The fact that artists can spawn memes that people keep using and it doesn’t really increase awareness of them at all is kinda sad, I see people regularly mindblown that these and around a dozen other memes are all just from the webcomic Gunshow
Mark the electrician has been here for five minutes and he’s already said “well that’s…weird” twice from the other room and frankly I’m afraid to ask.
It’s not good when skilled tradesman are standing in the middle of your room pinching the bridge if their nose, is it?
Mark just referred to the wiring in our bedroom as “creative” and “interesting”.
This is fine.
And now he’s taking apart the ceiling. I’m not worried, are any of you worried? I’m not, haha, it’s not like this house was previously owned by someone who would do something stupid like try to wire their house themselves…or store tins of varnish under the furnace behind a secret alcove…
Ha ha…
Ha.
Hm.
Fuck.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S NO NEUTRAL WIRES??!?
WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S GROUNDED INTO THE SCREWS HOLDING UP THE CEILING LIGHT???!?!!
This post crosses my dashboard every so often and every time, I’m reminded of when I discovered that my whole house was grounded to a gas line.
Oh 𝔽𝕌ℂ𝕂! You didn’t tell me you had a beast in your home. You’ve got a little goggyee. Eh- BOGGY. A poopy dog. A buppy- a little 𝐹𝑈𝐶𝐾𝐼𝑁𝐺 ƊOƐGGУ. I’ve never seen a reell dog before! We only have Lego® Dogs on Lego® Island. 𝒪𝒽! Oh FUCK! Oh fuck nooo! This red bastard’s got teeth! Sharp teethh. He’s going to tear me into little Lego® pieces. I’ve never been so scared in my life! WHAT THE FUCK this is like a jumpscare from Five Fuckers at Uncle Festers. GET ME THE 𝔽𝕌ℂ𝕂OUT OF HERE!
everything about the gestures o the hands convey the concept of a robot that is absolutely fucking pumped to pet a cat and then panics when it doesnt go right
wghatever the fuck this genre of tweet is i cant fucking stop saying mein scheiss Hund as a vocal stim
As someone who knows a fair amount of German I’m trying to translate these tweets myself and Scheiß can also be used for fuck as well as shit so it can also be “my fucking dog Tank of Peace is drifting 200 nautical miles off the Colombian coast” is a whole new level of funny too me
dad: …am I going to have to teach you how to shave?
me: uh yeah! at some point, lol
dad: hm. well I can show you the way I prefer, with mug soap and a brush, because the aerosol cans are just no. I showed your brother my way and he likes it a lot better too…
dad:[rambles for a bit]
dad: …it’s really just another chore, you look in the mirror and go ‘ugh I have to shave soon’ so it’s just one of those things you do every once in a while
me, externally: haha yeah, I can’t wait :]
me, internally: he’s talking about this like it’s no big deal, it’s not weird at all,,, he doesn’t mind the idea of teaching me despite the fact that he never expected to be doing this with me,,,, he’s my dad and he supports me even if he doesn’t completely get it,,,
The Robot Apocalypse came. Cities are empty, you stayed since you’re almost out of insulin and will die soon anyway. The robots find you and while processing you one of them sees your insulin pump and asks if you want to apply for dual citizenship, since the pump technically makes you a cyborg.
Suddenly all the people with prosthetics, wheelchairs, implants, and the like are getting the accommodations and help they need without having to be poor or locked away in a care center. This is an apocalypse I can get behind!
The other survivors left us behind.
They said it was nothing personal—the bus could only fit so many people, after all, and escape would be hard enough without “dead weight” dragging them down.
We understood. The world was ending, not changing.
“Shouldn’t we be looking for shelter or something?” Samantha asked as we sat around a garbage-can fire. (Tao was experienced in making them, from what we gathered, and the flames had grown in no time. We tried to ask him how he knew what to do. He responded, but none of us knew sign language.)
Hank snorted. “What’s the point? Not like we’ll make it long, anyway.” He rubbed the spot beneath his shirt where we knew his insulin pump to be. “Least, I won’t. You folks are welcome to try.”
No one spoke for quite a while. No one got up, either.
Maria garbled something that I couldn’t make out. Antonio, one of the only able-bodied to stay behind, smiled and patted the armrest of her wheelchair. “It is kind of like camping,” he said. “All we need is some marshmallows.”
“I’ve never been camping,” Dwayne said quietly.
Samantha grinned. “Hey, me neither!” She held her prosthetic at arms-length so she could reach past me to give him a high-five. He chuckled and slapped his palm against hers.
“Well,” Monique said, hobbling back to our makeshift camp. She was using what appeared to be a broom as a crutch. “I’m officially on my last leg.” She waggled her eyebrows, and we groaned.
“Anyway, I didn’t find any water,” she continued. “There’s some Mountain Dew cases over at the gas station, but I’ll need help carrying them back. Doesn’t help that this one got stuck under some debris.” She gestured down at her stump, which cut off just below the knee. The plastic of her other leg was scuffed and dented.
“Ya know,” Hank said, “if it was real, ya probably would’ve had ta chew it off or something. Guess you’re lucky, huh?”
Monique laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. Real lucky.”
Tao startled us with his sudden chuckling. He bent over, wheezing and slapping his knee. He signed something, and began laughing even harder.
We looked to each other, unsure. Then we joined in. Hesitantly, at first, but soon we were clutching our sides and wiping away tears. And for a moment, we could forget.
All of us heard the familiar whirring of robots as they approached.
Through our laughter, none of us cared.
————
They scanned Hank first. We braced ourselves for the blaster fire that would inevitably follow.
But none came.
“IMPLANT DETECTED,” the bot said, beam stopping on Hank’s abdomen. “PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
Hank glanced at us, then back at the robots who had spotlights and guns trained on each member of the group. Then he shrugged.
“Sure. Why not?”
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-237. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.” Two bots took place on either side of Hank, urging him towards their transport.
The treatment was a stark contrast to what we’d witnessed from the robots before—gunning down terrified people in the streets, setting charges throughout populated areas. We exchanged confused looks.
Dwayne was next. The scanner stopped on his head, focusing on the lump housing his shunt.
“IMPLANT DETECTED. PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
“…yes?”
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-238. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.”
As they took Dwayne away, realization hit us all at once.
“IMPLANT DETECTED,” the bot said, in reference to the devices curled around Tao’s ears. “PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
Tao signed something. Unlike us, the robot understood.
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-239…”
————
“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
“Hell yeah,” Monique said with a grin.
————
“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
“Yes,” Samantha said, and I thought I noticed tears in her eyes.
————
“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
Maria’s limbs flailed spastically, and a strange shrieking sound built in the back of her throat. The bot cocked its head to the side.
“RESPONSE UNCLEAR. PLEASE STAND BY WHILE ALTERNATE COMMUNICATION IS PROVIDED.”
Another robot stepped forward, its torso transforming into a holographic keyboard of sorts. Maria’s clenched fist shot forward, trembling as she attempted to steady it. With labored, deliberate movements, she typed, the letters spoken aloud in an automated tone.
“Y-E-S.”
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-242. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.” Two bots took their place on either side of her wheelchair, each of them gripping a handlebar. They began to wheel her away.
The bot turned to Antonio, who was standing ramrod-straight. It scanned him.
“NO IMPLANTS DETECTED,” it said. Its blaster hummed to life. Those of us that remained flinched, turning away instinctively, unwilling to watch his execution.
A series of shrieks rang through the night, and the bot paused.
Maria thrashed about, letting out more distressed noises. One of her escorts stepped forward, allowing her to utilize its keyboard.
“A-C-C-O-M-O-D-A-T-I-O-N,” she said. “H-E. I-S. E-X-T-E-N-S-I-O-N.”
The bot seemed to consider for a moment.
Then its gun folded away.
“ACCOMODATION PROTOCAL INITIATED,” it told Antonio. “YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-242B. PLEASE ACCOMPANY YOUR PRIMARY UNIT.”
Antonio stumbled forward, then fell to his knees before the wheelchair. He wrapped his sister in a shuddering hug.
Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Maria’s face, and I could swear I saw her smile.
————
My pacemaker was enough to earn me a spot among the bots’ ranks. I was surprised by just how many humans lived in the facility (though in hindsight, perhaps I shouldn’t have been)—I was even more surprised by our treatment. Not having use of recharging stations, we were provided with bunks and dorms. The cafeteria, while somewhat lacking in options, offered all of the nutrition a carbon-based lifeform could ask for.
And then there were the upgrades.
“Real lucky, huh?” Monique said, taking the seat beside me in the cafeteria. Her robotic legs moved smoothly, fluidly. (“You can’t even notice,” she’d said upon first receiving them, before remembering that there were no longer any stares or judgement to hide from.)
“Damn lucky,” Hank agreed. (If we hadn’t been processed when we were, he would’ve been dead within a week. Here, insulin was never in short supply; as it turned out, it wasn’t nearly as expensive to make as we’d been led to believe.)
Samantha twirled a fork between her fingers, smiling at the satisfying click-click-click of metal on metal. “Hey, Dwayne, how’d your checkup go?”
“Great!” he said, beaming. “This new shunt works even better than my last one. Not a single problem since they put it in.”
Congratulations, Tao signed. He was no longer emaciated, as he’d been when we first met—regular meals and a roof over his head really had done wonders for his health. His smile, of course, was infectious as ever.
Antonio approached, carrying his and Maria’s trays. He wore the uniform of a maintenance tech, though it was more of a formality than anything else—being responsible for the upkeep of Maria’s machinery was one of the only ways he could fulfill his Accommodation Protocol, nowadays.
Did you remember the pudding? Maria asked, her automated voice clear and pleasant. (We couldn’t begin to understand the exact mechanics behind the chip in her head, and how it allowed her to speak—albeit through a machine. Nor could we understand the technology that enabled her to operate her wheelchair independently, as well. But we did know we were grateful for it.)
Antonio rolled his eyes. “A ‘thanks’ would be nice.”
Thank you. Now gimme.
————
I did wonder, occasionally, how the other survivors were faring. If they had found a place to hide from their robotic overlords. If they felt hopeless and abandoned and alone. Their lives had changed drastically overnight—their world had ended.
But ours? Ours is just beginning. And the ones that left us behind just…don’t have a place in it.
it’s so funny when ppl"s defence of no fat characters existing in video games is “uh they wouldn’t be able to physically do the things the character does” like damn i hate to break it to you but skinny bitches can’t physically cast a fireball in real life either but nobody has a problem with that
individual environmentalism gets a lot of flak in the face of corporate pollution but picking up litter makes a significant, noticeable impact. I spend about an hour a week picking up litter from around my dorm complex and I’m literally outpacing my community’s litter production. Just an hour a week from one person is enough to offset nearly 200 people’s worth of littering.
it would take less than 100 man-hours of labor per week to keep my whole college campus entirely litter-free. If you got two classrooms’ worth of people to spend two hours per week each picking up litter, the whole campus would end up spotless and they’d straight up fucking run out of things to pick up.
If you’re looking for some way to make a noticeable and positive impact on the world around you, go pick up some litter.
You don’t have to be black, it just means you support us, you stand by us and your for us.
BLM is still a thing. If you don’t reblog this, but would’ve in June/July you were only in support of black lives when it was a trend. They still need justice
used to work at amazon delivering packages. one mans house in the middle of the woods that i get frequently had one of these alarms set up to a motion detector. not even three steps up his porch and i start feeling violently ill and like my heart is pumping too fast. leave it on the edge of his porch and book it. after i leave, i leave a cunty voicemail to the homeowner about disabling the alarm.
i get this house a few more times and usually end up just leaving what i can by their mailbox. small packages fit in those.
couple of weeks later. same house. huuuuge box nd a bunch of little boxes. i roll up, and before i pull the box out i go up to the porch to check if the alarm is off. its not.
his road was a rlly long and curvy dead end road that led up a mountain. Top of it leads off into national parks. I change his gps pinpoint to mark the top of this road and leave the huge box pile on the side of the road. When you change the gps, it changes it in the system too. Every other delivery driver sees this too.
It was christmas season and i guess plenty of other drivers hated this guy too. About a week later im delivering on this road again and i see all of the packages i left out there, AND an additional 6 or so boxes and like 16 envelopes, completely covered in snow. cardboard all mildewy. Everything absolutely ruined. Couple of weeks later, everything in that pile is gone, and i never deliver to his house again.
Always wondered what took that guy so long to realize his packages were missing but this guy gets shot with 17.4khz in surround sound every time he leaves his house so his brain might of been shook into collapsing.
Don’t you think I’ve forgotten about how thourghly tomblr turned against shapeshifters 2014-2017.
🥩 thing82 Follow
“If you can take a complete human form you’re not a monster because you can pass as human” was a popular take. All the debate wether or not werebeasts and vampires with shifting abilities counted as shapeshifters (they do? WTF?) because the word was so fucking tainted. All the fucking “jokes” about in-between forms being ugly or ungraceful. How even TALKING about shapeshifting in a neutral light was seen as “proof” you were a traitor or something. “Humans don’t hate shapeshifters because they look like them” come the fuck on!
🪱 labilebones Follow
For real it was insidious. It was unreal watching all the funnymonsters drop the gig and say it was “pointless” yeah it was . For you. I got suicide baited and sent pictures of fire and freezers.
🐦⬛ shifter-shifter Follow
And then they moved on to picking on constructs again.
🫁 burstchester Follow
Lmao it always goes back to picking on constructs doesn’t it. Like wtf did they do
found yourself getting blocked for seemingly no reason?
does your profile look like this:
you’re getting blocked because people think you’re a bot
do yourself a favour and change your profile images to literally anything except the defaults. give your blog a name, give yourself a bio even if it simply says “new, figuring this out” or something. please, just do ANYTHING that shows everyone you’re a human. then you wont get blocked anymore and you’ll have a lot more fun here!
oh and while we’re here, another hot tip: reblog things. likes do nothing here, there’s no algorithm
okay happy tumblring tumblrinos, tumblrinas and tumblrinehs!
i think the post may be exploding bc someone pointed out that new users can’t change their profile pic until they follow at least 3 ppl…???
IF that is the case, regardless if you are or are not following at least 3 ppl, that shouldn’t stop you from making a post, like bee said, that says “new here, still figuring everything out!” we don’t WANT to block actual ppl who are trying to get into tumblr and figure out how this site works, we just want to block bots.
Quest unlocked:
This is a Call-Out Post
Dearest followers. You need to change your profile picture!
Reading on Royal Road taught me that “there is nothing new under the sun” attitude I’ve had towards storytelling is not as true as I thought. Sure, I still believe that there’s nothing wrong with using concepts and conventions that others before you have employed. But amateur writers are making new genres as we speak. A few years ago, there was no such thing as Dungeon Core stories. LitRPG was barely a thing until, like, five years ago.
As stories are written, inevitably someone will stumble upon something genuinely new, or a previously not utulised amalgamation of concepts. And people notice this, take it, put a new spin on it, and iteration after iteration, more new concepts emerge. Infinitely.
The past centuries of culture have made and refined the building blocks all fiction writers can now use. And on Royal Road, Scribblehub, and other similar spaces, there are communities of folks who take the pieces from a Lego Millenium Falcon and a few 3d printed details, and build a functional car engine.
*person has consented to being eaten; they’ve donated their body. they died without suffering. you can cook the meat. you will not get sick from the meat.
bonus: explain why!
personal favourite responses thus far
the people who have no moral qualms with cannibalism but but voted no because theyre picky eaters or dont like trying new things
the multiple vegetarians who voted yes
the one (1) person who (rightfully) called out the phrase ‘ethically sourced human meat’ (when i typed that out i had to take a long look at the choices ive made throughout my life)
“ever since i got into pokemon vore i’ve had a huge fascination in cannibalism”
the anime blog who reblogged this post not 5 minutes after my anime fan friend told me that “anime fans LOVE cannibalism”
“if they are my enemy”
and most of all - those who are reblogging without any commentary at all. because having absolutely NO thoughts on cannibalism is more fascinating than any possible response
Nope, the idea that i am eating another human would be terrifying.
But like if anyone else wanted to they should come tell me what is tastes like
The way in which meat was sourced is not really the main factor in whether or not I am willing to eat the flesh of that particular animal. Eating a willing victim would be less horrible than fretting an infant Kronos-style, but that does not make it any less of a geas. Likewise, I would never eat dog meat regardless of its sourcing, but I would absolutely eat elephant flesh, provided I was not supporting poachers in the process.
I think more people need to learn the phrase “I don’t know enough about that to have a strong opinion” its literally a cheat code for awkward conversations
ALT
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