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"What would have become of Hercules if there had been no lion, hydra, stag or boar? No savage criminals to rid the world of? What would he have done in the absence of such challenges? Obviously he would have just rolled over in bed and gone back to sleep. By snoring his life away in luxury and comfort he never would have developed into the mighty Hercules. And what good would it have done him? What would have been the use of those arms, that physique, and that noble soul, without conditions to stir him into action?"
ācoming from a place of respectā there is nothing respectful about a comment like this. this is exactly why I say witch hunt, speculations and accusations harm the writing community as much as ai does, if not more.
I am not saying āyouāre an asshole if you think a fic is aiā. I have come across fics that I believe were ai-generated. but instead of asking (accusing) the authors, I make my own decisions whether Iāll continue reading for the benefit of the doubt or quietly exit the fics and look for something else to read.
because with every accusation like this, thereās always a chance of a genuine, innocent writer getting wrongly accused.
last but not least, fanfic writers do NOT owe you anything. they write for themselves and their own enjoyment. their ao3 accounts are their houses and they were kind enough to let you in their houses. for free. (you get to read things for free.) you donāt go into other peopleās houses and tell them āactually I think the way you decorate your room is sus. did you actually do it yourself or did you ask a robot to do it for you?ā. THEY šš» DONāT šš» OWE šš» YOU šš» ANYTHING. and I say this as someone who is not a fan of ai fics. if you donāt like what youāre seeing, quietly leave.
*the following is not about the fic in this specific post. in general, I still strongly believe people who let ai write for them should tag their works as ai accordingly. but if we want more people to be honest about it, weāll have to stop shaming and harassing people who actually tag their ai-generated fics accordingly. harassment is never justified. not to mention, it will only make āai writersā refrain from tagging their ai-generated works as such. and then thereās no way for anyone to know for absolute certainty if itās ai. therefore the raise of witch hunt.
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āaāmama?ā lucian murmurs, peeking his head into the dark bedroom. you see the glow of his eyes, moonlight bouncing off his pretty red jewels just right to make them shine.
you donāt respond, in fear of scaring him. he doesnāt need to see his mother this wayā sniffling and hiding like a wounded animal. what a terrifying sight for such a little cub.
āmama?ā his whispers get a little louder. you shift in your blankets and quiet your sobs. āmama, is me, woosi.ā
your lungs can only hold so much air after the trauma its endured. bad days at work donāt only involve irritation and disagreement, but harsh beatings from other worldly beings too. wanderers getting one too many hits in, sluggish responses to too quick offenses lead to more painful clock outs.
today was not a good day. days like this werenāt uncommon, but it still twists your heart knowing you could have done better. could have been stronger or faster or smarter. days like this just always sent you into a spiral of not doing enough. of not being enough.
and lucian did not need to see this.
but lucian says, āmama.ā louder now. just by the edge or the bed. āhello?ā
ālucian.ā you finally respond, voice raspy and raw. āgo to papa.ā
he frowns and weighs a thought. ādonāwant papa. want you, mama.ā
āmama, eated?ā he asks, glad to know now that you are awake. āmama, i getāi get nana? for you?ā
āiām okay, my angel.ā you grumble, hiccuping back the cries that are triggered from his clueless compassion. āiām not hungry.ā
āmama sick?ā lucianās voice tilts into something somber and sad. now he tries to grip the duvet and climb the mattress to you. your heart beats like thunder.
āno, lucianāā
he makes his way up the slope, practiced and proficient, and crawls all the way over to you.
biting your lip enough to draw blood, you hide your face in the pillow, only allowing one eye to sight him. ālucian, listen to mama. go to papa.ā
āno,ā he plants himself firmly on the pillow beside your head and pats your clammy forehead. āmama sicky, need medicine.ā
you catch his small fingers in your hand and hold it on his lap. ānot sick, honey. iām okay.ā
heās quiet for a while. the thought too profound to know why, he doesnāt seem to believe you. so he guesses again. āmama, bad day?ā
your sinuses burn. softly, you ask. āwhat?ā
ābad days no good.ā he says. his voice of sympathy sounding all too familiar. he slides himself under the covers and squeezes himself in the space between your chest and the pillows. ābad days make woosi cry. is mama cry?ā
there are weights on the corners of your lips, and smoke behind your eyes. the moonlight, once again, strikes his features so elegantly youād think heaven sent a real angel for such a feeble soul. fresh air to your fumes. a gentle whisper to your silent tantrum.
the next sharp inhale you cannot hide, and in its trembling exhale lucianās question is answered.
āiām sorry, mamaās justā¦ā you canāt explain. a bad day is true, but somehow it is not enough to encompass it all. and in his humble persistence, it feels like he deserves to know nothing short of that.
his hand, smelling of blueberries and milk, comes up to caress your hair. and his cheek falls onto the pillow before your one peeking eye. āsāokay, mama.ā
āmamaās just very tired.ā you whisper, turning your face to him. āand being tired makes me sad.ā
āsad okay.ā he says, wise beyond his years. you donāt have the time to wonder how. āsad now-mal like happy. sad isāis opposite!
āsad imā¦im-pow-tant too.ā
he sounds so proud of himself for remembering. your fingers curl around his again and you kiss his palm. āyes, youāre right.ā you take a breath. āmama is sorry for crying.ā
āpapa say no sorry for cryin.ā lucian whispers to you like a secret. āpapa say cryin is good, and cryin okay. helpingā helping, uh, sad go out body.ā
you smile. āhe said that?ā
āa-huh,ā he snuggles closer. āand huggies help too.ā
finally, like a bloom in spring, you uncurl yourself from your ball and wind your arms around the little body that has come to save you. āokay. letās test that.ā
his bell-like giggles are almost enough to flip your mood entirely when he is tickled by your closeness. never mind the ache in your ribs or the twinge in your neck; this pain is outmatched by the weight of your loving boy in your arms.
āyay,ā he murmurs quietly when your sobs turn to small giggles. āi helping.ā
you sigh, deep and freeing. āyou are, my angel. i needed this, thank you.ā
he shuts his eyes, and takes in a breath. āand woosi needy mama.ā
the world shifts. tilts back from its skewed axis into its rightful place. all thanks to a child, so strong to have lifted the weight of it, to remind you that you will always be enough.
so essentially thereās this cool horse drawn into the hills in england made out of chalk and itās like 3,000 years old.
people carved trenches 3,000 years ago and filled them with chalk in the shape of a horse but whatās interesting is that if you fail to maintain the horse by adding new chalk regularly, it will disappear. for 3,000 years, weāve been filling in chalk in this horse so it doesnāt disappear.
weāll never know what the purpose of the horse was originally. weāll never know if it had ritual or spiritual significance or if it was just art. but we do know that people maintained it then, and, even though the meaning of the horse has long been lost to time, we continue to maintain it now.
the people who made this horse are long dead, but they live through us still, donāt you think?
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I will never let AI touch my art, even as it becomes more and more prevalent in todayās society. I like to think that every part of the process, from coming up with the ideas to handwriting all the words, is special because itās coming from me. I put my whole heart into my art, and I hope that it shows!
In this AI dystopia, your favorite artists need you more than ever! Join their Patreons, buy from their online stores, like or engage with their art on social media. Letās uplift human artists over AI that continues to profit off of the backs of millions of artists that it stole from.
first day as a second century warlord i have my men tie branches to their horsesā tails to stir up dust and make it look like thereās a lot of us but i forget it just rained so there isnāt any dust and the enemy can clearly see thereās like twenty of us all spread out in a line
second day as a second century warlord i bribe a bunch of kids to start singing a nursery rhyme i carefully crafted to spread misinformation and further my strategic ends but they change the lyrics to be about poop and the enemy isnāt misdirected at all
third day as a second century warlord i lure my enemy into a narrow valley and send a team of archers to shoot them from the high ground but there was a feral hog napping on the trail up to the overlook and they couldnāt decide whether to try and shoot it or just go around and by the time the hog woke up and left on its own the enemy had already passed safely below
fourth day as a second century warlord we attempt to join a battle on the side of the guy we want to ally with but he and the guy heās fighting have really similar names and itās finally dusty and i misread the standards and attack the wrong guy. so now weāre stuck with this total loser of a liege lord, because how the fuck do you explain that after a battle?
fifth day as a second century warlord and some sort of wizard wanders into camp, my loser liege lord wants to execute him for being a wizard but i convince him to let the wizard stay, because i want to do more weather-based strategies and iām pretty sure having a camp wizard can help with that. after the welcome to the team banquet the wizard steals half the treasury and my liege lordās wife and leaves
sixth day as a second century warlord my loser liege lord sends me to reinforce a city heās taken, but in the confusion of leaving i forgot to take the token that would have gotten us into the city, so my men have to wait outside the city walls for like eight hours while i ride back to get it
seventh day as a second century warlord and my loser liege lord finally joins me in the city, it turns out heās actually a pretty cool guy, and he isnāt even that mad at me for letting the wizard steal his wife. i decide to shoot my shot but iām really nervous and keep on stalling because what if i mess up our relationship and by extension jeopardize the security of my men, and eventually he just says goodnight and goes back to his room, where an assassin is in the process of setting up to kill him
eighth day as a second century warlord and my loser liege lord tells me to fake defect to his rival warlord, the one i originally wanted to ally with, to find out if he was the one who sent the assassin and why. but my whole way over to the rival warlord iām worried that this has something to do with the wizard thing or how awkward i made it last night
ninth day as a second century warlord i try to tactfully ask my fake liege lord if he sent the assassin to kill my loser liege lord and it turns out the idea of using assassins never occurred to him, but now that iāve suggested it heās really into it. in order to save my loser liege lord i volunteer to be the one to kill him
tenth day as a second century warlord on my way back to my loser liege lordās city i realize i wonāt be able to collect my men from my fake liege lord until i bring back my loser liege lordās head. this would have been a great thing to think of before i got myself in this situation. i go back to my loser liege lord and ask him to rescue my men, and he tells me that if he could sack my fake liege lordās camp he already would have. that doesnāt change the fact that my men are still trapped. theyāre prisoners, even. i go back to my room to sulk
eleventh day as a second century warlord i find a little caged pigeon in the rafters of my loser liege lordās room and deduce it belonged to the assassin. without asking permission or telling my loser liege lord goodbye i let the pigeon loose and follow it north. donāt ask what i was doing in my loser liege lordās room. itās not important
twelfth day as a second century warlord i disguise myself as a wizard and enter the camp of the coalition leader the pigeon led me to. in the middle of my little sleight of hand performance i make eye contact with the coalition leaderās second-in-command. ITāS THE WIZARD THAT STOLE MY LOSER LIEGE LORDāS WIFE. after the banquet i corner the fake wizard and ask him what the fuck is going on and he just says āwouldnāt you like to knowā and leaves. i donāt know what to say to that so i just let him go
thirteenth day as a second century warlord iām honestly so sick of not knowing whatās going on, so i adjust my wizard costume to passably disguise myself as a woman and break into the womenās area of the camp, where sure enough my loser liege lordās wife is. i ask her what sheās doing here and she tells me the fake wizard overheard her singing a poem she overheard on the street, not knowing it contains the coalition leaderās formationās weaknesses. the fake wizard kidnapped her and assigned an assassin to kill her husband before they figured out the poemās significance. she shares the first couplet with me but iām discovered and thrown out before she can share any more. she doesnāt need to. through a bizarre coincidence of homophones, itās the poop version of my misinformation nursery rhyme
fourteenth day as a second century warlord i go back to my loser liege lord and tell him everything, urging him to join with my fake liege lord to attack the coalition leader according to the weaknesses in the nursery rhyme. he tells me frankly that he doesnāt trust me anymore. i ask him to execute me if thatās really true, because i canāt bear to live if i canāt protect him and i canāt protect my men. he agrees to attack the coalition leader
fifteenth day as a second century warlord. due to the information in the nursery rhyme, and thanks to my loser liege lord reminding me of the weather conditions multiple times while planning our battle strategy, our alliance carries the day. my loser liege lord gets his wife back. my men tell me that our fake liege lord actually treated them really well and theyād like to stay with him if i donāt mind. i do mind, now that neither the men i love nor the man i love have any use for me, but i donāt tell them that
sixteenth day as a second century warlord iām preparing to leave to i donāt know where, maybe to try to become a wizard for real, when my loser liege lord stops me and asks me where iām going. he says he had hoped i would continue to work as his advisor. i was unaware i was his advisor in the first place. i agree, and he tells me heās truly honored to have me in his service at last. he has known i am a rare and talented man with a strategic intelligence far above his ever since the day he witnessed me tying branches to my horsesā tails in six inches of mud, and could not for the life of him figure out why
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