this is stupid btw, lunar he-3 is a scam and doesn't exist in any useful amount. you could produce more power by mining for fission fuel instead

"ai makes art accessible" is an argument i hate to my fucking bones. Art is EASILY accessible, I'd argue it's the cheapest most accessible hobby because all you need is a pen and paper.

"yeah but not everyone has skills" no everyone has the skill, you just need to put in the work

1/7 🧵

When you signed the contract with Pinnacle Transport & Logistics it was because it was the only thing hiring that could get you off-colony sooner than a year out. Mercenary companies were like that, high turnover for low to moderately skilled labor. It seemed like a good deal.

better horizons await. god willing we find them. or it finds us. may the smoke kill before the flames.

New year's resolution to post here more. maybe poetry or nature pics. maybe both

a neutron star in the year 120 trillion; in this future neutron stars have all cooled to only a few degrees above background temperatures, but they are still incredibly dense. these objects are very smooth and shiny, with splotches of dust from trillions of years of impacts

#b3d

a universe so old it's beginning to rot

#art

born as dust clinging together. molded by morning's dew. a first breath in open air then smog flocked kilns. peering in and peering out. hardened and cut to fit. sooner return to ash than experience such cocooning. heaven's ley as dust. born. alive.

I've had to explain this to folks a lot so here's a post.

IF my profile pic/header is blurry or invisible for you that means you still have some adult content filters on.

Go to your settings> moderation> content filters

THEN, scroll down a bit to "Advanced".

There are extra ones hidden in there.

weeping on the riverbed again. washed my sins clean. scarred from burning kismet in my soul. our love begots the whip. pedals catch my tears. their nature understands. were the kindness of the flower on man. our love blooms likewise.

A lucky hit, impossible odds with how fast the mech was dodging, diving, sliding around the battlefield. A clean entry straight through a sensor pod, down into the armor beneath it at such a perfect angle it takes you a precious second to realize that it it didn't ricochet away.

waltzing in the forest with nothing barring our connection. moss between our toes and mushrooms in our bags. craving nothing but the next stone to uncover. never caring for the leaves we trample. beasts through the forest. we are content. as is the forest. alive and living as one.

those who make their own mirrors of warped sand. seek to string me as a puppet. the hills I loved have scorned me again. they would rather be littered with the corpses of mothers to be. what am i. to turn to. to become.

it will all be better. later. it will all be worth the pain. i am punished for loving. caring for the weeping flowers in my neighbors garden.