#AI automatic trading

[thenecromancerredz]

자동매매로 5억번 평범한 직장인 | 비트코인 선물 AI 자동매매 거래법

[tf2heritageposts]

sharks, i’m offering 10% of my company for 100k. it’s a web app that uses crypto and AI to help people trade hats easier, and will automatically spend money from the user’s bank account on extra keys and ref if the trade isn’t equal.

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

How can you make Cawl "better" Say another techpriest does some wacky stuff that changed the lore. How woudl you write it? sorry if i wrote it mean

If they absolutely had to have him make his primaris marines and his automatic plasma weapons and his funny AI, fine. GW wants to sell minis and those things alone place him around the intelligence level of someone like Amar fucking Astarte. That is a huge compliment. That is insanely impressive and still actively undoes like half the Imperium's tech shortcomings via a series of illogically "secret" tech advancements.

What they shouldn't have done. What they couldn't help but do, right, is have the overlong slab of plot devices show off how smart he is by diminishing other factions. Why is he able to reverse-engineer the Pharos device? Why should he know where all the blackstone is? Why should he know how to jailbreak scarabs and modify engrams, one of the single most advanced pieces of tech in the entire fucking setting?

If GW must have someone's early-era ff.net OC clogging up the setting, he would be massively improved by actively showing that he doesn't understand xenos technology, and that he realises his lack of comprehension is a frustration and a problem that cannot be brute forced. That he must further commit heresy by engaging in diplomacy with them, and he's not good at it. Give him a shred of depth. Make him a character. As it stands, he is the narrative equivalent of a person whose entire personality trait is "I need everyone to know I am smart and they are not", except he's being constantly rewarded for it.

Fabius Bile is a thousand times better than Cawl because he's limited, despite his intellect. His reincarnation process is endlessly flawed. He's only as good as he is because he had to go and learn from the Drukhari, who he still acknowledges are smarter than him. He has to fight for quality resources, for gene-seed, for access to materials, for his authority. He has to bargain and trade. He has to do things involving Eldar without understanding them, to his aggravation and intrigue. His brilliance at cloning keeps biting him in the ass. He's interesting because of that constant challenge.

[half-man-half-lime]

Plagued by wanting to yell NO IT'S NOT at the anti-AI crowd who say AI is theft, and to yell YES IT IS at the pro-AI crowd who say it's not theft

Or in a not-snappy-and-funny way of saying things, a huge portion of the anti-AI crowd, while genuinely fighting for their futures against something that will be damaging and harmful to the artistic profession and presents a new kind of intellectual property issue, act like a superstitious angry mob who treat the technology like the devil, go on rants about the true spirit of creativity or whatever that are dumb and irrelevant, incidentally go to some ableist places, and spread misinformation about how it works, while supporting misguided changes to copyright that will do a tremendous amount more harm than good. (Obviously the threat to artists is a bigger priority than how annoying they are about it, but BOY do they make it hard)

And a lot of the pro-AI crowd seem willfully ignorant of the threat and harm the technology poses, present false binaries about copyright law and the nature of intellectual property (hey, it turns out that Disney's abuse and distortion of copyright law doesn't mean there's nothing beneficial to small-time creators in the original intent of the law! It's possible to create laws and precedents about this stuff that don't automatically make things worse!), and act like the conceptual similarities to how human artists take inspiration from other work and other specific mechanics of the technology not being literal copying and pasting means there's no threat to the artistic trade as a whole (and that such a threat isn't conceptually disturbing in ways other forms of automation aren't necessarily), and that a machine that can accurately imitate someone's style with high speed and volume of output without the human judgement or work put in doesn't represent a MASSIVE exploitation of someone's individual labor and a unique new kind of violation of their creative voice that collages and parodies don't

[bumpkinspice0]

Parallels: Chapter 4

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!FemReader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI!!!)

Word Count: 2564

Summary: Miguel calls you into the tower for a mysterious one on one meeting.

Warnings: Descriptions of blood being drawn, Needles (I tried to be as vague as possible, I don't now how this works), Tension, lil kisses No smut this time. Don't worry, we make up for it in the next one ;)

Previous

Series Masterlist

AO3

Chapter 4

Business as Usual

You crawl further into the dark corridor just outside the Spider Tower lobby. You bring your knees to your chest with a heavy sigh. Miguel had called you in personally. Rather than go directly to his wing you found a dark little corner to hide in. You wouldn’t have to talk to him if he couldn't find you. Genius.

Then again, if you didn’t want to talk to him you would have just stayed in your own dimension. Christ, you jumped so fucking fast when you got the alert from Lyla, you didn’t even change into your suit. An actual meeting with Miguel. One-on-one. Isn’t that what you wanted?

Apparently not. 

As soon as you stepped into the tower all your confidence wilted like a cut flower. He’s probably furious with you. How could he not be after how you left him in the training room? Still, it was pretty hilarious.

You just had to let your cocky pride take the wheel.

One week had passed since then, he was probably weighing all the cons about actually letting you stay. He was the head honcho and you were a distraction to him. He’d made that abundantly clear. You know a leader like Miguel wouldn’t hesitate to remove any obstacles in his path.

So, here you were hiding in the dark spaces of the tower, too nervous to go to his office but too anxious for an answer to go home.

“You know I can just tell him you’re here and he’ll come find you, right?” Lyla illuminates in front of you. 

“ Have you told him I’m here?” you ask, a pit forming in your stomach.

“Not yet,” She glances down at her nonexistent nails. You always felt she had a personality all her own. She couldn’t just simply be a program. A complete consciousness beyond the yellow pixels— maybe.

You sigh into your hands, “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“Didn’t say. Just told me to call you right away.”

“That sounds like trouble,” You lean back against the wall.

“Everything does when it comes from Miguel,” she glitches to your side. “Only one way to find out?”

You stare at the light just beyond your little hiding space. At the countless spider people just like you doing their part to save what they can. Was all of this about to be ripped away from you? 

“He really didn’t tell you what it’s about?” you ask the AI companion. 

“I literally just told you everything he told me.” she looks annoyed, with every right to be.

You pick yourself up with a groan. You’re a big girl. A freaking superhero. You’d faced mad scientists, hundreds of armed henchmen, and literal monsters. You could have a regular adult conversation with Miguel fucking O’Hara.

___

Well, you just traded the only other dark corridor of the tower for another. Miguel’s wing was the darkest-lit science lab you’d ever seen. Dozens of machines and seemingly long abandoned experiments lined the walls. Several small spider-like robots scurry about the place, attending to whatever their programmed tasks were.

The automatic door shuts behind you, blocking off any of the remaining ambient white light from the citadel. Your eyes quickly adjust to the dim red lighting of this apparent mad science lab.  This was the house of a man that liked to stay busy. Was running a multi-dimensional superhuman strike force just not enough? 

You take a deep breath and walk further into the belly of the beast. 

“Hello?” you call out into the seemingly endless room of science projects and low lighting. Your spider-sense was a faint hum in the back of your head. He was nearby, but not close. Honestly, why did he call you in if he wasn’t going to be here? Unprofessional.

You come to the open, and seemingly only well-lit, part of the room. A platform a few feet above the ground stood in the center. Several monitors and a swivel chair adorned the odd structure. Was that his… desk? 

You hop up on the platform, calling out his name in hopes of any kind of reply. Still nothing. Well, you’re sure he wouldn’t mind if you waited for him here— near all of his computers, top-secret paperwork, and personal effects.

You take a spin on the desk chair, getting a basic cursory glance at everything. Security footage of the tower, various problem points in the multiverse, and some equations you don’t understand. All in all— disappointingly boring.

Then something catches your eye at the corner of his desk, it’s small and neon green. A vile of some sort, loaded into an injection gun. Upon closer inspection there were several of them all lined up on a wheel, each one no larger than your thumb, holding what looked like pure poison. Something in you said this was more than just one of his little side projects. It was here on his desk, dozens of them ready to be loaded into an injector gun. 

Before you can inspect further, the low hum in your head bursts into a panic alarm. He’s here. A  loud thud rings out behind you and you turn to see him standing in the center of the platform— heavy shadows cased across his face making him look more menacing. 

“Hola, arañita ,” he greets you emotionlessly.

You shrink in the chair, “Uh, hi.”

“Making yourself comfortable I see,” he scoffs, turning to his monitors. He deactivates a few, “You know, if you wanted to snoop you could have just asked Lyla.”

“She’d rat me out in a minute,” you chuckle, mostly to yourself.

“Sounds like you're ratting yourself out,” he says, nonchalantly.

Touché.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have snooped around your creepy room if you were actually here when you called me.” You retort.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have started attending to the million other tasks on my plate if you’d have actually come when I asked instead of hiding around in the tower for an hour,” He turns to face you, his face still stern and cold. Ah, so he knew you were getting cold feet.

Touché again.

Regardless of how good his comebacks were, he was still infuriating. “You know, I’m not some dog, O’Hara. You can’t just keep me at your beck and call.” You’re getting more defensive than you’d like. 

“Mhm,” he lazily raises his eyebrows, “And yet here you are.”

“Fuck. You.” Well, this was going just as swimmingly as expected. You take a moment to gather yourself, burying your face in your hands and taking a deep breath. You’re a superhero. You’re fucking Spider-woman. “Why did you call me, Miguel?”

“I need your blood,” He says without hesitation. 

Well, that was… what?

“Dude,” you immediately swivel away, “I thought the vampire thing was a joke.”

“What vampire thi— For experiments.” he clarifies, as if that made it any less weird, “I need to conduct some experiments on both of our genetics.”

You pause for a moment. “You’re gonna see why we feel this way around each other?”

He jumps off the platform and starts rummaging around a nearby table. Several of his little robots come to assist him on the tabletop, “I’d like to know why. Wouldn’t you?”

“I mean, yeah I guess,” You swing down to meet him, “I really do, actually. I just thought… you called me here to yell at me. I thought you were mad at me.”

“I am mad at you,” He says without stopping his digging or granting you the decency of eye contact, “Made Lyla call a fire drill so I could get back to my room. I really liked those sweats, by the way. You owe me a pair.”

You’ve never had to work so hard to hold back a laugh in your life.

“Well, you owed me a new suit like a month ago, so consider us even,” you lean on his workstation. He’s unboxing various medical supplies from a kit. Test tubes, iodine… a needle. Blood for experiments, right. God you fucking hated needles.

“You could have gotten a new suit on the 43rd floor,” He starts to label the various test tubes, “We have everyone’s designs downloaded. Lyla can scan your body and have a new one made for you in 10 minutes. I assumed you would have gone there.”

“We have a freaking tailor?!”

“It’s in the handbook.”

“No one reads handbooks.”

“And look how that worked out for you,” he tuts as he rounds the desk. You think you catch a small glimpse of him smiling to himself. Just a glimpse. All his supplies were neatly lined up on a white cloth. He turns on a light, illuminating a blue leather-bound medical chair. He gestures to it, “Sit. Please.”

You walk around the desk and take a seat in the chair. You roll up your sleeve and sheepishly place your arm on the armrest. He kneels at your side. The gloves of his suit phased away. He wraps a small band around your upper arm and gently runs his fingers over the crease of your elbow, locating the optimal vein. Despite how clinical all of his actions are, your spider sense immediately jumps as soon as he touches you.

He glances up at you, “You feel that too, huh?”

“That obvious?” You cover your face with your free hand, only slightly mortified.

“Less obvious when it happens to both of us at the same time,” He starts rubbing a small swatch of iodine over the area. 

“Have you done this before?” you ask, suddenly feeling more sheepish than earlier.

“I’m a geneticist,” He answers plainly. A long pause was your reply, “Yes, many times. You’re in good hands,” He clarifies.   

“I don’t like needles,” you admit.

“No one does. I’ll make it quick, I promise,” He says with all the confidence in the world. His calm demeanor was admittedly working in your anxiety's favor. He reaches over and a small robot brings the tubes and needle to his hand. He places them on a small table next to you. He begins unwrapping the sterile supplies, glancing up at you, “Why were you hiding in the tower?”

So he’s making small talk to distract you. He has a decent bedside manner, who knew? 

“I… thought you were gonna fire me.”

He pauses his work, glancing at you again, “Fire you? From the strike force?”

Admittedly, a wave of relief washes over you when you see the faint confusion on his face.

“I mean yeah. I don’t think it’s that unreasonable a conclusion.” You sigh, slouching down further in the chair, “I bet you’ve thought about it.”

He swivels back over to you, needle ready in hand. “It… crossed my mind. You’re going to feel a pinch,” He gently holds your arm. You immediately look away, face contorting at the sharp pressure before it subsides into a dull ache. He continues, “But, this isn’t your fault, it’s mine. I should have done more research. Looked into you more. I could have predicted this.”

And what if he did predict this weird connection? Would you still be here?

“Would you still have let me join if you did?” you ask before you can stop yourself. 

He pauses longer than you’d like, “I don’t know,” he says honestly, “But you are here. You’re a good Spider-Woman. We’re lucky to have you.”

It’s the most basic of compliments, but just knowing that it came from him sends your heart racing and your spider sense buzzing in gratitude. The king of Spider-kind says he’s lucky to have you. How sweet.

“I’m happy to be here.” You say with small a smile.

“All done,” The sharp pain in your arm is replaced with pressure. You turn back and he removes the small tourniquet, holding a gauze over your injection sight. Four test tubes of your blood are all neatly lined up on the side table. That was quick.

“Now what?” You ask.

“Now you let me run a few tests and I’ll get back to you.” 

“And in the meantime?”

“Business as usual.”

“I’m not fired?”

“Not fired,” he nods, “But I still say you owe me a new pair of sweatpants. Hold that.” He instructs you to keep holding pressure while he pulls off a strip of medical tape.

“Noted,” You bring your arm to your lap, instantly missing the warmth of his touch. You’re not sure if it’s the sense acting up or your own feelings. Wouldn’t they be one and the same? You don’t know anymore. The lines of either felt blurry around Miguel. 

He rolls back to your side and tapes the small gauze to your arm. He unwraps a small alcohol pad and wipes off the remaining yellowed iodine.

“Cold,” You shiver at the contact of the cold alcohol swab.

“ Aw, Pobrecita,” he coos. The sarcasm in his tone is evident but his touch is still gentle. He takes a moment and runs a thumb over the soft skin of your forearm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. 

You can feel your sense singing in joy at the contact— on the borderline of morphing into arousal. He had to feel it too. Was he testing the limits? You suppose you had to find them if you both had to learn to live with this.

“You feel it?” he asks, voice dropping an octave.

“Yes.”

He raises your arm to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist. It sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“Did you feel that?”

“Yes.”

He moves up, placing another kiss on your forearm. Another jolt accompanied by a hitch in your breathing. His lips seared the nerves of your skin in the best way possible.

“And that?”

“Yes.”

A kiss on your shoulder. It was becoming too much. Each time he kissed you it was like a shot of adrenaline straight to your heart— every sense in your body dialed up to 11. You’d wanted him so fucking bad, and he was finally so close now.

Before you can rip his suit off, an alarm blares through the room. 

“Boss!” Lyla materializes at his shoulder. He drops his head with an annoyed sigh. Is it selfish to say you were happy to see he was just as disappointed as you were? Probably. He turns to the virtual assistant. She continues. “Category 6 anomaly. Universe 818. Might be a full sinister crew.”

He immediately stands, mask and gloves materializing. “Call Ben and the local spider.”

“I’ll go too,” you stand up.

“Ah, ah, ah, arañita,” Miguel gently guides you back down to the chair, “You just gave blood, plus you’re in civilian clothes.”

“I feel fine,” your a little offended at his insistence. “I’ll run to the 43rd floor and grab a suit.”

He shakes his head, a portal materializing behind him, “Next time, little spider. Next time.” he backs into the portal, and in a flash of light, he’s gone. Off to save someone else's world.

The faint trill of your spider sense still lingers in his absence, as if reaching out for something that wasn’t there. You lean back into the chair with a sigh.

“Well?” Lyla materializes next to you, “How’d it go?”

You stare at  the ceiling for a moment, “I’m not fired.”

___

Translations: Hola, arañita- Hello, little spider Aw, pobrecita- Aw, poor thing

And of course, if I got any Spanish wrong please let me know ❤️

And holy BALLS thanks for the comments! I would die for all of you

[inkedwingss]

Does a writer love to write?

Oh, to be a writer! A poet, an artist. What a blessing — or a curse? I said this before, as a joke, that "writers are cursed to write, no matter what" happens or how long it takes between intervals. Writers will write. They might struggle, mostly inside their own heads, but they will write. And they will feel accomplished for doing that.

During my block time, I used to try and try to write, not because I had to, but because I couldn't help but to keep trying and writing the weirdest words, absolutely nonsense shit — until one day, I went back on track. Not writing was never an option. I tried to give up this, many times when I was at a bad place mentally. I felt that I wasn't a writer because I wasn't writing, but this only led me to this previously shared conclusion I keep as a mantra:

"I do not write because I want to be a writer, I write because I am one."

Some people will lick an artist's shoes and treat them as their saviour. This is the same type of people who might think having a degree makes them automatically smart, that every doctor knows what they are doing, and that artists are somehow a superior class of people. I was talking with my beloved @goodluckclove about it today (the main reason I'm writing this), about how being an Artist, or a Writer, is just another job, like being a Teacher, a Baker, a Parent, a CEO or a Janitor. Some artists will even tell you they had no "talent" at all, they just decided to commit and learn. I can draw and I always tell people that it is pure muscle memory. Just practice. Just commit.

But there is also that sparkle, that inspiration, that epiphany, right? That thing that art causes. What makes some works of art shine and hit you with eternal impact? Just practice? This is a long, deep, crazy, boring, infinite debate, but to me the answer is simple.

It's the soul.

That's why AI will never be able to do it. The soul carries memory, information, patterns, feelings, mysteries, and language (unspoken, holy, different languages, that we don't know much about). Some works are technically fantastic but soulless. Some are full of soul, but lack skill. However, the soul is always a part of it, as it is for a doctor when their soul shakes in grief after putting everything they had in for a 72-hour surgery just to lose their patient. Everything goes through the soul. Have you met a soulless doctor? I have.

What about a teacher helping a student to overcome their difficulties? A mother in a 72-hour labour to deliver her baby, with a father who didn't leave her side? Parents that actually take their time and energy to raise conscious, cared for and loved human beings? When a CEO thinks of what is best for the team, and comes up with a brilliant idea, instead of just caring about money? When a janitor makes a place clean and tidy for others, instead of neglecting it? It is not the job itself that is important, but the motivation, the intention, and the heart behind it. That is what makes it valuable.

Our trades will always affect the ones around us. Human nature is deeply connected to the desire to be useful and serve. Not to be stuck at this point forever, but to me, a big reason for so much pain and depression in the modern world is how self-centred our culture pushes us to be. "All about me"! Too much thinking in your head will make you crazy (I would know). But when we are useful, we find peace and rest from ourselves, we connect, and we are in reality, grounded in the present.

Will you love it every time? Nope. Not naturally. But do we have to hate it?

As an artist, poetess, writer, I can tell you that I didn't always love to do it. Sometimes, it was painful. Sometimes, it brings me physical discomfort or it can be disturbing because of my own limitations and issues — the artist himself is in his work (I will die on this hill, because of the soul). But I don't believe and I won't ever advocate for the tortured artist figure, for the "I hate being a poet", although I can't think I ever got these words from any poet.

"I hate making art!" "I hate my kids!" "I hate to live!"

I think it's time to wake up to the levels of desensitisation we have come to. These contemporary times unfold in absolute glorification of evil as if everything painful and ugly was "more artistic". We don't have to avoid hard themes and make it taboo out of them, but we do need a counterbalance. We also need responsibility and honesty when choosing our themes and our artistic or literary approach. And we do need to stop hating things all the time. We need a mature creative world.

It is easier and faster to break than it is to build. It's easier to hurt than to heal. Look around. We have almost nothing left to "break" at this point. I'm in search of beauty again. Out with lanterns. The beauty in you and in me. Not for the glorification of the artist, or of the art itself, but for the Love that keeps me going, that designed me for a particular job, and that I plan to execute in love.

"Let all you do be done in love", it's written. But because I know Love is not only feeling, even when I don't feel like doing it, I will go back into Love, into humility, and do it to the best of my strength. I will do it so that when I have the opportunity to serve someone by it, they feel love. We put our soul into it, and it's not an aesthetic, not a fancy ethereal trend; there is no need for applause. I will do it like that because in that doing is the reward itself, not in the praise or the prize.

All is vanity. Love is the reward.

[chirp-a-chirp]

Ikemen Prince: Breaking Point

Description: A chance encounter with a young boy forces Leon to confront his past. Spoilers from Leon’s route. Quotes from Leon’s route are in bold text.  

Ikemen Prince: Leon

Other Characters: Nokto; Yves; Sariel; Jin (briefly)

Word Count: ~2,700. 

Tags: Angst and comfort; mentions of slavery, abuse, trauma, and parental loss

*Lion picture generated using Art AI App Gencraft

…

“He’s replaceable.” 

The voice was dismissive, petulant. The Duke gestured irritably at a young boy hastily picking up a pile of silverware that had scattered across the floor. The boy was no older than six, the youngest servant at the Duke’s gala. The boy’s amber eyes flickered at the Duke’s outstretched hand; he flinched reflexively, his body prepared for the blow that was sure to follow. 

Leon’s eyes opened in shock. The servant boy was a virtual replica of him as a child, down to the sunken hallows beneath his eyes and the mop of dark hair that refused to be tamed. Leon winced internally as he saw what appeared to be bruises on the boy’s wrists beneath his jacket. But it was more than that—though the boy’s body’s flinched as an automatic response, his arms hung listlessly at his sides. The boy’s eyes were dull and flat. Leon knew what that feeling of resignation was like, perhaps more than anyone. 

Instinctively, Leon stepped in front of the boy. “Every life has meaning, Your Grace.” A growl emanated from Leon even as he plastered a smile on his face. “He’s not replaceable.”

“And he has a name. Charles.” Emma crouched beside the boy, helping him pick up forks and spoons. Her eyes flared at the Duke. The Duke laughed dismissively. “He’s here upon my charity. The urchin’s mother was one of my maids; she died several months ago. He has a roof over his head as long as his does his job competently. He has failed to do that so—“

“So let us remedy that for you.” Leon’s eyes narrowed. “We will take Charles back to the Castle.” Leon gestured gently for the boy to get up. With some quiet encouragement from Emma, Charles scampered behind Leon, clinging to his cloak like a lifeline. Leon grab Charles’ hand and began to turn around. The Duke’s voice brought Leon back to the conversation.

“I believe you’ve forgotten something.” The Duke held out a hand. “Compensation for the clothing the boy wears. A coin would do.” The Duke’s attempt at a power play was painfully transparent. Leon barely heard the Duke’s sneer—it faded into a blur as Leon was pulled back into his childhood past. The sound of feet trudging through mud, whips lashing and breaking against his skin when work was not done fast enough, his life bought with a single coin. Jin, who had seen the verbal exchange between Leon and the Duke, stepped in. “Of course, Your Grace.” Jin dropped a small bag of coins in the Duke’s hand before Leon could respond. The Duke had powerful friends and trade connections. The princes could not afford to make him an enemy. Jin guided the Duke away, handing him a glass of wine. As Jin walked past Emma, he mouthed to her, “Go with Leon. Please.” 

Emma quickly picked up the remaining pieces of silverware, placing them on a nearby table. Leon and Charles had already left. As she began to leave the gala, Emma felt a tug on her elbow as an arm encircled her waist. 

“That was quite the performance just now.” Nokto’s breath tickled against Emma’s neck. His red eyes sparkled in mischief. 

“You could have intervened any time,” Emma glared. Nokto shrugged, “Jin beat me to it. But, on to more important matters.” Nokto lifted his eyebrows and whispered in Emma’s ear. To anyone watching, it would look like no more than a man flirting with a pretty girl. “Do you recall the conversation you and I had while you were Belle? About Leon’s kindness?” Emma’s cheeks flushed. Nokto chuckled, “Play along, my dear. You’re doing well.” 

Emma huffed and stepped back a pace. “Yes,” she hissed. “But this kindness is not cruel. Kind people want to help everyone. Leon wants to protect Charles, like he does with all the people in Rhodolite.” 

“But at what cost?” Nokto studied Emma, a smirk on his face. “Leon can’t hide a thing, especially now that’s he’s with you,” Nokto murmured. “His eyes give him away. Leon will break tonight. Too many memories brought back to the surface.” Nokto stroked his chin and added; “his kindness is the ultimate cruelty to himself. When you care for everyone, there’s nothing left for yourself.” Nokto adjusted his white and gold jacket and sauntered towards Jin and the Duke, leaving Emma with her thoughts. 

Damn Nokto’s perceptiveness. He could read people as easily as she read books. Leon had always been cheerful with everyone, friendly, charming. He was the smiling stranger with a ready laugh, the charismatic but distant hero, the man surrounded by others but somehow just out of reach. It was a kindness removed from emotional intensity; to be future king, it had to be so. Leon’s love for Emma had changed that perspective; he had become more approachable, more honest with his feelings, his heart lighter. But it left him vulnerable—to love was to risk suffering, and he loved Emma, Rhodolite, and its citizens more than anything. When they suffered, Leon suffered. And now, he did not have the emotional distance to preserve himself.    

Emma sprinted out of the Duke’s villa. She found Charles and Leon on the side of a road, Charles staring at the prince in disbelief. Emma hid behind the villa’s gate, watching the scene before her. Charles lifted his hands towards the sky, gesturing at the fourth prince. It was as if the boy was pleading to Leon, daring to ask more of him. “You’re so big.” 

Oh no. 

For an instant, Leon’s eyes widened and trembled. Dark memories of him reaching out towards the sky as a slave boy, bleakness and resignation his only companions, enveloped him. Leon blinked a few times, willing himself back to the present. “You’ll be big like me one day.” Leon ruffled Charles’ hair. “And you’re not alone. Not anymore.” The prince picked the boy up and perched him on his shoulders. “Race you to the Castle Charles!” Leon ran at breakneck speed, a determined smile on his face. Normally, Leon’s smile shown brighter than the sun, providing warmth and strength on even the chillest of days. But now, Emma saw this smile for what it was—a shield protecting fragile feelings.  

Emma walked as quickly as the cobblestone road would allow—she wondered if the heroines in her stories were capable of sprinting in heels. Thankfully, the Duke’s residence was a manageable distance to the Castle by foot—the carriage that brought Emma to the gala would not be back for several hours. After nearly getting lost, she arrived at the Castle, Sariel greeting her inside. 

“Prince Leon and the boy are with the palace mutt in the kitchen.” Sariel looked unsurprised to see Emma back so early. He peered at Emma’s feet—she had unceremoniously kicked her heels off, rubbing blistered toes. Sariel lifted the corner of his lips in amusement. “Given your and Prince Leon’s escapades in town, I would have thought you’d wear more practical shoes.” His eyes shown wickedly. “Perhaps there is a sadistic side to you after all, Emma.”    

Emma inclined her head and left, not wanting to acknowledge Sariel’s comment. As she approached the kitchen, Emma popped her head through a crack in the door. Emma was startled to see only Yves, slicing apples to place in a nearby pie-tin.

“Yves?”

Yves howled in surprise, nicking himself with the knife. He jumped back so quickly he nearly hit his head on a series of pots and pans hanging nearby. 

“GAH! WHAT THE—!” 

“Yves! I didn’t mean to startle you!” 

“I wasn’t startled!” Emma and Yves barreled over one another with repeated apologies and Yves’ insistence on not being agitated. Yves calmed down enough to allow Emma to wrap a strip of cloth on his bleeding finger. Emma took a peek at the pie-tin. Next to it was a picture of several stick figures gathered around a pie.

“Charles likes apple pies. His mother used to make them.” Yves looked sadly at the photo. The black marks on top of two of the stick figures identified them as Leon and Charles—the figures held hands and were smiling. The other two figures—Yves and Rio—had yellow marks on their heads and held apples. Yves’ eyes flickered back to Emma’s, his haughty glare returning. “I’m sure his mother was a good baker—but my pie will surely be better.”

“Where’s—“

“Charles is with Rio. Rio is setting up an extra bed in his room so Charles doesn’t sleep alone. Leon said he had something he needed to take care of.” Yves’ voice trailed at the mention of Leon. “Leon was smiling but…he wasn’t here with us somehow. It was like he was away, deep in his own loneliness.” 

Yves and many others had worked together seamlessly to save a little boy tonight—and watch over Leon. It was the nobler side to the princes’ beastly natures. Emma placed a hand on top of Yves’ shoulder. “Yves, don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s OK.” As Emma walked away she heard Yves call back. “Emma?”

“Yes?”

“I…I have a soldier in my ranks with a brother who has been wanting to adopt. Charles would be very happy with him and his wife. N-not that I care, of course!”

“Of course not, Yves.” Emma shook her head and closed the door.           

Leon was not in any of his usual haunts within the Castle—the rose garden, training grounds, the Domestic faction’s room. Now more worried, she ran to his room and jiggled the door knob. Locked. A clear signal he wanted to be alone. No. He’s so used to helping others he doesn’t know how to ask for help. Emma reached inside her dress pocket for a bobby-pin to pick the lock. She knew Clavis’ breakfast parties would pay off. After a few moments, Emma heard a click and opened the door. 

The windows to Leon’s room were cracked open, gossamer curtains fluttering in the breeze. Leon was laying in bed, on top of the covers, his back facing Emma. His body was curled inward, one hand clinched to his chest, the other reaching out towards the window. His breath was loud and ragged, his shoulders shaking. 

My God, thought Emma. He’s crying.   

Her eyes shimmered with tears—he looked more alone in this moment than any other she could recall. He was not standing regally, staring at the sky, like she had found him numerous times before, lost in thought. These thoughts devoured him, debilitated him, the enormity of them so strong he could not stand, or even sit. He was broken and had locked himself in his room until he could fix himself again. 

Emma closed the door quietly. She glided to the bed, laying behind him. Emma nuzzled her head against the back of Leon’s shoulders, hiding the wave of emotions hitting her at once. Leon gasped, tensing. 

“Don’t be alone like this. Please…let me stay with you.” Emma hoped she wasn’t pushing him too hard. After a moment, she heard a reply. 

“You’ll stay with me…like this?”

With one hand, Emma grazed the back of Leon’s head, scratching lightly. She draped an arm around Leon’s torso, finding his clinched hand, laying her fingers on top of his. Slowly, Leon’s body unfurled at Emma’s touch. His sighs became a series of baritone purrs, a rhythmic buzz releasing stress and nerves. 

Emma sensed a need for Leon to collect himself. She pressed her forehead against the back of his neck and hugged him from behind. The duo breathed in sync with one another, finding mutual peace in the stillness of the room. Eventually, Leon turned to face Emma, burying his head in the crook of her neck. 

“You always find me. The real me.” 

Emma sighed, threading her fingers in Leon’s hair. “Seeing Charles like that must have triggered memories for you.” A silence hung in the room as Emma continued to stroke the back of Leon’s head. Finally, Leon murmured, “Yeah, it did. But…I’m fine now. How was the rest of the gala?”

It was a classic Leon move—pivoting the conversation from himself. Emma moved slightly away; Leon leaned towards Emma, missing her warmth. Emma put a hand up between them. 

“Don’t try to distract me, love.” Emma stared intently at Leon, taking his wandering hand away from her waist. “You’re not fine. You pretend you are, but those days still affect you. How could they not?” Emma brushed away locks of unruly hair covering Leon’s eyes. “You always wake up before dawn. An instinct learned through hard labor I suppose.” Emma stopped briefly as Leon’s eyes widened. “Every time Silvo comes to the palace, you flinch at the sound of his jangling jewelry. Does the sound remind you of the chains you wore?” She heard Leon catch his breath, his body still with shock. “Whenever Sariel talks with a group of children, you always stand in front of him. Is it so they won’t be scared by seeing the whip he carries?” 

“I...I do that?” Leon’s voice shook slightly. Emma closed the distance between them, caressing a cheek with the pad of her thumb. “You do. You’re also the only prince that rides a horse without a riding crop.” 

“Physical pain doesn’t motivate. It teaches fear, nothing more.” Leon’s voice was harsh. Emma unconsciously rubbed Leon’s ribs, which bore subtle signs of unhealed whip marks. “Charles knows that truth.” 

“And now Charles is away from that fear.” Emma pulled Leon close, arms encircling him.   

“Charles was all but a slave. Here, in Rhodolite.” Leon’s voice shook with frustration. “For every boy like Charles, there are countless others. I can’t…I can’t protect them all.”

“It’s not just you protecting people. You have a pack of brothers and friends wanting to help. Men who did help tonight—Charles was saved by you, but he has a warm bed tonight thanks to Rio, a full belly and a potential family thanks to Yves, and he is no longer under the thumb of that Duke thanks to Jin and Nokto.” Emma cradled Leon’s face between her hands. “And you may not want to hear this, but I bet Chevalier has a plan for stopping elites like the Duke from taking advantage of people like Charles.” Wanting to lighten the mood, Emma added. “If not, Clavis’ traps will finally be put to good use for those elites.”

Leon’s booming laugh echoed in Emma’s ears. “Yves will appreciate that.” 

How Emma missed Leon’s laughter. But, Emma felt the need to press her point. “Yves would also appreciate you talking to him more. Jin too. It’s not good to keep things bottled up inside.” Emma’s voice was gentle. “And I’ll always be here if you want to talk.”

Leon absently rubbed Emma’s lower arm. After a while, he quietly uttered. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry—“

“I should have gotten you that bracelet.” Leon’s fingers caressed the inside of Emma’s wrist.

“What are you talking about?” 

“The merchant had a matching bracelet for your ring.” Leon gestured to the silver ring on Emma’s hand. “It had a silver plate you could engrave an inscription onto. The plate was held by a chain. I…couldn’t bear the look of it.” Leon held Emma’s hand tightly. “It reminded me of the insignia bands slaves wore on their wrists.”

Emma gasped. This was the first time since her time as Belle Leon volunteered information about his childhood. “I told you I never knew my actual name before assuming Prince Leon’s identity. I had a number though. Fourteen. Marked on that insignia on my wrist.” 

“Leon…” Emma held Leon tightly, the warmth of her touch telling him she was there for him. And with that, Leon found himself speaking. A trickle of words at first, then a flood. Memory after memory of his early childhood tumbled out, like the rocks he rolled out of the quarries. Leon spoke until exhaustion overtook him and Emma both. 

��

Emma woke the next day to the sounds of birds chirping. Light poured through the windows, the sun well above the horizon. Emma turned to see Leon asleep, an arm wrapped tightly around her. 

Emma smiled. For the first time, Leon slept past dawn. The healing had begun.  

[elbiotipo]

How to distinguish my space settings from each other: FTL (faster-than-light travel para los que no dominan la jerga) and the Argentine Character (they all have at least one)

Campoestela:

FTL: Travelling is done in relatively short (12-72 hs.) flights through a cloudly dimension called the Aether. The feeling is much like pre-jet era flights, with frequent stops for fuelling (they need a fuel called "nafta" which is refined in special worlds). Different currents carry you faster, making for trade routes stretching across the galaxy. Ships range from space-shuttle sized to slow cargo mega-carriers.

Argentine Character: Beto, a guy from Space Chaco (ironically, my most porteño character) who is a space trucker unionized on the CGT (Confederación Galáctica del Trabajo) and loves listening to history podcasts

Space Battleship Aurora:

FTL: Light speed? What's that? This is a fantasy setting. Space Byzantium (literal Byzantium) used galleys equipped with magical sails to transverse the oceans between the crystal spheres and conquer its empire. Sure, now they resemble WWI battleships, but the principle is the same, this is a star ocean.

Argentine Character: Tomás, a huge guy from Bonaeropolis, Terra who is the ship's cargo master and a communist revolutionary who adopts a couple of noble kids who aren't sure of this whole thing yet

METAL lml

FTL: jump devices are only found in old ships or automatized factories from the golden Age of Aquarius where everybody disco-danced. They are fuelled by the very energy of the universe that fuels everything else, METAL, the lml (Liquid Matter-Light), the song of the universe itself. Ships simply "jump" to their destination instantly, as long as you know the song.

Argentine character: Two, actually. One is a teen girl isekai'd from 2012 who uses the power of METAL to destroy her enemies, the other is a very chill gaucho from Space Corrientes who herded asteroids and now flies a Hind-like ship kicking ass.

The Greatest Scam:

FTL: This is a hard sci-fi setting. The only FTL is wormholes, which act with within laws of physics as we know them. The AIs who mine bitcoin in the Solar matrioshka brain use them to create incomprehensible processing systems. AIs friendly to humanity and the Socialist Interstellar maintain wormhole gates that allow limited interstellar communication and travel ('human' space is about 50 light years across). These gates are expensive pieces of infrastructure, much like space railroads.

Argentine Characters: None just yet, but many wandering habitats are of Argentine descent, flying under the flag of the URSAL.

Concordia (Star Trek Rebuild)

FTL: Depending on the date, if set in current times none at all (humanity is just expanding through the solar system, think For All Mankind), but if there is a FTL, it's an Alcubierre-like "warp drive", which functions much like in Star Trek, the main limitation is the energy required to keep the "warp bubble" stable. Interstellar travel takes days to weeks, humanity has explored just a corner of the galaxy and mostly thanks to friendly alien civilizations.

Argentine Character: A recently promoted captain born in Curuzú Cuatiá, Corrientes, who is trying to keep the balance between his Usamerican first officer and his Soviet chief engineer.

Biopunk South America:

FTL: There is plenty of space activity, but no FTL and there probably not ever be because of physics (if there ever is, it will be like in The Greatest Scam). As of 2143, there are only unmanned interstellar probes to Alpha Centauri and others which will take decades to reach destination, interstellar exploration is a long-term project.

Argentine Character: Except for Marina, all of them. Even the dolphin. Especially the dolphin.

[miloscat]

[Review] Sonic Battle (GBA)

Easily the best Sonic-themed arena fighter/RPG on the GBA.

As one of the more notable and novel spinoffs in the Sonic series I was interested to play Battle. 1996's Sonic the Fighters was a Virtua Fighter-style traditional 3D fighting game [which I bounced off hard], whereas in 2003 Sonic Team looked to Capcom's Power Stone for a more free-roaming arena fighter with a simple control scheme. The main surprise for me with this one though was its heavy story focus.

Sonic is chilling out in Emerald City, you know that place that he's always lived in with all his friends, that city that has existed before and will continue to exist. Anyway he meets some robot who he names Emerl, a learning machine that takes on the traits of others. Emerl bounces between his friends, getting into trouble with Eggman and growing all the way. Yada yada yada, ancient superweapon, the destruction of the planet, etc etc. It's a plot rich with incident, full of roadblocks and cheap excuses for fights, where the strength is in the little character moments along the way.

Some characters come off better than others. Emerl has a fun dynamic with Knuckles while he still has a childlike mindset, and there are nice bits with Cream and Rouge. Shadow really shines as Emerl's final mentor and arguably the heart of the whole story despite his scarce screentime, managing to not come off as an utterly boring character to me for the first time ever (now granted I haven't played his game or SA2). Amy on the other hand is at the peak of her "weirdo stalker" characterisation that it seems she was stuck in for, what, at least 15 years? The way she's written is godawful, a real embarrassment. So it's highs and lows, aka your typical Sonic product.

Another high is the art design. The Sonic Advance-style sprites have a lot of personality and animation to them, which helps convey the fight moves. The map is lovely isometric pixel art, while battles play out in little arenas modelled in full 3D with some nice varied textures. Sure the layouts are very simple, with just two levels of elevation and mostly cube-shaped platforms around but they manage some variety within that. You'll see the character portraits a lot during dialogue, so luckily they're fantastic, with a distinctive style that pops despite some slight GBA crunchiness.

The events play out over the course of eight character-centric plotlines that follow each other chronologically. There's a fair bit of repetition and what often feels like padding to stretch this into an 8-hour game over the course of all the campaigns. Don't expect any to tell a complete story, but each shapes Emerl in some way. This plays into the game design too, as Emerl is a customisable character. You'll play as him a bit less than half the time, so it's important to update his moveset with new actions won from your battles. Unfortunately Emerl's skill points increase slowly, and new moves are randomly dropped, to encourage link cable trading and grinding on optional battles or story replays. With the uneven difficulty this can create some unpleasant scenarios, but I got by using emulator features and some potent cheese strats.

So we come to the battle gameplay. I really like the platform fighter-esque simplicity of the control scheme, with complexity arising from the free movement in the arenas and strategising with your special moves. Aside from basic attacks, air attacks, and two directional strong attacks, which aren't hugely different between characters, you have your special moves on R. Each time you spawn in, you pick between projectile, power, and trap for your specials: one for grounded use, one for air use, and one that your character will automatically block against for the duration of that life. In this way you can choose your favourite variation, or react to an opponent's style or their guard choice.

It's an ingenious little system, but the battling is let down by ruthless AI and a dodgy camera. Like in a belt-scrolling beat-em-up, depth perception can be an issue as you often whiff attacks if you're not lined up just right, and opponents can escape offscreen. Try to engage them with normal attacks and you (or at least I) will be relentlessly countered and full-comboed to oblivion. Luckily, there are many ways to manipulate the engine and your foes, and finding the right one becomes a new kind of gameplay, if not the intended way to play.

For example, Rouge can maintain repeated airdrop combos, and with the right timing and spacing other characters can infinitely knock an opponent into a wall with a strong attack, then hit them again on the rebound. Emerl's basic ground shot can easily be repeated on any enemy even if they are blocking shots for cheap kills. The L button briefly blocks, then turns into a heal that also charges a special meter which when full turns specials into one-hit KO moves; any character with a fast charge (Knuckles, Cream, Emerl when properly equipped) can frequently get distance, charge up an OHKO, nail one or even two approaching enemies, rinse and repeat. Even spamming projectiles and traps can get you through in the right circumstances.

And that's why I love this system. It's broken, but you can work the jank in your favour and find many ways to exploit the game. It feels good! At first I was very frustrated but with a few pointers from friends and some goblin ingenuity I relished mastering this new style of play. The enemy's not fighting fair so why should I? Mwa ha ha!

It's worth noting that there's a few extra characters that are fought in the story that you can unlock for "free battle" or multiplayer, like a Gamma that isn't actually Gamma for lore reasons, or the slow but powerful Chaos. There's also a handful of minigames, but sadly most are locked to link cable play only. They look kinda cool but I'll never know. All I got was a lazy Knuckles-themed reskin of Windows 95 classic Minesweeper. Wahey.

Sonic Battle fits right in with some other Sonic games I've played recently: a heady mix of coolness, stupidity, great artistic choices, utter jank, some truly wrongheaded decisions, and gameplay that's a mess. In this case an endearing mess, so it comes out as a win. It's an easy must-play for Sonic fans. Especially for the story that feeds into Advance 3, Shadow the Hedgehog, and apparently Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood. And speaking of, I wonder what's next on my checklist...?

[wigilham]

What is Telegram Signal Copier AI?

The Telegram Signal Copier AI is a specialized tool designed to automate the copying of trading signals from Telegram channels directly into MetaTrader (MT4 or MT5) platforms. It uses artificial intelligence to streamline the signal copying process, allowing users to receive trading signals on Telegram and execute them automatically on their trading accounts without manual intervention.

Key features often include:

Automated Trading: The tool extracts trade information like entry points, stop loss, and take profit levels from Telegram messages and places them into your trading platform.

Speed and Accuracy: The AI ensures signals are processed and executed in real-time, minimizing the delay between receiving a signal and opening a trade.

Customization: Traders can set parameters like lot size, risk management, and trade filters to fit their trading strategy.

Multiple Channels: Users can copy signals from several Telegram channels simultaneously.

24/7 Monitoring: The copier monitors Telegram channels around the clock to ensure no trading signals are missed.

In short, Telegram Signal Copier AI automates and simplifies the process of following trading signals, providing convenience and efficiency for Forex traders.

[dxasomnias]

⌞ byf ⌝

↳ before you follow! Hi! I'm juno. Welcome! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა There is music on my blog if you open it on the website! if it bothers you, please just press the pause button at the top of the website!

ABOUT ME! ｡𖦹°‧

╰› I'm very new to this version of tumblr, so please be patient with me! My name is Juno, i'm 21, and my pronouns are she/her. I write and draw, hopefully i'll have the motivation to keep this blog alive for a while~

If you want to message me, my messages are currently: Open! feel free to drop in and chat! (please keep in mind that i do have autism. Social interaction is hard for me, so please be patient!)

BASIC RULES! ｡𖦹°‧

╰› minors, DNI with my nsfw side blog. I understand that it's in my bio/linked, but that isn't an open invitation to interact if you're underage. I don't want minors interacting with my adult content. Thank you. (This also applies to blank blogs and blogs w/o their age in bio.) ╰› basic DNI criteria applies here, if you're a bigot don't interact! ദ്ദി๑>؂•̀๑) ╰› Messaging me is fine, so is sending asks, but any hateful asks or messages will go straight in the trash and it'll result in a block. If you disagree with me on something you can tell me about it in a respectful way. ╰› DO NOT REPOST/COPY ANY OF MY ORIGINAL CONTENT. Inspiration is fine, but if someone can't tell the difference between my work and your own then it's an issue. ╰› some posts may be on a queue, if you see me post but i haven't responded to your message or ask, please don't assume i'm ignoring you. I might just be busy! ╰› asking me ⌞what happened to (user)?⌝ will get you ignored. I either most likely don't know or i don't want to be involved with drama. If its important, i would have made a post.

WRITING RULES! ｡𖦹°‧

STATUS: COMMISSIONS (CLOSED) | ASKS (OPEN)

╰› I write for all characters on this blog! i just don't do anything 18+ here. If you want 18+ content please go to my side blog! thank you. ╰› hyper specific asks will get you ignored. ex: "can you do malleus x fem reader with blonde hair, blue eyes, and (insert personality here)". Writing things like that isn't fun for me! Specific scenerios are fine, but if you just want me to write your oc i'll ignore you lol ╰› please tell me if you want a specific gender for your ask! if not, i'll automatically do GN!reader. ╰› I don't write anything but platonic asks for ortho and freshmen. I'm a fully grown woman, writing romance for 15-16 year olds makes me uncomfortable. ╰› If i don't respond to your ask right away, please don't get angry with me. This is for fun! sometimes it takes me a bit to write down a drabble. Be patient please!

ART RULES! ｡𖦹°‧ STATUS: COMMISSIONS (CLOSED) | ART TRADES (OPEN)

╰› DO NOT USE MY OCS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. Fan art is absolutely fine! i just don't feel comfortable with people using my oc in fics or their own oc's story or lore unless i know you personally. ╰› i don't do tutorials, i'm sorry. If you're curious, i have no problem linking resources i use, but i'm not confident enough in my skills to directly make tutorials. ╰› There's a difference between constructive and deconstructive criticism. I'm always open to constructive criticism, but being told "it sucks" isn't helpful, it's hurtful, and it will get you blocked. ╰› Like i said above, using my art as inspiration is fine. But please don't directly copy me, trace me, or use my art to train AI. ╰› im open for art trades! i love doing them! but please don't demand one from me, i'm a very slow artist auggh

｡𖦹°‧ masterlist linked here! | my 18+ sideblog linked here! ｡𖦹°‧ (˶ˆᗜˆ˵) thank you for reading!

[meret118]

A new initiative from The Biden-Harris administration aims to stomp out corporate shenanigans that it says “add unnecessary headaches and hassles to people’s days and degrade their quality of life.” They’re calling it the “Time Is Money” initiative, and it’s a suite of executive actions across numerous federal agencies aimed at eradicating time-sucking business practices.“

Companies often deliberately design their business processes to be time-consuming or otherwise burdensome for consumers, in order to deter them from getting a rebate or refund they are due or canceling a subscription or membership they no longer want — all with the goal of maximizing profits,” the White House argues in a press release about this initiative

. . .

Tanden says this initiative came out of the administration’s work last year to eliminate junk fees (Our daily podcast The Indicator covered this). These are extra fees that companies often tack onto a bill at the end of a transaction. It’s been a common practice when, for example, you buy tickets to a concert or book a hotel or rent a car. Companies advertise one price but then it turns out that’s actually not the real price at all

The Time Is Money initiative has numerous targets. The Federal Trade Commission, for example, is aiming to make a rule that “would require companies to make it as easy to cancel a subscription or service as it was to sign up for one.”“I had a newspaper subscription where it was literally three clicks to subscribe, and then to end my subscription, it was 45 minutes on the phone,” Tanden says. “There's really no reason that it should take so much longer to end a subscription than it is to start a subscription.”

The Department of Transportation has issued a new automatic cash refunds rule that “requires airlines to pay you back the airfare when your flight is canceled or significantly changed for any reason, and you are not offered, or choose not to accept, alternatives such as rebooking.”

The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau (CFPB) wants to make a rule “that would require companies under its jurisdiction to let customers talk to a human by pressing a single button,” as opposed to getting stuck on the phone in “doom loops,” where you have to keep pressing buttons and never get to talk to anyone. The administration also might crack down on the use of AI chatbots, which, they say, “frequently provide inaccurate information and give the run-around to customers seeking a real person.”

The Biden-Harris administration is also hoping to encourage health insurers to enable consumers to more easily submit claims online.

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

Any tips for total war? The timing fucks with me and I’m so bad

That’s a vague question. Uh. Hm.

Unless you’re on legendary difficulty, you can pause battles and give units directions, which they’ll follow when it unpauses. Do this as much as you need to to give yourself time to breathe and observe what’s happening (and take screenshots).

Put 1 growth building + 1 wall/defensive building in each minor settlement in a province. This will allow you to develop your provinces more smoothly and gives you breathing room from random attacks. If you want to make it really easy on your memory, relegate minor settlements to growth + income, and put all your production buildings in the main settlement of each province.

Put guns/cannons up on hills or in between your melee units (they can’t fire over stuff like archers) and then pull them back behind your melee guys when the enemy gets too close.

The AI will always try to flank dogs/cavalry/birds into your ranged units. Have spearmen/monsters/things with charge defence nearby to intercept this. Preferably to the sides of or behind your ranged units.

Do not. Pick a fight. With Grimgor. Very bad.

Ranged units are king. Siege artillery and archers (stuff with firing arcs) will absolutely fuck up anything if you keep them away from the enemy.

Ranged units have a little button under them that toggles “skirmish mode” on and off. If you put this on, they’ll automatically run away from melee fights and try to make distance. This is very funny with ranged cavalry and sling units, and sort of useless on everything else.

All units have a little button under them that toggles “guard mode” on and off. If it’s on, units will do their best to stay where they are. If it’s off, they’ll chase shit around more. To make the most effective use of this, install a mod called “Just Good Babysitter”. It makes units with guard mode off acquire targets for themselves more effectively and means you don’t have to keep checking to see if they’re just standing there.

Seriously. Do not. Antagonise. Grimgor.

Prioritise the blue (bottom) skill tree for your lord first. Movement, lightning strike fighting and recruitment bonuses will do more for you initially. Unless you’re playing as Vlad. In that case, pump him full of steroids and let him go off.

If you have settlements you don’t want, you can use the diplomacy function to trade them to adjacent factions for a lot of money/agreements/reputation.

GRIMGOR WILL EAT YOUR LORD. THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING.

[exitrowiron]

Investing 101

Part 4 of ?

What to Buy

I've been procrastinating this post because I have a broker who provides buying/selling recommendations to me as I'm not an expert. Having said that, I can provide some information.

The first decision to make is whether to buy stocks or bonds. I explained the difference between the two in previous posts but I should add a caveat. Normally bonds are considered a safe but lower return investment to balance your portfolio and reduce risk. The moves by the Fed to control inflation however have raised interest rates on bonds to levels not seen in >40 years. For the first time in a long time, very safe bonds (ex. US Treasuries) are yielding more than equities and you can lock in those rates for a long time. Normally I'd advise a young person to avoid any bonds, but this is a strange time and some bonds would be a good investment for almost anyone. As with stocks, you can buy individual bonds or a bond fund.

What is a fund? Let's imagine that you want to own a basket of tech stocks (or bank stocks or consumer goods stocks, etc.). You could research various companies and make your purchases or you could buy a mutual fund. Mutual funds are actively managed investment pools with specific investment philosophies (ex. focused on tech stocks) - you purchase shares in the fund and the fund manager uses your money (and the $$ of other fund investors) to buy/sell shares in accordance with the philosophy/purpose of the fund. Actively managed means that there is a management team doing investment research and then buying and selling shares. Of course the management team costs money and they deduct their fee from the earnings pool prior to distributing the fund's earnings back to the owner/investors of the fund. Fund managers argue that their active management improves your earnings while lowering your risk. Detractors argue that management fees are too expensive and over the long run, investors can do better on their own (more on that later). Management fees aren't regulated (that I'm aware of) so investors have to be cautious - some funds have very expensive management fees while others are more frugal. Morningstar is a great resource for researching investments of all types, including funds.

An alternative to a Mutual Fund is an Index or Exchange Traded Fund. These funds are designed to mirror the composition and performance of an entire stock exchange (ex. NASDAQ). So if the NASDAQ goes up 10pts today, the related Index or Exchange traded fund will also go up 10pts. This is a low cost way to invest in the performance of the overall market. Many advisors recommend these investments for superior long term growth. These funds aren't actively managed by a human, but their low cost makes them a winner.

Speaking of humans, AI managed funds are increasingly a hot topic. I may own some of these funds and not even know it, but I'm not seeking AI management. In fact, automated trading can be problematic and cause 'flash crashes' for the market when every AI algorithm tries to sell at the time.

Target Date funds are another kind of mutual fund which is increasingly popular in 401Ks and 529 college savings plans. A target date fund is designed to manage risk and volatility with a specific life goal in mind. For example, you might establish a goal retirement date of 2040 and buy a Target Date fund for that year. The 2040 fund will automatically invest in higher risk/higher return equities in the first 20 years and gradually shift more of the portfolio to lower risk investments (like bonds) as your target date approaches.

Money market funds are a very low risk way to earn better returns on your emergency fund cash than allowing it to wallow in a bank savings account. A money market is a kind of mutual fund, but it owns very safe investments - the odds are very small that you'd lose money and instead you'll have a very liquid, safe investment that you can use in case of emergency.

What about individual stocks? Some investors follow the simple strategy of buying the stocks of companies whose products they know and admire. Ex, "I like my iPhone so I'm going to buy Apple stock." In >30 years of investing I have never purchased an individual stock. My rationale is that there is an entire industry of very smart people who do nothing but research and invest. The odds that I can outsmart them and pick a company which everyone else has undervalued are small. If I've read about it in the Wall Street Journal, so has everyone else and the opportunity to buy something cheap is long gone. In my opinion, buying individual stocks is like going to Vegas - of course you will hear stories of big winners, but in general the house (full time investment professionals) always wins. For a non-professional like me, the odds of selecting individual stocks and assembling a winning portfolio over the long term aren't in my favor.

[juliaturtlelover]

Okay, it's time for something new: Ven-Ghan design under the armor + redesign. I made him look more... alien? and insect like. He is shiny now lol. I'm aware that Ven-Ghan can't take his armor off, this is just to show him of. If I need to tag this as nudity tell me, ok?😅

I also decided this is a perfect post to vent about some of my headcanons))

***

Takonions as species are not completely gone)). Some, even if a few percent of the planet, evacuated. Jim implies so i believe. But it doesn't matter to me if that is canon or not, just a speculation based on level of tech development of Takion. Mostly upper class survives, and some who manage to get to refuge ships in time. As expected, most of those are kids who will never see their parents again.

***

Why Jim didn't come with his sodality? Bc Steel. Bc he was afraid others wouldn't ask questions and just shoot them both.

***

Where would refugees go? Another unexplored concept: the Black Star. Runs by Council and was created long time ago, as Makino's wrath began. I like to hc that Black Star is union of intelligent species that manages resources between them, organizes trade, cleans space from garbage that is left after planet destructions and productions of Ultralinks, and, of course, takes care of refugees, finds them new homes and jobs.

Don't be fooled: this isn't kindness, this is profit seeking. If you aren't helpful to community, you are treated like shit. But no worries, there are enough places where spare hands (or other limbs) are needed.

***

This is canon that Makino is an Ultralink that puppets a host. I add: they need an intelligent host to distribute processes. Why? Makino is connected with Alphalink and is responsible for it's main function: the creation of new Ultralinks. The algorithm goes like:

>Absorption of the planet

>"Digestion", so responsible Ultralinks dismantle planets for resources. Garbage, i.e. what cannot be used is thrown into outer space.

>Creation of Ultralinks; and based on used resources each batch, even each ultralink in it, comes out different.

So, more absorbed planets - more warriors - more defeated planets - more absorbed planets. A cycle.

***

Steel isn't actually so different from other Ultralinks (considering most of them differ), just free out of programmed loyalty for Makino, not the first, not the last. But how he works is kinda different, isn't it? Bc the way he connects to Jim and Max - not just through armor. Not just through body. Through Turbo energy in their bodies. Special kind of bond that Ultralinks aren't programmed to. There is a difference between taking over a body and using it's energy if it has any emitting, and bonding to energy, that automatically means being connected to body. Such bond is dangerous to Ultralinks too, as accidents like with Turbo Star result in different kinds of catastrophes. Forever run on this energy, for example. And Steel is lucky is was Turbo energy (it has a different name among Takions) as it is powerful enough to fuel such complex being as Ultralink.

***

***

No. Absolute. Way. Max would ever want to have a child of his own. Give birth to kid with a strong possibility that one day they start emitting Turbo energy and explode? Lol No. Max has much more common sense than that. And too much trauma. And while Molly and Jim couldn't have known, what were they thinking is beyond me.

I also hc that Turbo Chamber could have worked if Max was chill and still. But he was in distress, which resulted in higher energy generation than Chamber can hold. But IF that worked? Max would have to sit in it often, maybe even couple of time a day in particularly bad days, draining himself completely, and N-Tek would have used that energy as they desire. Lovable.

***

Max will major in ai and robotics. Why?⬇️

***

Alphalink was destroyed near Earth. All Ultralinks who didn't die in explosion had evacuated, and most of them landed on Earth. Now N-Tek has a lot of work to do.

***

I don't think Steel and Max will be comfortable with just killing them all. The solution is hanging near Earth: Ven-Ghan, and his knowledge about reprogramming Ultralinks. Ven-Ghan ultralinks are empty tho. Literal functioning corpses. And Ven-Ghan isn't even professional in reprogramming Ultralinks, just knows the basics from the Black Star Council. But it's up to these three + Berto and N-Tek to learn how to give free will to Ultralinks, how to rehabilitate them.

***

If you want to better understand my vision of programmed loyalty/free will in Ultralinks, watch Detroit: Become Human. Just imagine deviance, aka free will, as MUCH harder and complicated process that cannot be achieved from outside source unless it's heavy reprogramming/reboot/rebuild. And while N-Tek works on solutions, which can take years and decades, all is left is to fight. And Ven-Ghan may or may not get two apprentices)))

English is nor my first, nor my second language pls excuse me if smth is wrong

[tieflingkisser]

How the Houthis mined commercial intelligence to sabotage global trade

“The Houthis have shown that with a computer and internet access, and maybe the help of a VPN, just how much data is available in the maritime space,” Corey Ranslem, chief executive of maritime risk advisory and security company Dryad Global, told Middle East Eye. The Houthis, once a mountain rebel group, whom one US lawmaker derided as “goat herders”, have catapulted to global prominence for their audacious maritime drone and missile attacks, which they say are on behalf of besieged Palestinians in Gaza. Their attacks have disrupted global trade rippling across continents, denting Egypt’s Suez Canal revenue and shuttering Tesla and Volvo factories in Europe. The US and UK have responded to the Houthi attacks with air strikes, but they have so far been an ineffective deterrent. The starting point for Houthi attacks, western defence officials and maritime intelligence experts tell MEE, is basic ship identification and navigation data that everyone from rookie social media snoops to sleuthing journalists and powerful navies use to track vessels. Vessels ping their location via satellite transponders, known as automatic identification systems, or AIS. With an AIS signal, a ship’s location and route can be picked up. Sites like Marine Traffic provide AIS data, but it can also be obtained with an antenna and home receiver, Ranslem says. Ships travelling through the Red Sea are communicating directly with the Houthis via AIS.They are using the system to ping that they are travelling with an all-Chinese or even Turkish crew to dissuade the Houthis from attacking them. Others are saying they have no contact with Israel, hoping to avoid being targeted.