steam repeatedly notifying you that a friend is booting up a game thats clearly not cooperating feels like ur sitting inside and someone outside keeps trying to rev up a lawnmower
You know, given how C. lupus, C. lupus familiaris, and C. latrans can all create perfectly viable hybrids, and that the proto-dogs that domestic dogs descended from much more resembled coyotes than wolves, it's not really a surprise that some yotes are experimenting with domestication.
Goddamn that lady must be fucking shredded to be able to chase down a coyote through a swamp.
"Don't let wild animals into your house, you are not going to make Dogs 2.0, you're going to get injured and the animal killed." is probably obvious enough advice that I don't need to put it in the tags as a reminder.
...I know more than four people on this site that have poisoned themselves trying out 'foraging guides' they found online, two people IRL who tried to keep raccoons at pets, and have a family member who got hospitalized for Cat Scratch Fever after grabbing a feral cat bare-handed.
This is apparently, not obvious enough.
Video game where you get to play as a knight of the Round Table and go on quests and gain renown and level up your skills and befriend and romance other characters but it always ends in everyone being slaughtered at Camlann. You can decide to assist Mordred in usurping his father or support the king you have served for so long but everyone will die anyway. This kingdom will inevitably crumble, you canât do anything about it. You can put hundreds of hours into it and there is nothing you can do about that. But you CAN flirt with sexy single father Gawain!
The thing was a mound of flesh and mottled skin, as big as a barn and the shape of a pumpkin. Four tentacles as thick as trees hung limp at its sides; teeth ringed the gaping mouth at the top of its head like a crown.
A huge, sad whale eye the colour of wine stared at the knight. She could see her reflection in the jelly surface.
âWe donât know what it is,â she heard. âSome kind of monster that makes a perfect copy of whatever it eats. They think that was how the Dark Lord made his armies, feeding his minions to it so that it would make hundreds of copies of them. Do you recognize it?â
The knight opened her mouth. She hesitated. âYeah,â she murmured, drawing out the word. âWe found it in the Dark Lordâs tower, right?â
âThatâs right. Thatâs where it ate you.â
The knight turned around and looked at her other reflection. This one appeared to be about ten years older, and had doffed her armor for a loose blue tunic and breeches.
She was holding a cup of tea. She had pressed another cup into the knightâs hand when she woke up here. It had been a shock finding herself suddenly out the obsidian dungeons of the Dark Lordâs tower and into this tall room of stone and straw. The warmth of it in her hands steadied her a bit.
âEveryone else in the party was worried, but then it started making copies of you,â the copy went on, staring up at the tentacled thing. âAnd all of the copies helped fight against the Dark Lord, and we won, and peace was restored across the land, but then nobody could figure out how to kill the damn thing or just to make it stop. Dozens of copies of us in a day, hundreds in a week, and then someone decided that the only thing we could do is just bring the thing here, seal it off and hope it starved to death.â
She sipped her tea. âAnyways, that was two-hundred years ago and itâs slowed down a bit. It can only make a new copy of us every few weeks now.â
The knight looked down into her tea. The copy had also draped a blanket over her shoulders.
âI have so many questions,â she said.
âI figured.â
âHow can it be two-hundred years? I can still remember breaking into the tower. That feels like it was just minutes ago.â
âIt was, basically. Your brain is a perfect copy of the original youâs brain at the exact moment she was eaten.â
âBut the quest is just â done?â
âYep. You missed some of the things that needed tying up afterward. There was a war, and a dragon, and some business about a ring.â She waved a hand. âIt was before my time. Things are pretty settled now.â
âMy parents?â
âPassed away about a hundred-and-fifty years ago. Iâve been told that they were very proud.â
The knight nodded. âUm. I donât know if you know â we had an elf in our partyââ
âIâm aware.â
âI â right. Obviously. Um. Itâs just, after everything was done, I was going to ask herââ
âOne of us did. She said yes. She outlived her. A couple of us have tried to reach out since then, but she wants to be left alone for a while.â
The knight considered this. âUh â right,â she said eventually. Her fingers tightened around the tea cup. âUm. What do I do now?â
Her older copy shrugged. She had let her hair grow out again, the knight noticed. There were a few strands of grey against the black. âThatâs up to you, Iâm afraid,â she said. âA lot of us are finding work as soldiers and sellswords. Weâve done it for so long that most armies know weâre reliable and donât tend to turn one of us away. Most of us are just sort of spreading out, wandering the world. Some of us keep in touch.â
The knight frowned. âWhat do you do?â
Her copy paused, tea cup half raised to her lips. âSorry?â
âYou said it only makes a new copy every few weeks now. So you just stay here and wait for a new one to show up?â
She lowered the cup. âWell,â she said. âI guess I just â I know what it can be like, waking up here in the dark, and it â it can be horrible trying to figure all of this out on your own.
âSo I thought that what Iâd do is just stay here with a pot of tea, and whenever I see myself again, I tell her that â that sheâs not alone.â
âWe arenât?â
âOf course not. Weâre all in this together, you know.â
#stories #:( does the flesh mound know that the dark lord is gone now #does it know that itâs safe #has it been in panic mode making clones for 200 years #just knowing that itâs running out of steam. it canât keep this up #can the flesh mound get a cup of tea pretty please can someone give it a hug:(
âSo do you live here alone?â
âYeah, mostly. Just me and Moundy, basically.â
The knight stared. âSorry â do you mean the flesh blob that ate me?â
âIt ate me too, you know,â the copy said. She picked up a third teacup. After a moment the thing held out a tentacle, which the copy balanced the cup on. âMaking a copy really stresses it out these days, so I try to calm it down when that happens.â
The teacup was raised to the huge wine-dark eye. It did⌠something to it, something like inhaling through its eye, gave a shuddering sigh and oozed in relaxation.
âIt did eat you though,â the knight said.
âThat was hundreds of years ago. I donât hold it against it.â
This is literally what people are talking about when they say AI will be used to mainstream widely held bigotry. LLMs are trained on frequency and probability -> straight relationships are more well represented in the dataset -> straight pronouns and terms become the "correct" normal.
This is a form of backdoor bigotry from both normative facts (there are more straight than gay relationships) and well represented bigoted beliefs (men are superior to women).
Combine this with the mass of people inclined to believe (and being encouraged to believe) that if AI says and does something it must be correct
1. The court holds Google responsible for statements made by its AI, considering them Google's statements (search engines have limited liability for results in their engine as they're the words of other sites/companies/people), meaning when their AI lies/hallucinates they're liable for the defamation/harm resulting from those statements.
2. Google's defense that customers are generally aware of the lack of reliability and are responsible for fact checking was dismissed. As the court pointed out, that would "significantly diminish" AI Search's stated purpose and it can't be distinguished from Google's business practices/statements as a search tool.
3. Studies have found about 91% of Google's everyday AI responses are accurate, leaving millions of searches per HOUR with potential liability for falsehoods. 56% of correct responses weren't supported by the sources the AI listed. Both of which mean Google is now liable for a LOT more AI "errors."
4. Google was held liable for 80% of court costs in this case and this precedent is expected to reverberate around the world. This is a massive shift from the 3rd-party search provider role Google has previously played and it comes right as they've tied ALL searches to their AI search.
thereâs sixteen Colorado counties that their most searched was âwolf furryâ, plus thirty-odd counties (not counting either Arapahoe or any of the ones marked here as âInsufficient Dataâ) which may well have had plenty of searches for âwolf furryâ, just fewer than for whatever theyâre labeled here
and âskunk furryâ searches in Arapahoe County outnumbered âwolf furryâ searches in the entire state of Colorado
i will never be over the fact that during first contact a human offered their hand to a vulcan and the vulcan was just like âwow humans are fucking wildâ and took it
#iiiiiiiiiiiiii mean vulcans had been watching humans for a long time#they knew the significance of a handshake but still#they had to find some fast and loose ambassador#willing to fuckin make out with a human for the sake of not offending them on first contact#lmao#star trek
give me the story of this fast and loose vulcan
âsirâŚtheseâŚthese humansâŚthey greet each other byâŚâ *glances around before furtively whispering* âby clasping handsâŚâ
*prolonged silence* âoh myâŚâ
âsirâŚsir how will we make first contact with them? surely weâŚwe cannot refuse this handclasping ritual, they will take it as an insult, but what vulcan would agree to such a distasteful and uncomfortable ritual??â
*several pensive moments later*Â âcontact the vulcan high command and tell them to send us kuvak. i once saw that crazy son of a bitch arm wrestle a klingon, heâll put his hands on anythingâ
I swear Vulcans only come in two types and they are âdistant xenophobesâ or âhorny on main for humanityâ. Also apparently this guy is Spockâs great-grandfather and frankly that explains everything.
Hey so I looked into this at one point and that handshake literally created a lifelong telepathic bond between the two of them, and basically all of Solkarâs descendants were later obsessed with humans, including freaking SPOCK, so Iâm not saying that handshake was so gay and good that it created an intergenerational telepathic bond between Solkarâs descendants and humans, but Iâm also notâŚ.notâŚ.saying that.
The slow deliberation with which Solkar takes CockraneâsâIâm sorry, Cochraneâsâhand⌠The sheer sensuality witch which Solkar infuses an otherwise borderline impersonal social ritual⌠It clearly shows a very conscious knowledge, on Solkarâs part, of what the significance of the handshake is in Vulcan terms and of how affected he is by it.
Thatâs why heâs so slow in doing it, and so sensual. A part of Solkar canât believe this is happening, despite it being a perfectly logical thing to expect from a human, and the rest of him canât believe how good it is.
I bet that if the camera zoomed in any further we would see the dilation of Solkarâs pupils and a quickly-repressed shiver of delight. Cochraneâs firm, businesslike clasp is probably (in sexual terms) being perceived as a deliciously carnal display of dominance.
No wonder Solkar is all like, âTAKE ME, YOU WILD-MANNERED BARBARIAN WITH ENTICINGLY ROUGH CALLUSES.â
#somehow the idea of vulcans being Horny On Main always gives me the giggles#like literally all they had to do#was be like actually#hand contact is very intimate for our species#and im p sure humanity as a whole would not find that insurmountably weird#there are human cultures that dont shake hands#vulcans are logical enough to think that through on their own#so clearly that vulcan was just down to fuck#down to fuck in a public#professional diplomatic situation no less#and he did not fucking care who knew it (via kittykatthetacodemon)
Looking for disability crafts I can do sitting in bed, so Iâm channeling my inner grandma. Richelieu cutwork doily from a pattern I drew myself. Here is a link if anyone wants it!
The really unfortunate thing about mental health progress is that sometimes you realize you've made it in the form of "wow, I haven't felt this bad in a fucking while"
On the one hand it's a bit of a pick me up in a dark place to know that this will pass because it has passed before on the other hand sometimes it isn't entirely a pleasant thought to go "wow, I used to feel like this all the time. That was pretty fucking bad. It's pretty bad right now too also."
in elementary school i figured out how to customize the classroom desktop's autocorrect to make Word change whole sentences. this made it appear almost like the computer was responding to you. you could, for example, type in "where did i put my keys", hit enter, and watch it switch to "you put them under the couch". this was before chatbots, and we were all 9 so i considered it closer to a magic trick than a tech one.
i immediately scripted out a dialogue exchange between me and a girl who had died by the swings (classic). i invited another student over and told them i had found a ghost, then proceeded to type out the pre-scripted exchange. i was immediately pulled into the counselors office. the kicker was that none of the adults could figure out how i did it. i had to show them the menu and everything.
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