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gaytotaldrama · 6 months

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[Request] Alejandro has to explain to his important diplomat father why he frenched a pineapple on international tv, got kicked in the kiwis (also on international tv), then vanished off the face of the earth for a good year.

also on my ao3!

Practically the second Alejandro emerges from the humiliating send-off that had been the Flush of Shame, his dad's calling him. On a hotel phone. On a hotel phone in Miami, of all the God-forsaken places in the world. It's a testament to the Burromuerto name that it'd been so easy for his father to find him - but where was all that during the year Alejandro's spent inside a robot suit?!

And the reception is horrible, too. Naturalmente.

"So." His father's voice crackles through the line in his usual clipped Spanish, formal and curt. "You're alive, then."

"Well, yes," Alejandro returns, furrowing his brows. "Did you think I was dead?"

A non-committal grunt. "The volcano in Hawaii burnt you to a crisp."

"Yes, but then - "

"Then you failed to win the million dollars. Twice now, if I'm not mistaken."

Alejandro rolls his eyes, thankful his father can't see him do it. "Why should it matter to you? You've got your own money."

"It doesn't. What matters is my own blood soiling the family name on international television for the entire world to see."

"Soil - ? I've been one of Total Drama's most ambitious competitors!" he exclaims, irked at the erasure. "I was the master schemer of the third season! You saw!"

"I didn't watch," his father says, which, oh. Alejandro hadn't been aware of that. It's expected, no doubt about it, but it's different, hearing its confirmation. "Your brothers have kept me updated on all of your shortcomings."

"Oh, have they, now," Alejandro seethes.

"You allowed yourself to become much too cocky. Toying with all the girls' hearts, so certain you'd win. Then you let that little Asian witch outsmart you. Kicking you while your guard was down. What in God's name made you fail that way, Alejandro?"

"Heather is not a witch," he fumes back. "Only I get to call her that. And so what if she won? She didn't get to keep the money, either, not after the eruption."

His father scoffs. "You think that's what matters? No. What matters is the humiliation you've caused us all, Alejandro."

"You already said that," Alejandro deadpans. "If you're going to ruthlessly insult me, at least have the originality not to be repetitive."

"Oh, so you're giving me cheek now, hm?" His father sounds pissed, which is exactly what Alejandro was going for. "Two pathetic stints on a damn reality show where you french kiss a pineapple and you think you're king of the world! Why I ever bothered to have a third son is lost on me, I must admit."

"I've been asking that same question for years."

A snort. "Well, if you think you're welcome at Christmas, you are gravely mistaken!!

"That's what you say," Alejandro points out. "Good luck getting that past Mom." And then he hangs up, jamming the phone back in its charging port, so his father won't have the satisfaction of getting in the last word.

He lays back on the scratchy pillow, folding his arms behind his head and thinking, contemplating, looking up at the mildewy ceiling. He wishes he could say that his father's words stopped hurting him a long time ago, but the hollowness in his heart tells him otherwise. Twenty years of trying to impress the man. Two decades of failure.

His dear mamá will stick up for him, he knows, but even so. It may be a good idea to throw together a different plan for the winter holidays. And also, you know. Find a more permanent place to stay.

An idea strikes, nearly wiping the previous conversation from his brain entirely. He reaches again for the telephone, entering the digits carefully with the calloused pad of his thumb. Smirking, he presses Call. He knew he still remembered Heather's number...

#td #total drama #alejandro burromuerto #my writing #aleheather

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yombleflobber-mobile-emporium · 1 month

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AI Art is Not That Bad

You know, I would love to become a bestselling author.

I would love for even tens of people to read my book, and think it's great. Good, even. A Normal Book. Because "normal" pretty much just means, "real".

And I think a lot of people don't understand what art and writing are about. Maybe I don't, either, but I'm going to lay out why I think I do (at least in this particular discussion about AI).

I want to start by drawing your attention to the fact that I'm a straight white Christian male writing on Tumblr. I disagree with probably most people on here about most of their views. I stick around for two reasons: Tumblr always has felt like the UI is most conducive to my workflow, and I like seeing some of the art that's on here.

I'm a firm believer that society's erasure and ostracization of The Arts is incredibly short-sighted, and our elevation of the STEM fields is practically shameful. I like to wander the halls from time to time without seeing a multitude of comments expressing negativity toward The Arts.

The thing is, this sort of Profit-first mindset is infectious.

That's usually at the heart of STEM versus A; this idea that the only things worth doing are things that will bring you recognition and support you monetarily.

As a side note: As a husband, and a father of two small children, I cannot emphasize enough that there is a definite need for me to support my family financially; my wife presently is a full-time homemaker, and, regardless of who is working [for money], someone needs to. No one is disputing here that Having Money is Important.

To lead back into STEM versus A, however, there is a certain toxic mindset that if your chosen pursuits don't support you/your family, then:

You shouldn't have a family. This is primarily the sort of "A man builds a house, and then invites his wife to come live with him." as though everyone can afford a house, and as though you need to have all your shit together prior to even courting/dating someone.

You shouldn't pursue your passions. This is often bundled with the idea that you shouldn't have a family, as expressed in the sentiment, "Don't marry that guy; he's only an artist [and not a very good one at that]."

And let's be real here; any art worth making is going to take time, and time spent on art is often time spent away from other pursuits. I have a unique position as a night shift guard in that I can write during work hours (or pretty much anything, so long as I can lug it in and it isn't disruptive to my actual paid work). This is kind of a double-edged sword, because I'm not working on my story right now; I'm writing an angry post about AI.

Now, you may be asking at this point why and how this relates to AI. I haven't really addressed it much, except to remind you at odd points that this somehow does relate.

The only reason you care about AI is that you're afraid that it's going to decrease your profits.

You have lost sight of what art is, and why you do it.

You've convinced yourself that people need to pay you for your art, and, since you spent a long time on it, pay you a lot.

You think that your art is yours, and you can dictate how other people use it.

You've convinced yourself that people that make AI art and writing are stealing, and that makes them lesser people than you.

You think that writing a prompt into ChatGPT doesn't make you an artist, or a writer; it makes you a thief.

Why do you paint?

Why do you draw?

Why do you write?

Why do you sculpt?

Would you paint, draw, write, or sculpt if no one ever told you they liked it, or paid you for it?

Hi. I write stories. I got one published, and maybe sometime I will turn a profit. I'm working on a book.

When I finish my book, I am going to copyright it, print several copies of it, and put several of them in Little Free Libraries. That's the plan, anyway. It will probably, all told, cost around $3000. Maybe I'll get that back, maybe not.

Maybe eventually I will find a job where I can write. Maybe I'll get stuck in a job where I have to skulk around with my keyboard and write in the back shadows like the muddy little goblin I am.

I write because I enjoy it, but I also write because I have to. I could just...not write, but part of me would start dying.

So really, I don't give a flying fuck if AI is stealing my writing. It's so peripheral. Why do you care?

If you're concerned that your art is being stolen and repackaged, then get better.

A couple years ago, you were whining because customers didn't want to buy your overpriced bullshit.

Now you're whining because those same customers went somewhere and got what they wanted without you.

If it took you "fucking hours" to make, maybe you need to Streamline Your Operation instead of charging obscene prices for a pretty little paperweight.

You can't just ignore market trends if you're putting your art up for sale on the market. Basic economics tells us that lower prices moves inventory faster, and generates more net income. Basic factory efficiency studies tell us that certain streamlining techniques make more products faster.

Should you do that with oil painting? I dunno, maybe? You're the painter; you figure out what works and what doesn't.

If you're charging money for your art, why aren't you getting the most money you can for the least amount of work? No, seriously. That's not a bad thing. That's EFFICIENCY, and it doesn't mean your art has to suffer.

Let me say that another way:

If you are selling your art, it is a product. If you can afford to spend hours and hours on your art, you can afford to either spend several hours figuring out how to make your art more efficiently, or hire a consultant to work with you to streamline your workspace. Streamlining production simply means taking out impediments to your work.

Typically, removing impediments lessens the time and effort needed to produce the same thing. Not a lesser thing, the same thing.

Look.

The point is, if you're going to call yourself a professional, act like one.

If (and that's a big "IF" when it comes to AI) you are met with opposition, and you sit down and cry like a baby every time, you don't get to call yourself a professional.

A professional knows their craft well enough that, when push comes to shove, they know where they need to be mutable, and where they need to stand their ground.

A professional accepts criticisms from potential customers graciously, and incorporates that into their future work.

A professional looks at trends, analyzes what is causing those trends, and makes adjustments to their business model accordingly if necessary.

A professional does not engage in fearmongering.

A professional does not engage in hate speech.

A professional does not engage in backbiting.

A professional does not produce garbage.

I am, frankly, ashamed to call myself a writer, or an artist, because of some of the insane, asinine things my fellow artists and writers have said with regards to AI.

Beep, boop, I am a bot. This action was performed automatically. I am a meat machine masquerading as a goblin pretending to be a man. This message was generated with the help of some AI chat service (I'm too lazy to look one up, and definitely didn't use AI to write this). If you write gibberish to try to confuse AI, you aren't a writer. No, seriously, that's bullshit, it's lazy, and you have better things to do.

#ai generated #writing #not sponsored

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