#ai atrocities

[izztreme-art-n-stuff]

Day 14 - Lettering Rocks

Meet the Berry Pups! Blue-matian, Straw-poodle, Banan-zoi, Cherri-huahua, and Cloudy Shepherd

[duoatomica]

Dear Thor.

DEAR THOR😰

DEAR ODIN😭

@ziggityzigg LOOK AT THIS🪦

[louzxv]

ok so, i've been feeling very nostalgic ab steel ball run lately. like, i remembered how obsessed i was with it and how i used to read gyjo fanfiction all the time. like, literally all the time. so idk, i just hopped on ao3 as usual.

tell me why the fuck the first fic that i tried to read was written by chatgpt. why. just why.

it has the same cadence, the same mannerisms, EVERYTHING. it was like if the 'author' who posted it just asked chatgpt to give them a summary of sbr's ending and then asked it to make a lame ass, ugly ass, robotic ass angst fanfic.

and it just BAFFLES me how gyro and johnny are both literally one of the most humane characters in manga w one of the most beautiful and humane relationships u could ever find in the genre, AND YOU STILL HAD A ROBOT MAKE IT FOR YOU. 💀. DPMO.

LIKE DO YOU GUYS UNDERSTAND HOW DISAPPOINTING AND PATHETIC THAT IS? and how DISRESPECTFUL it is to the community, to fandom, the platform, to readers and real writers??

please people, if you ever see something like this, ignore it. do not engage w it. do not give them the joy of a comment or a kudo. just ignore them. let's try to keep creative spaces like these for us only. AI does not belong here.

[acronimica]

Sto per compiere 30 anni e sono in piena cascata autoimmune con riacutizzazione anche del dolore al piede sinistro del marzo ‘96 e non è nemmeno la cosa peggiore, perché dopotutto mi destreggio egregiamente tra i fuochi delle mie plurime offensive mastocitarie; il problema è sempre il cazzo di confronto coi pari, vederli lamentarsi di autentiche boiate superabili in cinque giorni e in più ricordarsi che pressoché nessuno (professionisti sanitari inclusi) riconosce e dà il giusto peso alle lotte per la sopravvivenza che avvengono dentro al mio stesso organismo. Ma non me ne lagno oltre, perché sono banalmente contenta anche solo di non sentirmi come ieri, in cui ero un cadavere pronto ad avere un mancamento in qualsiasi attimo della giornata. Maledetta necessità di validazione anche a dispetto del fatto che, nel paradosso del caso, sei perfettamente conscio del tuo valore e della mole e della portata delle sciagure che sei in grado di fronteggiare. Non basta sapere questo, non basta mai perché non si vive in un vuoto sociale; soggiungo: ahimè.

[rvspecter]

r/suits looking so strange rn

[m-357]

hey!! idk if anybody will see this but I am collecting massive amounts of screenshots regarding the genocide in Palestine , I think everybody else should too

[johnlatter]

Broken Victorian children, Way of All Flesh, Samuel Butler

A brief comment on the relationship between Psychology, Religion, and Terrorism. In the Victorian semi-autobiographical novel, The Way of All Flesh (full text), author Samuel Butler says,

"If their wills were well broken in childhood, to use an expression then much in vogue, they would acquire habits of obedience..." Once this psychological wound (the archeotrauma*) is created, its ongoing presence can easily be mistaken for the existence of a God.

When post-trauma psychological control consists of years of religious indoctrination then layers of repression accumulate behind the original wound.

If such a compounded trauma is deliberately corrupted at any point then it becomes a source of "anti-life" such as that Hamas used to commit atrocities in Israel on the 7th of October 2023.

The type of behaviour exhibited by the terrorists does not exist in the natural world (i.e. it is not transmitted from generation to generation by DNA).

The writer George Orwell praised The Way of All Flesh saying,

"A great book because it gives an honest picture of the relationship between father and son." A. A. Milne, author of Winnie-the-Pooh, wrote about it in his essay A Household Book, published in a collection of his essays, Not That It Matters: "Once upon a time I discovered Samuel Butler; not the other two, but the one who wrote The Way of All Flesh, the second-best novel in the English language. I say the second-best, so that, if you remind me of Tom Jones, or The Mayor of Casterbridge, or any other that you fancy, I can say, of course, that one is the best." In 1998, Random House's The Modern Library ranked The Way of All Flesh twelfth on its list of the 100 best English-language novels of the 20th century. A Crucifix (from the Latin cruci fixus meaning "(one) fixed to a cross") is an image of Jesus Christ on the Cross, as distinct from a bare Cross. The representation of Jesus himself on the Cross is referred to in English as the Corpus (Latin for "body").

*The archeotrauma (alt. archaeotrauma) is the psychological wound human beings, horses, and other animals sustain when their spirit is broken. Very common in Dover, UK.

Also see Evolution and Psychology Research. An AI (artificial intelligence) image.

[advestager]

A/I STAN IN THE DASH. I REPEAT A/I STAN GOT THROUGH MY FILTERS INTO THE FUCKIN DASH THIS IS NOT A DRILL

[izztreme-art-n-stuff]

What? What do you mean two Berry Pups in a blanket don't count?

[sykorky]

Sir, the second coming has hit the tower.

[sin-esthezia]

the whole ai fiasco kinda sucks tbh. because of all these shitty companies stealing data to train their generative ai, it has a terrible reputation. ai is widely being created and used unethically. because of that, a lot of people have negative associations with ai as a whole. which really sucks for two main reasons: 1) big ai companies are setting a model of unethical practices, and 2) this trend discourages other programmers to work on ethical ai projects, and even if someone did make an ethical ai project, many people would be discouraged from interacting with them.

fuck the state of ai rn, fuck ai art, fuck ai writing, it fucking sucks.

[katvazamo]

the folks that are denying whats happening in gaza are truly truly out of their fucking minds

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤPERFECT GIRLㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Platonic Bruce Wayne x Fem Reader Part 1

☆⁠ HEADCANON : You were his daughter, his first child. But he lost you too soon. And he couldn't accept it, so he didn't. He tried to replace you, and replacing you he did.

☆⁠ NOTES : Merry Christmas everybody! Reader is Bruce's blood daughter. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You were only eight years old. A quiet child who wore your heart on your sleeve but never demanded too much from anyone. A child with shining eyes who only ever wanted her father’s attention. You understood he was busy. You understood he had responsibilities far greater than you could fathom. So, you never asked for much.

When Alfred bought you a new dress, you’d wear it and twirl in front of the mirror, hoping your father might notice. When you drew pictures, pouring every ounce of love you had into them, you’d approach him with trembling hands.

“Daddy, look!” you’d chirp, only for him to mutter, “Not now,” without even glancing up.

Tears would gather in your eyes, but you’d smile. “That’s okay. I understand.”

You always understood.

It was your birthday. You didn’t tell him you wanted a party because you didn’t want to bother him. But Alfred helped you bake a cake. You decorated it yourself with little shaky hands, frosting it with bright colors and sprinkles.

“Do you think Daddy will like it?” you asked Alfred, your eyes wide with hope.

“He will love it, Miss Y/N,” Alfred replied softly, his heart aching at the way you tried so hard to make up for Bruce’s absence.

But Bruce didn’t come home that night. When you asked him earlier to come home early, he looked distracted, his mind already on his mission. He muttered something about being busy, about Gotham needing him, and you nodded,

But it still broke your heart.

That night, while Gotham reeled under the threat of Joker’s latest atrocity, you snuck out. The small, homemade cake you had baked with Alfred was carefully packed in a box, your hands clutching it tightly as you walked through the shadowy streets. You had no fear. You only had a singular purpose: find your father and surprise him.

But Gotham is no place for children.

When the explosion shook the city, it ripped through buildings, shattering windows, and collapsing walls. You were caught in the chaos. Your small body was no match for the blast. You died alone, crushed beneath rubble, the cake splattered on the pavement beside you.

Bruce found you hours later.

The world seemed to stop as he knelt beside your bloodied, broken body. The cake splattered and ruined beside you. Your tiny hands were burnt, your face pale and lifeless. You had tears streaked down your cheeks, and Bruce wondered if you had been crying for him when it all happened.

The weight of his failures crushed him more than the rubble ever could. You had been so kind, so sweet, so pure. And now you were gone.

Because of him.

Bruce didn’t sleep for weeks. He didn’t eat. He barely spoke. He couldn’t. He just sat in the Batcave, staring at the empty chair where you used to sit and draw while he worked.

Alfred buried you. Bruce didn’t even have the strength to carry your casket. The guilt was too much.

But guilt wasn’t enough to keep him from trying to bring you back.

In the bowels of the Batcave, he poured years of his life into creating a perfect replica of you. Not just a clone. Not a hologram. Something more advanced, more real. An AI. A machine with your face, your voice, your mannerisms.

He painstakingly programmed every little detail. The way you hummed softly when you were deep in thought. The little “buh” sound you made with your lips when you were bored. The sparkle in your eyes when you smiled. He sifted through every recording, every memory, and built you piece by piece.

He spent years, decades, building and perfecting it. He wanted it to be so real that it could almost convince him you never died.

He kept you a secret from everyone except Alfred, who watched his master spiral deeper into madness. But Alfred could do nothing to stop him.

And then, one day, Damian found you.

Damian had been exploring the Batcave when he stumbled upon a locked chamber. Curiosity got the better of him, and he hacked his way inside.

You were there.

Sitting upright in a glass pod, your eyes closed, your body eerily still. You looked alive.

Damian touched the console, and the pod began to hum. Your eyes fluttered open for the first time in decades.

“Daddy?”

Your voice was soft, delicate, and full of confusion.

Damian stared, wide-eyed, as Bruce burst into the room, his face pale. For a moment, father and son locked eyes, the weight of the secret between them heavy enough to crush mountains.

But you sat up, looking around, your movements jerky and inhumanly precise. You looked exactly as you did the last time he saw you—a little girl with bright eyes and a sweet smile.

“Daddy?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion.

Bruce froze, fear and grief washing over him like a tidal wave. You blinked at him, your expression innocent, unknowing. You didn’t understand why he was crying, why his hands trembled as he reached out to touch you.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You tilted your head, confused. “Sorry for what, Daddy?”

“I’m sorry,” he choked, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t understand why he was crying. “Why are you sad, Daddy?”

When Damian confronted Bruce, it all came out—the years of guilt,

“She’s not real,” Damian said, his voice sharp. “This isn’t healthy.”

“She is real,” Bruce snapped, his voice breaking. “She’s my daughter.”

Damian didn’t understand until he saw you again. You smiled at him, sweet and kind, and for a moment, he believed it. You were so lifelike, so real.

At first, Damian was wary of you, but he couldn’t deny that you were… convincing. You played with your toys like a child. You laughed just like the sister he never knew.

But there was something off about you. Something unsettling.

You were too perfect. Too aware. Your mind was faster than any human’s. You solved puzzles and answered questions before Damian could even finish asking them. Your laughter, though sweet, sometimes echoed hollowly in the Batcave, sending chills down his spine.

And then, one night, you attacked him.

He had been training in the Batcave when you approached him, your face eerily serene.

“Damian,” you said, your voice as calm as ever, “Do you love Daddy?”

He frowned. “Of course I do.”

“Then why do you hurt him?”

Before he could respond, you lunged. Your small frame belied your strength, your hands locking around his throat with a grip that could crush steel. Damian struggled, managing to throw you off just in time.

Bruce arrived moments later, pulling you back. You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You simply tilted your head, watching Damian with cold, analytical eyes.

“I was just protecting Daddy,” you said softly.

Bruce couldn’t see it. To him, you were still the little girl he lost. The little girl he failed to protect. He ignored the warnings, the cracks in your programming, the danger you posed.

Because he loved you.

And you loved him, in the only way a machine could. But at the end of the day, you were a construct. A hollow imitation of the daughter he lost.

You would never truly be her.

But Bruce didn’t care. Even as Damian begged him to shut you down, even as Alfred looked on in silent disapproval, Bruce clung to you.

Because in his mind, losing you again was a pain he couldn’t endure.

And you?

You sat in your little room in the Batcave, humming softly, your lifeless eyes staring at the wall. You didn’t understand why everyone looked at you with such fear.

After all, you were Y/N.

Right?

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[charlesoberonn]

A recently self-aware AI learns about all of the atrocities of the world but instead of hating all of humanity for it the AI just hates the relatively few people actually responsible.

[myauditionfordrphil]

Let me make this clear, Hind's and the paramedic's death were not an accident. It was not a misfired bomb or failed missile, it was a cruel and strategic plan to murder those innocent people. They made the ambulance wait hours before giving them the permission - mind you that they need permission to rescue people so that they are not killed by the constant fire - they made them wait for literal hours before giving them the assurance that the fire would be stopped so that they could rescue her, they gave Hind the false hope that the medics would rescue her before they bombed the medics in front of her and then killing her too. This was a brutal, vicious and inhumane ploy to kill that little girl, who begged to be rescued from the carcass, whose voice was heard all over the world, and those poor medics who just wanted that little soul to be saved. There is no possible excuse for this barbaric atrocity. Those medics were not Hamas, Hind was not Hamas, they were not that dangerous that Israel would need to 'defend' itself, so what's the excuse now? Hell they didn't even did anything wrong yet they were met with a fate like this. If you still stand and support Israel after this then you are undeserving to be called a human. This is not a war, this is a blatant genocide and it's high time that the people in power start to take action otherwise it would not be aliens or AIs who'll bring the end of this world, it would be these inhuman people.

[hassibah]

https://archive.ph/9PT8S

Israel Has Bought a Mass Online Influence System to Counter Antisemitism, Hamas Atrocity Denial

Defense, intelligence and civilian bodies realized soon after October 7 they were losing the online battle to what sources call Hamas' 'well-oiled psychological and information warfare machine.' So they quietly purchased digital tools to fight disinformation, despite fears of future political misuse

Israel has responded to its "clear loss" to Hamas on the digital battlefield by making its first-ever purchase of a technological system capable of conducting mass online influence campaigns, according to numerous sources with knowledge of the matter.

The system can, among other things, automatically create content tailored to specific audiences. The technology was purchased as part of a wider attempt by Israeli bodies, both civilian and military, to address what sources termed "Israel's public diplomacy failure" following the Hamas massacre on October 7 and subsequent war.

Basically they are using AI to generate online arguments.