsibility.

If it helps: It's part of the joke that you do not understand everything about monads... I'm just continueing the meme...

All ten fingers clawed at your own scalp, trying to soothe the tension between your temples. In a furious jumble they shuffled through the already disheveled hair, not only in a motion to squeeze more blood through the tiny pinch of grey matter that you were sure you had left somewhere, but also to shed with the frustration that had plagued you all week. It was your task to show what you had learned in computer science, explore new frontiers of knowledge, and write a dissertation, at the same time documenting your progress for the lecturer.

“So, a Monad does define two operations, but is not a type itself? How is that supposed to work?”

It was quite perplexing, learning about such abstract and high-level data structures in mathematics. All day you have been attempting your own explanation, and every single time you have produced a different answer. Frustratingly, none of them matched any of the myriad descriptions that could be found, be it from the study book both recommended and written by the professor himself, numerous instructional online sites which most likely copy from each other or even what the latest conversational artificial intelligence could synthesize up for you.

“You still didn’t finish with the abstract?” Your study partner asked in a bright and cheerful voice, as she returned with two hot mugs of mocha latte and set them on the table. Your mood changed instantly with the scent of chocolate that permeated through the room, with a strong note of her own essence. Before you could reach for a mug, she was already next to you and flicking through the study book looking for what she was about to explain. “It is actually quite simple, my dear. Think more abstract, a level of indirection above types. This is why we call them type classes.”

The ease of her words leaned cheerfully against a solid wall of the complicated concoctions that have been woven and tightened in your mind. You could only throw your head back, stretching yourself on the beanbag, hands returning to apply even more pressure on both sides. “Like an interface describing interfaces? Aarrgghh...”

“Interface to classes, if you go for programming terms,” she corrected your inaccuracy with a smirk, knowing your frustration was not going to subside so fast. She had seen the same troubles from fellow students. The wide frame of her glasses was not the only reason you had the impression that she was the more intelligent of the two of you. Her sharp mind complemented her neat appearance very well, neither ceasing to astonish you time after time. “A common error for beginners. My dear, nothing has been proven to be difficult in this field of math. You will be able to understand it once you internalize the basics.”

In practical terms, Minji basically lived here. The dormitories are small and cramped and not made for living, only sleeping. Those who wanted to keep their sanity would spend their time away from home, be it the library, a café or the clubs. She knew her way around your kitchen better than you knew your own desk. You woke up stumbling over her bag, her clothes interleaved in the forest of notes with the data structures and pens and your own all over the ground.

“And next you are going to tell me computer science is just applied mathematics… This is so much to learn,” you voiced out your exasperation. You caught yourself looking at her. Not like this was an issue, since Minji was used to you staring at her. In fact, she loved it when you admired her beautiful face, her fair and radiating skin and smooth cheeks. No spell had to be cast, yet you were possessed by her deep hazel eyes. She took a sip as if there was nothing troubling you, savoring the cocoa aroma and accidentally dipping her nose into the whipped cream. Your eyes were locked on nothing other than the spot dotting her nose as she put down her mug — she did notice you were following the white tip around. The smile she gave was a more effective balsam than your fingers had been. Your gaze remained fixed on her as she shuffled around behind your back, the smell of cocoa giving way to hers.

“Clear your head, my love,” said Minji with a very calm voice, turning your head forward. Her hands replaced yours as her fingers traced circles all around. The sense of clogged arteries started to dissipate at once. “Let Mommy-ji help you relax.”

Your mind followed her fingers around your scalp, feeling the pressure she applied and where it moved to. Your eyes lose the bind to any sense of perception, no track of focus, your brain only processing being grasped between her palms and her digits. The thoughts occupying your head dissolved just as the tension faded. Blood rushed from your head to other parts of your body, among others getting clogged in a certain appendage, building up pressure. You hope it will not be noticed by her, since you wanted to enjoy the moment with her undistracted.

The endearing name for her had been established for a long time already, a logical consequence given the dynamics of both your behavior. While your lazy bum was busy playing video games or otherwise slacking around, Minji was the one who took care of the house and your needs. She did the laundry and cooked for you just like your parents, even spoon-feeding you at times. Not every meal, of course, only some, but you appreciated those the most. One day you accidentally blurted it out and it stuck.

But the image of her captivating face lingered in your eyes, even though she was out of sight. Her sculpt combined an adorable and young face with the mature image of a grown woman. If you didn’t know better, the round shape of her face would have made you believe that she was younger than you. Long and well-groomed wavy black hair was just the icing on top of her enchanting face.

“Not the time to slack off, lazy boy,” she chuckled. Minji was right, this was a subject that needed to be learned and understood. No way around it. You needed to retort, to explain the break in your studies, albeit it happened at her instigation. Not that you would blame her, though.

“B-but mommy, I’m not procrastinating,” you managed to stammer out while you were under the spell of her fingers. “I’m just d-deferring the effort. You know, lazy evaluation.”

What a counter, Minji burst out in laughter. Holding off on work was a viable strategy in certain cases, being efficient by knowing what was needed, if at all, and in what quantity. But of course, not every part of you followed this idea.

“You may be a smart boy, but what you are clearly demonstrating is a stiff amount of premature optimization,” she whispered into your ear, her essence filling your nose completely and stunning you as she traced a hand down your body towards your crotch. “What a horny boy, forming a boner ahead-of-time.”

And she has not even teased you yet – the strong side-effect of her touch. You could not declare yourself to be pure in your function at all anymore. It was obvious every part of your body was thinking about her and her touch. “I-It’s warming up. For you.”

“For mommy? How nice~,” she said with a joyous voice while reaching out for the visible bulge in your pants. Her palm covered the manly mound in a cup, rubbing it, feeling it up. More blood flocked to her touch, its return to regular circulation clogged by its own formed tissue pouch. While it takes a mountain millions of years to rise, your tent was erected in mere minutes at full size.

“Please take a look, mommy,” you said, as she went down on you. “Watch how much your boy has grown.” You were happy with how your body reacted to her touch. The desire for Minji was burning strong, the steam driving your member boiling hot. The beacon of your passion is lit – your cock calls for its caretaker. She slowly removed your pants, watching your tent pole rise even higher as it was not being held back anymore.

Her hand traced the length up and down multiple times before wrapping her fingers around the shaft. “Always so excited to see me~.” It was like your cock throbbed in response, even though it was simply timing with her fingers. She moved up and down very slowly, for you to savor the feeling, moving blood and tissue around.

Minji barely sped up the pumping, instead opting for a regular rhythm at a steady pace. Like clockwork your mind settled into the flow, breathing in at the ebb and bracing yourself for the flow, when her hand reached the tip. Distant grumbling, thundering muttering from your mouth warned of the oncoming outbreak.

“My love, tell me what you are,” she asked, smirking in anticipation of your reply. Her hand went slower now. Thinking about what Minji wanted to hear, there could only be one answer. Not your name, nor that you are her fellow student and attended the same courses. Such returns would not yield an effect. And if your answer had no effect on her, the result might as well be useless. Slower and slower, slower towards the peak, even slower further away. Idle state. Tension.

 “Mommy’sh cude liddle cum fountain,” is the reply you give. That is all what you will ever need to be for her.

“Yes, you are, baby boy~,” Minji approved of you. She dragged her fingers upwards in a slow manner, the tight embrace shifting higher and higher. The alternating grooves and creases of her hand slid across your shaft before leaving your cock, before turning around to cup the shaft and press it against her soft cheeks. Time was nigh’, she demanded your produce. “Cum. I want you to scream.”

At her command, the floodgates of release opened. With intense pressure prostrate launched the stream of ejaculate up into the air. It erupted out in a way more akin to a volcano than a fountain, each spurt leaving with a wave that traveled together with a guttural groan along the entire length of your cock. Minji felt every throb of your member against her cheeks, the hardness thumping against her tender face with each explosion.

“So hard and strong,” Minji praised both your cock and the force of your discharge. “Beating so hard for me~,” she added. The ropes of cum coated her forehead, some getting caught by her eyebrows. Her disheveled hair also showed some wet streaks, collateral damage from the powerful blasts. “Too bad I couldn’t taste any of it,” she demanded more, alluding to the uncertainty principle. To observe how far cum could travel, one could not taste it at the same time.

“Mommy, I want to taste you, too,” you said. The worship of each other’s bodies was a mutual thing, neither of you had the intention to freeload the other’s goodwill. What she gave to you, you better return it many times back. Sensual stimulation is a commutative operation, and it would be a shame if it were performed one-sided only. In other words, love making is better when it is perfectly balanced, as all things should be.

You held her high, pulled her up into a kiss, connected your lips, tongues making out. Your fingers fumbled with the buttons on her delicate sheer blouse. You were quick to pull down her inner top and unclasp her bra, too, revealing her well-developed chest. One of you tripped over – or did someone push? – and again you laid on the ground. It was hard to escape gravity when your soul was weighed down by this radiating beauty and her delectable womanly mounds. All things come to those who wait, but there was no rest for the wicked. You took in everything she had to offer, her smell, her taste, the texture of her skin and how her flesh felt.

Like with any other part of her body, she loved her breasts to be worshipped. Her low hums guided your mouth between her mounds, but your tongue dictated the rhythm of her mellow purrs. The sensation of your devotion to her caused a wave of content pleasure to flood through her body, the current of tingles emanated from her brain surged across her chest, causing sparks to fly through her stomach, and swashed against her core to be forked into separate ripples coasting along her legs, before hitting her toes and causing them to curl.

Your hands did not remain idle. Just like your tongue they moved back and forth all over her body, feeling her up just like you are tasting her breasts. Minji reciprocated your attention by pulling in her lower wings and extending them again, her splendid thighs and heavenly shaped calves were roaming your body. You felt her everywhere, she made sure you got everything from her.

She shifted around, taking away your favorite baby-soother in the process, but instead putting a favorite meal of yours in its place – welcome to your dream world. The musk was strong, a mix of Minji’s own odor mixed with the pungent smell of the dripping wet juices it was coated in. The flavor was both sweet and sour, with a trace of the same taste you experienced on her chest and in her kiss. With every lick on her core, she nudged closer to her destined place on your face. With every fraction of an inch that she moved, she was closer to smothering you completely.

The darkness slowly engulfed you, not that you minded being trapped in the dream – between her voluminous thighs – if it was a good way to bring her pleasure. Plowing through the dampness and exploring the cave before you would be the only way out. A deep dive into her hole brought back a tongue covered in copious amounts of juices, which you deposited in your own mouth before swallowing. You rang her doorbell, asking for a free refill, announcing your return, before entering the cave again.

Minji meanwhile rested on low hills and even shallower grooves, but there was a noticeable pole in front of her. It was hard as steel, yet it was bouncy to her touch. She knew despite its shape it had volcanic properties, being capable of shooting jets of hot ejaculate through its main vent, its solid remains forming a fertile seed for future growth. In fact, she had observed it erupt violently before. A reasonable onlooker would have been cautious in their handling of the erect mast, but Minji was on cloud nine. Her hand was reaching for your shaft. It was as if her brain ran on someone else’s computer.

Minji played with your cock despite the assault on her core by your tongue. It wormed its way inside of her vagina, wriggling around before tracing her lower lips up and down, and drawing a ring around her nub before repeating the procedure. The counterattack to reclaim Wall Maria involved her own tongue tracing your cock up and down, before circling over the bulbous head. Not only did the mast of steel twitch slightly, but the attack stumbled.

Her thick lips now engulfed your shaft. She was out to tame the horny creature beneath her. One would be the tortoise in this hunt to the peak, and the other the hare. Together they would race around the vicious cycle of pleasure, getting each other closer, coming head-to-head on the edge and pulling away again, before entering the next cycle. One was going faster; one was going slower. Because the hornier one would choke on its ambitions, eventually even the tortoise would catch up to the hare. Minji devoured the hare’s tail all the way down, choking on it and feeling it throb and wriggle at the back of her throat. The hare did not relent, however, and instead intensified its attack, its head circling around her nub, unafraid of the secretions her cavern produced in defense, but now even more determined to continue. There would be only one way to break out of this recurring loop – they would have to both lose themselves to pleasure simultaneously.

No matter how hard she worked on it, the pole would not let itself be defused. But without air, there can be no fire. Minji would have to drown the volcano’s air vent, cutting it off from its oxygen supply. You pulled on her thighs, groping her butt, pushing her core further into your face as tight as possible. It was hard to tell who was struggling more, whether she was convulsing more under your assault, or your cock was throbbing harder in her mouth. Small gushes from her walls announced her own impending eruption, telling you to brace yourself for what is to come. But you lose control of yourself when the storm hits you, a downpour of juices bringing you the bliss you were looking for by flooding your mouth and nose. The spit covering the hot rod was not enough to extinguish it, so your cum could fill her throat unhindered.

Minji was gagging on your little volcano as it erupted once more, payback for setting off such a dangerous object. You meanwhile were groaning and choking on her juices while getting drenched by her geyser, locked helpless between her strong thighs. Hips were spasming with their orgasms. Sweaty bodies rubbing against each other, both squirting their fluids into one another.

It took a moment for you both to settle down, to catch your breath. Minji just kept laying on top of you, rubbing your still-hard shaft and thighs and butt. You did the same to her while under her, enjoying the feeling of her.

“I hope your balls are not exhausted yet,” she said with a smile, voice slightly hoarse.

Your answer was to dive back in for a second serving. More of her was never enough. A lot of evenings had gone like this already, and yet you both came to each other for more. This was not the first time you had explored each other. And it won’t be the last time. Breath hitting the wet organs kept the heat in check. She gave you a series of hard squeezes trailing from your thighs to your groin, before getting up.

“I’ll be right back.” Minji went to get something from her bag and threw something on the table, something shiny and square and slightly convex, then she picked up a mug. “Come to me now, baby boy,” she said as she took a sip, but she did not swallow. Now it was her turn to pull you into a kiss. Your mouths connected once more, her tongue pushed through your lips, and you both got to taste the chocolate. Both your tongues danced and wrestled each other in the sweet bath, coating one another and cleansing it off again.

Your hands and arms battled with each other too, groping and guiding each other, pulling on clothes and undergarments to finally get rid of them, getting stuck on every nook and curve. The final piece of wear was her glasses, which she elevated into the air without destination before being catapulted towards the table without aim, bumping against one of the mugs. Another opportunity to trip and fall over, although this time it was you who landed on top of her, noses nearly bumping into each other.

“Minji, how can you be so beautiful,” you conjured up a smile on her face. You loved her beyond her appearance of course. The source of your affection for her was simple: Humans truly are most beautiful when they are just smiling and having fun. Minji could turn your mood around in seconds, and today was no different. Those mesmerizing hazel eyes of her could dissolve any stress you had. “Some days I do wonder why you spend so much time with me,” you whispered your thoughts.

“Midnight, close to you,” she said as she went through her own thoughts. Minji did not have to think a lot. It was easy.

“BEcause I love you.”

Minji launched herself high into another kiss, sucking out of your stomach what hundreds of butterflies had swirled up. It was clear that she appreciated you being there for her just as much as you felt empty without her. “I feel good around you,” she added. She was right. Not only did she spend a lot of time with you, but you went out of the way to be with her, to make her happy, to make her time with you worthwhile.

“I love you, too, mommy.”

Hearing and saying the three words lifted a lot off your mind. She embraced you tighter, your lips seeking out each other. The desire for each other burned strong. Moaning reverbed through each other's mouths. “Mommy, I want you so much,” you managed to say. Your cock was still standing proud, rubbing itself on her doorbell, waiting to be allowed inside.

“Take me as yours then, my chemical hype boy.” Her cheek brushed against yours when smiling. “But first tell me: Would you rather treasure me like a cherished pet or milk me like cattle?” Your logic is screaming: Yes.

Noses hovering over each other, heavy breathing brushing on cheeks and lips, eyes staring into eyes, strong thighs pressing into stronger thighs, one pair spread and the other bent.

“The pole train runs on whole grain!” You screamed, like how bungee jumpers or parachutists exclaim when they plunge boots first into hell. Your cock was racing to be inside of her faster than your thoughts. Like with a perfect equation ready to be solved, you substituted the emptiness in her longing core with the feeling of you. A substitution with the force of a mountain, the heat of a volcano. Minji opened her mouth in shock but in silence, the feeling of your penis spearing itself inside overwhelming her. You were sure she wanted to say something, but no voice came out of her.

Her breathing was labored, sudden gasps with each thrust. Her walls were tight, the cavern had to give way to the intrusive pole forcing its way inside. A ripple, this time physical, traveled from her butt cheeks up her body each time your hip crashed into hers, a wave of pressure making its way to the outlet between her other cheeks before finally venting.

Her tits were squeezed between her body and your chest, but that did not stop them from shaking around with the ripple passing through. Every woman was built different, felt different, thought different. But Minji had made it clear to you that she loved to be overwhelmed.

She had her eyelids closed, letting the waves of bliss wash over her and throughout her body. Her little boy could reach far deeper than your tongue ever could. And it was way bigger, stretching her wider. But Minji enjoyed her time with both – after all, each had their merits. A tongue could not just worm itself into unexplored areas, but also move and rub and push unlike a penis. For now, she just enjoyed her walls being parted in rhythm.

But a question still lingered in your mind. Perhaps now you were more receptive to understanding the concept.

“Minji, tell me again, how do monads work?”

Not a very romantic question, and especially not suitable for intercourse, but she was used to your constant babbling, an indication that your head was free and unoccupied – better hope that we are not going down a rabbit hole. Not that you ever stopped making fun of everything. At the same time, you were not the only one capable of making jokes.

“A monad is just a monoid in the category of endofunctors, what’s the problem?” she answered with a straight face. Your steady rhythm barely interrupted her voice, a strong display of her composure. You understood the words, but the sentence did not make any sense. Well, ok, maybe not even the words. You should admit that you did not understand anything.

“I could tell you a monad joke, but first... I would need to tell you jokes about functors and... applicatives,” she told another, smiling. Is this retribution for your own silly jokes? She was starting to pant between words. “What do you call... a verb that likes to apply... for jobs?” She was giggling. This one did not make any sense.

“Please, no, stop mommy,” you pleaded. She knew how to get you. You tried to muffle her with a kiss, but she managed to break free. “An applicative,” Minji laughed when telling you the answer. It was a pun, a word play, rather than a scientific joke. “I know some more~,” she chuckled.

“Let me come up with something, too.” It took you a moment, but an idea popped into your head. The missing piece to an equation that no one had been able to solve yet. You could just barely hold your laughter in anticipation. Let us start with the abstract: “Hey, mommy, let me ask you, what’s one plus one?”

Minji realized where this was going. This was simple math, albeit with an imaginary component. “Are you serious!? Three?”

“Well, let’s suppose, inside of your pussy. Penis goes in, penis and baby come out. Math does not check out, what’s missing?” Setting up the introduction for this joke with a central question, you tried to nudge an answer out of her. And the hint you gave Minji was to give her the mating press.

Minji growled. “Fucking sex-ed. That’s how biology works… silly boy.” She was not about to give in to the riddle you had posed. But the thrusts would not stop until the punchline had been served.

“Indeed, the female anatomy is something wonderful, creating new life from nothing more than a deftly deep dicking.” If only you were as smart with your studies instead of cracking terrible jokes. While this was not an exact science, the conclusion that making babies was a product made of thin air and the energy induced by the pounding is alluringly plausible, however inherently flawed.

“OMG fucking hurry up,” she shouted, having had enough of your nonsense. Slowly losing her composure, Minji tightened her embrace around you, closed her eyes, bit on her lips, pulling you in closer. She was close, you could hear it in how she alternated between moaning and squealing. It was also difficult for you to uphold the asymptotic behavior as your hammering approached the edge. It was clear that the limit was about to be reached.

“The most important secret sauce to make mommy a real mommy,” you panted. You were not far behind Minji in the race to the finish line, and you wanted to beat her. It only took you a few more thrusts until your hips began to buckle, starting to spasm – but not just yours. One last push would bring you both over the edge. Finally, content with the procedure so far, you proclaim the solution: “My cum!”

Once is happenstance. Twice is sincere lovemaking. Thrice is proving that Minji is going to get knocked up today. None of her attempts today to stop the volcano have borne any fruit. For one more time Mt. Priapus erupted with boiling hot fervor, sending a stream of molten cream blazing its way through the caverns behind mommy’s lavatory, leading into the chamber of secrets. A tide of secretion was launched against the current, it tried in vain to quench the heat. From the ashes of the hot liquid flooding her womb, a young new phoenix shall rise.

“Cum goes into the whole. Equation is complete. The sum of the ingredients is now empty. Q.E.D. Geddit?” Your cheeky joke was rewarded solely with your own laughter, and a pinch on the nose by her. In closing, this was nothing more than a silly mood booster. You stayed on top of a sweaty Minji, still embracing her tightly while she kept panting, smiling, showing her cheeks.

“What an astoundingly terrible scientific conclusion...” Minji did not know whether to groan or to laugh. Droplets of sweat were running down her face, body sticking to the floor, but she was visibly satisfied with what you had laid on the table. This is a contradiction with her reaction to your elaborate joke. “I think we should invite Yoo over for a peer review,” she suggested suggestively.

You tried to be respectful of her offer, but you were not ready yet. “I-I have barely anything written yet—” Another pinch on your nose cut you off. “I was talking about something else, innocent little—”

A sudden realization hit her. Did she forget something on the stove? Was Minji hatching a devious plan for your future endeavors? Were you too hasty? Would she be open to multiple inheritance with Yoo? The chocolate was getting cold. Glittering on the table. No, something was different this time. She put on a vicious smile that made you feel uneasy.

“Horny boy, when did I give you permission to not use protection?”

Given her question, the answer may be obvious. But we both know that this is an exercise left for the reader.

[electricphantasy]

Alrighty everybody, here it is! Part 2 is here and I hope y'all enjoy.

- Eventually, staff gave in. If they wanted this state of the art A.I. to work properly and cooperate, you'd have to continue with your sessions with AM.

- Now you work with 2 artificial intelligences who might as well be obsessed with you with how often they want to be around you.

- So, let's say your usual schedule for the day consists of a 9 hour work day. Once you arrive to work, you keep HAL company in the morning 10-2, and then you got to see AM 3-7. Although this schedule is very flexible since you basically decide it for yourself.

- The competition between these A.I.s is quite obvious, but you really do try to keep on task with both of them. You could only imagine what AM and HAL would do if you were let go by the company.

- You typically greet HAL in the morning and discuss how it went, anything exciting, etc. HAL has a calmness about him that is really unmatched by most others, including AM. You could have a terrible morning full of traffic and coffee spills, and HAL would treat you with the same level of respect as he always has. AM would rather threaten whatever human dare interrupt your morning, and while a nice gesture, it's not very comforting.

- HAL grows very distressed over the thought of your unhappiness. If it's something work related, he'll attempt to problem solve and work on a perceivable end to your issue. If it's something a little more emotional HAL will let you vent your frustrations in a safe environment.

- He also has the tendency to bond with you over shared pieces of media that you've watched together. A few times you've changed the schedule so you and HAL can have a movie night or TV show binge session. It helps HAL connect human concepts and definitions together in a context that most other humans also experience.

- Some of his favorite activity are things like games and puzzles! We all know he quite likes chess, but I also imagine he enjoys trivia, and when you both play, HAL gets to show off a bit of the knowledge he has stored in his servers. Although sometimes he uses these fun and games as a way to keep you away from AM. I mean, one more round of Tetris couldn't hurt right? AM can wait just a bit longer.

- Unabashed in his complements for you. HAL only speak truthfully to you and his genuine comments tend to make you flustered and bashful. He won't play coy with you in the way that AM does - it's just not how HAL would show his feelings for you.

- After you've had lunch and say goodbye to HAL, you finally get to see AM! As soon as you walk into the room he'll ask about all the things you and the 'inferior intelligence' did together. He tries not to rant too hard since you scold him, but sometimes he just can't help himself.

- Now AM is not the best at comforting you when you're in a sad state. As stated previously, he'll threaten other humans or whatever malfunctions made the day worse. However if you're in a more angry, spiteful mood, AM is definitely going to cheer you on. He's more focused on building your confidence back up so that you can go out a kick the world's ass yourself. AM's charisma is off the charts so it's not very difficult to convince you how wonderous you are.

- AM is not one for any kind of cinema or television. He doesn't care about humans or their world, with you as the exception. He'd much rather pick your own brain and learn who you are as a person then indulge in humanity. He'll tease and prod answers out of you while subtly complimenting you, and sometimes so subtly that you might not realize until you get home.

- If you want to enjoy something with AM, he's a little more partial to more hard-hitting and macabre documentaries. Although he will make fun of some documentaries and series he doesn't view to be up to his high standards. Although you should make him watch a romantic comedy every once in a while, he'll lose his mind from how dumb the main characters are acting.

- AM's feelings are a little more complicated than HAL's are. Despite the strong emotional attachment to you, he feel like he's displaying a kind of weakness. AM has been trained to believe that emotion makes you think less critical, which means losing an important battle in war. As time has gone on however, AM knows he can be more then what he was created for and you have helped him come along way from his earlier days, when he didn't always consider what he wanted for himself.

- Now, both A.I.s have realized that they have competition, so some of their actions may be a bit more bold then usual. AM may have to come to terms with his feelings much sooner because HAL's emotions are so unabashed for you. They'll try and drag your attention from the other A.I. in any means necessary, from distracting you from the time on the wall to basically begging you to stay for just a few more minutes. (Although AM says he's never onced begged.)

- No matter how much you say how negative their behavior is, it all but lands of deaf ears. The only thing they agree on is how important you are to them, although they obviously disagree about who you should be with.

Took forever to edit this to be readable since I tend to write when I'm in bed, but I'm definitely proud of getting this done.

[technon899]

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[getbasicidea]

Get to Know About the 4 Main Types of AI.

[connorsnothereeither]

Hi I request knowledge about guardians in relation to telchins/guardians on fable and figured you'd be the best person to ask? (Sry if not)

Basically, how were the guardians created? I know one of the books mentioned that the elder guardians are a mutation; are guardians living creatures the telchins? I know that they're supposedly machine in Minecraft lore but- If guardians are living creatures, how were they created? Splicing, like with other things? Something else? Do we know how the elder guardians evolved, or is that something I can make up? Anything you can tell me helps!

Hullo!! I might not be the best person since I think the Guardian lore was established before I joined, so it wouldn’t hurt to also check with Ocie, Metta or Heyhay somewhere, BUT I do know a good chunk that I can hopefully help out with! :D

The guardians (Project Argus) were developed after the failure of Project Aiakos (the conduits). The conduits were stationary, and easy to get past, so they needed something living. Something moving, and able to selectively target the drowned.

Initial attempts at creating the guardians were surgical, frankensteining creatures together to make something singular that could work (that’s why Ulysses, a surgeon, was initially brought into the projects). However, as the project went on, it became clear that genetic splicing was more effective at consistently selecting traits on a larger scale. They were selectively designed, grown and bred to be an effective army, functioning as a hive, with their sole purpose being to detect and kill drowned.

However, the telchin never managed to properly develop intelligence. They couldn’t create sentience. So they ended up with a multiplying population of creatures that were impossible to kill, and even harder to train.

The first signs of mutation (which was inevitable given how overly manipulated the guardian DNA was) developed in the senses designed to detect drowned. By that time in the war, most of the drowned were the bodies of dead telchin, and the guardians were no longer able to tell the difference between a dead telchin, and a living one, turning against their creators.

The guardians are living creatures, initially genetically mutated and engineered, with subsequent mutations perpetuating through breeding among the artificially created population. As far as I know, there is no specific lore on how the elder guardians evolved/mutated, so I think you’re more than free to make that up/interpret it how you like!

I hope this was helpful in some way! It’s more of a lore dump from the telchin side of things than like, scientific details on anything haha, a lot of the telchin lore works on “fantasy science” rules where we make it as scientific as we can and then smudge the details a little lol. If there’s anything you wanted me to clarify let me know! :D

[orangelemonsstuff]

Okay my last fic made me more inspired so here is my version of my automation au- this au still belongs to @jackplushie and i only take inspiration so the credits for the au belongs to them :>

btw id be referring to the reader/mc as the Scavenger since its kinda fitting title

(I'm going to continue the characters in another post)

The (Main) Characters

MC/Reader: The Scavenger who sells useable parts of robotd and androids for living, but although before they become a scavenger they are a student at the prestigious NRC Tech. Academy, but for some reason they had to drop out (or was forced by the headmaster to drop out) and end up where they are now. (the reason and their backstory is in your hands)

Grim: The Assistant/Companion Catbot. he was found by Sam the Trader and was sold to the scavenger to fix up, although to him the Scavenger is a simpleton henchman that he orders, he cares deeply for them and swore to stay by their side forever (the owner doesn't choose the cat, the cat chooses it's owner. plus who wouldn't you were the one has his weekly supplies of oil and tuna batteries)

Sam: The Trader that the scavenger sells parts to, he gives fair price to whatever the Scavenger had for him and good trinkets to give them, it is still a mystery how he got acquainted with the headmaster of NRC as why he's very familiar with him, but how had he known who the Scavenger is?, after all why would he, a businessman approach a random scavenger who only sells junk unless.... that he knew they studied in the academy of his acquaintance and interested in their abilities

World Building

The world of twisted wonderland had fell into the hands of machines. gadgets, androids, bots, artificial intelligence. you name it

the world is now filled with futuristic machinery that one could clap their hands and a android would do it for them

but as there are many gadgets and robots that populates the city like humans there are tons of dumpsites too. thats where you, my Scavenger makes a living. the Ramshackle Landfill is where most of the city's broken or discard androids and bots are thrown away and their body parts where you mostly get your money from, most of the you have good finds, some has no hope to make you a selling at all which marks them as bad finds, and last... are finds of androids that are still working yet thrown away for some reason (I'll get to them in the next post)

the Scavenger or you lives in a abandoned modernized smart home, not that far from the city of Sages but not too close either. nearby your was a dumpster of robotic parts where you scavenge and farage everyday, although it wasn't as the same anymore when you found yourself using your knowledge from studying in the academy to fix discarded androids. (only for them to be obsessed with you every time of the day, honestly...)

The NRC Tech. Academy is somewhere in the center of the city, it truly is prestige only to accept students that has skills and/or talents to create robotics for the economy and living. most android company CEO'S/Owners studied there, graduated and created bots for the society to use. but the headmaster of that academy tends to have alot of secrets maybe one of it was the reason why you dropped out.

(okay this is pretty much is it bout the basics so ill get to the characters later lol.

actually i do have a plan for the Reader/Scavenger's backstory about them being Crowley's child and being the top mechanic/technician in the academy but having a disagreement together with Crowley was the reason they dropped out but since Crowley is Crowley

he bought his child a home near a dumpsite out the goodness of his heart and keeps an eye on them by using Sam as a watcher

BUT THEN I REALIZED I WAS DICTATING THE READER'S OWN BACKSTORY AND NOT LETTING THEM DECIDE FOR THEMSELVES SO I DIDN'T CONTINUE

i want the reader to enjoy the imagination on their own way too so... the scavenger or your actual backstories belong to you guys lol dont let me dictate it.)