My brother in Christ, if I steal all of your writings and art when you’re not looking, chop them up, eat them, and shit them out, they are still your creations-- just now covered in shit, garbled up, and without your original thoughts and intentions put behind them. If I then sell the pile of shit to someone, I am profiting from your labor.
I would be less inclined to hate this if I got some form of royalty or even some form of compensation for the hours and hours I’ve spent planning, creating, editing, and studying to make my things.