I'm having this conversation with a friend about fandom and I thought it might not hurt to put a reminder out into the world:
Fandom is a two-way street. At one end, you have the creative types: writers, artists, vid makers (a dying art these days), the meta-commentary-writers. At the other end of the street, the folks who read and view and take in. Not everyone in a fandom creates and that's OK. You can just enjoy the fandom.
Ideally, the two feed off of each other. The creatives make their things; the readers/appreciators/enjoyers respond to let the creatives know that their work is being read/appreciated/admired.
But if the readers/appreciators/admirers go silent? If all they do is consume, without commenting or responding or even so much as hitting that "like" button? Well, the creatives are going to stop creating.
If you treat your creatives like nothing more than content creators, without letting them know that you love the things they make, they will disappear. They'll stop creating. Because as good as it feels to write that fic or draw that art or whatever, we don't exist in a vacuum. Fandom is at its heart a community. And if you stop feeding creatives, well. They starve. The creative works you claim to love will stop appearing.
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Love you Kepler's most nonchalant prophet of death <33
Image description:
A digital illustration of Indrid Cold from The Adventure Zone : Amnesty. He's a man with light brown skin and white hair with black streaks, and is wearing a black coat with a white, fluffy trim over a light grey vest and dark red jeans, as well as his iconic pair of red circular glasses. He's leaning against a payphone and looking of to the side. There are a series of yellow speech bubbles that read "Hello, Duck. In three minutes, your friend Leo Tarkesian is going to die. He will be crushed to death, as will the two customers currently shopping in his store. You might want to do something about that."
The rest of the background is an undersaturated red.
[End ID]
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I'm seeing some frustration over fandom creatives expressing anger or distress over people feeding their work into ChatGPT. I'm not responding to OP directly because I don't want to derail their post (their intent was to provide perspective on how these models actually work, and reduce undue panic, which is all coming from a good place!), but reassurances that the addition of our work will have a negligible impact on the model (which is true at this point) does kind of miss the point? Speaking for myself, my distress is less about the practical ramifications of feeding my fic into ChatGPT, and more about the principle of someone taking my work and deliberately adding it to the dataset.
Like, I fully realize that my work is a drop in the bucket of ChatGPT's several-billion-token training set! It will not make a demonstrable practical difference in the output of the model! That doesn't change the fact that I do not want my work to be part of the set of data that the ChatGPT devs use for training.
According to their FAQ, ChatGPT can and will use user input to train itself. The terms and conditions explicitly state that they save your chats to help train and improve their models. (You can opt-out, but sharing is the default.) So if you're feeding a fic into ChatGPT, unless you've explicitly opted out, you are handing it to the ChatGPT team and giving them permission to use it for training, whether or not that was your intent.
Now, will one fic make a demonstrable difference in the output of the model? No! But as the person who spent a year and a handful of months laboring over my fic, it makes a difference to me whether my fic, specifically, is being used in the dataset. If authors are allowed to have a problem with the ChatGPT devs for scraping millions of fics without permission, they're also allowed to have a problem with folks handing their individual fics over via the chat interface.
I do want to add that if you've done this to a fic, please don't take this as me being upset with you personally! Folks are still learning new information and puzzling out what "good" vs. "bad" use is, from an ethical standpoint. (Heck, my own perspective on this is deeply based on my own subjective feelings!) And we certainly shouldn't act like one person feeding a fic into ChatGPT has the same practical negative impact, on a broad societal scale, as a team using a web crawler to scrape five billion pieces of artwork for Stable Diffusion.
The point is that fundamentally, an ethical dataset should be obtained with the consent of those providing the data. Just because it's normalized for our data to be scraped without consent doesn't make it ethical, and this is why ChatGPT gives users the option to not share data— there is actually a standardized way (robots.txt) for website servers to set policies for how bots/crawlers can interact with them, for exactly this reason— and I think fandom artists and authors are well within their rights to express a desire for opting out to be the socially-respected default within the fandom community.
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Anyways on Twitter I made a thread of Black hairstyles x each Trigun character, and asked who the crowd wanted me to draw for black history month. So here’s four req I picked at random!
Happy Belated BHM!😭
(Source thread under cut)
If you want the original thread that includes, almost everyone it’s here and admittedly it’s kinda bomb! (TriMax Knives was my favourite hc, I will draw him of my own accord soon)
https://x.com/b0tsbby/status/1757469800375136535?s=46&t=B4reFP0FnOly1tkmPhVHew
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you wanted to be a good friend, because you loved your friends, but the truth was that everyone else somehow had a pamphlet on being normal that you never received. most of the time you learn by trial-and-error. you are terrified of the next big mistake you make, because it seems like the rules are completely arbitrary.
you've learned to keep the prickly parts of your personality in a stormcloud under your bed - as if they're a second version of you; one that will make your friends hate you. it feels feral, burning, ugly.
instead, you have assembled habits based on the statistical likelihood of pleasing others. you're a good listener, which is to say - if you do speak up, you might end up saying the wrong thing and scaring off someone, but people tend to like someone-who-listens. or you've got no true desires or goals, because people like it when you're passive, mutable. you're "not easy to fluster" which is to say - your emotions are fundamentally uninteresting to others around you; so you've learned to control them to a degree that you can no longer really feel them happening.
you have long suspected something is wrong with you, but most of the time, googling doesn't help. you are so-used to helping-yourself, alone and with no handbook. the reek of your real self feels more like a horrible joke - you wake up, and, despite all your preparations, suddenly the whole house is full of smoke. the real you is someone waiting to ruin your other-life, the one where you're normal and happy. the real-self is unpredictable, angry.
your real self snarls when people infantilize the whole situation. because if you were really suffering, everyone seems to think you'd be completely unable to cope. but you already learned the rules, so you do know how to cope, and you have fucking been coping. it's not black-and-white. it's not that you are healed during the other times - it's just that you're able to fucking try. and honestly, whenever you show symptoms, it's a really fucking bad sign.
because the symptoms you have are ugly and unmanageable for others. your symptoms aren't waifish white girl things. they're annoying and complicated. they will be the subject of so many pretentious instagram reels. if they cared about you, they'd just show up on time. you care, a lot, so deeply it burns you. you like to picture a world where the comments read if they loved you, they'd never need glasses to see. but since that's a rule you've seen repeated - "one must never be late or you are a bad friend" - you constantly worry about being late and leave agonizingly early. there are no words for how you feel when you're still late; no matter how hard you were trying.
so you have to make up for it. you have to make up for that little horrible real you that you keep locked in a cabinet. you are bad at answering emails so every project you make has to be perfect. you are weird and sensitive so you have to learn to be funny and interesting. you are an inconvenience to others, so you become as smooth as possible, buffing out all the rough parts.
all this. all this. so people can pass their hands over you and just tell you just the once -how good you are. you're a good friend. you're loveable.
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