#it's not a medical necessity you can fucking WAIT like everybody else with a moral bone in their body

[thotpuppy]

If you’re so vehemently against ai fanart what’s your take on fanmade graphics and edits that use stolen pictures from the internet? These fans didn’t go out with their camera to capture the images themselves, they searched through Pinterest and google and found photos taken by real photographers and, without asking permission, stole these images to edit and create into something else. Yet this practice is widely accepted amongst fandom, but the second ai is involved it’s akin to murder? Even when the fans have clearly uploaded said ai generations into photoshop to edit them first? Seems like a pick-and-choose double standard to me.

Okay first of all, let's address the fact that - going by the language you've used here - you've already decided how I feel about it, so why bother the pretense of "asking"? Dishonesty breeds Discontent. Don't lie to someone's face and expect them to be kind, yeah?

Secondly, almost every single person I know who works with image manipulation uses assets they DO have the rights to outside of specific actor's likenesses. There are millions of photos, graphics, illustrations, paintings, etc. that are open for free personal AND commercial use allllll over the internet and people use them liberally. And, actually, many, MANY of these people DO go out and take their own photographs, so I don't know where your misconception is coming from.

And, the big kicker - they also don't lie about it. They say when something is an edited photo, if it's not obvious.

Stolen images being used in edits is NOT widely accepted and is in fact generally pretty damn frowned upon in most art circles, and I absolutely don't support use of them.

Every single instance of fanart is a rocky road as far as IP infringement goes, but don't put fanartists on the same level as the industry professionals providing celebrity model photos. Unlike in AI and Art Theft, when those photos are used that's bringing attention to the figure in question, not taking it away from an actual creator.

Lastly, where the FUCK do you get off saying ANYONE is comparing AI use to murder? Persecution complex much? I get it, you wanna be a victim so bad, but you're the one stealing from people at YOUR industry level.

AI in general has a metric fuckton of potential to be something genuinely useful to artists of all walks, but the CURRENT industry is too unethically sourced. We need to get control of the market, get stolen works (including, once again, STOLEN LEAKED MEDICAL RECORDS) out of the training data, even if that means starting over from scratch.

Also, we need to get the bullies who think it's okay to do shit like spam a Machine Learning program with a single artist's work to harass them offline, target voice actors who have asked not to have their voices used into harassment campaigns, or lie to celebrities by selling them commercial rights to ML-generated fanart, which right now, they legally CAN'T DO. Because the copyrightable legitimacy of AI/ML works IS currently in debate in courts in the US. So.

Maybe instead of assuming everyone is out to get you, Anon, try not being a douchebag and stealing from fellow fanartists? And if you're gonna steal anyways, at least be honest and don't lie to people trying to convince them it's actually a digital illustration.

We can see the weird, fake blending. We can see the extra fingers, or utensils clipping through plates, or hands disappearing into heads, or shoes that don't end where shoes end. And while I'm not going out of my way to confront anyone about it, I'll just stay here on my own blog, blocking people who post AI, I am not the only person who is angry and disgusted at the lack of integrity and blatant disrespect.

[eyeofnewtblog]

Yzin might be an emu

Yzin kept her eyes slitted when the Too’orlian guards came into the captivity chamber.

She had folded her body into the wakeful-restive pose, with her neck folded along her spine and her feet tucked under her body. The rest of her flock had barely settled down into similar positions, after much whistling of distress and confusion. Small victories were a necessity of morale, she decided. Even if it was only her own morale.

Her tunic was filthy, beginning to reek of stale feces and watered down cleaning product. She made a metal note to contact David’s eldest hatchling, for instructional cleaning information.

The guards circled the chamber, eyeing the other captives in silence.

Pass over us, pass over us, pass over us, she chanted silently, hoping for at least another shift to pass.

The guards stopped in front of their cell; the shuffling of their feet brought several heads up from her flock. Yzin deliberately kept her head down.

“Too calm,” the first guard said, waving his claws at the caged scientists. “Maybe sick. We tell captain?”

The second guard waved a claw dismissively, before bringing the butt of his rifle down onto the nearest bar of the cage. The rest of the flock startled up, moving to the back of the cage with distressed and fearful whistles.

“They are fine. This one, maybe.” The guard gestured at Yzin with his claw, then crouched down. Yzin brought her head up, close enough that even her poor olfactory senses could pick up the smell of rotting meat on his breath.

She made sure to keep her body angled just so, flush against the bars: Never let ‘em know your body is smaller than it is, she could almost hear David whisper to her.

“Why you no sing?” The Too’orlian guard asked her. “No sing, bring low money. Bad for business.”

“I wait to sing. I wait for many things. I wait for hatchlings, I wait for a mate, I wait for my mother to accept my career...I wait for my human to come.” She pulled her head back slowly, then jabbed her beak forward as hard as she could.

She shook the blood and eye remnants off of her beak as the remaining guard dragged his crewman towards the medical bed in the center of the chamber.

While the screaming commenced, she unfolded her wings straight up, touching the joints over her head, breathing out to compact her lungs, and forced her body through the bars. Both rifles had been dropped; she used her beak and one foot to line up the shot and hold the trigger, the body of the rifle held against her ribs with one wing and braced against the bars she had just come through. Squeeze gently, don’t pull, she reminded herself.

Once the guards were dead, she went to the door and disabled the automatic override, then disconnected the manual override mechanisms. She took a moment to smooth her feathers, despite the lack of difference it made. Then she went to the corpses of the guards and located sufficient incendiary devices, climbed the cages, and carefully rigged the vent to explode if anything tried to come through it.

Then she released the prisoners.

She stood apart from the group, wanting to wail. Wanting to stamp her feet and thrash her head, wanting to tear out her own feathers in mourning for their combined suffering.

I must keep going, she told her self. I must keep going, I must, I must. I must. To stop is to watch all of us die. I must.

She turned to the only computer console in the room, perched herself, and began.

First, she disabled the automatic override for the air circulation to the chamber, then to her entire half of the ship. Next, she forced her way into the communication systems.

She pulled out the only object her tunic had been able to conceal; a small, flat disc. It contained a playlist that David had made for her. He had handed it to her just before the last time she had seen him. She inserted the disc into the console, brought up the first song, and jammed it through every outgoing communication signal that the ship had, and set it on repeat.

One of her scientists nudged her with his wingtips after an indeterminate amount of time, the physical touch knocking her out of her near catatonic state.

“What now?”

“We wait.”

“You cautioned us to wait when we were first captured. Now we are in a bigger cage, with much more dire consequences.”

“Yes.”

“If Lieutenant Richards does not come?”

“He will come.”

“We have traveled two sleep cycles. He has only ever-”

“He will come.”

“But in the very likely event-”

“You are terrible at playing poker. I do not assign blame for this, as it is a failing of our species; it is a human game that has been taught to me. We are doing what is called a ‘sitting duck’, which is part of ‘bluffing’. We are waiting for the hidden ace. He will come.” Yzin touched her beak to his, and whistled comfort.

“However-”

“Your concern is noted. It is the fifth of its kind to be raised in two days. At this point in time, it is redundant and arbitrary. You have witnessed both my research regarding the lieutenant, and his own personal accomplishments. If that is not enough, then there is no other comfort I can provide you.”

Her subordinate left, to rejoin the group of fellow prisoners.

Several hours later, the Too’orlian captain had managed to solder a small hole in the door, large enough to speak through.

“Your hope will die with, screaming. I make much scream. You hope for what? For die screaming? Make much bad for business!”

Yzin was about to answer him, when the ship lurched alarmingly. She could not hold back her whistles of joy.

“I hoped for time! I hoped for your death! Did you know that humans are persistence hunters? My human has tracked me across half a planet! Did you truly think he would not track me through the black?” Yzin laughed, her feathers ruffled out in pure relief. The ship lurched again, followed by an explosion.

The Too’orlian cursing faded down the hallway.

Ten minutes later, David screamed her name through the hole in the door.

She re-enabled the manual override mechanisms and slid the door open.

“Goddammit, if I have to listen to Stayin’ Alive one more fucking time I will blow mine, and everybody else’s brains out! Your music privileges are permanently revoked! But also I just blew up a shit ton of stuff and I really fuckin’ miss it, so getting kidnapped more often should definitely be on your list of shit to do.”

Yzin drew her head back and stabbed him in the leg with her beak as hard as she possibly could.

“Motherfucking emu!” David screeched. “Fuck it, fuck it, get up here and do the shoulder thing, we got incoming! Everybody copy? I got hostages and incoming on section 8B, lead me out with twenty plus! Debby, get the fuck on my six! Rachel, if I don’t have evcac in T-minus sixty I’m grounding you until you’re forty-fucking-five! And I swear to God in Heaven if you’re Uncle Mike doesn’t meet us at Vega Four with a shit ton of dimplomatic immunity paperwork I’m never coming to any birthday ever! Dammit Yzin, squeeze! Gently! Fuck, I might as well have a six year old strapped to my back. Okay, see that little thing trying to look around the corner? Lean way over, more, more, squeeze, GOOD GIRL, THE RINGING IS JUST TEMPORARY HEARING LOSS, YOU’LL BE FINE, I PROMISE.”

[eyeofnewtblog]

Chapter Thirteen

Yzin kept her eyes slitted when the Too’orlian guards came into the captivity chamber.

She had folded her body into the wakeful-restive pose, with her neck folded along her spine and her feet tucked under her body. The rest of her flock had barely settled down into similar positions, after much whistling of distress and confusion. Small victories were a necessity of morale, she decided. Even if it was only her own morale.

Her tunic was filthy, beginning to reek of stale feces and watered down cleaning product. She made a mental note to contact David’s eldest hatchling, for instructional cleaning information.

The guards circled the chamber, eyeing the other captives in silence.

Pass over us, pass over us, pass over us, she chanted silently, hoping for at least another shift to pass.

The guards stopped in front of their cell; the shuffling of their feet brought several heads up from her flock. Yzin deliberately kept her head down.

“Too calm,” the first guard said, waving his claws at the caged scientists. “Maybe sick. We tell captain?”

The second guard waved a claw dismissively, before bringing the butt of his rifle down onto the nearest bar of the cage. The rest of the flock startled up, moving to the back of the cage with distressed and fearful whistles.

“They are fine. This one, maybe.” The guard gestured at Yzin with his claw, then crouched down. Yzin brought her head up, close enough that even her poor olfactory senses could pick up the smell of rotting meat on his breath.

She made sure to keep her body angled just so, flush against the bars: Never let ‘em know your body is smaller than it is, she could almost hear David whisper to her.

“Why you no sing?” The Too’orlian guard asked her. “No sing, bring low money. Bad for business.”

“I wait to sing. I wait for many things. I wait for hatchlings, I wait for a mate, I wait for my mother to accept my career…I wait for my human to come.” She pulled her head back slowly, then jabbed her beak forward as hard as she could.

She shook the blood and eye remnants off of her beak as the remaining guard dragged his crewman towards the medical bed in the center of the chamber.

While the screaming commenced, she unfolded her wings straight up, touching the joints over her head, breathing out to compact her lungs, and forced her body through the bars. Both rifles had been dropped; she used her beak and one foot to line up the shot and hold the trigger, the body of the rifle held against her ribs with one wing and braced against the bars she had just come through. Squeeze gently, don’t pull, she reminded herself.

Once the guards were dead, she went to the door and disabled the automatic override, then disconnected the manual override mechanisms. She took a moment to smooth her feathers, despite the lack of difference it made. Then she went to the corpses of the guards and located sufficient incendiary devices, climbed the cages, and carefully rigged the vent to explode if anything tried to come through it.

Then she released the prisoners.

She stood apart from the group, wanting to wail. Wanting to stamp her feet and thrash her head, wanting to tear out her own feathers in mourning for their combined suffering.

I must keep going, she told herself. I must keep going, I must, I must. I must. To stop is to watch all of us die. I must.

She turned to the only computer console in the room, perched herself, and began.

First, she disabled the automatic override for the air circulation to the chamber, then to her entire half of the ship. Next, she forced her way into the communication systems.

She pulled out the only object her tunic had been able to conceal; a small, metallic bead. It contained a playlist that David had made for her, handed to her just before the last time she had seen him. She linked the bead into the console, brought up the first song, and jammed it through every outgoing communication signal that the ship had, and set it on repeat.

One of her scientists nudged her with his wingtips after an indeterminate amount of time, the physical touch knocking her out of her near catatonic state.

“What now?”

“We wait.”

“You cautioned us to wait when we were first captured. Now we are in a bigger cage, with much more dire consequences.”

“Yes.”

“If Lieutenant Richards does not come?”

“He will come.”

“We have traveled two sleep cycles. He has only ever-”

“He will come.”

“But in the very likely event-”

“You are terrible at playing poker. I do not assign blame for this, as it is a failing of our species; we are biologically ill-suited for deception, and socially conditioned to avoid risk, regardless of mathematically favorable odds. It is a human game that has been taught to me. We are doing what is called a ‘sitting duck’, which is part of ‘bluffing’. We are waiting for the hidden ace. He will come.” Yzin touched her beak to his, and whistled comfort.

“However-”

“Your concern is noted. It is the fifth of its kind to be raised in two cycles. At this point in time, it is redundant and arbitrary. You have witnessed both my research regarding the lieutenant, and his own personal accomplishments. If that is not enough, then there is no other comfort I can provide you.”

Her subordinate left, to rejoin the group of fellow prisoners.

Several hours later, the Too’orlian captain had managed to solder a small hole in the door, large enough to speak through.

“Your hope will die with, screaming. I make much scream. You hope for what? For die screaming? Make much bad for business!”

Yzin was about to answer him, when the ship lurched alarmingly. She could not hold back her whistles of joy.

“I hoped for time! I hoped for your death! Did you know that humans are persistence hunters? My human has tracked me across half a planet! Did you truly think he would not track me through the black?” Yzin laughed, her feathers ruffled out in pure relief. The ship lurched again, followed by an explosion.

The Too’orlian cursing faded down the hallway.

Ten minutes later, David screamed her name through the hole in the door.

She re-enabled the manual override mechanisms and slid the door open.

“Goddammit, if I have to listen to Stayin’ Alive one more fucking time I will blow mine, and everybody else’s brains out! Your music privileges are permanently revoked! But also I just blew up a shit ton of stuff and I really fuckin’ miss it, so getting kidnapped more often should definitely be on your list of shit to do.”

Yzin drew her head back and stabbed him in the leg with her beak as hard as she possibly could.

“Motherfucking emu!” David screeched. “Fuck it, fuck it, get up here and do the shoulder thing, we got incoming! Everybody copy? I got hostages and incoming on section 8B, lead me out with twenty plus! Debbie, get the fuck on my six! Rachel, if I don’t have evcac in T-minus sixty I’m grounding you until you’re forty-fucking-five! And I swear to God in Heaven if you’re Uncle Mike doesn’t meet us at Vega Four with a shit ton of diplomatic immunity paperwork I’m never coming to any birthday ever! Dammit Yzin, squeeze! Gently! Fuck, I might as well have a six year old strapped to my back. Okay, see that little thing trying to look around the corner? Lean way over, more, more, squeeze, GOOD GIRL, THE RINGING IS JUST TEMPORARY HEARING LOSS, YOU’LL BE FINE, IT’S REALLY COMMON FOR SCREAMER CANNONS.”