Mark kicking my door down: HEY GUYS DID YOU NOTICE IM PLAYING HORROR GAMES LATELY AND IM PLANNING A DARKIPLIER SKIT me: yes Mark I am aware Mark: OK JUST IN CASE YOU DIDN’T KNOW IM GONNA JUST KEEP MENTIONING HIM AND MAKE ALOT OF WEIRD THUMBNAILS AND EDITS OK? DID YOU GUYS GUESS WHAT IM DOING? me: yes Mark we are aware Mark: OK COOL Mark:… HEY–
I looked it up out of excitement; it’s called “ili”, and it was created by a Japanese company called Logbar.
It costs $249. It supports English, Spanish, Japanese, and Mandarin (for now). It comes with one language, but new languages can be added with updates.
General sales will begin this November, but you can join their waitlist/ learn more information here on their website: https://iamili.com/
Humans as Aliens Prompt: Need for Physical Contact
“May I sit with you?”
She looked up. Not very far, for the human standing before her was quite short.
“Of course. Are you calmed, Robin?” she asked the human. Robin nodded, taking the seat next to her.
“I’m fine, Yano. Just shaken, you know?” Robin responded, running a hand through her thick, curly hair.
“Shaken?” asked Yano, and Robin chided herself, for Yano was of the Traanan race, who had difficulty understanding nonliteral speech.
“Um, just like… still a little scared.”
“Why are you still scared? Though the event must have been frightening at the time, the criminal has since been detained and therefore cannot harm you.”
Robin rubbed her eyes, and sat back on the couch, sighing into the perpetually warm Q’tslrian silk. She held out her arm, and Yano’s ears perked as she watched Robin’s fingers tremble.
“I can’t make it stop. I keep thinking about how close it was,” she said, pulling her hand back and clenching her fists.
“The sudden realization of one’s mortality in such a violent manner must have been quite shocking. Especially since it would have been a senseless murder. Your low status as a security officer would have made your death meaningless,” conceded Yano.
“Thanks,” Robin deadpanned.
“I hope my words have helped you,” said Yano kindly.
Robin laughed, leaning back and closing her eyes. “I think I just need a good nap.”
“Then by all means, nap if it will help you.”
Robin pulled her feet onto the couch, and leaned her head on Yano’s arm. Yano’s ears perked again, having seen the humans assume such a position with one another, but only after great trust has been established, and never to another species.
“I have seen humans engage in this manner of physical contact before. May I ask what this accomplishes?”
Robin shrugged, indicating confusion and apathy. It was a strange gesture to feel against her arm.
“Humans are touchy. We just like to keep one another close.”
The term close did not make much sense in this context, Yano noted, as Robin had used it to indicate both physical proximity and emotional connection. Human languages tended to have fewer words than other languages, especially the languages of Yano’s own home, which accounted for the necessity of extreme specificity. But human languages did something unique in the galaxy, whereby many of their words had double meanings by definition, and double meanings by context.
It made translating difficult, but Yano believed she understood, at least somewhat, as she put her arm around Robin’s shoulders, and the little alien sighed quietly, warm and heavy against her side.
It’s a breezy summer day and the rustling from the leaves outside sound like whispers from my small apartment. I’m sitting in front of my laptop, silently studying the 1.6 billion faces speaking simultaneously in front of me. It’s Monday, the day of the weekly conference call between all Muslims. We have been required to attend this Skype meeting from the the tender age of fetus, but I had never spoken in one of them before.
That changes today.
“Hey guys, what if…” I start to say.
Nobody hears me, but I refuse to be silent. How could I show my face again on Tumblr if I couldn’t even save my mayonnaise friends from death? How could I expect to earn their respect? Anon was right; why hadn’t I done this before? Thousands of lives had paid the price for my ignorance, but not anymore.
“What if you guys….. stopped killing people.“
Suddenly, silence.
1,643,398,023 pairs of eyes are on me. My heart is in my throat as the ISIS leader gives me a blank expression.
A single tear rolls down my cheek. "Please.” I say with a broken voice.
He is moved.
“Aight”.
My fingers are almost shaking as I carefully type in the ten digit phone number I have had memorized my entire life. The buttons on my home phone seem to glow a bit more dull, and even the ringing of the phone from the other end seems to be agonized, almost as if the world is telling me to hang up. But I refuse to give up; I can’t let my white lily friends down. Not again.
The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. Still no answer. Just as I am about to hang up, there is a click.
All I can hear is heavy breathing.
“Hello….” I say quietly, my voice shaking. “Is….. Is this Muslim?”
There was a long silence before I heard a voice answer “ya lol”.
“I was thinking………..” I begin cautiously. “Maybe murder is…………bad.”
“Habibi, I…..I don’t understand. What are you trying to say….?” The voice seems shaken.
“What if…….world peace is good and killing people is…………not good”
He lets out an audible gasp. “Are you saying ISIS is…….bad?”
“Maybe death is…….not good.” I continue. My heart is racing. I remind myself that I am saving thousands of lives, and inhale.
The silence from the other end of the line is almost deafening. He seemed to be thinking, as if he had never considered this idea before in his life. Truly I had opened his heart and his mind. This…. This could end terrorism.
“Muslim….Please.” I whisper.
I hear a tear roll down his cheek, with my Muslim Communication Hearing™ and hold my breath as he finally breathes out his next words.
furry firefighter (they’re wearing a fire fighter uniform over a dalmation fursuit): *picks up the hose* OwO what’s this?? *sprays it at a burning building* :3!!!!
i dont get offended at white people jokes even though im white because:
i can recognize white people as a whole have systemically oppressed POC in america, which is where i live
most people when they make white people jokes only mean the shitty white people and i am not a shitty white person
im not a pissbaby
my white friends that have reblogged this give me life
4. Sometimes I am a shitty white person and the jokes remind me to FUCKIN STOP
If ur white and like this post I fux with u
^absolutely
5. It’s hard to be offended when white people jokes involve bland food/tourist dads in socks and sandals/white girls in yoga pants obsessed with pumpkin spice/suburban PTA moms and other harmless and mostly true stereotypes while jokes about POC involve them being called thugs/criminals/slurs/uneducated/illegal immigrants.
i fucks with u heavy if ur white and you reblog this
6. They’re usually really fucking funny and don’t perpetuate stereotypes that will ever affect me economically, politically, or cause me any true harm, let alone create risks that “justify” my murder and/or death
A Glitch Named Anti 