speculative fiction writers i am going to give you a really urgent piece of advice: don't say numbers. don't give your readers any numbers. how heavy is the sword? lots. how old is that city? plenty. how big is the fort? massive. how fast is the spaceship? not very, it's secondhand.
the minute you say a number your readers can check your math and you cannot do math better than your most autistic critic. i guarantee. don't let your readers do any math. when did something happen? awhile ago. how many bullets can that gun fire? trick question, it shoots lasers, and it shoots em HARD.
you are lying to people for fun. if you let them do math at you the lie collapses and it's no fun anymore.
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The zoo in my hometown posted this picture of one of their cheetah cubs and I'm obsessed
HIS NAME IS YAM ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDINF ME
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Christmas as a cultural icon is starting to get really dystopian in a climate sense, december has historically been a time of year in which there would be snow in a significant portion of europe and north america, and the fact that its not even icy this time of year and all the christmas songs and decorations reference a time of year that will likely never exist in the same way again in my life time is so strange.
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this is what every tiktok screenshot looks like to me
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i always think abt my cousin in greece who's like obsessed with american culture, bc ill say that im going to a barbecue and she'll be like "wow.... a real life american barbecue... will there be red cups?" you bet your ass there'll be red cups. take my hand. have a hot dog. all your dreams can come true here at the real life american barbecue
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Dragon harpy chimera birdy FALIN!! I love her
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y’all just— thinking about how excited Stanley must have been to host the twins— Alex says he smokes cigars but he doesn’t smoke once in the show— has a beer gut but he only drinks sodas in front of the kids— doesn’t swear when they’re around which must have taken INCREDIBLE effort— Stanley Pines, known crook, buying pancake mix at the supermarket and many bottles of syrup— learning to cook basic healthy meals and burning so many of them before he gets it right— buying new sheets, new mattresses— avoiding bunk beds because it reminds him of Ford— looking at the attic room he made wondering “is this enough will they like me”— trying to act aloof at the bus stop so he doesn’t betray the fact that he was there hours early— watching them goof around and thinking of New Jersey beaches— then the first night they’re there, he watches them debate running away and only stay because Mabel shook a magic 8 ball. That must have kept him awake all night.
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Hey all, you know how internet searches suck now? When the results are awful, full-of-AI, death-of-the-internet levels of bad?
Start appending date constraints to your searches - "before:2023".
My results have gone from 90% AI bullshit to ~60% usable - which frankly at this point is a huge improvement.
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