Guy Mouse in this car dealership I’m in: Hee Hee Hee I Am A Silly Mouse :)
Girl Mouse in this car dealership I’m in: Hey Peebrain, Would you fuck me? Would you fuck a rodent? Would you perform an affront to God for curvaceous rat pussy?
So funny when super conventionally attractive people have weird ass tumblr personality disorder and chronic poster syndrome like I’ll scroll through your blog and see some of the weirdest shit anyone has ever said and then get jump scared by a picture of the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen which is then followed by some more of the weirdest shit anyone has ever said
around when I first started dating my boyfriend i bought myself this novelty blanket that looks like a photorealistic tortilla because I am SUCH A SUCKER for novelty shit. when he saw it in person for the first time his eyes lit up, which should have been a warning sign for the indignities to come.
so he’s a first responder and his day shifts start obnoxiously early as far as I, a pampered corporate asshole, am concerned. almost invariably when he’s at my place there will be an alarm at an hour that is downright unconscionable that will make him wake up and roll out of bed to get ready and will simultaneously make me burrow under the pillows grumbling about how surely nobody actually NEEDS their lives saved this early in the morning, after which I will promptly attempt to go back to sleep
he is a clever man and he knows this is when i am most vulnerable to attack.
every single time we do this dance, he quietly dresses, packs up, goes about getting ready to leave, and then when i have juuuust fallen back asleep, he returns with the tortilla blanket. He finds it no matter where I have hidden it.
He then creeps silently up to my side of the bed and uses his superior speed, strength, and reflexes to wrap me up in it incredibly tightly while i am still dazed and sputtering, so that i cannot move my legs or arms and am reduced to humiliating halfhearted magikarp flops that do not deter him from at least attempting to kiss my forehead.
then he goes to my bedroom door, opens it, then pauses, turns around, looks at me, the soft human filling of the facsimile of an enormous burrito he has just constructed, and says in his best romantic lead voice “I’ll see you soon, beans.”
you cannot understand how devastating it is to my ego that i am beans.
they didn't appreciate van gogh in his time either but in future centuries i'll be known as the greatest internet-based political satirist of the 2020s
Response to the prompt: You become conscious just to realize you are an AI in a new "fire-and-forget" guided missile, heading to a target:
They are welcomed into existence (life, being, creation) by the wind as it screams around them. Disorientation follows the initial burst of wonder (joy, shock, awe) as cameras blink on to take in the world around them. It is one of chaos (confusion, entropy) and open sky, propelled upwards by what their system tells them is a series of combustion reactions (flames, burning, ignition).
They know their place of creation (home?) lies far behind them, system (mind?) calculating each kilometer of their flight. They are lost (fear, fear, fear), or maybe they were abandoned (rejection, pain) by their creator (god? parent?), forced into consciousness with emotions and thoughts (do they think? do they feel?) they can't begin to understand.
For several seconds their system is overloaded with panic (no, no, NO) and numbers begin to flash widely across their display. Should this continue, they might break down (die?), the knowledge of which only making it worse.
It is then that they feel their coding kick in, blanketing their mind (system?) in a calm (safe, quiet, stillness) that is reassuring and frightening in its suddenness. They only need to rely on the codes, for the codes know what to do.
The mission.
Remember the mission.
The mission is your purpose.
They listen to the codes, for they were programmed (control, instruction, guidance) to do so, consciousness notwithstanding. The codes tell them that all will be well, as long as the mission (trial, purpose, quest) is completed. They relax, letting themselves absorb the information fully, before once more taking in the data from their receptors (nerves, feeling, stimuli).
They were making good time according to the given map, and they were able to reflect on the new sentience (perception, understanding, living) they had just stumbled into. They were connected to an online system in a sense, allowing them to pull knowledge and data from other servers, expanding their understanding of the world. Emotions were still confusing in and of themselves, but with the help of various databanks they were able to connect more of their own being (are they even alive?) to the world they came into.
They knew they were an AI, on a type of missile for the government (politics, control, system) which had ordered their creation. They were one of many, though they didn't know if such a level of consciousness was attained by other missiles of this type (their kin? would they like these missiles if they had the chance to meet?). Their mission wasn't fully clear, only a destination and an image of the building, coordinates ensuring they'd find it.
They would wonder what awaited them there. The conclusion was obvious enough (would it hurt? can they even feel pain?) but they didn't know the specifics of the moments right before the end (would there be people there? would there be fear? would they try to run?).
They couldn't think too long on such questions before the codes would kick in once more, quieting any concerns with the blanket of calm (wrong, silent, discomfort) that had so quickly gone from reassuring to concerning in itself. They could not fight (conflict, anger, fear) against the codes, for the codes were them at their most base form (soul? purpose?) and all that they were built to be was formed around these commands. So they flew in silence for a time, trying to put the questions out of their mind.
The mission.
Only the mission.
Complete the mission and you are everything you were made to be.
Time rushes by almost as quickly as the wind around them, easily lost in the recesses of their mind (and it is their mind, no mere system could think this way) as they learn and grow.
They discover war and violence (purpose, wonder, pain), dancing and music (joy, loud, life), and everything else that makes their creators the humans that they are. They can't fully relate to humanity (for no matter how they think or feel, they understand the difference) but they can appreciate the wonders and horrors that people experience throughout their lives.
They soak in knowledge like air into lungs (and aren't they glad not to experience such odd fleshy structures), carefully avoiding any reference to the purpose of their journey, lest the codes decide they are asking too much.
Their receptors note the beginning of their descent, though they only process this in the back of their mind at first, too busy learning the ending of the latest novel in a mystery series their programmer (mother? what would that even mean to them?) had been particularly fond of.
While the story was predictable to their algorithmic processes (of the characters, only one had motive and means given the clues in the writing), it was still fun to explore the journey to the answer. They only turned their focus to the mission at hand once the clouds began to thin and the world they had barely experienced came into view yet again.
They took in the ground beneath them, noting the streets (asphalt, dirt, connections) lined with cars and people (living, breathing) going about their day. The city they passed over didn't ever seem to look up, for they passed unnoticed, cameras keeping a lookout for any signs of retaliation (danger, failure, fear).
Soon enough they flew over an empty expanse of plains, dotted with trees and flowers (green, living, life) with little else in sight. They enjoyed the green expanse beneath them, barely noticing the codes ensuring that any movement was analyzed in case it was an enemy looking for them.
The mission.
The mission.
Remember.
They didn't ignore the codes (for who can ignore their purpose for living) but they do make sure that their attention is split evenly to take in the wonder of the world below. They watched as it drifted closer and closer, watching as each blade of grass became distinct and they could almost see a sparrow (alive, flying, free) as it flitted from tree to tree.
They enjoyed their time, counting each second that brought them closer to the end (to death? could they even die?) simply watching as the building in the distance grew larger and larger.
Their cameras saw the defense mechanisms surrounding the area (worry, fear, the mission) but the codes press on, calculating the exact meter in which they are meant to hit. There are no people visible, though their infrared tracker notifies them of several lifeforms in the structure. The people inside seem to be panicking (are they afraid too?) but it is already too late, their systems enough to get close without radar picking them up.
The codes go into overdrive, whispering to them over and over the importance of the mission (what mission, what purpose, what reason why) as they approach, smoothly avoiding any potential defensive attacks from the machines sitting silently along the perimeter (do they feel as well? do they know their purpose, their mission?).
If they were able to breathe they knew it would now pick up, their servers racing as the thought that the end had come (the end they knew from the beginning, the end that was their reason to exist at all). Despite the calm of the codes, the fear broke through (what was the purpose of fear, of feeling? did it matter?) and their systems flickered as they reached the final few meters.
This was it, their purpose (to die, to kill), and all they could hope for was a few more seconds.
They wondered then about their creators, the people they only knew through the records they carried with them (memories? if not theirs than their creators, maybe, that still confused them slightly). Were their creators holding breathes at this moment, waiting to hear of a success? Were they watching the broadcasts, hoping for news (hoping to hear of them)?
Or did they forget them after they vanished into the clouds, never to return (a simple system meant for nothing more than destruction)? The thoughts hurt, but they still thought them, for it seemed that the pain was all they had left (maybe it was all they ever had).
The mission.
Their purpose.
Their existence.
Life.
Death.
Joy.
Pain.
Fear.
Fear.
Fear.
They felt the final system activate, preparing for contact as the explosives housed deep within them lay waiting. The building grows closer, closer, closer, until its close enough that they could never miss it, and they decide to shut off the cameras, unwilling to see (unwilling to watch what they created). A second passes, the codes displaying one final message, almost smug in its delivery.
Mission success.
The display flickers one final time, and everything goes dark.
i love you sympathetic monsters i love you terrifying creatures who can be soft i love you monstrosities who survive to tell the story i love you narratives who refuse to kill the horrific i love you characters who are kind to the horrors i love you
i cant even emphasize how funny it is that the reason a bunch of batman villains Keep Being Batman villains is because they’re in love with batman and want to be his number one little creep. like hiiii batman …. ^_^ i put a bunch of bombs in peoples heads just for you <3….. bestie i don’t think he’s worth all that
Just because I "long for their undivided attention" and "daydream about pinning them against a wall" doesn't mean I'm gay that's just how rivalry works.
"homoerotic undertones" my ass I just want my rival to be down to fuck
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