zisdeadinside:

https://youtu.be/bOVmv107vkA

I love this so much

(via zisdeadinside-deactivated202012)

mostlysignssomeportents:

Dr danah boyd’s newly-minted PhD from UC Berkeley was awarded based on her fantastic thesis project, “Taken Out of Context: American Teen Sociality in Networked Publics.”  danah’s ground-breaking research on how kids (especially marginal kids) use the Internet has been featured here a lot – she was one of the contributors to Mimi Ito’s gigantic Digital Youth Project, and the attorneys general’s report on the relative absence of pedophiles online. I read about half of the thesis on Christmas break and I’ve been champing for the chance to blog it here – and now that it’s public, I can!

https://boingboing.net/2009/01/19/danah-boyds-phd-thes.html

mostlysignssomeportents:

Neil Gaiman says Edgar Allan Poe should be read aloud, and he’s right: he recorded this video of him reading “The Raven” in 2016 as part of Pat Rothfuss’s Worldbuilders charity drive. It’s Poe’s birthday today, and I can think of no better way to celebrate it than to listen to it again.

Other ways to celebrate this magnificent torch:

* The spectacular pop-up edition

* The 50s hipster argot edition

* The 1969 rock-and-roll version

* Vincent Price and Boris Karloff’s Raven-inspired magic duel

(Reposted from last year)

https://boingboing.net/2019/01/19/swing-hip-me-what-thy-tag-is.html

mostlysignssomeportents:

Shades of Milk and Honey is the hotly anticipated debut novel from Mary Robinette Kowal, who has already made a name for herself in science fiction with a series of outstanding short stories. It’s a Regency drawing-room romance, told in pitch-perfect style, with one important difference: these mannered and well-bred nobles are able to do magic. By conjuring “folds from the ether,” well-brought-up men and women are able to create optical illusions – or even breezes and smells – though such workings are quite exhausting and too much conjuring can leave the practicioner comatose, brain-damaged or dead.

Kowal’s lively romance tells the story of two grown sisters: Jane, a spinster at 28, is the ugly duckling of the family, but she makes up for her sallow skin and disharmonious features with her talents in genteel arts, from painting and pianoforte to conjuring up beautiful and vivid glamours using the ether. Her younger sister, Melody, is the family beauty, courted by men all around the Dorset countryside. Father is a warm but distant presence, while Mother is a bedridden neurasthenic hypochondriac who grasps and climbs the social ladder, hoping to ingratiate herself with the viscountess next door (and possibly marry Melody off to her nephew, a dashing captain in His Majesty’s Navy).

Shades of Milk and Honey does an incredibly cunning job of working magic into this well-worn scenario, breathing fresh life into the stifling mannerist drawing-rooms of these propriety-bound gentlemen and ladies without ever losing the authentic feel of a Regency love-story.

And this is a love-story and a rather glorious one at that. The suitors, belles, and chaperones dance around each other as the gravity-wells of a good heart, artistic talent, and physical beauty send them careening around, one against another.

Kowal’s first novel is a beautifully told story of being true: true to love, true to family, and true to art, even when it seems that one of them must give. It’s a marvellous and promising debut, and hints at more wonders to come.

Shades of Milk and Honey

https://boingboing.net/2010/08/02/shades-of-milk-and-h.html

gm-and-dm-ideas:

the-knights-who-say-book:

When the sorcerer found the dragon, it was attacking a grape.

This was only possible because the dragon was not much larger than a grape itself, but she still had to do a double take to be sure the object it was fighting with such animosity was in fact inanimate.

She crouched so that her eyes were level with the top of the table and squinted at it. The dragon sank its tiny fangs into the grape’s skin and gave a great tug, succeeding only in throwing it and the grape into a backwards tumble. The tiny green reptile rolled to a stop with its whole body wrapped around the grape and shook its head ferociously, managing to pull its teeth out but also launching the grape across the table. It gave a mighty roar of anger (about as loud as a human clearing their throat) and stalked after it, tail swishing dangerously.

“Do you need help?” she offered.

The dragon froze mid-prowl and whipped its head around to look at her, looking so offended she almost apologized for asking.

“I mean, I could peel it for you, if that’s the problem.” She wasn’t sure it was getting the message. One could never tell how much human language these little creatures picked up by hanging around the magic labs. Some understood only such essentials as “scat!” or “oh fuck, that sure did just explode”, while others could hold entire conversations — if they deigned to interact.

This one looked like it was deciding whether she was worthy. Finally, it sniffed daintily and flicked its tail, scales clacking together. “Little monster is my prey, and you can’t have it. Found it first. Will devour it!”

“Oh, sure,” she agreed. “But you know it’s a grape, right?”

This was the wrong thing to say. It glared at her and then bounded away to the other end of the table, where it slithered up to the grape and pounced on it.

Grape and dragon promptly rolled off the edge of the table.

The sorcerer quickly went around to that side, alarmed that it would be stepped on. The labs were bustling with shoppers stopping by to watch demonstrations this time of day, and a small dragon wouldn’t be easily visible on the blue and green tiled floor.

“Horrible! Dirty!” The tiny dragon was screeching at the top of its lungs, holding onto its prey for dear life. It would have been hard to hear anyway, with all the noise of the labs, but with the sorcerer’s diminished hearing it took several seconds to locate the screaming creature.

She scanned the pattern of the tiles for it and sighed. “Oh, hold on, we mopped this morning.” She cupped her hands around it and deposited it into her skirt pocket, an indignity the dragon endured only with more screaming.

“An outrage! Put me down!”

“Shh,” she advised. Lab workers were strongly discouraged from bringing creatures into the back rooms, which was where she was heading, picking her way through the crowded front lab.

“Fuck pockets!” her pocket responded.

“Oh, you can curse. Wonderful.”

The dragon seemed to take this as an actual compliment. “Am multitalented. Can also compose poetry.”

“Really? Can I hear some?”

“No. For dragon ears only.” It sounded viciously pleased to hold this over her head. The bulge in her pocket rearranged itself, and she thought it might be trying to gnaw on the grape.

She felt herself smiling even as she tried to squash her mouth into a straight line. She liked this little bad-tempered thing, even though its spiky feet were digging into her thigh.

In the much quieter kitchen of the back rooms behind the lab, she transferred the wriggling, scaly handful from her pocket to the table. The dragon hissed out a few more insults as it got up and straightened itself out, but its jaw fell open when it finally took in its surroundings. She’d set it down next to the fruit bowl.

“There you go. Food mountain.”

The dragon’s shock didn’t last long. Abandoning the grape, it scraped and scrabbled its way up the side of the bowl and from there onto an apple, its claws leaving tiny puncture marks as it hiked to the top of the arrangement. “Food mountain!” It repeated, its gleeful crowing much clearer and almost sing-song without having to compete with the noise of the crowd.

She watched it turn in a circle, surveying the feast. “But… cannot eat it all,” it observed after a while, crestfallen. “Human-sized. Big shame.”

“Don’t you have nest-mates who can help you with it?” she asked. She had assumed not, from the way it had apparently been foraging for food on its own, but she needed to be sure she’d found a loner.

“No nest. No mates. No nest-mates. You’re rude.” It flopped down ungracefully, wings spread out flat on the apple like it was trying to hug the entire much-larger fruit.

She gave it a moment to be dramatic, and then offered it the grape, minus the peel. “You seem to have a good grasp on human-speak.”

It grabbed the grape without so much as a thank you. “Yes. Have composed poetry in both Dragonese and Humanese. Not for humans to hear, though.” Bragging cheered it up a little.

“You mentioned. I can’t hear very well, anyway.” She pulled up a stool and sat down. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a helper.”

“An assistant,” it said, apparently showing off its Humanese. “An attendant. An aid.”

She watched it bury its snout in the grape, juice dribbling down onto the apple it sat on. “Yes. A hearing aid. How would you feel about having a job?”

It smiled craftily. “Would feel positively, if job comes with chocolate chips.”

“It could,” she said, grinning. She had some friends who employed bird-sized dragons as messengers, but this was the first time she’d heard of one negotiating its salary for itself. “It certainly could. What’s your name?”

“Peep,” said Peep. “It is self-explanatory.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.”

Peep expressed its doubt that humans ever got anything, but she thought the tiny, prickly creature might be warming up to her.

Somebody homebrew this little critter. NOW.

(via fortethebard)

derinthemadscientist:

unpretty:

unpretty:

unpretty:

unpretty:

there’s something really satisfying about the fact that sir arthur conan doyle was the most gullible motherfucker on the planet

sir arthur conan doyle: here is my oc, he is a super genius who solves all the mysteries using the power of deductive reasoning

also sir arthur conan doyle: i have deduced that these fairies are real as shit

sir arthur conan doyle: there’s only one way to determine if these fairies are real… i will give you girls these cameras, that i bought myself, and then i will develop the photos, so i know they haven’t been tampered with

some girls who took selfies in the woods with paper cutouts on hatpins: that seems reasonable

harry houdini, after showing his good friend how he got tricked by a con artist: so as you can see, anyone can make it seem as if they can talk to ghosts

sir arthur conan doyle: harry… i can’t believe you never told me you can talk to ghosts, for real, using actual magic

Doyle and Houdini’s relationship is the funniest thing in the entire history of the skepticism movement

Doyle was SO CONVINCED that Houdini had legit magic powers and could turn into smoke or some shit to escape things and Houdini was like “no seriously it’s a trick let me show you how it works” and Doyle was all “it hurts me that you won’t trust me with this secret”

If memory serves he eventually decided that Houdini was subconsciously magic and in denial

(via itswalky)