trees are very 🥺 because sometimes i’ll stand under the shade of a tree and look up at it and it’ll sway its branches about in the wind and i’m like oh my God i’m alive and YOU’RE alive. we are alive together and made up of the same starry stuff and standing right next to each other in this moment on this earth. do u feel it when i reach out and press my hand to your trunk? can you hear me? i think you’re so neat. and then the sunlight filters through its leaves just so and that lovely green color leaves me dazzled. it’s just very nice to be an alive thing next to a different sort of alive thing
calm down edgelords, the whole point of society is that it’s not survival of the fittest. literally the point is that we’re leveraging our collective strengths to lead to better outcomes for everyone. we’ve been doing it for a couple thousand years now
The survival strategy our species dumped all its skill points in is cooperation and community. Don’t like it? Walk into the woods and die mad about it.
this is the only reason i get news notifications on my phone
okay but they actually had a very calculated disregard for speed limits?
some of the quick facts:
- average speed of 103mph (165kmh) including the 22.5 minutes of refueling - reached cruise speeds of 160mph (258kmh) - 700 horsepower from various upgrades
- built-in Net Radar radar detector
- windshield-mount Escort Max 360 radar detector - AL Priority laser jammer system - aircraft collision avoidance system
(for finding highway patrol aircraft)
- brake lights and tail lights disabled - vinyl trim used to make the rear lights resemble a honda accord (and not a race-ready mercedes) - 2 ipads for additional police tracking - 2 GPS systems to prove their record
- police scanner - CB radio - 18 spotters along the route to watch for police - and my personal favourite, a roof mounted set of thermal binoculars
And that’s the way to do it.
Kings
I’m amazed they were able to beat the old cannonball record
Apparently, they had cops helping keep the other cops away, they did this by convincing them that they would do it regardless and helping would be safer, and if they set a crazy enough record it would deter other people.
The speed discrepancy between the top speed at almost 200 and average speed of 103 is because they dropped it with other cars nearby, which was also a strategy to not get reported and stopped.
It was not a Mercedes it was an Infiniti Q50 modded with a GT-R drivetrain which was set up for multiple drivers with a MIDDLE seat like a McClaren F1? I cannot find pictures unfortunately.
The original interview says they had a fucking smoke screen if they got chased even. Recommended by his therapist apparently?
I think my favorite part was he is agnostic so he prayed to every god just in case. All of them he could find. Just to cover all the bases.
[This idea has been rattling in my brain and I had to share it.]
I know we all love the ‘humans are space orcs’ concept… but imagine, onboard the new ship they’ve been assigned to, the human meets an actual space orc. A massive monster… fangs and tusks and scars and a battle-hardened stare, looming over all the other life forms on the ship in its thick indestructible armour it refuses to remove. It barely drinks, it doesn’t need sleep, its massive shoulders are heavy with the terrible things it has experienced. Compared to the squishy & delicate human body, this thing is a walking tank.
… Except instead of hating/ignoring one another, the human and the monster start bonding over both coming from death planets. The human is excited to find a life form who doesn’t quiver with fear at the vague description of a jellyfish and the monster is ecstatic to meet someone who understands the feeling of being bitten by a qua’lem (cats are pretty close). They sit together and compare dangerous animals and locations as the other aliens look on in confusion and fear… oh, you also have dense jungles of deadly hidden predators, boiling acid lakes, tamed predatory killers, and areas with horrendously high and low temperatures? Sick!!
It doesn’t take long before the two of them become totally inseparable. The human loves not feeling like some kind of crazy outsider and the monster is overjoyed they’ve finally found an equal in this unkillable marshmallow.
Monster: When I was a youngling, a grol-lik stung straight through my armour. The pain lasted for approximately 16 human hours. Human: Oh yeah man, I get that. As a kid I got a wasp stuck in my shirt. It stung me like four times, it was awful, and all my cousins just laughed at me… Monster: [using their arm screen to research human courting methods] I see.
Not quite an ‘Orc’ per-se, but eh, close enough. See here giant spiky Deathworlder simping for tiny shouty Deathworlder.
The space orc is delighted to finally know a species that, as a whole, does not tend to fear them. if anything, the fact they are large and “scary” looking and designed to survive nearly anything seems to make the humans almost resentful but in a friendly sort of way. The idea that any species can go where humans can’t is taken as a challenge to our very DNA and their homeworld quickly sees a blossoming human tourism industry as humans fling themselves into the most challenging and dangerous of places even the actual orcs consider exploring carefully.
“The introduction of these two species may be, galactically speaking, something akin to an ecological disaster.”
“How so, Puir?” the junior researcher asked, their multifaceted eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Are they dangerous to one another? Humans seem to get along with every species they meet and the Hilammu are known to be a gentle, if physically intimidating, species.”
Puir wobbled their head in the negative expression. “Actually, the problem seems to be that encountering the Hilammu and their world has… exacerbated human predilections.”
Pez gaped for a moment. “But… how is that even–”
“In the past six months three hundred and eight humans have died on Mogru’lam, despite the Hilammu trying to protect them from themselves. The human phrase, ‘Watch this’ has become a meme amongst the Hilammu indicating a likely fatal choice.”
The junior researcher blanched. “But the humans only made contact with the Hilammu eight of their months ago!”
The senior researcher on sentients behavior purred in what was the equivalent of a human sigh of exasperation. “They’ve requested to set up an embassy on Mogru’lam and three dozen Terra-based companies have asked the Hilammu if they can buy land to establish a tourist industry.”
“The humans have become an ecological threat to Mogru’lam?” Pez was horrified. The human history with their own hell-world was well known as a cautionary tale amongst other species.
But instead, Puir’s four eyes blinked furiously and they wobbled a negative response again. “No no no–if anything the humans have made a point of impacting Mogru’lam as little as possible. The threat is to themselves - at this rate, the Hilammu are concerned the humans will develop a death cult based around their planet! They have voiced strong concerns about the humans doing something called ‘base diving’, which is apparently different from a separate complaint of humans ‘free diving’. Also, for reasons which none have managed to explain, they keep trying to climb Gurhorkat.”
“Gurhorkat?”
“It is the tallest and least hospitable mountain on Mogru’lam. It stands at ten kilometers above their sea level, the highest kilometer of which has oxygen too thin for human lungs. The Hilammu keep having to rescue them or retrieve their bodies.”
“That’s terrible!” gaped the junior researcher. “Why would they try such a thing? Hillammu lungs can barely breathe at that altitude, and they modified their species for that trait!”
Puir rubbed their forehead. “Because, and this is a quote from several humans, “you just gotta.’ So you can see the cause for this to be considered our problem.”
The junior researcher felt a bit faint. “I know we must work to preserve all sentient species and their well-being as a matter of galactic ecology but… but maybe some species should be exceptions? Humans seem to survive fine without us despite their best efforts.”
“There is also concern some humans will ask to co-settle with the Hilammu.”
“They can’t be serious.”
“The Hilammu love the humans but they are seeking a sentient ecological protective order for their own good.”
“What have the humans said?”
Again, Puir found themselves rubbing their forehead. “The human ambassador replied, ‘Well, if they don’t want us moving in that’s fine. We’ll settle in the neighboring system.’”
Pez thought for a moment. “There are no habitable planets there. The closest is an M-class that’s less hospitable than Mogru’lam. Oh no.”
That’s a crinoid! Also called sealily or hairstar (at least in german) . They are like an evolutionary step between starfish and sea urchin. There are so many different types of these! It’s so cool!
Oooh
to look upon this, and know it is Animal. That it is nearer to us, in spite of everything, than a mushroom, or a plant.
Somebody needs to install a massage chair in Dr. Mensah’s offices. Not for Dr. Mensah (although she needs it too), but so Murderbot can secretly try it out when the offices are deserted and all the security cameras are diverted.
The first session would be disastrous. Awkward prodding and weird unpleasant sensations as the chair’s manipulators encountered the hard synthetic parts of Murderbot’s back. Some on-the-fly learning of SecUnit anatomy on the chair’s part, while Murderbot grumbled and wondered why humans bothered with this silliness. Then GAH and across the room and WTF WAS THAT, TOO MUCH SENSATION, DO NOT APPROVE, I think I’m having an emotion in my back.
Because Murderbot doesn’t do physical pleasure. I don’t mean sexual pleasure, I mean any kind of physical sensation. After six books of intense personal development, it’s come as far as Showers Are Nice and Couches Are Comfy. Something as small as a proper back rub would send this chronically tense and anxious construct into the stratosphere—if it could handle the sensation, which it couldn’t. The massage chair would be lucky if it didn’t get shot.
Then would come The Weirdness. Several days of stolidly ignoring the chair’s existence and leaving the office any time Mensah used it. There might be blushing. A perceptive onlooker would describe it as “you and I kissed behind the gym at recess and now I have no idea what to do,” except it’s directed at a piece of furniture. Ratthi might end up looking up the massage chair’s specs to see whether the chair has an AI that SecUnit could be communicating with, but there’s no AI to speak of, and now SecUnit is looking at him funny, too.
Eventually, attempt #2. Much gritting of teeth and reminders to itself that it’s been disassembled, torn apart, shot, burned, snd stabbed. It can take a little poking in its organic parts. The sensation isn’t unexpected this time, not as shocking, and Murderbot learns that if it starts to be too much it can lean forward, out of range of the manipulators. It feels silly, arching away from what amounts to an automatic poking machine, when it’s leaned into so many horrible things. But that’s why the security cameras are all being fed a loop of Murderbot watching media on the couch, and ART is in another solar system. Murderbot is alone. It’s safe.
It’s not impressed, though. It’s too tense to enjoy itself. But a hurdle has been crossed, a small challenge conquered.
Attempt #3: Experimentation. The chair’s programming is the height of sophistication for humans, but it has no idea how to handle the joins between a SecUnit’s organic and inorganic parts. It keeps trying this weird rocking-smoothing motion that pinches and aaaaaaaugh. Murderbot delves into the chair’s code to make modifications, and the challenge of creating a secret secondary learning profile, then tweaking it to Murderbot’s satisfaction, keeps Murderbot distracted enough to maybe start enjoying itself. A little.
Three months later: Murderbot boards ART with 900 hours of new stored media and plans for malware that can incapacitate a SecUnit. It works by combining the structure of SecUnit armor with the Unit’s own power source to turn the armor into a full-body TENS unit. The resulting muscle contractions can theoretically send the SecUnit into a full-body, structure-warping seizure.
ART: The under-armor suit will attenuate the signal until it’s barely equivalent to the output of a TENS unit designed for therapeutic massage.
Murderbot: I’m working with what we’ve got. If you want to convince security companies to give SecUnits more conductive skinsuits, be my guest.
ART: There’s a function that prevents it from being triggered during combat.
Murderbot: There’s not enough processing power to run it during combat.
ART: Why are the operating parameters of your anti-SecUnit malware so detailed that it needs that much processing power in the first place?
Murderbot: Reasons.
ART: Why is there a function that puts the malware under the affected Unit’s control?
Murderbot: Whatever. ART, are you going to help me propagate this or not?
Broke: I hate my coworkers so I won’t bother organizing with them
Woke: leftist praxis is run on class lines, not on “a club for people you like” lines. Let the assholes into the union
Bespoke: perhaps people are substituting lefty praxis spaces for social clubs because they don’t have social clubs any more and politics is how they justify their need for human connection. Solidarity feels GOOD and people conflate that with a club for feeling good, which it’s not but bears a slight resemblance to. What I’m saying is we need a union meeting AND bowling
When we’re new to adulthood, it doesn’t immediately occur to all of us that you’re almost always allowed to leave a situation, because growing up we’re forced to stay in situations until someone dismisses us and/or takes us home, or if we do leave on our own accord there’s someone waiting at home to say “we don’t quit in this family!” Boring party? You can leave. You don’t like the lecture? You can walk out. New doctor not working out? You can end the appointment, you don’t need to wait for them to dismiss you. Bad date? You can just go home. Leaving a situation prematurely might have consequences, but unless you’re under arrest or serving prison time, it’s pretty much always allowed.
Duck Prints Press LLC is thrilled to announce that the Kickstarter for our first anthology, Add Magic to Taste, is now live!
For Add Magic to Taste, 20 authors have come together to produce new, original short stories uniting four of our absolute favorite themes: queer relationships, fluff, magic, and coffee shops! Our diverse writers have created an even more diverse collection of stories guaranteed to sweeten your coffee and warm your tart.
Love wlw? So do we!
Love mlm? We’ve got you covered!
Love genderqueer characters? Raise those trans, enby, agender, and other flags high!
Love aces? Same, and we don’t (only) mean playing cards!
Love poly relationships? Hey, we’re sharing a brain!
We won’t say this anthology has it all - there are too many identities in the world for us to fit all of them into one anthology of 20 stories - but if you want some queer fluff and happy feelings, you’ve come to the right place. Add Magic to Taste features characters of different races, ethnicities, sexualities, romanticisms, gender identities, religions, and home nations, united by the common theme of finding someone (or more than one someone) to enjoy a muffin and a cuppa with - for today or for a lifetime, romantically or otherwise!
Each story is never-before-published, approximately 5,000 words long, and features each author’s unique take on our theme. Our beautiful digest-size trade paperback book features cover art by Liz Lee Illustrations (@lizleeillustration on Tumblr - with the potential for more art - see our stretch goals!) and formatting by Hermit Prints (@hermitwrites on Tumblr).
Sign up for our mailing list to make sure you always know the latest!
The Kickstarter for Add Magic to Taste will run through Saturday, August 14th at 11 AM EDT - so follow us here, check it out, and if you want to support an awesome group of writers creating an amazing collection of fluffy queer stories - back our project!
I am so so so so SO proud of my spouse and all the hard work they’ve put into this anthology. They’ve been working basically nonstop for uuuuuuh a while. I’ve done some beta-reading for some of the works in here, and I’m super excited to be able to read everything together.
So if you like queer stories, fluff, coffee shops, and magic? And are able to do the thing? Do the thing!!!
It will be available as an e-book or trade paperback, and there are a ton of cute add-ons as well. Lots of options for backer levels.
Don’t mind me, I’m just squeeing in a corner for a bit!
Fun fact: I’ve been doing this fandom thing for a while.
I mean quite a while. So long, in fact, that I published what might have been the world’s first Transformers ‘zine. Well, I certainly thought it was at the time. It was called Matrix. The first issue came out in 1987 or ‘88 (I can’t be sure now because I didn’t think to put dates on anything back then), and it ran for two issues. I didn’t own a computer at the time, but a friend of my mom’s let me use her Mac Plus. The ‘zine featured art, fiction and other goodies, and considering that I knew next to nothing about layout, it still looks pretty good today. Here is a little tour of the first issue…
The cover, proudly featuring my claim of being first in the world, as well as one of my OCs. The early fandom was really into OCs. Everyone had a Transformer alter-ego, and this was mine. Her name is Spitfire. I was really into WW2 planes at the time, so her altmode is, appropriately enough, a Spitfire.
The all-important disclaimer, hearkening back to the days when fans lived in constant fear of being sued.
Table of Contents…
Editorial page. This is from the days before I was Grayseeker, as you can probably tell, and it features my first attempt at digital art, in the lower right corner. (Sorry about my crap photography, btw. I did my best.)
Mad Lib, Part One, with an illustration by Steven ‘Zigzag’ Acevedo.
Mad Lib, Part Two.
One of my illustrations, for a story called Pilot of the Rockwaves by Steven ‘Zigzag’ Acevedo. This shows his character, ZigZag, having a conversation with Spitfire. (I did mention we were really into OCs, yes?)
Not only were we really into creating OCs, but creating character profiles for them was a pretty big deal too!
Spitfire’s Tech Specs, Part 2.
Every publication should have a Classifieds section, and Matrix 1 was no exception.
Classifieds Part 2. The car that appears in these hallowed pages is my own vehicle at the time, who also (naturally!) had a Transformers alter-ego named Electrofox, which I shortened to “Foxy.”
Last but certainly not least, my illustration of Starscream at the bar.
Hope you enjoyed this little glimpse of fannish history!
Oh that’s great! There are many pictures of this type of lock around, but when it comes to locks, you need a video/gif to illustrate how it works, right?
This is ye olde pin tumbler lock, an
Egyptian (c.2000 BCE)
improvement of an older Assyrian (c.4000 BCE) design:
It spread out from Egypt and it was used for thousands of years. The modern ubiquitous Yale lock is also called a pin tumbler, since it’s an elaborate (and tubular) version of the same basic concept.
“There are no female aliens in our game because we don’t know how to make a female version of this alien” You know that alien you just designed? That male alien? Give it a female voice actor and have characters refer to it as she. That’s it. That’s literally all you have to do
Make her shorter if you must
Make her BIGGER if you aren’t a coward
Take your male alien bodytype, make her like 4 feet taller, give her an extra set of arms and sharper teeth, and as muscular as shit.
