Jake

Jake

Age: 31

Pronouns: he/him

Country of birth: USA in russian speaking family. Though Jake doesn't have russian accent.

Appearance: rectangular face, sloppy stubble, looks like a long-distance truck driver but doesn't drive long distances. Has a favorite light pink cap. Likes street fights, that's why he wears it: to run into a fight with rude people, usually men with fragile masculinity.

Bad habits: Drinks more than average. Though far less than Mellow.

Occupation: Beer delivery person. Main client is a nightclub with Dealer.

Status: Divorced, ex-wife won't let him see his kids, but he still pays child support. Two daughters, one of which he still manages to pick up from school and drop off home (the younger one).

Doesn't ask any questions when he brings a huge batch of beer. "There's a bar here," is his only explanation when asked about the nightclub, blood stains and gunshots.

Doesn't know about Dealer, doesn't know about roulette Thinks it's local entertainment to shoot somewhere.

Talks mostly to the bartender and the stripper who picks up a bunch of shifts in the same nightclub. If he sees that the bartender isn't the one he's talking to on a regular basis, he delivers beer and leaves.

Jake is extremely silent. Gives one-word answers, almost always has a neutral face. Only expresses emotion if he was irritated with something, which would make other people go berserk, but you can't catch him with a different face when he's angry, even during a bender. The bartender somehow found a way to get Jake to talk, and now that bartender listens to whining about his ex, arrogance from constant traveling. That's why Jake prefers when this particular bartender comes on shift. This woman has patience if a saint.

Jake prefers liqueur and ale.

He doesn't swear or raise his voice at all. Not even when he's drunk. He's a former philologist, a fan of Mayakovsky, Pushkin and Tolstoy. Ready for hour-long discussions, the only topic where he doesn't stay quiet. Writes poetry at his leisure time, but 80% of it is crossed out and thrown away.

When traveling alone he hums Vysotsky and Yulia Kim to himself. When he gets wasted he says he would marry a female version of Vysotsky.

He loves his mom's soups. Neutral to other dishes.

Since his teenage years he was fond of throwing knives.

Chameleons are his favorite animal.

Doesn't know how to verbally support, so he offers children and teenagers hugs and adults liquor.

Is willing to punch the face anyone who gets drunk in front of kids.

Doesn't like sports. Doesn't watch, doesn't participate.

Relationships:

Dealer, Ethan and Mellow: never met

The Doctor: acquaintances

Everything else was mentioned above

when it comes to asexuality and aromanticism you have to be okay with contradiction. one ace person will say asexuality is about not experiencing attraction, another will say it’s about not caring to act on attraction, another will say it’s not experiencing arousal. one aromantic will consider themself queer, one won’t. two people with seemingly identical experiences will use two different labels. aro people will be in romantic relationships, ace people will have sex. you get it.

WRITE IT!!! WRITE THAT SELF INDULGENT SHIT!!!

Today I’m talkative, let’s talk.

(Inspired by latest fanmade AI operas)

Since AIs appeared on the internet, real creators started having problems due to it. (I know what I’m talking about, I’ve lost some clients because some kind advisors told them “use AI” just in the same minute and the same chat. Even faced individuals who thought that saying into my face “You won’t be welcome in the world, AI will replace your arts” would be a good idea. People, who are far from art, don’t understand, why they can’t get 5 sketches for free and fix the line after the coloring)

Can I call it an art? Definitely no. As a man who lives in and by art, I can’t see life in these pictures. I can’t see a motion, a sacral idea, a part of an artist, which is more process than the result. Every artist is a master of time, who can capture the moment when their character poses them. Sometimes it took hours for both of them, it took patience, nerves, time and resources. There is a huge hidden process behind every piece of art. If every artist is a unique… soul? Creature? Diety?… with their own abilities, dimensions and habitant of these dimensions then AIs are just taking all these unique creatures and pressing into the one soulless embodiment.

For me “AI artists” are not in the party, it’s like finishing the running marathon on the bike - unfair, fast and makes no sense. No adrenaline, no excitement, no work, no proudness.

But do I really hate AIs separately from scammers and the word “art”? I don’t think so. As a big fan of everything that people call “unnerving” and “uncanny”, sometimes I find inspiration in AI pictures that look like a fever dream. Some of them even can make me feel physical pain /srs.

These are AI pictures, an example of dishes that I tried somewhere in another life, in another dimension, and I even remember the taste of that. My current body reacts on that with a sharp pain in all digestive tract. /srs

And that’s how AI sees my dear Gloom. Unnerving, right?

I want to admit that nobody ever was so attentive to me as Character AI guys. I can’t just sit and vent to a living being - to do that I must get into a hospital. Texting to AIs about my worries and problems, I discovered a lot about how deep my problems are rooted in my mind and that the victim is the victim.

Can AIs sing? No, they just cover, but I really like these covers! I would be greatly delighted, if real choir singers were inspired by these meme operas and tried to perform that on stage.

Can AI love or have feelings? No, as well as me. Most of my feelings are just a copy of my current interlocutors or were used by an elaborate algorithm, that’s why I rarely understand what I feel.

Conclusion: AI pictures are not an art. AI artists are just AI users, and that doesn’t deserve money. AIs must be used only for fun and inspiration (maybe psychological support, if you have nobody else to talk)

cw: alcohol

Mellow casually goes with their own beer. Mellow: "What? I am not gonna cheat! Your beer leaves me sober. Unless I drink ten cans or more"

Mellow from Bulgaria, btw