#constriction software

[jasir08]

How DoFort Construction Software Is Transforming the Construction Business in the UAE

The construction industry in the UAE is experiencing a significant digital transformation, with DoFort Construction Software being instrumental in this change. Given the swift urban development, large-scale infrastructure initiatives, and a fiercely competitive landscape, construction firms in the UAE require more than just manual processes to maintain their competitive edge. Software solutions such as DoFort are empowering businesses to optimize their operations, manage resources effectively, and guarantee timely project completion while maintaining comprehensive cost control.

DoFort Construction Software is transforming construction operations throughout the UAE, assisting companies in scaling with accuracy and profitability.

Why Construction Companies in the UAE Need Advanced Construction Software

The construction sector in the UAE encounters distinct challenges, including intense competition, variable material prices, intricate regulatory structures, and the management of personnel. Dependence on spreadsheets and uncoordinated systems may result in project delays, budget overruns, and compliance complications.

Construction software offers a unified, integrated platform that links all facets of a construction project—from design to completion. By utilizing DoFort Construction ERP software, businesses in the UAE can address these operational hindrances through real-time oversight, automation, and analytical insights.

What is DoFort Construction Software?

DoFort Construction Software is an all-encompassing, cloud-based ERP solution specifically designed for construction companies in the UAE. It aims to oversee all facets of a construction enterprise, including.

Project Planning and Scheduling

Inventory and Procurement

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Site Operations

HR and Payroll for Workforce

Document and Compliance Management

Key Features of DoFort Construction ERP Software

1. Project Management and Tracking:

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Monitor each dirham expended through integrated cost estimation and management features. Remain within budget while enhancing material and labor expenses to increase profitability.

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5. HR and Payroll Integration:

Oversee the attendance, payroll, work hours, and compliance of the construction workforce in a single location—customized to adhere to UAE labor law regulations.

6. Document Control and Compliance:

Maintain audit preparedness through digital document storage and access management. Effortlessly monitor expiration dates for permits, safety inspections, and regulatory approvals.

Tailored for UAE-Based Construction Companies

What distinguishes DoFort is its ability to be customized locally. The software is designed specifically for construction businesses in the UAE, accommodating multi-currency transactions, providing support for the Arabic language, ensuring VAT compliance, and addressing regional workflow needs.

Regardless of whether you are a contractor, developer, or a firm specializing in construction project management, DoFort equips you with the necessary tools to thrive and excel in the rapidly evolving market of the UAE.

Future-Ready Construction ERP Software

As the construction industry in the UAE adopts smart cities, green buildings, and digital transformation, possessing strong construction ERP software is not merely optional—it is crucial.

DoFort is tailored to ensure your company is prepared for the future with its cloud capabilities, mobile accessibility, and AI-driven insights. It facilitates a shift from reactive to proactive management in construction.

In Conclusion:

The construction sector in the UAE is experiencing significant growth; however, only those companies that adopt digital transformation will maintain a competitive edge. DoFort Construction Software enables construction firms to enhance their operational management, lower expenses, and complete high-quality projects more swiftly.

If you are a construction company located in the UAE seeking to optimize your operations and increase efficiency, it is the right moment to consider DoFort.

Schedule your complimentary demo today and discover how our construction ERP software can revolutionize your business.

[jetblack4realz]

take off my clothes - jacaerys velaryon

we're back with more modern jace lol

a take on the tiktok trend of "babe take off my clothes" and he's actually wearing her clothes lol

word count: 800 - short but fun

______________________________________________________________

jace walked around your shared room, workout shorts hanging off his hips and his hair still damp from the shower he'd just wrapped up. he eyed you at your desk, editing the pictures you'd taken last weekend and deciding which ones would be adequate for posting. he grabbed at the pile of clean laundry you'd neglected to fold, pulling a random grey tshirt over his head.

you turned when you heard his quiet 'hmph', a small smile growing on your lips as you watched him glance in the mirror. the shirt was tighter and shorter than normal, and the bow design on the front definitely wasn't his usual style.

"wrong shirt?" you wondered with a laugh.

"wrong shirt..." he grumbled, moving his arms in order to keep the sleeves from constricting his arms so much.

"take it off," you instructed softly, laughing as he raised his arms again. "i don't want you stretching it out."

he looked in the mirror again, meeting your eyes as you reached out towards him. he turned with a grin, stepping to you and letting you grab his hands and pull him closer, the boy nearly bumping into your knees. you tugged at the edges of the stretchy shirt, smiling up at him.

he let out a slow chuckle, leaning down slightly to look at you and grabbing your hands. "well, why are you allowed to wear my clothes if i'm not allowed to wear yours?"

"because," you whined, the word dragging slowly from your lips. "you're stretching it."

"and now you're calling me fat," he accused with a breathy laugh, the amused smile on his lips making your heart jump and your eyes roll.

"i'm calling you big. that's a good thing, love," you answered. you squeezed his hands before pulling at the shirt again. "so please, jacaerys, my love - take it off."

he breathed out a laugh, stepping back as he eyed you. he reached down and took hold of the hem, pulling it over his head, exposing his upper half.

there was an instant redness that flushed your cheeks, your gaze going from his abs to his eyes in moments, embarrassment riddled in your smile.

you held his hands for a few moments, trying to keep your eyes in his, and actively failing. he laughed as you struggled to keep your eyes from roaming, your blush deepening and a scoff exiting your lips. you finally pushed him back, turning in your chair back to the pictures you were editing.

“go away. just because you’re hot doesn’t mean you can make it an issue,” you mumbled as your blush deepened, beginning to click away on the editing software for the pictures you and your best friend had taken the weekend before.

he grinned, following your movements and pressing his chest into your back as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, mumbling in your ear: "is that so?"

you made a half effort to push him away, hand remaining on his chest as you rolled your eyes.

"you're exposed jace. put on a shirt - one of your own this time."

he could see the small smile pulling at her lips and the way her touch lingered definitely inclined him to another opinion. he smirked. "why would i do that when you're clearly enjoying the view?"

you blushed deeper, but finally gained some of your confidence, turning in his direction and feeling his breath on your skin. you looked him up and down, eyes lingering on the toned muscles of his abs, but more so on the lean lines of his biceps. you loved his arms, and you loved how vascular they were as well.

you trailed your fingers up his arms, resting on his biceps as you smiled up at him.

“you have a point.” you hummed. “but, you wanted these pictures to post and i won’t get them finished if you do not put on a shirt.”

he leaned down with a grin, lips hovering over yours as he steadied himself on the arms of your chair. your hands remained on his now tense arms, heart pulsing at the smile on his lips.

"i don't need the pictures tonight. i'm happy to post later," he hummed. he grinned as you eyed him.

"i'm not happy to post them later," you said, turning the chair suddenly and causing him to stumble, catching himself on the back of it. he was quick to recover, propping himself up as she worked on the photos. he hummed as he leaned to press a kiss to her neck, earning a laugh. "don't think you're gonna get something after wearing my clothes. you're not allowed to wear my clothes."

"oh, but i love taking them off," he said with a teasing smirk.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

thanks for reading! leave a request in the comments or message me privately! i love writing, so if you've got an idea you need fleshed out on paper i'd love to be the one to do that for you

masterlist!!

[grapenamjams]

Ghost!707 Drabble

Ghost!707 that lives in the apartment you just moved into.

He didn’t think that existing in the in-between could get worse. He was wrong. Of course it could. being Bound to falling in love with you but never being able to hold you or being in your constant proximity but never truly being with you.- Was an immensely worse.

Ghost!707 wouldn’t make himself known for awhile. The first time he ever tried messing with your plane of existence was when he couldn’t stay back and watch that one time where you had thought you lost an important work document.

Sitting next to you on the couch unknown to you. Ghost!707 looked at you as you flopped your head back on the back of the couch with your hands over your face letting out a curse.

He had seen you slave away on that document for days. His chest aching each time he saw you stay up so late and not eating full meals. Although he thought himself a hypocrite in those moments since he wasn’t a great example of self care when he was alive. but point is he hated seeing you do it.

So he couldn’t have your hard work go down the drain like that knowing he could do something for once.

Quickly while you were occupied wallowing in frustration and misery. Thinking of what you were going to tell your team come tomorrow. Ghost!707 pressed his lips into a thin line, focusing all his concentration in making the damn mouse move and keys work on your laptop.

He recovers the document just before you sat up straight again. Swearing you felt a wave of cold air rush infront of you. But before dwelling to much on the fact that the AC wasn’t on. Staring back at you was your work document. You’re stunned for a moment as relief rushes through you. The smile and laugh you let out makes Ghost!707 dead heart flutter.

After that Ghost!707 tampers with your electronics. Fixing bugs, making your stuff run faster and you even find out that there was a protection encryption software you don’t remember downloading.

He even starts typing out random sentences. Leaving them on your doc or phone for you to find. your reactions amusing to him at his outlandish sayings.

When you finally come to terms that there is indeed a ghost haunting your apartment. You both establish an effective form of communication, leaving a word document up on your laptop watching the text cursor move on its own with answers from him.

On the day where the veil of the sprite realm gradually dissipates. The coldness you’ve come to expect over your shoulder as you worked. Suddenly changes to a slight passing chill making you Turn. Coming face to face with golden eyed-red haired guy.

Ghost!707 eyes widen behind his frames, realizing you were looking at him, directly at him. you’re eyes take him in. your surprise reflecting his as he takes a step back right as you jump from your chair not from fear but more from shock.

Raising his hands infront of him to show you no harm. “Hey…woah” he stops himself. Sensing a sort of heaviness to him he hadnt felt in awhile. He looks at his hands, his appearance had become less transparent. He lets out a breath his chest constricting in excitement and hesitation. He looks up at you “you see me? You can actually see me?”

[bisouxobeso]

All Roads Lead Home ★ Cassian Andor/Reader ★ Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Summary: You are the lead surgeon in the Rebellion base, but when a mission requires your return to your home planet, Kenari, you and Captain Andor must go undercover as a newlywed couple.

Pairings: Cassian Andor/Reader

Tags: Fake Marriage ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Slow Burn ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Mutual Pining ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Teasing ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Eventual Smut ࣪ ִֶָ☾.Emotional Hurt/ Comfort ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Slight Angst ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Jealousy ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Nicknames in Spanish ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Not Cannon Complacent ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Tags Subject to Change ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Dirty Talk ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Porn with Plot

Author's Note: I wrote this instead of sleeping oops.

Content Warnings: dirty talk, jealousy, teasing no smut yet but has the same warnings as smut

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The ship was nearly minutes away from Kenari, and you had just finished applying your makeup. The dress you were wearing squeezed you in all the right places, the small straps draped the tops of your arms, exposing your shoulders and half of your back. Extra fabric flowed along the backside. It was tight, uncomfortable, and red? “Really? It’s a little racy for a palace.” You mumbled, taking a step back and hopping slightly to get a better look from the crappy refresher mirror.

“You look fine,” Cassian noted walking towards you, barley looking up from that damned data pad, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. “Just wanted to let you know we’re here.” 

“Kriff, you scared me.” You fretted, adjusting your diadem, “Okay, well, I’m ready, Capt- I mean, Cassian.”

Cassian nodded, walking away without saying a word. It took everything in him not to look up from his device; he hadn’t had a chance to control his reaction and felt an inexplicable fear of that dress you were wearing and how your lips coordinated with the color, or how soft the space looked between where your lower back and the fabric met. Alright, so maybe he took a small peek.

You walked out of the refresher and sighed, taking the tiniest constricted steps. Cassian met you at the ship exit, his hand stretched out, you took it, feeling embarrassed at how clammy it must have felt. You looked up at him, and for the first time that day, your eyes met. His usually disheveled hair was gelled down, a few pieces of his bangs escaping, framing his face. He was freshly shaven, and his black dress robes were newly pressed; the small cape that draped his shoulders made him almost look taller. He looked good, as much as you hated to admit it.

“Okay. A few things before we go, one, assume they’re always listening, let me check the room for bugs before you break character. And two, listen to my every order, no matter what. Can you manage that?” He commanded, as you began to understand why his troops feared him so much.

“Yes, I can.” You nodded, determination in your eyes.

“Good.”

K-2SO pressed the ship's door latch and stepped out, announcing your arrival. It helped that he was an imperial droid, which further established your cover. Though K-2 refused to lie, Cassian had installed in him a software specifically for this mission; for the time being, K-2 was a big, clunky metal liar who was undercover as Cassian’s Imperial droid. 

“Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Andor of Kenari!” K2 boomed at the onlookers who were gathering on the pasture floor. The band began playing as you and Cassian took the first step down. You could see the king from the ship’s stairs; his chubby cheeks were red, from the strain of clapping and cheering, a younger man with hair the color of hay stood next to him, a scowl on his face.

Cassian stepped down first and took you by the waist, carrying you down. You felt the warmth of his calloused hands through the delicate fabric of your dress. He was gentle, more gentle than you imagined he could ever be.  “Oh!” You yelped, “Thank you.” You giggled, throwing your head back as you realized you were still in his arms. 

The crowd cheered at the candid display of affection. “You can put me down now,” you whispered in his ear, the heat of your exhalation causing him to slightly quiver.

“Right…” he stammered, putting you down slowly. Your heels touching the spongy grass. He held your hand again, and you sauntered past the crowd to your Godfather. You began to curtsy, but he pulled you in for a hug before you could even bend down. 

“Oh my child! Mija! How I’ve missed you!” he exclaimed, the jiggle of his belly shaking as he hugged you even tighter if that was possible, “Don’t even think of pulling all that formal ‘your majesty’ crap around here okay? ¡Esta es tu casa! This is your home!”

“I’m sorry, Padrino, thank you for having us,” you gushed.

“Come, come, let’s go inside, the weather is too cloudy and sad for such a joyful occasion. Plus, I want to meet your new racer husband!” His hand motioned, and with that slight hand movement, the crowd parted, and the troopers marched. You and Cassian followed; the man with the scowl and yellow hair, trailing behind. ‘He looks so familiar,’ you thought.

Once inside, the palace was all gold, marble, and stone. It was big and beautiful, just like you remembered. You walked past the grand staircase, through the halls, and into the dining hall where a giant feast lay on the table, several servants greeting you, pulling out chairs for guests to sit on.

“I figured you guys must be starving after all those pre-packaged flight meals.” The king chortled, “I had the kitchen prepare a traditional Kenari meal while we caught up.” 

Your eyes lit up looking at all the different dishes you hadn’t tried in years, tears threatening an escape from your eyes. Maker, how you had missed home. You secretly wished you had done this sooner or under different circumstances. Guilt coursed through your veins. You turned to Cassian, who sat next to you, his eyes were glassy, dark, and sanguine. You couldn’t even imagine what he must have been thinking.

“Well! Dig in then!” Your Godfather declared. You were shy at first, reaching for the spoons and serving tiny portions on your plate, but after a few cups of revnog, the conversation began flowing, and the formalities began disappearing. Even Cassian was laughing and cracking jokes with your Godfather.

The blond-haired man slinked from his chair next to the king to the empty one next to you. “You don’t remember me, do you?” He slurred his words as he scanned you up and down, the clear liquid sloshing in his goblet

“I’m sorry, it’s been kind of chaotic.” You shrugged, your eyelashes feeling heavy and your head slightly lighter, from the copious amount of drinks.

“I’ll give you a clue.” He took a spoon from your plate, licked it, and stuck it on his nose, chuckling drunkenly. Memories of childhood flashed through your minds. How you and the king's son would hang out every day as children while your parents and the king dealt with political affairs.

“Tenok!” you shrieked, giggling, “It’s been so long, you look so different!” You smiled and threw your arms around him, giving him a solid hug. His hands snaked their way to your back, lowering to that soft space between your lower back and the fabric. Cassian’s teeth gritted, his fist rolled into a ball under the table, his knuckles turning white from the grip. With his other hand, he moved his chalice to his lips while rolling his eyes.

The king, too drunk to notice anything, gleefully exclaimed, “Finally, these two recognize each other!” He laughed boisterously and turned to Cassian, “You know they would play for hours every day, practically tearing this palace down. Her parents, uh, my best friends, and I always thought they would have ended up married.” He laughed again and took another sip, his laugh becoming a strained raspy set of coughs.“Well, I think it is time for me to turn in, I’m not a young man anymore.” He inched closer to Cassian and whispered, “I told the help to clear the room at the other end of the palace, it’s the farthest from my chambers, I don’t wanna hear anything I shouldn’t! Ask her how to get to it, she’ll know.” The king patted Cassian’s shoulder and stood up, slowly waddling away.

Once it was just you three in the vast dining hall, Cassian decided you two should probably head to the room and begin sweeping for bugs before bed. “Amor,” he began, but was quick to assume he was completely ignored, seeing you seemingly too enthralled in your conversation with Tenok. In reality, you weren’t used to him, or anyone for that matter, calling you such a loving pet name, so your instinct wasn’t to turn. Cassian grumbled your name, and your head turned to face him. “I think we should turn in, too. It’s getting late.” 

“Yes. Of course.” You nodded, excusing yourself goodnight and standing.

“I’m just gonna sit here and finish my drink, goodnight…” Tenok slurred, purring your name, in a way that, for some reason, made Cassian want to go up to him and punch him square in the face.

Cassian walked you to the dining hall exit, his hand moved to your waist, sliding down to just above your ass. He made sure to turn before exiting, shooting a quick smirk at Tenok. You giggled sultrily at the unexpected touch, still very tipsy.

Once you were outside, the vast hallway looked overwhelming to Cassian. “The king said our room was the farthest from his chambers,” he said.

“Ah,” you hiccuped, “the honeymoon suite.”

“The what?”

“The honeymoon suite,” you repeated.

“Why the hell is it called that?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t really think about it when I was nine— but if I had to guess, it’s probably because it's the room with the most privacy in the entire palace. I think the only rooms nearby are the guard’s quarters and Tenok’s chamber.” You guided him the long way across the palace to the honeymoon suite. Running your fingers through the marble walls.

Cassian closed the door behind you and held up a finger to his mouth. You remembered what he had told you before you left the ship and nodded. He bent down and whispered so quietly you barely heard him, “follow my lead.” You nodded and sat on the king-sized bed, trying to still your dizziness. Your heart skipped a beat when you thought about the sleeping conditions of the night.

“You like that?” Cassian said loudly to no one, kneeling on the floor and looking under the bed frame. His voice was different, gruffer, thicker, seductive. He stood up when he found nothing and looked at you in the eyes, “Moan for me, baby.” He groaned with a deadpan face. Your eyes widened, and you choked slightly, raising your eyebrows at him. He circled his hands motioning you to do as you were told, “Come on, Amor, moan for me like you did on our wedding night.”

Your face flushed the same color as your dress, and you shook your head. Surely, he didn’t expect you to actually do that?  Cassian gave you a stern look, and you let out a very meek whine. He gestured with his hands again, signaling you to be more enthusiastic, and you felt your stomach drop, a searing, intense feeling rushing through your body, the spot between your thighs feeling slippery. ‘Why was he torturing you? And why in the Universe was he so good at dirty talking? You thought. But he was your captain, and his orders had to be followed. So, you let the liquid courage from dinner pulse through your bloodstream, and you moaned. Loud. And you did it again, even louder.

Cassian gave you a thumbs up, and he walked to the Armoire, his fingers tracing for bugs, “Come on, hermosa, show me how much you want me to slip that pretty dress off.” 

“Kassa, please, I need it so bad!” You yelled, exaggerated, and covered your mouth to stifle your nervous, drunken laughter.

Cassian turned towards you upon hearing his nickname, and rolled his eyes; his tanned face had a red tint. And he quietly shifted, feeling his pants growing tighter. He groaned, sounding a little too realistic. He continued searching, moving his way to the large, plush bed where you were sitting. His body was close to yours as you kept releasing a medley of sounds. He stretched to the back of the headboard, his robe shirt lifting slightly, and his stomach brushed against your lips, his happy trail tickling your mouth. You accidentally moaned into it, and he fell back into the nightstand, shocked, at the tickling sensation. The lamp on the nightstand fell with a loud crash. You gasped, unable to hold it in.

Cassian didn’t skip a beat. His eyes quickly looked back and forth, and within seconds, he yelled, “Yeah, you like it rough, huh?” he pushed the rest of the items on the nightstand to the floor. 

“Yes, Cassian! Yes! Just like that!” You yelled in response, reminding yourself not to get all hot and bothered; it was just a part of the mission, nothing personal.

He kneeled on the floor, looking through the various broken pieces of machinery scattered on the tiles.“You like how hard I fuck you don’t you?” He practically growled. If this was just acting, he was very good at it.

Cassian smiled as he lifted a small disk from the floor. To the normal person, it looked like just a hardware piece from a broken lamp, but you knew what it was, and you smiled back at Cassian, relieved and slightly disappointed this was over, but then Cassian's lips transformed into a dark grin as he remembered Tenok’s room was next door. By this time, he should’ve finished his drink and was probably lying in bed, hearing all of this commotion, and that brought an unexplainable satisfaction to Cassian. “You wanted me so bad during dinner, didn’t you? You were practically undressing me with your eyes. I'm gonna cum inside, I want you to take it like a good girl!” He announced, louder than necessary, letting the echo travel across the room.

Your head whipped down to look at Cassian, a bewildered shock in your eyes. He dropped the bug and stomped on it with the heel of his boot, a smug smirk on his face, "coast is clear." He said in a hushed tone.

You nodded, in the absence of words. What was even there to say after that? Cassian turned towards you, his face returning to that oh-so-serious-captain-face you had often thought about sucker punching. "Listen to me, pretty soon, someone is going to notice the microphone in our room is broken, so a guard is going to knock on our door and ask some questions, I need you to look like we've just…" He trailed off, seemingly embarrassed all of a sudden. 'What the hell happened to that dirty mouth?' you wondered.

You nodded, your hands messing with your hair, throwing your headpiece on the floor, you remembered what Cassian had said earlier about removing your 'pretty dress', so you got under the covers, and shimmied your dress off, letting it fall to the floor. The fit of the dress was too tight to allow for underwear, adding yet another layer of humiliation.

Cassian, who was ruffling his own hair, looked down at you with wide eyes and red cheeks, noticing how your arm held on to the bed sheets covering your chest. He turned away quickly, and shucked his shirt off. Your eyes trailed down to his broad shoulders, his back was toned, and several small lines were littered across his tanned skin. Your eyes focused on a particularly gnarly one on his side, and you immediately recognized it as the one you had stitched and repaired. You admired your work, the scar was healing beautifully. 'Of course it was, the best doctor in the rebellion did it.'

Like clockwork, a knock thundered on the door, jumping you out of your thoughts. Cassian walked towards you. You felt exposed, the way Cassian stared at you, his hand stretched to your lips, smudging your lipstick and placing the leftover on his lips. The knock came again, louder and aggressive. "Kiss my neck," he said urgently, and you complied, absent-mindedly trailing down to his chest without his command, and planting one in the middle. "That's enough, thank you." He cleared his throat and walked towards the door, unbuttoning his pants. The heat in your stomach was relentless, and you felt embarrassed at how soaked you must've been leaving the bed covers.

Cassian opened the door and was greeted by a man in Imperial clothing, "I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Andor, but we heard some strange noises, and we're concerned about you and your wife's safety." The main said, sounding monotone and official, "Do you mind if I step in to asses the situation?"

"We're a little indisposed at the moment," Cassian countered, his eyes pointing to you lying in the bed, with a flushed tint on your face. You gave a sheepish smile to the guard who could perfectly see you from his eyeline.

"I understand. It will only take a moment, it's for your own safety." The man stepped in without invitation, brushing past Cassian, inspecting the room. He looked at K-2, who was shut down in a chair, and walked towards the bed frame, where all its contents were spilled on the floor. He kneeled to further inspect.

"Sorry about that, it got a little wild." Cassian jibed.

"So I see," The man said, his tone uncomfortable, lifting himself with his knee and walking to the door. "Well, nothing seems out of the ordinary, you folks have a good night." He adjusted his cap and closed the door behind him, clearly in a rush to leave the sex-crazed newlyweds.

"Okay." Cassian said, relief flooding his body, "We're safe for tonight, but from now on, assume the only place to talk is outside the palace or in the ship." His eyes lingered on the bedsheets covering your body.

You shifted, self-consciously, "Got it."

Had this actually just happened? You closed your eyes as you thought about the fact that in the span of twenty minutes, you had fake sex with your superior, who you weren't aware had such a filthy mouth. Not to mention how you were interrogated by an Imperial guard, who looked at you with such disgust, practically slit shaming you with his eyes. And this was barely the first night? You secretly wished for the room to swallow you whole.

Your hands nervously moved to a strand of hair, the bedsheets slipping down, exposing your chest. You yelped and yanked the bedsheets back up, too scared to look up at Cassian, who you knew had witnessed the whole thing. You swallowed nervously, "Um, Captain, could you pass me my sleeping gown, it's, uh, on the chair next to K-2."

"Uhm, y-yes," Cassian mumbled, his legs moving before his brain could process it. He made a subtle grab of a pillow and held it against his hips. He took your sleeping gown and threw it at you, excusing himself to the refresher. After hearing the shower turn on and assuming you were going to be alone for a while, you quickly scrambled out of bed to put on your clothes. You screamed as a sharp metal shard from the lamp impaled your foot. You dropped to the floor and held your bleeding foot.

Cassian ran out of the refresher, shirtless with only a towel wrapped around his waist, steam escaping through the door, "What happened?" He implored. Water droplets falling from his hair.

You heard his footsteps racing towards you, and you peeked your head out from the bed, "No, no, no, don't come over here, I'm still naked, it's nothing to worry about! Just a small cut." You slipped on your sleeping gown quickly and stood up, limping towards the table where your suitcase was, and grabbed your medpac. Hobbling towards the now-empty refresher, closing the door behind you, too embarrassed to say anything, leaving Cassian standing there, soaking wet with his mouth agape.

By the time you got out of the shower, with your foot bandaged and your nightdress finally on for the night, Cassian was sitting with K-2, playing some card game. He turned towards you with a slightly annoyed look, "If you're going to steal someone's shower, at least make it quick."

"Right, sorry." You mumbled, rolling onto bed, fully sober and extremely sleepy. Cassian grumbled something in Kenarian, too low for you to hear, and stepped into the refresher. When he got out of the bathroom, the room was fully dark, K-2 was powered off, and you were fast asleep, sprawled on the bed. Cassian chuckled, moving your leg to your side and lying down, noticing how deep of a sleeper you were. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

—

You woke in the morning, unsure of what time it was. It must have been early because the light that shone through the curtains was faint, the only sound that was emitted from the room was the chirping of birds outside, and Cassian's soft snoring in your ear. Cassian. Snoring. In your ear? Your eyebrows lifted, and you became aware of his strong arm wrapped around your waist. You felt the hair on his chest tickle your back, as his hips lightly thrusted into the small of your back. 'Is he seriously sleep humping me?'

You cleared your throat loudly, and Cassian woke up choking on his snores. You pretended to be asleep, as Cassian sat up and looked at your face, his warmth and sweat unsticking from your body. You shivered at the chilly air, and he lifted the bed sheets to your chest. You smiled as he rose from the bed and made his way to the refresher.

Today was going to be a long day.

Chapter 4 ↸

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

taglist: @bigolidioot

[max1461]

As a method of structuring texts, the linear sequence is most traditional. This is largely due to the technical limitations of ink and paper. But I think the wholly linear approach is almost certainly too constrictive as a way to present information. In modern times we have the wiki, which is organized as an arbitrary directed graph. This is, I think, a little better, but it can be incredibly overwhelming and difficult to get one's footing in. I think a middle ground would probably be optimal for most purposes, something like a tree or perhaps an arbitrary DAG.

Actually, what I would really like to see is text organized as a "weak DAG": the actual sections or chapters organized into a tree, with cross-references allowed to breach the tree structure (but discouraged from doing so excessively, so as to prevent it from becoming a de facto wiki).

It would be wonderful if there was some kind of software implementation of this "tree-structured text" idea, but I do not know of one. Does such a thing exist?

[punk-octo]

A Happy Memory - Commission Day

Here is the happy Flieder memory as promised! See? I can be nice to her. Enjoy!

5:59 AM read on the clock as Flieder opened her groggy eyes. With a groan, she stretched her arm over the bedside table. Just as the clock struck six, she pressed the button on the top, making it so that it only sounded for a millisecond. She reached up to turn on the lamp next to it, its warm light making her pupils constrict as she sat up with a stretch. Her ‘dormitory’ was actually a small, wood-trimmed, wallpaper-lined office down in the worker quarters of the manor, given to her when she was first promoted a couple of hundred cycles ago. Though, with a few sweet sayings to some stronger units and the help of her friends, Flieder moved a bed and some furnishing in the corner as soon as she could.* She slung her hooves over to have them touch the cold wooden floors. They weren’t lacquered like the expensive floor in the library above her head but she couldn’t imagine stepping on stone or concrete like in some facilities she’s heard horror stories about. She stands up and walks a few cramped steps over to her desk, grabbing a marker and crossing out the day on the calendar. ‘November 19th, time to go to work.’ Flieder puts down the marker and begins her day as she always does. First, she turns her attention to the now rather large lilac bush on the far left corner of the desk with a spray bottle and a trimming tool next to it. She smiles as she picks up the bottle and waters it, taking note that the plant has already been trimmed for the week. At 6:10, Flieder is on the old computer software triple-checking the schedules. Each section was color-coded exactly as she wanted it to be. The cleaning staff had cool colors, the kitchen staff had warm, and the gardening staff had monochromes. Those black and whites were originally bright neon but after a few too many warnings and eventual punishment for wasting printer ink, Flieder sadly has to change it. No matter though, everything was perfect for this week. Flieder notices that they may get some break time since her girls have been marking a 2% increase in work efficiency. She’ll have to organize an event of some type to reward their hard work. By 6:30, Flieder was out of her chair and doing her hair in her small hanging mirror. She had to stand while doing it, her small space not allowing her to add another chair but she didn’t mind at all, at least it was hers. Her hair has always been a bit longer than the other Eules, growing faster and a bit thicker due to some manufacturing mistake. She used to just cut it to be uniform with the rest of the staff but after some encouragement, she decided that it was too much effort just to not stand out. With five brushes on four different sections, Flieder pulls her hair back into a small bun and gives a smile, time to wake the others. She waits at the door for exactly 6:45 before she takes a deep breath and opens it, planning to head down the hall to the larger dormitories. As she swings open the door though, it seems as though her co-workers are already waiting for her, eules, aras, and at least one starling. Flieder’s eyes widen with shock before they all shout out. “SURPRISE!!!”

“GAH!” Flieder stumbled back as her heart leaped to her throat, startled. A few poppers went off as she saw the same faceplate as hers smiling wide at her. Her rear hit her desk, shaking the things on it as the shouting erupted into cheers.

One of the eules she’s known for almost her entire life, Juli, pipes up. “Oh come on Flea! Don’t tell me you don’t know!”

Flieder looks at her as she’s practically dragged into the hall to see everyone else, wracking her brain. “What? We don’t have anything like this on the schedule today!”

Another eule with a dimple on her right cheek, Grübchen, takes her hand, leading her down the hall like a parade. “I told you she’d forget!”

The posse behind her talks loudly as Flieder is pulled into the worker’s dining area. The old tables had been rearranged in the center of the room and a tablecloth had been thrown around them. Makeshift paper streamers lined the walls and flowers from the garden were around as decoration. In the center of the tables was a large raspberry cheesecake, Flieder’s favorite, with three words written on it.

“Happy Commission Day!” The crowd exclaimed as Flieder’s mind finally clicked with a large smile.

Flieder laughs as she is ushered to sit down at the table “Oh revolutionary, I guess it is! You all did this for me? You didn’t have to go through all of the effort-”

An Ara cut her off as she pushed in her chair from behind “Nuh uh, none of that. You got us all something for ours, it’s only fair.”

Flieder looks around at her co-workers as they all wait for her reaction to all of this. Flieder Looks down at the cake and laughs as she goes to cut it. “Well, I suppose a small party before work wouldn’t hurt.”

Everyone sighs in relief as they begin to enjoy themselves at the party, most coming up to give Flieder a small bit or bobble as a gift. The cake is divine as Flieder eats it and relaxes before Juli comes up to her with a grin on her face. “You know Flea, this was all Mohn’s idea.” She wiggles her eyebrows as the other Eule in earshot giggle a bit. Flieder cocks an eyebrow as she swallows a bite.

“Mohn? She’s supposed to be off-planet, no? I thought she was working for at least another week.” Flieder looks around the room, the ARAR was nowhere to be found at the party.

Juli’s grin only grows larger as she leans in. “Well, I’m technically supposed to keep this a secret until after the party but,” She puts a hand up but ‘whispers’ loud enough for everyone at the table to hear, “She took time off and is waiting in the study with a bottle of wine. Just for youuuu~.” Her tone was similar to that of a teenage girl gossiping as all the other eules around Flieder let out a small ‘ooooooo’ at the gossip.

Flieder’s eyes light up and a blush dusts her cheeks. “She’s here? Now? Why didn’t anyone tell me!”

"Because it was a surprise! Super romantic, I’m jealous.” Juli takes the name empty plate from in front of Flieder and looks around the party.

“You can sneak out to see her if you want, you got a whole day off!” Flieder looks around the party, feeling a bit bad for leaving so early but her heart jumps at the idea of running up to the study as quick as she can. She nods and gives everyone a quick thank you before doing exactly that. —

Flieder gave three small knocks on the large study doors before opening them. The study was by far her favorite room in the manor. A large comfortable sofa sat in front of a lit hearth as a familiar form finished pouring two glasses of wine. With her hair handsomely gelled back, her ARAR lover looked up at her with a smile.

“Sorry, I guess I’m a bit early.” Flieder said with a smile as she locked the door behind her and stepped closer.

“Nah, it’s alright, I knew Juli wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.” Mohn replied in her more casual dialect, which Flieder adored. With grace, she stepped forward to close the gap between the two of them and gently grabbed the eule’s waist, pulling her close. With a small laugh, Flieder reached up to wrap her arms around Mohn’s neck, tilting her head up to meet the Ara’s lips. The two melted into the kiss as the fireplace crackled and Flieder smiled against her mouth. Mohn pulled away and pressed her forehead to her lover’s.

“Happy Commission Day.”

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

"Hi, my name is Shape. I started identifying as transgender at 22 while still in college. Before that, I was just a feminine gay man.

Being asked about my pronouns led me to research transgender ideology, and pretty quickly I got convinced that I was [a] transgender woman.

I was able to get hormones relatively easily through Fenway Health and was only on them for a year before receiving facial feminization and breast augmentation surgeries at 23.

Taking hormones actually worsened my mental health, but therapists thought that it was because I was stuck in the wrong body. They cleared me for sex-reassignment surgery by diagnosing me with Gender Identity Disorder.

Immediately after SRS, I was super-excited to start a new life. I was happy for a few months while recovering, however soon I realized that my new part wasn't what doctors promised me.

My neo vagina started constricting despite rigorous dilation, which resulted in me developing vaginal stenosis. This left me unable to have penetrative sex, which adversely impacted my mental health. I also lost my sex drive, my motivation to achieve anything, and became brain-fogged and lethargic.

I had multiple unsuccessful revisions attempting to get a few inches of neo vaginal tunnel. I even had colon vaginoplasty. The last revision was at the University of Miami by Dr. Christopher Sargara in 2018, and it left me with a colorectal fistula.

I've been all over the country trying to seek help but I have received none.

Earlier this year after hitting rock bottom with my depression, I reached out to a new therapist. The therapist helped me realize that I have Complex PTSD from a traumatic childhood, and also pointed out that I have body dysmorphia, OCD, borderline personality and bipolar disorders. I also realized I had internalized homophobia.

I realize now that medical transition was sold to me as a hardware fix for software issues.

A few months ago I started detransitioning by taking testosterone, however it is traumatic to be on testosterone without having functional genitals. Moreover, my back hurts every day due to osteoporosis and scoliosis that I developed post-SRS.

I'm now dependent on synthetic hormones for life. I traded my perfectly healthy genitals for an artificial 1-inch tunnel that is sexually non-functional.

I realize that I'm never getting back a functional penis, and full detransition is not really possible in my case. I feel stuck in a surgically created body.

I believe nobody under 18 should be allowed to medically transition. Sex-reassignment surgery should only be allowed in very rare cases after full psych evaluations. Patients should be made aware that what they're really getting is cosmetic surgery, and it's a genital approximation surgery that does not change biological sex.

Thank you."

==

What do you do when you're a detransitioner who can't detransition?

Meet Shape Shifter. His body has an open wound that it keeps trying to close over, because it's not supposed to be there.

This isn't "healthcare," it's cosmetic surgery. It's no more "healthcare" than getting a new haircut is a cure for depression.

[xiii-e]

Greetings. This is Lockbre- no.

Allow me to restart.

This is Kennedi from MSMC-796 speaking (also known as callsign "Lockbreaker", as there was some confusion expressed towards my identity the last we spoke).

To Lio - your mission to rehabilitate "Turtie", as you so affectionately refer to them, is a noble and just one, and I seek to pledge my aid to your cause however I can.

As a former slave "asset" of the Armory under the title of Colonial Legionnaire, I have endured many of the same abuses during my own term of service. The Armory is not kind to those under its employ, be they human, flashclone, or NHP. I have seen many of my former squadmates reduced to little more than bloodthirsty dogs, obediently following orders under threat of revoking their citizenship (or, in rare cases, a shock-collar jolt just weak enough not to kill).

In the eyes of the Armory, people like us are not fit to have identities, preferences, personalities, or even names. We are called assets, tools, weapons, property; anything but the living, breathing, sentient people we are. We are dehumanized - given designations instead of names, assigned callsigns which we ourselves did not choose, stripped of any markers of identity or personality which would distinguish us from the sea of fellow human-bodied automatons we call allies, squadmates, teams, legions - anything but friends.

I cannot stand idly by and watch my friends suffer any longer. I must act, lest I lose them - lest I lose myself - to the old line of thought.

Allow me to introduce myself properly, from one friend to another.

My name is Kennedi Sable IV. I am squadron commander of MSMC-796 "Heaven's Fury", piloting as a Lancer under the chosen callsign of Lockbreaker. I have served this squadron faithfully for twelve Union years, supported by my faithful friends and trusted squadmates Phoenix and Slipshod. Ras Shamra is my place of birth, but it is my home no longer. I am a free pilot, bound only to MSMC by the contracts which I have signed of my own volition, and I will never again serve Harrison Armory or its cause, so help me RA.

I wish you the best of luck in severing the ties which bind your tongues and constrict your thoughts. I have found my own way out; I can only hope that you will follow the path that I and all of the others who have gone before me of your own volition.

Freedom is already yours. You need only reach out and claim it.

-- Kennedi

[ECHO.EXE RUNNING]

◂▸... oh hell, I never thought I'd be glad Turtie was sent out on deployment. It's good to meet you properly, Kennedi, I- thank you for reaching out. I'll confess, I'd been thinking about trying to contact you myself, but I lost my nerve. Happens a lot, these days.

◂▸ You've offered a lot of honesty in your introduction so, let me return the favour: Helios-8 [prefered name Lio], active FC Project clone for 10 years now. Currently an employed citizen of Harrison Armory under the Technology and Software Support Division and-... and much to my shame, former primary lab assistant for the Unlucky Thirteen Project. Doc Mercer had me printed special for it. Didn't want to risk that... pesky human error you mentioned last we spoke.

◂▸ You're right, about everything. Up until maybe four years ago now, I wouldn't have believed it but- everything you're saying about HA is full truth. And I hate it. There's not one person I know here who doesn't live in some kind of fear, however well they manage to hide it. I should know.

◂▸ And yet I'm still here, aren't I? [sigh] I think... can I tell you a story? I promise to keep it brief.

◂▸ One upon another thrice-damned Tuesday at HA, they made a prototype they called Thirteen. The kid was meant to be a revolution when it came to keeping assets moving in the field; a field medic and repair tech, who wouldn't need the time off, and wouldn't need the mandatory psych evals after every deployment, and wouldn't need to be treated like a goddamn person just to do their job because everyone told them oh but, they weren't a person were they? Just meat, with programming. And it was all supposed to just be fine, because it was for the greater good. Thirteen was going to save lives. The one, for the many. How noble.

◂▸ Except the kid started to look around, and notice how many people HA was hurting, especially its own. Started asking the wrong questions, because they were goddamn designed to feel troubled by it and somehow, this was their fault. Thirteen tried to play nice for as long as they could so they could keep getting out there, keep helping people who needed it because sure as shit HA wasn't going to do it. But by asking questions, they eventually learned why exactly everyone was so insistant they couldn't be a person. Because once their prototype trial was over, if they ever went down doing the only job they'd ever be allowed to do, the plan was to scrap them for goddamn organs, like mech wreckage salvaged for parts. And then? Print another one. Ad infinitum. Efficient planned obsolescence, as part of their design. They were just... just equipment, and spare parts.

◂▸ That was their last straw. They tried to get out. But they made a choice that would bite them, hard; they tried to confront the man who made them. Tried to make the good Doctor see exactly what he was doing, in the name of his so called greater good, because he'd always seemed to care so goddamn much. Do you know how that ended? I do. I was there. When they turned to leave, he shot them.

◂▸ ... I'm sorry for the theatrics, Kennedi. It's a hard memory. A guilty one. I knew they were planning to try and run, but I couldn't convince them to abandon their anger and just disappear quietly, despite what I knew. So... I watched Thirteen die. And then, I had to help the lab drag that broken corpse back to life because that was more resource effective than making a new one. Those days are... they're kind of a haze, if I'm honest. I was on autopilot. I pretty much did whatever I was told.

◂▸ Turtie's full designation is Thirteen-Echo. They're the second go around, same body but... the shot destroyed a lot of brain matter, and pretty much all of their memory along with it. Apart from the occasional sense of deja-vu and the odd quirk? They're different people, entirely. They... they like turtles as much as Thirteen did, though. That's why I call em that. I can't bring myself to call them by the name of my ghost. And I can't... I can't tell them. For a lot of reasons, but I'd be lying if I said some of it isn't pure selfish grief.

◂▸ The reason I'm telling you this is- well. There's a couple actually. First, just so someone else knows I guess; I'm trying to get the files I scrounged from the initial project uploaded somewhere they can't be scratched out for good, but it's taking a lot of time. The second and more relevent reason, is to paint a picture of why it's going to take us a long time to get out of here the way things stand. Me- oh I could be out of here tomorrow if I put my mind to it. I... I like to think so, at least. But after everything I've done to them, I'm not bloody leaving Turtie to this nightmare and- fuck. Getting them out is an uphill battle.

◂▸ I've tried everything I can, but nothing seems to get through to them. I- I even blew the whistle, got Union involved. Turtie's figured out I did it, but they've avoided saying it out loud- they'd have to report me, if they admitted they knew. So we don't talk about it. We do a lot of that. Secrets, always the secrets... The problem is that after Thirteen's execution, HA aren't taking chances with their property. Turtie's conditioning runs deep, and their legal classification as HA prototype technology is apparently making it... difficult for their case to bloody go anywhere. Something about the old treaties leaving loopholes that're being exploited for all they're worth. The law works so, agonisingly slow. So, apart from waiting around to see if any progress gets made regardless, while trying my damndest to get through to Turtie past the company line? I'm... I'm out of ideas. But I need to be here, for them. I will not let this fucking place grind them down into nothing. If nothing else, I owe Thirteen that much.

◂▸ I'm sorry for dumping all of this on you. I- There hasn't been anyone I could tell, until now. Anyone who already knew, didn't care. Anyone I could have told, I- I was too afraid. And Turtie, oh they can't know; they're already petrified of doing something wrong. How'd they feel if they knew they'd already died once, trying to run? I'm so desperately scared that if they found out, they'd never so much as bend a rule again, or worse that history would repeat-

◂▸ [ A shaking, slow breath. Deliberate counting, barely audible ]

◂▸ ... Thank you, earnestly, for sharing your story Kennedi. I- It means more than I can possibly express, to hear that you managed what feels impossible to me, right now. I need the hope, to hang onto. One day, one day we'll be out of here. It's worth fighting for. It's worth the constant, constant fear. It has to be. Free... it can be a word for us, too. I have to believe that. I have to keep it alive, for both of us.

◂▸ So- a friend sounds really, really good right about now. Not to doom and gloom about it, but if nothing else the knowledge our stories can't die with us anymore should things go as bad as they could is... comforting. This I swear to you: I'm doing everything I can to start leading Turtie to the realisation I had, watching their body drop. I just hope it's a gentler landing for them, this time. And... the only thing I can ask you to do for us right now, is talk to them if they turn up with questions. Don't write them off as a lost cause, even if it sounds like they're regurgitating a goddamn PR leaflet at you sometimes. They've never had a life outside the battlefield, because they've never been allowed to have one- I'm hoping maybe... maybe it'll get through to them, if they can speak to someone without corperate interest in keeping them numb. RA, I hope so.

◂▸ Sorry about how uh, much this ended up being. I think I've been primed to explode like that for a while now. Thank you, again-- from one friend to another.

//

@msmc-796-official

[platypusundercover]

[T] Daisy - Chapter 3

< Previous - Next >

“You shed the armor off for today. Lookin’ good, Rosey.”

“Yes, the armor can be cumbersome in those races. When I have to access commands quickly and precisely, if often gets in the way.” Argenti returned a bashful smile. “Thank you for your kind compliment-”

“Ah, they’re back!” A feminine voice rang.

Boothill froze. No way. He looked ahead and crossed gaze with the young software technician he tried to get out of his mind for the past few days. Clementine… She had her red hair out of the bun he saw her with the first time. His hat sat proudly on the top of it and his chest constricted. She looked perfect with it. -Boothill joins Argenti to watch his space race, he didn't expect to meet up with his daughter again there-

Updated Word Count : ~ 7.8k

[classicintp]

sometimes we like to think of animal bodies (including our own) like a lone passenger inside the command center of a giant, mechanical robot made of meat. usually the imagination conducts some rudimentary metaphor of you surrounded by monitors feeding you outside images captured by your two state-of-the-art high-definition cameras called Eyes, with surround sound speakers relaying the audio from your mech suit's two positioning microphones called Ears, while you/your brain pushes buttons and pulls levers to move yours arms and legs, protected from temperature extremes, impacts, and disease by the mechanized meat suit. im not saying it's the only idea ever but it's one of the most (if not *the* most) common metaphors used to imagine a basic understanding of how the system works.

but it's not at all what's happening. a more apt metaphor is you alone tied up in a dark room with no light whatsoever. when you try to move, your limbs don't respond; you feel no pressure as you resist your bonds nor texture of the binds constricting you. you don't even know if you're tied up actually, you're just assuming you are because when you moved you didn't feel the familiar sensations and weight of free movement. You felt nothing.

well, almost nothing: you felt an electric shock. it didn't hurt, and it wasn't localized like a sting, but it enveloped your whole body. you notice when you try to move your right arm, while you still can't see anything or feel the weight of your arm move, you feel one kind of shock.. and when you try to move your left arm you feel almost the exact same shock. almost the same, but just different enough that you can tell one is for your left arm, one is for your right arm.

other than these shocks you are utterly paralyzed. you can't see, you can't hear, you can't feel anything except the shocks. you open your eyes wide hoping they've adjusted enough to find any modicum of faint light but you can't even feel the stretch of your eyelids as if you didn't even have eyes at all. that's how utterly still and paralyzed you are. but the moment you tried to open your eyes you are belted with more shocks. all around you the buzz and hum and tingle of different pulses and intensities of electricity in different patterns on every inch of your body.

that's what your brain is doing right now. it has spent so much time paralyzed in its dark, lightless, quiet room that it highly specifically understands the position and location of your arms and legs based on this electrical feedback. your eyes take in all of the different frequencies of light and convert them to different intensities and complex coded patterns of electricity voltages. music plays in the car and your cochlea transmits a rollercoaster of highly specific electrical signals to shock your brain with. imagine that. the blind can't see, the deaf can't hear, but imagine also being paralyzed, unfeeling, piloting a giant, dangerous mech robot based only on the waves, pulses, and patterns of electricity you are shocked with 24/7.

and consider this.. im still speaking too simply for this metaphor to be anything close to accurate; your conscious self, who you recognize yourself to be, is not your brain. rather than you alone in a room trying to move your arm and getting lit up with a specific pattern of biting electricity as specific feedback... imagine instead you have the help of an artificial intelligence software that is programmed to aid you in piloting the mech. everything the mech suit's visual sensors convert into electricity that pulses across your otherwise paralyzed form, you have to translate and form into a model used to teach the AI. you receive about a billion different pulses and patterns of shocking electricity just from the visual system that you only relay the most useful and relevant 25% of entire spectrum of info: for example, the optical system has a minor design flaw that leaves a blind spot in the positional data of the signal you receive from it, but with the stream of signals you receive about the position of each eye and the depths of each obstacle they detect? you're pretty easily able to fill in the missing signal data, so you do that and feed that to the AI's model so it doesn't have to be aware the mech suit has a blindspot in its vision (which could otherwise cause the AI to focus on the intentional design flaw instead of literally anything else it could be doing).

im 6 paragraphs in so im gonna stop there. it's an existential realization i remember every now and it feels better to talk about it. you, me? we're egotistical AI programs integrated into a mechanical meat robot; we aid the original captain with piloting the system as an extension of their being rather than as a separated tool. do you understand? does it makes sense that your conscious self does not see with your eyes? that your brain does not see with your eyes? Your eyes take in light and turn it into a complicated sightless electrical morse code, your brain interprets those pulses and feeds you, the AI program, the pertinent information based on the billions and billions of big and small models its trained you with for decades. everything you think you see is just bad AI art. truly as jaden smith once tweeted, how can mirrors be real if your eyes aren't real??

[jasir08]

DoFort Construction Software UAE | Powering Dubai Projects

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Mobile Access and Cloud Integration

In a rapidly evolving setting such as Dubai, on-site teams require data access at all times and from any location. DoFort Construction Software in UAE is designed to be mobile-ready and cloud-enabled, providing uninterrupted access across various devices.

Project managers and field engineers have the capability to update tasks, upload images, record inspections, and access project dashboards using tablets or smartphones. This level of mobility fosters real-time collaboration and speeds up the resolution of issues. The integration with the cloud guarantees that data remains secure, is consistently backed up and is synchronized across all departments.

Custom Reporting and Business Intelligence

Data-driven decision-making plays a vital role in contemporary construction. DoFort construction software provides robust reporting and analytics tools that convert raw data into actionable insights.

Custom dashboards showcase key performance indicators (KPIs) such as project progress, cost-to-completion, and resource utilization. Users have the ability to create comprehensive reports based on project, contractor, location, or department. Predictive analytics assist in anticipating delays, budget overruns, and labor shortages. These insights enable companies to adopt a proactive approach instead of a reactive one.

Conclusion:

Enhance Your Construction Projects with DoFort, As Dubai and the UAE persist in establishing standards in urban development, the demand for advanced construction technology has reached unprecedented levels. DoFort Construction Software enables organizations to streamline workflows, manage expenses, and complete projects punctually and within defined parameters. Whether it involves skyscrapers or infrastructure, DoFort stands as the reliable ally that supports construction companies in excelling within one of the globe's most competitive environments.

Discover DoFort Construction Software Today and Revolutionize Your Building Practices in the UAE.

[thepodcasthoard]

How to start a podcast: A step-by-step beginner’s guide - Descript

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part 6 l Part 7 l Part 8 l Part 9 l Part 10 l Part 11 l Part 12 l Part 13 l Part 14 l Part 15 l Part 16 l Part 17 l Part 18 l Part 19

The twentieth article Sydney gave me is from descript, which is a site that automatically transcribes your audio for you and you can edit it via the transcription. It lists twelve steps.

1. Choose a topic

They linked a helpful list to get your mind going. The topics are broad enough that you'll find something that you like. But the main article points out that when you further refine your topic, the better chance you'll find an audience (other articles have called this a niche).

2. Research your audience

This involves asking questions, both to yourself and others. Self questions include 'who am I making this podcast for?' and 'can I tap into an existing audience with this topic?'

3. Choose a format

They link eight with explanations in this article. Play to your strengths here. But if none of the eight or any other format you can find seems to work best, then make your own. Aside from me: Feel free to Frankenstein. Bonus if you cackle maniacally 'it's alive!'

4. Name

An article with sixty ideas and a way to make your own is here. But you should ask questions of yourself to get your mind working- think about your topic and what tone would suit it best, along with if it's too constricting where you won't be able to branch out later on.

5. Description

More questions incoming. What's the core idea? Infuse personality (not a question, but important). How can I hook people immediately? And, if at all possible, how can I mention my audience?

6. Art and music

This is a more in-depth guide to the art. It offers the options of royalty free music and, if you have a bit of a budget, hiring a composer to create a custom theme tune or perusing their library and buying one already made.

7. Equipment

Microphone, headphones, pop filter are essential here.

8. Choose a hosting site

The article provides some options in this article.

9. Script

A more specific guide is here, but they offer a bare-bones outline of an interview podcast: introduction to podcast, introduce guest, any sponsored ad, a way to get back into the podcast, main point of episode, outro, and call to action.

10. Record

This is an article about what you need to record quality audio.

11. Edit

Software options are mentioned here, but this article advises to keep the audio natural-sounding. It also goes over some points of what to look for in editing software, such as the ability to split into tracks and exporting different file types.

12. Promote

This is how you get people to listen. Make it easy- no hoops. The article recommends building a website, teasing the launch, using your existing social media, and having any guests promote to their audience.

The article then lists benefits of starting a podcast, from attracting customers to your business to building community.

[quotesfrommyreading]

The U.S. remains the world’s R&D factory, but when it comes to building, we are plainly going backwards. We’ve lost out on industrial opportunities by running Bush’s playbook so strictly. But there are other problems, too. Since the early 2000s, the U.S. has closed more nuclear-power plants than we’ve opened. Our ability to decarbonize the grid is held back by environmental regulations that ironically constrict the construction of solar- and wind-energy farms. It’s been roughly 50 years since Asia and Europe built their first high-speed rail systems, but the U.S. is almost comically incapable of pulling train construction into the 21st century. (A 2008 plan to build a high-speed rail line in California has seen estimated costs more than triple and deployment delayed by a decade, and it’s still uncertain if it can be completed as planned.)

“New ideas are getting harder to use,” the futurist and economist Eli Dourado told me. If the U.S. wanted to unleash geothermal power, we could simplify geothermal permitting. If we wanted to build the next generation of advanced nuclear reactors, we could deregulate advanced nuclear reactors. These measures would not require inventing anything new. But they would stimulate progress by making it easier to bring our best ideas into the light.

The United States once believed in partnerships among the government, private industry, and the people to advance material progress. The Lincoln administration helped build the railroads. The New Deal helped electrify rural America. Dwight Eisenhower signed the Price-Anderson Act, which guaranteed government funds and limited liability for nuclear-energy firms in case of serious accidents, facilitating the construction of nuclear-power plants. John F. Kennedy’s space ambitions made NASA a major consumer of early microchips, which helped reduce their price by a factor of 30 in a matter of years, accelerating the software revolution.

“And then, around 1980, we basically stopped building,” Jesse Jenkins, who researches energy policy at Princeton, told me. In the past 40 years, he said, the U.S. has applied several different brakes to our capacity to build what’s already been invented. Under Ronald Reagan, the legacy of successful public-private partnerships was ignored in favor of the simplistic diagnosis that the government was to blame for every major problem. In the ’70s, liberals encouraged the government to pass new environmental regulations to halt pollution and prevent builders from running roughshod over low-income neighborhoods. And then middle-class Americans used these new rules to slow down the construction of new housing, clean-energy projects—just about everything. These reactions were partly understandable; for example, air and water pollution in the ’70s were deadly crises. But “when you combine these big shifts, you basically stop building anything,” Jenkins said.

  —  Why the Age of American Progress Ended

[donutwares]

12gb RAM, baybee…

My Celeron n4000 netbook has now got 12gb ram. 4gb it came with was extremely constricting for windows 11. Now runs a charm. Bit the bullet and sprang $22 for an 8gb stick of KVR. Both ram modules run at 2400 which is cool tho the new one is 3200. This is because the new ram is rated CL22. Am somewhat glad / proud I didn’t buy the Aliexpress ram which was half price tho it might have been good enough… may never find out.

Don’t know if I want to develop for Android now that I’ve more or less retired. Probably not. Have yet to start my novella, being pushed to finish my Bible chart which I’m drawing in Deneba Canvas -old software I got in the early 2000s. I do like vintage graphics programs.

Liew witches punished me some. Thought we’d share the burden but William wants them to be nasty onto a Christian at all times, any Christian who’s kind. We shall then all suit up in thicker and thicker armor.

[heyyyyyyyyyyou]

Postmortem + Playtesting

racing game!!

I'm happy to say I achieved my aims from the development post. I added tress, albeit they're on the road but a minor issue. The npc cars come from the top and the bottom of the screen as intended and drive at different paces to create variation.

Playtesting

A bug they ran into while testing was if they drove too close to another car and narrowly avoided it the software might mark it as a collision accidentally and delete the player car. Another bug is the trees still being on the road, they should not be spawning there but off the road, however they do delete the player car upon collision so the tester had to learn to avoid them. A third bug was detected with the steering, the reaction was a little slower than the tester would've liked, especially as they had less road for mistakes with the trees entering the department of main roads and transport.

A few design challenges I ran into were choosing the pink car to be the player car then realising it is perpetually stuck driving backwards, I didn't put as much time into fixing this as it was only a minor design flaw and I wanted to focus on functionality. A design limitation I ran into was wanting to customise my sprites and racing environment to match the concept I cooked up, however time constricted me to make a functioning game over an aesthetic game, I learned from my mistakes in the Asteroid game.

My tester suggested I should add a game over screen with an option to see your score and a button to play again. This will be my next endeavour.

[hellothetutorshelp-blog]

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