slippery bastards for WIP Wednesday if the wifi/anti-writing gods show mercy on you
"So, want me to help you with that?"
Aziraphale's hand stopped halfway towards another oyster. He managed to look both embarassed and flattered at once, and bashfully stroked his fingertips along the softened edge of an oyster shell. His voice, directed at the very same mollusk residing in the shell, was carefully unaffected.
"Oh, you would do that?"
Crowley waved a hand around. "I mean sure, the place is full with people all too willing to get with you. I can sense lust, you know. You're been gobbling up oysters like a madman. So..." Crowley cleared his throat. If he didn't know better, which he certainly did not, because he did not know him all that well, in the end, if you thought about it, did he, they'd only just met a handful of times, really, so... but if he didn't know better, Crowley was doing his best to look carefree. But the muscles in his neck were strained, and he swallowed uneasily, despite not having imbibed a single oyster yet. " ...take your pick. I can be your... eh, wingman. Get it, because of the wings. I can be your winged being."
Aziraphale's face fell.
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@nomaiel your dynamis was off at applebee’s (i cant take credit for this joke. i stole it. from twitter)
Soul meet soul, aether meet aether, monster-to-be meet monster-who-is, there’s all sorts of descriptors to be used in this situation, but none to articulate the pit in his belly that opens up when the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. It’s just for an instant, but Hermes sees all his future deeds and horrors, and he is terrified.
The ancient stands slack-jawed staring at the other who shares his soul / this version of him that he cannot identify with. Or so he says, wanting desperately to believe there isn’t a buried part of him that cries out with joy at finally--FINALLY--being seen. A sick twisted form of catharsis, maybe, if he dwells on it long enough but -- no. No!! NO.
One tear falls from his right eye.
“Please,” polite until the end, not knowing how to be anything else, and he will break for it, “This can’t be happening.”
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I love it when people use "shrimp" to mean "beyond the human range". like "shrimp colors" but applied to other things. "shrimp emotions" "shrimp sounds" "shrimp morality", as if shrimp are living some kind of transcendent existence that humans can never comprehend
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pro-AI in the sense of "they taught a bread scanning computer to recognize cancer cells" etc etc
against AI in the sense of "we stole artwork from hundreds to thousands of artists, didn't credit them and didn't financially compensate them"
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hold on. Was suck him good and hard through his jorts supposed to conjour the image of someone who has an unzipped fly because this entire time I've been imagining someone slurping on wet denim
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he can infodump so deep inside me I'll have trivia running down my leg
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I hate how acknowledging unfairness in the world is seen as "childish". Maybe children are right. I don't think you should be proud of the fact that you've become complacent with the state of your miserable existence and took on this loser "it is what it is" mentality. Things can be better.
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I low-key love the fact that sci-fi has so conditioned us to expect to be hanging out with a bunch of cool space aliens, that legitimate, actual scientists keep proposing the most bizarre, three-blunts-into-the-rotation "theories" to explain the fact we're not.
Some of my favourites include:
Zoo Theory: What if there are loads of aliens out there, but they're not talking to us because of the Prime Directive from Star Trek? (Or because they're doing experiments on us???)
Dark Forest Theory: What if there are loads of aliens out there, but they all hate us and each other so they're all just waiting with a shotgun pointed at the door, ready to open fire on anything that moves?
Planetarium Theory: What if there's at least one alien with mastery over light and matter that's just making it seem to us that the universe is empty to us as, like, a joke?
Berserker Theory: What if there were loads of aliens, but one of them made infinite killer robots that murdered everyone and are coming for us next?!!
Like, the universe is at least 13,700,000,000 years old and 46,000,000,000 light years big. We have had the ability to transmit and receive signals for, what, 100 years, and our signals have so far travelled 200 light years?
The fact is biological life almost certainly has, does, or will develop elsewhere in the universe, and it's not impossible that a tiny amount of it has, does, or will develop in a way that we would understand as "intelligent". But, like, we're realistically never going to know because of the scale of the things involved.
So I'm proposing my own hypothesis. I call it the "Fool in a Field" hypothesis. It goes like this:
Humanity is a guy standing in the middle of a field at midnight. It's pitch black, he can't move, and he's been standing there for ages. He's just had the thought to swing his arms. He swings one of his arms, once, and does not hit another person. "Oh no!" He says. "Robots have killed them all!"
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