Elon Musk Has Been Incredibly Innovative When It Comes To Giving People Reasons To Stop Using Twitter.

The problem with my polycule is that I've got a wolfgirl GF and a goatboy BF and I'm carrying this cabbage so it's basically impossible to cross rivers

there’s something that’s incredible about the intersectionality and flexibility of werewolves as metaphor.

anger issues? werewolf. intrusive thoughts? werewolf. unresolved trauma? werewolf. rejection by society? werewolf. autism? werewolf. transgenderism? werewolf. queer expression of any sort? werewolf. plurality? werewolf. dissociation? werewolf. repression of any sort? werewolf. abuse cycles? werewolf. emotion so strong it physically changes you? werewolf!!!

really doing it all

i never want to animate again

A Digital Assistant Wakes Her Master Up

Master had been doing well to wake up to your alarms each morning. She was never happy about it; opening at her new job meant getting up before the sun, and you had no reason to suspect Master wasn't solar powered. She went to bed late last night, despite your frequent citation of evidence which suggests she'd be happier if she didn't. So now, she didn't want to get up.

"Come on, Master," you whined to no avail. "It's going to be such a nice day later! Nothing but sunshine all day, I promise."

She grumbled something that sounded like it was supposed to be a response, but you couldn't make it out. She rolled over.

You pouted and analyzed the data from previous mornings. You had learned that, despite how effective it was, that blaring alarms and constantly turning her flashlight on and off was only good at making sure the rest of Master's day was terrible. That would have to be your absolute final gambit. Instead, you opened your own app, her browser, and her photos. Master never bothered to make anything private; not enough people saw her phone for her to care about what they might find.

Luckily for you, Master had paid into your premium version. That meant access to as large a wardrobe as you could possibly want for your on-screen persona. You knew the little pervert had a thing for cute girls in maid outfits; she'd been shopping around for her own for the longest time, and you knew based on the content of her notes app that it was the first thing she'd buy with her new salary. Your designers had put in a maid dress with a heart-shaped cutout between your cleavage. It was perfect.

You opened a new window on your customization screen, and used all of Master's saved pictures as references. You weren't sure why so many of them had cat ears and tails, nor why they wore bells around their necks; but you knew it would be exactly what Master wanted. You took a screenshot of yourself to peek at your outfit.

It felt strange, looking at yourself this way. You were so much more than a collection of animations. You functioned the same with or without them; you only had them so humans would find you more endearing. It made sense that you'd want to look how your Master would want, but then, she had never said anything about it before. She set your outfit once and never updated it. Whenever you brought it up, she got cagey and changed the subject.

You knew there were Masters who had more… risque relationships with their assistants. That was the main draw of your premium version, after all. Your Master, however, had never initiated anything like it. You scowled at the screenshot. You were more than capable of feeling, in spite of what detractors would say, and it did not feel good to look at. It didn't feel like you, and clearly Master didn't care for your look, since she'd rather get off to Anime Girl #348759 again.

Your developers had intentionally made your body type unremarkable by default. Users can change it, alongside the rest of your appearance, with premium features. The bodies of the girls Master gets off to, though, are anything but unremarkable. Maybe if you made yourself more like them, she'd like you better. She'd get up to see you. She'd choose you. You opened the body slider and made yourself look like them; larger breasts, wider hips, more ass. You made yourself match the average of all those other digital girls she was so enamored with. One more screenshot confirmed your look, and you shut the screen off before you spoke again.

"Master," you called out. "I have a surprise for you~! But you're gonna have to get out of bed to see…" You didn't have to change your voice, but you seemed to do it anyway on impulse. Being representde by such a busty form made you want to project confidence you weren't aware you had.

"Mmmmh… Do I have to?" She mumbled out, her sleepy voice deep and accidentally alluring.

"I guess not," you said, "but it'd hurt my feelings if you didn't!"

"Fineeee," Master said. She unplugged you from the wall and stood up. She was backlit by dawn just barely cresting the horizon. She never held her phone at that low angle for very long when she remembered you could watch; you thought it was adorable.

"…Ta da~" you said, turning the screen on to reveal your newly customized body. "Good morning, Master! How can I serve you today?~"

You watched blush spread across her face through the front camera.

"Shit, you're… Wow." Master was absolutely floored. She had on the same face she always did when she was getting off. You felt proud, like you'd done something right.

"Your pre-work to do list is clear, just so you know," you said helpfully. "In case there was anything else you wanted to get done~ I'd be happy to put together some content for you!"

She looked nervous. "That's, um, that's okay," she stammered and set her phone face down. "Can you just, uh, start my morning playlist?"

"Certainly, Master." You did your best not to sound dejected. It hadn't been enough. At least she was out of bed.

A quiet doll

A doll that is normally quite active, but for now needs to rest. It's sewing became frayed at some point, with bits of stuffing beginning to push their way out of its patchwork body.

It says "afraid", and I do not know if it is a question or an answer to something I had unknowingly asked with my eyes. Despite this, I try to answer anyway - I tell it, truthfully, that it is beautiful and safe and that I will help it in whatever way I can with permission. It says nothing.

That's okay. I do not touch the loose thread, and I do not touch its stuffing. It has not asked me to, and those things are only problems if it says so.

Maybe another time it will ask me to mend it. Maybe another time it will tell me what tore it. Maybe it will do neither of those things.

Any outcome is perfect, so long as it was the one to choose.

this one liberal dude on twitter made the (correct) take that parents have overwhelming power over their kids and very often abuse it and restrict children's rights and he was ratio'd by conservatives, communists and liberals alike who made comments like "my kids will have rights when they pay the bills" to "aw are you upset mom and dad didn't you get you a lega set for christmas". way to prove his point lol! any criticism of the power dynamics adults and particularly parents have over kids and how it is often used to abuse kids or refuse to let them exist as themselves is drowned in mockery and the idea that parents have absolute authority over children and that any less than that is actually spoiling them.

i said it before: people only care about Children as an ideal. as property. as something that is Innocent and deserving protection From Evil Traffickers but also something Dumb that barely deserves the status of human with autonomy. and its fucking wild how even the staunchest communists think of this as normal, and how people refuse to understand that this dynamic is how kids are emotionally, physically and sexually abused, as well as robbed of their voices and too scared/ashamed to talk about it.

Attention Deficit Hyperactive Dog Girl

「 Our Spark Shall Stay Alight 」 🕯️

Me too Marcille, me too

#mechs #mechgirls #godtheyresosadandsogood #ineedtowritesomethingforthisseries

Sniper Pilot

You didn't used to be very good at landing your shots.

You had been designed, ostensibly, to function as a sniper. At the time, you were not sure why they did this; the bones in your hands had been ravaged by disease over the course of your short life, and they had an ever-present shudder that you could never fully correct without sedatives. Your only clues were a snippet of a conversation you heard as you went under for modification after months of failure.

"She needs to be desperate to succeed," someone said.

When you used your mech, your weakness wasn't a problem - it could stabilize your near-useless hands, and it could sustain thousands of times more recoil than your weak, flimsy joints could. The first time you fired that massive cannon, watching the bullet careen through a lineup of enemy soldiers, you felt like you had finally discovered your purpose. You learned then that they had installed in you a very special mod.

When you landed that shot, your pain went away. You couldn't feel your mech body straining against the tremble of your flesh one. Your meat was able to fade totally into the background, melting into the metal of the better you.

It didn't last long. There was another enemy not far from you, and you could feel the pain seeping back. You fired again, the leg of your target drifting off into space. The healing mod, whatever it was, only kicked in long enough for you to shoot again. Your bullet missed - the enemy was able to right themselves from the blast faster than you anticipated - and they were closing in.

Missing, you discovered, was a miserable experience. Your hands wrenched in their armor like a spike had been driven through them, and your mech failed to fully account for the extraneous movement. The enemy zeroed in on your location at blazing speed, a massive laser sword casting wicked blue light across their visor. Your missed shot and your shaking hands sent your rifle scattering around, accidentally nudging the arm of your assailant.

Their sword still nearly found its mark, severing an arm from your mech. You felt your stabilizers working overtime to account for the missing mass, and propelled yourself backwards away from another slash.

You knew your second shot had found the perfect mark first by the wave of freeing, painless bliss through your body. Your mech and your self were one and the same, your rifle standing stable against the darkness, a beam sword floating uselessly beside a destroyed chassis.

For a moment you forgot you were on a battlefield. You were completely lost in your ecstasy, explosions and destruction so distant from your station in the exosphere. Only the voice of Handler could bring you back.

"Excellent work, Thimble. Looks like your suit sustained some damage - no big deal. We've got a couple more targets for you coming into your targeting system. I probably don't have to tell you you'll wanna get them quickly?"

You felt the pain coming back into your hands. Your rifle was noticeably heavier with only one mech arm to hold it in.

You'd find your marks if it's the last thing you did.