#i wrote this in one go

[earthtooz]

BABE I HAD AN IDEA- Reo Mikage ANGST where he calls reader a gold digging whore in the middle of an argument, ultimately affirming all of her insecurities so he has to figure out a way to show that he didn't mean it and that he's sorry without using his disgustingly abundant wealth 💔 anyways ilysm hope you take care of yourself

NO YOU ARE LITERALLY DISGUSTING FOR THIS (affectionate) YOUR MIND >>> YOU ARE SOOOOO RIGHT. SHUT UP THIS WILL LITERALLY BE THE MOST SCRUMPTIOUS FIC EVER BECAUSE I AM LITERALLY ABOUT TO PUT MY WHOLE EARTHUSSY INTO INCORPORATING THIS IDEA SOMEWHERE !!! BUT FOR NOW, TAKE THIS SNIPPET I WHIPPED UP IN ONE SITTING.

girl feel free to come back into my inbox WHENEVER and giving me your juicy ideas bc holy shit i loved this.

CW: HURT/COMFORT - A LOT OF BOTH, SWEARING, UNEDITED - I WAS GOING THRU IT WHILST WRITING THIS DON'T LOOK AT ME!

IMAGINE THIS: it's been a rough night for both you and reo, he's been through a lot in the past weeks because his dad just had to during the middle of soccer season to lecture reo about how to run a big business. the transition process is beginning to happen since father mikage is about to retire and although your purple-haired boyfriend has been preparing for this his whole life, having gone to business school part-time and graduating with honours, there's still a little part of him that feels weary from all the responsibilities.

all this accumulated stress needs to have an outlet eventually, right? welp, you just happened to be there at the right (wrong) time. you were simply delivering a platter of apples to your boyfriend who had his head in his hands, hunched over an endless pile of paperwork that was beginning to irk him with each passing second. countless images of him shredding up the paper flowed into his mind, a fury that manifested into his reality, except the paper was you D,:

one thing evolved into another, reo's endless stream of venomous words didn't stop flowing out of him as he spat poison after poison, burning you with the intensity of it all.

"you're so overbearing, can't you see that i'm fine? unlike you i can handle myself when things get hard," he spits, eyeing you with fury in his eyes, one that makes you gulp thickly.

"reo-"

-but you wouldn't know the first thing about fighting for what you want right, you fucking gold-digger."

that stops you in your tracks, silences you effortlessly, causing you to let your hands drop limply back to your sides as you stare at your boyfriend blankly. you're sinking into an abyss of hurt and insecurity, it's getting harder to breathe because of the way your chest swells with anger.

reo only continues, not noticing the way you physically and emotionally drop. "even if you don't give me attention for one second of the day, i won't forget you exist, so stop being so clingy and unnecessary! my money isn't going anywhere either, you don't need to occupy majority of my day so leave me alone. go shop online or something."

that was it. was that all reo perceived you to be? a dent in his money, the expenses of his bank account?

"fine. goodbye," you simply mutter before slipping through his office door, out in the hallway.

"don't bother me whilst i'm in here," he says with finality, one last declaration before you shut the door behind you.

the luxurious walls of reo's penthouse look down at you mockingly, the spacious area caging you in, chanting 'gold-digger' over and over again until it's all you hear.

staying here feels wrong.

so, you grab your purse and leave, as quietly as possible. slipping down to the garage where your (second hand) car was parked, you start the engine up and begin reversing out of the parking lot.

you begin to reflect on your relationship with reo. you love him, you really do, you love him because he's reo, the man who was always capable of making you smile, laugh, and make you feel like you were on top of the world. his money and fame was an added bonus that you truly didn't care much about.

but ever since dating him, you've had your own insecurities that have been forced on you by other people. there were crowds calling you a 'gold digger' who was only with reo 'for the money', and although you were sure of yourself and your intentions, your armour breaks down sometimes.

what reo said tonight was the final jab that allowed it to fully disintegrate.

you had a stable job of your own and finances to your own name, money wasn't something you avidly chased, sure having a few zeroes in your bank account was nice but that was all you really needed. as long as you could buy necessities and spoil yourself, it was satisfactory, and you could provide that for yourself!

reo loved to spoil you, showering you in luxurious gifts that you never knew how to accept. it would take a great deal of convincing for you to take what he bought you, and when you promised him to stop buying them for you, he agreed before buying you more material stuff.

as you pull up to the parking lot of the apartment complex that you resided in, you get into the elevator with a heavy heart, pressing the button to your floor with a lot of emotions.

the ride is silent. everything is so silent.

your apartment is even more silent. it's unused, slightly barren. your furniture was still there, except some dust had gathered on the tables and cabinets from how long you've neglected it.

the only reason you were able to keep your apartment was because you had no expenses outflowing since reo took care of almost everything. anything you needed, he bought it, groceries, bills, whatever, were charged on his card. for a period of time, your bank account merely grew and never decreased.

and since you hadn't been here for a while, electricity and water bills never bothered you too much.

you flop onto your made bed with a sigh. it wasn't as soft as reo's but you didn't find it in you to care, you just needed some well-deserved shut eye.

well, 'shut eye' occurred for merely an hour before your phone started vibrating violently.

with a groan, you shove your face back into your pillows before blindly reaching for your phone.

you already knew who it would be without looking at the caller id. of course reo would be looking for you, noting your obvious absence in his penthouse.

"hello?" you mutter.

"y/n? where the hell are you?" comes reo's frantic voice from the other line. he sounds genuinely concerned.

"doesn't matter."

"i'm sorry for everything i said. please, come back."

"reo, i'm tired, i can't do this with you right now."

"i'm sorry, i'm really really sorry."

"i don't want to hear this right now."

"i love you."

you sigh and you're sure reo can hear it on his end. unsure of how to respond, you just hang up on him before throwing your phone away. normally, you would feel bad about the way you left him, but that wasn't the case this time. you just needed to sleep on this.

but, it was reo you were talking about, and the last thing he was going to let you do was sleep without him.

at 1:24am, there's a series of ferocious knocks on your door, followed by screams of your name.

oh my god it was so embarrassing, you literally shoot out of bed as soon as you register what was happening and dash for your door. you don't want to disturb your neighbours' sleep and let them hear that the pathetic grovelling of your boyfriend. the entire hallway could hear reo and his shouting.

you open the door, pull him in, and slam it shut behind you again, leaving the purple-haired to stare at you with a bewildered expression.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss.

he looks at you the same way a puppy does when its owner kicked it out of the house.

you should've known that merely telling reo 'i don't want to hear this right now' would not be enough to pacify his determination and the fact that you hung up on him only intensified his pettiness. the purple-haired always sought you out, pulling himself into your orbit like a magnet. where you went, reo followed, even if it was to the ends of the world.

he had the money to do whatever he wanted, you suppose.

"i wanted to make sure you were safe," he pouts. "i didn't know whether you'd be here or not."

"well, i'm safe, and i'm here. so."

"i can see that," he leans against the back of your couch. reo looks so out of place in your small apartment, awkwardly playing with his hands. "so... should we go to bed?"

the audacity. "what do you mean 'we'? go back home, reo, i'll see you some other time."

as you turn around to go back to your bedroom, reo's quick enough to round around you, blocking you from the hallway with his larger figure.

"but you are my home. please, i'm really sorry about what i said, i didn't mean it," he pleads, grabbing your face so you could look him square in the eye.

you step out of his grasp easily, shaking him off. if you were in your right mind, you would've seen the look of heartbreak on reo's face.

"sure, if you didn't mean it then you wouldn't have said it in the first place, mikage."

you swerve around him to reach your bedroom and he follows you the entire time, trailing behind you, desperate for an ounce of your attention.

"i know i fucked up, but i didn't mean to hurt you and project my frustrations like that onto you when you were just trying to care for me." you sit down on your bed with a sigh and reo takes a seat beside you. "you know i love you right? like, a lot."

that's right. if there's one thing about reo it's that he loves you to an endless degree.

"thank you for always caring for me. i know you don't do it because you're after my money or fame, but because you want to ensure that i'm healthy and not rotting in all that i have to do," his voice cracks. is he beginning to cry. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

you let a beat of silence pass by before dropping your walls. he was always going to smash through them no matter what.

"i've always felt insecure in our relationship," you confess, no louder than an exhale and if reo wasn't holding on to every action of yours, he wouldn't have heard you. "being called a gold digger became normal when i started dating you and i didn't really care. well- i tried not to care."

you continue. "i don't want to let these comments get to me, but then you said it and... i don't know, it just felt horrible."

you feel an arm sneak under your leg, and another hand come to your elbow, both of which simultaneously pull you to straddle reo's lap. you don't look him in the eye- something he frowns at.

"i love you for you. you're the best i'll ever have, reo, but sometimes i-"

"-please don't finish that sentence," he murmurs, breath fanning against your face.

you meet his gaze. he's crying freely. tears are running down his cheeks like streams and you instinctively bring use your thumbs to catch the drops. you hate it when he cries.

"i don't want it to be anyone else but you," confesses the purple-haired. "i hate it when we're separated, i can't stay away from you too long or i think i will go insane."

his statement causes you to giggle a little.

"you laugh but i'm telling the truth."

"i laugh because you make me happy."

his arms wound around your waist, keeping you pressed against him, leaving you with no room to escape or part from him. just what reo likes.

"i'm sorry for what i said," he says against your collarbone. "when i didn't see you in our home, i didn't know what to think. i got so scared for a second because i had no idea where you could've gone so i started spamming your number-"

"-yeah wait, was calling me 24 times necessary?"

"i was going to keep calling you until you picked up so it could've taken 24 or 1000 times or more. now let me speak." you nod wordlessly, smiling a little at how silly reo can be. "and when i realised that you went back to your apartment, i felt horrible that i drove you out."

he looks up at you with glossy eyes.

"you came here because you wanted to prove me wrong, right? because you bought all this by yourself and don't need me, right?"

"well, kind of, but i also didn't want to be around you so i came back here."

reo frowns before leaning in to press delicate kisses to your neck. "please don't leave me. i need you by my side," he inhales before whispering his next statement. "even if you don't need me."

a hand of yours go up to thread through his hair. "don't say that," you use your other hand to direct his face away from your neck, pressing a kiss against his puckered lips. "i absolutely adore you, my love. you're my favourite person ever."

he smiles before leaning in again, kissing you with more fervour and passion. you can feel another tear slide down his cheek.

"lets go to bed, reo," you say when you part and he simply nods, laying you on the side of the bed before laying beside you, arms naturally finding themselves around your waist as reo tugs you as humanely close as possible. "sorry if this mattress isn't as comfortable as your twelve grand one back home."

"i couldn't care less," he whispers whilst tracing patterns on your bare skin.

so long as it's you he's next to, reo doesn't have a lot to complain about.

[yamelblr]

my kids are watching pocoyo, and yours should too.

note: i don't have kids; the headline is merely an expression.

so, as someone who is very passionate about art, i try to hold back from critiquing artworks solely based on personal preference...

that being said, i really like minimalism; the concept of achieving something grand with minimal resources captivates me, and pocoyo, in its ambitious yet lighthearted approach, successfully embraces this artistic philosophy in a way that is both interesting and groundbreaking.

in contrast to the prevalent corporate memphis seen in various enterprises' branding, pocoyo distinguishes itself by avoiding the trappings of a simplifying obsession meant to dumb down iconography.

this contemporary minimalist art style is not inherently bad—i personally find it relatively pleasant when used right— but its proliferation often acts as a visually unobtrusive background for corporate spaces. this is like the muzak of visual arts.

for those who don't know, is what we often call elevator music—fabricated to create a facade of a calm work environment for low-income workers, masking the exploitation they endure.

pocoyo utilizes minimalism with another purpose. it invites viewers to immerse themselves in the simplicity of its visuals, employing limited objects that encourage the mind to actively participate by "filling in the blanks."

the cartoon unfolds on an all-white canvas with only certain characters and key items strategically placed, creating ample negative space.

the intentional use of negative space allows the viewer to focus on the characters and the story without unnecessary distractions. the storytelling approach in pocoyo resonates with performative theatre, where negative space is abundant, engaging the audience by encouraging them to fill it with their interpretations; it keeps the viewer at the edge of their seat trying to fill that negative space, if not with items, with an ambientation and abstract elements.

in an era saturated with mindless maximalism and visual oversaturation in media targeted to children, pocoyo stands out by embracing responsible minimalism.

this approach contrasts sharply with the likes of youtube content-farms and cocomelon, a cartoon exemplifying this aggressive maximalism i'm talking about.

cocomelon's rapid scene cuts every 2 to 4 seconds contribute to overstimulation and potential addiction in young viewers.

they're putting our children on crack.

in contrast, pocoyo's deliberate pacing, occasionally featuring tracking shots and long takes, challenges and improves attention spans.

furthermore, pocoyo employs a narrating language akin to normal adult conversation, fostering a healthy communication style. this stands in stark contrast to cocomelon's patronizing approach and zombie ass nursery rhymes, which oversimplifies language and undermines the development of critical thinking and abstract appreciation in young minds.

so, in conclusion, pocoyo's nuanced approach to minimalism and storytelling not only sets it apart in the world of animated content nowadays, but also challenges the prevailing trends that prioritize overstimulation over depth. it stands as a testament to the potential of thoughtful, intentional design in captivating and educating audiences of all ages.

i love it so much.

[bawawawawaguitarsolofuckyeah]

Look I really want Adam to still be present in season 2 because like- his history with Lucifer, Lilith, and Eve (Roo) is something we HAVE to explore.

Lucifer literally bagged BOTH of Adam's wives. One created equally to him (whom i bet he did love, because she was all he had), and another who was specifically made FOR him (whom i really believe he loved with all his heart) to reproduce and fill the earth.

If Hazbin Hotel is gonna follow the Bible story, Adam and Eve had to leave the garden and fought to survive. Working and fending for themselves against a world now cursed with sin and suffering. All they had were each other (bro did adam know eve and lucifer fucked?), and when they had their sons, one killed the other and the one who lived was banished by God.

They multiplied and multiplied and Adam + Eve had to witness the cruelty and madness their own bloodline inflicted against one another. The pain, the bloodshed, the apathy, all of it.

Of course, there were moments of wonder, discovery, and love. Times that Adam would hold dearly in his heart. I know he loves unconditionally, because he was made to do so. He's a family man, a husband, a father. He's the original dick. And i think all those magical moments were what made watching humanity fall deeper and deeper hurt even more.

If lucifer is ashamed and heartbroken from what humans did with free will, i do think adam also is ashamed and heartbroken. Because (technically) they are all his children. And he led the fucking exterminations. Did he choose to? Or was this a punishment? Both? (Do you think he had to kill cain?-)

But lucifer's situation is much more sadder because he never got to witness the good and the beauty of what came out from free will. His will to dream crushed, just as his heart was when he was banished from the very place he called home. His punishment for dreaming was to be the king of the very people who abused the free will he gave to them.

At least adam got to see the amazing discoveries humans found, the creations they invented, and the goodness that was left inside people. And got to stay in heaven.

Lilith- look we really dont have much info about her, even Eve. Lilith being made equal to Adam- does that mean she is as tough as him? As dominant as him? Something something third option? Was she a good mother? Good wife? Why the fuck is she in heaven?

Eve- do you think she's eaten by guilt, feeling at fault for how far humanity fell? Because of her foolish decision? Or did she embrace it? Owned the evilness she let into earth?

Adam, Lucifer, Lilith, and Eve. I NEED to know more. Adam is already such an interesting complicated douchebag lovable crass character that you love and hate at the same time. Lucifer, a sad tragic loving complex depressed goofy father that loves his daughter (and wife?) More than anything. Im excited to see what kind of characters Lilith and Eve will be.

[fuzzydetectivetaco]

AI is highlighting the fundamental problems in our society

(There's a tl;dr at the bottom for those who don't want to go through the entire thing)

Have you heard of the subreddit r/orphancrushingmachine? The idea with this subreddit is that you post news or stories that are heartwarming or positive but make you go, "hey, why was this a problem again?" The example they give on the subreddit is news that the Orphan Crushing Machine was shut down. This is amazing and heartwarming news. No more orphans would be crushed. Until you realize, "hey, wait, why was there an orphan crushing machine in the first place?" I think AI actually highlights a similar issue in the modern society.

Let's take a look at what the biggest use of AI is. Possibly the most famous use of AI is to make content. Blog posts, for example. Novels. Poems. A video script. An article where every single word should begin with a B. Someone even used AI for legal documents (which is a horrible idea, by the way - not in the least because AI tends to hallucinate).

I used it for the first time because it was fun and whacky. Hey, it wrote me a song that just has words start with the letter B. That's cool. Someone asked it to write down three countries beginning with O (Oman, Oman and Oman). I once asked it to explain how structs work in rust (I'm a programmer, don't worry about it). These are use cases where you didn't need AI - there are much better places to check three countries beginning with O (spoiler: there's only one), or how structs in rust work. ChatGPT's writing content is always fun to work with. The reason i asked it to write a poem with B's is because I wanted to see how it would turn out (it was horrible, by the way). Could I have done it? Yeah. But it wouldn't have been fun to research words beginning with B and I'm not that much of a songwriter anyway.

But the time it caused my eyebrows to raise was when it was used for articles. Blog posts. Novels. And the fundamental question when you learn about this is - why? Why would you need AI to write stuff? Why use AI to write novels?

When you answer these question, you suddenly start to see that AI is not the solution to problems that were supposed to exist. It is, for all intents and purposes, creating a machine that can create new Orphans to make sure that the Orphan Crushing Machine doesn't make Orphans extinct (Ok, actually, I'm liking this example less and less).

But let's actually think about it. The first use of AI - blog posts and articles. And it's inverse - summaries. These two are linked in an inexplicable way. Someone has some points they want to present to other people. They give this point to ChatGPT and tell it to make a blog post. That post then goes online.

Someone else sees this blog post. They copy the entire post, and give it to ChatGPT and tell it to summarize the blog post and present it in bullet points.

Isn't that extremely stupid? It's just wasting computer cycles, electricity, and money. It's taking useful points, and then converting them into another format for distribution. Then someone takes this new format, and converts in back to the format it was written in. Why does the intermediary format even exist?

It exists because if the author were to simply present them points, they wouldn't like it. The author was being lazy. It's not professional. Presenting points in the useable format is stupid, you have to encase them in bits and bits of fluff and words to make it seem important and professional.

Isn't that stupid?

You may call me hypocritical for writing this blog post, but there's a fundamental difference here. I'm enjoying writing this blog post. Inspiration hit me while I was in the shower, so I picked up this laptop when I was done and started writing. I've already presented my important points in the tl;dr section above. The only people reading this are those that want to enjoy the blog post. No one is going to copy this and give it to ChatGPT to summarize, because I've already summarized it better above.

That is lost on an AI-generated blog, because an AI-generated blog isn't usually fun to read. It's written in a monotonous tone, whereas this one is fun and vibrant (right?), because it's written by a human.

So that's the first problem in our society: We give so much importance to fluff, to inconsequential things, to appearances. Our society is one where we do indeed judge a book by it's cover.

Let's look at the second use I highlighted above: writing novels. There are novels written with AI in form of experimentation and being funny (check out Harry Potter and What Looked Like a Large Pile of Ash, which was written by an early implementation of AI). That's not what I'm concerned with.

What I'm concerned with is the idea of writing actual, serious novels with AI. The trend of AI-written novels (and for anyone concerned for their jobs - they're terrible. And I will also address this below, so stay tuned). The trend of writing stories with the help of AI.

I'm a fan of TTRPGs (You uncultured folks may know it as D&D). For the purpose of this blog post, all you have to understand is that one person is called the GM, or Game Master, and is responsible for playing as the environment, world, NPCs, etc. If you've ever played Video Games, you can kind of think of GMs as the Video Game itself.

Long story short, there are products online through which you can play with AI GMs. Someone even posted on a forum frequented by TTRPG players and GMs, asking if anyone wanted to play with AI GMs (Unsurprisingly, no one responded).

Here's the question - why would anyone want to play with an AI GM? First off, we live in the age of the internet. It is not difficult to find a GM or Player who wants to play TTRPGs, regardless of what timezone you are in. And in the event that you don't find a GM, you can play TTRPGs without a GM. And if you're alone, you can also play solo TTRPGs.

Actually, I cannot answer that question. I genuinely believe that these AI GMs are a gimmick that died the moment they launched (which also brings us to a point I will address later). But the situation is similar to when me and my friend were talking about something, and my friend said, "let's ask ChatGPT".

Let's. Ask. ChatGPT. These are words that are so very concerning. Because you wouldn't rely on your in-built, God-given creativity, but rather rely on a machine that cannot imagine and is just vomiting words to give you ideas.

You'd rather write a Novel via ChatGPT rather than write one yourself (there's another side to this that I will discuss later). You'd rather write a fanfiction using ChatGPT over writing one yourself.

I'll let you in to a secret. A secret so dark I cannot bear thinking about it. A secret that you might not have realized.

We aren't really creative anymore.

I'm not joking. And this is not from someone who's a common pleb. I write fanfictions. I planned out an entire novel (which I hated immediately and threw away). I'm writing this very blog post.

But it's difficult for me to be creative.

Because creativity is like a muscle. I haven't used that muscle in a long time. Hopefully, I will come to a point where I get struck by inspiration all the time. Hopefully one day I'll come to a point where stories flow out of me all the time (which isn't to say they don't - this blog post is just flowing out - but it doesn't happen all the time. I'm better than I was before, though).

Using my creativity right now feels like a chore. I have to manually sit myself down to write something. I do really want to write the story. I do feel better afterawrds. But the moment I sit down in front of my computer, the moment I have to actually flex my brain and stretch my creativity muscles and get something substantial. It's hard. It feels like work.

It's like excersize. And we hate excersizes.

Another reason why we're not creative anymore, at least according to Sir Ken Robinson, is because creativity requires making mistakes. Mistakes aren't an if. They're a when. You will write that novel plan that you'll throw out because of how bad it is. You will write that story that you look at the next day and cringe. You will write only a 100 words when you were supposed to write 1000.

Yet we have grown as a society to hate mistakes. That one misstep in that gathering and now suddenly your entire family is talking about you. That one question you missed that stopped you getting a 100%. That one paper you didn't study for that made you lose your scholarship.

This doesn't only apply to novels and stories. Mistakes are a part of life. I'm learning french, and I know that I will embarrass myself in front of a french person. One of my teachers told me that every moderately successful businessman has had at least three failed startups.

Bre Pettis once wrote the Cult of Done manifesto. The Cult of Done was, to the best of my understanding, something that didn't actually exist before he wrote the Manifesto.

I love this Manifesto so much that I'm just going to quote it verbatim.

The Cult of Done Manifesto

There are three states of being. Not knowing, action and completion.

Accept that everything is a draft. It helps to get it done.

There is no editing stage.

Pretending you know what you’re doing is almost the same as knowing what you are doing, so just accept that you know what you’re doing even if you don’t and do it.

Banish procrastination. If you wait more than a week to get an idea done, abandon it.

The point of being done is not to finish but to get other things done.

Once you’re done you can throw it away.

Laugh at perfection. It’s boring and keeps you from being done.

People without dirty hands are wrong. Doing something makes you right.

Failure counts as done. So do mistakes.

Destruction is a variant of done.

If you have an idea and publish it on the internet, that counts as a ghost of done.

Done is the engine of more.

That's it. It's simple and beautiful. And I think it's a great code to live by. I thought of this blog post while I was in the shower. The moment I came out, I propped out the laptop. I'm writing this blog post now, and it will go live on Tumblr when I'm done. That's it. It's done now.

Oh, you thought this was a blog post about AI? Oh, no, it's so much more.

But before we move on to my next fundamental problem, there's one more thing I want to address: Inspiration.

Let me tell you a story about my life.

When I grew up, we had a strict no-devices policy at home. Then I grew older, and I got to use computers. But still, there was a no-phones policy. There was nothing to do at home, and life was so boring.

Then when I finally got my phone, I was immediately hooked onto social media. It formed an escape from boredom for me. I could spend my time, if not enjoying myself, at least not bored.

Then I realized something when I went to a family gathering.

You see, our city has mobile snatchers everywhere. So, whenever I go out, I take a cellphone with me instead of my mobile phone unless I need it.

So I just sat and stared, bored. And suddenly, my mind came alive.

Reminders of things I was supposed to do. Inspiration for stories. Business ideas. Problems with our society. I thought again about what I wanted to do with life. I thought religion and philosophy.

This wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Before I got my phone, this was my everyday. Sometimes I'd just want a break from my thoughts. Then when I gt my mobile, suddenly those thoughts went away. I found myself having a hard time getting inspiration. I wasn't as motivated as I used to be.

So, sorry for the tangent, but I just wanted to state this point: Be bored more. It's sometimes painful, but it helps you think thoughts. Also, if you meditate, it gets less painful.

That is not to say that boredom is best for you. It's important to keep yourself busy. But you cannot go to the extreme and abandon boredom altogether. It's a balance.

So, to recap, the second fundamental problem with society: We're not creative anymore. And, if you didn't guess already, I want you, the reader, to break that. I want you to be creative. Make mistakes. Write stories. Write songs. Draw. Do what you enjoy. Follow the Cult of Done.

So, actually, let's go back to the old example. Remember when I told you there were multiple parts to AI Novels? Let's address that now.

Most people who write AI Novels don't write AI Novels because they don't feel creative enough to write a Novel. They write AI Novels because they're cheap to create and instantaneous. They have no interest in actually writing a Novel, they just want to make money.

Knowing that just makes me even less motivated to read an AI Novel.

This is a subject I'm very passionate about, so there is another tangent incoming. You have been forewarned.

I had a friend who really wanted to write an AI Novel. At that point in time, I was extremely against it a) because I wanted to be a writer and AI Novels meant that my future job would go away and b) because it's fundamentally a scam. We didn't actually write an AI Novel in the end.

This same friend loves writing poetry. He would never write an AI poem because he genuinely enjoys writing poetry. It's his hobby.

(This section of the blog's actually difficult to write because I'm trying to address two points in one go.)

I used to love crochet. I enjoyed the mindlessness of it, the beautiful patterns that it created. I loved dedicating my time to making something and then giving it to my family members. Then one of my family members told me I'd make some money if I started selling some of my creations.

I decided, yeah, that was a good idea. I bought some high quality yarn, and decided to make a handkerchief to sell. We'd decide the price later.

About a few days in, I realized that this crochet project consumed me. My entire day was spent on this one thing. And even after all that, it took me multiple days to finish it.

During it's creation, I started to count how many rows I added per day. 10. Just ten? There were machines that could make a hundred handkerchiefs in the time it took me to make a single row. There were affordable knitting machines. I was so inefficient! Humans overall are super inefficient! How would I ever sell this? I spent so much effort on this, so of course it had to be more expensive than the machine-made ones. But then no one would buy mine, would they?

This hobby of mine started to cause me stress. I used to dread starting and finishing crochet. I would feel like I was inadequate. I became a bit depressed for a while.

We never sold a single work of crochet after all. I stopped crocheting. This hobby was killed by capitalism. (tbh I'm not really sure what capitalism actually means in this context but it's fun to say.)

Money is going to kill every single hobby ever. Why make art if AI can do art so much faster and quicker than you can? Why write if AI can write faster? Why make music if AI can make music faster and better? Why learn a foreign language if AI can translate so much better?

Because it's fun.

Sometimes we decide to turn our hobby into a side hustle. But the moment money becomes involved, the hobby starts to turn a bit sour. The moment money because the driving factor, that hobby will turn into stress. You will start hating it. You will realize you're inefficient.

One of my teachers once told me, "Everything is measured by how profitable it is." That truly is what society seems to think. But that way of thinking makes one miserable. If I were following that way of thinking, I would never be an Open Source developer just because I enjoy programming. I would never decide to start learning french only because I found it fun. I'd never had read on how legal documents work because I found it intriguing.

So, with all due respect, fuck what society thinks. This blog post started as just something I wanted to put out into the world, but it's become a self-help blog post now.

Do you want to learn French just because? Do you want to make music just because? Learn animation just because? Then just do it. Doesn't matter whether it is profitable or not. If today I decide that I'm not interested in French anymore, I'm not learning French anymore. It's as simple as that. I enjoyed my time learning.

The best reason to do anything is just because you want to do it.

Me and one of my friends are going to do a podcast. We're going to take all the money we get from the podcast to pay the fee it costs to run the podcast. Everything else is going to go to charity, at least in the first year. I want to make sure we're doing the podcast just because, because it's fun. It's going to make sure we enjoy it more, and our listeners enjoy it more.

And I also want to highlight another problem with society that spawns from this. SO MANY people do things because they're profitable. Someone who's a doctor because it makes money, even though they'd rather be a filmmaker. And this goes deeper than that. Companies who try to capitalize on human creativity and make it profitable. Disney's recent movies are all trying to make the most in the least amount of time. They've made money the driving factor for their movies.

And most of them suck.

The problem with society is we often make money the driving factor. We want to make money by creating a book that can be made instantly and with minimal effort. We want to make money by creating movies as fast as possible and sacrificing the story itself. We want to make money by writing blog posts rather than because we actually have a passion for it.

Only one of these examples had AI involved.

Any time capitalism decides to put money in front of creativity, the end result will be sub-optimal, if it doesn't outright suck. And AI is no exception.

So there are two fundamental problems with society I highlighted here:

Society tends to decide how important something is from how profitable it is, which makes everything miserable.

Society tends to put profitability and money in front of passion and creativity, which causes the overall result to be sub-optimal.

Just a side note I wanted to add here was that the modern concept of production lines and manufacturing also puts money in front of creative expression, so not only are products so boring, but the people working there usually hate it too. When reading RIck Riordan's Magnus Chase series I realized how much we want individualistic expression and creativity in every single thing we use. Which is possibly a reason why people love merchandise from content creators so much.

After saying all that, I do want to say that I do not think AI is evil. Despite what others say, it is a tool. I love machines, because they allow us to delegate manual labor to them so that we humans can do what we're truly best at: creative expression. AI is the same. Using Google Lens to transcribe something, using speech-to-text, these things all allow us to ignore the manual process of having to retype something, and allow us to do other, more useful things. Having said that, if you enjoy transcribing, or copying, like I used to enjoy crocheting, then more power to you! Do it!

This is not meant to be a depressing post. This is not a post meant to make you depressed about how horrible society is. This is a warning sign, yes, but even more, it is a message to you, the reader, on how you can break out of these toxic behaviours.

To recap, this is what you should do:

Avoid boilerplate. Get to the point. There's no need to write an entire blog post if you don't want to. Also, if you do write a blog post, try to offer a summarized version as well for those who don't want to read the entire thing.

Be creative. It feels hard, but it's super rewarding. It's what makes you human. It gets easier the more you do it.

Don't be afraid of making mistakes. They are a part of life, and not only does fearing them stop you from doing things you want to do, you can never not make mistakes in the first place, so why bother being scared of them?

Follow the cult of done. (Optional)

Be bored sometimes. It's good for you.

Don't ever judge the worth of anything by how much money it makes. Do stuff you want to do just because, even if it costs you money (if you can, I'm not asking you to pour your life savings into it)

Don't do anything just because it's profitable.

Be individualistic and expressive! It's your birthright!

Don't just read it here. If you liked these points, take them and write them on a piece of paper, and stick it somewhere you'll see it often. It'll actually help you improve (according to Dr. Chantal Hofstee). And if you ever find yourself unable to do these, remember rule 3.

tl;dr the fundamental problems of society are:

We love to use too much boilerplate and focus less on the meaning. We as a society also tend to judge a book by its cover.

We as a society have gotten less creative.

We as a society have decided to measure everything by profitability.

We as a society tend to do things just because they're profitable, even if we don't actually want to do it.

Steps to take to help yourself avoid these problems are detailed above.

[lavendervalleyexpress]

Disney: you can make your movie R-rated but their relationship can’t be explicitly gay

Ryan: oh don’t worry this is a totally platonic road trip buddy comedy

The movie: The poster says, “best friends come together”, there’s a meet cute ugly at a bar and Logan immediately assumes Wade is there to hook up with him (so does the bartender), Wade calls him honey badger, and angel baby, their road trip song is a rock ballad about being lonely and wanting to meet someone, the second act has the classic romcom miscommunication/fight, they’re having a heated fight to one of the most iconic love song duets ever, Wade says, “the Honda Odyssey fucks hard too bad you don’t” and Logan says, “oh we’re just getting started”, after that there’s a shot where car they're in is rocking back and forth for hours and then it cuts to them asleep the next morning, there’s a line about Wade having Logan’s dick in his mouth (spoken by Ryan’s daughter), there’s a scene where they’re looking at each other longingly through a window because they think Wade is about to die (even though Logan hated him yesterday), Wade is very clearly staring at Logan’s abs after his shirt explodes then makes him put on a shirt after he sees other people also looking, they save each others lives by holding hands to a Madonna song about blowjobs, Logan starts walking away until Wade calls after him and he stops like he’s about to turn around and run back and kiss him but the camera cuts off before he does, Wade introduces Logan to Al like a nervous teenager introducing his girlfriend to his mom, and the last shot is their masks sitting next to each other in their ONE BEDROOM APARTMENT

Disney: ok we have notes

Ryan: no.

The movie: *makes $1,000,000,000*

[bamsara]

I think that one thing people fail to understand is that unsolicited literary criticism coming from an online stranger who is reading with no knowledge of what the authors intended goal is, is not going to be received the same as say: the authors beta reader or friends who know what the authors intended goal and has the sufficient knowledge and input to help the author reach that desired outcome.

"But I'm only trying to be helpful" How do I know you have the knowledge and literary skill for you to be able to actaully do that when we don't know each other and you are essentially a stranger to me? Are you applying this criticism based out of personal biased experience and desire to see the story or characterization be driven in another direction or tweaked, or do you know the author's intentions for the character? If the story is incomplete, are you basing your criticism of a character on the incomplete narration with only partial information available of them or are you building up a report until the story's completion? Did the author provide you with the information needed to make a fully informed criticism?

Have you discussed with the author what their plans are or are you assuming them based off the narration, especially if the narration is proven or implied to be unreliable or missing key points of the plot? Are you unbiased enough to help them reach their desired outcome for the characters and story regardless of your personal feelings towards the characters/antagonists and setting? Can you handle being told your specific input isn't wanted because you're a reader and/or have no written anything relating to their genre or topic? Do you understand and respect that the author's personal experiences might influence their writing and make it different than how you would have done it personally? Do you understand if an author only wants input from a specific demographic relating to their story?

If it's for fanfiction or other hobby media, are you holding a free hobby to a professional standard? Are you trying to give criticism because you feel like the author has produced 'subpar job performance' of their fic? Are you viewing their work as a personal intimate outlet or something that must conform with mass media? Are you applying rules and guidelines when the fic is shared for simple sharing sake? Is your criticism worded appropriately and focused on the parts where the author has requested input on rather than a general dismissal and or disapproval?

Have you put yourself in a place where you assumed you have the input needed for the story to evolve better, or have you asked what the author needs and what they're having trouble with? Can you handle having your criticism rejected if the author decides their story doesn't need the change and not take it as a personal offense against your character? Are you crossing that boundary because you think you are doing the author a favor? Are you trying to be helpful, or do you just want to be?

I think sometimes when people hear authors go 'please don't give me unsolicited writing advice or criticism' they automatically chalk it up to 'this author doesn't want ANY constructive feedback on their stuff at all' and not "i already have trusted individuals who will help me with my writing goals and- hey i don't know you like that, please stop acting so overly familiar with me'

[why-the-heck-not]

understanding academic concepts got me blushing swinging my legs giggling

[ao3-crack]

(x)

[neptunezo]

The idea of the batkids scaring Bruce with “a new grandchild” to only show an animal is so funny to me, because imagine Bruce is so used to it that when Jason wants to introduce him to his new grandchild Bruce almost falls out of his chair when there’s an ACTUAL KID!

Dick: You’re a granddaddy now Brucie!!!

Bruce: WHAT?!? Who?? When??? How??? Actually don’t tell me how. Who is she??? When did she give birth???

Dick: What? No, meet my kid *holds up a cat* her name is biscuit and shes the love of my life!

—

Steph: Cass and I are adopting…

Bruce: Holy shit, actually???

Cass: Yes, it was a tough choice, but we want to adopt

Bruce: Do you need any help with paperwork and stuff? It’s kinda my thing. Also consider the fact that you might be too young.

Steph: Too young…?

Bruce: Yes, I mean you’re only in your 20’s, are you sure you can handle a kid?

Cass: Too young for an iguana?

—

Damian: It happened again, I have a kid.

Bruce: What do you mean AGAIN?!?

Damian: This is my second kid, duh

Bruce: Are you talking about goats?

Damian: Of course I am father

—

Tim: BRUCE YOU’RE GOING TO BE A GRANDFATHER!!!

Bruce: Tim I didn’t think I was going to have to tell you this again after the whole thing with Stephanie, but just kissing someone doesn’t get them pregnant

Tim:

Bruce: Is it a dog?

Tim: No it’s a tiger

—

Jason: I have something to tell you

Bruce(not looking up from his paperwork): Okay, what’s up?

Jason: I have a kid, I want you to meet your granddaughter

Bruce: I can’t possibly imagine what type of animal you’ve gotten, but I’d love to meet her

Jason: What the hell are you talking about?

Bruce (looking up to see an actual child): You actually have a kid????

Jason: Yeah, Roy and I thought it was time I adopted Lian

Lian: Hi Grandpa!!!

Bruce: I’m going to faint, grab me some ice will you?

[saltpepperbeard]

Edward Teach in the OFMD Season 2 Trailer [x]

[rin-may-1103]

Just a Bite.

Master Post | Next

Danny stared out at the busy street from behind his dumpster.

or well, not his dumpster, but it might as well be his considering how many nights he's spent sitting behind it like some rabid raccoon.

Two months ago, he would have been sleeping in his own bed. His glow-in-the-dark stars vaguely lighting up his room in soft luminescent colors. The sound of Jazz snoring in her sleep just a room over, his parents still milling around in the basement.

he would have just finished fighting the box ghost and collapsed onto his bed, the sound of his home lulling him to sleep.

Oh, how things can change in a blink of an eye.

No, instead of sleeping on his bed with his cartoon ghost sheets and NASA poster covered room, he's out here in some random dirty city, sleeping behind dumpsters.

dirty, grimy, rusty dumpsters.

"did you hear?" some lady dressed in a light blue summer dress asked, turning to look at her friend as they started to walk past. "Mr. Wayne donated another lump sum to that charity." she huffed, shaking her head like she had just said the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

her friend stopped in the middle of the alley opening, her graying hair splaying in an ark as she twisted to face the other women. "my word! again? what the hell is that man thinking?"

the woman huffed, then smirked in amusement. "it's like he's shouting for the world to hear how desperate he is for attention. he thinks if he donates enough money to those scoudrails they'll love him or something. With how he's acting lately, it's like he wants all the street rats to barge into his home asking for money, food, and clothes."

her friend clicked her tongue in disgust, "I'd believe it. he has so many kids now, it's like he's running an orphanage. someone, anyone really, with black hair and some tragic story could walk right in and not even be noticed. they'd blend right in with the others."

"I heard it's genetic, his father was the same way before he met Martha. Bruce's blood son, Damian I believe, acts just like his father. the boy's been spotted taking stray cats and dogs inside. It wouldn't surprise me if the paper posted about him convincing his father for another sibling at some point."

the women then turned and started to walk away, their conversation slowly bleeding into the surrounding city ruckus.

Danny leaned back, resting his head against the crumbling brick behind him.

walk right in and not be noticed? wouldn't that be grand. He had heard of Mr. wayne and his gaggle of black-haired children. What were their names again? he could have sworn Sam told him before, in one of her rants about rich society.

Richard Grayson was the first, Danny remembered because Tucker had been making none stop dick jokes for a few hours. Danny didn't understand why the man would willingly go by Dick, but then again, who was he to question someone's name when he fights ghosts like Skulker and Technis on a daily basis?

Next was... Jason? Sam had mentioned there was a whole conspiracy theory of how his death was a cover-up. how all the unsolved crime community swore it was Bruce who killed the kid, that or the kid had some terminal illness that Bruce didn't want the media to know about.

thennnnnn-

Danny glanced around, trying to dig through his memories of Sam's rant. Dick: the orphaned circus act taken in the night his parents died. he's romanie? maybe, Danny wasn't too sure on that one. Jason: taken off the streets, one of his parents was out of the picture and the other one died of a drug overdose.

and then there was..... Tim! Right, Tim, the one who was Mr. Wayne's neighbor before his mother died and his dad went into a coma, then died later on. right, right. he was the known tech genius, the one who took over the company while Mr. Wayne stepped back for a while.

there were others? like, four others? Damian, the lady said he was the blood son sooo, that would imply he was the only bio kid.

who else was there? hmmmm.

well, either way, Danny's tired brain agreed with the women. someone, anyone, who looked vaguely like the other kids could walk right into the house and no one would notice.

it was a bad idea. a terrible one really. but. Danny was hungry.

he's been sleeping behind dumpsters for a few weeks now, he hadn't had anything good to eat in forever, and he was tired. (not as exhausted as he was back home, but still tired. who would have guessed he'd sleep more while homeless?)

he wasn't going to steal from people, his core wouldn't allow him to. and well, he's pretty sure Dan would have stolen already, so there was no way Danny was going to. not unless his life was at risk, and well? it wasn't right now, so no stealing.

but this? walking right into a house and blatantly taking food? right in front of them?

it wouldn't be stealing if he just flat-out didn't try to hide it. they'd be able to stop him and send him away. heck, he doubted he'd even make it past the front gate before they turned him away.

...

was he really going to do this?

...

yes, yes he was.

standing up, Danny started making his way out of the alleyway and over to the tall building with Wayne's name on it. It was a good place to start, maybe he could even find one of the kids and walk with them. or, even better, he could find Mr. Wayne and walk with him. he liked that better than following some kid around.

suddenly, a car honked right next to him, the window rolling down to reveal a tired and disheveled man behind the wheel. glancing up, Danny made eye contact with the taxi driver.

the man yawned and gestured for him to get in, already speaking before Danny could decline. "Mr. Wayne! Your father," yawn, "Father already paid for me to take you home. just hop in."

Danny blinked then glanced around, looking to see if the Wayne the man was talking about was around. nope. turning back, Danny spotted a green sticky note on the back seat.

well, alright then. guess he was getting into the taxi and doing this after all. Clockwork obviously approved if he messed with the timing of things.

Next

[basslinegrave]

pin-up

b&w originals

[corpsentry]

pick your battles

[lichanicksstuff]

Professor Gadling always knows which student wrote their paper and which one used chat GPT. Nobody knows how he does it. No paraphrasing program can dupe him. He can always tell. Every one of his colleagues is amazed by this skill, they always ask for his help judging if the essay was written by an AI or a person. And he does that with a wide smile on his face.

It's really easy. All it takes is to give his old friend a good cup of tea and a red pen to mark the ones that were not written by a human hand. "The imitations don't have souls," his friend says. And this is what he tells his students. They never understand and Hob finds it very funny.

[writeouswriter]

My followers: And is this “writing” you’ve been “working on” in the room with us right now?

[silly-little-musings]

And we remind ourselves

that we are okay.

We will be okay.

We are more than we think we think we are.

The whole world does not hate us.

It cannot.

The people who we love

who we know never want hurt us

do love us back.

We are not monsters.

We are scared, wounded children.

We grew up hurting

and know only to expect it.

We know there is more than pain.

We know there is joy.

We know there is love,

real and true.

We know our fears are not unfounded.

We know our fears

are not the only reality.

We know we must reconcile that,

and we are trying.

We must let ourselves love

and care

and hope.

And as long as we are trying

we are enough.

And we must remember

no matter how must we feel it

no matter how much it stifles us

we are not alone.

Seek them out,

the people who know what you want them to know,

and we will sure find them

eventually. Soon enough.

After all,

we are We.