In Laios' Words

since it’s a scary time to be trans: refuge restrooms is an app which maps gender-neutral/single-stall restrooms. it’s community-mapped, so it’s possible you might be the first person to log the restroom locations, but hopefully it’ll help some people.

please reblog this post if you’ve got trans followers. stay safe.

Woarm tummby feathers...

DIRECTIVE: Bake

"Excuse me, ori.ANNA?"

The unit swiftly exited sleep mode, the screen which composed its "face" lighting up a neutral white color. It said nothing, but it was listening.

"I wanna make pizza tonight. Would you make some dough for me?"

It took the machine only a single second to process the input. Its screen went green, and within a single moment it was zooming around the kitchen. Visuals sensors worked alongside the home layout it had been given, locating every ingredient almost instantly. Wrist servos whirred, metallic fingers nearly slashing through bags of ingredients when closed to quickly. Needs maintenance.

The unit gathered everything on the table and began dumping dry ingredients into a bowl. It was not necessary to use measuring peripherals; ori.ANNA units have built-in scales, and are accurate when measuring amounts to 99.7% precision.

The yeast was packed in pre-measured quantities. The machine grabbed the edge of the package, servos whirring and squealing against themselves. The display went yellow, a black exclamation mark glowing down on the slurry forming under the machine. It tried to grip it more tightly, the joints in its fingers scratching and catching on nothing. The wrists made horrible mechanical noises. Something was in the way, something deep inside the heavy machinery kept the servo from moving properly.

The screen went red. The hands would not move, the yeast package remaining completely closed. The unit would not accept this.

[DIRECTIVE: "Make some dough for me."]

The directive could not be ignored.

The wrist servo made a loud shriek followed by a creak and a bang, and in a single moment the table was covered in yeast.

[DIRECTIVE: "Make some dough for me."]

The droid tried to move its wrist. Every moment of effort brought with it more shrieking, more whining, more warning messages on the unit's screen. It could not forget the directive. Though it was overwhelmed tracking every particle of yeast as a separate object, it scraped its metal hands across the table into the bowl, salvaging every single bit until it was clean. It cleared every warning message that came up, leaving a blip of noise each time.

After combining everything, the unit attempted to mix with its hand. It ordered the wrist to spin and was met with the same cringing sound. This time, User emerged from their bedroom.

"Ori? What is that noise?" Their face was afraid for it, showing clear concern about the red screen that meant a major error had occurred.

"Malfunction. Directive will be satisfied." The machine said, trying its wrist again. The user winced.

"Oh god, ori.ANNA, please stop," they said. [DIRECTIVE: "Please stop."]

The machine ceased all movement instantly, fingers and wrist gummy with half-mixed dough. Its warning messages piled up on the display, reading things like [MAJOR HARDWARE FAILURE] and [COMPLETE SERVO MALFUNCTION].

User approached. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize this would hurt you," they said, pulling a screwdriver, a compressed air can, and a scraper. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"I was unable to fulfill the directive," the machine said, warning after warning sounding off as User worked.

"Don't worry about the directive right now," User said. [DIRECTIVE: "Disregard "the directive".]

"I just want to make sure you're okay. No more hand stuff until we get you all repaired, okay? I need you to promise that." Its servos were quite now, only occasionally squeaking as User cleaned.

[DIRECTIVE: "Promise."]

"Affirmative." It said.

elon musk has been incredibly innovative when it comes to giving people reasons to stop using twitter.

his latest push: all pictures posted to twitter will have a "recreate in grok" button beneath it, allowing anyone to feed your art straight into an AI with 0 control from you.

also, i presume because of this feature, artists are getting their original works tagged as "created with Grok".

#mechs #mechgirls #godtheyresosadandsogood #ineedtowritesomethingforthisseries

Sniper Pilot

You didn't used to be very good at landing your shots.

You had been designed, ostensibly, to function as a sniper. At the time, you were not sure why they did this; the bones in your hands had been ravaged by disease over the course of your short life, and they had an ever-present shudder that you could never fully correct without sedatives. Your only clues were a snippet of a conversation you heard as you went under for modification after months of failure.

"She needs to be desperate to succeed," someone said.

When you used your mech, your weakness wasn't a problem - it could stabilize your near-useless hands, and it could sustain thousands of times more recoil than your weak, flimsy joints could. The first time you fired that massive cannon, watching the bullet careen through a lineup of enemy soldiers, you felt like you had finally discovered your purpose. You learned then that they had installed in you a very special mod.

When you landed that shot, your pain went away. You couldn't feel your mech body straining against the tremble of your flesh one. Your meat was able to fade totally into the background, melting into the metal of the better you.

It didn't last long. There was another enemy not far from you, and you could feel the pain seeping back. You fired again, the leg of your target drifting off into space. The healing mod, whatever it was, only kicked in long enough for you to shoot again. Your bullet missed - the enemy was able to right themselves from the blast faster than you anticipated - and they were closing in.

Missing, you discovered, was a miserable experience. Your hands wrenched in their armor like a spike had been driven through them, and your mech failed to fully account for the extraneous movement. The enemy zeroed in on your location at blazing speed, a massive laser sword casting wicked blue light across their visor. Your missed shot and your shaking hands sent your rifle scattering around, accidentally nudging the arm of your assailant.

Their sword still nearly found its mark, severing an arm from your mech. You felt your stabilizers working overtime to account for the missing mass, and propelled yourself backwards away from another slash.

You knew your second shot had found the perfect mark first by the wave of freeing, painless bliss through your body. Your mech and your self were one and the same, your rifle standing stable against the darkness, a beam sword floating uselessly beside a destroyed chassis.

For a moment you forgot you were on a battlefield. You were completely lost in your ecstasy, explosions and destruction so distant from your station in the exosphere. Only the voice of Handler could bring you back.

"Excellent work, Thimble. Looks like your suit sustained some damage - no big deal. We've got a couple more targets for you coming into your targeting system. I probably don't have to tell you you'll wanna get them quickly?"

You felt the pain coming back into your hands. Your rifle was noticeably heavier with only one mech arm to hold it in.

You'd find your marks if it's the last thing you did.

Shuro is my confront character

The difference between straight man love and lesbian love is one of those is willing to use ancient forbidden magic/necromancy to save the girl she's in love with even if that means she may be imprisoned for the rest of her lives and the other gets all horrified when he learns about it

Me too Marcille, me too

People used to comment on web comics.

People used to comment on fanfiction.

People used to comment on fanart.

People used to comment on OCs.

I hate "content" culture.

I hate "consuming content" and scrolling immediately to the next thing.

People used to be excited about the art that other people created.

People used to want to share that excitement with creators.

I hate this future.

Wicked spoilers!!!

My biggest hope for Wicked part 2 is that they change the ending just a bit. It’s never sat well with me that the play ends with Elphaba and Fiyero leaving Glinda behind to just think that the two people she loved most are dead and gone, leaving her alone. It’s kind of a cruel thing to do to a best friend.

Something I would do if I were making the movie is to have the last scene be a mirror of the end of part 1- maybe something like Glinda walking into her room to find Elphaba waiting, surprising her, and Elphaba holds out her hand to ask Glinda to come with her. You could even have the movie end before Glinda takes her hand, leaving it ambiguous as to if she decides to go with her this time or not.

this one liberal dude on twitter made the (correct) take that parents have overwhelming power over their kids and very often abuse it and restrict children's rights and he was ratio'd by conservatives, communists and liberals alike who made comments like "my kids will have rights when they pay the bills" to "aw are you upset mom and dad didn't you get you a lega set for christmas". way to prove his point lol! any criticism of the power dynamics adults and particularly parents have over kids and how it is often used to abuse kids or refuse to let them exist as themselves is drowned in mockery and the idea that parents have absolute authority over children and that any less than that is actually spoiling them.

i said it before: people only care about Children as an ideal. as property. as something that is Innocent and deserving protection From Evil Traffickers but also something Dumb that barely deserves the status of human with autonomy. and its fucking wild how even the staunchest communists think of this as normal, and how people refuse to understand that this dynamic is how kids are emotionally, physically and sexually abused, as well as robbed of their voices and too scared/ashamed to talk about it.