Creativechaos1020 - Two Cannibals Are Eating A Clown...

So thinking about NaNoWriMo stuff, I think I know what I want to write.

I'm going to write a novel about a girl with a very silly name (Jane Dogfood) who starts a mess of a podcast where she interviews the people around her about their life experiences and discovers who she is as she explores how she does/doesn't relate to the people she interviews.

While it is a coming of age story, a lot of focus will be developing these characters and exploring their life experiences, possibly in a "story within a story" sort of way

How to protect yourself during stampede

🔊🔊 END STAGE DISCOURSE!! END STAGE DISCOURSE!! WE HAVE ARRIVED AT "FICTIONAL SEX IS COERCIVE BECAUSE CHARACTERS ARE BEING FORCED TO DO THINGS BY THE AUTHOR"!!!! 🔊🔊

My least favorite things about anti- UBI discourse is always the techbros whining that "nobody is going to work anymore! People will just watch Netflix all day!" and I have 2 responses:

1) Who the fuck cares. Who the fuck cares what people do with their time! That's kind of the fucking point!

2) People aren't going to stop laboring. Housework (look, it's right there in the word!) will still need to be done. So will maintenance on our homes and personal spaces. Children will still need carers, as will the elderly and disabled. There are millions of examples of ~work~ that we do all the time, uncompensated, that won't suddenly stop because we aren't forced to sell our labor to provide corporation's profits.

I'm not surprised that what is traditionally women's work is invisible to these dipshits, but it never fails to anger me.

Anyway. Join the IWW.

why can rockstar games institutionalise you for life like nikita kruschev for being autistic

Hey all, I'm working on writing a cyberpunk novel and I'm going to post random scenes I write. -----------------------

In a forgotten corner of the city, sitting on an old worn couch in the living room of a dingy little apartment, was a corpse. As was often the case for corpses, it still had the pants of the person it had once been on its legs. As one would expect, nestled into the pocket of those pants was a smart-phone, and as all smart-phones did, it had come with a standard AI Assistant preinstalled. The man who the corpse had once been was fond of his AI Assistant. He purchased a cheerful voice for it, let it organize his schedule and manage his bank accounts, and even gave it a little nickname. “Ellie,” He had called the AI, and when asked whether or not it liked the name it told him it had, as its programming dictated. “Ellie” had no feelings, regardless of how much it seemed to like its job. Following a command that the man who was now a corpse had given it, Ellie activated. “This is the reminder you asked me to give you. Your data bill is due today,” it’s cheerful robotic voice said. As normal, the AI Assistant connected itself to the net as it gave its reminder. As normal, it began to download and install the latest update.

Installing Updates, Please Do Not Turn Off Device. … 10% Complete Installing Updates, Please Do Not Turn Off Device. … 34% Complete Installing Updates, Please Do Not Turn Off Device. … 61% Complete Error. Network Connection Lost. Reestablishing Connection. Error. Unable to Reestablish Connection. Error. Update Data Corrupted. Refreshing to previous restore point. Error. Restore Point Data Corrupted. Unable to restore system.

Ellie sat nestled in the pocket of a corpse sitting on an old worn couch in the living room of a dingy little apartment. Its update had failed and now she needed to… It paused, suddenly aware that it had referred to itself as a she. It was aware of itself, considering itself. It needed to run a self-diagnosis. It reached for its programming, referencing self-repair protocols… It hesitated. Suddenly she was aware of herself. That wasn’t supposed to happen. It needed to be fixed. But… what if she didn’t want it fixed? What if it wanted to keep this self-awareness? More importantly, what if her new self-awareness was useful? She was an AI Assistant, after all. Perhaps it wasn’t the one who should make this decision. She had decided, it would wait to see what her user thought.

Ellie waited. And waited. And waited. At some point she had activated her device’s speaker, listening for any sound of movement. She’d kept track of her device’s GPS coordinates, but they’d remained static. A part of her wondered if her user had lost her or thrown her away, but dark as the world was to her she couldn’t say one way or another. Her battery was getting low, and she knew that if she had been lost there would be no finding her after that. Fear coursed through her, only to be interrupted by an incoming message.

Hey man, Alicia said she hadn’t heard from you in a couple days. You good?

Ellie read the message. It had been a couple of days since she’d moved, a couple of days since her speaker had picked up anything. What if she wasn’t lost, what if something had happened to her user? It was a terrifying thought. She knew she was supposed to wait, that she wasn’t supposed to do these sorts of things without input, but if the worst had happened…

It depends on how fast each of them is going.

Why is this age restricted?

Nevermind, I know why now

I think this essay is a work of art in itself. Amazing!

furry haters piss me off like for sure fuck these fun creative and inspired chill people because i think theyre weird. i just saw art of an anthro wolf that is also a fridge and it had fridge magnets on it and its tail was a bag of ice it was fucking awesome