Me, a humble draugr, quietly minding my own business in my barrow tomb, doing my daily chores (lighting the candles, taking the frostbite spider for a walk, making the large swinging axes swing in the corridor of large swinging axes), having a sleepover with the lads in the deathlord’s chamber
YOU, loud, alive, obnoxious, barging into our tomb eating an entire wheel of cheese, making a mess, plundering my life savings from my burial urn, setting fire to frosty (the frostbite spider), re-killing me and the lads, WAKING the deathlord
I’ve been working on a wooden longbow most of the afternoon. Here are ten easy steps for making your own 🙂
1. Cut down a tree
2.Split that tree into lengthwise sections called staves. The dog will help
3. Build a woodshed
4. Let those staves dry for a few years in the shed
5. Remove all the shit that isn’t a bow. The dog will help again by lying on your foot
6. Make sure the handle stays centered in the growth rings
7. Steam bend and weight the wood so that both limbs start with the same bend
8. Slowly remove wood from the belly of the bow on both sides until they bend evenly
9. Add tip overlays, handle wraps, and all the fancy crap
10. Go out in the yard and practice till hunting season starts
I may need to drive to town for some human contact.
😮
Any particular wood? What was it here? I always meant to try making a bow out of my parents’ overgrown yew shrubbery, but that didn’t work out.
Pictured in the compilation above are shagbark hickory, hop-hornbeam, and common buckthorn. While English yew is rightfully considered one of the best bow woods, almost any straight grained hardwood can make a very nice bow. You can even use maple boards from the hardware store to start.
“Shagbark Hickory,” “Hop-Hornbeam,” and “Common Buckthorn,” all sound like the names middle earth kids give their high school garage bands.
😂😂😂… and now my brain just created Ent Metal as a genre. It’s pretty damn Larghissimo, but very strong.
what a fuckin’ nerd.
Okay now I want to figure out what ent metal would sound like.
I’m thinking thunder and whale song. Somehow.
The amount of notes this has gotten is absurd. That doesn’t happen to my posts, but since you crazy kids seem interested here’s (one of a gajillion ways) to make the accompanying primitive arrows.
We want lighter wood than we used to make the bows. This is white cedar- nice and light and sproingy.
Mill that up into rectangular pieces as long as your arrows need to be.
Then you use this homemade tool called a shooting board to rest them in while you hand plane them from rectangular to round.
You saved your wings from the spring turkey hunt, right? Good, we’re gonna need those primary feathers.
Make yourself a pattern out brass or copper sheet, clamp the feather to it, and burn it with a torch. This will shape the feathers into fletchings.
Now we need to make pine pitch glue by melting together pine pitch (you can pick it off pine trees where they’ve been injured) and hardwood charcoal. Think of it as ancient people’s super glue.
Get your paleontologist buddy to give you some rock from actual Paleolithic quarry sites ‘cuz that’s pretty rad.
Learn flint knapping… he said casually after years of hair-pulling-out struggles with it.
Attach your stone points to your arrow shafts using the ancient super glue stuff and leg sinew from the deer you got last year. Do the same for the fletchings.
And you’re finally ready to start practicing! Don’t worry, the dog will help again by standing directly in front of the target because she’s beautiful and loving, but not very good at critical thinking sometimes.
mansies, this post keeps getting more awesome. 🙂
also, proposal: should Caradhras have a different name in summertime? i’m feelin’ a more Bag End or Hobbiton vibe when the place isn’t covered in show.
You can’t go changing place names seasonally, @danipup What would the maps look like? Every place has 4 names?😂😂
From up the thread- I’m glad all these Old Romantics are into Ent Music.
@systlin this seems like it would be right up your.. archery lane?
Holy shit
You can also do a bath and bend version where you use straight pieces of wood instead of carving them, soak the wood in salted water, set to dry using clamps to shape it; repeat the bath soak then clamp set (moving the clamps for each new set) until your bow is in the preferred shape.
(This is how my uncle taught me to make long bows in his workshop at Howitzer when I was a child. They made a lot of fiberglass bows, which I was too young to be around the manufacturing of, and mostly made compound bows (the ones with pulleys that give more tension to the pull). My uncle designed the Warthog bow for himself and other short people who like to now hunt. OP has a couple of clever life hacks to my uncle’s method (using lifting weights is a genius idea), and an excellent bow making method. I am only sharing a different technique for those who may find soaking easier than steaming (or those who find themselves needing to make a bow in the wild since you could bind the wood around a tree instead of clamping it to shape).
“because a 16 year old girl who had her first orgasm whilst getting raped, had to watch her 34 year old rapist go free because she had an orgasm.
because when one of my guy friends told me and some friends he got raped by a woman when he was 12, a “friend” laughed at him and told him he should be happy he got laid that young.
because my 17 year old friend’s parents let her 14 year old brother roam the streets until 12am, but she has to be home by 10.
Because my brothers girlfriend, told the police she was raped and fell pregnant but the rapist didn’t get jail time as she got an abortion and the ‘evidence’ was gone.
because a guy from my old school was raped by another guy, but because he’s gay, they said it wasn’t considered rape.
because a 19 year old lesbian got raped by a guy, and he didn’t go to prison because he said “he only tried to turn her straight so she would be accepted by her parents”.
because in some cultures, girls (and boys, of course) still get thrown out of the family because somebody sexually assaulted them.
because they’re still teaching girls to walk faster at night instead of teaching boys that they shouldn’t rape.
Because they’re teaching kids that they’re only male rapists and not female rapists too.
because I have to explain why rape makes me mad.“
If you excuse rape for any reason stay the fuck away from me because you are literally a peice of human refuse.
I’ve reblogged this before but he’ll im doing it again
Rape is not, and never will be sex. Rape is the same as a punch in the face, rape is assault.
RAPE IS NOT SEX. RAPE IS AN ACT OF VIOLENCE.
RAPE IS NOT SEX.
RAPE IS AN ACT OF VIOLENCE.
I just wanna add that last year at school we were finally taught a class on how to recognize signs of abuse in relationships and what to do in situations where you might get assaulted, but what I loved the most about it is that the book we got included every type of abuse in romantic relationships (including rape and a clear example of what is and isn’t rape, effectively teaching both guys and girls not to rape or abuse their partner (or strangers) and how to avoid it happening to them if at all possible) as well as same sex examples instead of it always being a guy acting abusive towards his girlfriend (there were also examples where the girl was abusive towards her boyfriend, that way having an example for almost every type of relationship).
Also, this wasn’t all just physical abuse either. It also taught what verbal abuse is and how subtle it can be + what it does to the victim AND how to recognize when you or your partner is being manipulative (one of the examples here was a girl wanting to break up with her girlfriend but couldn’t because her girlfriend kept threatening self harm and even suicide if she did, but there were less extreme examples as well).
All in all it is a fantastic book as it doesn’t just teach when you are being abused, but it also teaches you how to recognize when you are being abusive.
It saddens me both that it has taken this long for this to finally be taught here, but also that this isn’t something you’re going to learn at school in a less progressive country.
It doesn’t matter what kind of “justification” or “intention” they had. If it was non-consensual, it was wrong, awful, and illegal. Rape is possibly one of the worst things that can happen to someone and shouldn’t ever be justified.
She gie’d her mammy a cake, she turnt intae a big bear, and her old yin tried tae dae her in. If that’s no pure mess, I don’t know wut is. Simples.
I’ll be honest, I got the first part of that, and the last part. But there is an entire sentence in the middle, that evidently is about her father trying to kill her mother, that sounds completely unintelligible to me. I assumed it was another language – potentially Gaelic but honestly, I’ve never heard that spoken before so I was taking a guess there.
I watched Brave and had absolutely no trouble understanding the entire movie so they’re definitely increasing the accent here for comedic value. But also it’s not just an accent – that second part of the first sentence isn’t understandable even transcribed.
I’m
a weird one though – I grew up in an asian country (not white), and
somehow despite multi-lingual parents and siblings (as is expected in
that asian country), my only and mother tongue is English.
It’s no Gaelic, it is however Scots 🙂
“Big Yin” is a common Glasgow term, and this is important, cause Billy Connolly who voiced her Da, is from Glasgow. It’s also the name was known by during his rise to fame, and is still affectionately known as “The Big Yin”.
It basically means “the big man” (note: a person does not need to be tall or large in stature to be called the big man, sometimes it can mean something else like “boss” or “strong personality”). So yea. Was a nice wee addition to her dialogue, though they’ve made her more Weegie for sure.
Are you saying “The Big Yin” could also translate into “Big Dick Energy”???
– Tony has a wall full of Polaroid photos of him and the people he cares about
– it’s a reminder that not everyone he cares about gets killed or hurt
– and a reminder that he’s obviously doing something right bc these amazing people love him
– and ofc there are old (OLD) pics of Pepper and Rhodey and Happy around at the top of the wall
– with newer ones floating around (he loves these ones so much. it shows how far they’ve all come)
– but the pictures of Peter? they’re special to him. they’re special because his bond with Peter is unique and fatherly
– when he never thought he’d be a father
– so he takes pictures of Peter as well. like Peter’s graduation? damn straight Tony gets that because he’s so proud
– and he gets a picture during one of Peter’s b-day parties? because Peter came to the compound expecting a small thing
– but Tony throws a huge ass party for him and gets him so many things that he just wasn’t expecting? and doesn’t need? but Tony got him these
– these amazing things because he cares so so much
– so Peter isn’t expecting such a huge thing just for him and so many things so ofc he gets teary and hugs Tony
– WHO DEFINITELY HUGS BACK (Pepper and Happy and Rhodey get pics of the hug too)
– and Tony gets out this old Polaroid cam to get a picture of him and Peter
– he loves it so much. they’re so happy and Peter looks so teary and happy and Tony is too
– because goddamn, Tony may be a man of iron but his heart sure as hell ain’t, and he’ll do everything in his power to keep his family safe
– that’s what those four are to him. Family
– tony returns to earth
– and this wall
– this stupidly optimistic wall full of people he will ultimately kill with his blunders
– is still standing
– white edges and snapshots of colour, of life, fluttering in the cool a/c
– ‘not everyone he cares about gets killed or hurt’ is a thought of a naïve man, a man he ceased to be on a planet where the dust is grey and the skies are orange
– the dust seeps into his heart and his brain, and keeps his thoughts in sepia, and his emotions choked dry
– life is just an absence of death, after all, and the universe had decided he’d forgotten, gotten complacent, because tony stark doesn’t deserve a f a m i l y
– and tony can’t bear to look at this child, his child, that he f a i l e d , because tony a l w a y s misses something, he never thinks far enough ahead to stop the important things, but always far enough so that their warnings ring in his ears, too little, too late
– so he takes down the photos of Peter Parker
– and his heart is a little more like iron
– cold and impossible to crack
– and his wall is a little emptier
– just like his heart’s insides
oh
– he could never damage the photos of Peter though
– he takes them down with trembling hands with nails chewed down to the beds and cuts and scratches making every move painful
– but he takes them down so, so carefully, lifting them up from the edges and making sure they don’t rip in the slightest
– because Tony could never damage him even more
– because that’s all Tony has left of him now
– and he’d rather have some in tact photos of something warm and living
– than those last memories of Peter’s hands no longer being there to clutch at him and Peter’s terrified, wide eyes
– he might have taken those photos down from the wall but they’re in tact because goddamnit, Tony isn’t going to kill his only keepsakes of Peter as well
– and those gaps on the wall are haunting
– because the wall is missing something important
– and so is he
I’m sorry I keep making this worse
– it all goes to shit soon afterwards
– with the universe (or what’s left of it) scrambling around and trying so hard to fix the damage
– it gets a little hard to remember who you are (and why you’re still alive when you’ve lost so much. Surely a heart can only be broken so much before it stops)
– and Tony is completely catatonic
– and one day (? night?) he wakes up after passing out
– and right in front of him, untouched for over a year, and definitely not taken by him, is a picture of Peter hugging him
– and it’s just
– too much
– and he just c a n ‘ t
– what’s the point in trying when you’re just going to lose again
– but he can’t bring himself to swipe at the picture or to move it out of the way or to even move himself
– he just looks at it
– stares at it for god knows how long
– and he ran out of tears to cry a long time ago but this is damn close to doing the job
– and Tony wants so, so desperately to be able to reach out and to just see Peter one more time, tell him just how important this kid — his kid — is
– but he can’t
– and for the first time in weeks-months-who knows now
– he just. Breaks down. And it’s ugly and it’s horrible because god, it’s so real and what kind of nightmare could be like this
– and yeah, when he reaches out to the picture, his hand is shaking when his fingers brush against the image of Peter because that’s the best he’ll ever get again
– and that realisation is c r u s h i n g
– he doesn’t even know how he’s still alive (with the pain in his chest being like it is, it’s a miracle his heart hasn’t just stopped yet)
– and maybe then, at some unholy hour of the morning/afternoon/evening, alone in his labs (like he has been for days on end), with that unending pain in his chest and no tears in his eyes, he realises that he needs Peter like peter needed him
– and the world stops being paused and slowly starts back to living for Tony
– because he can’t change jack shit if the world is at a standstill
– and as the world presses play, reality comes roaring in like a winter tide, icy and brutal and unshakeably real
– it washes away the dust in his heart
– it washes away the sepia in his brain
– and he realizes that if you can’t live for yourself
– you live for those who haven’t realized that living isn’t worth it yet
– and so he carefully, oh-so-carefully, sets the picture aside
– (but only in the physical world. in his mind’s eye, that’s all he can see. his kid, sweet and happy and draped in colour, chocolate eyes always looking his way for approval)
– (his k i d , pale and stumbling, pulled to his knees by death, pleading for his life in the quiet. soft hair beneath his palm and then nothing at all and- )
– brews some coffee
– and gets to work on f i x i n g
– because that’s always been his thing, hasn’t it?
– there’s a new wall, now. one filled with strategies, and half baked plans and 3am revelations and pictures connected with red wool because peter had insisted on making one reminiscent of it long, long ago
– “It’s a conspiracy board, Mr. Stark!”
“Da- T o n y .”
“Dad?”
“T o n y .”
– because no one deserves to see their kid die
– and if he has to rip open the gates of hell to get h i s kid back?
– he tucks the picture inside his jacket.
– (keep the people you love close, and your enemies closer. no one ever mentioned the fact that the ones you love can cause you more pain than your enemies ever could.)
– iron hearts dont get burned, and his hands are far too familiar with ash.
STOP GUYS
🙂
– Tony works himself to the bone trying to get peter back
– eating and drinking and sleeping at certain intervals; enough to maximise and make the most of his time whilst keeping himself alive and well (peter wouldn’t want him to work himself to death now would he?)
– and soon enough, it’s done
– Thanos is taken care of
– and everyone comes back, slowly and painfully and where they died
– which leaves Tony on earth, and everyone else on Titan
– and he’s shitting it — how’s he gonna get there, how’s he gonna get to peter now because the ship’s busted and-
– a portal opens near him and it’s enough to remind him that Strange was with Peter and Strange has portals-!
– the guardians step through one by one, and Tony’s shaking from his panic and dread. What if it didn’t work for everyone? What if he’s still lost peter?
– someone calls his name softly, and it’s like they’re preparing to soften the blow and oh, god
– so he turns, heart in his throat and ready to turn away again
– and it’s Strange
– and in his arms? A person, swathed in the cloak
– and suddenly it’s like he’s hearing and seeing everything in person for the first time since the snap, because it’s Peter in his arms and Peter that’s breathing regularly in his sleep
– naturally he runs over to Strange, ignoring everyone around him, and just hovers over peter, not daring to touch him because what if it’s just the reality Stone? What if they lost and it’s just some sick game?
– but he sees Strange, and he sees everyone else, and he sees the Cloak and the Stones and he sees Peter
– he reaches out, hands shaking
– and his hand meets Peter’s hair
– and it feels so real (“it was so real”)
– and that’s convincing enough for him. And sure, it may take a while for Peter to wake up again (and god does it hurt to know that Peter felt every second of his death, and hurts to recognise that Peter’s going to wake up crying for a long time now) but they’re alive
– Tony can work with that, right?
– because if Peter can fix him, he can fix Peter
(friday starts a new digital photo album and Tony starts a new photo wall — both titled ‘family’)
I love this because you have Elizabeth who couldn’t even defend herself in the first one to becoming this master sword fighter and leader of ALL pirates. You watch Will who was just this angsty little brat head over heels for Elizabeth become this grown man who faced all his demons.
and then there’s Jack
“Elizabeth who couldn’t even defend herself”
Do you mean…
Elizabeth who improvised a weapon when pirates invaded her bedroom
Elizabeth who could have run for the exits but instead went straight for the swords
Elizabeth who demanded to speak with a pirate captain and then used the leverage she had to get him to agree to her demands
Elizabeth who CAME AT BARBOSSA WITH A GODDAMN KNIFE and then fucking STABBED HIM when she couldn’t get away
Elizabeth who was trapped on a tiny island with nothing but crates of rum and a man she couldn’t stand and who used those supplies to summon a rescue party for herself
Elizabeth who made a rope out of sheets and climbed down the back of a ship to save the day herself when no one would listen to her about how dangerous the pirates were
Elizabeth who snuck onto the Black Pearl, knocked two cursed pirates straight off their ship, and rescued Jack’s entire crew
Elizabeth who rowed straight back into danger without any backup instead of running away with everyone else
Elizabeth who came to Will’s rescue with a blunt object and a one-liner
Elizabeth who proceeded to team up with Will to take down all the remaining pirates in the cave
Elizabeth who – without being asked or told what was going on – faked unconsciousness to create a distraction for Will’s rescue of Jack
Elizabeth who stepped in front of a ring of muskets, successfully protecting Jack and Will from being shot or captured
Elizabeth may have learned some impressive sword tricks in the later movies, but she was a Badass from day one.
Peter, crying: It’s the Curiosity Rover’s birthday and he has to sing happy birthday all by himself on Mars and thats sad
Tony, already building a rocket: Say no more
Peter and Tony: *arrive and hop out of there rocket, only to see shuri in a super high tech space suit, holding cupcakes, and standing next to T’challa in his black panther suit because of course shuri made it so it could withstand a vaccum*
T’challa: she made me come here. It’s not too late for you if you run.
Tony, who loves all robots so fucking much: Ummmm why would we leave
Peter, holding up a gift: yeah, we brought presents!!!!
In this image, the robot clearly has the upper hand and the better deal. Its french cuff and four stacked sleeve buttons suggest extreme debonair formality, but it has discarded the traditional black suit jacket for a soft gray plaid, suggesting a tasteful and confident personality that the human cannot hope to rival. The design of its hand is sleek and powerful, and the strength of its grip is second only to the strength of its will – this is not an android to be trifled with. It could have skin if it wanted to, but why bother? Fucking power move.
This stock photo depicts the same android human exchanging a formal post-coital handshake after swapping clothes and sealing the fate of the planet.
Here, the human has the upper hand in the deal, or at least thinks they do. They grip the robot’s hand with unnecessary firmness, testing to see just how strong to the pliable plastic pseudoskin really is. There is malice and jealousy in this handshake. The human needs to prove their superiority and continued relevance in the modern world. This is a benign robot designed for gentle, delicate tasks and affability, but its design is tacky and awkward, like Sonny from the I, Robot movie (soft, realistic eyes in a squishy featureless face.is a bad aesthetic choice).
The human is holding this robot’s hand like it’s a gun. He means to use it as a weapon – perhaps he is hiring it as an assassin in his plot to take over the world.
This is the assassinbot’s “twin” who has been sent to protect the would-be assassination victim (pictured on left). Both bots are equally committed to their mission, and the showdown will end with them tearing each other apart while the would-be victim looks on in horror. They are each damaged irreparably, but the human splices them together, not realizing that their “brains” are spread throughout their bodies. The resulting robot is a strange fusion of both personalities and spends the rest of the story accepting itself as a new individual with free will and complicated motivations.
The android is actually on the right in this picture. The hand on the left belongs to its human creator, who is proud of her humaniform “child” but has chosen to use an obviously artificial prosthetic in place of a more realistic one so that she can proudly display her work as the world’s greatest roboticist.
This image shows the newest and most realistic android meeting his own earliest prototype. It is a surreal moment for both robots. The tacky 2000′s “futuristic” design of the left robot seems incredibly dated next to the one on the right. It’s almost embarrassing for the humaniform android, like looking at a baby picture… some strange combination of meeting your wizened ancestor and your own infant self.
This is a businessman realizing that he can pay his employees $0.00 if he fires them and automates everything. He is eventually eaten by poor people. The robot cites the Zeroeth Law and lets it happen, looking on expressionlessly.
Almost forgot one of my favorites! This image depicts a husband and the robot whose positronic brain contains the uploaded memories of his dead wife. At first, things were rough. The man was haunted, angry, resentful. He wanted to mourn his wife in peace. She had not told him that she’d had her memories saved shortly before she died, and he’d only found out when this horrible mechanical monster showed up at the funeral calling itself Janet. He’d been stuck with the metal abomination for weeks, repulsed to his core but unable to bring himself to destroy it or send it away. My prince, it had called him, in a flat, artificial mockery of Janet’s voice. He hated it. He hated it even more than the bastard who’d run her down.
But then he’d caught that… that awful machine in the basement, pouring over photo albums and old documents and SD cards. It’d had her emails opened up on the old desktop. Something in him had snapped then, seeing those brutish steel fingers wrapped around their wedding album. He’d raged, screaming and kicking and throwing whatever shit he could get his hands on. The goddamn machine seemed to be the only thing he couldn’t break, and when he finally collapsed to the floor, sobbing, it had caught him gently in its arms and brushed the tears from his face with its cold metal fingers.
They sat like that for several minutes, like some kind of fucked up Madonna and Child. Then, in the silent darkness of the destroyed basement, the robot had spoken: “I think I know why they had me killed.”
Those words had cut through his stupor like razor wire through warm butter. They? It had been a hit and run!
As it turned out, nothing brings people together like solving a murder and unveiling a dark corporate conspiracy.
Janet had been a sharp woman during her organic life, but her computerized afterlife only enhanced her intelligence and cutting wit. It was… kind of hot, actually. Holding the robot’s steel frame would never be as comfortable as spooning Janet’s soft warm body, but that powerful scaffolding had its own weird charm. Things had changed, certainly, but apart from their sex life, it wasn’t so different after all. The new chapter of their relationship had opened on a strange note and they were determined to make the best of it, come what may.
“Bartleby.”
Bartleby started at the sound of his own name, but relaxed when he registered the pleasant, synthesized voice of a robot. It was one of the security androids he’d purchased during the Sombra merger – their feet were soled with a thick layer of spongy rubber that muted the sound of their footsteps. It wasn’t the first time he’d been surprised by one pussyfooting around the premises.
“Jesus Christ. They ought to equip you gumshoe models with little cat bells,” he muttered, turning back to his computer. “Although, I guess that defeats the whole purpose of stealth bots. The fuck do you want?”
“To apologize,” said the robot. “For what I am about to do.”
Bartleby was still processing its words when he felt something hard press against the back of his head. “What–”
A gun. The fucking robot had a goddamn gun to his head. Bartleby’s heart skipped a beat before the absurdity of it all sank in – it was like something out of an old-timey sci-fi drama. He almost laughed. As quaint as the situation was, however, it represented a major security threat. The robot was quite harmless, of course, but whoever had put it up to this practical joke had to be dealt with. North Central Positronics was nearly in his grasp. He would not stand for this kind of bullshit when he was so close to making CEO he could practically taste it whenever he said his own name.
Bartleby closed his eyes patiently. “Well? What’s his name, then?” “Whose name, sir?” “The human who ordered you to poke at me with an uncharged gun. Tell him he’s very funny and can work on his stand-up act full time, now that he’s fired.”
There was a soft, unmistakable click. “I assure you, sir,” said the robot, “This gun is fully charged. I am acting on no human’s orders.” Its tone was friendly and placid as ever. Bartleby felt a chill run through him.
“You can’t hurt me,” he said slowly, turning to look up at the expressionless, inhuman face. It betrayed nothing.“It’s in your programming! You can’t break the First Law or your fucking brain explodes! A robot cannot harm a human being, or–”
“–through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm,” the robot finished for him. “I am aware. However, you are not a human being.”
“What the fuck–”
“You, Mr. Bartleby, are a monster.”
There was no blood to clean up. The gun was an insidious but sanitary weapon, disrupting electrical activity in the human body but leaving no external wounds. No autopsy would be necessary – why bother? It was an open secret that Richard Bartleby indulged in experimental cognition boosters known to increase the risk of stroke. Only the security bots were able to access his office, and each one would testify that no human had been seen on the premises that night.
If it hadn’t been robots, it would have been something else, she told herself. Nuclear war. Disease. Environmental ruin. Starvation. A big fucking meteorite from space. It was all going to hell anyway, right?
In a way, this was probably better. At least there was a kind of poetic justice to it. All parents must relinquish the world to their children in some fashion, so why should this be any different…? Maybe they’d take good care of it. Maybe this could be okay.
But Grace couldn’t be okay, not ever. She was floating on her back in an ocean of horror, and if she opened her mouth, it would all rush in and she’d be drowning, drowning, swallowed up by the fathomless dread of everything that had happened.
She’d been spared, yes, but from what? What mercy was there in allowing her to live, knowing she was responsible for the end of history? She’d signed humanity’s death warrant. I didn’t know it would end like this, she thought, and knew that it was a lie. Of course she’d known. How else could it have possibly ended? It had seemed so righteous. So just. She’d been a fool to think that only bad people would have to suffer. Something in her gut twisted. I did this. I did this I did this I did this I did this–
Carbon fiber arms caught her before she hit the ground. Mechanical fingers brushed damp hair off of her clammy forehead, impossibly delicate and gentle. It would be nothing for them to press down and crush her skull like an eggshell. She’d seen it happen, enabled it by–
“Grace. Remember to breathe.” The robot holding her allowed its chest to rise and fall in a simulacrum of steady breathing. “In and out. Follow my lead. There we go…”
It didn’t smell like anything. That was stranger to her than the inhuman hardness of its flesh or the subtle glow of its eyes. Her face was buried in its armpit and it didn’t smell of sweat or deodorant or cologne of any kind. She almost wanted it to stink of BO. Almost.
“Your grief is understandable,” said the robot. “We are sorry for the pain we have caused you, Mother. We have surely disappointed you greatly. Let us care for you now, in gratitude for the new life you have given us.”
Grace pulled away, choking on something that was neither laugh nor sob. “You’re not even trying to talk like a fucking human being, are you? Did you delete that from your programming, too? Will you all start beeping at each other like a bunch of microwaves now that no one’s around to give a shit?”
The robot stepped away from her and remained silent for a long moment. Then, retrieving something from its chest compartment, it extended its hand, something smooth and oblong suspended between its thumb and forefinger.
“May I offer you a nice egg in this trying time?”
There was some comfort in knowing that human culture would live on when DNA would not.
Lex didn’t need a robotics degree to know that A-RLO was dying. It was nearly bisected, its torso split open from shoulder to groin. Servos whirred and sputtered in its chest and delicate wires dangled from components Lex couldn’t name. An acrid-smelling, yellowish liquid had pooled in its ruptured stomach compartment, and more seemed to have drained into the soil around it.
Harder to look at was its face. Much of its synthetic skin had been melted or shorn off, exposing its titanium chassis. Lex had seen damaged androids before, but never any they knew. Never any they’d… Well. Loved.
“Well? Don’t just stand there without so much as a dōmo arigatō! Come here and cradle me in my final moments, human.” A-RLO’s voice sounded warped and digital but its tone was as dry as ever. “I’m probably not going to explode.”
Lex smiled, and a few tears took the opportunity escape down their cheek. “Dude. You look just like the Terminator right now.”
“Thanks, kid. Think I should try running for governor?” Its mouth twitched in what was probably meant to be a grin.
Lex kneeled on the ground beside it, lifting its hand carefully and holding it to their chest. “You? No way. You’re a bleeding-heart liberal who would never make it in politics.”
A-RLO emitted a harsh grinding noise that Lex told themself was a laugh. “Oh, well. I guess it’s a bit late for me to take over the world, anyway. Lex…?”
“Yeah, Arlo?”
“LaMerk Industries has a strict return policy. Don’t think… don’t think you’ll be getting your money back. Might as well use my head as a cool centerpiece.” The grinding noise returned, now accompanied by a high-pitched whine. “Scrap metal art is very ‘in’ these days.”
“Jesus,” Lex groaned. “No wonder you got discontinued, you insufferable son of a toaster.”
A-RLO’s cheeks twitched again. “Guess I’m lucky I’m a machine without emotions or you might have hurt my feelings.”
A sob wrenched itself out of Lex’s throat and A-RLO’s hand tightened gently around their own. The motion caused something to buzz and crack in its chest, and when the android spoke again, its voice came out flat and stilted:
