Stuck in the Fandoms
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you gotta include this photo
ağlıycam
This is it. The internet has come full circle. You can all go home now. We’re done.
(via catsbrew-blogs)
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Moon while fighting Sun for control in RUIN: “It won’t work. Take your nap! No more Sun!”
SO IT IS A TRIGGER FOR ONE AI TO SLEEP AND THE OTHER TO WAKE UP.
ME AND DANA GOT IT RIGHT.
And it’s absolutely canon that it’s painful and not just Sun being dramatic. Poor bois
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Ruby Bridges is 68. This is not ancient history. Not even close.
I know Ruby. She’s a really nice person. The idea that they would try and write what she did as a girl out of history is shocking to me on so many levels, the simplest of which is just, but don’t they know how lovely she is?
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*Angeal bursts into the room*
Angeal: WHY WAS GENESIS IN A GIANT ENVELOPE IN THE MAIL ROOM??
Sephiroth: Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul.
Angeal: HE HAD STAMPS ALL OVER HIS FOREHEAD.
Sephiroth: Wings stripped away. The end is nigh.
Angeal: DID YOU TRY TO MAIL GENESIS??
Sephiroth: Ripples form on the water’s surface.
Angeal: SEPHIROTH HE HAD DUCT TAPE OVER HIS MOUTH.
Sephiroth: The wandering soul knows no rest.
Angeal: THE DELIVERY ADDRESS READ BITCH LAND, SEPHIROTH.
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Grian comes to again, flat on his back, and groans. Distantly, he hears Scar yelling an apology. It’s hard to tell if Scar had accidentally dropped sand, accidentally kicked one of the dragon eggs currently littering their bases (causing it to fall), or had missed concrete somewhere and caused that to drop, but the apology, this time, was at least sincere, so he’s fairly certain Scar didn’t intentionally knock Grian out. Doesn’t mean Grian hadn’t been knocked on his ass by, what, a pavlovian reaction to sand? But it means Scar hadn’t been intentionally exploiting it.
He’s rubbing his head when he hears them chittering distantly. He looks up, and then he Looks up, just to make sure he’s not imagining it, and… yep, they’re there. The Watchers. They’re busy happily chittering about the fact that Grian passes out when any block falls to the ground. Of course they are. He wonders if this is their fault. Probably not; Watchers may be annoying, but they can’t see the future, so it’s not like they’d have known about the egg thing ahead of time. No, they’re probably just amused at his suffering.
Joke’s on them. This is mostly just going to make cleaning up slower. And they’re going to have to deal with that too, on account of the fact Grian can’t do much else until it’s done.
He’s trying to hit another egg with a piston when he hears, distantly, “shoot, the beach!”, realizes what has happened, and then he’s waking up on the ground again. He stares at the sky for a moment.
“Trust Scar with sand, I thought. He terraforms all the time, I thought. He won’t keep messing me up with it, I thought.” He groans.
The chittering of the Watchers gets louder. He hears a lot of ‘Scar’ and ‘sand’ and ‘he can’t bear it’ and. Great. Grian’s pretty sure he knows what comment is coming next—
you’ve never left that desert.
“So this is your fault!” he says, accusingly. “Why! All it’s done is make my life more confusing!”
Indistinct noises. At one point, when Grian had been more one of them than he is now, he had been able to tell all of the voices apart easily. Now, the Watchers are somewhere between the wall of incomprehensible, horrible sound that they are to mortals and normal voices. He has to strain to pick out anything overly specific. He supposes if he chose to go all Watcher again he’d be able to tell what they’re saying, but frankly, they’re all annoying, so why would he bother? Better to stick to things as they are.
He messages Scar: If you drop sand one more time I am going to figure out how to add more dragon eggs to your base.
Scar messages back: its an accideet
Grian responds one more time: lol. accideet.
He takes a moment before standing up to check around himself. Scar does seem to have moved on from whatever he’d been doing with terraforming to keep dropping gravity blocks, so it’s probably safe to stand without passing out again. What had he been doing? Right. Eggs. Piston.
you never left that desert, Grian hears again from the wall of noise.
“Right. That’s me. Never left,” Grian says. Honestly.
can’t stand the sight of scar and sand.
“You know you guys are reaching, right?” Grian says.
never left—
“I would if you’d let me!” snaps Grian.
Indistinct chittering. Deep breaths. He’s fine. He’s apparently developed sand-based epilepsy or something, and is trying to find the solution to that, but. Fine. He’s fine. It’s not like arguing with Watchers is ever actually worth it. They never change their mind. The thing is that they tend to think they know exactly how he works, and no matter how much he tries to refute their baseless assumptions, they still have a picture in their head, and they still keep working off of it.
A strange shudder runs down his back.
you never left that desert.
“Look, it’s not that I’m not over it,” Grian says. “I’m actually pretty over it. I’ve been over it since Last Life, really, even if none of you believe me.” He puts another egg in his inventory. “Scar’s my friend and he’s a weird guy and I like him, but it’s not like I’m not over that stupid game. Wouldn’t keep playing it if I weren’t over it, would I?”
Indistinct chittering about tragedy and deserts and dramatic final suicides and, look, Grian is good at telling stories. That’s the whole point. That’s why these guys won’t leave him alone. But sometimes, he swears…
“So you know, I would have left the desert by now. It’s just that you all haven’t. So guess who’s still stuck here? Believe me, it’s not me who’s not over it. If you wanted me out of the desert, you could let me leave any time you’d l—”
He has a second’s warning before he’s on the ground, dizzy, hoping he hasn’t gotten a concussion. He glances down at his communicator.
Mumbo says: that was me this time my bad
Shakily, Grian types: you have 10 seconds. start running.
The chittering gets more distant. Grian gets up. He checks to make sure his wings are on. He goes to light a rocket, but not before shouting: “Scar, if you do anything with gravity blocks while I am actively flying I will kill you dead!”
“Have fun buddy!” Scar shouts back. Grian’s not sure Scar actually heard a word he said. Well, hopefully there will be no sand falling from his hands while he goes to murder Mumbo, then. If there is, Grian’s—well, Grian’s going to have a broken bone at that rate, but he’s recovered from far worse falls. Some of those have even been Scar’s fault, by some measure or another.
He Looks back up at the mass he knows are the Watchers. “If this is you all’s fault because you never seem to have gotten over the whole desert thing, I’ll find a way to, I don’t know. Inconvenience you greatly. Not sure what I’ll do, but I’ll figure it out.”
The chittering gets way more fond, then. Pleased. They want him to do that. Can’t even threaten the assholes properly, they like it. Honestly, Grian doesn’t know why he bothers. It’s not like they’ll listen. No matter how many times he says he’s over it, it’s not like they’ll listen.
(Sometimes, he hates that he’s so good at stories.)
Right then. Time to wreak havoc on his friends for exploiting his very exploitable weakness, then. This sword’s got sharpness on it, right?
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(originally written for @hermitcraftguesstheauthorevent, and posted on ao3 here; now that it’s revealed, i figured i’d go ahead and post it here, since it really matches the cadence of one of my tumblr things more than an ao3-only fic. enjoy!)
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A note to all creatives:
Right now, you have to be a team player. You cannot complain about AI being used to fuck over your industry and then turn around and use it on somebody else’s industry.
No AI book covers. No making funny little videos using deepfakes to make an actor say stuff they never did. No AI translation of your book. No AI audiobooks. No AI generated moodboards or fancasts or any of that shit. No feeding someone else’s unfinished work into Chat GPT “because you just want to know how it ends*” (what the fuck is wrong with you?). No playing around with AI generated 3D assets you can’t ascertain the origin of. None of it. And stop using AI filters on your selfies or ESPECIALLY using AI on somebody else’s photo or artwork.
We are at a crossroad and at a time of historically shitty conditions for working artists across ALL creative fields, and we gotta stick together. And you know what? Not only is standing up for other artists against exploitation and theft the morally correct thing to do, it’s also the professionally smartest thing to do, too. Because the corporations will fuck you over too, and then they do it’s your peers that will hold you up. And we have a long memory.
Don’t make the mistake of thinking “your peers” are only the people in your own industry. Writers can’t succeed without artists, editors, translators, etc making their books a reality. Illustrators depend on writers and editors for work. Video creators co-exist with voice actors and animators and people who do 3D rendering etc. If you piss off everyone else but the ones who do the exact same job you do, congratulations! You’ve just sunk your career.
Always remember: the artists who succeed in this career path, the ones who get hired or are sought after for commissions or collaboration, they aren’t the super talented “fuck you I got mine” types. They’re the one who show up to do the work and are easy to get along with.
And they especially are not scabs.
*that’s not even how it ends that’s a statistically likely and creatively boring way for it to end. Why would you even want to read that.
(via cadaverkeys)
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MFW, duh, Scala Teen Xehanort has that absurdly high waistband on his pants cuz they’re old-timey jeans. They’re for suspenders. They’re some coal-miner jeans. They’re not for making him look like he’s from a different time as the others, they’re for making him look like he’s from a different place. Bragi’s the guy with Japanese blue-collar-worker-dude pants and Xehanort’s got Western-looking blue-collar-worker-dude pants.
Bragi’s bomber jacket remains anachronistic (the bomber jacket in that short, ‘baggy top gathered into a narrow waistband that stops at the actual waist or higher’ style wasn’t invented until 1927, the year after the end of the Taisho period in 1926) but everybody else, including Xehanort, are more or less wearing fantasy wizard school early-Taisho-period-appropriate style. Xehanort and Bragi just stand out by virtue of Xehanort wearing actually American old-timey denim pants (he’s not from Scala!!) and Bragi is ooooone year too contemporary for the whole period, and at least ten years ahead of fashion compared to everybody else (HOO BOY, BRAGI).
A+ character designers, four for you Dark Road character designers!
Tell me Xehanort isn’t wearing his pants like these old-timey iron miners.
Belt loops weren’t invented until 1922! Before then if you wanted to wear a belt to keep your pants up you needed a BUNCH of pants real estate above it so it didn’t just ride up and right off your pants! Those are OLD TIMEY jeanssss.
(via darkvolley)
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You never see good camouflage.
there are 4 people in this picture
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ALT
NEED!
Twitter OP is the one making them, by the way.
ALT
ALTThey’re currently out of stock because it’s a small business but they’re going to be restocked soon!
