I want the next YA scifi/fantasy trend to be dragon / other animal companion soulbonding but with AIs
There’s some of this already – telepathic captain and starship fic – but there should be more! more teen-and-their-AI-companion novels! more lone AIs who’ve had no human companion for ages finally falling for the spirited, honorable human protagonist and bonding with them!
Tags:
#so like Project Freelancer but without the horrible trauma? #sounds like fun #story ideas I will never write #AIs
“It was acceptable. I understand he was irritated by my precise recitation of the length of time since we had seen each other, during the small talk phase.”
“Hmm. You might try being less precise? Or suggest some uncertainty in your estimation? Like, ‘Five years, more or less,’ that sort of thing?”
“I have attempted such artifice in the past, yes, with Captain Jackson of the USS Ranger.”
“Was that any good?”
“It took me three days to convince them that I was not an impostor and that I should be released from the brig.”
Send him to the brig, he didn’t say how many minutes they locked him up.
Tags:
#oh look an update #Star Trek #DS9 #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog
(from “the secret life of bletchley park” by sinclair mckay)
Tags:
#history #World War II #I didn’t actually laugh aloud but it still amused me enough to reblog #fun with loopholes #(…does that loophole actually work though?) #(just because you don’t *understand* something doesn’t mean it’s not *true*)
The way the metaphor works, you’re being lowered into the water (symbolizing a grave) and being raised (resurrected) as a new creation free of sin. (Symbolically. More literally, the “free of sin” bit lasts about 0.4 seconds until you have your first conscious thought, and then you probably need more sanctification.) The question nobody ever seems to ask is, what happens to the sin afterward?
I mean, that water ought to be downright toxic. Original sin is a big deal, and in most denominations they don’t even try to dispose of the waste safely. In fact, the pastor is often standing in it the whole time.
If you haven’t seen the sort of baptism service I’m familiar with, it involves a bathtublike container maybe a third the size of a Jacuzzi, with a church leader doing serial baptizing. Any Christian can baptize someone, but usually it’s one of the ranking people in the church. Catholics probably bless the water first (it’d be weird if their religion includes holy water and they don’t use it for this) but in most denominations holy water isn’t really a thing. So there’s no confounding variable from that direction; it’s just water plus enough of humankind’s innately fallen sin nature to damn someone to Hell a couple dozen times over. And the pastor, along with whoever goes last, is standing in it.
But that very fact tells us it’s not all that dangerous. Concentrated evil sounds scary, but apparently a normal mustard-seed-sized amount of faith can protect people from it.
There’s a ritual described in Leviticus 16. On the Day of Atonement, the High Priest places all the sins of the Israelites onto a goat (hence our word “scapegoat”), and then sets it loose in the wilderness. The population at the time was a bit over 600,000 (source: the for once incredibly convenient Book of Numbers). So we just have to find that goat (we can use my time machine), make it more intelligent until it’s capable of becoming a Christian, and baptize it. From a safe distance. Because seriously, that much concentrated evil is probably radioactive or something. We’re talking the sins of a nation here; this is a decent fraction of the stuff that motivates prophecies of Armageddon.
Sacrifices aren’t really a thing anymore. If I remember right, the branch of Judaism that eventually became the current one hasn’t done animal sacrifices since the destruction of the Temple back in ‘70. (The apostrophe stands for “A.D. ”) I don’t know how many Jews have lived in the last 1945 years, but it’s a lot. That many person-years worth of sin is going to mean one seriously scaped goat.
So that means, you just have to find the Ark of the Covenant, reconstruct the Most Holy Place, and get whoever’s in charge of the tribe of Levi these days to do the ritual. No time machine required. Then kidnap the goat, convert it to Christianity, and do the other ritual. The new convert rises as a new creation free of sin (in the process thoroughly messing up the parable of the sheep and the goats) and you’ve got a bathtub metaphorically full of more evil than has been seen in one place since the Crucifixion. Use it wisely.
And by “wisely” I do not mean point a squirt gun at the Pope.
WHEN LAST WE LEFT we were storing every sin committed since A.D. 70 by any Jew who was not also Christian inside a large bucket. It’s time to try more.
When you have an almost unprecedented amount of a thing, obviously you look for bonuses that stack. Several places in the Bible confirm that it’s possible to multiply sin (e.g., Isaiah here), but infuriatingly there’s no actual procedure stated for this.
The best I can find is a handful of lines from the Apocrypha, which is not canon depending on your denomination but is at least a really cool word. Sirach 3:11 says “they multiply sin who demean their mother,” which is nice and direct, but the person in question didn’t really have a mother. She was a literal goat, and probably not covered by any commands about respect for one’s elders. 23:11 says how to double a particular sin, but it only applies to oaths and doesn’t look very retroactive.
I think our best chance is in 23:16: “Two sorts of men multiply sin, and the third will bring wrath: a hot mind is as a burning fire, it will never be quenched till it be consumed…” The first one is more interesting than the second, so let’s stop there. I don’t actually know what it means by a “hot mind” but actively trying to increase the amount of extant sin had better qualify.
So after you kidnap/rescue the scapegoat and uplift it to human intelligence, convert them to Discordianism or something first instead of Christianity. Something that’ll want to go along with this. Allow the multiplication to do its thing. (The Book of Ecclesiasticus didn’t say what the sin gets multiplied by, but it’s large enough that it matters when it’s an individual doing the sinning, let alone a civilization.) Then you convert them, get them saved by grace through faith, and steal the water after their baptism. Put it in the chemtrails of jets flying over your least favorite nation or something. Have fun!
If you’re wondering what was that verse’s second sort of man who multiplies sin: “a fornicator in the body of his flesh will never cease till he hath kindled a fire.”
In other words, it is actually an available option to start with an apocalypse-causing amount of violations of the law of God—
—which has to be one of the most horrible, terrifying, EVIL things you could possibly think of—
and MULTIPLY it
by SEX.
BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE!
We’ve got two thousand years of accumulated sin so far, multiplied by an unknown but significant amount. Let’s exponentiate.
Everyone knows that God is a jealous god, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon their sons to the third and the fourth generation. And goats can have a lot of kids! If you have your super-evil goat start a new family line while still in its God-hating phase before being converted, we could be talking like 70,000+ sons. At this point it depends more on how many goats you can raise, ensoul, convince to maximize sin, and convert to Christianity than on anything hard like theology.
(Aside: Is the fathers and sons thing sexist? Not really. The word translated “sons” is really more of a gender-neutral “descendants,” and “fathers” mostly means “heads of families.” It comes across as “patriarch” because that’s what they had then. Since goat society is matriarchal, in Facts You Didn’t Know You Needed To Know, the genders would be swapped. But this doesn’t affect the plan here, so whatever.)
And of course, if you have enough missionary staff to reach each of the descendant goats, you can get the multiplications from mother-demeaning, hot-mind-having and/or fornicating in each generation. I’ve lost count of just how apocalyptically bad this is, but we’re in the ballpark of tens of billions of nation-years’ worth of sin? Got to be world-ending by now.
So does all this get you anything? I don’t know, maybe. You’ve got an evil leader with a large, even more evil herd, and in the Bible being a king means at least plot importance. (Don’t believe me? Look how many people are important only for being kings and not for anything that, you know, happens.) And there’s a relatively short jump from “king” to “god-king” to “god”: “king” (melech, M-L-K in a language without vowels) goes from Abimelechto Moloch, Melkor, mlekk, and former One Direction singer Zayn Malik.
One snag: when the ancestor-goat or anyone in an intermediate generation repents and turns to God, not only does their sin get wiped out but so does all their descendants’. Theoretically this expires after a thousand generations, but you’re not waiting that long. To maximize the amount of used sin, you need to convince them to repent and be baptized from the youngest on up. Remember to reuse the same water for all 70,000 baptisms if you want it concentrated.
(If you do reuse the same water, the newly repentant goats and whoever’s performing the baptism might wonder why they’re using a very specific airlocked chamber and wearing hazmat suits with separate air supply. You probably don’t want to tell them! Getting them to do it anyway is a logistical exercise left as an exercise to the reader.)
Also, the other problem. If any of the goats die before conversion, by accident or I guess murder since this is sort of the most evil population in history, it’s probably bad. You made sure to engineer them to be easily manipulable, but intelligent enough to be responsible for their sins and repentances. If they die with their and their ancestors’ sins on their head… eternity of torment. Not good.
And of course, the specificvariety of torment is a lake of fire. Which they’d go to because of the sin they inherited from their matriarch. Where sin-maximizing is exactly the thing she presides over. You would be boiling a young goat in its mother’s melech. Don’t do that.
harry potter 1: this cat is actually a teacher at hogwarts. solid beginning, pretty good work here. 7/10.
harry potter 2: this tree is actually a monster that’ll destroy your car, and this book is actually uhhhh a teenage boy’s ghost, but no animals. disappointing. 3/10.
harry potter 3: this evil dog is actually a man and your godfather. this large wolf is your year 9 teacher. that deer is your spirit from the future/past due to a time travel loop. your best friend’s pet is a war criminal. this is where we completely and totally peaked, folks. 11/10.
harry potter 4: this cup is actually a portkey and this man is actually a completely different man. the original man is locked in a trunk. nobody is a cat BUT rita skeeter is a beetle, and now she lives in a jar. 6/10
harry potter 5: uncertain how much tonks can become an animal, but even if she did it would just make her a furry, so 0/10.
harry potter 6: harry was far too busy being obsessed with draco this book to do anything else. harry wouldn’t have noticed if hedwig was actually morrissey. unrateable.
harry potter 7: in a horrifying twist of events, we have a person revealed to actually be an animal as Bathilda Bagshot turns out to be a giant fucking snake in a human costume. Who let that happen? Who cleared that? I need names and answers. -2/10
post-books information about nagini: no. -10/10
+1 for book 4, you forgot that Malfoy was briefly a ferret
i’m a fraud and a fool. harry potter 4: both a beetle AND a ferret. 8/10
Tags:
#Harry Potter #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #this probably deserves some warning tag but I am not sure what
[wakes up in a cold sweat] but what were the rations like during the Wars of the Jewels
“Hello friends, it’s Braddoc Meryhill back again with something TRULY INCREDIBLE that my wife’s second-cousin’s neighbor (the one with the gorgeous tomatoes) brought back from the post-house in Bree. I’ve been writing letters and digging through mathom-houses and making the acquaintances of many strange folk for many years, hoping to find someone who could get one of these for me, and I’d begun to lose hope that any still existed! But look! All my work has finally been rewarded!
What I have here is a genuine elvish ration from the First Age, still in its original wrapping and therefore still (theoretically) fit to eat. Now, they say that elves have a way of wrapping food in leaves that makes the contents last indefinitely, but six thousand years is a long time even for them! This might be the closest we’ll ever get to testing that theory, since “forever” isn’t quite measurable, but six thousand years… whoo boy! I still can’t quite believe I’m about to open, and then hopefully taste, a piece of ancient history! My hands are shaking.
I’ll guess that this was probably a Sindarin ration, since it’s wrapped in leaves and the Noldor usually used woven cloth for theirs, but later in that Age the Noldor picked up the leaf technique, so we won’t know for sure until we see what’s inside. I’ll just carefully tug at the little tab in this corner, and… oh! It just unfolds! How clever! To think that I’m the first person to do that since it was first packed! Incredible!
All right, let’s see what we have here:
There are two wafers of a sort of waybread, about eight inches square, and the leaves are wrapped around them so that the bread forms a sort of frame on either side for the other items. A ration sandwich, if you will. I imagine this was to make them easier to stack. It’s been knocked around a bit, so all the corners are crumbling off, but it smells all right to me.
Inside the bread we have four more little square leaf-packets. This first one has… oh, it opens into a little cup-shape, that’s delightful. Why, these look like… they’re grubs! Roasted and salted grubs, I think. Heavens, elves will eat just about anything! I happen to know, through my uncle’s neighbor whose grandmother once met some wood-elves, that little creepy-crawlers like this are still considered a very attractive and nutritious snack. The things I do for history’s sake, my friends.
In the second packet, we have what appears to be… raisins? I can’t tell, but if they are raisins, that would probably make this a Noldorin ration, since at this time the Sindar usually made wine out of honey and forest fruit instead of grapes. They’re still plump, and they smell just fine. The whole thing is just in beautiful condition.
This next packet just has a little powder in it? Let me smell. Oof, that’s strong. It smells very herbal, almost spicy. This must be a refreshing beverage, perhaps some sort of tea. You’ll remember when I opened that ration from the Last Alliance and found a small vial of miruvor? I wonder if the elves of the First Age had such rations as well. This particular ration does not. A pity, but I’m curious about this anyway. I’ll add a little water to it now.
Our last packet is—oh, it unfolds into a little bowl! I’ll never get bored of this ingenuity. There’s a little dried cake inside, and it crumbles between my fingers when I pinch it. It has a savory smell. I remember reading that the elves would carry soups and porridges in this form, so I’ll add a little water to it and see what happens.
That might take a minute to reconstitute, so in the meantime, a little context for those of you unfamiliar with elvish rations. This doesn’t look like much food—hardly even a quick second breakfast—but elves need very little compared to either hobbits or big folk. This ration could have lasted several days in lean times, but ideally an elf-warrior would consume a full ration every day they were on the march. In camp, they would communally prepare and eat fresh meals. Each warrior had a personal meal-kit with a little plate and utensils that folded up like a compact mirror—you can see mine in the case behind me. It’s very precious, so I don’t use it.
Oh, I just noticed that there’s steam coming from the beverage and the soup! That’s remarkable! They’ve formulated it so that it heats up when you add water to it! Wow! I’ve never seen anything like that before. I imagine it would be a great morale-booster in the field. Well, that must mean it’s ready, so let’s dig in. I’ll start with the drink.
Hmm. It is very strong indeed. I’m getting a hint of exotic spices and an earthy, roasty flavor… it must be coffee! It was said to be extremely beloved by the Noldor, and they traded for it through their ill-fated alliance with the Easterlings—incredible, just incredible, I’m holding not only a cup of history, but a cup of inter-kindred politics as well! That also gives us a better hint as to when this ration was made. It was likely made in preparation for what became known as the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the “Battle of Unnumbered Tears” in our tongue, to be carried by a member of the Union of Maedhros. If that is the case, it’s even more amazing that this ration survived at all. I could study nothing but its history for the rest of my life and still not know how it came out of Beleriand and into my hands.
This waybread seems like it would go well with the coffee. Ah, it does seem to be a little stale, but no worse than a loaf of ordinary bread exposed to the air for a day or so. Hmm. Very crunchy. Almost biscuit-like. Not much flavor, but it is packed with nuts and seeds. Definitely nutritious, if not very exciting. Ooh. It is much better when dipped in the coffee.
Moving along to the soup, since it seems to be fully moistened. And piping hot, I’ll never be over that. It doesn’t smell rancid, thankfully. Just like a thick, chickeny, vegetable-y stock, with some bits floating in it. It seems they threw a bit of everything into a pot, cooked the devil out of it, spread it out to dry, and then pressed it into cakes. It’s quite salty, but inoffensive. It doesn’t seem like much, but again, I’d imagine that a warrior on a winter campaign would welcome anything hot.
The raisins are definitely raisins, I’m sure. Wouldn’t be out of place in a scone at my tea table. Not much else to say about them, except that I’m astonished that they’re so fresh, just like the rest.
Well, my friends, I’ll admit that I’ve been dreading the grubs, but I won’t put it off any longer. It isn’t the way we do things, but surely the elves know what they’re about!
Oh dear. I can see their little legs. The things I do, friends. The things I do.
Euuurgh. It’s crunchy. I am picturing nothing but feelers and eyeballs.
Hm. Swallowing it took an extra try, but the whole experience was not as bad as I was anticipating. A bit like a salted pumpkin seed, with a little bit of a… hm… a buggy flavor is the only word for it. I’d better try another one to see if I can get a better perspective on it.
Hmm. They’re rather addictive. I’m still a bit repulsed, but I can’t stop eating them. I’d love to chat with an elf about this—for instance, I’d love to know how they got the idea in the first place. I know I wouldn’t just pick a bug off the ground and decide to eat it, but perhaps that’s just my hobbitish sensibilities speaking.
Well, we’ve come to the end of this ration, and I feel that I’ve closed a chapter of my own life. This is perhaps the oldest thing ever eaten by a mortal, and perhaps even by anyone! I can now say that I’ve put the claim of imperishable elvish food-storage techniques to the test, and I’d have to say that the rumors and tales are, if not proven, at least plausible. Yes! The elves really do wrap their rations in such a way that they keep fresh “forever”! That is unless I’ve been sold a counterfeit, in which case I shall take my golf-club and find the person responsible.
Thank you for all your kind and curious responses up to now! I’m not sure I’ll be able to surpass this First Age, Noldorin, Union of Maedhros army ration in the future, but I hope you will stick around to find out! As always, I remain your intrepid friend Braddoc Meryhill, unless this ration turns on me sometime in the night!”
Tags:
#Lord of the Rings #fanfic #food #and mostly as a warning tag: #in which Brin has a food poisoning phobia
“It was acceptable. I understand he was irritated by my precise recitation of the length of time since we had seen each other, during the small talk phase.”
“Hmm. You might try being less precise? Or suggest some uncertainty in your estimation? Like, ‘Five years, more or less,’ that sort of thing?”
“I have attempted such artifice in the past, yes, with Captain Jackson of the USS Ranger.”
“Was that any good?”
“It took me three days to convince them that I was not an impostor and that I should be released from the brig.”
Tags:
#Star Trek #DS9 #fanfic #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog
My entry for the RtB tabletop game jam is done! This is a game that exists for those of us who aren’t getting enough heinous villainy in their day-to-day, and need an opportunity to set pretend fires, commit pretend murders, and kidnap pretend orphans. Isn’t that what everyone really wants to do, deep down? Hunt down some orphans, murder the people protecting them, and abduct them in order to steal their exorbitant inheritance? Yes, is what I’ve decided the answer to that question is.
Tags:
#A Series of Unfortunate Events #games #interesting