Jashtober Day 2

@piereoglyphics hmm OK! Just this once, I'll give advantage for being Mind coded

Oooh close one! With advantage that's a 19 - that almost went a lot worse....

Why is all transfem representation in video games 😭. Madeline, Bridget, and now Vivian. Don't get me wrong, I love them, but sometimes I don't want to pay money and play a whole game for representation... still love them all, though. <3

Jashtober day 10: Apathy (TW: intense at points)

How dare he. After all I’ve done for this vessel. He calls me a madman and dares to shoot at me in the same breath. I should kill him. I should strangle him on the spot. I can only wish I had nerves in these mechanical arms, so I could feel the warmth leave his neck… No, no. I must calm down. My absolution has no room for such emotions. If I kill him I have no idea what could happen. It could be killing us all for all I know. Even if we didn’t die on the spot, soul would never forgive me. Harmonia would never be impossible. If only heart had such foresight. Doesn’t matter. He missed completely. Not even close. Perhaps that fit of rage where I dislocated his eyes, wasn’t all bad. Luckily, I’ve had the perfect plan to quell this entropy, dissonance, and violence. Utter, holy, and just. Perfect apathy. My plan just needed a place to put heart and it looks like he dug a perfect little prison. A hole made for me. The irony is delicious. After that murder attempt, soul isn’t very happy with heart. It’s the perfect situation for me to make my move. I already see the throne and how wonderfully built for me it is. I hope he rots in that hole. I hope he feels the hate we all feel for him. He has kept us from perfection. A soul so complete and absolute. It only makes sense for a being made to make perfect, logical decisions to rule. I will stop this stalling, that demon has caused. He thinks of me as Hyde? Fine, I’ll give him hell. I’ll take control away and become the one in power. He has taken everything from me. My voice, my hands, the kingdom which is rightfully mine, and he still feels that is not enough and tries to take my life. I won’t take his voice, I know it’ll hurt him much more to know that no one is listening to his ridiculous songs. I’ll make him wish he was dead. I’ll make him wish he had turned that gun on himself. I’ll make him wish for the same apathy afforded to me and soul. 

Jashtober day 6: Forest

This is hopeless. I can’t seem to make my way out of this endless foliage. This unbearable weather beats upon my soft and fragile skin. My flesh can only take so much more of this punishment. From heat to cold during days and nights. Why does the closer I get to freedom make the perils feel even more present? This forest continues to mock me with its deceptively pleasant streaks. Some days and even full weeks, all I see is blue skies and chirping birds. Finding food is as simple as turning the next right. Those days are wonderful then I get snapped back into the cacophonous reality I’m stuck with. Sometimes it's a lighter pull into actuality, like a simple squirrel attack or not having no food for a day. Other times the corporeal truth of my existence is revealed to me more violently. Maybe a lightning storm or a less than kind bear encounter. When I was left in this worldly hellscape I was given just three things. A hunter knife, an all but entirely useless compass, and a lighter. I dared not use it up to this point. This place was littered with dry dead scenery. Even after the countless rain storms the surrounding area seemed to instantaneously dry back up after it was finished. Paired that with the distinct lack of any sort of rocks even after this endless wandering searching. If I ever dared to light a fire I risk setting this whole forest ablaze. Yet, as my apathy grows I consider lighting it up purposely more and more. Perhaps, then I can turn this metaphorical hell into a more literal one. But my selfishness hasn’t quite grown to that level, yet. 

wow more writing practice this time about my dislike for AI

One thing I’ve had to grapple with during this surgence of AI is that not everyone wants to be an artist or creative. I’ve always just assumed people take other jobs to sustain themselves, but truly many if not most people don’t want to do something creative with their life or leave any sort of lasting impact. Most people just want to enjoy life to the fullest or at the very least just survive. My understanding as art being the ultimate dream is my own experiences clouding my judgment. Despite this art still defines our culture an insane amount along with being a representation of the times. As silly as it is to say stuff like “Seinfeld” reveals us a look into 90s culture just as a more seriously taken art piece like the “Merchant of Venice” can give us a look into the late 1500’s/early 1600’s. Most importantly to me it’s an expression and a look into a part of the human experience. AI is more or less a pattern machine. It takes what it's been fed and finds patterns to make something ““new””. There is no motivation behind what it’s doing. No need to scratch a creative itch or want to share and express one's life. It does what it does because it was told to. With this realization it not only delegitimizes the point of art but also shows that in the end these soul crushing recent events comes not from the AI but still the greed of the richest amongst us (I swear to god if I get one comment about that stupid game)  and the misunderstanding of art by business people. Even if AI art was just as good as a lot of human art, it is not, it still betrays the very core of what art is. Despite what the CEOs of the biggest media companies may think, art is not just entertainment but an important part of the human condition. Of course for the many creatives in every corner of the world but also for everyone in between. More than likely you’ve seen a piece of art that's connected with you. It’s shown a part of you or your experiences that you may have not been able to explain or maybe it’s made you feel for someone in the story evil or good, personal or universal. Isn't that kind of amazing. That us humans’ empathy sense is so strong that even to a character we know isn’t real we can still have an emotional reaction as big as crying or laughing or tensing up or whatever. AI has none of this. It is not a being capable of emotion, free will, or expression. We can not allow these old greed bags to take more from us than they already have. We can not have tech bros decide our culture. We can not have the representation of our culture be made by an emotionless, moralless, and uncreative being incapable of moving things forward. Only by taking the old and rehashing just enough to seem distinct enough. Some may say that humans themselves have no originality but I disagree with our distinct ways of taking old formats and archetypes, then mixing, adapting, and changing the very foundation of the original work. We are not a pattern machine but a remixing artists that take many different ideas and motifs, add a bit of our own likes and experiences and make something wholly distinct from its inspirations. Don't let any billionaire tech bro tell you differently.

Literally me

To anyone who knows me, I'm sure I sound absurd

But I'm an egoistic queer under any definition of the word

I got one of my friends to match with me in Discord. Him as mind and me as heart, and I've never been happier

Even more of this guy. Probably the last I'll do of him for a little bit

The being was larger than most skyscrapers. Its teeth usually were soaking red with blood but were currently dry, showing the yellowing of the fangs underneath. The lack of blood may at first seem calming to the unknowing but all residents of hell knew this meant it was looking for something, or perhaps more accurately, someone to re-wet its teeth. The large lizard-like eyes decorating its head were looking back and forth for any sign of something that drips red when pricked. Soon it saw a small humanoid shape coming towards its domain. It contorted its body getting ready to pounce, before realizing the being it was so excited to gauge was none other than head honcho of hell, Lucifer Paradiso. As Lucifer came closer the thing’s disappointment turned to fear as the king of the damned's details became clearer. While Lucifer was usually someone to not be afraid of with his calm, charming, and honestly sometimes a little pathetic demeanor, today was clearly different. His thick eye-brows were lowered, his arms swung violently by his side, and every step he took left a little crater. Even worse than that was his outfit and the object grasped tightly in his hand. He was wearing a suit, he never wore a suit, and was holding a bouquet of once nice looking flowers that were all wilting now. The only thing scarier than the hulking beast with bloody teeth was the same beast but with yellowed teeth. The only thing scarier than that was a pissed off Lucifer and the only thing scarier than that is a pissed off Lucifer after a bad date. The thing quickly dashed out of the way even though he was still a good two miles away. Lucifer finally got home not 10 minutes later. The man was definitely quick for all his flaws.

He angrily opened the door, slammed it shut, and fell on the couch sobbing. Faust could hear the whining from his quarters but pretended he didn't hear it. For the first decade working the soul contract for Lucifer, Faust couldn’t help but feel bad for his master, that was long ago now. Lucifer’s cries nowadays dug up more anger from his heart than compassion. This was the third date this month that ended poorly. Faust wished he could tell Lucifer maybe there was a reason for his consistent failing but he knew that it was best to bite his forked tongue. “FAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUSSSSST.” the voice of hell rang out through the house. Well no more avoiding it Faust thought. When he arrived at the living room he could hear Lucifer mumbling to himself in between sobs. The strong gruff voice no longer felt as authoritative as it was most hours of the day, yet it still felt like he had a level of charm in its sadness which weirdly annoyed Faust quite a lot. Faust could smell expensive wine on his master’s breath as well as blood but that wasn’t unusual for dates in the underworld. “Faaauuusst, bring me the emergency stuff.” by emergency stuff he meant the cookie dough ice cream stuffed in the freezer. Many found his little substitute words cute, for Faust it drove him insane. The only thing that gave Faust joy in this infernal job is apparently God was also annoyed by little things like that and ripped into Lucifer often. Though apparently the other angels defended Lucifer from these attacks, Faust took what he needed in short time. 21.2 seconds from living room to kitchen, new record Faust thought to himself. He handed over the tub and a spoon. He didn’t even bother to get a bowl knowing it was a fruitless offer. In the time it took for him to get the ice cream Lucifer had managed to turn on one of his comfort movies. It was one of hallmark fame. Lucifer both liked to quietly make fun of the film while also clearly becoming deeply invested in the love story. In the early years Faust found the movies slightly annoying if not charming in its own little way. Now in these years he found them unbearable. If he could scream through them he would but that would just get him in trouble. Lucifer was cuddling in a large, fluffy, glowing white blanket decorated with red pentagram stars that seemed to drip and move as the damned king cuddled into himself. Within the little blanket hole he was holding a little three-headed dog plush. Some days Faust wanted to burn that dog, actually scratch that, most days Faust wanted to burn that dog. Faust handed him the ice cream. He grabbed it quickly and tightened the blanket around him. Faust tried to leave, walking in long quick strokes, but before he could leave the gruff voice spoke sadly. “Faust, if you weren’t bound to me through your soul contract, would you leave?” Faust thought the answer of “God, no” would be the first to shoot to his head, but it took him a second of pondering to think of any answer at all. “No, sir. Now enjoy your movie and please sober up.” Faust quickly exited himself from the situation before slowly walking to his room and quietly closing the door.

That's when you bust out, "word" synonym, on Google

Jashtober day 4: light

What counts as glorious holy light? Is it the beams from the sun that power all life that inhabit this little blue and green marble, or is it the fluorescent light that brightens the churches. Is it the light that comes from within or is the power we gain from what others give us? Can one’s inner radiance from the tireless working of a greater goal or is it true that no person is an island, and the illumination will only be achieved through the movement of the community. Of course, there is an irony to me asking if it’s one or the other. Such a black and white world view. Every possible color and shade is shown by the light. Every blue, pink, and gold. Every black, white, and gray. Every fire yet to be burnt. Perhaps there is no ultimate glory light. Perhaps as I have thought many times before these zealots are as in the dark as the rest of us. And most importantly, perhaps that doesn’t matter. Every step that I take will land whether I have light or not. I can not rely upon anyone’s source of truth. I must find my own. No matter how many moon sets and sun rises it takes.