A queer creature with a pen | currently posting poetry on here, fanfiction on ao3, and tentatively eyeing the original novel I started last year. also posting nonsense everywhere
Grace and Rocky, giving a tour of the Hail Mary to fascinated Eridian scientists and diplomats.
Pointing at things and explaining what they are and how the ship works, lots of awed and appreciative noises are made.
Until one of the visiting Eridians points out a specific item. “And that?”
It’s a strange, circular thing, a xenonite disk mounted upright on some sort of pivot so it can spin freely, but around the edges it has… spokes? Pegs? Sticking out of it, that hit against a stiff flap that would slow down the spinning.
It is also separated into sections decorated with crude etchings of a human and an Eridian.
“Ah,” Grace says.
“That,” Rocky says.
“That’s. Um.” Grace seems somewhat embarrassed. “That’s the sacrifice wheel.”
The Eridian visitors clearly do not know what to make of that. “We think we misunderstood Savior Grace’s word,” they say, apparently hoping this is a vocabulary mix-up. “Explain (question, polite)?”
“Didn’t misunderstand,” says Rocky, sounding very sheepish. “That is sacrifice wheel.”
“So. While we were on our way to Erid, we might have gotten… anxious about each other’s well-being,” Grace says, which everyone is already very aware is a wild understatement. “And, well, you heard what happened at Tau Ceti, and after. There were a lot of unexpected dangers for the whole trip that required a lot of, at least, attempted self-sacrifice to solve. We ended up almost dying for each other several times. And we had an argument about what we’d do if another crisis like that came up. And we couldn't agree.”
“Grace argued that Grace already was unlikely to survive long-term on Erid, so he should be the one to do any potential deadly but necessary maneuvers to make sure I was able to bring taumoeba back,” Rocky says.
“Which made sense.”
“Did not make sense! Grace already sacrificed so much for me and for Erid, wouldn’t be fair to make you do it again—“ Rocky cuts himself off with a huff. They have obviously had this conversation before. “So sacrifice wheel was compromise.”
“Yeah,” Grace says. He spins it to demonstrate; it whirls around in a blur and a rattle of the flap hitting the pegs, then eventually slows down, and stops—pointing at the segment depicting a very bad but very clear image of an Eridian. “Rocky made the wheel, I spin the wheel, and whoever it lands on, that’s who gets to sacrifice themself to save the other and the other person does not get to argue. This way, we wouldn’t waste time debating who does the self-sacrifice and who survives, it’s just a plain fifty-fifty chance. Or, eighteen-eighteen chance in base six. But the point is it could be either of us and we would have to accept the outcome.”
Rocky started fidgeting while Grace was explaining. When Grace finishes, proud of the equitable solution they came up with to allow them to die for each other fairly, Rocky says, “Now that we are back and we don’t need sacrifice wheel anymore… I have confession to make. About the wheel.”
“What about the wheel?”
Rocky doesn’t answer. Grace frowns, first confused, then suspicious, and spins the wheel again.
It lands on Rocky again.
He spins the wheel again, and again, and again, and it lands on Rocky every single time.
“Rocky!”
“I weighted the wheel,” Rocky admits.
“Rocky the whole point was that it was equal, that was why we even made it—“
“Never was necessary so doesn’t matter anymore!”
“But you WOULD have!”
“And you never noticed because you were hungry and cranky and distracted and so would have done bad job on heroic self-sacrifice anyway!”
“I would not! I would have done fine!”
(The Eridian scientists and diplomats are still here watching this btw. Slowly dawning on them that 1) these two are extremely not normal about each other 2) if Erid ever does another space mission they NEED to send a therapist aboard because this is what happens when they don’t)
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still caring about internet friends you lost touch with years ago is so embarrassing. yeah i had a deam we met up irl recently. the last time we spoke was maybe 7-8 years ago. i still wear the laces we randomly decided was a sign of our friendship. i dont know what any of your socials are or if youre even active on any. sometimes i see someones art resemble yours and i wonder for hours. do you still go by that name you chose? whenever i see it i wonder if its you. we couldve passed each other in this vastness a thousand times and not have a clue.
I join the general public in thinking that the whole "Anne Boleyn climbs the ranks & is hoisted by her own petard" telling of the Tudor story has been overdone at this point. But there's so many just. Narrative twists to the Tudors in general that it's impossible not to find them interesting even though they have been done to death.
Like come on. Man is obsessed with getting a male heir, marries 6 times only for the most famous and successful monarch of his family by miles to be his daughter whose mother he had killed for birthing her and not a son. & also that daughter became the most famous and successful monarch of her family in part due to her decision to have the dynasty end with her and not pursue birthing an heir or having any husbands.
That's. Ridiculously ironic.
The first child he ever had that actually like. Drew breath. Was in fact a boy, Catherine of Aragon gave him a son and for 7 weeks everything seemed fine, & then the child died. Like a fucking portend.
The woman to actually give him a (surviving) son immediately dies.
This son, this son that two women died for, he doesn't die uncrowned, that wouldn't be particularly narratively juicy, no this precious little heir that Henry pinned all his hopes on does succeed his father... and then dies as a child without making really any meaningful contributions to the dynasty, certainly not in comparison to how his sisters shaped history.
Obsessed with his legacy and what he is known for is "divorced, beheaded, died. Divorced, beheaded, survived."
It's fascinating. It fits so well into a story about man's hubris. Like you couldn't write that and it's real history.
This is why Pride is not just a party. It's a joyful celebration, but it's also a pointed and colourful two-finger salute to a world that stood back whilst so many of us died. And we'll never go quietly, never again.
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aint it crazy how many people realize they're queer when they have the language to express how they feel and a support system to encourage self exploration????
right at the beginning when she's like how do I help my son feel loved and accepted I'm here shouting
"QUEEN YOU ALREADY DID THAT BY TAKING HIS SIDE AND LEAVING THAT NO GOOD HUSBAND FOR HAVING THE AUDACITY TO KICK YOUR BABY OUT!"
And Good for her! this is the only response to a man who kicks out a child.
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If you ever find yourself thinking "oh, I can't write this Cool But Impractical thing into my story, it's just not realistic", here are a few perfectly realistic reasons why people and even whole cultures would rather do something in an impractical way rather than the sensible one:
weird flex
religious reasons
religious weird flex (someone decided that they are So Religious that they consider the practical method Sinful, and people got competitive about it)
tax reasons (some ruler put a tax on doing something the sensible way and people started doing the impractical alternative as a legal loophole)
someone wildly powerful and popular preferred doing it that way, and everyone adapted to it in order to look cool
someone wildly unpopular suggested doing the practical thing, and everyone went out of their way to avoid doing that in order to not look uncool
it just genuinely never occurred to them that there is a better alternative, and their current method has been honed to perfection/adapted to the infrastructure so deeply that at this point altering it wouldn't be sensible
Gemini had the fucking GALL to get in my email and summarize a 3-line email, taking up more space than the email did visually.
Hit the “thumbs down.” It’s like, what’s wrong??? Was our summary wrong? Were there offensive words? Thank you for helping us improve our AI tools :)
I selected “other.”
Text box popped up. Please elaborate!
Wrote in “I can fucking read” submit comment
Then had to spend several minutes torching all my settings with a flamethrower. Let me be clear: I’m (a lawyer) notoriously picky with my words FOR GOOD REASON (lawyering) so I overwhelmingly reject Gmail’s “helpful” little assistance. My privacy settings were set to “full paranoia” a little less than a year ago when I saw the writing on the wall and knew public defenders could become a target in the future. Better to lock it all down now.
Gemini had crept in there and turned ALL that shit back on. And showed itself by saying “Jane Doe says she’s so sorry for your loss and offers to reschedule for Thursday at 3” over an email from Jane Doe saying “I’m so sorry for your loss. We could reschedule for Thursday at 3?”
Why would I possibly need this. In what universe would I need this. I have eyes and a brain and a reading speed that twenty years ago was measured at 1500 wpm with full comprehension on dense scientific text. Furthermore! If I read a summary, I’m not reading what they actually wrote. If I’m not reading what they actually wrote, I’m not using my own judgment on the words and phrases that they used.
I literally don’t understand why this is helpful at all. This is just avoidance. Using LLMs to write is specifically Not Writing. Using LLMs to summarize is Not Reading. Using them to make art is Avoiding Making Art. Just READ! Just WRITE! I was not put on this fucking planet to not read and not write and not make art! Avoidance is an anxiety symptom and indulging it gives it more power.
If I had an AI to do my most dreaded task, answer the phone for clients, I wouldn’t use it. Because an AI cannot help them. An AI cannot hear the facts of their case, make appropriate noises, be thoughtful and insightful, and then give them a realistic estimate of what could happen in court. I am unique. I cannot be replaced by machine learning. I have style. I have expertise. I don’t hallucinate unless I’m having a really great Friday night and I’m off the clock.
When I need to outsource tasks from my own brain, I give them to people I know can do them and that I trust to do them right.
Fuck, it just sneaks up on you, doesn’t it?? Goddamn Gemini jumpscare right in my own fucking email
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we need to discuss how in tampa shane hollander went to the pool just to lay on his deck chair and ogle ilya. this is shane hollander we're talking about. in february of a season. he's not even conceivably swimming laps or something he's literally just there to ogle. hedonist
