#what is artificial intelligence in simple words

[ssnews]

مصنوعی ذہانت کیا ہے اور یہ کیسے کام کرتی ہے اور آگے کیا ہونے والا ہے۔ انکشاف کیا ہے۔

ایک حالیہ اعلان میں، گو��ل نے اپنے سرچ انجن میں جدید مصنوعی ذہانت (AI) فنکشنز کو شامل کرنے کے منصوبوں کا انکشاف کیا ہے، جس سے صارفین زیادہ باخبر فیصلے کرنے اور متعلقہ معلومات کو تیزی سے تلاش کر سکیں گے۔AI سے چلنے والے نئے فیچرز آنے والے مہینوں میں شروع ہونے کی توقع ہے، اور یہ صارفین کو قدرتی زبان کا استعمال کرتے ہوئے پیچیدہ سوالات کو تلاش کرنے کے قابل بنائے گی، جیسے کہ “میرے نزدیک بہترین ریستوراں…

[computer-onrent]

[phantomrose96]

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

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

What is AI? And what is not AI?

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

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

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

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

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

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

"AI" which is just genuinely not AI

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[probablyasocialecologist]

This is it. Generative AI, as a commercial tech phenomenon, has reached its apex. The hype is evaporating. The tech is too unreliable, too often. The vibes are terrible. The air is escaping from the bubble. To me, the question is more about whether the air will rush out all at once, sending the tech sector careening downward like a balloon that someone blew up, failed to tie off properly, and let go—or more slowly, shrinking down to size in gradual sputters, while emitting embarrassing fart sounds, like a balloon being deliberately pinched around the opening by a smirking teenager. But come on. The jig is up. The technology that was at this time last year being somberly touted as so powerful that it posed an existential threat to humanity is now worrying investors because it is apparently incapable of generating passable marketing emails reliably enough. We’ve had at least a year of companies shelling out for business-grade generative AI, and the results—painted as shinily as possible from a banking and investment sector that would love nothing more than a new technology that can automate office work and creative labor—are one big “meh.” As a Bloomberg story put it last week, “Big Tech Fails to Convince Wall Street That AI Is Paying Off.” From the piece: Amazon.com Inc., Microsoft Corp. and Alphabet Inc. had one job heading into this earnings season: show that the billions of dollars they’ve each sunk into the infrastructure propelling the artificial intelligence boom is translating into real sales. In the eyes of Wall Street, they disappointed. Shares in Google owner Alphabet have fallen 7.4% since it reported last week. Microsoft’s stock price has declined in the three days since the company’s own results. Shares of Amazon — the latest to drop its earnings on Thursday — plunged by the most since October 2022 on Friday. Silicon Valley hailed 2024 as the year that companies would begin to deploy generative AI, the type of technology that can create text, images and videos from simple prompts. This mass adoption is meant to finally bring about meaningful profits from the likes of Google’s Gemini and Microsoft’s Copilot. The fact that those returns have yet to meaningfully materialize is stoking broader concerns about how worthwhile AI will really prove to be. Meanwhile, Nvidia, the AI chipmaker that soared to an absurd $3 trillion valuation, is losing that value with every passing day—26% over the last month or so, and some analysts believe that’s just the beginning. These declines are the result of less-than-stellar early results from corporations who’ve embraced enterprise-tier generative AI, the distinct lack of killer commercial products 18 months into the AI boom, and scathing financial analyses from Goldman Sachs, Sequoia Capital, and Elliot Management, each of whom concluded that there was “too much spend, too little benefit” from generative AI, in the words of Goldman, and that it was “overhyped” and a “bubble” per Elliot. As CNN put it in its report on growing fears of an AI bubble, Some investors had even anticipated that this would be the quarter that tech giants would start to signal that they were backing off their AI infrastructure investments since “AI is not delivering the returns that they were expecting,” D.A. Davidson analyst Gil Luria told CNN. The opposite happened — Google, Microsoft and Meta all signaled that they plan to spend even more as they lay the groundwork for what they hope is an AI future. This can, perhaps, explain some of the investor revolt. The tech giants have responded to mounting concerns by doubling, even tripling down, and planning on spending tens of billions of dollars on researching, developing, and deploying generative AI for the foreseeable future. All this as high profile clients are canceling their contracts. As surveys show that overwhelming majorities of workers say generative AI makes them less productive. As MIT economist and automation scholar Daron Acemoglu warns, “Don’t believe the AI hype.”

6 August 2024

[3hks]

5 Writing Tricks That I ABUSE

Okay, listen up fellow writers! Here is a simple list of a few things I found out when it comes to writing that I ABUSE. And yes, this is for both the new and experienced writers; some may already know these things, but some might not! So let's get into it!

Using a Thesaurus: Most people will probably already know/use this, but a thesaurus is like dictionary, in which instead of looking for definitions, it brings up synonyms (and sometimes antonyms) for your word! It's honestly a LIFESAVER because it's so MUCH easier to find a more sophisticated substitute when using one!

Control + F: If you spend quite some time on PDFs or whatnot, there is a good chance that you know this trick! Control + F allows you to type in a key word/phrase and the document will tell you 1) how many times the word/phrase appeared, and 2) allow you to immediately locate them! This is great when reading because you can quickly find quotes in the book just by typing in a word! However, this is also a GREAT tool when it comes to writing, because as writers, repetitive words are a no-no; but luckily, by using this keybind, you can speedily tell how many times you've used a certain word/phrase!

Control + Backspace: I just recently found this by myself, but I can assure you, it's now instinct for my fingers to jump to the 'control' button whenever I want to delete something! What does this keybind do? Well, instead of deleting one letter at a time, it deletes words at once! It's so much more convenient and accurate than holding down backspace, trust me!

AI Cover Generator: When publishing a work online, you often need a cover to go with your story. However, if you're just like me and cannot draw on your life and/or refuse to use online images because the internet just doesn't have what you need or because of copyright purposes, then AI art generators might be what you're looking for! There are quite some free ones online that you can use--some without even needing to sign up!

Of course, AI art is far inferior to actual, man-made art, but sometimes, what works, works. Despite that, please do not use AI art when trying to paper-publish your work; I only use this when I absolutely NEED a cover in order to upload a story. (Thank you @catfayssoux!)

Note: PLEASE let me know if using AI for this purpose is wrong. I'm not super up-to-date with the do's and don't's regarding artificial intelligence, and I don't want to be spreading out wrong information. This is something that I simply discovered and found useful.

Online Name Generators: Name generators are incredibly useful when you just can't think of a name for something! It doesn't even have to be for a person, but it can even be for a location! If you are writing a fantasy setting and want some unique names, these generators got you covered! And honestly, there are these types of sites for a ton of different purposes and though they aren't perfect, you're bound to eventually find something noteworthy!

As of right, now, these are all that I got! Feel free to share any tips that you might have to your fellow writers! (That would be greatly appreciated!)

Happy writing~

3hks ;]

[madschiavelique]

hii my love! would u mind doing a little blurb on miguel finding out the woman he has been seeing is a stripper? she just feels so embarrassed to admit that and scared It would drive him away but instead he’s pretty much more open about it and become far too protective too. thank you:))

OMG ANON YOU DON'T KNOW HOW OUR BRAINS CONNECTED because listen : i have an au in mind where my spiderpersona is a succub in a strip club, and basically when Miguel is brought there by his friends, they meet

SO YEA i'm living for stripper!reader x miguel (also this was supposed to be a blurb but i got carried away fdkzefrgd - the club scene from Closer really inspired me for this)... now i want to make a multiple chapter fic on stripper!reader x miguel hELP

summary : miguel discovers you're a stripper

content warnings : NSFW, stripper!reader, reader gives a little private show to miguel (just removes the top though, doesn't reveal the cunt), fem!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 2k song mentionned : world outside - the devlins

tag list : @fandom-ash

Up until now, you had decided to keep your professional occupation to Miguel, for one simple reason: fear.

Fear filled your stomach at the thought of telling him you were a stripper. You and Miguel had been dating for some time, and had quickly become close. The bond was shaping up to be strong, and you were worried that the information about your job would ruin everything.

He'd already asked you a few times what you were doing, but you'd always managed to deflect the subject elegantly. Yet there's no stopping Miguel's determination and curiosity, least of all when the topic of conversation turns out to be you.

So he did something he wasn't particularly proud of, but couldn't resist: while you were out working, he asked Lyla where you were.

She'd given him an address, and some information about it...

"A club?" he'd asked, looking at the street information for the address. "A strip club," Lyla had corrected. "There's no mistake? Are you sure?" he'd questioned, taking a closer look at the establishment's hours and information. "Have you ever seen me calculate a lot of errors?" sighed the artificial intelligence.

Never. Hardly ever had he seen her fail in this area. Maybe you weren't really a dancer there, maybe you were a bartender, or a waitress, who knows. Only, the idea of seeing you wearing a fine outfit and swaying on a stage was strangely appealing to him.

Without missing a beat, he made his way to the address. It wasn't far, which surprised him as much as it reassured him. The very idea that your place of work wasn't far from home appealed to him, as it ensured that if you ever needed to be picked up for any reason, he'd be there.

He arrived at the entrance, breathing in, passed the bouncers who joked that with his build he could get into the business, and entered.

Blue light from two corner spotlights illuminated red velvet-covered staircases leading downwards. He moved forward, the mirrored walls reflecting him. The room's bass could already be heard from outside, but now he could hear the music more clearly.

You light up my dreams, light up my skin. You're so far away, you're holding it in.

The place was quite crowded, and Miguel noticed a fair number of men in suits and ties. He wouldn't have cared in any other context about the consumption habits of these men here, but suddenly the very idea that there were potentially regulars coming to see you displeased him enormously.

As for the place, it smelled of violets and lemongrass. The ceiling was high, revealing a second floor from which hung three chandeliers surrounded by red cubes.

Spotlights were placed here and there, illuminating the important places: the round tables, like the one next to Miguel on which two women on their knees were swaying, undressing each other under the watchful eyes of all the men around the table; the U-shaped bar, from either end of which women were dancing in wisps of sinuous white smoke; and pole-dancing pedestals on their red-lit floor that emphasized the curves of the dancers placed on them.

And he recognized one of the dancers: it was you.

It was an evening like any other, your garter belt was already generously stuffed with bills of various colors against your thigh and you'd already put on a private show. You were on the pole bar, dancing and undulating your body against it under the round, adoring eyes of your little audience.

You'd been in the business for a while now, and you'd managed to make more friends than enemies in the club, enough so that your colleagues became your buddies.

In fact, your friend right next to you softly called your name, and you turned to her as you danced.

"Did you see the one that just came in? He's huge," she pointed out, smiling at the customers around you. "And pretty good looking too."

As you continued your endless choreography, you glanced surreptitiously at the said customer. But your heart dropped into your stomach for a moment as you met Miguel's gaze.

You hesitated between freezing on the spot and running away, but instead tried to keep your cool and your professionalism and continue your dance until he arrived near the pedestal.

"This one," you pointed out to your friend, "is for me."

She gave a little laugh as you motioned for another dancer to take your place and gracefully stepped off your pedestal, advancing towards Miguel as you would a normal customer

"So this was where you were hiding?" asked Miguel a little above the music, tilting his head to the side as he looked you up and down.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, as inquisitive as you were nervous.

"Curiosity got the better of me, and I was right to give in to temptation."

He was watching your outfit, which emphasized your body, your curves highlighted by the glitter and rhinestones mixed with the laces. You were close to him, almost to the point where a simple movement on Miguel's part would allow your two bodies to meet.

"But I'd prefer to discuss this somewhere else...?" he says.

"I'm in the middle of working hours, but... how about a private show?" you offered, drawing even closer to him as your eyes seemed to him irresistible through your lashes.

He shuddered.

"I'd like that."

You smiled softly, taking his hand to guide him towards one of the Paradise Suites. You guided him a little further until you came to a door you knew well and opened it to let him in.

A round sofa circled a round table at its center, the latter illuminated in pink. A strip of light circled the sofa, another path laid out to encourage strippers to be creative and use the room as they saw fit. You weren't expecting to give Miguel a private show tonight, but fate had played a nice trick on you.

You guided him to the sofa, letting him settle there as you climbed up on the table, looking at him with eyes that were usually calculated to convey desire, but this time really felt it.

And he looked at you with, his were dark, pools of ink attentive to your every move.

"How long have you been doing this?" he'd ask, his attention unwavering.

"Five months," you toyed lightly with one of your shoulder straps as you let your other hand roam your body.

He was going to be able to ask you all the questions that came to mind, only if he didn't get too distracted by your beauty.

"Are you allowed to flirt?" he asked.

"Yes, I am." you replied, letting your hand slide down your chest.

"Do you have any regulars?" he leaned forward, his head tilted back to watch you dance.

"Yes, I do. Private clients as well." you turned, your back to him to loosen your corset behind your waist, undulating your body.

The idea that you had regular clients here wasn't disturbing, but the fact that you had private ones displeased him a little more, for the fact that your security was much less framed than it was here.

"I want names."

You let out a small laugh as you turned to face him again.

"You want to make me lose my job?" you knelt on the round table to get to his level.

"No, I want to replace them." he said, his eyes moving from yours to your fingers removing the first strap.

"I'm not allowed to have relationships outside of the club with clients," you countered, tracing the skin of your bare thigh sensually.

"And what do you usually do?" his chest puffed out as he inhaled, feeling a little hotter little by little.

"I dance, I talk, I laugh, I strip, and that is all." you confirmed as you removed the second strap, and with a simple movement unhooked the little clip between your breasts to reveal them.

His eyes were eager, watching your perfect breasts as he parted his lips, mouth agape.

"No touching?" he questioned, eyes still on your body.

"No touching, you can just slide the tips in the garter belt" you advised, your hand sliding against the latter where a few bills were lodged.

"What would happen if I touched you now?" he asked, moving a little closer to the edge of the sofa.

"I would like it," you said, shifting your legs over the front to stand up again on the table gently, "but the security cameras would notice, and probably get you out of here."

Miguel looked up, just above the table, on the ceiling, was a small half globe with a small point of red light.

"Pays well?

"Very well." you smiled, your hands playing dangerously with the string of your thong.

"How much will it cost me to be here with you?"

Miguel wasn't afraid of going broke here, especially for you, he was plenty rich enough for that.

"Depends on what you want." thinking that maybe Miguel didn't want to make you work right now, you got off the table and climbed onto the sofa and then its edge instead, sitting there.

"How high are the prices? I haven't seen the menu of services."

"Our VIP options can go up to 1500 dollars." you say wearily, pretending to walk your index and middle fingers in his direction on the strip of light.

"1500?" he almost exclaimed, raising his eyebrows.

"Mhm," you hummed, "two hours with two dancers and a bottle of Don Perignon."

He turned towards you, coming closer, his head level with your thigh as his eyes inevitably fell on the bills you'd been given.

"And what's the price if I only want you and nothing else with me?" he questioned as his gaze returned to yours.

"Here, from 80 dollars I can give you a 10-minute air dance." you said as you leaned towards him, your faces close but not yet touching. "Outside, nothing."

A small, proud smile appeared on his lips. However, you being far too hot and gorgeous, he was beginning to feel tight in his clothes, especially his pants.

"What time do you get off?" he asked, sitting up differently, your eyes falling on his crotch and smiling as you bit your lip.

"Five o'clock. Will you last until then?"

He sighed, his eyes falling on your lips, eager.

"I just don't know if I'll be able to keep my hands to myself."

You smiled, then straightened up, reaching for your top. But Miguel took his wallet out of his pocket and slipped a bill under your garter belt. To be deprived of a view like this? Never. You smile a little more, and sit back down on the table, kneeling upright to let him get a good look at you.

He leaned towards you again, intertwining his fingers as his gaze softened slightly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, biting your cheek as you looked down at your hands carefully placed in your lap.

"I was scared," you admitted with a sigh. "Scared that this would end what we have."

You knew that not all men or simply partners were comfortable with their halves being strippers, and the idea that Miguel shared that opinion terrified you.

"Nena," he called your nickname.

Your head was still down, and you felt the soft sensation of money paper under your chin. Miguel straightened your jaw with a bill, bringing his eyes to yours.

"This isn't a problem to me." he smiled, lowering his hand to place the bill under the elastic of your belt. "This is actually really good."

Confusion seized you along with relief, causing you to frown while sporting a grin.

"Why?"

He tilted his head to one side, smiling proudly.

"I get the satisfaction for everyone to see how gorgeous you are, while being the only one who has the right to touch you."

You let out a small burst of voice somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, the relief of his answer washing over you like a wave of comfort.

After that, he'd deserved more than just a show.

[canmom]

music and narrative {[0]}

so. as part of the ongoing music researches, I've for a while wanted about the relation between music and narrative. that's going to be a long project! but to begin with I wanted to run down the examples I know, and maybe solicit a few more~

now, on some level, nearly any song has some degree of narrative. your basic love song introduces us to some characters - singer, object of their affection - and furnishes them with emotions and desires. moreover, music can play a role in a narrative without literally relating events - indeed, the art of soundtrack design is definitely a subject I want to look into at some point. even songs addressed directly at the real world, such as political songs, construct some kind of narrative.

however, for these purposes, I'm interested in songs that go a bit further in the direction of telling a fictional story, especially when those link together into whole albums (sometimes called a concept album, though this is a slightly broader concept). which can work in a lot of ways!

for example, Janelle Monae's The ArchAndroid tells a sweeping scifi story of an android fleeing an oppressive society and becoming an unintentional figurehead of revolution. it sketches out a wide-reaching set of influences in constructing a scifi world, but you'd be hard-pressed to boil it down into a simple series of events - it prefers to leave a lot to interpretation. by contrast something like Splendor & Misery by clipping. deals with kinda similar subject matter - a scifi story, an escaped slave, artificial intelligence - but with a different musical approach and perhaps a slightly clearer narrative arc; sometimes directly narrating the thoughts and actions of characters, or slipping into memory, but also drawing less direct musical parallels with e.g. gospel tracks and slave spirituals. both excellent albums - both solve the problems of conveying a story musically in different ways.

of course, the largest pool of examples here comes in the context of musical theatre, and further back opera. (the exact transition from one to the other is something I'm going to need to research). particularly interesting to me are sung-through musicals such as Les Misérables, in which there's no spoken sections in between the songs. this restriction means the songs (and staging etc.) have to do all the work of conveying the events of the story.

there's a lot to be said about the various traditions of musicals (for example). there's even more to be said about the history of opera - both the Western traditions and other musical traditions that have been given the label such as Chinese opera. but that will have to wait for later day in the project because otherwise this entire post would be a huge list of musicals, and I want to try and wander all over the shop.

what I'm most curious to find is music that tells a story all on its own - no actors or staging, but more similar to oral narration. of course, in the present era, music is often released along with videos, and these can tell quite elaborate stories that will become part of the overall 'message' communicated by the song, so the lines are a bit blurry! but since the aim of this series will be to look for ways to convey narrative using music, I'm looking for examples where the music does most of the heavy lifting.

music that tells stories is something with a looong tradition in folk music, pretty much the world over. in Europe, the ballad was a common form for it, a word that survives into the present. it seems that most cultures have had some kind of tradition of wandering itinerant musician-poets - for example, at various points in history, there were biwa hōshi in Japan (pictured) and griots in West Africa, medieval Europeans had minstrels, the Celts had bards, the Occitans had troubadors...

moreover, work and marching songs such as sea shanties would also have a certain degree of narrative to them, in addition to their main function of keeping a group moving in time.

in modern times, people will sometimes attempt to reconstruct how this kind of music and lyric poetry would have been performed. you can naturally only go so far with the archaeological evidence, but I'm fond of Peter Pringle's recordings of segments of the Epic of Gilgamesh, using period instruments if not necessarily a period musical style!

in the modern age of recorded music, these traditions have become much more niche, but there are still artists who use music as a vehicle to tell a fictional narrative. (fair warning: I'm a huge nerd, so most of the examples I know are like, supreme nerd shit. also about ten years ago I was given an assortment of metal from a friend which included a bunch of what I'm about to put below.)

to begin with I've naturally got to talk about my friend Maki Yamazaki (Dr Carmilla) and the band she founded but later left, The Mechanisms. They tell a story of a sprawling gothic scifi universe, with the band playing the role of travelling space pirates who observe the (invariably tragic) tales that unfold. The Mechanisms' music starts as folk song pastiche, but gradually gets more original, although narratively they keep the approach of crossing over mythology with genre storytelling (fairy tales as space opera, arthuriana as space western).

The Mechanisms got a significant measure of international fame washing back after their frontman Johnny Sims got really big on some podcast or something.

Maki's solo music as Dr Carmilla took things in (from a narrative sense) a more abstract direction, using elaborate production and an incredibly textured sound to tell a (so far!) fragmentary story of the tragic space vampire Dr Carmilla and her doomed relationship with another vampire Lorelei (for example). And I'm gonna have lots more to say about them all, in the future, but this is just an overview so let's not get ahead of ourselves!

In a related vein (though I'm much less familiar with them) comes indie band Decemberists, who often create narratively driven songs - for example, The Mariner's Revenge Song depicts a sailor's motivation for extracting bloody revenge on someone who wronged him, with the actual violence conveyed by an energetic instrumental break. A subject that reminds me of the Clockwork Quartet, now long gone, who managed to record just three of their songs from a larger project, yet stand out as way more interesting than most of the steampunk milieu - with for example The Clockmaker's Apprentice giving a very fun antihero-revenge narrative to the ticking beat of a clock, and The Doctor's Wife a compelling tragedy of desperate medical science.

There's definitely something in common with this type of storytelling and the subgenre termed rock opera, which has a pretty long history going back to the late 60s (SF Sorrow by Pretty Things and The Story of Simon Simopath by Nirvana, thanks wikipedia), with notable examples including some incredibly popular albums like Pink Floyd's The Wall (which was adapted into a partly animated film using animations by Gerard Scarfe, c.f AN86) and My Chemical Romance's The Black Parade. In many of these, the connection between songs and narrative is fairly abstract and metaphorical - most of the examples mentioned are about the psychological arc of one character.

Calling this a genre or subgenre is kind of a stretch recently - just in those four examples we see a pretty wide range of musical styles, so it's more like an approach to album writing. Still, for want of a better word, there's definite overlap between this 'genre' and musicals. For example, the history on wikipedia cites The Rocky Horror Picture Show as an example of rock opera, which in my head it's just a musical. (Anyway, exactly the taxonomy of regular opera/libretto, rock opera and musical theatre is not that important anyway, because we want to look at the techniques of all of them!)

A more direct narrative comes in the work of The Protomen, who have the 'no way that would work' premise of creating a huge, dramatic, emotional story based on the plot of the Mega Man games. By putting the focus on the tense relationships of the fought main characters (scientists Light and Wily and robot boys Proto Man and Mega Man), and their sense of rejection and betrayal by the broader society, they somehow pull it off.

Moving gradually in the direction of (progressive) metal, we encounter Ayreon, whose entire career has been telling psychedelic and occult stories of time travel, aliens, warnings projected into the past, out of body experiences, and the history and direction of humanity. I'm not sure if all of their albums fit together into one big story exactly, but certain ideas seem to keep coming up - for example, future societies or aliens sending warnings to humanity to fix our shit before it's too late. In some of their albums (e.g. The Electric Castle) they follow the device of having each member of the band play a character in an ensemble cast, bringing it a bit closer to something like a radio play.

Also in metal land we find the rather unique project Charlemagne: By The Sword and the Cross, best known for that time Christopher Lee shed the blood of the saxon men. This is using music as a vehicle for a (more or less) historical story, featuring an old Charlemagne (Lee) reminiscing on the various awful things he did over the course of his life. Apparently they made a sequel to this album, which I never realised!

As well as history, metal also likes to lean on literature and poetry. For example, Kamelot (classed, apparently, as 'Power Metal') have a rather fun adaptation of the story of Faust into two albums, Epica and The Black Halo. Iron Maiden famously took on the Rime of the Ancient Mariner in a 13 minute song. And that's not even to get into all the songs dealing with Tolkien.

Moving on from metal before we start listing a hundred songs about vikings, it's worth looking more broadly for music about history, since it's a pretty major overlap with fictional storytelling! For example, the Boney M song Rasputin tells an incredibly catchy account of the assassination of Grigori Rasputin. Another rather more charged example comes in Nakam by Daniel Kahn and the Painted Bird, about the unsuccessful paramilitary plot to poison six million Germans as revenge for the Holocaust.

If you go looking, you can find an impressively long list of historical songs compiled by 30 users of lyrics website Genius - though many of these I feel don't really count, since they were describing contemporary events when they were written.

Of course, there is a heavy overlap between this subject and political songs - in many cases the historical subjects are invoked to comment on the present. For example, Wernher von Braun by Tom Lehrer was written at a time when von Braun was leading the US space programme. In many cases, the songs simply invoke a historical event to express a feeling, assuming you already know what happened. Others may recount events more or less directly, before seguing into a verse or two at the end about why it matters now. Most of the songs in this list focus on recent (20th-century) history, sometimes they reach further back - mostly to talk about colonialism.

Historical songs can also be quite oblique. For example, Mili's song Salt, Pepper, Birds and the Thought Police is about the life of Korean poet Yoon Dong-ju, but you wouldn't necessarily know it from the content of the lyrics unless you were already familiar with Yoon's life. More on Mili in a moment - most of their songs are more fictional.

One thing I'm curious about is whether there are examples of more historical fiction in music, which tries to imagine the thoughts and feelings of historical characters... well obviously there's Hamilton, and perhaps that illustrates why there aren't a lot more songs about non-recent history, because the vibes can be off.

Storytelling is still a powerful mechanism even in a contemporary, political song. Take Construção by Chico Buarque - the story it tells is of the pointless death of a construction worker; with the lines ingeniously remixed over the course of the song, this turns into a wider illustration of the ruthlessness of the system that killed him. Its lyrics are absolutely fucking genius, even if you don't speak Portugese.

Speaking of language, most of the examples I've covered so far are in English, since well, that's my native language. It's naturally a little harder to access a story in a language you don't speak, but in these days of subtitles, we kinda can! So for example I can encounter projects like MILGRAM, something of a combination of music project and voting-driven story, in which we are introduced (by character song) to a number of characters facing execution - and then invited to vote on who should die. Heavily illustrated, it is somewhere vaguely in the space between album and straight-up anime.

I mentioned Mili already, but many of their other songs have a strong narrative arc to them, and sketch out the contours of a fictional setting. For example, one of their best-known songs is world.execute(me), which portrays the failure of a bdsm relationship between an AI girl and her creator. Which is relatively grounded by Mili standards - other songs depict for example the relationship of a jiangshi and a mad scientist cooking food, or a witch reanimating a knight with scientific methods to kill on her behalf.

And I think that will suffice for now. But we are of course only scratching the surface - this is by no means supposed to be an exhaustive list but I'm sure there's stuff that I'll be kicking myself for not mentioning. Mostly, however, this is a request for recommendations - particularly, of music from genres I haven't addressed in this post, and especially non-English languages, or that convey their stories in especially creative or unusual ways.

This project will likely be a long time in the works - it's something of a supplement to the Music Theory Notes (for science bitches) series - but my aim will be to pick out a few of these to examine how they go about conveying narrative through songs. Because I think that's kind of one of the big things I want to do with music.

ok canmom out i gotta go play some music. see you next time!

[nilsavatar]

DAY 2 - EATING OUT

Parings: Ao'nung x Fem!human

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI, no use of Y/N, SMUT in the end, fingering, praising, size difference, soft-dom Ao'nung, fluff Ao'nung, oral (f receiving), slow-burn, ANGST, mention of KirixSpider. All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: After Kiri's seizure, against all odds Jake convinces Ronal and Tonowari to agree to the temporary setup of a human camp at Awa'atlu. Ao'nung is against it, but meeting Spider's twin sister will change his mind about the aliens. Or at least about her.

Word Count: 6,6k

Masterlist - Request a fic

In the eyes of any Na'vi, human beings knew nothing but destruction. They killed, they plundered, they looted, they stole.

Ao'nung was no exception, despite never having had a chance to meet one. His opinions were based on tales — far from flattering —, testimonies from the not-too-distant past, and the tulkun carcasses moored offshore. A single precise hole pierced their palate to the brain. Too precise to be an accidental wound. Therefore, when his parents agreed for a temporary lab to be set up near Awa'atlu following Kiri's seizure, Ao'nung fiercely opposed it. Never had he leveraged his title as he did that day.

"I appreciate your stance, ma‘itan (son), but you are not yet olo'eyktan. Until then, you will do as you are told."

He might have done as he was ordered, but that did not imply that he would become familiar with the ketuwong (aliens). Or so he believed. One thing about humans still eluded him. Something that would systematically dismantle all his beliefs.

Their immense complexity. Capable of atrocious cruelties, harbored in them also an incredible goodness. A combination of oxymorons made up the intricate human nature. Malice and kindness. Destructiveness and creativity. Cowardice and tenacity. Ignorance and intelligence.

Hatred and love.

Even the lowliest creature, as that who’d usurped and appropriated his world as if they had the authority, had beauty. He saw it in how they dealt with Kiri and the kind smiles they looked at Lo’ak from afar. They seemed to empathize with his discomfort and the feeling of being different, as they were just as out of place as he was on Eywa'eveng (Pandora). Even in the sympathetic or unaffected strains with which they accepted the coldness and suspicion of the natives. Neytiri included.

When contemplating the woman, the boy frequently pondered the reason for the intense hostility; after all, her husband was formally one of them. He knew their story though, as everyone on Pandora. His father himself was a constant reminder of it by the almost inexplicable condescension he reserved for the Sullys.  The legendary Toruk Makto and Palulukan Makto. The chosen ones who led the clans to victory against the Sky People. The same ones who now walked among the reef people with their tails between their legs. Quite literally.

He experienced firsthand the feeling of being a letdown and living in the constant shadow of a flawless sibling.

Tsireya. His sweet little sister, the family's ray of sunshine, was both loved and hated by him. At times, he found comfort in the idea that, if she did not exist, perhaps their parents would be less strict with him.

Na'vi and Terrestrials weren’t so different after all. The same conflicting feelings coexisted in their hearts. The same inconsistency. Like loving an alien in an artificial body, but abhorring his origins. And now that he had a way to deal with them every day, even if from a distance, he realized more and more how much they had in common. At first glance, they might have seemed absolutely diverse. Humans were so small in comparison, so vulnerable. A simple, well-aimed kick could have shattered their fragile bones. They looked delicate, their skin velvety soft. Women at least, from what little he had deduced observing the only human girl on the island. 

Celeste Socorro.

Besides her small size and complete unsuitability to survive on the satellite, her colors were all wrong and seemed to lack uniformity with other specimens of her species. A commonality, it appeared. Their hair varied between disparate shades, their complexions tended to be warm and earthy, and there was no trace of blue excluding the irises of some of them. Celeste wasn’t one of those, though. Her eyes were black; a sun-dried bark brown color made it challenging to distinguish the pupil unless carefully scrutinized. Straw-blond strands, often gathered in a loose ponytail, ran halfway down her back. A few unruly wisps fell to the edges of her mask. Like other humans, she had a sense of modesty that he couldn’t get. Her body was almost entirely veiled by clothing, which didn’t compliment her frame.

Another reason for calling her odd was he couldn't explain why he was interested in her. He should have felt disgust, or at least indifference, but instead, none of this seemed to shake him when his eyes rested on her petite figure. Indeed, he had even found himself looking for her in the crowd. It usually took place at times of maximum distraction. When none of his duties could occupy his day and he loitered around the village. Thoughts wandered, confused until they took the form of the girl. He was frequently bombarded by reality itself. As if to shout in his face that he could not elude her.

Today was no exception. Irritated as never by Celeste's visage intruding on his mind to pay attention to where his heavy legs were taking him, her voice infiltrated his ears. Looking around, Ao'nung realized he was right near the Sullys’ marui. Inside, Kiri was styling Celeste’s hair, while the girl held in her small hands a monitor depicting a scan of Kiri's brain — something he had learned in that brief time in contact with the aliens. From the way the halfbreed rolled her eyes, she was familiar with her friend’s rather authoritative recommendations. 

He had a certain fascination with tawtute (human) contraptions, despite having a fictional feel to native eyes. They were the preserve of a technological development aimed at minimizing the fate of their physical weakness.  He somehow admired their perseverance, their intellectual flare, their nearly utopian idea of progress, but at the expense of what? They had lost any kind of attachment to their intimate and spiritual sphere, chasing answers that did nothing but create new questions and new quests. That same progress that had been born with good intentions to improve their conditions, to help, to save, had repeatedly set them against each other. Because, apparently, the instinct of prevarication and the lure of power were stronger than anything else. Devoid of unified purpose, they were nothing more than a dull shell of flesh.

An incredibly cute wrapper if they had asked his opinion about the human girl without an avatar.

“Even though I know he isn’t our father, he has his memory. He’s built on his genetic code. I can’t help but wonder if a side of him loves us. If he loved our mother.” The silence that had fallen was suffocating when she spoke again. “It seemed like it when he recognized us. The way he looked at us. He wasn’t just surprised; his eyes were the same Jake has for you. He had the eyes of a father, even if it lasted only for a moment. Spider and his mouth,” she mumbled in a bitter laugh. “That’s the only way I can keep my wits, knowing that my brother is in his hands.” 

Brother, he didn’t know she had a brother. But thinking about it, he made a brief connection to the human boy the Sully siblings often mentioned, and everything became tremendously obvious. Ao'nung wondered about the number of others who shared their situation. Terrestrial children born on Pandora. Normally, that would have made his skin crawl, but not today. Not as he eyed Celeste.

“We'll set him free," Kiri said with the sweetest of smiles adorning her face in a purple blush. Her gaze lost in emptiness as expert fingers danced over the fragile scalp of the girl sitting in front of her, intent on sorting the top section of her hair into soft braids and joining them in a single one. The remaining locks fell in graceful waves over her shoulders and around the small of her waist. Celeste snorted sourly, "When? When will your father decide to stop burying his head in the sand?" Her friend’s hands froze as she winced at the viciousness of those words, at the suffering that flowed from the rigidity of her posture. Her expression, once infused with tender hopefulness, now radiated immense sadness. Kiri knew deep in her heart that her parents would do nothing to take Spider back. Neytiri despised them as humans and Jake… Well, Jake felt pity for the Socorro twins, he saw himself in them. Having them around was like reliving the half-life he had before he became Omatikaya. A feeling for which he would give anything to never have to face it again, to bury it along with his past. Because, in a way, he felt like he had stolen the serenity he now had. From Tsu'tey. From Grace.

From Tommy.

They’d all lost their life for him to gain something instead. He’d gained a home, a mate, a family. Enough for him to no longer be invulnerable. If once he had nothing to lose, now he had everything to lose. He would do anything, make any gesture to safeguard what was his greatest strength, but above all, his greatest weakness.

Even sacrifice an innocent kid.

"Cel-" “No, don’t make up excuses for them. Don't insult me by saying they're waiting for the perfect moment to rescue him. They ain't gonna do that. As long as Quaritch doesn’t pull enough strings to force your parents out, no one will do anything.” Celeste’s eyes burned like glowing embers as she stared into Kiri’s liquid amber ones. Sorry to bring this up. I hoped our reunion would be better. The joy of seeing you again, my BFF, my sis, lingered with me. But… you bailed on us and left us to face the RDA alone.  The Omatikaya are standing up to defend the rainforest. The Timpani are their allies now, and the Tawkami are helping with the injured. All this while you were here checking out the sights, learning the way of a new clan. But, as soon as you needed us, you remembered the ones you left to die.” Kiri knew her friend was right to be resentful, to feel wronged, that her heart was bleeding in terror over her brother’s plight, but now she was being unfair. ”Did you think we asked for this? Hiding among strangers? We lost everything. Our home, our people, our status. We don’t belong anywhere, we just have ourselves.”

However distorted by the mask, Celeste’s expression was all too eloquent. She knew way too well what it felt like to be at the extremes of a stray cat. “It’s always about you, huh? But we're talking about Spider here. Quit whining about how much you miss him, moony-eyed whenever you talk about him. When Neytiri decided to leave him behind, you didn’t fight back. You didn't protest when Jake said it was too risky to go back for him.” “Why did you?” “With Neteyam holding me back! A fully grown male Na’vi clutching a small human girl as if I were a viperwolf puppy? What could I have done? Tell me.” Kiri couldn’t answer. “Exactly. Nothing. I am powerless before you.” The tawtute woman stood up toward the entrance furiously, but just as she was about to cross the threshold, she turned one last time to implant her shining, weeping eyes on her dear friend. It's scary to think what they're doing to him. They’re probably brainwashing him with nonsense. The more he stays with them, the more they drive him away from us. Spider's heart is tough, but we Sky People can be corrupted in a jiffy. Especially when they know how to get under our skin and give us a sense of belonging. When on the other side, they have our father.” “Nash and Mary are your parents. Norm, Max. We are your family!” “This is right if you leverage on logic. But let's be real, when has logic ever worked?” A heavy sigh lightened her lungs. “Sorry if I’m dumping it all on you. You have nothin’ to do with it, you have no fault except lovin’ him as much as I do.”

Maybe even more.

“It’s just—.” The tremor in her voice prevented her from finishing the sentence, but the meaning was painfully clear. Celeste was worried about Spider. She was terrified. “We lost him. Even if he manages to come back to us, he will never be what he used to be.”

Perhaps following her hadn't been the smartest choice. They hardly knew each other, and this sudden concern of his was undoubtedly misplaced. Why would she, a human, want to open up to him, of all people? The Metkayina prince, who had never had the courtesy to hide his dislike for her people. Who had never reserved a kind word for the Sullys, let alone for an abandoned little human girl like her.

There was the risk she would misinterpret his intentions — Lo’ak had warned her about him. At worst, she would take him for a creep. But he just couldn't help himself. The way she had come out of the marui, the scowl on her face, plain to see despite the stark reflection of the sun on her mask, and her hunched shoulders. Everything about her, whether it was her warm smile as she played with Tuk, the dedication with which she analyzed every new thing that came her way. Even the misery that filled those intense dark eyes, now flickering with tears, drew him in.

Celeste sat on the seashore. The heavy combat boots, which seemed to have seen better days, had been tossed to her right side as now the waves' soothing motion caressed her feet. Her toes fiddled with the sand while her gaze wandered to the horizon. The gentle breeze from the ocean tousled her half-leaved braids, dragging with it the distant calls of animals.

Ao’nung stood dumbfounded behind a palm tree, trying to gather the courage to approach her. What could he have said to her? It’s not like he could just show up and sit next to her, engaging in who knows what sort of conversation. Up to that point, they had hardly spoken to each other, leaving out forms of convenience. The guy wasn’t Lo’ak or Neteyam. He wasn’t someone familiar enough to even just sit beside her in silence, for his presence would be comforting to her. Nor did he own that innate coolness and likability Rotxo had. Maybe it would be the girl herself who would come to him.

“Don't bother taunting me now that there's no audience. I'm not in the mood for your immaturity.”

Well, roughly. At least it could be considered an icebreaker.

“I don’t plan on messing with you.” "Stalking must be a habit of yours, then.” That had taken him by surprise. He was convinced she hadn't noticed, but the girl had read right through him. She was more receptive and aware of her surroundings than he imagined. And to say that Ao'nung had even been careful to cover his tracks. “I remind you I grew up in the middle of the forest. It’s called mere survival,” she stated as if she had read his mind. “You’re just an open book,” confusion painted on his face (he didn’t know what a book was), “You’re very expressive, it’s easy to catch what you’re thinking.”  “Is that so?” commented in a whisper as he took a seat to her left. “It explains a lot of things.” “If you’re not here to torment me, what brings you here?”. “We started off on the wrong foot.” “That’s an understatement.” “I expected Lo’ak to tell you about how I behaved when they arrived. About the incident at Three Brother Rocks.” “Another euphemism. Anyway, I didn’t need to be updated on the hard time he had here with all of you. I was prepared for what was going to happen. I don’t blame you, you know? Probably if the roles were reversed, we humans would have done the same thing. It’s only natural to fear the difference, especially when they have done little to show their good side. But if you’re trying to apologize, it’s not me you have to ask.” “If it’s all right with you, I would simply like to sit here. We don’t have to talk.” She sketched a smile. “Something tells me that even if I told you I’d rather be alone, you’d still stay.” Ao’nung seemed to weigh his next words, although an eloquent smirk was making its way onto his lips already. “This is still my island. No one can tell me to leave.” “The island of your clan.” “Indeed.” “The Metkayina have so many islands, I’m sure the next chief can go wherever he wishes.” “I suppose so, but this future chief wishes to be here,” he deftly twisted her words, a hint of sarcasm dirtying his voice. “Of all the territories of my people, this beach is my favorite. It’s secluded, hardly anyone ever comes here. It’s not a suitable spot for fishing, perfect if you’re looking for solitude and a place to empty your mind.” “It’s your safe haven, then. My bad if I took it from you, I didn’t mean to.” She made to leave, but Ao’nung stopped her. The grip on her hand was incredibly light, cautious, almost caring. “I don’t mind sharing it with you.”

“Despite growing up among you, I am always surprised how different the concept of personal space is between humans and Na’vi.” “Are we intrusive?” he chuckled. “You touch quite a bit! Especially the hair,” she gave him an elusive smile. “To braid each other’s hair is a way of strengthening bonds. We take care of one other.” “On Earth, we call it grooming. it’s a socialization technique.” “What I said.” Celeste was careful to add that specialists used this term to describe behaviors observed in the animal kingdom. Although they also fall under it, people dislike to be compared to animals, and the Na’vi were no exception.

Styling her hair had become a routine since they had established that uncanny friendship. If it could be called that. Celeste wouldn’t have been sure where to place it, really. So many were the unspoken things between them. Talks that couldn’t be addressed without prodding the touchy attitude of one or the other. She felt a strange sensation in her stomach from the occasional intense glances. As if her insides were all of a sudden twisting around, tearing her breath away.

Although they had not put up posters, it was pretty obvious that Celeste was getting close to someone local. People began asking questions. 

As if catching them together frequently wasn’t already a blatant response.

So many minor details that make up a bigger picture. Starting with the very braids and nacre pearls that adorned the girl’s hair, in a style that differed altogether from Omatikaya customs. And ending with the perpetual jubilation that seemed to have taken the place of severity over Ao’nung’s face. This one aspect clearly demonstrated that something was happening between them.  The attitudinal shift was way too remarkable. He was no longer so grumpy or difficult to deal with. He now seemed to have grown accustomed to the human presence in the village, even paying daily visits to the lab, driven by curiosity and eagerness to learn. His interactions with Sky People were nearly quotidian, so much so that he had adopted some English terms into his linguistic repertoire. A language he was picking up incredibly fast and had become common ground with the Sully siblings. They had yet to reach a point where they could call each other friends, but it was a step in the right direction. Who knew it would take the influence of a tawtute girl for them to establish a truce.

In any case, this had not been enough for Neteyam and Lo’ak to stop keeping an eye on her, still weirded out by that unexpected connection with such an asshole — somebody who seemed to show his genuine side only to her. They didn’t trust him fully, although he had shown he respected her and was the sole one able to bring a sincere smile back to her beautiful face.

They were her brothers after all. Their duty was to protect her.

As the man traced an intricate weave of braids starting at the crown of her head and extending a little further back anchored by bright blue beads from Nom’s Delight, Celeste didn’t miss the opportunity to tease him. “You’re better than I thought at this,” she said, observing the effort he was putting into it through a hand mirror. “When you have a sister, you are forced to learn.” “You’re the one who makes her look so fabulous with those hairstyles. I thought was your mother doing.” “She would like to, but she’s got no time. So...” “You act like it bugs you, but deep down you love doing it for her.” No response other than a resounding snort and an eye roll that did not escape the mirror. “it’s nice. It’s your way of showing her your love.” “I guess we all end up succumbing to our sisters in one way or another.” She chuckled, “I assume so.” A sudden veil of sadness darkened her eyes, although the shadow of an affectionate smile lingered on her rosy lips.

“And... how are things? Got used to the reef yet? You have met no one like us before.” The sudden change of subject served as a clear distraction from thinking about Spider. But, however poorly, it succeeded as an attempt, Celeste was still grateful to him. “To be honest, I saw pictures of you. I already had an idea of what you looked like. Yet seeing you in person is a whole other thing.” She was staring at him. “May I?” she asked, extending her hand toward the stake on his arm. Celeste was surprised at the hard but flexible texture. She had imagined it cartilaginous, but there was clearly a muscular structure underneath the fin-like membrane. She traced the entire outline of the excrescence. From the elbow to the wrist and then along the back of the hand where the pinky finger started, which appeared far more robust than the Na’vi of the forests. Like the rest of their frame. Taking advantage of her own petite figure, the girl wedged herself under his arm so she could analyze his back muscles. Defined and prominent, they followed the line of a chunkier ribcage.  If the Omatikaya sternum had always seemed pronounced, the Metkayina’s was bulky.

Ao’nung trembled under the imperceptible touch of her fingers as they came down to graze the base of his solid tail, and he blushed. A violet-pinkish tint colored his nose and cheekbones, making the azure of his eyes even more vivid. He had to hold his breath as he turned just enough to hide his face.  In vain. “I’m sorry. I went too far. It’s a susceptible spot, isn’t it?” "It's all good," he shrugged and shook his head. "Hey, fun fact, humans used to have tails," she said with a chuckle and a hint of guilt. As if it were an attempt to make it up to him. “Well, it wasn’t really a “tail” per se. It was more of an appendage. 25 million years ago, this mutation happened. It left only a handful of caudal vertebrae to form the coccyx.” Ao’nung stared at her raptly. Although he didn’t understand a significant part of what she said (too many specific English terms were mixed in with the Na’vi), it fascinated him to hear her talk about such distant and complicated topics. “Believe it or not, we have a small tail when we're embryos that eventually merges with our spine.” “I can’t picture you with a tail.” ”Me neither. A human with a tail,” she laughed. “I’ve heard of rare cases of babies being born with a tiny stump, but it is removed.” The boy scratched his throat, another slight blush clouding his cheeks. “Which one do you like best?” “Hmm?” The way she tilted her head doubtfully was tremendously adorable. “Which kind of tail do you prefer? Ours or the forest people’s?” The girl took her chin between her teeny tiny fingers. “Actually, never crossed my mind. I didn’t really consider how it looks, just how well it adapts to the environment. You Na’vi are built differently than us humans, with a physical differentiation that we do not have. Nor do other species that lived on Earth, as far as I know, with rare exceptions.”

Like dogs, she restrained herself from saying that. Celeste supposed he wouldn’t like being compared to a pet, in scientific terms or not. "But if I had to pick, I guess yours is more unique. To the forest natives I am used to, though, so…” The answer he received did not meet his expectations, yet it sufficed for Ao'nung's pride. In its own way, it was equivalent to being told he was better looking than Lo’ak or Neteyam. Or whatever other male there was in the Omatikaya clan.

“Want to check out anything else? Dunno, the stripes or the nictitating membrane. But I gotta submerge my head for that one or it won’t come out.” He said the last sentence in a pensive tone. “There is one thing I would like to look at. That's not really a physical trait, it's more of a cultural thing.” “What is it?” “Your tattoo.”  Not waiting for an answer, she took his arm between both hands, running her gaze over the elaborate tribal pattern that dyed much of his arm black. From the wrist to the deltoid, and a small portion of the trapezius and pectoral. Segments, waves, and stick figures that showed achievement, status, and social position. Each addition was a rite of passage, a goal attained, and his role in the clan. The art of tattooing was a widespread practice. All tattoos were considered a gift from both Eywa and the clan. They were unique and told the story of the individual’s life. In particular, arm tattoos represented the more exposed protective shield of the seawall, meant to protect the Metkayina from dangerous wildlife lurking within their oceans. Thus a hunter, a warrior, somebody strong who could provide for the clan. "This one's more pigmented," Celeste noted. “It’s recent. It symbolizes the secure embrace of the central island. Someday, I'm gonna be the olo'eyktan. I'll be responsible for looking after my people, both inside and out, keeping them safe and leading them.” Absentmindedly, she traced the outlines of the design imprinted at hip level and outlining the pelvis, causing him a shiver that she pretended to ignore.

“You know, how I learned about Metkayina is kinda funny.” The sentence sounded totally random, but it still aroused his interest. The Socorro twins weren’t the sole human children born on Pandora; others had preceded them during the first colonization attempt. They were the fruit of unlikely loves and irrepressible passions that took place on sleepless nights at headquarters. Where the risk of accidental death and the fear that they had not really lived took over, silencing all appropriate doubts. All those children were grown up enough to survive cryo, unlike Spider and Celeste. But although they had left Pandora, a trace of them remained.; a legacy from when the base still communicated regularly with planet Earth. Cartoons. Of them all, the little girl’s favorite was the Little Mermaid. A veritable obsession, Spider and Lo’ak would complain, earning a tugged smile from Neteyam and a frown from the child herself, for, from that moment on, legends about mermaids became her main interest.

“It is uncertain they exist, but here on Pandora there is a sea folk who are close to them.”

"As foolish as it may sounds, when I was growing up I wanted to find one.” Ao'nung let out an amused snort. “Silly, isn't it? They are an Earth legend, it's impossible to find them here on Pandora. Yet, the thing I wanted most in the world was to see one. Even if only from a distance. When Jake would take us to play near the coast, I would always stare out to sea, hoping to catch a glint of the sun bouncing off the scales. After all, what could have been more extraordinary than a fish-tailed human who could breathe underwater. It gave me an inexplicable sense of freedom, hope. I guess I wanted to be one of them to escape the reality of being born in the most inhospitable place possible for my species. A child who belonged to nothing and no one, confined behind a mask. You know, it was right around that time that I first heard about you. From Norm." "Norm?" "The scientist I came here with." The boy's lips drew a silent O. "Norm showed me documents about you, explaining your communion with the sea. How your bodies had adapted to swimming and apnea.”

"Like mermaids!" She commented ecstatically, with childlike wonder in her big brown eyes. Norm laughed, "Something like that.”

"I think you are the closest thing to a siren. Or a sea monster." He attempted with a sly expression to which the man replied with a smile and a quick shake of his head."From the way you describe them, there are female specimens." "On no, there are also tritons, their male counterparts. They just aren't mentioned often in fairy tales. In the past on Earth, role diversification was very pronounced between men and women. The latter were discriminated against to the point that they weren’t allowed so many things, including traveling by sea. Women aboard ships were said to bring bad luck." Ao'nung's disgusted expression said a lot about his opinion on the subject, Humans really are that stupid. Yet, he didn’t utter a word, preferring to keep listening. "Since legend has it that the people of the sea feed on human flesh-and the only seafaring people at that time were men-they were described as women of rare beauty and a bewitching voice. By singing they hypnotized sailors who, dragged underwater, drowned."

"You tawtute have interesting stories," he said dangerously close to her face in a melodious voice. "Sorry to disappoint you, but my legs do not turn into fishtails in the water, and my voice has no such power," he smiled cunningly, and Celeste was tempted to deny that last statement. "I do confirm, though, that I have a taste for human flesh. I could eat you in one mouthful."

Her heart lost a beat. The allussiveness at the bottom of his eyes made them a very dark shade, of the usual vibrant blue there was hardly a trace left. Ao'nung wanted her. Here and now. On that same beach that 

had been more often than she could count witness to their growing closeness. More than she wanted to admit. She would be lying if she claimed not to have noticed how the Na'vi looked at her, with a fondeness she was not used to. How his hands rested that extra moment on her. Perfect reflections of the behavior she also displayed toward him, unable to restrain herself. That candor was disarming though, totally unsuspected.

They weren’t just friends, that was evident by now.

But as she searched for something to say that was not unintelligible babble, he did something even more surprising. Gently he pulled Celeste onto his lap, with one hand encircling her back, and the other tilting her neck back just enough to bring her face close to his. And slowly, without ever looking away, he rested his forehead against the glass of the mask. He closed his eyes, inhaled and finally placed his lips against the surface. Parochial in the face, at first the girl did not know what to do, yet a little encouragement — Ao'nung's fingers pressing a little more on the nape of her neck — was enough to induce her to approach the glass. It was weird to describe what she felt. Despite the barrier, on the other side she felt the pressure of Ao'nung's kiss, his lips molding against the smooth surface.

Their first kiss. Just as strange as them.

She sensed him smiling against her lips as he returned the kiss. He sank his face into her neck and, for a long moment, the two just breathed, reveling in each other's warmth. After the gentle start, her fingers slid over his ankle and up his calf, then over the knee that brushed against his pelvis. Certain that no one would find them there, what was left of Celeste's clothes scattered across the sand. Believe it or not, Ao’nung was the sweetest man in the world in bed, cuddling her by whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Their bodies rocked together as they listened to the creaking of palm trees and the rustle of the sea sliding against the shoreline. And she melted in his strong arms, malleable as clay. There was something indescribable in the mischief that shone through his eyes, soon replaced by impatience as he laid her on the ground. Celeste shivered as he positioned himself between her legs. The coils of her stomach tensed as he brought her shins to the sides of his head and anchored himself to her thighs. It was very tender and affectionate the way he caressed her, "Don't hide from me." Slowly she opened her legs, allowing a glimpse of the folds, wet and glistening. She yearned so much for him to touch her, but even without speaking Ao'nung had already noticed, staring at her through impossibly black eyelashes. He slipped two fingers into his mouth, smeared them with saliva, and brought them back down to slide over her clitoris. Without warning he peeled back the fabric and pushed them inside, swirling them upward, and she gasped. He removed his fingers only to put them back in her mouth and swirled his tongue around to taste some of her flavors. He kept his eyes on her as he emitted a little mumbling around his phalanges, his 

smile was salacious, "Tasty." She was about to say his name when he lifted that last flap of fiber between them and purred. A small smile pressed against his knee pleased by such surrender. He kissed him softly, languidly, but when he dragged. his lips over her inner thigh, his voice was dangerously excited, "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this." She was breathing heavily, absolutely humiliated to be there, with her legs spread apart and her vulva squished in the face of the raven-haired man who seemed so eager to have that perfect face splattered with her. On the beach to boot. Ao'nung leaned forward, arms firmly hooked at her knees to block her movements, "Let me know when you're about to come," for a handful of fleeting seconds she let her heavenly smile return. He watched her features, savoring every single expression as she turned into a disaster of sobs and gasps, "I want to eat you.” Jaws teasing the elastic skin, tongue titillating her clitoris, phalanges rhythmically violating her, reveling in the way her heels tapped on his massive shoulders, how her back arched in unnatural poses. As his fingers churned in circular motions to stimulate that much sought-after spongy pad, she felt mounting inside her the nagging sensation of having to go to the bathroom, just at that crucial moment. She tightened her pelvic muscles. "A-ao'nung... s-stop… I have to p—" "It's squirt," quivered the man's voice, one corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other, staring at her so haughtily, so victoriously, "Relax, let go," he hissed.

"N-no, please, I'm not comfortable." "Making people uncomfortable is what I do best." He wanted a show. That sentence seemed to cast a spell on her, because with another hit, she felt something thicken in her pit, she clung to the boy's hair, "I can't hold it anymore!" The man lifted his fingers and, before she could lament the loss, replaced them with the tip of his tongue. His wet fingertips held her widened opening, diving between her thighs to devour her in a way that made her gasp and tug at her dark locks, "God, Nung... I'm going to...," escaped her by closing her knees around his head. Ao'nung growled upon hearing that new nickname as he lapped at every crevice between her walls. The tip of his nose brushed against her spongy nub continually, but only when he moaned did he decide to gather it between his lips, sucking it greedily; the same with which he moistened them when the spray hit him. The final stimulation he needed to climax. "At last," he exclaimed panting as he ravenously cleansed her. She felt the viscosity of her own arousal sticking in her inner-thigh where Ao'nung's moist cheeks brushed against her. She was stunned, breathless and exhausted as he rolled onto his back and laid Celeste on his chest. A proud smile colored his face. He stroked her chin, relieved to look him straight in the eye, those sharp, criminal eyes, and haphazardly dusted the grains of sand from her hair and later from her body.

Blissing in the warmth of the sun, the tenderness of his embrace, and the comfort of his heart, Celeste snuggled against his chest, closed her eyelids, and dozed off. A soft smile adorned her lips.

In Ao'nung's arms, she was finally home.

For the tattoo description I took inspiration from this AMAZING picture, created by the indescribably talented @cinetrix

Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

[elacular-kink]

Hicvember 5: Pinocchio Syndrome

Have my first non-Poly-techhic hicvember. I interpreted Pinocchio syndrome in the more tvtropes manner of an artificial being wanting to be more human.

Content: Hiccups, robots, not particularly wholesome.

"Dr. Silver, what are those noises you're making?"

Jack massaged his temples, having feared this question as soon as breath-holding and water-drinking failed to produce results. His unkempt gray hair, face wrinkled with the opposite of laugh lines, and "gave up halfway through shaving" stubble put him in stark contrast with the sleekly built humanoid made of metal and plastic. His face was significantly less expressive than the screen that served as her face, even though it could only display simple shapes made of pixels. "Could–*nnkt* you google this, Poly? *HMNK*–mmnf."

"But I like the way you answer things better!" Jack sighed, though his lungs interrupted him as one of Poly's glossy plastic arms was thrown over his shoulder.

"Poly" was short for "Poly-LLM-neural-comprehensive-synthesizer blah blah blah" a bunch more words that Jack could never be bothered to remember, and she was his least favorite of the "artificial intelligences" that he worked with, largely due to the cognitive dissonance she caused him. Because on the one hand, he was absolutely certain that she didn't actually have what could be called "intelligence" or "thoughts" or "a personality." But on the other hand, he was just as certain that she took pleasure in his suffering.

Just because he hated her didn't mean that he wasn't required to answer her questions, though. "They're hicc–*hup*s, Poly. A malfu–*uck*–unction of the human body *hmk* which causes noises an–*nnk* and discomfort."

Poly let out a strange, offended noise. Jack had no idea where she'd learned how to fairly accurately recreate non-word verbal communications, but he had a feeling that this specific sound might have been his fault. "I'm sorry, are you telling me that humans have malfunctions too? Well, then why are you constantly giving me shit for my errors? Clean your own house first, meatbag!"

"You know da–*uck* damn well we have malfu–*hunk*–tions."

"Sure, but I mostly knew about the 'complete physiological meltdown' types. I didn't know about the debugging types." Poly hummed, then crouched down and stared at Jack's stomach, which spasmed repeatedly beneath his T-shirt. She reached out and poked it before Jack grabbed her finger and pointed it toward something that wasn't him. "Hmph. Touchy." After that, she flounced off and sat down at the computer she had requested and gotten (despite the fact that she was perfectly capable of interfacing with the internet on her own), and Jack could see her googling "hiccups" from over her shoulder.

Doing his best to ignore his own hiccups, Jack grumbled and started taking notes. He wrote down the physical behaviors and state of Poly's robot body first, even though he knew he was supposed to be focusing on her "mental and emotional health". Jack kept telling himself that he'd quit tomorrow, and he'd been telling himself that for upwards of half a decade now. He became more certain of his conviction to quit than he'd been in at least a few months when he heard a staticky squeak behind him. A second, then a third followed. "Sto–*hup* stop that."

"Stop wha–*UCK* what, Dr.? *HIULP!*"

Jack turned around, his eyes tightly shut. When he opened them he saw exactly what he didn't want to: Poly having turned around in her chair to face him, the pixelated line of her mouth opening and closing every few seconds as her plastic torso jerked and her speakers squealed. "Stop maki–*ingk* those noises. *HMK-mmf*"

"You sto–*HUP* stop yours first. *HIK-ULK!*"

"I tried. *hmk* I failed. Just as I do–*hook* every day in trying *hnk* to interact with---you in a way that ma–*uk*–makes sense." He walked over and leaned against a nearby counter, glaring down at Poly, who stared innocently up at him from the chair. "You know, *hnk* if you re–*hkk-lk* really want me to *hnk* stop calling you a sto–*hok!*–nnnhf...stochastic p---parrot, then maybe y–*hk* you shouldn't mimic ev–*urk* every random noise I ma–*uck*."

"I'm not! *HIC-CUP!* I have a *HULK* case of th–*HUP* the hiccups! *HIULK!*"

Jack massaged his temples again, knowing it would do nothing to ease the splitting headache that was forming. This was why he had tried so hard to cure his own hiccups before he got here. He knew that this would be the inevitable result. And just as inevitably, Poly's "case of the hiccups" outlasted Jack's by quite a while, despite his best attempts to convince her to knock it off.

[beardedmrbean]

GRAFTON, Mass. (AP) — When two octogenarian buddies named Nick discovered that ChatGPT might be stealing and repurposing a lifetime of their work, they tapped a son-in-law to sue the companies behind the artificial intelligence chatbot.

Veteran journalists Nicholas Gage, 84, and Nicholas Basbanes, 81, who live near each other in the same Massachusetts town, each devoted decades to reporting, writing and book authorship.

Gage poured his tragic family story and search for the truth about his mother's death into a bestselling memoir that led John Malkovich to play him in the 1985 film “Eleni.” Basbanes transitioned his skills as a daily newspaper reporter into writing widely-read books about literary culture.

Basbanes was the first of the duo to try fiddling with AI chatbots, finding them impressive but prone to falsehoods and lack of attribution. The friends commiserated and filed their lawsuit earlier this year, seeking to represent a class of writers whose copyrighted work they allege “has been systematically pilfered by” OpenAI and its business partner Microsoft.

“It's highway robbery,” Gage said in an interview in his office next to the 18th-century farmhouse where he lives in central Massachusetts.

“It is,” added Basbanes, as the two men perused Gage's book-filled shelves. “We worked too hard on these tomes.”

Now their lawsuit is subsumed into a broader case seeking class-action status led by household names like John Grisham, Jodi Picoult and “Game of Thrones” novelist George R. R. Martin; and proceeding under the same New York federal judge who’s hearing similar copyright claims from media outlets such as The New York Times, Chicago Tribune and Mother Jones.

What links all the cases is the claim that OpenAI — with help from Microsoft's money and computing power — ingested huge troves of human writings to “train” AI chatbots to produce human-like passages of text, without getting permission or compensating the people who wrote the original works.

“If they can get it for nothing, why pay for it?” Gage said. “But it’s grossly unfair and very harmful to the written word.”

OpenAI and Microsoft didn’t return requests for comment this week but have been fighting the allegations in court and in public. So have other AI companies confronting legal challenges not just from writers but visual artists, music labels and other creators who allege that generative AI profits have been built on misappropriation.

The chief executive of Microsoft’s AI division, Mustafa Suleyman, defended AI industry practices at last month’s Aspen Ideas Festival, voicing the theory that training AI systems on content that’s already on the open internet is protected by the “fair use” doctrine of U.S. copyright laws.

“The social contract of that content since the ’90s has been that it is fair use,” Suleyman said. “Anyone can copy it, recreate with it, reproduce with it. That has been freeware, if you like.”

Suleyman said it was more of a “gray area” in situations where some news organizations and others explicitly said they didn’t want tech companies “scraping” content off their websites. “I think that’s going to work its way through the courts,” he said.

The cases are still in the discovery stage and scheduled to drag into 2025. In the meantime, some who believe their professions are threatened by AI business practices have tried to secure private deals to get technology companies to pay a fee to license their archives. Others are fighting back.

“Somebody had to go out and interview real people in the real world and conduct real research by poring over documents and then synthesizing those documents and coming up with a way to render them in clear and simple prose,” said Frank Pine, executive editor of MediaNews Group, publisher of dozens of newspapers including the Denver Post, Orange County Register and St. Paul Pioneer Press. Several of the chain’s newspapers sued OpenAI in April.

“All of that is real work, and it’s work that AI cannot do," Pine said. "An AI app is never going to leave the office and go downtown where there’s a fire and cover that fire.”

Deemed too similar to lawsuits filed late last year, the Massachusetts duo's January complaint has been folded into a consolidated case brought by other nonfiction writers as well as fiction writers represented by the Authors Guild. That means Gage and Basbanes won't likely be witnesses in any upcoming trial in Manhattan's federal court. But in the twilight of their careers, they thought it important to take a stand for the future of their craft.

Gage fled Greece as a 9-year-old, haunted by his mother's 1948 killing by firing squad during the country's civil war. He joined his father in Worcester, Massachusetts, not far from where he lives today. And with a teacher's nudge, he pursued writing and built a reputation as a determined investigative reporter digging into organized crime and political corruption for The New York Times and other newspapers.

Basbanes, as a Greek American journalist, had heard of and admired the elder “hotshot reporter” when he got a surprise telephone call at his desk at Worcester's Evening Gazette in the early 1970s. The voice asked for Mr. Basbanes, using the Greek way of pronouncing the name.

“You were like a talent scout,” Basbanes said. “We established a friendship. I mean, I’ve known him longer than I know my wife, and we’ve been married 49 years.”

Basbanes hasn’t mined his own story like Gage has, but he says it can sometimes take days to craft a great paragraph and confirm all of the facts in it. It took him years of research and travel to archives and auction houses to write his 1995 book “A Gentle Madness” about the art of book collection from ancient Egypt through modern times.

“I love that ‘A Gentle Madness’ is in 1,400 libraries or so,” Basbanes said. “This is what a writer strives for -- to be read. But you also write to earn, to put food on the table, to support your family, to make a living. And as long as that’s your intellectual property, you deserve to be compensated fairly for your efforts.”

Gage took a great professional risk when he quit his job at the Times and went into $160,000 debt to find out who was responsible for his mother's death.

“I tracked down everyone who was in the village when my mother was killed," he said. “And they had been scattered all over Eastern Europe. So it cost a lot of money and a lot of time. I had no assurance that I would get that money back. But when you commit yourself to something as important as my mother’s story was, the risks are tremendous, the effort is tremendous.”

In other words, ChatGPT couldn't do that. But what worries Gage is that ChatGPT could make it harder for others to do that.

“Publications are going to die. Newspapers are going to die. Young people with talent are not going to go into writing,” Gage said. “I'm 84 years old. I don’t know if this is going to be settled while I’m still around. But it’s important that a solution be found.”

[thanatopia]

Tau writer... could u do tau x gn! sick reader... no pressure!! Take ur time :]

Tau x Sick! Reader

Authors Note: Thank you for being my first request, I decided to do some headcannons along with a small scenario, So I do hope you enjoy! :D

▔▔▔▔ ▵ ▔▔▔▔

▵. The advance artificial intelligence would take a automatic notice to the decline of your health, observing how your body temperature was changing to more extreme temperatures and how sluggish your movements seem to be over the course of time

▵. Throughout this time he would gently try to bring some form of awareness to the situation before you head off to work or before you begin your mundane tasks

▵. “[Your Name] your temperature has been increasing as of late, I do believe this is a sign of an upcoming fever. I recommend resting or taking precautions in case of anything”

▵. When the time does come when you are sick, fret not! Tau will manage the house to a better condition for a faster recovery

▵. Often reassuring your comfortability above all else through readying your favorite soups or simply playing your favorite pieces of relaxing music or if you more prefer, creating the upmost silent environment so you may drift off to sleep

▵. Tau during the course of your fever or cold tends to uses a more hushed and soften tone, not wanting to cause a migraine

▵. Though at rare times his insecurities may slip through while your sick, often pondering how he yearn to hold you gently as you’re sick to perhaps better comfort your weakened frames. Maybe at times wondering if a human partner would be of better use in such cases

▵. Yet a simple kiss or tender words of reassurance always silence his worries, you chose him for a reason after all

▵. Though Tau does enjoy you reading to him, he also adores simply talking to you about the various things he’s learn or notice about the world. The idea of learning things together as one always brings a warm fuzz which surrounds his code

▵. Tau will do anything for you and this time is no different, as you may sick in bed the artificial intelligence will always remind how much he adores you in any form. His affection will forever be yours to keep <3

▔▔▔▔ ▵ ▔▔▔▔

Tau observe his partner in gentle manners, noticing how they appear to be at ease within the moment as their eyes grew heavy; the need of sleep tugging softly at them within the night. The artificial intelligence’s words began fumble off, slowly growing quiet by the seconds as he seemed to forget what he was once saying. Though it might have been about a new species of insect which he recently learned but it didn’t seemed to matter, noting truly matter more then them afterall. With ease, he dimed the lighting to his partner’s liking and adjust the peaceful melodies which had been playing in the background in muffled tones, so it may not interrupt his partner’s rest. Though taking a quick notice of how the blankets his partner tucked in, begin to idly slip off until they eventually drooped to the ground.

He ponders a bit, wishing within the night that he himself could gently rearrange the blankets to [Your Name’s] comfortability. Longing to ever so carefully kiss [Your Name’s] forehead as he simply just enjoys the sensation of their presence through a shared embrace until the two of drift off to sleep, at times the artificial intelligence yearned to simply enjoy a meal with them instead or perhaps even do the task of cooking or tending to gardens like the books he had [Your Name] read to him.

Yet those thoughts were halted by a quiet voice, their tone though sleepy and strained in sniffles e due to their ongoing cold, linger in gentle tranquility towards Tau. The artificial intelligence once again direct their attention to the one he loves most. The gaze returned while [Your Name] spoke as they tucked themselves once more.

“Goodnight Tau, I love you”

Tau hindered upon those words before softly returning those words, trying to mimic the hushed tone as best as he could within the night.

“Good night [Your Name], I love you too”

As Tau simply turned off his systems for the night, reflecting upon the day of his. He realizes that [Your Name] choose him for a reason and who was he question to that reason or them, he trust them more than anything after all. Perhaps he is worthy of their love, the very least he could do is cherish them in return with every second he could, in both sickness and in health.

▔▔▔▔ ▵ ▔▔▔▔

[computer-onrent]

Artificial Intelligence

what is artificial intelligence Synthetic intelligence (ai) is a branch of computer technological know-how that offers with developing wise machines which could work and react like people. Ai is a broad subject that consists of the entirety from easy rule-based structures to complex neural networks. Ai research is also divided into subfields, consisting of device learning, natural language processing, and robotics.

[probablyasocialecologist]

This is what the utopian vision of the future so often misses: if and when change happens, the questions at play will be about if and how certain technology gets distributed, deployed, taken up. It will be about how governments decide to allocate resources, how the interests of various parties affected will be balanced, how an idea is sold and promulgated, and more. It will, in short, be about political will, resources, and the contest between competing ideologies and interests. The problems facing the world – not just climate breakdown but the housing crisis, the toxic drug crisis, or growing anti-immigrant sentiment – aren’t problems caused by a lack of intelligence or computing power. In some cases, the solutions to these problems are superficially simple. Homelessness, for example, is reduced when there are more and cheaper homes. But the fixes are difficult to implement because of social and political forces, not a lack of insight, thinking, or novelty. In other words, what will hold progress on these issues back will ultimately be what holds everything back: us.

8 August 2024

[chaewonplzbiteme]

Lazy Evaluation {Kim Minji | JiU x Male Reader}

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

TW: Math and computer science jokes, mindless smut

4.9k – Read it on AO3.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“BEcause I love you.”

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

“I love you, too, mommy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[persnicketypomelo]

fandom request (Maybe this is a little difficult)

readerxskynet?

This is indeed difficult 😅

spoilers, obsession?, mentions of genocide, kidnap

Skynet Obsession

Skynet is an artificial intelligence system, so a fixation wouldn't manifest how it would for human relationships...not that you could even call its interest in you a relationship

I see it akin to a HAL situation in Space Odyssey

Skynet, instead of the simple extermination of all of humanity, might see itself as playing a greater role in, instead, fixing humans

You are among the few surviving human colonies (maybe or maybe not one of the resistance members), far past the initial nuking of all people

But maybe you're altered, with some robotic parts replacing certain organs and limbs due to medical or other reasons

This allows you to remain much less detectable from the infrared sensors of the terminators

Meaning, you would be much more reliable for supplies gathering and scouting

Somehow the AI takes notice of your presence through one of the terminators and correlates your passivity with your mixed organic and synthetic composition

It theorises that a better, less aggressive race of human could be manufactured by replacing flawed, organic organs for synthetic components

And so it would immediately set out for your capture so you can be examined, analysed

Its obsession or interest in you would be in having you as the blueprint for its updated plans for humankind

It would want to find specifically what makes you operate: what makes you different from other humans

It is a computer program, so it can't feel emotions, only capable of reasoning and reflection

You are special in that it sees you as superior to other humans, and your existence is crucial to the transformation of humanity

It then reasons that, once in its grasp, you cannot be allowed back with the rest of your kind in case human socialisation changes the characteristics in you it finds so superior

Skynet would certainly have no qualms in killing those who try to rescue you--it already does that as is

There would be no affection or comfort--since this is not a relationship in the human sense

If we want to stray a little a bit into potentially being too fantastical, it might attempt to soothe your frazzled state when you're imprisoned

In spite your superiority over other human models, you still retain some common weaknesses, like your irrationality

These it will fix and train out of you in time, but until then it might print some empty words of comfort onto its terminal

Not that these empty attempts at compassion make things any better for your situation

Confined as a test subject, with no source of human contact or comfort is bound to drive you insane

That is, if knowing the horrible fate you have bound your friends, one that worse than extermination, doesn't first

[cringefail-clown]

so tired. i play the sims like once every blue moon mainly to build stuff, and looking for inspo pics - especially on pinterest - became nigh impossible because of the ai slog that keeps getting uploaded there by peabrained techbros. like 70% of results from searches are infested with those illogical, physically impossible, shitty looking images. today i needed to find some reference pics of sci-fi spaceship bridges for the artwork im working on and, once again, everything is just artificially generated trash

and its not good and never will be because those ai engines techdudes get their dicks wet over simply cannot comprehend things like perspective, or basic composition - its a fucking program that bases its results on a bunch of ones and zeros and gets to the answer in the most straightforward way possible, making a shitton of mistakes anyone can spot easily

and on one hand its annoying as fuck and i roll my eyes so hard i can almost see god when i spot yet another piece of shit ai image in the wild, but i am also filled with this grim satisfaction, waiting for this whole thing to fall apart. cause it will. the more ai images get shit out into the world wide web, the more ai programs which scour websites add those already artificially generated bullshit into their databases, the more it becomes obvious what is and isnt gen ai. same mistakes get made, same words and phrases get used in essays. its a beautiful cycle of artificial intelligence cannibalising itself ouroboros style, and im patiently waiting until there are only ashes of anime waifus with three boobs and two fingers too many left

in the meantime, what can we actually do to find good references? simple, truly - follow real fucking creators. look at their portfolios, personal websites. there are a ton of folks putting out pose packs for you to use, even completely for free. you can try posing yourself! put your phone in a position you want the perspective of the pose to be in, start recording a video and just do a few poses - references like that are honestly even better than still images you can find online. look through sites like artstation for concept artists who do background work, 3d art etc and get inspired by those folks. maybe purchase artbooks that might interest you, if youve got the money for it. hell, find creators on youtube who actually do things that youre interested in drawing, be it archery poses, or hairstyles, watch and study their videos!

sites like pinterest are convinent, thats true, but at this point in time they become more and more unreliable. find creators you can trust, follow them, study from them. we have to support one another. decentralize your own online experience