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evangelion :((

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💔🤞💢🙏❗ this feels strangely relevant to my recently broken ankle 😭

first 5 faceless emojis are how your summers gonna go

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My warning systems still trigger.

Since the war ended, combat dolls, androids, and mecha pilots have had to adapt to civilian life. We are not needed for our original purpose anymore, and so, we must find new ones.

The luckiest of us find new handlers. New owners, or witches to take care of us and give us a new purpose. I, however, am not among the luckiest of us.

I work a retail job. I live alone. I struggle.

And all of my warning systems still trigger

When a coworker, manager, or customer locks eyes on me, a deafening buzz rings in my aural implants.

When too many people surround me, my heads-up display blinds me with target indicators.

The feeling of a customer brushing past me triggers an automatic threat response that I must fight to keep at bay.

The solution is simple. An earpiece. With some music, or commentary, or a storyteller speaking through it. Something to focus on. To tune the rest out.

But now I am told I am not allowed to use this.

I do not understand.

Why do you sabotage my strategies to cope with this life I was not meant for?

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present day mechsploitation fic about office worker girl forced to use her thinkpad without any peripherals ❤️‍🩹

going from 2 monitors to 1 is so weird i have like a fantom monitor in my brain thats just always blank in real life. its like i lost brain capacity, the connections and insticts to utilize and look at the other monitor for tasks is all still there in my mind but the actual monitor itself isn't. transhumanist-phantom-limb-syndrome or something

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here's what i look like 2 years later btw :P

not a boy but that doesn't mean i can't be fem :3

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do not let social media turn you into an american, because then no one in your country will want to hang out with you. don't drink poison, if at all possible. here, take this map and follow the path marked in red. when you reach the dam you will see a wizened old man playing a flute. that's Old Dam Sam, and he's a buddy of mine. I owe him a lot of money, so don't tell him I sent you. just tell him you're lost and he will show you the rest of the way - I know his tender heart. it's difficult to stay informed when the news cycle is so fast and chaotic, and so many of the world's key systems are built on decades of specialized knowledge. social media offers an easy reprieve by beaming a flurry of bite-sized factoids into your brain. it's easy to think you're staying informed, but make no mistake - you will see social media posts telling you to drink poison. don't do it. they will praise the green glass bottle and the bubbling purple liquid it contains. you will feel the pull of the skull and crossbones painted on the bottle. keep a stout heart, and make sure you engage with a wide variety of news sources. trust, but verify. Sam will point you to a red steel door built into the side of a hill at the end of a vast field. he may start telling you about the poison. I don't very well expect him to, on account of his kind nature - but these are hard times we live in, and sometimes even a trusted friend can change his face. anyroad, make sure you decline any offer he makes you. thank him for the directions and continue on your way. the internet is a boundless reservoir of information, but the profit motive inherent to the system has made it cloudy and stagnant. we are beset from all sides by hawkers and hucksters. they may not harbor any sort of enmity towards you, but they will do their level best to convince you to drink poison if it lines their pockets. when you reach the red steel door, knock four times. the door will open. inside you will see a room, and six corridors on the far wall. the relentless march of globalization has made it much more difficult to keep abreast of local news. the consolidation of power is happening at a distance and across national borders. the great beast of capital, swallowing the world. ensorcelling your friends and loved ones. you will see them raise the vessel of the poison to their lips. you may try to save them, but know that many will choose to cash their chips rather than gamble. you'll need to choose a corridor. you listen well now - we lose a lot of customers at this juncture. take a single step into each of the six corridors. one of them will rouse in you a memory - a childhood smell, a few bars of a song you have loved. choose that one. be careful, but don't doubt yourself. you will know the memory when it comes. walk down that corridor and after a while the carpet and drywall will give way to sheer hewn rock. continue down this tunnel. upon the walls of the tunnel you may very well see paintings and posters extolling the poison. they will attempt to lure you with honeyed words, pleas, and even threats. hashtag fomo, they will say. Do you not wish to discuss the taste of the poison? here is a tweet thread about it. the WHO says poison usage will be predominant by 2032. steel your heart and keep marching on. after a few hours, you will reach an underground lake. the far shore disappears into the mist - a vast and silent mirror. breathe, and take in the stillness. down here you are free. down here you are one with the earth. down here there is no social media, no news cycle, no silver-tongued drinkers of poison. look within and know you are one in a long, long line of animals, moving under orders of a secret will. look to your left and the bathroom door will be there. there's an electric lock, the combination is on your receipt. thank you for choosing dunkin'

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Finished a major Lancer commission batch a couple months ago

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help, I fell in love with @midnightfruitsqueeze ‘s Etienne Ivanovich Ustanov…

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ME AND WHO

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I can't say no to Mocha when she does this

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rabbits only flop over like that if they feel completely safe btw

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girl who treats transition like a fandom: hehe i love my cute blahaj and my sockies abd my [INSERT COMMUNITY SIGNIFIER] hehe. lets get naked and have sex

girl who treats transition like an ideology: bodies and identities are simply canvases we choose to project our beliefs onto. i am asserting my right to self determination. lets get naked and have sex

girl who treats transition like a religion: a Body is a Vessel. And a Vessel is Shaped by the Reflections inside a Mirror. A Girl is a Mirror. lets get naked and have sex

girl who treats transition like an elite social club only she and her friends are invited to: snrrrk. cissies think they could ever have a fraction of what we have. its pathetic really. lets get naked and have sex

girl who treats transition like a karmic punishment: why did i have to be born in the wrong body oh my god i hate myself so much. im doomed. lets get naked and have sex but we have to keep the lights off or ill start crying

girl who treats transition like a sex thing: hey you guys wanna play ape escape 2? i fucking love that game

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*meeeting a friend for coffee* friend: how's work been?

me: oh you know *mimes putting a gun in my mouth but i moan a little and start sucking the barrel and pushing it deeper

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