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contemplatingoutlander · 22 days ago

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They are not good at this

Nearly five months into Trump’s new reign of error, his administration’s mistakes are multiplying.

The Washington Post | Opinion | Dana Milbank | June 6, 2025

Dana Milbank provides a humorous take on the many ways the Trump administration is just not good at governing. This is a gift 🎁 link, so there is no paywall.

It's like the Keystone Cops are running the country.🤦🏻‍♀️

There is no sanctuary from Trump administration buffoonery.

On May 29, Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem released a “comprehensive list of sanctuary jurisdictions.” She was “exposing these sanctuary politicians” because they are “endangering Americans and our law enforcement in order to protect violent criminal illegal aliens.”

But it immediately became clear that the list of more than 500 states, counties and cities was riddled with errors: misspellings, cities and counties mistaken for each other, and places that don’t exist. Cincinnati became “Cincinnatti,” Campbell County (Kentucky) became “Cambell” County, Greeley County (Nebraska) became “Greenley” County, Takoma Park (Maryland) became “Tacoma” Park, while “Martinsville County” (Virginia) was invented. And so on.

Worse, scores of the “sanctuary politicians” she called out turned out to be leaders of MAGA counties and towns with no sanctuary policies on their books. Complaints poured in from Trump allies across the country. “You don’t have that many mistakes on such an important federal document,” said Pat Burns, the Trump-backing mayor of the right-wing stronghold of Huntington Beach, California, mislabeled as a sanctuary city. He told the Associated Press that “somebody’s got to answer” for this “negligent” behavior.

Good luck with that. The only answer was to disappear the list this week, leaving behind a “Page Not Found” error.

Such a massive screwup hadn’t happened since … well, the previous week, when Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. went to the White House and released his ballyhooed “Make America Healthy Again” report full of citations of studies that don’t exist, the product of AI hallucinations.

This, in turn, was reminiscent of President Donald Trump’s “Liberation Day” tariff rollout, which targeted an island full of penguins and other unpopulated or sparsely populated corners of the globe — and raised taxes on most of the world based on a math error. [...] But Trump gets his intelligence from other sources. This week he reposted a message on Truth Social asserting that Biden was “executed in 2020” and replaced by “robotic engineered soulless mindless entities”; Trump later ordered an investigation into the “conspiracy” of Biden’s “cognitive decline.” He also shared a post about a House bill that would rename the D.C.-area transit system from WMATA to WMAGA and its Metrorail to the “Trump Train.”

It’s a great idea. Qatar will donate the subway cars, which will be powered by coal. Passengers will pay for fares with cryptocurrency after first showing proof of citizenship. And the trains will reverse themselves regularly and without warning — never quite reaching their original destination.

[emphasis added]

#trump administration #not good at governing #reports riddled with errors #kristi noem #rfk jr #sanctuary cities #president's daily brief #make america healthy again #liberation day #tariffs #keystone cops #dana milbank #the washington post #gift link #my edited gifs

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cosmica-galaxy · 2 months ago

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So when the human first arrived to Earthbread did they brought anything that can be useful like a purse or mini backpack, at least something in their pockets? Would’ve been great to have some minor stuff to help them out like bandaids, chapstick, lotion, etc! Even human currency could be helpful, they could auction a penny or a dollar bill as some kind of rare artifact in exchange for cookie currency. Also the human could even modify their bag into a mobile home for the cookies to use when they go out for an adventure. Plus I think the cookies would be pretty fascinated to see how big the human’s stuff is compared to their size.

I like to think that the human at least has their phone, keys, wallet, or a few little pocket items that they keep with them. Like lotion or lip gloss. Maybe even ear buds if they have those with them too. Their smartphone is easily the most interesting thing they have on their person, as it holds all the information about the human and maybe even their world. Depending on how you view it, the phone can stay powered by unnatural means or it will slowly run out of battery until it becomes useless. Plus, the human has to make sure that it stays dry and that cookies don't abscond with it. I also like to think that the human at least has a backpack with certain items in it. It can be books, seeds, toys, trinkets, or anything else you can find in a backpack (like a journal or scrapbook for example). It can also carry a laptop if the human was attending school/college, which would be an even stronger version of their phone...and yes, the cookies want to steal it as well...or at least have an opportunity to research it. While it's not overly out of pocket for cookies to have some forms of developed technology, I don't think they have quite reached the level of technological advancement that humans have. (if you don't count the space colony from one of the cookie run games) I mean, can you imagine if the human that winds up in Earthbread is an engineer or scientist by profession?

There would be so many things that they know how to do just by using physics or some other form of science to help educate the cookies, as well as them getting taught the ways of magic in return. Imagine if they began to make mechs or robots, give rise to a new "kingdom" that looks like a human city (with skyscrapers and such), and they also develop a new way of governance for cookies to use. It would probably inspire a lot of cookies to revive some technologies, or broaden upon existing technology, like the cars from the Golden Cheese Kingdom or the bikes/vehicles that certain entities utilize.

The human would invent bigger airplanes, jets, rockets, and defensive turrets to help protect the new city that hails the human as the ruler (despite them mostly just inventing things and utilizing their college learned skills to improve the life of the cookies). Imagine even more improvements as well! Instead of typical candy trains, the human constructs bullet trains, trams, and other various types of transportation. Including inventing navy-grade battleships, sonar technology, computerized functions, and newer technologies that enable a better lives for their cookie subjects. I like to think that the city that the human builds to mirror their own world would become known as the "City of Innovation", as the cookies that live there have optimized how life can be in cities. Such as public transportation, numerous parks, rooftop gardens, water (or soda) filtering plants, electricity, vehicles, airports, sea ports, optimized trains, solar/hydro powerplants, and a unique political system that is primarily overseen by the human's selected overseers, whom they choose based on positive merits. However, the resident cookies rarely see the human, as they only reserve an appearance for important matters. Such as a visiting monarch from a neighboring kingdom or a political concern of great importance. Otherwise, they mostly reside in the large building that serves as the center of their city. All this becomes possible because the human either takes initiative to expand the technology in the cookie world with a degree they have, or they work with cookies to help reverse engineer their technology so that cookiekind can benefit from the technology they have on them at the time they visit Earthbread.

If the human builds up their city from scratch, I like to think it looks like this. A very solarpunk and futuristic vibe to it. The city of innovation.

#sugarfulwitch #haxorus imp #hax speaks #cosmica galaxy #cosmica-galaxy #cookie run x reader #crk x reader #crk x you #crk x y/n #crk tag #crk #cookies and humans

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nyxtickled · 6 months ago

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I kind of can't get over you studying freakin' *robotics engineering.* Now I'm picturing you as the cool engineer on some sci-fi show. Whaddaya think? Star Trek? Something with giant robots? Maybe something grittier and more cyberpunk?

Maybe this is making too light of what you're working so hard for. Follow-up and/or substitute question: what's one of your dream projects or goals? What kind of robot(s) does Nyx most want to create, or work on?

��🤭 awww jeez don’t make me all fricken bashful on main i’m supposed to be tough !!!! CYBERPUNK PLEASE AAAAH

ok ok but to answer seriously, so far in my academic career i’ve worked on autonomous cars (1/10 scale autonomous racecars built essentially from scratch, a full size autonomous EV gokart, and i’ve even been fortunate enough to work on a fully autonomous indy 500 car…essentially the most advanced autonomous vehicle in the world. shit was one of the most mind blowing things i’ve ever been a part of), i’ve worked on some cool solar stuff (solar water heater for an orphanage in Tijuana, solar carport concept design for a nonprofit who wants to propose the idea of charging EV cars while they’re parked outside at work all day and distributing leftover power to the building), and my personal favorite was this project i did for a class i took where i designed an autonomous campus rideshare prototype on one of the 1/10 scale cars that was able to use facial recognition to identify the student who requested the ride and would essentially drive itself to the drop off location!

the last one was the most fun for me bc it was the first time i really got into the programming side of robotics. the car would have a starting location where it waited for ride requests, then when you submitted one it would drive itself to the location using LiDAR for collision avoidance and GPS path training. but the real doozy was the pickup stage bc i had to develop the facial recognition code to be able to scan the student’s face upon arrival with computer vision in live time with a camera that was attached to the car, and then match it to a photo of the student that was stored in a database, and then try to match the name of that student to the name of the student who requested the ride! if it matched, the screen would be like “rider verified! hop in!” and proceed to the next stage of driving itself to the drop off point. if it didn’t, the screen would read “sorry, we couldn’t verify your identity with the ride request” and drive itself back to the parking spot where it would wait for the next ride request! and the database of faces would basically come from your student ID picture, cuz the rideshare service would be around campus for students only!

god it was so fucking challenging but i had so much fun with it. so uhhhh to avoid writing 18 more paragraphs about all the cool robotics shit that i’m obsessed with, i would say my dream project is definitely something that combines machine learning software, robotics operating systems programming, and mechanical design all in one. something that could take the technological advancements that we have made and turn it into something useful for everyone. fuck i’m such a nerd i’m sorry i did NOT mean to go on like this ahahahahaha

#nyx.answers #uhhh anyways…#do u see why i crave venomous all-consuming tickle torture #i need my brain turned to mush by something that is not engineering in order to survive lmao

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sinning-23 · 2 years ago

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My Latest crush is an alien car from space Pt.2

Okay so iwasnt expecting so many Mirage smps to like up my post but HEYYY welcome home yall lmao. Heres part two and let me know is yall want like a tag list for the next couple parts. ANywhoo there's some tension that forms this chapter so start getting ready for more flirty and spicyyyy interactions with old boy.

Heres the link to pt.1

Heres the link to pt.3 shawty

ANywho ENJOY!

Pt.2

Touch me softly

Mirage had allowed you to explore his anatomy, and he was more willing than you thought. You had managed to make a nice little sketch of his body and made 4 separate copies to try and get a placement in where everything was. Then you had 5 more separate sheets just in case there were some more internal systems you wanted to note. He watched as your eye brown pinched and formed a line on your forehead and your fingers guided the pencil to the paper.

“Wow, you drew me kinda sexy.” He jokes making you draw a breath trying to hold back a laugh.

It really wasn’t sexy, it was about the equivalent of the Vitruvian man drawing and basic anatomical positioning for a robot. He watches you stand, hair pulled back, yet a couple of braids still fall in front of your face. He’s quiet, looking at the way you focused so intensely on exploring him.

When you gestured for him to move his leg, he did so without complaint, the feeling of your soft, warm hands under his exteriors heating him up from the inside. Of course, you’d never know that unless you kept poking and prodding.

“Ok so compared to me, and well, other humans I’m sure your overall body parts are called different things. So let’s start from top to bottom, yeah?” You suggest, eager to learn.

Mirage kneels in front of you, giving you an opportunity to see better. You’re much smaller than him, but he could tell when you stood next to Noah you were definitely average human height. Small to him but normal to everyone else.

“Alright I hope you’re ready cause there’s a LOT.” He explains, clearing his throat as you move closer to his face just to see better, he blinks a bit, getting used to the feeling.

You smile slyly, placing your hand under his chin to guide his face,

“Let’s start with your face. Stick out your…tongue?”

He opens his mouth and lets the ‘flesh’ inside lol out before speaking

“Gloth-ah” he announces and you tilt your head in confusion, only for him to repeat.

“Glossa”

You nod prodding at what you soon learned was his helm and face plates. You brush over his vocalizer for a moment and he hums, high-pitched enough to be a moan but not loud enough for either of you to acknowledge it. You know what you heard though.

“Whoa- lets not touch that alright ma?” He asks.

Soon enough your trailing downward and when you do he announces each part for you to make a note of. This is the quietest he’s been since earlier today. He lets you work, touch, poke, pull, and press whatever you'd wanted. It’s not like it hurt really, but he’s never had something smaller than him want to examine at such close range and actually touch places he’d never been able to. In fact, it was kind of nice-

He yelps when you slide your hand down his chest plate and even farther under his chassis. You pull away, startled at the noise with wide eyes.

“OK, that’s enough exploring don’t you think?” The statement is rushed and you side-eye him when what sounded like cooling fans whirred from inside.

Had you gotten him worked up? Maybe those were sensitive spots that had never really been touched like that before? You nod, not wanting to pry and ruin this newfound friendship by being a perv. You collect the papers and paperclip them together as he begins to wind down. It's about 6am now, and the sun peeks in through the garage windows. Your dad should be awake about now and-

You gasp pushing Mirage back into the space he was originally parked in last night(even though he didn’t budge). Your dad couldn’t know about this! AT ALL! Knowing him he'd stress out and then his pressure would get too high and he’d have a heart attack and-

“Whoa hey, what the rush, mamas? Got something to hide?” Mirage questions, figuring out why you were trying to get him back into a corner.

Was he being clueless on purpose?!

“YES, YOU! Now go back to being a car! My dad can't know about you, it might just be the death of him.” You huff out, gripping your scalp and pacing back and forth. He gets the idea, chuckling a bit before right back to that beat-up Porsche.

You sneak out the garage, tiptoeing up the stairs and into your room. And the moment your head hit the pillow, not even a tornado could wake you.

__________

You'd be lying if you said you didn't sleep the rest of the day away. By the time you woke up it was already 3-4pm and sounded like your father was cleaning up the kitchen. You sigh, running yourself a shower considering you didn't get one the night before. Mirage was still in the garage as far as you knew and you were hellbent on getting the rest of those notes.

You step in, the water feeling soothing against your skin, steam filling up the bathroom as you sigh in relief. Thoughts of your apartment fill your head.

‘Maybe Mirage could help with the unpacking? Or maybe not. He could be spotted and then that’s more problems for us. Mirage…..Miraaaaageee….’

Your turn to face the water, soaping up your towel as suds slide down the drain.

‘I wonder if a car wash is the equivalent of a shower for him….does he stay a car or like…fully transformed….does he have a-‘

Shutting the water off you opt to pull your hair back today since youd being doing more exploring. The steam from the bathroom escapes when youleave and pad downstairs, catching a glimpse at the note you father let you on the kitchen counter

~Working late, leftovers in the fridge~

You smile to yourself, grabbing a bottle of water to try and beat the obvious heat outside and head to the garage. Sure enough, the Porsche is right where you left it. Mirage is right where you'd left him, and when you tap on the window, the doors unlock almost instantly. You flatten the back of your blue jean skirt and adjust the seat. Awfully quiet today?

“Well good afternoon to you too sunshine? You realize it’s almost 5 right?.” You joke, hearing him rev his engine and the radio humming to life with the sound of his voice.

“You had me up all night! Looking this good doesn’t happen on its own! But how tired can I be when a pretty girl in a miniskirt‘s got her thighs on my seat?” He shoots back, making you gasp.

“Drive you flirt, I got more notes to take. Wanna go to that garage you took me to yesterday?” You ask, using the garage clicker to leave.

It was hot, the sun beating down on you as Mirage insisted you keep the windows down instead of running the ac. The streets were somewhat empty on this fine Sunday morning and Mirage’s only response was to drive in what you assumed was the direction to the garage. You fidget with the radio nobs and glance at the aux cord below the cd player. Maybe he did have CDs in here? You open the armrest to find nothing but-

It was easy to be nosy and explore when Mirage could drive himself, youd put that together on your own last night. There was so little you knew about him but his demeanor overall made you feel comfortable enough to ask. He was…charming. You pull the blank CD case out the armrest, and dust it off.

“MIrage’s Mix (from-)”

The name was scratched off, well more smudged than anything. You crack the case open and slide the CD into the player, the wait for the music to start making you a bit nervous. Had he realized you'd put it in? Was it personal? You begin to regret your decision but before you could press the eject button, it began. N.W.A. blasted from the speakers, startling you for a moment but you're soon amused. What did he know about N.W.A?

________

It doesn't take much longer for you to arrive at the garage, most of the lot being empty while the two of you enter to complete more of your research. You set your purse down, taking the papers from yesterday out and trying to organize them as he peers over your shoulder.

“Still think you drew me sexy-”

You scoff playfully and push him a bit, not moving him in the slightest but still, but he still finds it amusing.

“Stop it, I need you to sit so I can finish. You got all squeamish on my last night.” You tease, sliding your hand down the back of his ‘leg’ and he freezes.

He kneels back down, watching your every move. Your fingers hover over his vocalizer, the warning from yesterday replaying in your mind. Right, don't touch. You skip his chest plate and chassis, watching his expression slightly change to disappointment for what seemed like only a second. Again, he announces each part of himself, the air slightly awkward and VERY quiet. Maybe now was the time to try and strike up some more conversation.

“Soooo, where are you really from?” You ask, writing down each part you trace over when he speaks.

“Cybertron actually. Not in your solar system lil mama.” He flirts, turning his palms slightly open when you tap them.

Servos

"Never been?" He jokes again, admiring how small your hand looked compare to his.

'Careful Mirage your size kink is showing' he thinks to himself, avoiding your gaze.

You shake your head in response, looking at the details of his hands, moving back to his torso, purposefully skipping over the plated area between his thighs. Boundaries were definitely not something you wanted to cross, trying not to make him uncomfortable. I mean, he was willingly letting you poke around, and he clears his throat when you skip that spot.

“You, you can look if you want. And touch…ask questions. It's all good babygirl.” He offers, almost melting when you look up from under your lashes at him.

He could practically feel his pump about to explode. Why did Earth girls look so damn pretty? Mirage couldn't wrap his head around it honestly, the feeling he got when he passes a pretty girl when Noah would take him for drives. How they would gasp if he revved loud enough to embarrass Noah a bit but also score him a couple numbers.

Talk about a damn good wingman. You were different though.

You were a softer kind of pretty…He'd seen you come into the garage so many times before you really met. The day your dad parked him in that spot, he watched you skip in with your little low-rise jeans, the piercing you sported shining in the sunlight.

You hugged your dad, eyes lighitn up at the new car with a gasp.

��A Porsche! Dad oh my gosh really?” You ask, seeing him nod. You squealed more, inspecting his paint job, it was just as beat up then as it was before you officially met.

You chatted on and on about how ‘cute’ he’d look when you finally got to paint him a nice shade of hot pink and added your glitter seat covers. Not so exciting for him considering pink wasn't particularly his favorite but god did you look adorable when you were excited.

And there was that same look. Pure, unbridled excitement, yet your eyes shone almost darker this time. That look is almost salacious. It makes him swallow hard, legs opening a bit more and you brush your hand over his thighs, sparing one more glance as if to ask, ‘Are you sure?’ He only nods.

“Mirage, you gonna keep telling me what everything is, or am I to assume on my own?” You question, tracing the skirt plate.

Ita hard to speak, his fans feelijg as if they were working overtime to keep him from overheating. Primus you looked so pretty between him and now he was wondering how would you look riding his-

You stop touching, whistling to get his attention. Damn, he kinda liked that.

“ ‘Rag, we good?” You questions and he swallows hard at his new nickname.

Where did all that slick talk go now?

“Yeah, y-yeah we’re good ma.” He responds finally, optics low when your light chuckle reaches his ears.

You slide your hands up and down his midsection plating, teasing at this point. How was he supposed to focus on helping you learn when you touch under his plates like that? When your fingers slide over his thighs and over the skirt plate over and over, the pace only makes him want to thrust into your touch.

He felt perverted sort of, getting off on you exploring him in the name of science. That was such bullshit. He looks down at you, watching you pinch your lip between your teeth. Oh….you liked this. Your thighs pressed together as your tongue darts out to lick your lips.

You look up at him again, smile mischievous. And before he could ask any questions you slid you hand right back to his chassis and vocalizer. Oh that was a moan without a doubt. You hum in satisfaction, you’re practically playing with him, his body. It wasn’t helping that he hadn’t been touched like this in so long either p.

“Wanna tell me what happens if I keep touching you like this?” You purr, seeing Mirage avoid eye contact.

“C’mon ma, don’t mess with me like this.” He breathes out, hollow.

You stop your ministries after hearing tires and revving come to a halt. With footsteps approaching you stand quickly, Mirage doing the same. He crosses his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall as if he’d been caught while you shove the papers into your bag and swallow hard. You’d never moved so fast in your life.

Noah enters, feeling as if he’s just interrupted something but panicking once he realizes the predicament you were about ot be in. Why were you two here? Did Mirage even think this through? Probably not. He glances back at the other 3 bots behind him, trying to find a quick solution to hide you. But, before he could get any sort of plan out, three other robots similar to Mirage walked in, and one of them, was not at all pleased.

“Primeee, i had no idea youd be back so soon!”

_______________________________________

Lemme know waht yall think in the comments lmao and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist as well!

Mini Taglist: @gniteruirui @veggiepizzababy panty-h03

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sol-consort · 6 months ago

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Cyberpunk progress so far

I met the most drop-dead gorgeous npc in the history of npcs and did a photoshoot

I've only attended like 2 or 3 ceromones so far but

I've decided that this man will be my sugar baby from now on and the donation money is just his daily allowance, I'll keep giving him as much as the game allows me too, he's MY babygirl <3

Talking about money, I've collected a shitton from doing everything but the main quest progression, like 51k so far. Went back to pay my ripper and...

when I first started I thought it'd be cool not to have any cybernetics at all, like just a fully organic human and do badass shit. But when offered the choices of any amount of chromes I could afford when paying the doc, I couldn't resist the temptation

apparently, I'm the type of person who'd fully stuff themselves with cybernetics at the first given chance. I plan to go even higher.

I'm sure there is a correlation somewhere between living with chronic pain, a weak immune system, an uncooperative body, and general fatigue & fainting to becoming "synthetics ROCK fuck my fleshy mortal prison" type of person pipeline.

So now we know what my fate would be in cyberpunk, neat.

No game breaking glitches, but there have been funny moments every now and then. Like this npc who died in the "praise the sun" position. Or that one time I summoned my car and it fell out of the sky, upside down, onto the nearby parking spot. I tried to flip it over but I couldn't so I just gave up and walked the distance.

Walking in this game is genuinely super fun? You always find something new. Not necessarily a mission, but just general interesting things to see. Like that one time I saw a guy abusing his gf near my apartment and I beat him up, or that other time I was driving home and came across a police/gang shootout. The ads never disappoint, so global warming is in effect and still taking a massive toll on the planet, whole countries are flooded, and the media's reaction is to celebrate opening the first android sex club in Antarctica.

When the TV segment is something I've seen before, I just look at the ads!

Like this one ad about a whole mechanical unicorn oh my god fuck me that is the most cyberpunk thing ever. I was so excited and imagined riding it on the street instead of a motorcycle, does it also gollap like a horse? Is there a knight outfit I can wear? this is so fucking cool please let it be a real mount I can buy. I want my robot pony and I want it NOW!

And then.

I noticed the horn moving a little too... much.

They weren't selling a robot horsie motorbike.

I was doing a mission and came across this view

I was genuinely shocked. What kind of sick individuals would tie a guy to the window and leave he starve to death? What a poor fella, what a horrible way to die. These goddamn gangs are so disgusting. Were they torturing him??

But then, when I went outside a second time, I recalled a very familiar window.

Oh.

This is the window where I killed some rando punk before going in.

They didn't do this to him.

I did.

I've also met the hottest woman alive, I want her, I NEED HER. When she yelled at me and called me bitch after her goon bonked my head, I swear my heart fluttered.

I took her money, of course I did! I would've taken a strand of her hair if only she'd allow it. Hell a used tissue would be welcomed as well.

But I didn't use the money, I just killed the guy instead :)

Because

It's HER money, It's a priceless souvenir. I'm keeping it with me at all times.

He called me princess, what a fucking creep.

I'm not paying for something I can steal I'm not an idiot

I want the extra xp

Jackie looked at me like a kicked puppy when I told him to sit down, that scum was as good as dead the second he started harrasing MY BROTHER.

And if you're wondering how my sniper build is going. HORRIBLY, that's how it's going. I'm like a captain with no ship, a spider with no prey, a tiger with no claws. I haven't found a single fucking sniper since I started and I'm lvl11 now. I've visited different shops multiple times and not one of them sells a sniper? I've been rocking with a pistol and it's super embarrassing. I feel like an action movie barely clothed woman side kick who's only given a pistol to carry in that dumb hands raised next to her head stance while the main coolguy protag has TWO rocket launchers on his shoulders with a big obnoxious grin.

Lastly, I figured out you can swim! That was a pleasant surprise. And it's not just empty water. There are kelp and algea growing in there. Haven't stumbled upon any fish yet, but the thrown trash and electronics in the water might be the answer to why.

I'm currently at the heist part of the main mission, I went back home and changed V's hairstyle, haircolour, and eyes for full immersion since it's undercover and all.

#☆other fandoms #☆cyberpunk

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ace-disgrace-on-the-case · 1 year ago

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Restore

I come bearing a wonderful gift, written by my wonderful friend @red-sprite!

The morning was early, the sky was grey, and the store was closed. Samantha was waiting by her car for the owner of the electronics store to open the front door, but her watch told her it was currently half an hour past opening and there was no-one in sight yet.

Looking in through the window the place reminded her of an old bookstore. You know the kind, the ones that seem to open whenever the owner feels like it, completely covered from floor to ceiling in books you can barely read the cover of. Antiquarians. She could see the remnants of a shelving system buried under strata of components, stretching around the corner into the darkness beyond.

Still, it was her best bet to find what she needed.

Ten minutes later the door opened, she hadn’t seen the owner arrive. Fifteen minutes and some smalltalk interwoven with project descriptions, she was about to walk out with her purchase. And that’s when she saw something she never thought she would.

An original AnTech, buried under a pile of merchandise. Her dome was stained, her screen was completely scuffed up, and the faded post-it said ‘As-is. No returns’.

Five minutes later she was secure in Samantha’s car.

The rest of the day was a blur. She finished the project, got it tested, got it packaged and shipped out. When she clocked out she’d almost forgotten this morning’s surprise. But not enough to lack a spring in her step when she made it to her car.

There, in the passenger seat, sat her find. In the light of the parking garage she looked like she was about to come alive. Samantha’s shadow danced over her scuffed faceplate as she passed the car, her arms resting in her lap.

‘You need a name, don’t you,’ Samantha thought to herself. ‘Ann sounds nice.’

The drive home was short. The trip up the stairs was very very long. As it turns out, hauling an immobile full-sized humanoid robot up three flights of stairs was a lot of work. She set Ann gently down in her comfy chair and went to work clearing her workbench. Projects half in-progress were bagged up, labelled and put away, tools were cleared, and finally she had enough space.

One last time she lifted Ann up, from her chair, to lay her as gently as she could on the workbench. Under the harsh fluorescent light it was finally visible just in what sort of condition she was. Samantha went over her section by section, noting all the outward damage. Scuffed faceplate, she knew that one. Seized motor on her left elbow, to be expected. Dent in the abdominal covering, possible impact, have to check the underlying actuators. Scuffs on legs, rattling in left ankle joint. Also very very dusty.

Knocking off the initial dust was the easy part. Finding the proprietary bits for her screwdrivers was slightly harder, but thankfully she had an extensive collection. The first thing she took off was the face plate. Four screws held it in place, now neatly extracted and marked where they go. The plate came off, connected only by a short ribbon cable. It took her a moment to find a good angle to disconnect it, but after that she was able to place the assembly to the side. Under the faceplate there was the sensor suite; cameras, both visible light and IR, depth-sensors, audio receptors tucked into the sides of the cavity, and at the bottom, the release for the chest covering.

Samantha pulled it gently, hoping that it wasn’t seized up. When she heard the click, she breathed a sigh of relief and held it in almost as quickly. She’d finally get a view of how Ann looked inside. Would all the components be present, would there be any damage, had she been scavenged for parts? It was all a big uncertainty, but there was only one way to find out.

She extracted her hand, and moved it over under Ann’s arms. Then she pulled.

The cavity opened before her, slowly bathed in the fluorescent light as deft hands maneuvered the cover away from its mounting points. There, inside, she saw a plethora of parts. All the ones she knew were supposed to be there were accounted for, and a few ones she didn’t expect caught her eye.

Breathe out.

Ann was complete, everything else was a matter of restoring. She could do this.

She lifted the cover the rest of the way off, and flipped it around. The dent was superficial, and it didn’t look like the force impacted beyond the insulation. She put the cover to the side.

Figuring out the order of cleaning was, on the one hand, a daunting process. On the other, cable layout dictated order nine out of ten times. Samantha had only worked on less sophisticated models in the past, but the principles were exactly the same. The power and data cables ran all over Ann’s chassis like a spider’s web. But like a spider, Samantha could read them. She knew them by sight, by location, by feeling. One by one they came undone until they revealed the city that lay underneath.

Heat exchangers rose like buildings on a city of green, highways of copper connected everything to everything else, crowded out by vast daughterboards rising perpendicular to the cavity.

Samantha set to work, disconnecting each component, slowly and lovingly taking Ann to pieces. Heat sink, to the side. Fans, to the side. Boards, to the side. Not all of them were standard, and Samantha could only guess to the function of some of them. Clearly Ann had not been a standard model.

She took a spray and diligently brushed each connector until it shone like it was fresh from the factory. Every single speck of dust removed, every pin straightened, every single capacitor checked.

She extracted the battery pack. Light, for what it was, but still one of the heavier components. Also probably completely dead.

Samantha lifted it out of the chassis, onto the small part of her workbench that was still free, and pulled out her tester to confirm. It wouldn’t even show a reading. She grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down the part number. With any luck it’d be a standard type, and the extent of the anti-tampering would be the screws.

Half an hour of searching later, she found the battery was an available size and could be ordered without problem. Express shipping was worth it.

She turned her attention back to Ann.

The battery could be replaced last. It was not interfering with any of the other components. The working memory modules slid in easy save for the final lock. Those always took more pressure than she liked to put onto delicate components. It left a mark on her hand.

The permanent storage was next. A big heavy box screwed into place on shock mounts to prevent the fragile internals from suffering damage when the frame moved about.

The daughterboards, slotted into the exact slots they came out of – she checked. Thrice. Screwed into place on their retaining brackets.

The fans, cleaned and lubricated, reinstalled on the processors.

And finally, the web of cables. Data cables, power cables, crossed all along the cavity to reach from everywhere to everywhere. Each of them seated with care.

She brought her power supply over to the workbench and dialed it in exactly to the battery specifications. One clip to the positive, one clip to the negative. Tomorrow would be a big day.

AnTech-G-25036 woke up. It was midnight on January 1st 1970. She couldn’t see for the blinding light. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel her face, or her arms, or her legs. She tried to move. Nothing happened. There was something on her chest. Her chest was open. She tried to think back, there were no memories before now. She tried to–

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

The voice was soft, soothing. Her ears were working. She stopped trying.

Tapping noises came from somewhere. They felt distant and close at the same time.

“There, will you try again?” Three taps sounded.

AnTech-G-25036 woke up. Her last memories were decades ago. There had been a battery failure. She had fallen down. Then there was nothing. Nothing for a long time until she woke up in the blinding light.

“Can you speak?”

She didn’t know. Could she? There were many things that she could before that she couldn’t now. Like move her arms. She tried.

“I… think so?”

There was a high-pitched sound that was hard to parse. Then more sounds, and finally more speech.

“I’m so sorry. Here.”

The light faded, and she felt her head be turned. A face came in view, her emotional recognition processes supplied [happy], [excited], [holding back]. Something supplied [pretty].

“Hi, my name is Samantha. You were damaged, and I’m restoring you.”

New contact registered: Samantha

Current list of contacts: Samantha

Time since factory reset: 30 years

Time since product end of life: 32 years

Accessing AnTech servers for revised EOL date: [server not found]

“Why?”

“Because a lot of love went into making you, and I don’t believe you deserve to be tossed aside.”

There was a process inside her that wasn’t standard from the factory. It was supplying data that she didn’t understand and reaching conclusions that she didn’t know what to do with.

“What should I do?”

User input overrode most any other process. Listening to Samantha would help.

“I will work on your hardware. Will you run AnDiagTxt for me and write the result to your secondary output?”

She did as she was told, running the program that could tell a technician every status of every component of every part of her. Something supplied [intimate] and [vulnerable].

She let the program run, aware of its process, and how it was probing every part of her. She could feel it try to reach her legs, which weren’t there. Tried to reach her arms, which weren’t there. Tried to reach her face, which wasn’t there. It found her voice, it found her camera. It found her processors and fans. It found cables. So many cables attached from her, diagnostic ports, secondary output, keyboard, there was… the correct voltage from her battery, but no battery in the housing. More cables, snaking out like an umbilical cord tethering her to the workbench.

She saw Samantha turn her face from the camera and towards something out of view. As the program ran, her eyes were focused on it. When it finished, her emotional recognition processes supplied [satisfied] [happy].

Samantha turned back towards the camera, and she could feel a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you back up and running in no time.”

No time turned out to be an overstatement on the speed, but the progress was consistent. The first thing she hooked back up was the actuator for the camera. AnTech-G-25036 could look around now and take in more of the workspace. There was a chair that housed several components, including two AnTech arms and two AnTech legs. There was a fluorescent light fixture directly overhead. If she turned the camera away, she would not be blinded. She could not move her head. Samantha said that happened later in the process.

“Do you have a name?”

The question surprised her. Names were for people, not for AnTech products.

“I am AnTech-G-25036”

She turned her camera towards Samantha. Her emotional recognition processes supplied [concentrated] and [comfortable].

Samantha had an arm on her lap. There was a spraycan on the desk, and a screwdriver in her hand. She was manipulating the elbow joint. Every cycle, it moved more until with a final [click] it completed its full range of motion. Samantha manually took it through its motions twice before inverting it to inspect the contacts.

“That is what AnTech called you. What would you like to be called?”

She didn’t know. She didn’t remember having wants before. She could feel her fans speed up as her processors tried to construct metrics by which to tackle this problem. Her processors stayed cool. The fans felt smooth in their housing.

She could ask Samantha. User input can often break process deadlocks.

“What do you think I should be called, Samantha?”

The processes slowed down and then stopped. The fans were quiet. AnTech-G-25036 was focused solely on input processing.

“I’ve been calling you Ann. Is that a name you’d like?”

She did not remember liking things before. She did not remember being allowed to like things before. How would she know what to like, how would she know the correct things to like?

Something supplied [yes].

The fans slowed down.

“Yes.”

Samantha finished with the contacts and walked up to the workbench.

“Ann it is then, pleasure to meet you Ann!”

Emotional recognition: [smile] [happy] [satisfied]

Something: [warm] [safe] [self]

Samantha stood by the workbench, Ann’s arm in her hands. “May I attach this component, Ann?”

It was not something she’d ever heard before. It wasn’t a user command, it wasn’t a query, it wasn’t a request for action.

Whatever it was, the answer was clear as day. “Yes.”

She took the detached arm in one hand and clicked it into place. It felt… smooth. It felt cool and clean and better than it had in a long time.

Ann moved her arm. Her secondary display lit up with all the new data being sent and received. Her Something lit up with somethings.

The next stretch of time really did feel like no time at all to Ann. So many new sensations to process from within and from without.

“May I?”

“You may.”

Her other arm felt as smooth as the first, able to move with a grace she had forgotten she could have.

“May I?”

“You may.”

Her legs, stable and strong. Moving with strength and finesse not seen since she was new, and even then.

“May I?”

“You may.”

Her torso cover clicked into place, dent completely removed by Samantha’s hand.

Her camera was focused on the technician now, holding the last piece of herself. A coarse white paste coated her faceplate and Samantha was rubbing a cloth over it. Every pass made it look more scratched and opaque until the final one, where it emerged spotless, restored to the mirror sheen she could barely remember it being.

She handed it to Ann, who took it wordlessly. With mechanical precision and effortless finesse, she connected it. Finally sliding the last centimeters home until a ‘click’ was the only sound audible in the workspace. Her fans were silent and smooth as the screen behind her face came to life for the first time in decades. The image on it mirrored the camera’s, an expression of care, of trust, of something.

Ann reached out with her hand, smooth and controlled, to touch Samantha’s cheek.

“May I?”

“Please.”

She leaned forward until her camera was as close as it could be to her technician’s face without touching.

And then moved the final distance.

#post #robot girl #beep boop #writing

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sir-adamus · 5 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/sir-adamus/774215670367961088/watching-sorta-stupids-vol-7-reaction-and?source=share

That makes me question what was the point of the Atlesian Knights. I guess Ironwood only wanted mindless robots that wouldn't ask questions to work for him.

you know how in Jurassic Park, Hammond keeps talking about how he 'spared no expense' when it came to the running of the park, and the film reveals some massive, gaping problems with the management because the IT system was run by one guy that they didn't even pay well enough that he was willing to sabotage InGen for their competitors?

it's like that. the image of security and safety and Atlas superiority (prioritising the aesthetics over practicality for. robot soldiers. 'a little less scary' why is that a priority to you James? where are you deploying the robots in places that civilians might be scared of them?) and 'removing the human element from the battlefield' was more important than designing those things to be able to take a hit, or programming them to actually use what they're working with (we see in volume 8 when Watts takes control of one that they're capable of sprinting and have explosives in their chests that can be remote detonated, which would both be really useful if you're sending them into Grimm territory. but no, it's always a constant slow march, and they're down in one hit to a Grimm. or a civilian armed with a trash can. or Qrow ripping them apart with his bare hands - plus they were likely made by whichever military contractor bid the lowest)

the only times we see them used to any degree of effectiveness was a) with older models which were clunkier and more durable, b) in larger numbers and c) within enclosed spaces (Black trailer where they were able to pressure Blake and Adam for a minute within the train car, and in the opening to JLxRWBY part 2 when the girls were trying to connect a portal to Earth when there were more deploying than they were destroying)

it's also just a demonstration of how fucked the priorities were in Atlas that the fragile robot drones were primarily deployed for the military when there were much better jobs they were suited for (like. Dust mining. which is repeatedly shown to be horrendously dangerous and life-threatening. cheaply produced robots that can be piloted remotely would reduce the risk to life and limb, not to mention the established long term health risks inherent to Dust mining)

but no. Ironwood doesn't trust anyone so we get his papier-mâché tin cans consistently wasting military money, which is super funny when it keeps backfiring on him

#rwb/y #it is genuinely hilarious that the only time they're shown to be remotely effective is when literally anyone but the military controls them

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ohanny · 9 months ago

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this was supposed to be a few paragraph head canon. i do not know what happened.

pitbabetober whump edition

day 1

RAGE AGAINST THE CLOCK

SEARCH PARTY I PANIC ATTACK I

“IF ONLY WE COULD HOLD ON”

pete / way. pg. 575 words.

pete gets the call at three in the morning on a wednesday and only answers because he can count the number of people who have the number to his personal phone on one hand. and when he hears way’s slurred voice mumbling apologies on the other end of the line, he's suddenly very awake. he pulls on the first shirt he can find, grabs his keys and is shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers in under a minute.

“where are you?”

“out,” way mumbles. “‘m sorry. i fucked up, pete, i -”

“just tell me where you are and i’ll come get you."

but all pete gets as an answer is ragged breathing and muffled sobs. he tries tries to pick up anything useful in the background but there's nothing that could help him pinpoint way’s location - sounds of traffic and people laughing, maybe some music but with the static of the call he can't be sure. when pete gets to the car he puts the phone on speaker and peels off towards the bar district he knows way to frequent, figuring it's the best place to start.

“can you tell me where you are?” he asks again, forcing his voice to stay calm. “talk to me, way. are you in a bar or somewhere outside?”

“i can't -”

way’s gasping breaths echo in the car. he's breathing too fast and shallow and pete begs him to slow down, to match his own exaggerated breaths, but nothing he says has any effect. he feels utterly helpless, his own chest feeling tight as way’s pain and anxiety are amplified by the state of the art sound system.

“i’m almost there, sweetheart,” he whispers. “just a little bit longer.”

he keeps up a steady stream of nonsensical words of comfort, hoping they might help, and sends a mental apology to his lawyer as he speeds through the next three red lights in order to save time. way’s grown quiet again by the time pete makes it to the bar district but it isn't necessarily a good thing. his fingers twitch on the wheel. all he wants to do is hold way’s hand and find out what he can do to fix this.

“i’m at the place where we met last time,” he says and illegally parks in front of a fire exit. “talk to me, way.”

“i think i’m okay now.”

you’re not, pete thinks desperately. just let me help. he presses the phone back to his ear. there's definitely no music now so he doubts way is inside one of the bars. it would make him easier to spot but there's still too much ground to cover.

“i’m right here. tell me where to find you so i can take you home.”

there’s an agonisingly long pause and then a quiet “i shouldn't have called. i’m so sorry.”

the call disconnects and pete’s heart drops. he runs to the street, eyes frantically scanning the drunk party goers, and calls way back. the first two tries ring but go unanswered. the third gives him a robotic female voice announcing the number he called cannot be reached at this moment. he growls, frustrated, but if way thinks blocking his number is going to deter pete, he's sadly mistaken.

there's been an emergency. please cancel all my morning meetings.

pete sends the message to his assistant, then pockets the phone. he's not going anywhere, not until he has way safe in his arms.

#peteway #pit babe fanfic #pitbabetober #whumptober 2024 #pit babe the series

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carparkingsystems · 1 year ago

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carparkingsystem · 2 years ago

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4 Things That Make Automatic Tower Parking System A Top Parking Alternative

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Also Read: Is Puzzle Parking Really A Smart Parking System?

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Drivers can say goodbye to the hassle of finding a parking space. The system works autonomously, so drivers no longer have to maneuver their vehicles in the tightest of spaces. As soon as the car is parked on the platform, the system takes over and gently and safely parks the vehicle without the need for human intervention. This not only saves time but also reduces the risk of accidents and vehicle damage due to human error.

Also Read: FEATURES OF A TOWER PARKING SYSTEM EVERY BUSINESS OWNER MUST KNOW

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#automated car parking system in india #automatic car parking #robotic car parking #robotic car parking system #Youtube

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anxiouscr0w · 1 year ago

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[ESS Drabble] Find Me In Ruins

Heya! This is a non-canon drabble to go alongside my fic Emotional Support Staff. These can be read separately, but I recommend reading ESS for context

[Spoilers for Chapter 9!] A month after being taken off schedule you’re emailed by Management, and was hit with the dreaded ‘Thank you for your service’ message. You were fired. You avoided the Pizzaplex like your life depended on it, only to come back and find it in ruins. cw: a bit of panic, broken dca, brief descriptions of claustrophobia and a mouldy environment.

The full drabble is here! I'd post the full thing here but it's almost 4k words.

It had been years by now. You were one of the many employees fired during the employee purge at the Pizzaplex, and since then, you had never returned.

You wanted to, a lot actually.

But it was so expensive, needing different passes for different areas, and you wouldn’t be allowed to see the Daycare Attendant at all.

You had religiously avoided the Pizzaplex ever since, even news and gossip about the place. You had moved to a new residence to be closer to college, and besides, you had no reason to go to the area.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the animatronics. You never got closure on the mysterious workings of the Pizzaplex, all the controversies, the virus that plagued some of the robots… Monty’s attack, even. None of these things were answered, both to ex-employees and to the public.

And here you are, jaw on the floor in front of the building.

The whole place is in ruins, a masking shell of an exterior, hiding the crumbling destroyed interior. The car park once so full, is empty and lifeless. There’s no smells of the greasy food inside, the delighted squealing of excited children… nothing.

It stands alone, withholding memories of joy and delight, all left to rot and die.

You climb the rickety wooden structures covering the front entrance, dipping through a broken window. Your only source of light is your phone now, you can’t turn back, not yet.

Would they even still be here? They’re expensive animatronics, top technology. Surely they would have been moved somewhere?

The idea of all the animatronics slumped against a wall, collecting dust in a dingy warehouse somewhere… it hurts your chest.

During your time here, you had been able to hear the occasional skittering and squeaking of rats in the walls. Now, without the catchy music playing over the speakers, you can hear almost too much. Actually, it feels like an invasion of privacy almost. The secrets hidden within the bowels of the Pizzaplex, calling your name, urging you to find out the fates of your friends.

You had stayed away for so long, desperate of the relief from the relentless tugging in the back of your head. It was for the best, surely. You don’t even know if the animatronics would even want to talk to you again, perhaps they wouldn’t be allowed to.

The cracked glass crunches beneath your boots, taking in the rushed graffiti littering what used to be the lobby. The giant golden Freddy statue is nowhere to be seen; the turnstiles half sunken into the ground.

So many memories have faded into the dust that scatters the carcass of the Pizzaplex.

The echoes of your footsteps give away your location to whatever might be hiding within the walls. It’s a labyrinth of twisted entrails, you’re forced to crawl through half-collapsed structures and broken vent systems, you’re not getting out of here without at the very least, a few scrapes and bruises. If you’re lucky and the animatronics are still here, you doubt they made it. Crushed beneath the heavy machinery of the abandoned building.

Your breathing becomes shuddery in the stale air as you think about what may happen if you can’t find your way back.

After hours of trying to find your way, you land on your face in the Daycare, spat out of whatever vent you were in.

There are no lights on, unsurprisingly. No music. No children.

The colours are faded, probably years of dust layering the mats. The plastic of the slides is scratched to bits, parts are seemingly melted.

“Moon?” Your voice sounds impossibly loud through the empty space, no longer dulled by standing support beams and the speakers, nor the hum of constant electricity.

A static sound cuts through the following silence, then a somewhat familiar sight emerges from a play structure.

There they are - The Daycare Attendant.

Broken, shattered, ruined.

Their face is split, filled with cracks and missing faceplate and their endo peeking through. Their fingers no longer tipped with soft silicone, instead pointed metal, almost human-like in appearance. The jester pants you once washed now filthy and torn, and whatever mechanism that caused Sun and Moon’s colours to change is long gone, the patterns blending into each other. One foot is missing under the torn pant leg, displaying some kind of spring mechanism. Their chassis is broken and cracked almost everywhere. They still have their ribbons, but the edges are singed and the bells are missing, even on Moon’s hat. One eye glows a sickly blood red.

“Moon…?” You repeat, trying to desperately swallow back the cry from your throat, your nose and eyes stinging.

He lurches forward, almost like a zombie. A static-filled voice fills your ears.

“Fr-end…” His word cuts out, it’s almost too difficult to hear him.

You immediately run over, halted by the way he stumbles back, wringing his exposed hands nervously. Does he blame you for your firing? Does he think you abandoned him?

“It’s me! I didn’t know if you guys were still here and- and-and-and-” Your sentence trails off into a stammering mess of poorly repressed sobs.

You didn’t even expect to find them here, and you had nothing prepared to say if you happened to stumble across them.

Moon’s faceplate squeaks in complaint as it ticks and spins, the occasional sunray jittering out briefly. He takes a small step forward, dragging his other leg slightly behind. The occasional sunray juts out when he shuffles closer, each ray that you’ve seen are horribly cracked or completely broken, paired with the screeches of rusted mechanisms as they move.

You only worked in the Pizzaplex for about five months before the employee purge, but you still remember crystal clear what they used to be like. The smooth and calm swaying movements of Sun when he talked, the way his rays spun when he was happy… now you don’t even know if his AI is still active after all this time of being in the dark.

You take a deep, shaky breath. “Moon, what… what happened to you?”

Once he’s only a few inches away, he struggles to sit down, his leg sliding out under him until he’s sitting criss-cross. “Fire.”

Another pang of guilt and sadness hits your chest. His optics flicker, flinching back slightly when you reach a hand to his faceplate, eventually leaning forward and allowing your hand to rest at the side of his face. Moon’s faceplate is much colder than you remember.

“Is Sun still… here?” You ask, rubbing some dust from his face.

He pauses, movements twitchy as he reaches a skeleton-like hand to yours. The metal is so cold it almost feels like burning. Their hands are no longer protected by the casings and silicone. His hand rests upon yours, long digits curled to keep hold of you. The empty halls and silent speakers allow you to hear each mechanism, even the movement of his eyes.

“He has not been out for a long time.” He states, brushing a thumb over your hand. “But he is here.” With his other hand, he taps his head with a clawed finger, and repeats his words. “He is here.”

“Oh you two I-I’m so sorry!” You pretty much throw yourself at them, but he allows you to settle in his lap, despite the discomfort of broken jagged pieces poking into your skin. “I got fired, and I didn’t even know–”

Moon shushes you as he would a child. His eyes flicker on and off at times, sometimes to that familiar purple, but he seems to be doing a good job of keeping it back. Whatever virus he had when you worked here, he still has it. And here you are, sitting cradled in his lap.

You don’t think you care, really. After all you did years ago to keep Moon away (or at the very least, a reasonable distance), it feels wrong to stay away any longer.

Rubbing your eyes from tears, you shuffle to sit up properly, hugging him, your head over his shoulder. It takes no time for him to throw his arms around you.

You don’t know how you’re going to get out of the Pizzaplex, you don’t remember which ways you took, but you’re determined.

“I’m gonna get you guys out of here, I swear.” You declare, pulling away and looking into his eyes. “I don’t know how, but I will.”

It takes a bit of effort for him to get to his feet, pulling you up alongside him, looking out into the ruins of the Daycare.

Management wasn’t too stealthy with their mistreatment and neglect of the Daycare Attendant, it shouldn’t be too surprising that, out of all the animatronics, they’re the only ones you’ve found. Despite only knowing them for about five months, you hadn’t realized how much they’d grown on you until you were fired.

“We know… a way.” He says, tilting his faceplate.

“How come you’ve stayed here then…?”

“We had no reason to leave. Now we do.” His smile widens a little on the crescent side of his face. “Hold on.”

You look up at the whirring of the cable, now jittering down until it reaches its target.

---The rest of this drabble is on AO3, where things get silly---

#dca fandom #fnaf dca #fnaf daycare attendant #emotional support staff #ESS #ESS drabbles #ESS Coffee Stains #crow writes #dca x y/n #dca x reader #moon x you #moon x y/n #moon x reader #sun x y/n #sun x reader #sun x you

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ronniezhou · 2 months ago

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Is that BROWNYN 'RONNIE' ZHOU? I heard the THIRTY THREE year old belongs to the NIGHTSHADE as a BOMB MAKER. I’d stay away from them if I were you. I heard they were OVERCONFIDENT, but they can also be RESOURCEFUL, so proceed at your own risk.

S T A T S

FULL NAME: Bronwyn Lan Zhou NICKNAME(S): Ronnie OCCUPATION: Bomb maker, although she tells everyone she's in animation

GENDER: Cis Woman PRONOUNS: She her NATIONALITY: American ETHNICITY: Chinese + White HOMETOWN: San Francisco USA SOCIAL CLASS: Grew up lower class, currently upper middle class EDUCATION LEVEL: BS in robotic engineering, unfinished doctorate FATHER: Frank Zhou MOTHER: Nina DeTourneau SIBLING(S): TBD CHILDREN: NOPE PET(S): TBD

B I O G R A P H Y

Bronwyn Zhao—better known as “Ronnie” to friends and fixers alike—was never meant to survive the world she grew up in, let alone outsmart it. Raised in a shitty apartment on the edge of Chinatown, Ronnie clawed her way through life with sharp instincts and a sharper tongue. Poor but preternaturally gifted, she made a name for herself by acing other people’s exams, ghostwriting dissertations, and building machines in her bedroom that schools couldn’t afford in their labs. The system never rewarded her, so she stopped pretending she wanted its approval.

She tried the route everyone told her to take—college, a future, something safe. Ronnie enrolled in a robotic engineering program with dreams of becoming one of those stories they trot out on scholarship brochures: girl from nowhere, makes it big. But it didn’t stick. The lectures bored her. The structure stifled her. She didn’t want to build robots for clean energy initiatives—she wanted to see what happened if you overclocked them and wired them to tripwire sensors.

She was social, shameless, and just cynical enough to stay two steps ahead. Ronnie didn’t ask questions when strangers paid her online to build “experimental timers” or “hypothetical detonation chains.” She figured it was some weird reddit survivalists, they were always into shit like that. She liked the challenge. It never crossed her mind that the message board was a recruitment net—until Nightshade showed up with real money, real consequences, and an offer she didn’t have the sense (or desire) to refuse.

Now, as one of Nightshade’s most inventive bomb-makers, Ronnie thrives in the liminal space between brilliance and disaster. She tells herself she’s just an inventor—that what happens after her creations leave her hands is above her paygrade. But deep down, some part of her knows she’s helping build the most lethal empire the city’s ever seen.

She lives well now—modest apartment, full fridge, occasional sushi—but makes a point not to look too closely at who’s holding the gun she just designed the trigger for. Ronnie’s charm, deflection, and occasional delusion keep her functional in a world she helped arm. She may be the friendliest face in Nightshade’s roster, but behind the grin is a mind that could burn this whole city down and still be proud of the blueprint.

H E A D C A N N O N S:

Ronnie still keeps her first homemade detonator in a cigar box under her bed—not because it works, but because it almost did.

She has a rule about never dating anyone who asks too many questions about her job, which leaves her mostly single and totally unbothered.

If you give her a soldering iron, a busted microwave, and 45 minutes, she can probably make something illegal.

She once blew up a car in a crowded parking garage just to test a containment method she invented—then calmly walked away eating a popsicle.

For someone who builds weapons for a living, she’s weirdly sentimental—she still sends her family money every month, even though they haven’t spoken in years.

W A N T E D C O N N E C T I O N S H E R E

#bloodnglory.intro

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