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#ai in the top
gayvampyr · 1 year
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i don’t know what else to say except that AI art is no longer simply a source of creativity or a wonder of human creation. it has become actively hostile and destructive toward the very thing it pretends to uplift and celebrate. it is void of any human element, any soul or ounce of emotion or self-expression. continuing to use AI art knowing that it comes from theft and robbing artists of their livelihood is disgusting. they need your support now more than ever. stop giving these thieves your money and admiration.
[Image descriptions courtesy of @cryptid-deity: a series of screenshots from Deb JJ Lee’s twitter, @ jdebbiel.
Image 1 is a tweet that reads, “this... this is fucking sad. I don’t know what to do.” Included with the tweet are two images; one is a screenshot from a private text message conversation, the other is a collage of AI generated art that was sent to Lee in the text conversation.
Image 2 is a screenshot of only the text conversation, which shows multiple messages that were sent to Lee. There is a collage of AI art, then a text message that reads, “Sorry to bother you. It looks like someone on an AI subreddit is making a custom model and it reminds me a lot of your work. He isn’t telling anyone where the images are being sourced from.” Following is another collage of AI art, followed by the message, “Here’s another one.” The last message is a link to the subreddit.
Image 3 is another tweet that reads, “Oh so it *was* me,” with the word ‘was’ between asterisks for emphasis. The tweet includes two screenshots from the subreddit.
Image 4 is one of the subreddit screenshots. It is a post that reads, “Dreambooth model release! Say hello to kurzgesagtish!” Under these lines is a Reddit message that reads, “Sorry, this post was deleted by the person who originally posted it.”
Image 5 is the other subreddit screenshot. This post reads, “Results I got with a custom dreambooth model.” This post has the same deletion message as the former.
Image 6 is another tweet by Lee, which reads, “For comparison, here’s my art vs artist. I’m gonna cry.” Included is a collage of 8 works by Lee, which frame a photo of them. They follow up this tweet with another tweet, which reads, “If I see anyone I know using AI Art, they are dead to me.” The tweet includes multiple comparisons between Lee’s original art and an AI generated art piece based on it, judging by the subjects, colors, and lines.
Images 7, 8, and 9 are the examples from Lee’s tweet.
end description.]
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weakzen · 2 years
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lmao adobe/pantone charging a subscription fee for color palettes & replacing those colors with black on old pieces of artwork if you don’t pay up
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bixels · 3 months
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Just gonna have to wait and see, right? Just wait and see! Just gotta wait and see! Who knows, we'll just have to wait and see! It's anybody's guess, we'll just have to wait and see! The future is exciting, we just gotta wait and see!
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endlessfandomverse · 1 year
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i hate you ai art i hate people who blindly support it because “funny” i hate people acting like putting a prompt into a machine is the same as the artistic process i hate you ai algorithms that blatantly steal artist work i hate the devaluation of actual artist hhh i hate it
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genpromptart · 2 months
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octuscle · 2 months
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Hey there! I'm having a debate with my roommate and wondering if you can help settle it. He says that if you gave someone the body of a jock, without any mental changes, they'll eventually start acting like a jock anyway. I don't think that's true. Just because you have muscles and look like a jock doesn't mean you'll start acting like one, right? We were thinking of trying to set up an experiment for our honor's thesis and wanted your input, thanks!
Are you really sure you want to go through with it? We are happy to do it. I'll create a preset for you that only changes your body. But really. 1.90 m tall. 140 kg of pure muscle mass. But everything else stays the same. To be honest, you don't look like you're ready for it. But it's up to you. I can only recommend that you are in a safe and, above all, unobserved place when you activate the preset.
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You take a deep breath. You stand naked in the middle of your room. Next to you, you have laid out a pair of tracksuit bottoms, a tank top, a jockstrap, a pair of socks and a pair of sneakers. You can only hope that the clothes will fit your new self. 3. 2. 1. enter!
Wow! Holy shit! Now that was quick and without a transition. You look down at the floor from a slightly greater height. And when you look down, all you see are pecs. Fucking huge pecs. You need a mirror. Phew! Very slowly! The new body works a little differently than the old one… Your center of gravity is much higher up. You stand in front of the mirror. This no longer has anything to do with you. It's more Greek demigod than human. Your cock is getting hard. A huge cock that fits this huge body. You never wank. Especially not in the middle of your room. But now you have to. Not for long. And a huge load lands on the mirror and the floor. Yes, I've changed a few details apart from the height and muscle mass. You've already noticed one thing. You'll notice the others too.
You're convinced that the new body won't change anything. So you act as you always have. First of all, you clean up the mess. You are manically clean and tidy. Then you put on your clothes. The shoes are a bit tight, but otherwise everything fits pretty well. So off you go to the library. After all, your honors thesis isn't going to write itself.
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Iris and Rita at the information desk didn't recognize you when you greeted them. They looked at you as if you were an alien when you wished them a good morning. You sat down at your regular place in the library. You like routines. You started working on your thesis outline when Vincent came over. Vincent always sits three tables behind you. Nice guy, similarly obsessive as you. He clears his throat and says that you can't sit here, the seat is taken. Actually, you should have said something along the lines of "Vincent, don't you recognize me, it's me!". But somehow you can't help it. You have to try it out. You cross your muscular arms behind your head, look deep into his eyes and just ask who cares. Vincent retreats like a beaten dog. Three minutes later, you have a WhatsApp message: "There's some stupid musclehead sitting in your seat!" You reply that it's okay, you're not on campus for a few days for empirical studies anyway.
But you're not as productive as usual. Your new body is keeping you busier than you thought. It feels so good to tense your muscles. Your hard cock is constantly leaking precum and is always half stiff. Shit, after an hour you have to jerk off. Fuck, you make quite a mess in the toilet. You try to clean everything up with toilet paper. When you come out of the stall, a student is standing at the urinal, looking at you and wanking. Get out of here quickly, you think to yourself.
The incident is definitely worth recording. After all, you've never experienced this before. But it was hot. As you type out your thoughts, your stomach begins to growl. So loud that Vicent hisses "Pssst". It's actually too early for lunch. But the canteen is about to open. So you're one of the first in the queue. You can hardly wait. And you heap heaps of food onto your tray. You're so hungry.
The weather is good, you sit down at a table in the sun and, ignoring all the table manners, you wolf down your food. Suddenly you hear a voice shouting "Hey, guys, there are empty seats here with the big boy!" You look up. A couple of idiots from the football team are standing at your table. "Dude, okay if we join you?" asks one of the guys, who seems to be some kind of leader. "Sure thing," you say with your mouth full, spitting a bit of your chicken across the table. "Cool," he replies, giving you a fist bump, which you return somewhat hesitantly and also a little awkwardly. And before you know it, you're sitting in a cloud of sweat, testosterone and stupid comments.
You start talking to the boys more for scientific reasons. They ask if you're Fresman because they've never seen you before. You say that you're actually studying somewhere else, but you're here to work on your Honor's thesis. The leader spits his Coke across the table. "Fuck, dude! You already have a degree? In what? Lifting iron?" Everyone laughs. Very loudly. You too. It's actually really funny with the boys…
The boys go to the gym after lunch. I wonder if you're coming too. You don't even think about it. You just say that you haven't got anything to change into. Everyone laughs and asks if anyone is interested. So you go along. It's a field study, you think to yourself. You're observing everything very closely. You don't want to attract negative attention. The processes seem very simple. You copy what you see the boys doing. You even enjoy it. You work up a sweat. You forget the time. The others are gone at some point. You're still here. You look in the mirror. Your long, sweaty hair falls across your forehead. Your friends all have much shorter hair. It's also more practical when working out. You look at your watch. Shit!!!!! You have to get your stuff from the library before it closes. Trevor, sitting at the information desk, doesn't recognize you either. It's already very empty when you pack up your things. Vincent is still there, mumbling something about how antisocial it is to occupy a space you're not using. You don't know why you're doing this now. But you go to him very slowly. You press his face into your armpit. And say that you had more important things to do. Shit, Vincent is seriously licking the sweat out of your armpit hair now? Pathetic little fucker, your new friends would say now. You're far too surprised. By you. By him. Slightly disturbed, you go home. You throw yourself on your bed and think about your first day as a jock. You fall asleep.
You are actually a person who is always well prepared. But you are amazed at how little you have prepared for this experiment. You have a combination to wear. It's still sweaty after yesterday's workout. But you don't have anything else. So this morning you're not going to the library, but to the paint shop. Shopping. A pair of sweatshorts, a few tank tops, socks and jockstraps, sneakers. A bit of compression gear for training. You pass a barbershop. There are a couple of guys inside who are obviously no strangers to the gym either. Fuck it, you think. Down with the long hair!
You haven't been in the library this late in a long time. Vincent has blocked your seat for you. With a few protein bars. Cute! He winks at you when you come in. You raise your arm and smell your armpit. Shit, you haven't showered! Fuck… Well, maybe the little prick will like that even more…
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By lunchtime with the boys, you at least want to have logged yesterday and this morning. And you're looking for some literature on the connection between mind and body. Most of it is ancient. Nothing has been published on the subject for a long time. And if there is, it's more about the effect of the state of mind on the body. Less often on the effect of the body on the state of mind. That's obvious, because normally a genius like you doesn't acquire a body overnight…
The lunch break with the boys was cool. The guys are just very chilled, you like that. No highbrow topics. Just sport, fucking and partying. Unfortunately, a lot of football too. You have no idea about that. After lunch, the boys want to throw some balls on the lawn. You have to go to a colloquium later. And Luke said that you should finally replace those nerdy glasses with contact lenses. The visit to the optician was a good excuse not to embarrass yourself at football.
A whole day without going to the gym sucks! That's why you got up early today. You didn't do your thesis assignments yesterday, nor did you get your muscles burning. That has to change. Shit, you're still struggling with your contact lenses. But it looks a thousand times better. You're screaming alpha with every trained muscle fiber. And that's great! You almost feel at home in the gym. And nobody questions your position. In the library, Vincent provides you with everything you need. He fetches books for you and takes them away again. He has also already offered to help you with your work. What a loser! You don't need to order anything in the canteen after just two days. Your extra large portion of extra protein-rich food is prepared especially for you. Twice. You come once when the canteen opens. And once just before it closes. Your body is a machine. And this machine needs fuel. Lots of fuel.
You sit in the library and document the developments of the last few days. It really is only a few days. Reading through the last few lines almost makes you nauseous. Has your body replaced your mind so quickly? You need to get a grip on yourself. You did your Master's with distinction. You're working on your honor's thesis. You have a chance of getting a professorship at your old college. And you suddenly prefer to spend more time in the gym or with the airheads on the football team? You make a plan. Two hours of gym in the morning, two hours break with the bros at lunchtime, two hours of gym in the evening. And in between, focus on your thesis and your studies. It shouldn't be that difficult. You're an intelligent and disciplined man. So let's get going!
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You have made every effort. And you actually come to the conclusion in your thesis that the body of a jock does not automatically lead to the mind of a stupid, arrogant and superficial jock. You have fun with both. Training in the gym and hanging out with the bros. And working scientifically and researching the human psyche. But in a lecture you realize that it's not you who changes, it's your environment that changes you. Since you got this body three weeks ago, no one has spoken to you about your studies. Vincent, who you thought was intellectual through and through, just wants you to let him lick your armpits in the evening. Your bros didn't even ask you what you were studying. And then the day comes when you attend your doctoral supervisor's lecture. Since your transformation, you've only spoken or written on the phone. You sit in the front row. You appreciate your doctoral supervisor for his liberal political views, his rhetorical skills and his incredible knowledge. At the end of his lecture, he looks at you. And asks if the young man, who unfortunately was unable to dress appropriately, understood a word of what he had just said. He assumes you were mistaken in the lecture hall. But if you invest your energy in your biceps and not your brain, that's to be expected.
First you think about whether you are saying anything particularly intelligent. To express your indignation at his insolence. To justify yourself. But then you think about what has been really fun in the last few weeks. And who you really had fun with. And you answer "Nah, professor dude! Dat wuz alot of words n stff u sed. I dnt thnk I need all dat for my degree as a personal trainer. wdut, bro?" You make your pecs dance. The lecture hall laughs. You stand up. Fuck the honor's thesis!
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You started studying sports economics again. You also work as a trainer in a fitness studio. And you have a pretty successful YouTube fitness channel. You recently received a call from your old doctoral supervisor. He read through the draft of your honor's thesis again. It was all very promising. Why did you drop out? You say that you obviously have to choose between brains and brawn at some point. And you're grateful to him for helping you decide. And with that you hang up.
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annabelle--cane · 8 months
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say it with me everybody: personal health is completely immaterial to morality, including mental health. leading a mentally unhealthy lifestyle (or what you perceive as a mentally unhealthy lifestyle) does not a bad person make. no one has to socialize, exercise, have healthy coping mechanisms, or lead (what you perceive as) a fulfilling life with fulfilling hobbies in the same way that no one has to go to the doctor to get a broken bone reset. both of those types of management of personal health are likely to be beneficial to the individual, but they are in no way moral requirements or debts owed to society. they do not actually say anything about a person's principles, personality, or actions towards others. additionally, people know themselves and their own situations better than you do. maybe a person judges that the physical and financial toll of going to the doctor outweigh the benefit of getting their bone reset, maybe a person just does not have the capacity to develop healthy coping mechanisms at this point in their life, and yes, maybe a person feels like they are totally fulfilled by "media based" hobbies alone and would feel no difference in their life if they picked up a loom. just like. let people be sick without accusing them of being representative of the lazy, degenerated state of modern society.
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hollyjumper · 1 month
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habken · 3 months
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If you dont know already, tumblr is planning a cooperation with Midjourney. Nightshade and glaze your illustrations, if you didn`t already !!
I’m so tired man
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mericanasshole83 · 9 months
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gayvampyr · 1 year
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“but without ai how will i be able to make cool art?”
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there are resources. pick up a pencil.
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dryndelicate · 10 days
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Reprise: Leather Chaps & Naked Butts
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chippuyon · 5 months
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sman05leather · 2 months
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Stabble Diffusion AI Generated
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rottingsam · 7 months
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why ai art is bad: it is recycled art from real artists online. it takes multiple pieces of art, photos and other info online created by real people who put time and effort into their work which is what gives it value. ai is not genuine artificial intelligence and therefore cannot come up with anything on its own, only mash up preexisting media. even if it could create something original it takes away all creative value.
why people are posting ai art on tumblr: teehee notes :3
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octuscle · 2 months
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Dear Chronivac Support,
I am a nerd who doesn't get high grades, despite studying a lot my grades are not the best, and my roommate is a smart jock. He's muscular, handsome, well-groomed, and intelligent. I find this an affront to the balance of stereotypes. How can I adjust the Chronivac so that he slowly loses intelligence until he becomes a traditional dumb jock with grades much worse than mine?
We are in the Holy Week… And envy is a mortal sin. You're not seriously asking me to punish your roommate just because he's smarter, more handsome and more charismatic than you are? But we can do something about the fact that you look like a nerd but are more of an intellectual jock! We can equalize that!
When you wake up the next morning, it's somehow no longer your room. There are posters of ice hockey and football players on the walls. There are lots of dirty clothes, pizza boxes and beer cans on the floor. It smells a bit. But it could also be you. A deep breath from your armpit. Yep, you're not entirely innocent of the smell. You didn't shut down your computer last night. The porn site is still open. And you haven't wiped away the wank stains on the keyboard either. You're a bit disgusted with your own place right now. But only for a few moments. Hey, you're young, you're having fun, if the dirt bothers you, clean it up. And your cool flatmate doesn't mind. Even if he's a lot tidier himself.
No clean clothes in your wardrobe again. You could now ask your bruh if he has anything for you. But unfortunately, his clothes wouldn't fit you anyway. You are separated by a few kilograms of pure muscle mass. But if the lectures are boring again, you'll go to the gym and try to catch up with your muscles. And the next lectures will be boring. So you can actually go straight to university in the clothes you want to work out in afterwards.
As you stand in front of the mirror in your smelly, dirty tank top and old, washed-out sweatshorts, you think for a moment about how silly you look. The clothes are two sizes too big for you. And with your nerdy pot haircut, everything looks even worse. You grab one of your flatmate's caps. Much better! And off you go.
Shit, you chose business studies so you wouldn't have to do so much math. It's a hell of a lot of math. The exams are back today. C-. Shit, damn it! You've got so much… Well, to be honest, you haven't studied at all. Even though he's sitting three rows in front of you, you can see your roommate grinning. You can already imagine what kind of grade he got.
You took your bad mood out on the weights. Hehehe, three hours in lectures, four hours in the gym. Good ratio. If only your parents knew. They would certainly cut your monthly allowance. But who's going to tell them?
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When you get home, your flatmate is snoring on the sofa. His exam is on the table. A-. Well, everyone has a bad day. His snoring is contagious. You just manage to make yourself a protein shake and down it. Then a proper protein fart. Yeah, that was a good one! And then you collapse onto the sofa.
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You dream that you are a nerd. But not one of those who have a doctorate in physics after two semesters. One who is clumsy in sports and dumb in math. Someone with just two single hairs on their chest. One with a fluffy, fuzzy beard. And one with no muscles at all. Crazy dream! Although, the part about being dumb at math… That's true!
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