#very quickly

[yukitsen]

I love my Sun squish :3

[22degreehalo]

Something I see a lot in talks about AI art is something I've seen about a lot of different kinds of art: a desire to have the product reflect skill and/or talent.

Like, it reminds me so very much of how some (usually older) people react to music software. It used to be that you'd have to go the long way and spend years learning the guitar; now just anybody can simulate that sound for you and clean it all up and make it perfect!

Of course, there are many provisos to that; not anybody can open up that sort of program and put together a great-sounding song. The people who make e.g. really classic Vocaloid songs are very skilled with the program and very talented r.e. music. (And perhaps that is or will be true for AI, too: that anybody can just create a picture, but someone very skilled with a particular program can make something very specific and good!)

But it's that initial impulse that just... bothers me, a little. Because, yes, of course I understand the fear that you devoted years of your life to a subject and now it can be generated by just anyone. But why turn it around and treat it as some sort of principled, purist stance? Why does someone HAVE to devote years of their life to something to make art?

It just feels a bit. Suffering romanticisey. Either that, or making art inaccessible to ordinary people. Like 'Artists' are some inherently different kind of person.

Of course we can still value the dedication that went into specific kinds of work. Maybe that's your favourite thing about art. But doesn't it open up art to so many different kinds of people when barriers are taken away? People who can't afford to slave away for years on it? People who for some sort of physical or mental or whatever reason just can't ever really be as good with the 'traditional' process?

Again: this is not really about AI art and whether it does offer those opportunities to people. This is about the initial reaction that letting ordinary people more easily create art is somehow bad, and takes some kind of soul out of the process. But people have different capabilities; what is easy for most people is very difficult for others. Why is making art impossible for some people so important? What is so much more 'real' about art that requires very special tools, or knowledge that is barred the masses? What are we losing by letting 'untalented' people overcome certain obstacles?

[bitletsanddrabbles]

-Initial Response to Rewrites-

Oh, okay! I can do this super easy!

-Having Thought About It A Touch More-

Well, okay, no, I can't do exactly what I was thinking, but what I can do is basically just as good.

-Post First Revisions-

See? Easy peasy! Now I just need to start on the new material.

-After 24 Hours of Consideration-

... ... ... ...okay, so if I add two new volumes, plus a set of appendixes...appendices?...whatever too busy to look it up....then go on a five month quest to find the Holy Grail... ... ...

[diamondnokouzai]

"the pvp on this site is brutal" "this website's hatemail game is insane" you guys werent here from 2013-2016. they shot you if you reblogged from someone who reblogged from someone who liked kill la kill.

in fact i disabled reblogs on this post on november 14 2024 because i FUCKING HATE DREAM DADDY and im sick of seeing it in tags in my notifs.

[review-anon]

Yamato, Miu, if you want to go to Pathos, you better be prepared *She gives them a lot of stuff, like protective suits, anti-mind control helmets (To avoid Red's brainwashing), stun weaponry and provisions* That planet is a barren hell full of kaijus that could either eat you or accidentally stomp on you, so you need to be extra prepared for it.

-✨🌌✨ Anon

Oh trust me, if this book is of any indication that place is not safe whatsoever.

For starters we need to check if the atmosphere is even breathful because who knows, it might have no oxygen or toxic gases in it.

And even if the air is breathful, the book mentions a deadly fungus infection which sounds like something from The Last of Us so we probably want some kind of protection so we don't get infected.

And if that place is so fucking huge, then we probably need to grow big as well.

Which means I can step on that lying sex abortion and he'll squeal like a demented pig!

Lastly, we NEED to stablise this portal technology, as I don't think going to Pathos will be the last time we use it.

Doing something like this would be completely impossible in reality but thanks to the Voidship being well...the Voidship, we can do this!

Also I can flex on Kaito by saying I was the first one to go to space and visit an alien planet, not him!

[kazhanko-art]

sometimes entering queer spaces is like fae trap where you think you’ll be sharing hobbies and interests and suddenly you’ve learned everyone’s deepest traumas before their names

[the-real-pink-ninja]

Aurnia in her ZX (Zen eXtreme) gi. It's a bit big on her! XD

[jojaxcola]

we're like eighty percent sure that's just water

[jojamart mockumentary #2]

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[jasminebythebay]

Phoenix Wright, professional poker player 🃏

[iscratchdoors]

my touhou tips for beginners and strugglers

try not to get pushed against the very bottom of the screen. advance up through gaps in the patterns instead of waiting for them to get to you

sometimes staying still is the best option. don't panic dodge just because you can't process what's coming at you, you're very likely to just slam yourself into a bullet

practice small movements. very very small movements. no smaller than that. the smallest you possibly can. it will come in handy. do not move more than you have to

IMPORTANT: when you're done playing, imagine those women kissing. this will make it worth it whether you win or lose

[sunburstsandmoonshadows]

but will you punch 'em so hard they fly straight to japan?

[sylvermoths]

This is why it's moving around in there

[chazchaschad]

he’s such a loser nerd I love him

[humanjarvis]

it’s 12:06 when the jingle of keys tells you he’s home. 

rubbing sleep from your eyes, you straighten your nightclothes and switch on the floor lamp, lighting his path through the midnight shadows. 

zayne enters the room just as you settle on the edge of the bed. his usual greeting, tired but warm, never comes. 

he needs prompts, sometimes. conversation starters. so you give him one. “long day?” 

no response. 

“did something happen?” you try again. “i missed you today.”

still, he doesn’t answer. but he does turn around. 

and zayne stands before you, looking at you—at your lap—with skittish uncertainty. 

“i’m sorry for waking you,” he rasps quietly, eyes flitting from your face to your lap before settling on the floor. 

“i’m glad you did. i said i missed you,” you reply, letting a fond smile grace your lips. 

you don’t repeat the question—you don’t need to. 

because when your eyes meet again and you beckon him forward, zayne sinks to his knees before you and, with a shuddering sigh, lays his head across your lap. 

fighting your instincts, you resist the urge to coo at him. he’s fragile, right now. vulnerable. and if your care comes off as condescension, he’ll deem those things unsafe. 

wordlessly, you pull him to your chest, running a careful hand through his thick onyx hair. and with the way he stays, it’s clear that silence was the right move.

moments pass, but zayne doesn’t calm; his breaths quicken, his body trembles. and when a low whimper leaves him, he abruptly retreats from your warmth, blinking profusely to no avail.

catching his reddened face in gentle hands, you stare into his teary eyes, swimming in sparkling pools of hazel. when your thumbs brush his cheeks, as tender as the smile on your face, those pools overflow.

as the first tears fall, you return him to your chest, stroking his hair between soft kisses. he’s quiet like this—how else would he be?—but his faint, muffled sobs pierce your heart like the loudest wail.

you don’t keep track of how long you hold him. for as long as he needs, you just do, letting the drops seep through your shirt and into your skin. 

but as his tears dry and breaths even, zayne still won’t relax. he grows more tense, more rigid, and you can feel the heat of his apprehension—feel his unease over breaking down on you like this. 

so you talk to him. tell him about your day, your mood, your plans for tomorrow—rerouting his mind until his shoulders slump from fatigue. 

he’ll tell you when he’s ready. and until then, you’ll wait. 

lulled by the comfort of your voice, zayne nuzzles further into your chest, where the soft vibrations mix with the steady pulse of your heartbeat. 

before long, sleep consumes him. it’s dreamless.

[rockdrop]

Will you stay with me forever?

[egophiliac]

A guy who just wake up from a coma -> what did i miss?

Pomefiore was the last plot i follow before real life made me forget about our silly boys. How bad has the plot become now for our gang? Also who is that Gojo looking guy?

anon, I am so sorry and I mean this in the best way, but I do think episode 5 is the absolute funniest place to have stopped following Twst because shit starts escalating SO fast after that. episode 6 literally starts with a secret government shadow agency breaking down our doors and kidnapping students. zero to a million instantly.

and like...that's not even the zaniest thing so far? Ortho's hacked into the collective human unconscious. there's time travel (sort of). "Crowley might be Malleus' long-lost father" is a serious theory. if you'd told me any of this back pre-episode 6, I would have asked for the link to this unbelievable but highly intriguing fanfic.

also, episode 7 gave us (and then immediately took away 😔) the best character in the whole story: