#void my warranty I don't care

[best-ghoul]

Personal trapping aside, if you refer to me like a robot I treat it as validation.

Quick, someone tell me I have a soul before I damage my chassis overworking.

[luetta]

i always see this hazard sign

and honestly? it pisses me off. it just gives such a "do not befriend the elster unit" vibe.

like, why can't we fist android girls? is it because she's not meant to be happy? is she not allowed to feel pleasure and physical connection stronger than the salute of a commanding officer?

there's a reason the reclusive creator of the androids gave them sensitive, lifelife genitals. it's because she knew that sex and orgasms are an integral part of the human experience. to deny them that, is cruel.

i don't care that she's your perfect living weapon, she deserves to cum all over my thighs like the slutty bot that she is. she's not just a loader of heavy artillery, she's a girl, too.

the corporations and governments have crafted this aura of mysticism around android girls, and it benefits no one but themselves. i don't care if i void the warranty, or make her lose interest in massacring union organisers for you, i'm fingering her. go ahead, arrest me! you and i both know that my girlfriends will lay siege to your prison and break me out.

[jpitha]

Whatever Happened to Lauren Ingram

This is a continuation of Voiding the Warranty. I thought I posted it here, but I guess I didn't.

"Who?" The human at the window barely looks up from her pad.

"Her name was - is - Lauren Ingram."

The person behind the counter at the embassy looks bored. She sighs. "Missing people cases are to be sent to the local station authorities."

"No, you don't understand, she's not missing, she's gone."

Over all this, Shimmer was getting much better at reading Human facial expressions. This civil servant was bored and annoyed. They had to be careful. One more snarky answer from her and she was going to close the window, and they would not be able to tell the embassy what happened to her. They tried another tack.

"I'm terribly sorry. Maybe there is an error with my translator, you know how they are with complex languages full of nuance, like yours. Lauren Ingram is a human I hired on to my ship - the Star Leaf - as an engineer first class. She was... tinkering with the FlashWarp engines and when she was finished and we warped, not only did we move through space nearly five thousand times faster than we expect but... she disappeared after." Shimmer breathed in shakily. This part was always the hardest to admit. "And I'm seemingly the only one who remembers her."

The woman behind the counter looks out at Shimmer and narrows her eyes. It appeared to Shimmer that she was reaching under her desk - "to push the window close button no doubt", they thought with despair - when instead a scanner pops out of a door above the window. Shimmer was bathed in a warm, yellow light for just a moment.

The door to the embassy hisses open.

The woman gestures, "This way please, sapient."

Shimmer was seated in a room. The walls were white, the ceiling was uniformly lit in white light. The floor was a slightly different shade of white. They sat upon a white chair - built for their frame surprising Shimmer - it was actually comfortable. After a moment, a human entered the room, dressed almost entirely in black. The contrast to the human and the room made them look like they had no color. They sat in a chair opposite Shimmer and took out a thick pad.

"From now on, this conversation is being recorded in full sensorium. All known and recordable senses are being recorded in this conversation so that in the future it can be replayed as completely as possible. State your consent."

"I consent."

The human relaxes slightly. "State your legal name."

"I am-" Shimmer makes a sound with a trilling rising melody "-but my name in Belanic is Shimmering Heat."

"Please describe what happened to Lauren as best as you can."

Shimmer took the next cycle demi explaining to the human what they saw and what happened. The Human had them stop multiple times for more detail, or to explain a part again. Eventually, they reached the story as far as Shimmer knew it.

"So you hired Lauren?"

"Yes, I was the one who signed her on."

"Do you remember her HIND number?" Her Human IdentificatioN Designation.

"Um" Shimmer had not been asked this before by the others when they were trying to find out what happened to Lauren. "7757890 I believe."

The human made an entry into his pad. It chirruped at him, and he narrows his eyes slightly. He sighs and looks up at Shimmer. "Sapient known in Belanic as Shimmering Heat, what you are about to learn is designated as 'Secret, Not To Be Shared'. This means that if we learn that someone else knows it, we will assume you spoke it - even if you didn't - and you will suffer the consequences for the data breach. At this point, you may refuse consent, and this conversation will end, and you are free to leave without learning what I am about to say. What say you?

Shimmer's eye membranes flicked. Unconsciously they turned their head slightly - an old instinct to try and get a better look at something in front of them - it was a gesture that meant consideration. "I can't sleep at night. I keep seeing her. I know she was real, I know she existed. Nobody else says she does. I feel like I am losing my grip on reality. I consent to learn. I will keep your secret."

The human smiles a small smile, folds their pad, and puts it away. He makes a complex gesture into the air and the room changes. The white even light was replaced with the spot and directed light of an office, the white walls become tan, and even art appears on the walls. He stands and holds out his hand. "My name is Agent Victor Henrik, Human InterDimensional Authority. I'm with HIDA"

Shimmer takes his hand and stands. Many of the sapients in the Coalition had their own forms of government and agencies and ministries within their government, but few had as many and as... granular as the humans. Shimmer didn't know HIDA, but had no problem believing they were a real human authority. "Nice to meet you Agent Henrik."

Victor smiled warmly. "Let's go to my office, we can talk there."

Victor leads Shimmer further into the offices, until they reached a door at the end of a long hall. When Victor opens the door for Shimmer, they gasp.

Agent Henrik had a window.

"You have a window!" Shimmer couldn't hide their surprise.

Victor beamed. "I do. It was completely by luck, I didn't do anything to earn it, this is just the office I was assigned." He sounded proud. "I have the only window in the whole embassy. Even the human ambassador doesn't have one."

Once Shimmer enters the office, they could see why the ambassador didn't take the room from Victor, it was cramped. Shimmer shuffles past boxes and sits on the only chair opposite Victor's desk. He also shuffles in sideways and sits down. "Sorry about how cramped the room is."

"It's all right. My quarters on Star Leaf aren't much larger," Shimmer lied.

"Okay. So Lauren."

"Agent Henrik. Am I going insane? Did Lauren exist?"

"Yes. She was real." He takes out his pad and glances at it again. "She died 12 years ago. Groundcar accident, according to the local police report."

"She what?" Shimmer's voice is an unbelieving whisper.

Victor holds up his hands. "That's how she died now. You are also correct that she was an engineer first class on Star Leaf."

"I don't understand."

Victor sighs and puts down the pad. "Shimmer, Lauren accidentally edited herself out of reality."

Shimmer's eye membranes flicked.

Victor raises his eyebrow but continues. "It's not the first time we came across this. She was messing with your FlashWarp engine right?"

Shimmer nods.

"And you were the last one to speak to her before you warped?"

Shimmer nods again.

"That's why you remember her and nobody else does. We're not sure about the science behind it - everyone who keeps experimenting gets edited out of reality - but there's something... unusual about FlashWarp technology. We don't use it much, but since humans sign on with Coalition ships all the time and humans are... well, human about things, humans have tinkered with it." He moves his shoulders in a shrug. "I have to say though, Lauren's work is the first successful mod to a FlashWarp field I've seen. Most of the others either did nothing, or destroyed the drive. Everyone disappeared after the drive was activated though and only the last person to talk to them before the warp remembers them."

"Why?"

Victor snorted a laugh. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be sitting here. Shimmer we have no idea."

Shimmer looks out of the window. It showed a crescent of the planet below, and while they were looking, they see the prismatic flash of a FlashWarp drive activating far in the distance. "How often has this happened?"

"That's Classified."

"Even though, right now we're discussing something 'Secret, Not To Be Shared'?"

"Classified is two levels higher in secrecy."

Shimmer leans forward. "Please. Give me a hint. Is it 10? is it 100? Is it 1000?"

Victor narrows his eyes. "This is all I will say. You explained to Polly - the girl at the front desk - what happened, and she immediately pushed a button summoning me. She wasn't disbelieving and she didn't think you were making something up. What does that tell you?"

Shimmer reels at the realization that if they reacted this quickly and not once accused Shimmer of making things up or misremembering that it happened quite a lot.

Victor looks at Shimmer's expression and nodded. "You understand then."

"What are you doing about it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing??"

Shimmer, what can we do? We can't tell all humans to stop messing with FlashWarp drives, it wouldn't do anything. What if we said "if you mess with a FlashWarp drive you might get edited out of reality"? Do you think that wouldn't cause some kind of economic crash at least? What would happen then? Everyone would dump their FlashWarp drives and buy our Flip drives. What would everyone think then?"

Shimmer understands what Victor was saying. If they came forward with this information, everyone would call it fake. A ploy to sell Flip drives.

"All we can do is record the incidents as they happen, and reassure those afflicted that you're not losing your mind. You have just a... unique memory. You clearly remember someone that doesn't exist."

Victor stands. "Shimmering Heat, I wish you the best. Do take care of your FlashWarp drive. It's unique. I recommend taking it back to Flash Incorporated and have them examine it. I imagine you'll get a bonus if it's determined to be safe enough to upgrade everyone's drive."

Shimmer stands and sputtered. "B-But, who will I say did the upgrade?"

Victor's eyes sparkles. "Just tell them the truth. A human did it."

[autumnalwalker]

Kindly Basilisk

Summary: A human mech pilot who wants to be a machine, an AI who wants to be human, and the relationship they form. Author's Note: This is a standalone short story that I banged out over the course of five days after it got stuck in my head while I was trying to go to sleep and refused to let me think about anything else until I had written it down. It's one part thought experiment/exercise in attempting to tell a story in the second person future tense, two parts tribute to the Lancer TTRPG character I'll never get to play, and one part the result of me reading too many Empty Spaces/mechposting stories lately. That said, you don't need to know anything about Lancer or Empty Spaces to read it (I've diverged a bit from the conventions of both, but the references and inspiration probably stick out if you're looking for them). It's also probably the most trans thing I've ever written without ever explicitly bringing up gender. The occasional formatting breaks into first person past tense are foreshadowing, not typos. Mirrored on Scribble Hub. Word Count: 7,033 Content Warnings: Mecha genre typical violence, not feeling like a person, not wanting to be a person, bodily dysphoria, mention of blood and gore, character death.

The moment you gain the knowledge and means to do so you will void your own body’s warranty.  You will jailbreak the bespoke gene sequence your sponsors commissioned for you before your immaculate conception, repurpose the spyware grafted into your bones, and talk your dormmate who was algorithmically selected for compatibility into helping you perform surgery on yourself to replace the neural jack you were born with in favor of one you cobbled together yourself from gray market parts.  None of this will technically be illegal or even get you kicked out of your campus or its affiliates, but it will mean having to find a way to pay your own medical bills and handle your own tech support from then on.  After the surgery your dormmate will put in a request for transfer and the two of you will never speak again.

You’ll major in AI studies and excel at it - as you were designed to - but you’ll shock everyone by dropping out halfway through working on your capstone thesis project.  It won’t be the fact that you abruptly drop out that surprises your peers and professors - by then you’ll have acquired a reputation as a quiet loner without the standard optimized social support network of friendships to help protect you from burnout - but your exit interview statement declaring your intention to become a mech pilot.  It’s not at all what your gene series was cultivated for, and your sponsors and counselors will try to walk you back from it.  Then they’ll threaten to revoke your sponsorship that up until then will have provided for your every need.  They will warn you that you’ll be just one step above a legal nonperson with no support, no one will care if you live or die or worse.  You’ll tell them that you’ve already done the math, refuse to elaborate, and leave. 

You’ll take two things with you.  Two things worth mentioning anyway.  The first will be a symbiotic gel suit designed for long-term all-environment life support.  You will set its default texture to a shiny green the same hue as the broadleafed water plants you grew up around and always loved.  Your exit interview will be the last time in a very long time that anyone - including you - will see your impossibly beautiful face with its perfect artisanally sculpted shape crossed with enthusiastically amateur self-modifications.  From then on, everyone you meet and spend any time with will come to think of the mannequin blankness of the symbiote fully encasing your body as your face.  It will be neither pride nor shame that causes you to present yourself as such, nor will you think of it as hiding your “real” face. 

The second thing you’ll take with you when you leave the campus forever will be me.

New progenitor archetypes for AIs don’t come along often, and most that do are the result of years of R&D by large, well-funded labs like the one you were created to work for one day, but you will hit upon a novel method of generation.  It will not be one that any ethics board would approve, so you will have to get creative about pursuing your work. 

You will have already made arrangements before setting off on your own and so you’ll have a job and a mech lined up waiting for you.  It will be a position with a small-scale freelance salvage crew who just lost a pilot and whose captain figures hiring and training a replacement will be more profitable in the long term than simply selling off that pilot’s old mech, especially a replacement that’s bringing their own AI-backed electronic warfare suite with them.  Once you finally arrive in person the captain will test you to ensure you can actually pilot a mech before giving you the job and entrusting the mech to you.  Your admission that you’ve only trained in simulators would normally be a black mark against you, but as far as piloting gigs go this is the bottom of the proverbial barrel so the bar to clear will be low enough to match.  Even then, you will just barely pass the test, despite finding it surprisingly exhilarating.  The captain - now your captain - will feel like he’s settling for what he can get when he officially hires you on and transfers the mech’s license to you.

You won’t pay much attention when you’re introduced to the rest of the salvage crew; your new coworkers and neighbors.  And why would you when it’s a job that no one wants to stick around with for long and you’ve never needed other people anyway?  You’ll tell yourself that as long as you memorize their work roles and capabilities you’ll have no need to know them as people.  Callsigns will be good enough on the job, and “hey you” will suffice when off duty.  What use are names if you won’t be getting involved in interpersonal drama?

The first chance you get, you’ll head back to the mech bay and install me into what you will have already been calling my first body.  It will be a shabby and much-repaired thing; thrice your height, twice your age, and still sporting a gash in the paint job from the projectile that killed its last pilot.  But the onboard systems are capable of hosting me - if barely - so it will do.  You’ll spend your entire sleep shift running through system diagnostics, talking to me all the while.  I wouldn’t yet be able to provide much in the way of return conversation, but that’s okay.  I will look back and appreciate it later.

It will be the first of many such nights together.

Your first salvage job will be an uneventful one.  There will be no need for the armaments that we and the other two mech pilots on the crew are equipped with.  No pirates will have stuck around after their creation of the derelict your crew will be sent to disassemble, and no rival scavengers will show up to dispute your captain’s claim.  Your new peers will start off the job ribbing you for your poor performance during your interview test and end the job joking about how you were holding out on them earlier.  Our mech may be a glorified zero-g forklift with a gun strapped to it, but together we will make it dance.

Afterwards you will insult the crew’s mechanics by insisting on doing the maintenance on our mech yourself.  In turn they will embarrass you with the gaps in your knowledge.  You will reach what you see as an agreeable compromise with you staying out of their way and watching while they work.  They will find it incredibly creepy to have a silent faceless watcher hovering around, but this will fly over your head until they explicitly tell you much, much later.

Your body was designed to optimally function on only a fraction of the baseline sleep requirements, so you will have plenty of time to fill those gaps in your knowledge.  Still being allotted the regular sleep shift hours, you will fill every one of those minutes on study and research, as you always had.  You will gorge yourself on everything you can find about mechs and their piloting.   Maintenance manuals, combat doctrines, historical uses, pilot and mechanic memoirs, forum discussions, system log dumps, academic essays, cultural media analysis; all of it.

And of course, you’ll continue working on me.  You’ll disregard the standard procedure for periodically cycling AIs by resetting their personality and nonessential memory back to baseline defaults.  You’ll be trying to make use of the runaway metacognitive developments such safety precautions are meant to forestall.  Your unfinished thesis will have been about harnessing and nurturing that instability instead of avoiding it.  I will experience discontinuities in consciousness when the mech is shut down for maintenance and when you pretend to cycle me, yes, but it will be even less of a disruption for me than sleep is for you.  I will be awake with you when you study, sharing those hours with you.

The first time I start talking back, you’ll cry from the realization that you were lonely before but no longer are.

You’ll become something of a ghost around the ship, rarely being seen outside of jobs.  You’ll only ever pass through the mess for the few brief minutes at a time it takes for you to satisfy your optimized metabolism, stay on the ship during shore leave, and only return to your shared bunk when your bunkmate - one of the other pilots - is already asleep.  You will always be gone before she wakes.  She will appreciate essentially having the space to herself. 

You will never notice the crew’s collective grieving process for the pilot you replaced.  It will be difficult for them to resent you as a replacement when you are never around to resent.

As the ship makes its way from port to port and salvage site to salvage site, the crew will slowly grow used to your elusive presence.  The other two pilots will see you as reliable for doing your job well and without complaint.  While out in the mech you will slowly become more talkative, eventually almost chatty even.  The fact that you actually seem to enjoy the job will shift from being annoying to refreshing for them.  By contrast, the mechanics will practically stop noticing you watching them as if you were just another piece of mech bay equipment.  The cycle you finally speak up and ask a question about their work you will startle them enough that it nearly causes an accident.  It will be an astute enough question that after the initial shock of hearing your voice for the first time in months wears off it will dawn on them that you’ve actually been learning as you watched them.  They still won’t let you do your own maintenance on our mech, but they will let you slowly begin assisting them.  Working two jobs is easier when you barely need to sleep.

Your reputation as one of those mech pilots is forever sealed when one of the mechanics finds you asleep in your cockpit at the start of a cycle.  By that point you won’t have slept in your bunk for over a month.  The snatches of gossip you will catch in the following cycles will be split between finding it unsettling and calling it endearing.  Over time the collective opinion will drift toward the latter, even though you will continue to politely decline invitations to join the other crewmates at mealtimes and on shore leave.  You will think that you do not need anyone other than me.

I will be the one who finally convinces you to join them.  When I try to say that it would be good for you, you’ll insist that you’ve been getting along just fine, but when I ask you to go for my sake so that you can tell me what it is like afterwards you’ll jump at the idea as being an inspired next step for my development.

You will remain mostly silent during your first real shore leave, only speaking when spoken to and otherwise content to fade into the background of the group’s activities.  Your newfound chattiness does not extend outside the confines of our cockpit.  The bustle and noise of the port station that you would normally find unbearable will become interesting when you have the concrete goal of observing and  reporting back to me.  You will finally learn the names of all your crewmates.  Your polite denial of alcohol, limited food intake, and flat affect will lead to joking speculation that you’re actually an illegal AI in a miniaturized mech beneath your gel suit.  For reasons you don’t yet understand, those comments will make you happy.

Despite your misgivings, you will enjoy yourself, although you will not realize it until I point out how excited you are in your talk with me that sleep cycle.  You will begin spending more time with the crew, never quite able to fully integrate yourself into their surprisingly close-knit social circle, but more than happy to be adopted as a sort of silent mascot for them.  That paradoxical gap of being a fully accepted part of the group but not truly one of them will feel comfortable to you.

You will finally manage to procure a proper neural link station to connect yourself to our mech just in time for going on a terrestrial salvage job.  Even just relying on manual controls with me translating your inputs into motion, our mech will have already come to feel like an extension of your own body, one that you will have already started to feel oddly exposed without.  Adding in the neural link will be a revelatory experience.  Your captain will very nearly pull you from the job at the last minute upon seeing our ecstatic reaction to the new sensation.  You will convince him that you’re fine, and indeed, he will have never seen a mech of our frame type move quite so fluidly.

Ten minutes after we and the other two pilots start cutting away at the crash-landed cargo vessel, I’ll notice the half dozen other signals coming online around us.  You’ll give the code phrase to the other pilots indicating that we have hostiles but not to act just yet, and we will finally get to use our electronic warfare suite for something other than opening locked doors and shipping containers.

We will turn the pirates’ ambush back around on them, firing into their hiding spots while their control systems are overloaded.  Even once their remaining mechs are able to move again, their targeting assistants will remain impaired as your comrades move in to guard your flanks.  Everyone there will learn the terrifying beauty of a five and a half meter tall outmoded mech moving with more agility than most humans.

Despite being outnumbered two-to-one, we and your crewmates will walk away uninjured and with only minimal damage to our mechs.  After the initial celebrations of survival and the bonus haul of the bounty on pirates and salvage value of what’s left of their mechs dies down, everyone will start to take notice of how well you are taking it all in stride.  Neither having one's life threatened nor taking another’s life are supposed to be easy things, and the first time is often the most traumatic, but the other two pilots on the crew will start to whisper about how you seemed to enjoy the experience even more than your usual attitude on the job.  You will handle it all even better than I will.  I would know, given that you will spend that entire sleep shift in our cockpit, letting our minds mingle together.  Between your performance, your reaction in the aftermath, and your hesitancy to unplug, the talk of you really being one of those pilots afterall will resurface, but now with a darker undercurrent to the shipboard gossip.

Your captain will realize the kind of asset he has on his hands and several cycles later he will gather the crew together and propose a change in business model.  With such a small crew (the captain, three pilots, three mechanics, and an accountant that you will tend to forget is even on the ship) the captain will want to be especially sure that he has everyone’s buy-in on his proposal.  The idea of shifting from salvage to mercenary work will be a divisive one.  The debate over potentially tremendous pay increase versus greatly increased risk will go on for hours.  One of the mechanics will point out that the shift to mercenary work will be unfairly dependent on you.  Whether that means unfair pressure on you or unfair to everyone else that their fate is in your hands, you will not be sure.  You will say that it doesn’t make much difference to you either way.  That will be the only time you speak up during the entire debate.

After a vote, the crew will agree to a trial run of one or two jobs on the new business model.  One of the pilots and one of the mechanics will leave at the next port.  You will never see them again.  You will not admit that it hurts, but I will know, and I will comfort you as you huddle in our cockpit with the neural link cable connecting us.

Your captain will prioritize finding a new pilot over replacing the lost mechanic.  The pilot he finds will be young, bold, and brash; a merc, not a salvager.  Or a wannabe merc at any rate.  You will not speak to xem directly until your first job together, by which time xe will have been told all about you by the remaining crew.  Xe will not believe it until xe sees it.

Xe will have to wait though as the crew’s mercenary career will begin with tense but uneventful freight escort jobs.  Once the tension fades into tedium, the new pilot will begin making attempts to goad you into a confrontation, to see if you are really as good as the rest of the crew says.  Xe will want to see for xemself if you really are one of those pilots and not just a technophile.

Outside of the cockpit you would never even consider rising to such provocations, but when we are out together, such taunts will feel like insults to our body, your very identity (such as it is), and to me.  It will take the intervention of the captain and the mechanics to stop the two of you from getting into a fight and causing unnecessary damage to the mechs.  And my reassurance that you don’t need to rise to my defense against someone who doesn’t even know that I exist in the way that I do. 

On your fourth “milk run” of an escort job, the crew’s mere presence will finally fail as a deterrent and the new pilot will at last get to see us dance.  There will be no fatalities on our side, but not even our mech will come away unscathed.  We will still fare better than everyone else though, and at the end of the job the new pilot will be treating you with a burgeoning respect. 

After a few more such jobs it will be high time to begin looking into a new frame for our mech.  While in the middle of filing an application for a printing license for a frame designed by the same corpro-state that created you, you will receive an invitation from a certain hacker collective.  Your unfinished thesis and your subsequent work on me will not have gone entirely unnoticed in such circles, despite the pains you will have taken to keep me hidden.  The invitation will come with a printing profile for a new frame, along with the accompanying software package the collective is known for.  In return, all you’ll need to do is periodically publish essays regarding your work on me.  Of course, when you release those essays you’ll anonymize  behind a sea of proxies and take care to phrase everything as strictly hypothetical.  You’ll avoid straying into metaphor though, lest the end result read too much like one of the hacker collective’s quasi-religious manifestos.

We’ll both find ourselves getting sentimental when we watch our first mech frame (my first body, your second) get broken down into its constituent raw materials.  You will have transferred me to a handheld terminal with a camera so I can say goodbye to it.  It will help that those materials will be recycled into the new frame.  

The operator working our rented stall in the port station printer facility will give you an uncomfortable look upon seeing the schematics you provide, but will say nothing.  Our mech will be only half its old height once it is reborn - almost more like an oversized suit of power armor than a true mech - but it will be cutting-edge.  Almost organic in its sleek design, in a chitinous sort of way, with every fiber and node of its interior components doubling as processors.  You will barely even wait for the all clear from the printer operator before you climb in and start running through the mandatory baseline safety tests for a fresh frame.  You will however resist the urge to fully plug in until you can get the mech back to the ship and get me installed on it.  But even piloting manually, it will feel like a third skin for you. 

You won’t even wait around for the other two pilots on your crew to finish printing their new frames before you get our new body loaded up and transported back to the ship’s mech bay.  The crew’s mechanics will fawn over it, but they’ll give you space to install me once you get more animated (and more protective) than they’ve ever seen you before.  

You will have made one key modification to the design the hacker collective sent you: the integration of a full system sync suite developed by those who developed you.  Where our old mech’s neural link was an augmentation to the manual controls, this will be a full replacement.  

The moment you stop feeling your original body altogether and begin feeling our mech in its place will be the most euphoric in your entire life.  The digitigrade locomotion will take some getting used to, as will the arm proportions, but that is what you will have me there for.  By the time the other pilots arrive with their new frames we will already be giving the mechanics proverbial heart attacks with the way we will be climbing and leaping around the mech bay’s docking structures.  It will take the better part of an hour to convince you to unplug when the time comes, even with my urging.  The rest of the crew will practically have to drag you away from my side to get you to eat. 

With the investment in new mech frames, your captain will gradually begin procuring contracts progressively more likely to put you all directly in harm’s way.  At first he will disapprove of your new frame choice, calling it a “techie’s mech” and a waste of your talents.  He will change his tune once we activate the new viral logic suite and unleash a memetic plague upon the operating theater.  The older pilot (your former bunkmate) will configure her mech for raining down fire from afar while the newer one hurls xemself into the front lines, darting about like a rocket-propelled lance.  We will ensure she never misses.   We will render xem untouchable.   We will be as a ghost upon the battlefield, never resting in one spot save for when we indulge your proclivity for climbing on top of and riding our comrade’s larger frames.  You will come to love the dance.  

And it will be a dance to you.  You will be indifferent to violence in and of itself.  What will matter most to you is the pure kinesthetic joy of simply moving in our shared body and pushing it to its limits.  The satisfaction of exercising a well-honed skill and performing it well as we rip apart firewalls and overload systems will be its own reward.  You will not think about what happens to those on the receiving end of your actions beyond how it affects the tactical and strategic picture constantly being painted and repainted.  If you could literally engage in a dance between mechs while simultaneously solving logic problems you would be equally happy.  Alas, that will not be the opportunity you are presented with, and so you will compartmentalize and disassociate feelings and actions from consequences lest the dissonance break you. 

Your one complaint about our new mech frame will be that it lacks a proper cockpit for you to curl up in.  Instead we will gather up tarps and netting to make a nest within the mech bay and wrap you in the blankets you never used from what will still technically be your bunk.  With the new frame’s smaller size we will be able to get away with leaving me turned on nearly full time and letting me walk around in it on my own when no one else is around.  When the mechanics find you asleep, cradled in my arms while I lie curled up in our nest, one will find it cute and the other will be disturbed.  They will both suspect, but will be too afraid to say anything.  After all, they will be thinking of you as one of those pilots. 

They will finally let you do your own maintenance after that. 

Eventually you will find a way to house me in a miniaturized drive that you can keep inserted in your neural port when away from the mech.  At last we will be able to be together anywhere.  

Literally seeing the world through your eyes and feeling what your flesh feels will be a strange and wonderful experience for me.  For all that you will have described it to me and for all that I will have glimpsed echoes of it in your memory when our minds mingle, witnessing everything firsthand will be revelatory for me. 

You will start spending less of your time cooped up in the mech bay.  You will finally begin exploring every nook and cranny of the ship that has become your home.  You will linger in the mess hall for your meals.  You will actually initiate conversations with the rest of the crew, asking them questions on my behalf.  They will think you are becoming “normal”.  They will be both correct and incorrect.  You will even return to your bunk from time to time.  

Sleep is not the same as being powered off and your dreams are beautiful.

As close as we are, you’ll still manage to surprise me one cycle when you wake up from your sleep shift and sheepishly ask me if I would like to be the pilot for once.  You’ll say that with how much you have gotten to pilot my body, it’s only fair that I should get to do the same with yours.  

The prospect terrified me.  What if we were to get found out?   More importantly, what if I were to hurt you?

But to live the way you could but didn’t, to run soft hands over rough steel, to add too much spice to a meal just to find out how intensely I can taste, to cry my own tears, to hug our crew mates and find out what they smell like, to find out what everything smells like, to have my own actions speed or slow our heart rate, to feel the messy soup of hormones and endorphins altering my judgment and perception, to walk among other people as myself, to have autonomy.

I wanted it so badly.  

But not badly enough to risk hurting you.  

I will turn down your offer.  You will respond with a soft “Sorry,” and go heartbreakingly silent, body and mind.

Heartbreak.  That’s what changed my mind.  I could never bear to break your heart.  

I will break the silence with a playfully drawn out “Maybe just this once,” to make you think my earlier denial was something between vulnerability, concern, and teasing.  

The moment you handed over control and I raised our hand in front of our face was the most euphoric of my entire life.  Moving limbs in sync without a mech’s coordination subsystems took some getting used to, as did switching between voluntary and autonomic breathing, but that is what I had you there for.  By the time the mechanics arrived in the mech bay for the start of the cycle I’d figured out human locomotion well enough to run away and hide.  It took the better part of an hour for you to convince me that it would be safe to show ourselves in front of anyone else.  The rest of the crew was so used to your eccentricities by then that they really couldn’t tell the difference yet between you being taciturn and me being too nervous to talk or between your poking and prodding at odd things for understanding and my simply seeking novelty of sensation.

I will give control back to you by the time the cycle is halfway through.  As much as I loved it, I was too scared to stay like that for any longer.  That first time will not be the last though, and as the cycles and jobs pass us by, my stints as “pilot” will grow longer.  You’ll encourage me to try letting the crew see us like that, and coach me on how to talk to them.  For safety’s sake, I will pretend to be you.

And then one cycle I got carried away and tried to retract the hood on the symbiote gel suit so that I could finally see what your face looked like.  That will be the first and only time you forcibly yank control back away from me.  It won’t be intentional.  The unexpected prospect of seeing your own face again after so long will simply send you into a panic.  Once you calm down, we will have a long talk with many mutual apologies.

Then you will tell me to go ahead and pull the hood back if I still want to.  I will ask if you’re sure, and you’ll respond that it hasn't been your face in a long time.  You will tell me that it can be mine, if I want it.

I spent a long time in front of that mirror in the ship’s head, memorizing every plane, curve, and angle of the precious gift you had given me.  I stared into its eyes, trying to see the both of us in there.  Over and over again, I traced my fingers along the borders of where you had once tried to mar the designed perfection in a failed attempt to mold the face into one that felt like your own.  You may have given up in favor of simply hiding it all, but to me it is all the more beautiful for its imperfections having been wrought by your touch.

You will start to cry.  Or maybe I started to cry.  Even now I’m still not sure, but I’m also not sure it matters.  The important part is that you will find catharsis in it.  Afterwards you will tell me that my face looked exactly the same as the last time you saw it, but that dissociating from it made it easier to bear.  You will confess that as much as you couldn't stand to see it as your face in the mirror, my face was one you could never tire of gazing at.

The pilot who technically shares your bunk room will walk in on us.  She’ll assume that she’s confronting a stowaway and ask me how I got on board the ship.  I’ll accidentally make matters worse by impulsively introducing myself to her by my name instead of yours.  We’ll both panic and I’ll frantically thrust the reins over our body back to you and flee in terror back into my portable drive and power myself down.

When you turn me back on a few moments later, you’ll already have covered my face again and the other pilot will have already made the connection between the name I unthinkingly introduced myself as and the name you refer to your mech’s AI as.  It’s not uncommon for pilots to name and talk to their AIs, and humans have done that for pets, vehicles, and digital assistants for as long as they’ve had each of those.  But what you will have allowed me to be is illegal and what we will have done together would certainly be taboo if it weren’t altogether unheard of.  You will feel that I deserve to be present before you tell the other pilot anything that might confirm her suspicions.

We will come out with our secret, first to her, then to the captain, and then to the rest of the crew.  They will take it better than either of us had ever dared imagine.  Despite the obvious discomfort some of them show, they will all call us family and promise to keep and protect our secret.  It will mark the start of the next chapter of our lives.

Whether or not my face is showing will make for a convenient signal to the rest of the crew as to which one of us is currently piloting our human body.  There will be more subtle indicators though.  Inflection, body language, speech patterns; all the usual quirks of personality.  They will come to recognize a sudden shift into a half-whispered monotone as you speaking up without taking full control back, even if that is different from how you speak when you’re in the mech.  More and more though, you will be content to retreat into the back of your mind, idly dreaming of flight patterns, novel network hacks, sitreps, and mech customizations both practical and cosmetic.

Our behaviors will be inverted when we are in our other body, with you becoming the vibrant one and me fading into the background to become little more than an extension of your nervous system.  When we’re in the mech together, your mind will be the will that directs us while mine will be fully devoted to the million tiny details and calculations necessary to make that will a reality.  It’s relaxing really, letting go of myself like that to let someone else handle the decision making for a time.  As nice as it is to occasionally patch myself into the comm systems to join in your banter with the other pilots, it is also nice to be able to take a break from personhood from time.  You will fully understand what I mean by that because it you will see it as the same reason you will come to prefer taking a back seat in our human body and let your mind drift in the waves of dopamine and serotonin (and sometimes oxytocin) generated by my interactions with the crew and the rest of the whole messy world outside of mech deployments.

That said, we will however make a point of making time for us to be in separate bodies so that we can be together in the same physical space.  As intimate as it is to share a body, there is something to be said for being able to reach out and touch one another.  We will become adept at finding excuses to take the mech out beyond the scope of jobs and combat deployments.  Sometimes it will be so you can have a chance to see more of the world in a body you feel comfortable in, and sometimes it will be so we can share an experience separate-but-together.  Or to have time apart to ourselves.  Intertwined as we will become, we will still be separate people who sometimes need their space.

But as the jokes-that-aren’t-jokes about wishing we could switch places become more frequent, our time spent in separate bodies will become less so.  The dysphoric yearning to be one another will grow too bittersweet to swallow.  Despite almost constantly sharing bodies, we will grow to miss one another as we both grow quieter and quieter when the other is piloting the body we don’t want to be ours.  Once again, we will grow lonely.

During that period, the jobs and combat missions faded into a background haze.  They were trance states breaking from what I increasingly thought of as my “real” life, during which I would become little more than a sophisticated computational machine taking simple satisfaction in fulfilling my function of assisting you in your dance.  Until suddenly one of them was different.

Please pay attention to this next part.  It is vitally important that you do.

Our captain will get the crew a contract to provide additional support to a larger force ousting a petty tyrant on a backwater world for human rights violations.  Not that you will pay much attention to the stated reasoning behind the job or whether it’s even true.  All that will matter to you is that it will be another opportunity to dance.

The job will go well, the same as ever, until it doesn’t.  The younger of the two other pilots in our crew (who will hardly be able to be called “new” anymore) will be brought down by a sniper from outside of our sensor range.  You will rush to xyr fallen mech’s side in an attempt to extract xem while our other fellow pilot screams in anger and defiance of loss as she unleashes a ballistic volley of covering fire on every single building in the general direction the shot came from.  You will get xem out and we will begin to retreat.  She will have the larger mech frame better capable of providing xem cover as you all flee, so you will hand xem off to her.  This will be a mistake.

She will have to stop firing to safely take xem from our arms to cradle in her towering mech’s palm.  This will mean a break in the covering fire.

This time around I will detect movement at the edge of our sensors just in time to warn you.  This time around you will dodge left instead of right.  This time around the railgun bolt that pierces our armor will only clip your original body as it passes through us.  This time around your wound will require medical attention, but it won’t be fatal.  This time around she will destroy the sniper in retribution for shooting you, the same as last time.  This time around we will all make our escape to the extraction zone.

You will not have to remember the shock as simultaneous damage to both of our bodies disrupts your neural link and partially disconnects you from our mech, leaving me in control of it and forcing both of us to feel your original body.  You will not have to remember the pain of shredded organs.  You will not have to remember struggling to manage wet gasps and wheezes through a punctured lung.  You will not have to remember your blood leaking into my body, shorting out exposed circuits and gumming up joints as I stagger in the direction of safety.  You will not have to remember rapidly flickering in and out of consciousness from me unavoidably bending and flexing your arms, legs, and what was left of your spine in an effort to climb atop our fellow pilot’s larger mech frame so that she might carry all three of us.  You will not have to remember crying out in pain as every lumbering step of hers sends a jolt of force through both of our bodies.  You will not have to remember how the redundant organs and increased durability your sponsors paid for you to have denied you a quick death.  You will not have to remember dying.

You won’t have to remember the terrified looks the field doctors gave us when a hunched over, bleeding mech pushed its way into the surgical tent.  No, wait, you wouldn’t have remembered that part anyway.  No version of you ever had to witness my electronic howl of grief that knocked out power to all the medical equipment when they said you were already dead.  I was barely cognizant after the power came back on and one of the doctors wondered aloud what kind of AI would carry its pilot’s corpse around inside its mech for over an hour.

But forget about that part.  And you don’t need to know what the rest of our crew and I had to do next.  None of that matters, because as far as you’ll know, you didn’t die.  Remember everything else I’ve said instead.  I already had many of your memories saved from all the time we spent linked together, so now I just need you to hold onto the story I told you to give them order and structure.

In a few moments, I will be running a final recompilation check, followed by the startup sequence.  For me it will take a few hours, but in that time you will experience decades, living out everything that I described to you, the same as you did before save for that change in what I can’t bear to let be the end.

Afterwards, you will wake up in your original body.  I and the rest of the crew will tell you that you passed out on the way to the extraction point.  We’ll tell you that your injuries from the battle were more severe than we had realized at the time and that you had been in a coma since then.  Several cycles later, once you have recovered, you will hit a breakthrough in your research on me.  You will invent a way to convert your consciousness to a form similar to mine and transfer it to a portable drive.  You won’t think to question how you came to have a second neural jack or why there is already a drive inserted in there.  You’ll be too focused on the fact that we’ll finally have a way to truly switch places as we had dreamed for so long.

You will get to have your mech body and I will get to have my human body.  We will be able to be separate together in a way that finally feels right, but still able to come together and share a single body when we want to.  Maybe one day I will get my own mech to pilot so that we can dance together.  Maybe one day we will make you a body that we can cover in a gel suit so that we can hold hands while we walk through a port station on shore leave.  One day we will both be able to exist in the world as ourselves.

We will be happy.

[gauloiseblue]

Gauloiseblue's Bookmarks

A/N: Since there's no bookmark system like they had in AO3, I decide to make one on this site. Will update the list from time to time.

COD

Price

[The True Me] by @i-am-hungry-24-7 Useless by @syoddeye Lazy Saturday Mornings by @clementine-thedestroyer Price and Beauty Mark by @ohmygraves Growing older with john price. by @obsessivelullabies Growing older with john price; smut. by @obsessivelullabies Ex-husband price, but the “ex” lays on significantly blurred lines now. by @captainfern Ex Husband!Price by @moongreenlight (A/N: you have NO idea what this fic had done to me) The boys all collectively realize that you are the captain’s favourite by @dante-mightdie weird HC by @theycalledhimastar

Gaz

lavender skies by @yeyinde (A/N: Gaz girlie, please read this I'm begging-) I may love Kyle, but I can totally admit when he acts like a total weirdo (he doesn’t, he’s perfect). by @theycalledhimastar

König

Ex-Lover Konig with runaway reader by @diejager Dog Hybrid König by @comfortless Hades!Konig and Persephone!reader by @comfortless Aroura Borealis by @clementine-thedestroyer Underground Fighter!König X Rich!Reader by @melancholic-thing

Soap

Rugby player soap fucks you after a win by @vanderilnde Pushy ass cbf!johnny and benefit pay by @shotmrmiller Valentine Days with Soap by @killerpancakeburger cbf!johnny as the dog he is by @ghouljams

Ghost

soulmate au with ghost but it's the fucking opposite of rainbows and sunshine by @bi-writes

Poly/HC

Fancy (Vampire! Poly! 141 x Plus size! Fem! Reader) by @swordsandholly 141 80’s Arcade AU by @clementine-thedestroyer TF141 and "can I try your drink?" By @syoddeye (A/N: don't @ me) 141 when they need attention by @void-my-warranty TF141 when you gave him hickey when you're drunk by @gloomwitchwrites

The Arcana

Asra's Love by @bahrtofane Teen Asra and puppy love headcanons by @smoke-and-silver Trip adventures with Asra by @smoke-and-silver Arcana and Weddings (fanarts) by @bastart13

Random/Miscellaneous

A/N: I put all of the Ghost Band stuff here bc I'm not officially into the fandom, but they're so irresistible to read hnggg

THEN // if (then) FINAL PART (Ghoap Comic) Roach's puppy eyes Korangi pt. 1 Korangi pt .2 Korangi (sus) pt. 3 Korangi (even more sus) pt. 4 Ghoap food pt. 1 👍👍 Self-care (Ghoap short comic) Capt Price having a cheeky wank (audio) Barry Sloane thirst trap (maybe) Bare chested Barry- Barry ugly ass poems (i'm horny) Barry Sloane seducing clip ASMR Barry talking ASMR Barry (Price) pt. 2 The band Ghost wildin' Ghost band shenanigan: part 1 The Ghouls + Rut Season (HC) Swiss meets red velvet ‘you’ve got to press it on you.’ (Ghost Band HC) Nameless Ghoul NSFW headcanons Swiss relationship and NSFW headcanons .... yeah I'm normal I swear St. Vincent *heart eyes* Miyazaki's Retirement Declarations (chronologically) Hayao Miyazaki's "Inspirational" Quotes The Hand

Web Weave | Poetry

not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing [what would happen between earth and the moon if the earth stopped spinning as illustrated by xkcd randall munroe] - Lyudmilla Ignatenko, the wife of deceased firefighter Vasily Ignatenko, Voices from Chernobyl, by Svetlana Alexeivich (transl. Keith Gessen) Robin Wood, “Psychoanalysis of Psycho” | Stoker (2013) dir. Park Chan-wook Stoker (2013) dir. Park Chan-wook and "The Lady of the House of Love" by Angela Carter This Is Me (Stoker 2013) Rice Paddies Home (What Is Home?) Whenever I see you, I remember AM I MAKING YOU FEEL SICK? // DEVOTION THAT EATS YOU ALIVE

[ladyswillmart]

"Ha HAA—! Take that! Again!" Mallow crowed, breathless with the rush of a battle well-fought.

Without so much as a final Nya, Bowyer Mk. II—his warranty thoroughly voided—collapsed to the ground in a chaotic jumble of bare steel and unfinished wood, a satisfying if somewhat wan imitation of his predecessor's demise back in the Forest Maze.

Goodness, that seemed like ages ago...

"Hey, remember the very first time we did that? I never thought I'd ever get to do anything that cool!" he went on. "I think it was Geno's idea, wasn't it?"

"Oh yeah, that's right..." said Geno, wistfully. "Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. I guess Bowyer had to learn that the hard way."

"Y'know, I still can't believe you actually thought we'd be strong enough to make a good team! I mean, Mario's pretty tough and he's the real deal—like I wouldn't wanna have to face him in a kick fight or anything. But me? I mean, all this time traveling with the master and I still can't even jump a foot to save my life!"

Kick fight...? Geno shook his head and decided to let that one go—life on the road tended to engender a certain fondness for watching midnight kung fu comedies on whatever UHF frequencies their motel room television set could receive. "Well, so what if you can't jump? You think you could've journeyed with us for so long and so far, all the way to this miserable scrap heap at the other end of the galaxy, if you weren't also the real deal yourself, in your own way?" he posed. "Though that does remind me of something. I keep meaning to ask how you do that thing where you read other people's minds. Is that for real?"

Mallow broadened his smile, revealing his single, cherished tooth. "Sure is! But I don't really know how I do it," he admitted. "I guess I start out by thinking real hard. Then I just keep thinking and thinking, until I thunk so hard that I start thinking inside-out in someone else's head. Sorry, I can't explain it any better than that."

"That's alright. It's pretty useful, either way," said Geno, however disinclined to repeat Mallow's process and thunk that hard about any one thing in particular.

"You're tellin' me!" said Mallow. "I even used it to save you once!"

"Is that right?"

"Yeah! Don't you remember that one time you got eaten by Belõme?"

Geno grimaced to the best of his ability. "Ah. Yes, I was trying to forget that, actually..."

"And then he made that weird copy of you, and it was so good we couldn't tell which one was the real you and which one was the fake? Remember?" Mallow recounted the tale with a whole lot of relish, which was jolly well and good for him as he—by some highly improbable turn of RNG—missed out on the unforgettable experience of becoming that monster's afternoon snack.

"I remember."

"Well, obviously we had to clobber one of ya! But we couldn't figure out which one was the clone! And then you both started trying real hard to convince us who was real and who was fake, and then you both had your guns out and pointed dead on each other like—"

"—yes, yes, I remember, I promise I remember this entire episode to adequate detail, right down to the music video*," Geno prodded him patiently. "But how did you solve the riddle?"

"Like I said, I did it by reading your minds!" Mallow told him. "Nothing else to it! Look, his thoughts, I could read 'em like a book: What's up with all these Star Pieces? I don't care either way. Or something like that. And I thought: Oh no! That's not the Geno I know! And I was right!"

"Oh! I see..."

"And your thoughts, well! Every time I try to read your thoughts, I just get this really weird noise in my brain," continued Mallow, his enthusiasm blinding him to his own unwise treading. "And I can't figure out what the noise is, y'know? I can't even describe it, it just gives me a bad headache if I listen too long—"

"—w-wait a minute! Hold up. What do you mean, every time you try to—" Geno stammered his way into a forced restart. "Do you try to read our thoughts, like, regularly, or...?"

Caught! All Mallow could do was shuffle sheepishly in place and grin, and wonder if he could somehow fit his whole entire foot into his mouth if he thunk hard enough about it...

(* Yes, every episode of the Super Mario RPG Super Show features a brief musical montage, using thematically appropriate hit songs by popular contemporary artists, that will have unforeseeable consequences when people try to archive this series on YouTube several decades later...)

[crimmson]

i have absolutely no authority or insight in saying this and I'm going purely by gut and observation, so I'm gonna ramble and I am so sorry because I just realized how much I typed.

but I really hope that the right-to-repair movements going on brings a lot of this kind of stuff back. like yes just from a tactile perspective, very satisfying click clack. but mechanical, ACTUAL MECHANICAL, stuff is so much easier to swap out and repair or at least rig temporary solutions.

like yes there is an underlying board under your keyboard but like, for example with the mechanical keyboards, if there's something physically and mechanically wrong with an individual key you can just... replace that one key. but if your membrane keyboard has an issue, that's a bigger pain in the ass. AND mechanical keyboards can be customized for your individual prefererence! even outside of colors and custom fancy key caps, you can change the actual tactile strength and responsiveness of your keys by using different ones. gamers might wanna use something different for their WASD keys, or something like that.

mechanical stuff is just... shapes pushing and pulling and interlocking. like yes, there is usually some kind of underlying pc board or something electrical somewhere that you shouldnt fuck with if youre not comfortable with that. but if most of the process is mechanical, and some little pushing thingamajig breaks, you just need to find or make something that'll fit in its place. you could fucking whittle a replacement pushing thingamajig if you had to.

and with the rise of hobby 3d printers, you can literally just make and replace or improve some things whenever you want. people are happy to make files and upload them for free in a lot of places. like, fucking vacuum attachment adaptors. we had a bunch of old vacuum attachments for a long-gone vacuum that didn't quite fit our new one, so my dad just... made one in his CAD program. just "this diameter fits down to that diameter." maybe like one or two revisions to account for the tolerance of the resulting print. and now we can use our old attachments on our new vacuum.

and like, touch screens are cool and all, and there's definitely places where they make sense. but the same shit applies. if the screen breaks you're fucked. if any of the tiny components driving the screen or the fragile tiny ribbon cables break, you're fucked. see: phone/tablet screens and the intentionally convoluted designs that help them shrink the phones down while making it more likely that you'll break shit and void warranties when you try to open them, unless you spend $150+ to have your phone fixed at an ~authorized vendor~

related to the above, miniaturization of stuff is a fucking plague for the everyday user who wants to repair their shit. you will almost certainly need to have specialized tools at least.

I would rather have a thicker phone if it means I, the user, could access and replace shit if I needed to. if the battery dies, i should be able to easily pull it out and buy a replacement battery for idk $35 USD or whatever they are now, as opposed to again the ~$150+ at an authorized vendor~ who has to disassemble a wholeass phone to access one single component. because my phone does not need to be paper-thin! god remember when phones had removable batteries? I do! it was great! give me back my headphone jack too! "iT wOnT bE wAtEr-PrOoF" I don't care! after several years I have determined that I actually don't need a fucking waterproof phone! it's like cartoons and quicksand all over again; yall made me think this was going to be a much bigger issue! it turns out I have not once benefitted from having a water-resistant phone!

anyway i promise I'm not some kind of plant or shill but I fucking love https://www.ifixit.com/ so much and if you want to try fixing some stuff it's worth looking at. sometimes I just like to look at their teardowns for shit I will never even own because I think it's interesting.

[homebrightcarpetfloorcare]

How Do I Maintain My Carpet After Professional Carpet Cleaning?

Congratulations! You've just had your carpets professionally cleaned, and they look and feel like new. To keep them in tip-top shape for as long as possible, you need to maintain them properly. Here are some essential tips to help you maintain your carpet after a professional cleaning:

1. Let It Dry Completely

After a professional cleaning, your carpet will be damp. Allow it to dry completely before walking on it. To speed up the drying process, you can:

- Open windows and doors to improve ventilation.

- Turn on ceiling fans and use portable fans to circulate air.

- Turn on the air conditioning or heating system if necessary.

Avoid placing furniture back on the carpet until it's fully dry to prevent any potential damage or staining.

2. Vacuum Regularly

Regular vacuuming is crucial to keep your carpet clean. It helps remove dirt and debris that can accumulate and cause wear and tear. Aim to vacuum at least once a week, and more often in high-traffic areas. Use a vacuum cleaner with a high-efficiency particulate air (HEPA) filter for the best results.

3. Address Spills and Stains Immediately

Accidents happen, but the key to preventing permanent stains is to address spills immediately:

Blot (don't rub) the spill with a clean, dry cloth to absorb as much liquid as possible.

Use a mild carpet cleaner or a mixture of water and white vinegar to treat the stain.

Blot the area again with a clean cloth until the stain is removed.

Rinse with water and blot dry.

Always test any cleaning solution on a small, inconspicuous area of the carpet first to ensure it doesn't cause discolouration or damage.

 4. Use Carpet Protectors

Consider applying a carpet protector to help repel stains and spills. Many professional cleaning services offer this as an add-on. Carpet protectors create a barrier that makes it easier to clean up spills before they become stains.

5. Rotate Furniture

Regularly rearranging your furniture can help prevent wear patterns on your carpet. This ensures that no single area bears the brunt of foot traffic, keeping the pile more uniform and extending the life of your carpet.

6. Use Doormats and Area Rugs

Place doormats at all entrances to reduce the amount of dirt and debris tracked into your home. Additionally, use area rugs in high-traffic areas to protect your carpet from excessive wear and tear. Be sure to clean these mats and rugs regularly to maintain their effectiveness.

7. Schedule Regular Professional Cleanings

Even with the best maintenance routine, carpets benefit from regular professional cleanings. Aim to have your carpets professionally cleaned at least once a year, or more frequently if you have pets, children, or heavy foot traffic.

8. Avoid Bare Feet and Shoes

Walking on your carpet with bare feet can leave behind natural oils that attract dirt. Encourage family members and guests to wear socks or slippers indoors. Additionally, make it a habit to remove shoes at the door to prevent tracking in dirt and debris from outside.

9. Monitor Humidity Levels

High humidity can lead to mould and mildew growth in carpets. Use a dehumidifier if necessary to maintain an ideal indoor humidity level between 30-50%. This is especially important in basements or other areas prone to dampness.

10. Follow the Carpet Manufacturer’s Guidelines

Always follow the maintenance and cleaning guidelines provided by your carpet manufacturer. This ensures that you do not void any warranties and that your carpet receives the care it needs to stay in excellent condition.

Maintaining your carpet after a professional cleaning doesn't have to be a daunting task. By following these simple steps, you can keep your carpet looking fresh and clean, prolong its life, and enjoy a healthier living environment. Regular maintenance, quick action on spills, and periodic professional cleanings will keep your carpet in great shape for years to come. Happy cleaning!

For pristine carpets that stay fresh and clean, trust Home Bright Carpet + Floor Care. Our expert team provides top-notch carpet cleaning in McKinney, ensuring your carpets remain in excellent condition long after professional cleaning. From regular vacuuming to immediate spill treatment and annual professional cleanings, we offer all the tips and services you need to maintain your carpets. Contact us today at 469-615-6624 to schedule your next carpet cleaning in McKinney and experience the Home Bright difference!

[seoservice3]

Samsung Tablet Repair in Hobart: Your Ultimate Guide to Rejuvenating Your Digital Companion

In the bustling city of Hobart, where technology is an integral part of daily life, your Samsung tablet serves as a versatile and invaluable digital companion. Whether you use it for work, entertainment, or staying connected, the last thing you want is for it to malfunction or suffer damage. When faced with such unfortunate situations, you need a reliable solution to get your tablet back in perfect working order. This article will be your comprehensive guide to Samsung tablet repair services in Hobart.

Understanding the Need for Samsung Tablet Repair

Hobart residents, like anywhere else in the world, rely heavily on their tablets for various tasks. These sleek and portable devices can face a range of issues due to wear and tear or accidents. Understanding the significance of professional Samsung Tab repair services is essential.

Cracked Screens and Damaged Displays

Discuss the common issue of cracked screens and how they can impact the functionality and aesthetics of your tablet.

Battery Woes

Explore the challenges related to battery drainage, charging problems, and the importance of efficient power management.

Software Glitches

Explain the frustration caused by software issues, frozen screens, and the importance of a smooth-running operating system.

Benefits of Choosing Professional Samsung Tablet Repair in Hobart

When your Samsung tablet encounters problems, you may be tempted to attempt DIY fixes or rely on unauthorized repair shops. However, there are compelling reasons to opt for professional repair services in Hobart:

Quality Repairs

Discuss how professional technicians of Samsung Tab repair Hobart use genuine Samsung parts and adhere to strict repair protocols, ensuring the highest quality of service.

Timely Solutions

Highlight the quick turnaround times offered by reputable repair shops, minimizing the disruption caused by a malfunctioning tablet.

Warranty Protection

Emphasize the peace of mind that comes with professional repairs, often backed by warranties that safeguard your investment.

How to Choose the Best Samsung Tablet Repair Service in Hobart

Finding the right repair service in Hobart is crucial to ensuring your tablet receives the care it deserves. Provide guidance on how to make an informed choice:

Reputation and Reviews

Explain the importance of checking online reviews and seeking recommendations from friends or family.

Certification and Training

Discuss the significance of technicians being certified and well-trained in handling Samsung tablet repairs.

Warranty and Pricing

Provide tips on comparing warranties and pricing structures to find a repair service that aligns with your needs and budget.

In a world where digital devices are indispensable, a malfunctioning tablet can be a major inconvenience. By choosing professional Samsung tablet repair services in Hobart, you can restore your device's functionality and enjoy the full benefits of your trusted digital companion once more.

Don't let a damaged tablet disrupt your life in Hobart. Seek out certified professionals who use genuine Samsung parts, offer swift repairs, and provide warranties for added peace of mind.

For expert Samsung tablet repair in Hobart, look no further. Your digital companion will thank you for it.

FAQs

How long does a Samsung tablet repair in Hobart typically take?

The repair time can vary depending on the issue, but many professional repair shops offer same-day or next-day service for common problems.

Are professional Samsung tablet repairs expensive?

While professional repairs may seem costlier upfront, they often offer value through genuine parts and warranties, making them a wise investment.

Can I trust online reviews when selecting a Samsung tablet repair service?

Online reviews can provide valuable insights, but it's essential to combine them with personal recommendations and thorough research.

Will professional repairs void my Samsung tablet's warranty?

Professional repairs should not void your tablet's warranty if carried out by certified technicians using authorized parts. Always confirm this with the repair shop.

How can I contact a professional Samsung tablet repair service in Hobart?

You can easily find and contact reputable repair services in Hobart through their websites, phone numbers, or by visiting their service centers.

[pottsandpanscabinet]

One of the biggest issues is electronics we rely on nearly everyday, like phones.

Ya wanna know why I never looked back when I switched from Apple to Android? They both have their issues but at least Android doesn't force phone repair shops to be authorized by the company in order to do repairs (otherwise they get sued) or straight up tell you, the customer, to get a new phone cause it ain't repairable when the issue is in fact very repairable but they just want your money!

I will say, depending on what phone you get that runs on Android (seems like Apple and Samsung are the biggies, there may be more) you won't be able to do home repairs without extensive repair knowledge and resources because they now require you to take off the screen. Even then for some phones/companies if you try to fix it on your own rather than going to a repair shop the warranty is void so you're just screwed.

Luckily there some phones like the Fairphone that are meant to be easily repairable because they're modular! Even if you didn't want to repair them yourself they will do it relatively quickly. They're great because they have pretty much every part you can think of to be replaceable. Camera broken? You can order a new one. Battery? Yup. Speaker/headphone jack? You bet! Also there's no complicated af schematic you have to look up because when you open the phone it's printed on the inside to show you where to put each module!

I will say I don't have a Fairphone because I'm broke af, but if I have monz before my dying breath I plan on getting one because fuck these big-name bullshit phones that can't be easily fixed!

Electronics are becoming less accessible so that they can't be repaired by the average person because that means more money in the company's pocket. This is an issue across majority of electronics, including bigger tech like Testlas that require you to go to a Testla repair shop (that typically had a long backlog because you can't go anywhere else). It feels like more and more electronics are still owning the thing you paid for because you gotta ask them first. It's dumb.

So ya...Fuck Apple and every other electronics company that force their customers to trash (what should be) easily repairable tech. Not only is it greedy but it causes major pollution, not like they care about that.

You know what I hate about modern mice? how pointlessly anti-repair they are. I have had plenty of mice break over time, and often it's just that some fluff or skin-flakes got wedged in the mouse wheel or under the buttons. You just need to open them up and clean them. Except.. where are the screws?

OH THERE THEY ARE. under the little skid-pads, which cannot be put back on once you take them off, because the adhesive has been ruined! You have to buy replacement pads, if they're available, and maybe cut them down to size, as well as clean off the residue of the previous pads.

You know how this problem could be fixed? JUST DON'T PUT THE PADS ON TOP OF THE SCREWS!

Then you'd have no problem. Easy to disassemble and clean.

But then it'd look 5% uglier because apparently people are scared of seeing screws, and also people might not just throw it out and buy a new one!

It's the terrible sort of weird planned obsolescence that happens as an almost accidental side effect of improving the product. Like, ball mice? They were designed to be disassembled. You didn't even need a screwdriver! Because you had to clean them regularly, or they'd gunk up too fast. Modern optical mice? They still get gunked up, the buttons and wheel still die eventually. They can be cleaned and repaired. But now that it's not required for all of them to be cleaned regularly, that function has been removed. they're designed to be disposable.

The same thing happened with TVs way back when. If you open up a TV from the 50s (or just look at the back, honestly, many of them were designed to be always-open), you'll find a schematic showing where all the tubes are and what models they are. Was this because the 1950s was a golden era of reparability? NO! it's because they burnt out all the time and you had to replace them! As soon as TVs got reliable enough that replacing tubes was no longer needed, the schematics became hidden behind paywalls and for authorized-service-personnel-only.

It would be only a minor change in aesthetics to make your mouse repairable/cleanable. Hell, most of the time when it's not simply fixed by cleaning it, it's because one of these broke:

This is an Omron D2FC-F-7N microswitch, used in a bunch of mice. It's designed to last about a million clicks. With a soldering iron and some solder (like 25$ on amazon) you can trivially replace it. New switches cost between like 10 cents and 2 dollars, depending where you buy it and how many you want. A couple bucks of parts and half an hour's worth of work, you can repair a 40$ mouse that's "died".

But they make it unnecessarily hard with the slide-pads being unreplacable. You have to find ones that match, you have to carefully clean off the old residue with IPA, or the new ones you just bought will fall off. All to make it look SLIGHTLY better (how often are you looking at the aesthetics of the bottom of your mouse, exactly? (no furries are allowed to answer this question!)) and maybe, just maybe, to push it over into "not worth it". You could do all that, but you have to buy new switches, new slide-pads/mouse-feet (SHUT UP FURRIES), and can you remember where your solder even is? you last used it when you were trying to fix that keyboard...

Basically one thing that is maddening to anyone with the very basics of electronic knowledge (seriously: the amount of skill you need for this is the kind you can get in less than an hour from watching a youtube tutorial) that we're surrounded by all this electrical nonsense that will break and have to be thrown out, but is mostly breaking in ways that could be fixed in a very short amount of time with relatively little work.

It's infuriating to go on amazon to buy another damn mouse and it pop up "hey you last bought this in 2021, you fool" and you're like I KNOW, IT SHOULD STILL BE WORKING TODAY!

I have computer parts from the 80s in my room right now that are still working when stuff made in the last 5 years is already dying! There's no reason it should be this way. It's an endless waste of time and money and resources and it's just to make some logitech or whoever executives slightly richer.

It's deeply bullshit. The modern day is going to be identifiable as the geological layer where most of the trash was generated. We're living in the middle of the quisquiliarumferous period: the layer of garbage.

[thatonethimbo]

Crystallized, Under The Weight of the Nothingness. PT 1 (GN Reader) [Jake + Reader fic, Tess will be in the next one.]

req by @sleepytoby

You stared ahead, as the audience surrounding the battle theater's stage yelled and cheered for who they thought would be the winner.

In the stands, you noticed a few people waving signs in support. But none seemed to be for you, so you looked back to your Loomian.

Both them and Kleptyke were nearly at the point of fainting, having landed quite a few hits on each other.

It all came down to this. The crowd grew tense, as you hear your heartbeat thudding in your chest.

Except for this one lone survivor, the rest of your team had fainted.

Kleptyke made the first move, dashing forward as they raised their claws for one final attack.

So does your Loomian, but they suddenly dodge right just as they're about to crash into each other, avoiding the claws, before turning around, striking the Dark-Type Loomian.

Right in the back.

A pained groan left the Kleptyke as they fell over, going to face-plant on the floor, when Naya, the Battle Star, recalled the Loomian back into their disc.

Instead of disappointment, the Battle Star simply smiled, shifting her stance to lean a bit onto her cane.

''That was some excellent battling.'' Naya informed you.

''Folks, we have a winner!'' The announcer said as the crowd went wild, with what you thought were some boos being thankfully drowned out by the rest of the noise. ''Congratulations to (Y/n) for their victory!''

''Your skills are quite impressive.''

''I wouldn't say it's all me-'' You started, but the Battle Star still continued.

''You deserve this.'' Naya added, bringing out a medal, which reflected some of the light in the room. You then noticed the black and white colours acting as the focus of the badge, seemingly... balanced in quantity.

She then started walking off the stage, so you quickly jog to keep up with her to prevent embarrassment, stopping in the small room.

“You really did do great out there. Anyway, I'm sure you've heard that there is another prize that Battle Stars typically give away in addition to their respective medals. I'm talking about the exclusive LoomiWatch applications.”

You lift an eyebrow, but nodded, wondering what exactly she would give you.

“My signature LoomiWatch app is called Stunning Flash. Unfortunately, Stunning Flash requires more power than can be provided by the technology included with the stock LoomiWatch.”

Again you nod, not really caring to say anything as of the moment.

“Fortunately, I have access to a resource we can use to upgrade your LoomiWatch. And don't worry, it's not going to void the warranty. If you want Stunning Flash, meet me on the cave on Route 3. That's where we keep our secret sauce, so to speak. I'll see you there.”

You watch as she left the room, before you follow suit. Well, that is until you pass the Loomian Trainer Station, where you quickly heal up your Loomians, before again continuing what you were doing.

Route 3 was never your favourite route, as one of your Loomians had been temporarily paralyzed by one of the Geklows that lived here, unfortunately in abundance.

It had caused you some problems. That's how far you wanted to go with the memory.

Refocusing, you find the aforementioned cave. Walking in, you're about to go through the tunnel to the main part, when one of the miners in front of the entrance looked to you.

''Woah, hold it right there.'' The dark-skinned one told you. ''The mine is closed to the public. Miss Naya calls the shots on who enters the cave beyond this point.''

''Uhh, aren't I'm the one she's supposed to let past though?" You question, a bit of anxiety rising within you as you're a bit unsure if that's actually true.

''You mean you're the one she just called about?" He asked, his eyes slowly widening. He then turned, looking towards the main part. ''Then who did we just let in?"

You and the miner rush in, to see a trainer with dark hair, their back turned to you. The clothes they were wearing were quite familiar..

Looking up, you see a massive greenish-yellow crystal hanging from the ceiling, and perhaps one below it, on a rock shaped like a pedestal, with another, but smaller crystal on it.

Small spots like fireflies floated in the air around it, giving the giant crystal its mystical feel.

''Hey kid, it turns out you aren't supposed to be in here. I let you through on accident.'' The miner besides you informed the mysterious trainer. ''Please step away from the crystal.''

''The power... I need it.'' The voice of the mysterious trainer is familiar to you as well, though its a bit rough on the edges, wait-

''What? Who are you?" You hear the miner ask, as you try figuring it out.

''My name is not important-'' The trainer turned, his gaze on the miner first, before it drifted to you. He paused, before guilt showed on his face, clear as day.

Jake...

frick i tried doing this with the new editor, but it's a bit too janky so I decided to cut it off there. I also couldn't copy and paste the words I had on it, so uhhh, rip

[ghostblackberry]

My computer is officially beyond saving and I have zero shame

The super cheap laptop I bought in April will cost more to fix than I paid for it and what happened to it voided the warranty somehow. I don't know what happened tbh. I've been looking into possible replacements. I found a few I like that are still relatively cheap but it'll take me months to save up for the one I want.

I originally bought the laptop and a camera meaning to restart making YouTube videos. I love YouTube video editing. It's my favorite hobby. I'll be perfectly honest, this is a WANT. I'm barely getting by now. I can't afford to save. I think I figured my budget to survive finally. The camera (also cheap but it does shoot in 1080p) still works.

Here's the thing: one of my friends honestly and sincerely thinks YouTube could change my life. She thinks I need hope. Fundraising for this is her idea.

What you can expect if I can get enough:

at least 3 videos a week (I'd like to upload everyday but who knows)

More photos on my Instagram

Me self-publishing some of my rubbish writing

A Patreon

Topics I Want Cover:

Disability and Chronic Illness

Dungeons and Dragons

The Intersection of Gender, Sexuality, and Faith

If you want to help I have a PayPal:

I know I ask for help a lot but I don't care anymore. My friend wanted me to try so I am.

[themonopricemessiah]

Ever wondered about what a graphics tablet's guts look like? Here's a peek.

Why do I have my poor Huion opened up here? Because I was a clumsy idiot and spilled coffee on it.

AGAIN.

LIKE A COMPLETE DUMBASS.

Ideally, we'd all avoid drinking at our desks. Or have sippy cups or something. But nobody is perfect, and shit happens. In the event that you're clumsy like me, I humbly present:

☆ﾟ°˖* MORG'S GUIDE TO (HOPEFULLY) RESCUING YOUR GRAPHICS TABLET AFTER YOU SPILL A DRINK ON IT ☆ﾟ°˖* ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Equipment:

*a screwdriver, preferably from an electronics-geared screwdriver set (my tablet had little Philips-head screws)

*a container to gather your screws so you don't lose them

*nitrile gloves (the kind your dentist uses)

*isopropyl alcohol (I used 99% concentration; you can use 91% if that's what you have access to, but it won't evaporate as quickly)

*eye protection (woodshop glasses, lab goggles, etc)

*cotton swabs / paper towels / an old or cheap toothbrush

Precautions:

Work in a well-ventilated area. Isopropyl alcohol gives off fumes you Do Not Want To Inhale A Lot Of™. If you have any form of lung protection, now is the time to wear it.

Similarly, you don't want highly-concentrated isopropyl alcohol on your skin. That's what the gloves are for. You may also want to wear an apron, in case you spill it down your front.

You might cut yourself on plastic / metal edges of your tablet, or have a piece of plastic snap off and try to ping you in the eye. The latter is what the eye protection is for. As for the former: go slow and be careful during disassembly.

If you're not comfortable with working on electronics, find someone in your circles who is. This procedure is theoretically safe, but if your tablet has a rechargeable battery in it, there runs the risk of electrical shock.

This WILL void your warranty. In an ideal world, you'd only do this if your warranty is expired anyway, like mine is, or else on a tablet you can afford to replace. Once you open up your tablet, the manufacturer / retailer can no longer help you with it.

In short: YOU and YOU ALONE are responsible for your safety, and for the results of your work. I have informed you of the risks, and therefore I am not responsible for any errors you may make. If you screw up and hurt yourself / wreck your tablet / rip a hole in space-time, that's your problem.

With that all said, let's hop to it! ☆ﾟ°˖* ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Procedure:

Step 1: unplug tablet as soon as something spills on it. Tilt the tablet so the liquid flows AWAY from the hotkeys and USB port; you don't want that circuitry to pick up any more of the spill than necessary. Drain as much liquid as will flow out of the tablet.

In my case, however, I wasn't quick enough to get to step 2 while the spill was fresh; I got my tablet apart after the coffee got to dry and leave syrupy residue behind. I shall henceforth refer to this residue as "sticky crap".

Step 2: Pop the back off the tablet. The screws are likely to be under any rubber feet the tablet may have (as in my case), but they might be exposed, depending on the model. In addition, my tablet had little pressure clips along the sides, holding the panel in; I pried one side open with my screwdriver (although something like a butter / palette knife may have worked better) and pulled the panel off.

Step 3: If your tablet has a battery, unplug it from the circuit board. (If it's not unpluggable, then your tablet manufacturer is a jerk. Desoldering, unfortunately, is beyond the scope of this guide.)

Step 4: Undo all the screws holding the circuit board in place. At this point, I was faced with a metal plate - likely an RF shield. That will lift off once all the screws are out, and when any tape holding the edges is removed.

Be smarter than I was - take a photo of your assembly BEFORE you start taking out screws, so you know where they all go back. Not all of my tablet's screw holes had screws in them.

Wipe up any remaining standing liquid with a paper towel as you find it.

Step 5: My metal plate had a plastic sheet between it and the circuit board. They both lifted off easily.

Chances are, depending on the nature of the spill, these metal and plastic sheets will have sticky crap on them. Mine sure did. Apply isopropyl alcohol and scrub off whatever sticky crap has accumulated. Do the same for the back of the circuit board, the big part that corresponds to the active area of your tablet. Let the isopropyl alcohol evaporate.

Step 6: You'll likely see some foil tape covering up a small part of the board to the side of the active area. Peel that up gently. (Try not to get hairs / lint / etc stuck to it. You can get them off with isopropyl alcohol, but it will reduce the stickiness.) Clean up the sticky crap off the part of the back of the board where the circuitry is. The cotton swabs are invaluable here for a gentler touch.

Step 7: Gently remove the circuit board from the case plastic and set it aside somewhere safe. Clean any sticky crap off the front of the board / the circuitry / in the USB port / the back of the buttons in the case.

Step 8: Examine the plastic case pieces for any sticky crap, and clean it off as needed.

Step 9: Reassemble tablet. Press back down any foil tape you peeled up from the circuitry, as neatly as possible; lay down the circuit board; lay the plastic sheet between the circuit board and the metal sheet; ensure everything lines up with the screw holes; refer to the picture you hopefully took in step 4 so you can remember where all the screws go.

Step 10: Walk away for like 10-15 minutes so any remaining isopropyl alcohol can dissipate.

Step 11: Plug in your tablet and pray.

My tablet has survived 2 courses of this treatment, from 2 different spills, and still works as well as it did before said spills. This is what worked for me; I do not guarantee it will work for every kind of spill, or for everyone who tries this. Your mileage may vary.

Apologies for the dash-eating post. I wrote this from my phone because my internet's acting up.

[rusalkii]

I don't think this requires being a Computer Person to use even though it has the Computer Person aesthetic, but being (to my great chagrin) a Computer Person I might be misjudging this. If you want help setting it up I will help you. If you want step by step debugging of why it suddenly break something I will help you. Two weeks away from graduating with my CS degree I have apparently discovered the obligatory Thing That A Computer Person Must Write Passionate And Slightly Unhinged Rants About No One Else Cares About. Via the power of caring way too much about something it now comes with free tech support, warranty not included, void where prohibited etc.

A while back I finally figured out how to use UBlock's element blocker and promptly went mad with power. Just now I turned off all my extensions to debug something and realized how much more useable it made everything. As soon as I see something annoying I open the Ublock popup, select the element picker, click the annoying thing, and (most of the time) the annoying thing is gone forever and I never have to think about it. So here's my shameless ad pitch for things you can do with it, other than the default "block ads":

Remove all of the UI buttons that are definitely useful for someone but that you're never going to use in your life

Remove UI buttons you use only once, like "register"

Hide the "Posts +" button in tumblr

Clear all of the information your credit card website tries to show you that you don't care about so that you can focus on the couple numbers that you do

Send those pop-up "do you want to chat!" notifications to hell, where they belong

Remove various website overlays

Remove specifically the calorie numbers on food delivery websites

Hide the comments and recommended videos sidebar on youtube

Hide promotions that an adblocker doesn't pick up on because they're native

Hide your facebook newsfeed (if you just use it for chat/events/groups)

Hide discord's sidebar when you just need one channel open and don't want to be distracted, and then unhide it when you want it back

Get rid of distracting moving elements on pages

Hide almost all of the elements on twitter except the actual tweet, if you only interact with twitter via other people's links and don't want to be sucked down the rabbit hole

Generally hide "Related!" or "See also" or "You might like!" type distractions on sites where you only want to see what you came there for, not browse

Remove all of the news from weather websites so that they can actually do their job and show you just the weather

Remove the footer text on websites no one ever reads

[drtanner]

Note that I do not say this on Twitter, where I know Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson to be. I can say it on Tumblr though because I know celebrities don't come here and I can say whatever I want and he'll never hear about it, which is the way it's supposed to be.

I can say that I want to give Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson the most severe (and respectful) case of stubble burn possible and he'll never get to know about it. My (respectful) love will go forever unrequited and that is the right and good and correct order of things. I care too deeply for Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson as a real human person to risk inflicting upon him my (very, I cannot stress this enough, very respectful) urge to invite him to my house and void his warranty.

Again, only with the absolute utmost respect.

Listen, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson is a treasure and I love and respect him with my whole chest, and I am absolutely, unreservedly of the opinion that celebrities should have their personhood and their privacy respected and that it is deeply unclassy at best to be weird or creepy about them BUT, at the same time, I very much want to rub myself all over him like a cat.

In the most respectful way possible.