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Source Code (2011) is actually the closest we have to a movie version of Permutation City by Greg Egan, which is a crazy thing to say but seems undeniably true
also works as an American horror story that if you’re foolish enough to take the train to work you’ll be blown up repeatedly until you realise the error of your ways
Source Code (2011) is actually the closest we have to a movie version of Permutation City by Greg Egan, which is a crazy thing to say but seems undeniably true
also works as an American horror story that if you’re foolish enough to take the train to work you’ll be blown up repeatedly until you realise the error of your ways
Proto-Indo-European phonology is second nature to us Indo-Europeanists that it's easy to forget that the average person proboably only knows about the rarity of Indo-European *b
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Cosmic horror story about the protagonist being driven mad by having forbidden knowledge seared into their mind in which it gradually becomes clear that the protagonist is a housecat and the terrible gnosis that renders even their most familiar intimacies alien to them is the ability to do first grade math.
They have difficulty functioning in their daily life because they're constantly seeing maddening patterns beyond mundane perception, but those patterns are merely the product of being able to count higher than three. All forgetting to eat as they obsessively count the pieces of dry kibble in their bowl.
Not a scholar at first, but the guy who wrote Jaws hated that people used it to justify hating sharks so much he dedicated the rest of his life to shark research and advocacy.
(afaik- the woman who popularized gender reveals did so because she had a long history of miscarriages. The reveal was a celebration of the fact that one of her pregnancies had gotten far enough that there WAS a physical sex to reveal. It was never intended to be like... *gestures at modern gender reveals* all that. That same kid later came out as trans and yes, the family had a second gender reveal for that lol.)
L. David Mech, who popularised the idea that there were 'alpha' and 'beta' wolves in his 1970 book The Wolf, has spent the rest of his career trying to debunk this. (The original studies were done on captive wolves, and thus didn't simulate an accurate model of wolf pack dynamics.)
The idea that wolf packs are led by a merciless dictator, or alpha wolf, comes from old studies of captive wolves. In the wild, wolf packs a
In the wild, researchers have found that most wolf packs are simply families, led by a breeding pair, and bloody duels for supremacy are rare.
“What would be the value of calling a human father the alpha male?” says L. David Mech, a senior research scientist at the U.S. Geological Survey, who has studied wolf packs in the wild for decades. “He’s just the father of the family. And that’s exactly the way it is with wolves.”
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I am too fearful of the night to ever really uncomplicately love the stars
which sounds sad but if you think about it, that's not all bad; it adds excitement and thrill, which I think has real value even though I recognize that's fueled by motivated reasoning, plus probably it almost certainly heightens my perception of how great the stars are, by contrast,
A slightly redrawn and edited version of the Dream Library stack (version 3 if you’re counting).
Since I first drew this, my first wish has come true with the final Book of Dust novel having come out (not what I expected, but I liked it)! Which would you most want if you could pick one?
(Currently part of a half price print sale on my shop!)
crazy to see "I can't believe these young scholars let the homunculus do their homework" coming from wizards who I know copied all their spells from Sparikus's Commentaries on old grimoires when they were apprentices
My wards alert me that scribes keep adding annotations to my scroll saying that the homunculi are wrong sometimes. Of course they're wrong. If you don't have a use for bumbling, overeager, sycophantic, incompetent minions, how can you even call yourself a mage?
Commentaries also seem to be circulating widely-disproven ideas about the homunculi's mana consumption. Dude like half of the top artificers think the homunculi are going to try to kill us in our sleep and extract our souls for conjuring ink. We don't need to make up reasons to be distrustful of the treacherous and deceitful minions
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Marcus stopped abruptly in the middle of the grass. A woman in a blue dress was already sitting on the Crisis Bench. He didn’t recognize the dress. She looked up from where she was sitting.
“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands. “I didn’t think anyone would be over here.” He didn’t think he remembered an introduction to anyone in that dress. It was a memorable sort of a dress. “I believe I ran into your mother inside?” he ventured, because he ran into so many mothers.
“She’s not here,” she said, which was not what he wanted to hear and which he absolutely could not handle at the moment.
“Right,” he said, trying to recover, pretending as if he’d just remembered something. “Your father–”
“We haven’t met,” she interrupted. “I’m not anyone.”
“Oh thank god,” he said, abandoning propriety to collapse onto the bench, dropping his head between his knees. “Thank you.”
“Too many people?” she said sympathetically.
“I’m really bad with faces,” he admitted.
“A lot of people are,” she assured him.
He dragged his hands down his face. “I just confused a Duke with a waiter.”
She bit her lip. “As long as you aren’t rude to waiters, you should be fine,” she said.
“I wasn’t rude,” he said. “I’m never rude. It would have been better if I was rude.” He buried his face in his hands. “I tipped him,” he said, anguished, muffled by his palms. Why had he been dressed like a waiter?
She burst out laughing, loud and with her head tipped back, overwhelming the empty garden. He separated his fingers to stare at her.
“Sorry,” she hiccuped, which immediately descended back into snorts. She laughed like she was hunting for truffles.
“Thanks,” he said, though he almost did feel better. “I’m feeling very supported in my time of need.”
“There’s only one thing you can do,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes, trying to dab at them to not destroy her makeup. Reflexively, he offered her a handkerchief, which she accepted. “You have to flee the country. It’s the only way.” She checked the handkerchief for signs of smeared eyeliner. “Leave your family. Change your name. Get a new family. Never tell them your dark secret.”
“I think my old family might notice if I got a new family,” he said, now resting his chin in his hands, elbows balanced on his knees.
“That’s why you have to burn your house down,” she said matter-of-factly, now holding his handkerchief in a neat fold in her lap. “Just burn the whole thing. Everything but your favorite hat. You leave the hat on top of the ashes for your family to find. ‘This must be him’ they’ll say. 'He would never have left his favorite hat’. It’s the perfect crime. Once it’s done, you become a pig farmer. Anyone comes around asking questions, you feed them to the pigs.”
“You seem like you’ve put a lot of thought into this,” he observed. “How are your pigs?”
She looked him over sidelong. “Hungry,” she said primly.
I do think it's kind of funny when plot summaries are like "character A encounters the last person they expected...their ex." Idk about you guys I'd be less surprised if my new coworker/roommate/random dance partner was my ex than I would if it was, like, Megawati Sukarnoputri the first woman president of Indonesia.
Any of my exes could plausibly attend the same conference as me. But I'd be really surprised to encounter former US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice
This poll is ambiguous if you (a) Don't have an ex or (b) Are Egyptian diplomat Hassan Gamal Ahmad Hassan, whose marriage to Megawati Sukarnoputri was anulled in 1972.
kianamaiart
turnnoffyourmind
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