#writing technologies

[groceryinfoproject]

Braille text located on a Coinstar coin exchange machine. Latin script transliteration located above.

[nyancrimew]

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[talos-stims]

the computer blade | source

[loserlvrss]

𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ⟡ Mark Lee

( 六月 ). ─────you got my heartbeat to play to your time.

one thing about your boyfriend is that he would always take care of you 🫐📨 엔시티이민형 &fem!rea. ｡ ｡warn. ment. of being drunk, kiss 1THOU one shot, fluff, 𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒶.

노트 my bf btw click4more

It’s a good thing the elevator in your apartment hadn’t gone out yet, otherwise the man on your arm would’ve been upset—though he’d never let you know that.

He just loved you too much for that. And, you kept telling him about how much of a good night it was for you. Seeing old friends and getting drinks. He’d never dream of ruining that.

“Baby,” He stated quietly, pulling your arm around his waist higher, as it kept slipping. “Hold on, just a little longer…why’d you have to live on the 10th floor? Thank God the elevator isn’t out. Is the view really worth it though?” He watched the numbers climb, illuminated electronically above the door.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and though you were hunched against him, you willed your head up.

Deadpanning, you replied, “duh.” To which he just laughed at, “You just don’t get it, Mark! Have you seen it? It’s beautiful! Not more than you but, you know.”

“Many times—actually, I helped you move in, baby.”

You giggled, head falling into his side, “Y-yeah, you did…do you remember haechan falling up the stairs? He wasn’t even carrying anything heavy! Oh my god, it was so funny, I swear I peed my pants!”

Mark thought that, for a drunk girl, you were very good at not sounding slurred with your words. However, standing or walking in a straight line were two very different tasks for you to accomplish in this state. But, he thought it was cute that you thought of him to pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He loved that you loved him so much; shared so many memories with him and were still willing to make them.

And truthfully, he loved you more.

The elevator dinged, the voice telling you that the doors were now opening. Mark braced his arm around you tighter, hiking you up to be, at least a little, straighter.

You trudged along, holding back his attempts to keep a steady pace. You knew it was difficult to move on your own accord in your current state but, honestly you could’ve just fallen asleep on the floor if you fell.

“Work—with—me—here, y/n. Please,” He gritted, practically dragging your giggling figure, “Do you even want to sleep in your own bed?”

Your eyes narrowed soberly, “Are you staying?”

“Will that make you walk faster?”

As if possessed, the thought alone was enough to make you straighten your back and begin willing your legs to move—clumsily, of course, but you knew your boyfriend was still a crutch to make sure you didn’t hit the floor.

He laughed in disbelief, then relief once you two finally had made it to your numbered door. Mark put in the passcode and it chimed with satisfaction.

“You scare me sometimes, baby.”

You hopped in place, the door swinging open with the length of his arm. You slumped against the wall, unhooking the strap of your heels and kicking them off.

“Let’s go to bed!” And when you were about take off down the hall, a hand grabbed yours and stopped you—your feet comically still stomping in place. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you looked over your shoulder in confusion.

“First,” he started, leading you down the hall; for a moment you thought he just didn’t want you to run but, he turned off into your bathroom. Mark hit the switch and illuminated the room, your eyes shutting instinctively. “Your makeup.”

As if it was a daunting statement, you whined, trying to get out of his grip. “No.”

“You’ll kill me in the morning, babe,” He grabbed your waist, hoisting you onto the counter and trapping you with his body, “It won’t take long.”

Your pinky swung from the porcelain and into his view, “Promise.” You weren’t asking, and that made him laugh.

His pinky connected with yours, “Promise.” He replied adamantly, mimicking your movement and kissing the end of his balled fist.

He got to work, grabbing the remover and a couple cotton rounds. He gently swiped your skin, and you swear your head kept drifting to the side with tiredness. You couldn’t help that your boyfriend was the sole reason you could get a good-nights sleep.

Instead of trying to keep you up, he grabbed it, huffing out another laugh at your antics but, letting you fully fall asleep in his hand.

Mark admired you as he tried his best to get the mascara off, smudging it and making you look a little foolish. He thought you were cute; the way your lips were parted, small snores leaving them. The slight crease of your brows as he put your moisturizer and serums on. He swears he could feel his heart swell, knowing you were just that comfortable around him—so adamant to have him by your side—to have him love you.

And, he did.

He loved you so fucking much. His future was you. If he was your world, you were his sun. You were his lifeline. You were the one person he knew he could rely on without contest. If he was a producer, you were his muse. Everything revolved around you. Even if his thoughts weren’t originally for you, they’d eventually make their way back to you. He was excited to talk to you about anything and everything. He was blindsided by a love as strong as this mutual one.

He’d die for you, and that’s why he lives.

Honestly, he was so embarrassingly emotional right now for you, he could practically feel the tears welling up.

Mark swallowed the lump in his throat, grabbing the other side of your head and watching as you blinked yourself conscious.

You smiled sleepily, “When’d you get here, baby?”

He could feel your arms climb to be around his neck, pulling him and simultaneously pushing yourself to get body-to-body. You always craved the warmth (even subconscious) like you were cold-blooded.

“I’m always here.” He kissed the side of your mouth, whispering against your lips, “Now, let’s go to bed?”

© loserlvrss 2024 / 25. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱. reblogs & feedback appreciated networks : @kstrucknet @neocity-net

[glittertomb]

I miss the world being tactile. I miss pushing buttons. I miss switching over to your favorite radio station in the car without having to look, I miss punching in a customer’s phone number without having to look, I miss sending a sneaky text without having to look, I miss turning on my morning alarms without having to look… I miss pressing physical buttons for cash amounts and knowing that you did it correctly because you felt the correct release under your fingertips. I miss the satisfying clinks of my grandmother's 80's typewriter. I miss the crunching of gear mechanisms beneath the pads of my flesh. I miss the tick-tick-tick sensation. I don't want to touch and retouch a surface covered with the visible smears of thousands of fingerprints. I don't want to talk to my T.V. remote. I don't want a keypad to rise up as a smooth, steely reminder that our tools are losing the human feeling of texture, grit, and raw material. If I have to touch another screen I might die.

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 3/?

_______________________________

Jazz was vaguely aware that Blaster was studying his reaction – or waiting to see if he would give into impulse. But Jazz's excitement had crashed to a puddle of nerves, a bunch of unidentifiable nerves, and he felt anchored to the spot. "Did you find out anything new about – him?" He asked, unsure of… far too much. "Like is there anything I should know?"

"The whole team still has a lot to discuss about," Blaster hesitated, his tone twisting into distaste just before the pause. Yet, relented to whatever it was that was bothering him and continued calmly, "about… him. There isn't anything I have to share, sorry."

He knew the apology was insincere, a show, just another part of the performance. They were friendly, but not friends.

Blaster had always been the one that told him more about what was going on around them than most ever had his whole life. He actively tries to get closer to him more than any past caretaker has and listens to Jazz. A flaw rather than a improvement for their first few years together as Jazz was prone to lying. Still was, but he do so less often and was more withholding the truth with Blaster. But Jazz couldn't quite bring himself to honestly trust him. He did, but not really. Because Blaster was still staff.

And the staff were currently hiding something, something they either didn't want Jazz to know or something they thought he wouldn't understand, so it was pointless. Jazz looked up at him with a – fake and flawless from practice – understanding smile, with the next line in the script. "It's okay."

Blaster smiled back, one that was genuine, than asked, "you calmed down enough for a check up? I got to keep an eye on your blood pressure."

Rather than answer with words, Jazz turned away from the gate and headed for the slope on the pier.

—

He spent the next two hours before dinner between quickly checking the clock and floating in front of the gate. The other orca hadn't even moved, and if not for the clear sound of steady breaths, Jazz would have probably started to freaking-out – okay, he was already freaking-out, but it was back on how he was going to talk with the wild mer. Or, heck, where to start on what to say.

The last thing Blaster said; before finally going home after a busy fourteen hour day, was that there was no need to worry if the wild mer slept until tomorrow. His wounds would recover faster if he didn't move, if anything it was a good thing. For now, went unsaid.

Thus, dinner came and went. Still asleep.

Day staff signed off and night staff came by to sneak a peek. He could pickup on them with his sonar coming by the bay window, but each time voiced disappointed that they couldn't see anything due to the hammock's position. Still asleep.

Dusk came and Jazz struggled to stay awake, exhaustion was finally catching up to him. Still asleep.

—

A wobbling keen caused Jazz to flinch and peek one eye open. It was probably the middle of the night with how dark it still was. As he blinked awake and stretched, his tired brain suddenly realized it understood that sound, that word – {where?}

Jazz quickly rolled over and looked towards the wounded mer. Not quite able to see, but was getting enough of an image of movement with his sonar. Combined with the sounds of shifting fabric and soft rattle of metal supports, Jazz could tell he was awake.

A weak questioning call followed along with a faint splash.

Ah, right, uh–! Jazz panicked for a moment, he didn't want him to become frightened and reopen his wounds, or think they were somewhere all alone. Diving down to an old memory and remembering the warmth, Jazz hoped he could convey his words with comfort, {it's okay… you're safe.}

He didn't get a vocal response, but they became still and within a few minutes, Jazz heard the soft steady breaths once more. He had fallen back to sleep and Jazz couldn't help but smile a little. It wasn't long before he also drifted back off as well.

—

Prowl groaned as he moved, he ached all over, but was given some pretty nasty tugs of sharp pain to remind him of just how bad it was. As he opened his eyes, though still groggy, he took a quick note of the situation as he looked about.

The space. Dim lighting, white walls, an air pocket room with a shallow pool, two doors; one in the water, one on an above-surface area – unusual. Sonar was giving almost unreadable imaging and with a limited range due to other sources of interference – there was a lot of noise to sort out. But he was getting what looked like corridors on one side, large open space on the other. Overall, a simple structure.

His position. A hammock – a bit too snug, unable to rollover, but acceptable comfort.

Injuries. Multiple points of laceration on his arms, flank and tail; claws from other merfolk. Deep punctures along his left side; teeth of a leviathan. Of both arms, the left has more damage and is pinned in a solid net-like cast; potential fracture. Cuts are held shut by a bright coloured, mesh-like covering that clings tightly to his skin by an adhesive, rough to the touch, but not uncomfortable or irritating – likely breathable to reduce infection during the healing process.

Additionally, he noticed in his inspection that his claws had been filed down to his fingers. Irritating, but not unexpected given the extreme caution most give to someone like himself. But in all, this was not first-aid, the treatment is professional.

Conclusion: local clinic.

Prowl gave a breath of relief and relaxed. Someone must have found him adrift after the skirmish and rushed him to a near by town or village. As everything was far to modest to be a big city hospital.

Suddenly, he sensed movement that went over him swiftly and looked up. But whatever it was was gone. Prowl was only picking up empty space above the light-blue ceiling. Then another zipped by. A bird?

Prowl felt everything slow to a stop as cold dread sunk into his bones. That wasn't a ceiling.

That was the morning sky.

_______________________________

I hope I have the right understanding of how advanced the merfolks civilization is... otherwise this is really awkward. >_>; I also wanted to give Jazz at least one human that is trying to make things better for him and be on his side (he's secretly providing inside information to mer activists and trustworthy researchers). Blaster worked hard to gain the position he has to be Jazz's lead caretaker, but fighting the system and working with in it (or risk being replaced by a yes-man) is a frustrating balancing game.

Sorry this one is so short. The next part is going to be really long as Prowl and Jazz get finally meet! I hope it is worth the wait. QuQ

Thank you for the hug, I return the hug!♡♡♡

-GLC

Oohoh my god oh my

The waitinggggggggggggg. Jazz is slowly going insane and so am I *dies*

Upd: I linked all the parts written by GLC together>:D

Link to the previous part

Next

Also the fact that Blaster is actually gives the information away to those activists??? MUAH. SO GREAT. This would also be a pretty solid reason for why Jazz and Prowl wouldn't get separated after the uh. Haha. The violent incident. Imagine if Blaster immediately got the security tapes and uploaded them somewhere? Kinda like it was with Black fish documentary uncovering the murders done by captive orcas?

Point is. People would see that "oh no those two poor mers defend each other so much they turn violent when separated" and pressure the Aquarium to keep them together. Maybe I sound stupid here but it does make sense in my head. It's really nice for Jazz to have someone on his side is what I'm saying. I love that:>

Separately. The tiny interaction they have is so soft and gentle I'm gonna melt. The little {you're safe}?? AUGH

I can't wait for them to interact IM DOING THE JAZZ ARC IN REAL TIME BASICALLY JUST FREAKING OUT OVER THE FUTURE COVERSATION AHAHDKMGMHMFNFMGMF

Also

Prowl: That's a weird looking underwater facility....

A bird: flies

Prowl:

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

just picturing ax pointing at the death note anime/manga/whatever adaptation going "YOU SEE! BOOKS ARE THE SUPERIOR TECHNOLOGY! WHY ELSE WOULD THE SHINIGAMI HAVE NOTEBOOKS AND NOT COMPUTERS!" 😂

Exactly!

Books also:

Can't be hacked

Can only be "deleted" with fire or lots of other physical effort

Don't contain ads

Involve permanent ownership

Aren't under corporate control

Are a permanent record that can't be edited without it being obvious that that happened

Retain all their value after several reads and several owners

Get exchanged freely between strangers

Have everything that NFTers act like they invented

Like, K.A. Applegate was onto something. Books really are the superior technology, especially when compared to an enshittified internet.

[seraphinitegames]

Feel free to ignore this if it has been asked before.

I think N dislike for modern technology is pretty much common knowledge by now, and A isn't much better, BUT! why is M not sharing there views? It's mentioned that they are over 100 years but they easily embrace the modern world and never complain about it (unless it's the weather or people).

M is very good at adapting. It's definitely one of their major strengths! M just takes things as they come.

A and N are less able to do this, especially N!

F is the kind of person who sees something once and just gets it, so they're also just able to go with the flow. Especially as they love learning new things anyway!

Thank you so much for the ask! :)

[enneadau]

EMERGENCY AUTHOR UPDATE

I feel like this needs to be warned about. Everything on Ao3 that isn't set to private, HAS been data scraped and fed to 3 data sites that provide data for AI training, including writing and artwork.

Yes, this includes my entire Ennead series and everything else I've ever written and posted. As well as anything you all have written but not made private.

Ao3's legal team is fighting it and one site has made the data unavailable, but the other two aren't based in the USA so the fight is harder.

This is frustrating and upsetting news, especially for those of us who now need to pick between our Guest readers who have supported us for a long time and protecting the hard work that we've put our hearts and souls into and I just ask that we support each other and our choices during this time.

The link here has more details but from now on, until I can be sure there's a way to protect my work, which I've spent decades writing and planning, my stories will be posted for members of the site only.

[starry-songs-canvas]

Red Robin and the Undead Earpiece.

Back again with another prompt! Although, I might start branching out to a couple of different fandoms in the future, idk.

Tim, when he was going on his Lazarus pit destruction crusade, accidentally drops his comm link in said pit. He was able to fish it out, and aside from the slight glowing, still works fine. Yay for durability!

Things are normal, and apparently Lazarus water encrypts his comm, who knew. But then he starts hearing teenagers voices over it, going on about ghosts, avoiding the government, and even their parents hunting them down.

Unfortunately, the Lazarus waters encryption work both ways, so Tim is having difficulty pinning down where the signal is coming from. At least he can give a few friendly tips to these young heroes.

Tl:dr, Tim drops his earpiece into Lazarus waters and can now hear everything team phantom is saying over the radio.

[life-spire]

[markkiatocafe]

love language by txt and either mark or jaehyun plssss

a short story with jaehyun of nct 127

✉︎ warnings: a little teeny tiny bit suggestive, other than that pure fluff!!!!!!!

✉︎ synop: jaehyun just being an acts of service & quality time boyfie ♡

✉︎ pairing: impliedfem!reader x nonidol!jaehyun

✉︎ w.c: 245

✉︎ a/n: i got a little carried away with this tbh… i hope it still meets your standards anon!!!! i hope the rest of you all enjoy this too <33

jaehyun was a warm lover. slow dancing, long kisses, warm coffee, and wine were the epitome of his vibe. anytime you were out together, which was often, you didn’t have to have a single doubt in your mind that you were safe. he was a quality time and acts of service guy, if you will.

if your skirt was riding up, his hand would be there to delicately pull it down. if your hair was a little messy and you even reached for the hairbrush, he would’ve beat you to it, tenderly combing through your hair. if you were cold, better believe there was already a jacket around your waist at the first shiver. 

speaking of jackets, if you were going out with friends, best believe he always asked to join. he was never pushy, but he couldn’t help but pout a little if he wasn’t invited along. still, he wished you well and told you to stay safe. if you were reading a book on the couch, he was pulling you into his lap as we speak. if you were doing work on your computer, he’d sit next to you and make sure to give you water every once in a while. if you were scrolling on your phone in bed, jaehyun was curled up behind you, arms wrapped around your waist and pulling you into his chest. he just loved spending time with you and taking care of you, as simple as that.

[dirtbagcore]

the brainrot is extreme. heres another silly doodle (ノ≧▽≦)ノΞ●~*

+ obligatory close up of the cute little faces lol

[mad-girlslove-song]

the shittiest human art will always be leagues better than the best ai "art". a child's finger paintings and macaroni crafts will always be better than a computer's subpar attempt at recreating the starry night. your stick figures and smiley faces will always surpass an algorithm's bastardized boticelli painting. the most mediocre hallmark movie will always be better than whatever bullshit sora churns out. the most cringeworthy "i'm 14 and this is deep" notes app poetry will always be better than whatever chatgpt can come up with. always

[stromblessed]

I’ve hit that point where there’s so much about Arcane that I want to discuss and level-set about for my own sanity

only to realize that it doesn’t really matter because season 2 was so noncommittal and so defanged, it unravels season 1 too. Like you really just have to discuss season 1 as its own entity. Looping season 2 into deeper discussions actively makes season 1 crumble into something just as derivative and just as thematically lost. Just imagining that season 2 was what the writers were angling for even in the final drafts of season 1 makes me so sad