𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰

On Friendship.

— flowers as hair accessories 💐

Hey, (not so) casual reminder that generative AI has no place in fandom spaces, and I mean any generative AI use.

The “level” with which genAI is used, whether by an individual or a company, does things to this planet regardless. Scale does not matter.

Every prompt you put into genAI uses an amount of fresh water that, once evaporated, will never exist on this planet again.

Here are some resources for education yourself and others on the environment aspects of genAI usage, mostly centered toward the power consumption and data center impact.

Link

I think it’s also important to note that genAI not only impact the environment, but also creative communities. Writers and artists have their work stolen daily to train genAI models, and those models spit out their work in a predictive manner.

Generative AI predicts the most likely results of whatever prompt you give it based off of material it has been fed—this is plagiarism, plain and simple.

If you are curious about fandom aspects of genAI specifically, I’d like to point you in the direction of this article by rolling stone: link

One of the individuals interviewed for this article, Elle, made a Reddit post about a commenter on ao3, and how they’d been feeding her work into ChatGPT in order to “get the next chapters earlier.” Here is the link to Elle’s original post: link

Please be aware that your use of generative AI, in any capacity, contributes to the things listed above, as well as the encouragement and normalization of mass plagiarism in our communities.

Do not be shocked or surprised when people in this space choose to turn their backs on you, block you, or oust you when they find out you participate in its use.

If I found out any piece of writing I’d created had been fed to genAI, through a roleplay bot or otherwise, I’d not only be devastated, but disgusted. I’d leave fandom spaces because of it. It’s not fun, and it’s not quirky.

枝垂桜 // Weeping cherry blossoms

Spring '25 💐

Good Girl and Other Yearnings, Isabelle Correa

Red tulips <3

Me *unprovoked at any time of the day*: YOU KILLED MY SHEEP ??? MY FAVOURITE SHEEP! WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO DEAL A PAIN SO DEEP? DON'T YOU KNOW THE PAIN YOU SOW IS THE PAIN YOU REAP????

“As no science explains adequately how dreams work, no one can explain how a poem works. Where is a dream, sure, but where is a poem? I believe somewhat in Williams’ formulation that a poem is a machine made out of words, but, finally, the poem isn’t where the words are. The poem is somewhere between the words and the reader, or it is the words taken into the reader, who exists within the general society and its history. You enter the poem when you open to its page or remember it, having memorized it, but it is a much larger world than the page. It is transformed when you say it out loud; and it changes from reading to reading—you, the reader, change it, for one thing, as you change—or is it that it changes for you? If you are reading a poem by Catullus, you are in no way the same as an ancient Roman reading it: you are not that person—that kind of person, though it is that poem, as those words. But even if you know Latin, you don’t “speak Latin,” and you haven’t much feeling for what it was like to be a Roman. A poem, like a dream, has an odd relation to time: it is in time, like a poem by Catullus, but it is timeless, as an object made out of words. A dream lasts a moment but endures as a memory might: but it didn’t really happen. A memory can be backed-up, but no outside observer can find the particulars of a dream in time and space (evidence of REM or whatever isn’t evidence of what happened in your dream). A poem didn’t or doesn’t happen, it’s a still group of words on a page; and a story doesn’t really happen either. We say that dreams, poems, and stories occur in the imagination, or the psyche, or whatever word we’re using right now, to invent another entity that doesn’t concretely exist to put them in. But doesn’t the “real world” exist in some collective category like that? All we do is dream; we live in poems and stories we invent.”

— Alice Notley on Writing from Dreams ‹ Literary Hub