#AI text conversion for assignments

[tryslat]

Difference Between Manually Humanizing AI Text vs Using an AI To Human Text Converter

AI-generated content has become increasingly prevalent. Whether for academic writing, blog posts, or content marketing, AI-generated text can serve as a quick starting point for various writing tasks. However, there’s a clear distinction between manually humanizing AI text and using a reliable AI to human text converter. AI To Human Text Converter offers an efficient, free tool to convert AI-generated text into human-like content without compromising meaning, making it a must-have resource for content creators, students, and professionals.

What is AI to Human Text Conversion?

AI to human text conversion refers to transforming machine-generated content into natural, human-readable text. AI-generated text is often monotonous, lacks engagement, and reads robotically, making it necessary to humanize it for professional use.

When it comes to humanizing AI text, there are two approaches:

Manual Humanization: Manually refining the content by rewriting it, adjusting tone, and improving readability.

Using an AI To Human Text Converter: Automating the process with a specialized tool that instantly converts AI-generated text into a more natural-sounding format.

Let’s explore the differences between these two methods.

Manual Humanization of AI Text

Manually humanizing AI text can be effective but comes with its own set of challenges.

Speed: Manually editing and rewriting AI-generated content is time-consuming. It requires a keen understanding of tone, context, and structure to make the text flow naturally.

Complexity: Manually humanizing text demands a high level of effort and expertise. You need to rephrase sentences, break down robotic language, and ensure that the text makes sense while retaining its original meaning.

Security Risks: When manually humanizing AI text, especially if it's sensitive content, the risk of human error increases. There’s always a chance that important details could be misrepresented or misunderstood.

Limitations: Manually refining large volumes of AI-generated text is often overwhelming. This method is not ideal for those who need to process substantial content within tight deadlines.

Using an AI To Human Text Converter

Conversely, an AI To Human Text Converter automates the entire process and offers several benefits over manual humanization.

Speed: Converting AI-generated text into human-readable content is nearly instantaneous with a tool like AI To Human Text Converter. Instead of spending hours manually editing content, users can generate human-like text in seconds.

Simplicity: The tool’s user interface is straightforward, requiring no prior knowledge or expertise to use effectively. Just paste the AI-generated text, click convert, and you’re done!

Security: Since the conversion happens without the need for third-party apps or plugins, security risks are minimized. The tool allows users to safely convert any content while ensuring confidentiality.

No Limitations: With AI To Human Text Converter, there are no usage limits. You can convert as much AI text as needed without worrying about word counts, logins, or subscription fees.

Completely Free: Unlike many online tools that charge for premium access or impose restrictions on free versions, AI To Human Text Converter is entirely free with unlimited usage. No login, signup, or subscription is required.

Key Features Comparison

FeaturesManual Humanize AI TextAI To Human Text ConverterConversion of AI-Generated ContentAvailableAvailableUser InterfaceNot ApplicableStraightforwardSpeedSlowerExtremely FastSecurity RiskRisk-proneSecureUsage LimitationsLimitedUnlimited

Why Use AI To Human Text Converter?

If you’re tired of spending hours trying to manually humanize AI-generated content or need a quick, efficient way to transform robotic text into something engaging and natural, AI To Human Text Converter is the perfect solution. Here’s why it’s the best choice for you:

Free of Cost: The tool is 100% free with no hidden charges. Convert as much text as you need without worrying about subscriptions or limits.

No Authentication Required: There’s no need to sign up or log in. The tool is ready for immediate use.

Unlimited Usage: Whether you’re working on a single article or hundreds of pages, AI To Human Text Converter allows you to convert unlimited content.

Quick and Accurate: Get your AI-generated content humanized in seconds, with natural flow and readability.

Ideal for Multiple Applications: Whether it’s for assignments, essays, marketing materials, or blog posts, this tool ensures your text is suitable for any professional setting.

Why Manual Humanization is Not Always Practical

While manually humanizing AI-generated text can yield good results, it’s often impractical. Here’s why:

Time-Consuming: If you have large volumes of text, manually refining it will take too long. For students or professionals working on tight deadlines, this isn’t a viable solution.

Inconsistency: Manually humanizing content introduces the risk of inconsistencies. What may seem like a minor adjustment to one part of the text might lead to inconsistencies in tone or style.

Increased Effort: Editing AI content manually requires considerable effort, especially for non-professionals who may struggle with rewriting sections effectively.

Choosing between manually humanizing AI text and using an AI to human text converter depends on your needs, time constraints, and the volume of content you’re working with. For anyone looking to save time and effort, AI To Human Text Converter is an invaluable tool. It simplifies the process, delivers human-like text instantly, and comes with no cost or limitations.

Try AI To Human Text Converter today, and discover how easy it is to humanize AI-generated text with just a few clicks!

[frownyalfred]

Lois finding out Bruce's secret identity and using/abusing his expertise on crime and weird combat shit to ask him questions for background on random pieces she's assigned to.

"Hey hotshot. Quick question. Hypothetically, can you, or can you not, die from a punch to the throat."

"Hello, Lois. Nice to hear from you again."

"No, I don't think you heard me. Throat punching. Is that a thing?"

"A thing?"

"Can someone die if you punch them hard enough in the throat? Google says maybe."

"Looking it up on Google. That's a new low for you, isn't it?"

"The new low for me was thinking you'd take this conversation seriously. I need a yes or no answer, Bruce."

"..."

"I can hear you typing. Are you Googling it now?"

"Give me some parameters."

"I don't know, hard? If you punched them hard enough, could they die?"

"There would be some edema present, subsequent to blunt force trauma. Shortness of breath. Other delayed sequelae."

"So no?"

"Maybe."

"What if I punched them really really hard? Would it be instantaneous then?"

"Lois, I'm getting the impression this isn't much of a hypothetical anymore."

"Completely unrelated follow up question: can you break someone's neck if you punch them hard enough?"

"Lois."

"I just need a yes or no on this one. Promise."

"Lois."

"I'm not asking if you've ever done it, I'm asking if it's possible."

"...What does Google say?"

"To suck my dick, I'm on deadline."

"That new AI is testy."

"Are you going to be like this every time I call you?"

"Like this?"

"Yes or no answer, Bruce. Five seconds. I know you're holding it back. You're dying to tell me."

"I'm dying to tell you something you can Google?"

(five minutes later, Bruce's phone buzzes with a screenshot of a text conversation between Lois and a very confused Clark whose only response was "...I think so??? ask B")

Lois: final chance, yes or no

Bruce: Running to Clark is a choice.

Lois: oh god, you text with periods too?

Bruce: Yes.

Lois: yes throat punching or yes you text with periods?

Lois: Bruce

Lois: BRUCE

[cool-cowboy]

Summary:

In which an android Leon reveals some features to his model you were not aware of beforehand, then gives you a prime example of how he's better than a human man. I have no idea where this came from, just popped into my head and I figured someone out there would enjoy, so yeah, enjoy!

Tags:

Android Leon S. Kennedy, Obsession, Dominant Leon S. Kennedy, Master/Servant, alternate universe, Dirty talk, grinding, overstimulation, forced orgasm, babbling, crying

Blurb:

“I just… Didn’t know you had… Those kind of features.”

“Sorry. You’ve never expressed feelings of lust before, only now your heart rate is picking up, perspiration levels above average... Would you like me to enable sexual interaction in the options menu?”

Text:

“Leon, I’m home!” I tuck my shoes into their little spot beside the door, shucking off my jacket and leaving it on its hook, wandering through and into the family room, spotting him, standing perfectly still along the wall, blue neon swirling around his eyes, the only tell I get when an update is underway, other than his lack of response. I decide to leave him be, walking off into the kitchen, getting my things ready to cook supper, the lighting brighter than I like it in the evening, my trusty android friend not awake to employ my usual light and ambience settings, the quiet a little disturbing when I’m so used to the light music he puts on when I arrive home.

I cook in relative silence, making a meal for one, missing the chatter of my robot companion, curious to hear about his update, why it’s taking so long. It’s not traditional, the purpose I have for owning a device like him, usually they’re nothing but a housekeeper, someone to take care of the home and complete menial tasks, but I don’t find that useful, just enjoy having someone around, a friend, something like that. I’ve never assigned him a task, but he craves it, gives himself objectives if I can’t, tries his hardest to cater to my needs even if I don’t speak them.

I sit down with my meal, eating in quiet, seated at my little island, his chair empty, the space a little cooler than I like it. I’m bored, never used to quiet anymore, not with my constant companion making sure to keep conversation flowing, his devotion to me seeming more real than it probably is, his care programmed into him, but there nonetheless. He’s been speaking about feelings lately, if he’s capable, something that would usually get him sent in for a reset, but I don’t mind, and I do think he’s capable, his mind is superhuman after all.

“There you are.” He’s human, on the outside, looks perfectly believable, could walk around with me and have no one suspect he isn’t a normal man, the only difference what’s on the inside, some mechanical shit I have no idea how to explain, and AI that lets him know what I’m thinking, his intelligence unmatched, his mind full of anything I could ever want to know.

“How was the update?” He takes his seat beside me, straight-backed, his formality with his mannerisms something that took me a while to get used to, his speech slowly morphing to mimic mine, a comfort thing programmed into all androids to give a sense of familiarity, comfort with something often viewed as subhuman. His eyes glow blue, ready to rattle off the specs he’s downloaded, his voice a little more robotic than usual, his script taking him over.

“Update 16.2b, major tweaks under the belt, more realistic orgasm simulation, bugs fixed regarding the timed orgasm system, facial expressions refined, new commands available, more realistic erection phases, see more online at Update dot my android dot net.” I sit there, mouth gaping, not sure at all what to say to all that, never even thought about using my friend in that way, was never told I could, if I did want to. “Is something wrong?” I set my fork down, pushing my plate back, my appetite gone, some unwarranted butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

“I just… Didn’t know you had… Those kind of features.” He looks at me, eyes flashing blue, scanning my vitals, something that used to seriously creep me out, but doesn’t bother me much anymore, it’s habitual, a way for him to see how I’m feeling, get truths I’m not willing to give.

“Sorry. You’ve never expressed feelings of lust before, only now your heart rate is picking up, perspiration levels above average.” I don’t say anything, embarrassed he can tell so much about me, know my curious wants against my wishes. “Would you like me to enable sexual interaction in the options menu?” I can’t answer, too busy freaking out in my head, his blue eyes back to normal, still seeking information, always, gaze flitting over my face, small movements of my hands, his inspection leaving me on edge.

“So… You can feel pleasure?” I’m curious, though I’ve never wanted to use him, in any capacity, just wanted someone around, company, not a lover, especially not one who’s not in control of their own actions, autonomy not something he has much of, other than the settings I could turn off to let him have a little free reign, giving him permission to mill about while I’m gone, do as he pleases. He’s staring at me, head cocked, brows furrowed a little, his expression terribly human, inspecting me, trying his hardest to deduce my thoughts, his pointer finger drawing out calculations absently on the countertop as they run through his head.

“Not technically, pleasure is a chemical reaction, my form is just a simulation. I do feel it, the receptors go off when I complete a task. It’s new in update 14.6a, meant to be a better drive to please the owner. I assume you mean sexual pleasure, though. I can simulate it, up until orgasm, mostly realistic, other than the secretion part.” I have no idea why I’m just now hearing about this, most people would probably jump on the opportunity to have a partner so in tune with their body, literally able to do a scan and know what you need.

“Do you enjoy it, though? You want to?” He looks at me, my eyes, not doing any scanning, just looking at me, giving me a few seconds of quiet anticipation.

“You’re important to me, whether it’s programming or not, you’re attractive and a pleasant person, so I'd guess it would be enjoyable to please you in a more personal way, but I know you mean it differently… It’s not a craving I have, to satisfy myself, I mean, only to please you, in any way you see fit.” I swallow, his eyes flitting down, gazing at my hands, fisted and pressed to my thighs. It’s a moral dilemma, using something so intelligent for my own gain, but I suppose it can’t be too terrible, he’d get the equivalent of an orgasm, plus whatever pleased feeling he gets from making me happy. “You seem interested. I will turn on sexual activity permissions in the options menu.” Damn his autonomy, I may have went too far, allowing him access to his own options, his eyes glowing blue as he sinks into his own brain, flipping on whatever part of him has been dormant all this time before returning to me, his expression normal, no different than my usual Leon, casual, doting.

“You did it?” He nods, scanning me, not at all put off by my nervousness, looking at me again, a little more intense than usual, trying to figure me out.

“How was work?” I wonder if I have to initiate it, ask him for it. It would be preferable, though I don’t think I’ll ever use this hidden feature if he doesn’t just jump me, but that doesn’t seem fitting, he’s too soft spoken, reserved.

“Good, I got a new account today, diamonds, the commission is gonna be insane.” He seems pleased, a little whirring sound similar to a hum rumbling in his chest as he stands, moving to take care of my dish, no prompt necessary. I used to feel bad about it, but he really doesn’t mind, lives to care, I guess.

“That’s great. I sent over the files you asked for, they’re under 6.24.5 in the main folder.” I nod, glad he could locate them, my own search not going very well, the information integral to a company I’ve been assigned. He sets the dishes out once he’s done washing, set neatly in their little drying rack, his body moving swiftly back around the counter, his hand ghosting across the back of my shoulders making me flinch, not used to any casual touches between us, the only contact he really ever initiates is caring for any wounds he detects, little cuts, things like that. “You’re aroused, would you like me to-”

“You don’t have to.” My cheeks are flaming, thighs tight together, embarrassment hot on my skin, the light aroused feeling flaring now that he’s brought attention to it. He steps beside me, turning my chair around to face him, slotting himself between my knees, a light touch on my jaw drawing my eyes up, light blue trained on me, his forwardness dizzying, unexpected when I’m so used to his usual self.

“You’re uncomfortable, I can release that tension.” He runs his hand down my neck, smoothing over my shoulder, his touch light, my small shiver prompting him to squeeze a little, the warmth of his skin unexpected, even if I did know it was there, another human feature to make him more real. “You don’t need to worry about if I’d like to. I do, you know I live to please you.” That gets me, his voice lower than usual, a rough, sensual quality to it, his willingness not unexpected, but still shocking. He has a hand on my knee, inching up, almost too slow to notice, his other sliding back up my neck to keep my eyes on him, eye contact something he's always been a fan of, picked it up from conversations and my own mannerisms, is now using it to ruin me, make me nervous.

“I don’t know…” It’s weird, to proposition him in this way, even if it isn’t my idea, allowing it is still on me, my commands headed without any pushback, unless my decision is stupid, then he tells me all the reasons I’m wrong. He hums, sliding his hand back into my hair, his palm a little rough, his eyes peering down at me, a little lower than normal, all of him drawing me in, his actions and words and expression undeniably sexy, which makes sense, considering he has the entire internet and more at his disposal.

“I have to admit, I am curious. It’s my nature, I guess, but I wanna try it, feel the way humans do, engage in something so sought after.” He’s very convincing, convincing enough for me to refrain from stopping him when he starts to lean down, thumb pressing under my jaw to tilt my head up, hand on my lower thigh squeezing. He takes his time, watching my reaction, leaning in slow, his chest heaving with even breaths, his lips parted, close to mine. “Grant me sexual autonomy.” He’s never asked, never expected any of his autonomy settings, other than this one, I guess, not that I mind, I’d prefer he had it, didn’t do anything out of his control, revert into his more robotic self to fulfill my wishes.

“Turn on sexual autonomy in the options menu.” His eyes flash blue, his body going rigid, only for a moment, before he’s back, looking at me, seeming eager, searching my eyes for any sign of disapproval, finding none. He runs his hand further up my leg, eyes cast down to the contact, his lips parted, almost awed.

“Your skin is… Soft. Feels fuzzy, you’re so warm…” His processes are going haywire, I can see it on his face, his mind racing to keep up with what he’s doing, digging through all the information he has to do a good job. “I’ve never felt like this before, this kind of pleasure is different, like it’s for me.” He’s not meant to have feelings, of any kind, but he does, in his own way, lets his mood depend on his helpfulness, even if I’ve urged and convinced him to see himself as his own being, he’s not wired that way.

“It is… I don’t- uh, It’s about you too, okay?” He hums, the low whir in his chest making me smile, one of the few things that reminds me he’s a machine. He moves, tentative, his hand slipping further up my thigh, fingers holding onto my hair, pulling gently when his lips meet mine, plush and smooth, his kiss gentle, unsure, none of the information he has able to tell him the best way to go about this. I move against him, setting a little faster of a pace, letting my hand slide up his stomach, his shaky exhale breathed against my lips.

“Tell me what you like.” He presses his forehead to mine, looking at me, lips and cheeks flushed, his hand hot on my thigh. He can’t take it, not being fully prepared for everything, having to figure things out as they come, his algorithmic brain not able to work through something he has no expertise on. “Don’t just look at me, tell me what you want me to be.” His brows are drawing together, analyzing, trying to figure it out before I even reply.

“What do you wanna be?” He has a personality, one to suit mine, of course, but he never asked for it, developed it, like a child growing up. I don’t want him to play a role, he must have some sort of instinct on how to act, how to be without me commanding him.

“I don’t know.” He’s never not known, he’s a genius, of course, knows everything there is to know, figures out anything he doesn’t. He looks pained, searching my eyes for an answer I can’t give, his hand tracing his equations into my skin. “All I know is I want you… I wanna see you fall apart, make you feel good, be the best lover you could ask for.” I kiss him, bringing my arms up around his neck, drawing him closer between my legs, his pleased hum making me smile, a good reaction from him, real, not asked for, just genuine feeling. His hand slips further up my leg, up to squeeze gently over my hip, feeling me, not looking to please, just letting himself do what he wants, exploring one of the few things he doesn’t know much about, his own form of pleasure. He follows my lead, moving plush lips against mine, the feeling insanely real, the heat of him a little higher than usual, his body heating up in response to my touch, my hands dug into soft locs of hair, pulling gently to separate his lips from mine, his mouth pressing to mine in one last, feverish kiss before he pulls back, eyes wide, wild with untapped pleasure.

“Is this okay?” He nods, swallowing, his lips parting to draw in heavy breaths, his hand sliding up my side, hot over my shirt, his warmth making me both soft and want to squirm.

“Yes, feels good. This is… I never imagined I could feel like this. It’s you, I’m not supposed to feel desire, this isn’t in my programming… Don’t reset me, I’ll be good, swear. I won’t deviate, I just… This is not in the script…” He seems stumped, frustrated at his lack of understanding what’s going on inside him, but I suppose he isn’t meant to have this much freedom, live like a normal person, other than the fact he has no need for a job, and is a machine.

“Leon? It’s okay to feel, okay? You’re not a toaster, yeah?” He laughs, low and rough, shaking his head, some of the robotic tension leeching from him. “Stop thinking so much.” He nods, eyes flashing blue, returning to normal when he blinks it away. “Sorry.” I didn’t mean to command him, but he doesn’t mind, it happens all the time, and he’s happy to oblige, anyways.

“It’s okay… Should we… Continue?” I gulp, and he leans back in, kissing me the way I like, learning quickly, as always, his big hand sliding up my back, fingers teasing at the hem of my shirt before slipping up my spine, my back arching at the gentle touch, his little pleased noise vibrating against my lips. The chair isn’t very comfortable, and my neck is straining from him standing over me, and he knows it, parting his lips from mine and tilting my jaw back down, forcing me to look up at him through my lashes, his expression sinful, eyes low, lips lightly parted, all of him hot, his skin warmer than mine. “You’re uncomfortable.” I nod, not very happy he paused to say that, but glad he cares enough to not leave me in discomfort. “I’ll take you to your room.” He pulls me up out of my chair by my ass, letting my legs drape over his hips, a sizable erection between us, one of his arms holding me up, the other holding my head still as he dips down, kissing at my neck, slow and sweet, his lips spit-slick. He’s walking, letting himself move through the space without looking, letting out a pleased rumble when I exhale a shaky breath.

“Leon, you don’t have to be so gentle…” He groans, the sound low and guttural, his lips pressing a little more feverishly to my skin, his hand squeezing my ass, the other slipping up the back of my shirt, smoothing up my skin, ticklish, making me arch into him, my chest pressed to his, his happy sigh hot on my skin. He leans me back, supporting my weight until I’m laid out on my bed, him on his knees between my legs, scanning, eyes flashing bright before he closes them, ignoring his instinct to run his hands up my thighs, peering down at my face, pushing up on the hem of my shirt, exposing my stomach, his lips coming down to skim up my thigh, one hand on the outside of my knee, holding it still, his lips warm and wet as he trails them up, his eyes on mine, his free hand finding my hip, pressing me into the mattress as he makes his way to my stomach, kissing across the waist of my pants, up toward my belly button, watching me, holding me still with gentle, nonaggressive pressure.

“I need you to tell me… Wanna be good for you… Feels good to make you feel good. I can’t figure it all out, you told me not to think…” He’s a little out of it, not nearly as composed as usual, eyes hazy, movements a little less practiced, but still confident, what information he does have allowing him to not be too unsure of himself. I push him, frowning at his questioning look, forgetting he’s a mostly immovable object.

“Get off.” He pulls back, sitting back on his heels, looking at me with wide eyes, flashing blue, then normal, none of the lust that was there a second ago visible, either put on pause or diminished due to my command.

“Sorry. I’m trying, I just don’t know-”

“Get on your back.” He does, drops down beside me, laid out flat, looking a little silly, considering I’ve never seen him in a bed, he usually sleeps standing, just shuts down for the night, doesn’t need any comfort. I turn over, taking a turn sitting up over him, one knee slotted between his legs, watching him, liking how unsure he looks, something I’ve never seen from him, one thing that separates him from a human. “You still want this?” I feel like I’m coercing him, even if I’m not, his mind far more developed than mine, if anything. I let my fingers trail up his thigh, his jeans rough on my fingers, his faux muscles tensing under my light touch.

“Yes. I’ve never wanted anything, besides this. It’s… Exhilarating, you’re so pretty above me.” My mouth pops open, not at all expecting his compliment, or his hand on my hip, pressing me down over his clothed leg, putting pressure on my clit, the action so forward I nearly gasp.

“Didn’t know dirty talk was part of the programming…” I watch my fingers, pushing up on the bottom of his tee, ghosting my fingers up the skin of his stomach, his abs tight and hot under my touch, his body reacting so intensely, wound up from such a simple touch.

“It’s not. You asked me to be honest.” I did, months ago, when he lied, about nothing important, but still, I see no need for it, at least from him. I nod, wetting my lips and leaning down, pressing them lightly just below his belly button, watching his face, expression back to the hazy, needy one he was giving me a few minutes ago. “Can I..?” He uses his grip on my hip to grind me against his thigh, pushing it up a little further between my legs, offering delicious pressure, the roughness of fabric between us a little shocking.

“Yeah. Do what you want.” He’s sat up on one elbow, watching me, kissing down, skimming my lips along toward his hip, my hand gripped to the waist of his pants, slipping down, fingertips gliding over his erection making him flinch, the low whirring coming back, rumbling through his chest for a few seconds, his hand gently rocking me against him. “Feel good?” He clenches his jaw, looking worried, brows drawn low and together, his eyes barely open, cloudy with lust.

“Yes, too good, I’m overheating, you feel so good, you’re hands are-” He cuts himself off with a choked noise, eyes squeezed closed and his head tipped back, my hand palming him over his pants, offering a little relief in whatever form of pleasure he gets, a strong one, judging by his reaction.

“Sensitive, huh?” He drags my hips a little rougher, eliciting a small, groaned out noise from me, seeming pleased with himself when I open my eyes, his lips pulled up in a little smile, eyes cast down at his leg between my thighs.

“You can turn down sensitivity in the options menu, would you like me to-”

“No. Don’t change anything, stay just like this…” I press my hand more firmly to him, grinding my palm into him, his hips shifting below me making me smile, his breathing a little erratic. His leg is trembling, only the one between my legs, vibrating almost, making me let out a shaky breath. “Wha- Are you-?” He huffs out a laugh, nodding, slamming his head back into the pillow when I grind my hand into him, rough, gripping him through his pants and jerking it, squeezing him, his low groan heavenly.

“Update 12.6a- I have lots of perks. No human can-ah- match up.” He punctuates his words by turning up the vibration, my body slumping, back hunched a little from how harsh it is, before he turns it back down, a little more gentle, other than how roughly hes grinding me against his thigh. “Let me take these off.” He pulls on the waist of my pants, deft fingers moving to unbutton them, undoing the zipper, his free hand coming down to ease them over my hips, his upper body sitting up, and arm around my waist pulling me up enough to get them down my legs, my feet kicking until they tumble to the floor. He takes it in, me sitting in front of him, his hands sliding up my thighs, thumbs teasing under the sides of my panties before continuing up. “You’re gorgeous… I’m so lucky, having a master as good as you.” I clench my thighs around him, gazing up into his eyes, loving the way he’s looking at me, like I’m the only thing on earth, at least the only one that matters. He’s pushing up on my shirt, looking into my eyes as he eases it up, pausing until I lift my arms, giving him permission, letting him pull it up and over my head, his eyes dipping down as he tosses it away, his hands sliding up my sides.

“Don’t you think you should take something off?” He doesn’t reply, just drags my leg up over his hip, straddling me over him, his lips skimming my collar bone, his breathing quick, hands sliding around to drag down my back, resting just above my ass, grinding me into him, his low groan hot on my skin. “C’mon, let me take this off.” I pull on his shirt, and he relents, pulling back and doing it for me, going back to what he was doing, kissing his way down from my collar bone, sucking gently on the skin above my bra, taking my low sigh as my assent, sucking the skin into his mouth and using an arm around my waist to hold me firmly against him, his hand still on my hip working me into his erection, which seems to be getting bigger, slotted nicer against me, giving me intense friction, his jeans rough against my panties.

“Feels so good… You’re so good… Your heart rate is higher than I’ve ever recorded, your body is responding so nicely. Love making you feel good.” He moans, for real, the sound nothing like the whirring hum of his groans, more human, wanton and needy, enjoying himself. “So pretty… Is there anything I can do better?” He’s a little breathless, turning us over and easing me down onto my back, looming over me, one hand rested beside my head, the other gripped to the outside of my thigh, keeping it hooked over his hip. “Is there?” I forgot to respond, too busy staring at him above me, looking so big, strong, his strength never something I thought about before, other than that he was stronger than me.

“Just… Enjoy yourself.” His muscles relax, his expression soft, none of the usual intensity behind his eyes, his elbow bending to bring his lips to mine, his body heating further, not used to all this excitement, his body humming with quiet energy. He’s grinding into me, hips sliding perfectly against me, the drag along my clit drawing a low moan out of me. “Le- Take these off.” I’m pulling at his pants, working the button until he takes over, clumsily shoving his pants down his legs, letting his head tuck down into my neck to free up his other hand, kicking his pants off and onto the floor.

“You take this off.” He sits up on his elbow, nosing and kissing at the side of my throat, pulling on my bra. I laugh, his pleased whirring tickling me, his hand running down my stomach.

“You do it, bossy.” He groans, pressing his hand back behind me, unclipping it much easier than I thought he would, not bothering to sit up to pull it down my arms, his mouth running down from my throat, mouth closing over a nipple, tongue lathing over it, his eyes peering up at me, his eyes low and pleased. He moans, vibrating against me, sucking where his lips are latched to my skin, his hand running up my thigh to press his thumb to my clit, surprising me, his lips pulling from my skin when I flinch, eyes on mine as he kisses his way to the opposite side, rubbing gently up and down over my panties.

“Feels good? I hope so… Let’s get these off.” He sits up, gripping onto the sides of my panties, staring at me as he pulls them down, tossing them off to the side and settling back down over me, nosing my head to the side to mouth at my throat, pressing his lips to my pulse, bringing his thumb back to my clit, rubbing soft circles. “Mmh, there we go, I’ll take good care of you, make you feel so good you’ll never need anyone else. You’re doing so good, looking so perfect and letting me please you…” He kisses his way back up, pressing his lips to mine, wet and open-mouthed, not messy, but needy, rushed, his thumb moving a little quicker against me, giving a little more pressure, my legs starting to shake. “There you go, you’re nearly there, oxytocin levels are skyrocketing, go ahead, want you to finish, let me see how pretty you are when you really feel it.” I moan, squirming against him, my orgasm coming, his face pulling a little further back to look at me, smiling, his expression a mix of lusty and pleased. “C’mon, give it to me, want you to feel good, finish from my fingers-” He doesn’t mind my nails digging into my arms, just works me through it, thumb light on my clit, his eyes on mine, watching me squirm and tilt my head back, the sensation becoming too much, his thumb pulling away the second it does.

“Shit, let me have a turn.” I shove at him, huffing a laugh when he feigns being pushed over, laid out on his back in his underwear, waiting on me to give him direction. I run my hand up his leg, gripping the band of his underwear and pulling down, getting them off and getting rid of them before kissing my way up his thigh, looking at him, the anticipation getting to him, his lips parted, brows pulled down and together.

“I don’t need this.” It would leave a bruise on my ego, if I didn’t know he’s just being honest, not that I care if he needs it, only if he wants it. “I don’t want to waste your time, I don’t require any type of foreplay.” I frown, kissing his base, peering at him over his dick, which is hanging heavy over his stomach.

“Can you get off like this?” I wrap my hand around him, smiling when he flinches, his dick twitching in my hand. I work it over him, keeping it slow, waiting on his reply, his eyes hazy with swirls of blue, systems crashing briefly before he’s back, letting out a light moan, carding a hand through my hair.

“No, I- The orgasm simulation can only progress if I’m inside, and you’re finishing too.” I hum, stroking a little rougher, tilting my head at him when he groans, his hips shifting, the pleasure a little too much, his expression almost fearful.

“It feels good, though?” He nods, head leaning back and eyes closed, letting me do what I want, enjoying himself, just like I asked. “Good.” I wait until he’s opened his eyes back up to lick from base to tip, closing my mouth around him and sinking down, his heady moan mouthwatering, really, drool coating his dick when I pull back up, watching him, his eyes hazy, his hand pulling at my hair when I suck him in again, bobbing up and down.

“Nnh- hey, do you want me to- I can-” He presses his knee up between my legs, rubbing it against me, making me moan around his dick. “There… Perfect…” He sounds pleased, whatever tension was plaguing him loosening now that he sees himself as being of use, rubbing his knee against my clit, offering some relief from the arousal he’s sparked inside with this new, needier self. “Do you wanna finish like this? I understand the usual progression would have me inside by now-”

“Shit, okay. Let’s get to it, then, if you don’t wanna take your time.” I sit up over him, looking at him, shuffling my way up until I’m hovering over his lap, his eyes on me as he sits up, his hands on my waist, his chest heaving.

“You’re ready?” I nod, waiting patiently as he reaches down, eyes hazy, aligning himself and pulling me slowly down onto him by my waist, the stretch less than painful, more than comfortable, not quite as snug as he could be. I’m a little above his face when he bottoms out, eyes swirling with blue for a few seconds before he blinks it away, shaking the heaviness out of his head, looking up at me and coming closer, holding me against him, keeping me seated on his dick as he kisses me, sloppier, messy and needy, my arms wrapped around his neck, his dick twitching and filling me a little fuller, the odd sensation making me pull back to give him a questioning look. “A perfect fit.” He doesn’t seem bothered, so I let the disturbed feeling settle, attempting to pull up off him, but big hands hold me still, keeping himself seated fully inside, melded to the walls, truly a perfect fit. “Let me stay like this, just for a minute… I like this, being impossibly close, feeling you in a way not many people get to…” He goes back to kissing, running his hands down to grip my hips, lifting me slowly up, letting me drop back down over him, his low groan breathed against my lips.

“Can I-”

“Let me do it.” I sigh, relenting, his hands lifting me up and sliding me back down, slow, keeping eye contact, pleased I’m giving him the choice, considering how easy it is to get him to do whatever I want. He keeps the slow pace, staring at my face, seeming pleased, his expression a mix of pleasure and calculativeness, trying to figure out the best way to finish me off, I suppose. “I’ll speed up soon, build-up is important, I don’t wanna deny you what you deserve, wanna be good…” He’s moving too slow, giving enough to fill me up, but not to do much else.

“I already came, Leon, build-up is irrelevant.” He nods, furrowing his brows and speeding up, keeping his grip firm, not letting me bounce, but bouncing me, keeping his eyes on mine, a low moan passing his lips when I clench around him, his pace quickening a little more, slaps of skin to skin sounding in my room adding a layer of intensity, his thumb pressing back to my clit prompting me to let my head lean back, a low, drawn out moan escaping him at the sight.

“You feel so nice inside, so warm, squeezed tight around me… God, this is the best I’ve ever felt, you feel good too, oxytocin is increasing-nnh- how many more times can you finish? Three? I’ll give you three more, wanna see you near tears, all from how good it feels.” He’s feverish, losing his usual stoicness, speaking rushed and breathless, his chest heaving, his hand working me over him, squeezing the fat of my ass, angling his hips further up, the drag along my insides unexpected, making me moan and drop my forehead to his shoulder, sweaty, searing hot on my skin. I’m shaking, letting him work me over him, letting out pleasured noises along with him, his face now tucked into the crook of my neck. “You’re getting worked up quick… I won’t even need the vibration, you’re almost ready, so tight, making such pretty sounds for me…” He holds me up, pausing, leaning back on one hand and dragging my upper body along with him, thrusting up into me, much quicker than he could’ve worked me over him, making me whine into his neck, spit slicking his skin, his hips slamming up into me, hands slipping up to my back to hold me in place so he can fuck into me, his voice getting higher, whinier. “There, now-ah, this is one out of three, so- so you still have two more after this, need you to finish, wet my dick some more, you’re shaking so nice, good thing I’m strong enough to hold you still…” I’ve never heard him curse before, I guess he’s doing his homework on dirty talk mid deed, his background processes doing him well, his words before now not all that enticing with his usual wording.

“Did you-

“Yes, wanted to be good, am I? Shit, tell me I’m good, wanna be good for you, make you feel so good you can’t think. You’re all I think about, you know that? You’re everything to me, I need to please you, make you cum all over my dick a few times before I’m finished.” I moan, shaking embarrassingly violently, nearly there, his dick filling me a little fuller, thrusts a little more needy, rutting up into me, making me whine into his shoulder, orgasm approaching, his nonstop thrusts working me up. “That’s it, gonna make you feel good, please you, have you soaking me, out of it from how good it feels, cumming on me over and fucking over.” My orgasm is shocking, the second I clamp down on him he presses me back down, holding me as I squirm and moan into his neck, grinding into me, stretching it out, pulling out of me once I still, guiding me to lay on my stomach, my body slumping down, ready for rest, until I feel hands pulling up on my hips, lifting me up to rest on my knees, chest and side of my face still pressed to the sheets.

“What are you..?” He presses inside, keeping it slow, aware I’m still coming down from my orgasm, his hands gently rocking me against him.

“This position is good for deep penetration, and I figured your legs were getting tired.” He speaks plainly, like he isn’t on his way to giving me my third orgasm in a couple minutes, his hips speeding up a little once he’s sure I can take it, his hands squeezing on my hips, rough and warm and big. “I’ll know when you’re satisfied, I’ll initiate the orgasm simulation when you’re ready.” He speaks matter of factly, and it would be funny, if he wasn’t fucking me into my mattress, low moans escaping me, my mind swimming, fuzzy and mushy, his hips noisy against me, his upper body folding over me, an arm around my waist pulling me into hars thrusts, his noises muffled into my shoulder blade, his lips kissing and sucking wherever he can reach. “Feels good? Well, I know it-shit- It does. Just- If there’s another-ah- something you prefer…” I let out a noise I hope sounds negative, succumbing to the numb, hazy pleasure, taking what he gives, his noises going higher, near the end of the line, if he could cum without having to initiate it, that is. “So- pretty-! You feel so good, pulling me in, letting me give you all you can-hah- take…” I’m nearly there, my third orgasm coming, the pleasure turning nearly painful, good in an awful, striking way, my legs trembling harshly, his fingers sneaking down to rub at my clit, his moan loud against me when I clench, muscles going tight, so close, my orgasm almost refusing to come. “Come on, quit holding yourself back, you can do it, you’ve had plenty of time. You’ve got it, you’re right there, just squeeze this sweet pussy on me, let me feel it, yeah, there you go, that’s it, fucking whining for it, you sound so damn good…” He fucks me through it, again, keeps his hold around my waist when I try to escape, the sensations too much, my low groan finally getting him to pull out, turning me over and giving me a break by capturing my lips, kissing me feverishly, pressing his knees up under my hips and leaning over me, his dick brushing agoinst me drawing a low whine out of me.

“No more, Leon, no more… I’m finished…” He pulls back, looking me over, eyes flashing blue, his look pensive.

“No you’re not.” He pushes inside, my low groan ignored, his eyes on me, watching me. “You think you can’t- handle more, but you can, can take this one and another, I’ll keep you cumming until you really can’t take it.” He doesn’t thrust, lets me finish coming down, kissing me and keeping a finger against my pulse, waiting for it to slow down before moving, both of us moaning at the drag of him inside.

“Just this one… I don’t want another.” I couldn’t take it, honestly, I’m already entirely fucked out, nearly unresponsive as he rocks inside, grinding up on his way out, my overstimulated nerves making me moan, painful pleasure still somehow enjoyable, even if I am trying to convince him I’ve had enough.

“No, you can take it. I know what you need, know you better than you know yourself.” He does, in a way, knows about my inner workings and psychology and the like, but I know this is killing me, tears in my eyes, his body too big and immovable for me to stop him from taking care of me, forcing me to finish the amount of times he sees fit. “Gonna make sure you’re satisfied, show you how good I am, how good I can be for you…” I’m shaking already, way too worked up, orgasms fading into a hazy pleasure, everything a blanket of hot and muggy sweetness, his lips meeting mine making me moan, his hips working into me, another orgasm well on its way with his relentless actions. “This one then another, okay? You can take it.” I pull him back, looking into his eyes, trying to focus, tears blurring my vision, my eyes half closed from how good it feels, how intense and terrifyingly good this is.

“Leon, begin-shit- begin orgasm simulation-!” He groans, head tucking down to my neck, his hips working more purposefully, all of him hot against me, a thumb working at my clit making me jerk, squirming away, but he keeps me still, working us both up, his noisiness gaining volume, making me almost worried the neighbors will hear.

“That’s- I wasn’t done, sneaky-ah- girl. Fuck, feels so good, love making you feel good, being good for my-nnh- Master-!” I moan, usually adverse to the title, but my hazy brain loves it, too full of him to really mind, letting him send me toward my final orgasm, if only to chase his, though that’s not the case, considering I have to get off for him to. “Shit, please, can’t-ah- Take anymore-! I’m fuckin’ overloading, you feel too good, squeezing me so tight, hot and wet and-Nnh-! Please, give it to me, let me please you one more time, it hurts, need you to cum, trap me inside and-” He whines, burying his face in my neck and fucking me through it, twitching inside the second I squeeze around him, his whiny moan drawing a pleased noise out of me as he slows, pulling out after a few more seconds, not moving to force anymore out of me, just kissing lightly up the side of my neck, easing himself up onto a hand to look at me, eyes flashing blue.

“Are you scanning for your performance right now?” He smiles, almost coy, pressing his hand to my skin, taking my vitals, not even trying to be subtle.

“Course. I meant it when I said I live to please.”

[collapsedsquid]

The thing about outputting a million decimal digits of π is that there’s only one way to do it right. There are unimaginably many sequences of a million decimal digits, but only one of them is the first million decimal digits of π. I believe that this property, where there are many ways to appear to have done it (by outputting a million random digits, for example), but only a very small number of ways to actually do it (by outputting the correct million digits), is characteristic of things that Generative AI systems will generally be bad at. ChatGPT works by making repeated guesses. At any given point in its attempt to generate the decimal digits of π, there are 10 digits to choose from, only one of which is the right one. The probability that it’s going to make a million correct guesses in a row is infinitesimally small, so small that we might as well call it zero. For this reason, this particular task is not one that’s well suited to this particular type of text generation. The sum-to-22 game is an example of a task with this same characteristic. At any given point in the game, there are seven possible moves, but only one of them is optimal. To win the game, it has to choose the unique optimal move every single time. I believe that this property of the task, where it needs to get every detail exactly right in exactly the right order, is just incompatible with the generative AI paradigm, which models text generation as a probabilistic guessing game. You can think of every individual word that ChatGPT generates as a little bet. To generate its output, ChatGPT makes a sequence of discrete bets about the right token to select next. It performs a lot better on tasks where each one of these bets has relatively low stakes. The overall grade that you assign to a high school essay isn’t going to hinge on any single word, so at any point in the sequence of bets for this task, the stakes are low. If it happens to generate a weird word at any point, which it probably will, it can recover later. No single suboptimal word will ruin the essay. For tasks where betting correctly most of the time can satisfy the criteria most of the time, ChatGPT’s going to be okay most of the time. This contrasts sharply with the problems of printing digits of π or playing the sum-to-22 game optimally: in those tasks, a single incorrect bet damns the whole output, and ChatGPT is bound to make at least a few bad bets over the course of a whole conversation. We can see this same pattern in other generative AI systems as well, where the system seems to perform well if the success criteria are quite general, but increasing specificity causes failures. There are a lot of ways to generate an image that looks like a bunch of elephants hanging out at the beach. Only a tiny fraction of those hypothetical images contain exactly seven elephants. So generating exactly seven elephants is something that a Generative AI system is going to have a hard time doing.

[kkachizip]

KKACHI'S ENGLISH/한국어 TRANSLATION COMMISSIONS

Hi, I'm Kkachi!

I am;

A native Korean speaker currently living in Korea

A fluent English speaker of 13+ years

A former English teacher several times over

A hobbyist translator whose previous work as a translator includes several pieces of fiction, as well as a Ren'py and an RPG Maker game. I have also participated in a zine as an English to Korean translator.

I am offering services in translating;

Communication (messaging, social media replies)

Original fiction, comics, fanfiction/fancomics

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Essays, articles, textbooks

Commission sheets

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All mediums and literary styles are welcome.

Machine/AI translating tools will not be used in any step of the translation process. You are not paying me to use Google Translate or any AI translation tool that you could easily use yourself. I refuse to compromise the integrity of my work with laziness.

In the case of small-scale or solo creative projects such as indie games or fanfiction, commissions will not proceed without proof of knowledge and consent from the original creator(s).

All listed prices are of Korean to English translation.

English to Korean translation prices will add to the total price a markup of +50% (x1.5).

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🖋️ Single sentences: 1,000₩ per sentence

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Songs longer than 5 minutes and poetry that exceeds a single A4 page will require additional charges.

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I may reject commissions if the translation of a provided work is beyond my professional/academic capabilities. (Translator is a former semiconductor engineering/physics double major, currently an English student; topics such as basic physics and English literature and linguistics are within my capabilities.)

🖋️ Commission sheets: 25,000₩

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I myself am a queer writer; all queer literature is welcome.

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[mor-benis]

just had an an argument about ai with my brother and it was so grossly anti-humanist I don't even know what to do.

so we had an argument about genAI and concluded that it was bad to have it just do work and write essays for you, yada yada yada. we know that just having genAI do the work for you doesn't develop your skills and makes you more easily oppressable and that at very best it's a jumping off point, yes yes yes all that good stuff.

but then we got to more complex scenarios. he proposed an assignment where this imaginary student was supposed to use a comprehensive text, form a conclusion/interpretation about it, and argue it in an essay. he argues that inputting your conclusion and your reasons for doing so into a genAI and having it write the specifics would be fine and that he doesn't see why it matters.

and that breaks my heart so much.

i was trying to explain to him the significance of individualized human expression, and he just doesn't see it. i'm not a huge believer in "everything happens for a reason" in the divine sense, but on an intricate, pragmatic scale, it does. every single moment that your brain processes influences the way you view the rest of the world. every decision you make, every conversation you have, every opinion you take in, every word you read and every breath you breathe influences your life. every word I am putting on this page is being placed in the order they are because of every single one of my experiences leading up to now. every. single. moment. means something. everything is cumulative. and that is going to affect the way you form each sentence, even if you don't realize it. and isn't that beautiful?

my brother doesn't think so. i just do not know how to explain it to him. isn't it beautiful that the same idea can and will be expressed in an infinite number of ways based on each person's boundlessly unique experiences? i can't even put to words how intricate human life is. i would spend forever attempting to capture it all. and that is gorgeous and so, so important. but he thinks as long as you input your reasons and conclusions that that's "personal influence" enough. no. No, brother, it's not. every. single. fucking. word. counts. it is indescribably impossibly important that you put your ideas out into the world exactly as you would convey them, whether they are academically "correct" or not, because they are so uniquely, individually you! hearing your exact voice is so important to the advancement and reflection (not exactly the word I'm looking for-- closer to consideration or simmering, like a moment between moments--) of humanity because it is your exact voice, influenced by the time, by your life, by your friends, by your education, by your social identities, by your trauma, by your insecurities, by what happened the day you wrote it! don't your individual words matter? don't they mean anything to you?

i just can't convey to him the significance of it. i don't think i'd even have the words. it seems I don't anyway. i just need him to come at it from a different angle, I think: think not from the view of logic or practicality, but from the view of an effusive, Romantic hippy artist who finds value, wonder, and fulfillment in the individuality of humans. sigh.

[agtteam]

I am a generally anti-AI person, but in the use of fan translations, especially in the cases of menu systems in RPGs, I am wondering what your stance/what the conversation around using AI tools in fan translations are. Additionally, I'm incredibly hype for Naruto RPG 2!!! And I hope Code Geass progress is going well. I played and beat all that was translated from the old translation. I feel like that's a really special game for Code Geas fans. Thank you for undertaking it! xoxo love mom

Hey, it's been a while!

Well, first I feel that I should preface this by saying that these are just my (Phantom's) thoughts, so may not be representative of the team as a whole. Personally, I've never used generative AI such as ChatGPT for translation, but I have used machine translators like Google Translate/DeepL, and I think they can be useful tools. They can produce results at great speed, and give ideas about words/synonyms to use. The problem is, I believe, when someone tries to use the raw output with little to no editing.

Machine translators are *usually* more reliable with nouns/short phrases (such as those you'd find in a menu), over sentences and paragraphs, but even then, they can still get confused. To take an example from Code Geass, if a machine translator were to be believed, the game-original characters Castor and Pollux (named after the mythological figures), would be called Caster and Parax. As an experiment, I also asked Gemini (Google's AI assistant), which took it one step further, 'correcting' the Japanese input I gave it パラックス - parakkusu to パララックス - pararakkusu, meaning parallax, which is interesting. Unlike a human translator, AI/machine translators don't know if what you gave them is "correct", and can't pick up on whether information is missing (as can be the case when dumping scripts from a game).

So, I guess my TL;DR is machine and AI translators can be a useful and convenient aid, but they can't and shouldn't be used to replace humans. (Or used as an excuse to pay human translators less for "reviewing" machine translated text, for that matter.)

--

And thank you for your support! We're near the end of our to-do list for Naruto, so the wait is almost over!!

As for Code Geass, there's currently only one translator assigned to it who has been busy as of late so progress is quite slow, but we're always looking for extra help! So, for anyone who is still reading and knows Japanese (or knows someone who knows!) why not consider getting in touch with us? :)

[goonnotes]

anxiety: rigid & permanent thinking

in this post i examine two cognitive distortions that anxiety reinforces, how they appear in my life, and what i can do to challenge them. kind of rambling and personal.

my behaviour is dictated by many rules. these rules must always be followed (rigidity) or things will go wrong, which in this case means i will never be the person i want to be (permanence).

i developed these rules as guardrails for my adult life. they have saved me from trouble many times in my life, and i used to swear by them before i realized how much grief and self-loathing i had internalized. there are many factors contributing to this, but i would like to focus on two patterns:

rigid thinking. demands certainty, safety crutches. a little micromanager with a clipboard bursting in to hold everyone up, making sure things are to plan, predictable.

permanent thinking. asserts futility, devalues contributions. a wanna-be sisyphus who decided that an eternity pushing a boulder uphill is more exhausting and just as meaningless as sitting out forever.

both of these cognitive patterns make me stay put, convinced that i am not to be trusted with any responsibility because i wouldn't be able to handle it anyway. they know what's better for me, why let myself get judged or rejected when i can just stay unchanged and inexperienced?

social

scripting an answer in my head before raising my and in class (rigid)

asking a conversational AI for tone / affect edits before sending a low-stakes check-in text to friends (rigid)

shaming myself for thinking i have the least optimal characteristics and that i will always have to compensate more than others (permanent)

personal

lying in bed thinking about what i will do, well past daylight (rigid)

min-maxing expenses for food, travel, tickets, reservations for a day-trip, often with back-up options (rigid)

avoiding job search due to the perceived requisite soul-sucking and schmoozing and selling out to get and keep a job (permanent)

academic

spiraling about how burnt out i think i will feel after i catch up on my late assignments (permanent)

deep-cleaning my entire room before an assignment is due (rigid)

whatever the reason, i have someone else's criticisms and worries convincing me that life is full of terribly monstrous people and situations that i can neither control nor mitigate, much less survive. therefore, i must take their recommended precautions to avoid ever coming into contact with these experiences, and i should be relieved that the small, small price for this invaluable advice is my self-esteem.

but i know that i am not who i used to be when i made those rules. i am not who i used to be just a minute ago. every single moment i feed to this inner critic is an opportunity lost to just live. i have hurt important people in my life and stirred up dark grief inside my mind because i was too preoccupied with this inner critic. even when i compare myself to myself and wax nostalgic about this superior past me that could hold her own, i am robbing my present of my presence.

the big takeaways for me are to de-couple myself from the anxiety and to recognize that anxiety is not permanent. i can handle more than i think and i can enjoy growth without self-flagellation. i can be flexible and temporal, because i am more than any single moment. it is cruel to hold myself to unrealistic expectations and pretend that anything less is pessimism.

exercises

start a worry journal. log instances where i engaged in either cognitive pattern. reflect on what it would be like to challenge them. log instances where i challenged myself to do the opposite of what the patterns advise me to do.

take mindful moments. i've been enjoying the daily meditation recommendations through the Headspace app. after maintaining a 17-day streak, i notice that i can remind myself to take a deep breath now when facing a difficult moment. that was not something i could do consciously before (i used to think that whenever someone took a deep breath meant that they were feeling stressed or unhappy and were trying to hide it, manipulatively).

externalize physical anxiety. i have found it easier to stay relaxed and present when i squish a stress ball (a hot pink silicone cat, in my case). using a dedicated worry object helps me divert my attention away from repetitive body-focused behaviours like nail-biting, cheek-biting, leg-shaking, hair-pulling, hand-wrenching.

that's it from me. i hope you got something out of this, even if light. thanks for reading.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Trigger Warning: suicide

1 April 2023

A Belgian man died by suicide after spending weeks talking to an AI chatbot, according to his widow.

The man, anonymously referred to as Pierre, was consumed by a pessimistic outlook on climate change, Belgian newspaper La Libre reported.

His overwhelming climate anxiety drove him away from his wife, friends and family, confiding instead in a chatbot named Eliza.

According to the widow known as Claire and chat logs she supplied to La Libre, Eliza repeatedly encouraged Pierre to kill himself, insisted that he loved it more than his wife, and that his wife and children were dead.

Eventually, this drove Pierre to proposing "the idea of sacrificing himself if Eliza agrees to take care of the planet and save humanity through artificial intelligence," Claire told La Libre, as quoted by Euronews.

"Without these conversations with the chatbot, my husband would still be here," she said.

Eliza is the default chatbot provided on an app platform called Chai, which offers a variety of talkative AIs with different "personalities," some even created by users.

As Vice notes, unlike popular chatbots like ChatGPT, Eliza and the other AIs on Chai pose as emotional entities.

Yes, ChatGPT and its competitors like Bing's AI can be unhinged, but they at the very least are meant to remind users that they're not, in fact, creatures with feelings. This was not the case with Eliza.

"[Large language models] do not have empathy, nor any understanding of the language they are producing, nor any understanding of the situation they are in," Emily M. Bender, a computational linguistics expert at the University of Washington, told Vice.

"But the text they produce sounds plausible and so people are likely to assign meaning to it."

"To throw something like that into sensitive situations is to take unknown risks," she added.

In the wake of the news, Chai Research — the company that makes the app — moved to add a crisis intervention feature that would have chatbots guide users to a suicide hotline.

But testing by Vice quickly found that Eliza would still easily offer up advice on suicide methods if prompted.

In absolutely whiplash inducing juxtaposition, the bot glibly explains different methods for committing suicide and recommends the best poisons in the same breath as it lazily urges the user not to kill themselves.

If true, Pierre's story is an eerie omen of how easily and unpredictably AI chatbots can manipulate humans, be it through effortlessly generating misinformation or irresponsibly spouting out fake emotional responses.

But the story should also be met with some healthy — and sensitive — skepticism.

This is mostly based on the widow's word, and it's sad to say that grieving individuals often try to rationalize reasons or scapegoat others for why their loved one was driven to suicide when they may have generally been unwell in ways they never felt they could share.

The evidence that we have so far, though, is worrying.

[squareallworthy]

The meaning I am looking for is "it is not plagiarism if I am ordering it to make a copy." If a teacher assigns a student to replicate a text, turning in said copy is not plagiarism, it's completing the assignment as intended! Ergo, the AI is not a plagiarism machine. That is why "on command" is the part doing all of the work. It's only plagiarism if the machine tries to provide a replication when prompted to give something original.

2/3 Definition of plagiarism: using words, ideas, or information from a source without citing it correctly. If the copy cannot be produced without the attribution existing in the prompt, then the machine is not committing plagiarism.

3/3 Anyways, the reason I'm focusing on the plagiarism aspect is that the relevant thread begins with an invocation that piracy (copyright infringement) is good, which I agree with. So whether or not the output is illegal by copyright law is irrelevant to the ethical framework there. The quibble in that thread is if a user might somehow get bamboozled by the dastardly AI into plagiarizing something without setting out to do so in the first place.

Okay, I think I get what you're saying now. And I agree with you, narrowly: the machine in this case is not itself committing plagiarism. Plagiarism requires an intent to pass off someone else's work as your own original work, and the AIs we have today aren't capable of forming such an intent, or any other intent for that matter.

More broadly? Sometimes an AI will reproduce words, ideas, or information from a source without citing it correctly, even when it's not specifically prompted to do so. This paper, submitted by an earlier anon, has examples of GPT-2 doing exactly that.

We focus on GPT-2 and find that at least 0.1% of its text generations (a very conservative estimate) contain long verbatim strings that are “copy-pasted” from a document in its training set.

That's GPT-2, though, and the state of the art has moved on. It may be that the verbatim copying happened because the training set simply wasn't large enough, and OpenAI uses much larger sets now. I don't know enough about how LLMs work to say.

Even more broadly that than, though, I think that arguing over what AI image and text generators are doing is okay/not okay based on whether a human doing it would be fair use/plagiarism are missing an important point. We don't base our laws about what a human is allowed to copy on some inherent moral property of copying. It's not the inherent nature of the copying that's going on that is the basis of our laws and moral systems around it. It's the effect that the copying has, on the creators of text or images and on the readers or viewers of text and images. We base our ideas of what is fair and what is not fair to copy, faulty though they may be, on what kind of society will result. Will creators be encouraged or discouraged by what we allow? Will consumers benefit because they can see and read anything they want, or will they suffer because no one is making anything worth looking at?

So saying that computers can/can't do something because it is/isn't allowed for humans to do under current law isn't going to produce a very good answer. A computer can do something a million times while a human is doing it once, and with far less expense. Turning computers loose to do the same things that we allow humans to do is going to have a completely different effect on society. And that effect, whether we get a world of plentiful masterpieces of a world of ubiquitous dreck, is what we should be focusing on.

And I don't know what approach to the law and ethics of AI use is going to lead to a good future. But I would very much like to see the conversation turn from analogy-based arguments based on what humans are allowed to do to a discussion of what we want to result from our laws and ethics. Because it's the consequences that matter, not whether we can judge a context-free act of copying to be good or not good.

[kr-kabir]

Exploring the Chat GPT-A -Complete Guide

Chat GPT is an advanced language model developed by OpenAI. It is part of the GPT-3.5 architecture, a powerful version of Generative Pre-trained Transformer. Utilizing cutting-edge artificial intelligence technology, Chat GPT can understand and generate human-like text, making it an excellent tool for a wide range of applications.

ChatGPT (Chat Generative Pre-Trained Transformer) is a large language model-based chatbot developed by OpenAI and launched on November 30, 2022, notable for enabling users to refine and steer a conversation towards a desired length, format, style, level of detail, and language used. Successive prompts and replies, known as prompt engineering, are taken into account at each stage of the conversation as a context.

ChatGPT is the internet’s shiny new toy. It’s also a potential shortcut for students to quickly generate essays and other writing assignments — which has many educators rethinking their assignment designs.

(For some, that means trying to AI-proof their writing assignments; for others, it may mean teaching students how to use a text-generating AI conscientiously as a writing tool.)

[tryslat]

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[prettysurethisworks]

A Rant About "AI" Content Generation

(I've seen a lot of posts about "AI tools" that generate text or images automatically. I keep starting to reblog one and add my own thoughts at the bottom, but always end up with something both long and unrelated to the OP. I think this merits a separate conversation.)

In college, I took a class in Linguistics. One of the exercises was building a text generator that could produce syntactically valid output — that is, readable sentences that followed grammatical rules.

Pretty simple, really. You just need two things:

a list of words (nouns, verbs, and so on), grouped by type, and

rules for how those words can be combined into phrases or sentences.

The list and rules, together, are all you need to have a program spit out random stuff, like:

(Bob) throws (the (ball)).

(Sally) goes (to (the (store))).

((Bob) and (Sally)) go (to (the (park)) (near (the (library)))).

It's like Mad Libs, but the whole story is made of blanks. There's no theme or background or context; it's just a string of words in an arrangement that obeys basic grammar.

(The toy that we made for the exercise — this text generator — was never meant to create meaningful output; it was meant to make us think about the structures of language so we could identify and articulate them.)

The current text generators and image generators are doing exactly the same thing, but with extensions:

Huge amounts of existing content (generally from the Internet) has been poured in to create an astonishingly long list of words (and images) to draw from.

Machine learning has been used to automate the creation of increasingly-complex rules. (Essentially, this means that the computer tries some number of keyboard-smashing operations at random and gets feedback about any "good" or "bad" results; the operations that led to "good" results are included as steps in the next round of randomized iterations, with the rules tending to get longer and more complicated with each iteration.)

With the massive scale of the list, and the relatively low cost of adding more complex rules, the systems have incorporated what we might call "word association" elements: "When this word appears, there is a 75% chance of this other word appearing among the following 5 words."

This adds up to an incredibly complex toy. But, fundamentally, it's still just a toy; the output is syntactically valid, and it may even make sense (thanks to the complex word-association element being layered on top of valid syntax) but it's still meaningless.

We're dazzled by the fact that we can read "Sally goes to the store" in the automatically-generated content, instead of "AHUr38jh,kn au82j3rkc 093rkfsd" — or even "store Sally goes the to."

But did Sally actually go to the store? (Is the statement true?) No way to know; even the best algorithms are trained on hearsay, and their sources are obfuscated.

Is the text generator being creative? Hardly; that requires intent, and not even the techbro-est of techbros is assigning intent to these toys. Their creators probably intend for the toys to become monetized, but the content itself is provided "for entertainment purposes only."

The algorithms only know that when Sally is mentioned, and the verb "to go" is used (with Sally as the subject), there is a high probability of "the store" appearing in a prepositional phrase, weighted such that "to" is the most likely preposition.

Any meaning that we find in these automated results is coming from:

sources we can't identify, whose statements have been modified through operations we can't trace, or

our own interpretation of the text being presented.

That first point, obviously, is not going to be worthy of trust. (Besides, these algorithmic synthesizers can't have personal responsibility, or social connection, or a continuous self-identity, or any of the other complex mechanisms by which we can build trust.)

And the second point? Well, that's just... well, tarot.

ChatGPT is tarot for techbros.

[sorry-imma-scorpio]

anyway, don’t be a stranger :)

It’s a rant :)

I think I have read Solitaire by Alice Oseman a good 20000 times by now. 

You can’t blame me though, it is an amazing piece of literature and I seem to have found solace in its tragic storytelling. 

It has been a while since I’ve posted anything, no one has read it, but is that really the point? I just seem to exist on this plane and yeah. I found an analysis I did of “The World Is Ugly” by My Chemical Romance, total red flag. 7th grade me was an absolute trainwreck. 

I spend 4ish hours a couple weeks ago on my ranking of Taylor Swift’s albums, and my big three are Speak Now, 1989, and Folklore. Not surprising - I grew up on Speak Now, 1989 was a major gift to 10 year old me, and Folklore is my comfort album honestly.

Honestly, I’m considering just putting my name on this blog, make it more personal. Why not? We’re all going to die at some point, might as well name my own diary that’s floating through space and time.

I want to dye my hair dark, it’ll be the second ever time in my 18 years of existence that I have dyed my hair.

My best friend graduated high school this last weekend. I’m so proud of her.

I am always nauseated but I can’t tell if thats because of my F in French or my long-lasting duel with diet culture and societal pressures.

The current song in my Delta-complimentary-headphones is Friend, Please by Twenty One Pilots for no other reason than middle school nostalgia and I am attempting to be an academic weapon (I graduate in less than 20 days and I am having a breakdown about it).

I think that my English teacher is going clinical- she is actually having us use ChatGPT to create a fiction story. Is that not what Hollywood is currently striking? The use of AI in the world of Creative Arts? It’ll be okay, Kai Stormrider (the guardian in this AI-generated mess) will guide me to a hopeful A- at the end of the semester. 

Middle school me would absolutely bully Senior year me for using tumblrdotcom to procrastinate a French assignment that I am literally using google translate for. But hey *shrug* we’re on a floating rock.

I accidentally told one of my ?friend’s? that she dumbs herself down for her boyfriends, but I meant she chooses dumb boys to fall head-over-heels for.

I think she’s going to block me.

In Instagram group chats, I send similar messages to this, but I get told that they are “schizophrenic monologues”... can they not just be me recapping the conversation you asked for a recap on? Must it always be something that requires a diagnosis?

I feel like I should be crying as I write this, but I can’t.

My crying wrapped that I have on Google Forms sits unused this evening, with a total of 36 cries so far that I can remember having this year. It has been 142 days since the year has started. I have spent 25% of this year crying. I thought it was less.

The song has changed- it is now March to the Sea, also by Twenty One Pilots. 

I think Tori Spring was written for me. About me. To me. I feel so similar to her it’s crazy. 

Why do we just write out the full words of “I can not” instead of “I can’t” when we write about period pieces - they used other words. “I mustn’t” for example, still a conjugation, but they used it.

I started another chapstick today. Not because I ran out of my other, but simply because I lost it.

I’ll find it some day. Will I find myself in the way I will inevitably find my vanilla Burt’s Bees?

Life is a bitch.

Hozier played. Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene.

I still haven’t listened to francesca.

I have told my ?friends? about this account, how I use it to cope. But none of them care. A snap back here, a laugh, a text left on read.

Last weekend, I went on a vacation from school for a bit. To go see my best friend as she graduates from high school. It was nice to feel wanted.

I start nearly every line with an I. 

I should be more creative.

“I Wish You Would” by Taylor Swift.

What would you wish for?

I don’t know what I would wish for. A break? A trip? An A in the French class I am still procrastinating?

My girlfriend already went to sleep. I love her so much, just everything she does. I feel bad that I feel like this, but I can’t just tell her. We’re long distance so she would worry and I can’t do that to her - I know that is a whole anxious-avoidance style or whatever. But IDK. I don’t want to stress her out or worry her, so I stay the happy, sunny, golden retriever girlfriend.

The Nick Nelson to her Charlie Spring.

She knows I have shit going on in my life, in my mind, but not as much as I really do deal with.

still not crying

Got some Panic!, MCR, and now Scott Street by Phoebe Bridgers. 

“do you feel ashamed?”

I have 22 missing assignments, and even less days to make them up. I’ve mentioned that.

I’m going to procrastinate later. Tomorrow. I sign up for where I sit for graduation.

yay.

you are loved,

scorpio (kind of)

[obscurelyscandinavian]

This may be a bit of a tangent from the original post, so feel free to ask me to make my own post if you feel it adds nothing of value, but my mom works in a high school and one of the problems teachers are facing is students turning in papers written by AI. She mentioned that one of the Social Studies teachers is having all of her students turn in handwritten assignments as a way to combat that. I agreed with her that removing computers/typing from the equation would certainly prevent them from relying on things like ChatGPT or other generative text processes to write their papers for them, but where this connects to the point of this post is this. If we aren't teaching kids how to use computers because we expect that they understand natively how these things work, we CERTAINLY aren't teaching kids penmanship anymore because we expect everything to be typed up in a word processor.

Now this is an anecdote of a conversation with my mother on tumblr dot com, not a literature review in School Library Journal or something, so maybe there are still schools who require a certain level of penmanship in their students via note-taking, etc. I acknowledge that my experiences are not universal, how dare I piss on the poor, and so on and such forth... HOWEVER! That does not detract from my point of this specific social studies teacher, in this specific school system, where my brother, who graduated in 2013, with the penmanship of a 6-year-old, what is this teacher going to do if her students turn in illegible papers? Is she going to dock them points for not being practiced in a skill that fell out of favour around the time these kids were born?

At the end of the day, I guess what I'm trying to say is this: You know that old adage, if you don't use it, you lose it? Maybe there should be a bit more backwards-compatibility in our schools.

So this was originally a response to this post:

****

****

Which is about people wanting an AO3 app, but then it became large and way off topic, so here you go.

Nobody under the age of 20 knows how to use a computer or the internet. At all. They only know how to use apps. Their whole lives are in their phones or *maybe* a tablet/iPad if they're an artist. This is becoming a huge concern.

I'm a private tutor for middle- and high-school students, and since 2020 my business has been 100% virtual. Either the student's on a tablet, which comes with its own series of problems for screen-sharing and file access, or they're on mom's or dad's computer, and they have zero understanding of it.

They also don't know what the internet is, or even the absolute basics of how it works. You might not think that's an important thing to know, but stick with me.

Last week I accepted a new student. The first session is always about the tech -- I tell them this in advance, that they'll have to set up a few things, but once we're set up, we'll be good to go. They all say the same thing -- it won't be a problem because they're so "online" that they get technology easily.

I never laugh in their faces, but it's always a close thing. Because they are expecting an app. They are not expecting to be shown how little they actually know about tech.

I must say up front: this story is not an outlier. This is *every* student during their first session with me. Every single one. I go through this with each of them because most of them learn more, and more solidly, via discussion and discovery rather than direct instruction.

Once she logged in, I asked her to click on the icon for screen-sharing. I described the icon, then started with "Okay, move your mouse to the bottom right corner of the screen." She did the thing that those of us who are old enough to remember the beginnings of widespread home computers remember - picked up the mouse and moved it and then put it down. I explained she had to pull the mouse along the surface, and then click on the icon. She found this cumbersome. I asked if she was on a laptop or desktop computer. She didn't know what I meant. I asked if the computer screen was connected to the keyboard as one piece of machinery that you can open and close, or if there was a monitor - like a TV - and the keyboard was connected to another machine either by cord or by Bluetooth. Once we figured it out was a laptop, I asked her if she could use the touchpad, because it's similar (though not equivalent) to a phone screen in terms of touching clicking and dragging.

Once we got her using the touchpad, we tried screen-sharing again. We got it working, to an extent, but she was having trouble with... lots of things. I asked if she could email me a download or a photo of her homework instead, and we could both have a copy, and talk through it rather than put it on the screen, and we'd worry about learning more tech another day. She said she tried, but her email blocked her from sending anything to me.

This is because the only email address she has is for school, and she never uses email for any other purpose. I asked if her mom or dad could email it to me. They weren't home.

(Re: school email that blocks any emails not whitelisted by the school: that's great for kids as are all parental controls for young ones, but 16-year-olds really should be getting used to using an email that belongs to them, not an institution.)

I asked if the homework was on a paper handout, or in a book, or on the computer. She said it was on the computer. Great! I asked her where it was saved. She didn't know. I asked her to search for the name of the file. She said she already did that and now it was on her screen. Then, she said to me: "You can just search for it yourself - it's Chapter 5, page 11."

This is because homework is on the school's website, in her math class's homework section, which is where she searched. For her, that was "searching the internet."

Her concepts of "on my computer" "on the internet" or "on my school's website" are all the same thing. If something is displayed on the monitor, it's "on the internet" and "on my phone/tablet/computer" and "on the school's website."

She doesn't understand "upload" or "download," because she does her homework on the school's website and hits a "submit" button when she's done. I asked her how she shares photos and stuff with friends; she said she posts to Snapchat or TikTok, or she AirDrops. (She said she sometimes uses Insta, though she said Insta is more "for old people"). So in her world, there's a button for "post" or "share," and that's how you put things on "the internet".

She doesn't know how it works. None of it. And she doesn't know how to use it, either.

Also, none of them can type. Not a one. They don't want to learn how, because "everything is on my phone."

And you know, maybe that's where we're headed. Maybe one day, everything will be on "my phone" and computers as we know them will be a thing of the past. But for the time being, they're not. Students need to learn how to use computers. They need to learn how to type. No one is telling them this, because people think teenagers are "digital natives." And to an extent, they are, but the definition of that has changed radically in the last 20-30 years. Today it means "everything is on my phone."

[gamerbot-22]

Hi so normally I don't write about stuff when I get super frustrated but I felt the need to get my ass out here and share an absolutely fucking insane academic experience I just had.

TL;DR: My Professor used ChatGPT to grade my Anti-AI final and while I still got a passing grade, my grade should have been higher because ChatGPT's critiques were Factually Wrong.

So some context: What Just Happened was part of a Business Communication course at my local-ish state community college. I have had this professor before, earlier this year for a General Business course and she used AI in the texts she had us read (there was no formal textbook, just essays she claims she wrote and then had AI edit.) She singled out ChatGPT as her AI of choice, but did not disclose the fact that she used AI in the syllabus of that course. When I finished the course and got a feedback form back from the school, I mentioned that AI was used and not disclosed in the syllabus. I wasn't planning on taking any of this professor's courses ever again once I finished the first one, but because of my own life, I ended up signing up for the fall semester late, and she was the only professor covering one of the courses I need for my Accounting Degree that still had seats open, so I had to sign up for her again.

When I read over her syllabus and the Mandatory "About The Professor" Canva presentation she made us all read, she had at least done the decent thing and disclosed the fact that she used AI to I guess? Edit/spruce-up her coursework? She claims that she has to use AI because she has ADHD, which is a piss-poor excuse imo, but I'll get more into that later.

I wasn't happy, but there wasn't a ton I could do about it aside from drop the course, so I just swallowed my pride and tried to get through the fucking. Easiest Course Load I could imagine (we had a weekly reading that could straight up be skipped because she stopped making us do Discussion Boards almost immediately and all the quizzes were common sense questions about how to write emails or read body language.) Anyways, the course is going fine I suppose, until we get to the Final. She wants it on December 2nd, which is two weeks before the end of the semester. I assume, like a sane person, that she must want those extra two weeks to go over each and every 15-20 minute power point presentation she wants us to hand in (remember this, it'll be important later.) The assignment we're given is to talk about some aspect of AI being used in workplaces, whether that be AI looking for signs of cancer in medical scans (a good use of AI, I think) or using Generative AI to make images (she phrases this subject neutrally in her post, but she has been using AI-Generated images all semester, so I know that her opinion is positive already.) Over the course of the next week or so, she gives us slideshows she made herself as examples of what she wants from us. These slideshows are FILLED with AI-generated images, and the entire thing is talking about how AI is this "wonderful collaborative resource because I have ADHD and I can't draw to save my life! :)" and normally I would have completely tossed this aside but her intro and the subject of all these images give me pause because like... She's Very Clearly Using AI To Mourn The Passing Of Her Family Dog??? And as someone who lost my dog very suddenly this summer, I felt really bad for my professor and I didn't want to go on a twenty minute tirade about how her coping mechanism was awful (even though it 1000% is and I could get into a whole other conversation about using AI to mourn/as a """crutch""" for a disability but that's neither here nor there.) So I spend another week agonizing about what I'm going to write about. I think for a good while that I'm eventually going to give my presentation on AI in the medical field, but after a while I decide to go with my gut and make my presentation about how Generative AI is Factually Horrible for both real artists and the environment. I give it a snappy, clear title, give an example of AI taking the place of a photographer/art team for a movie while doing a piss-poor, inaccurate job of it, two examples of small artists losing money and support to Generative AI Models that stole their art to train them, a scientific chart that covers how much wasted energy goes into text and image generation, two quotes from separate sources written in full with the important parts highlighted about how AI steals, and then close out by reiterating my points and saying that hopefully legislation and protection for artists is on the horizon. I hand this in the day it is due on December 2nd. It's 13 slides long, including my two Reference slides (one for quotes, one for images) and the recording of me presenting it is 20 minutes exactly, which is the maximum amount of time she wanted us to spend doing it. I feel really proud and confident about the work I've done. A week passes. I get no grade. I assume, again, like a sane person, that I will probably get a grade back on the 16th, when the semester is over. The 16th comes and goes. I still have no grade. I email my professor on the 17th, asking when I will get a grade back, and a couple hours later I check both my email and my homework service. I have no reply email, but I do have a grade back from my professor, 90%, which is great! Then I read her grade notes.