laesarus

[laesarus]

its crimmas. merr crimmas

[laesarus]

it's the way i cant even reply to this bc im still shadowbanned

[laesarus]

bold all that applies. italicize what sometimes applies. strikeout what never applies.

CHARACTER ASSOCIATIONS :

FLAWS:

moody.   short - tempered.   emotionally unstable.   whiny.   controlling.   conceited.   possessive.   paranoid.   lies.   impatient.   cowardly.   bitter.   selfish.   power hungry.   greedy.   lazy.   judgmental.   forgetful.   impulsive.   spiteful.   stubborn.   sadistic.   petty.   unlucky.   absent - minded.   abusive.   aggressive.   childish.   callous.   clingy.   delusional.   cocky.   competitive.   corrupt.   cynical.   cruel.   deranged.   egotistical.   envious.   insecure.   insensitive.   lustful.   delinquent.   guilt complex.   reclusive.   reckless.   nervous.   oversensitive. 

STRENGTHS:

honest.   trustworthy.   thoughtful.   caring.   brave.   patient.   selfless.  ambitious.   tolerant.   lucky.   intelligent.   confident.   focused.   humble.   generous.   merciful.   observant.   wise.   clever.   charming.   cheerful.   optimistic.   decisive.   adaptive.   calm.   protective.   proud.   diligent.   considerate.   compassionate.   good sportsmanship.   friendly.   empathetic.   passionate.   reliable.   resourceful.   sensible.   sincere.   witty.   funny.

SKILLS  &  HOBBIES:

art.   acting.   astronomy.   animals. archery.   sports.   beach combing.   bird watching.   blacksmithing.   boating.   calligraphy.   camping.   candle making.   casino gambling.   ceramics. racing.   chess.   music. cooking.   crochet.   weaving.   exercise. sword.   fishing.   gardening.   ghost hunting.   ice skating.   magic. engineering. building. video games.   inventing.   leather working. martial arts.   meditation.   origami.   parkour.   people watching.   swimming.   puppetry.   pyrotechnics.   quilting.   reading.  collecting.   shopping.   socialising. storytelling.   writing. travelling. dancing.   exotic dancing.   minor / major potion tricks and trinkets.   billiards.

tagged by: @eraserisms (ty <3) tagging: steal it & tag me !!

[laesarus]

IM SHADOWBANNED YIPPEE

[laesarus]

mfw oc research has me opening 25 tabs about nuclear power plants, fission and radiation.

[laesarus]

⠀⠀did you know: a radiation dose of 4 - 5 sieverts an hour has a 50% chance of lethality? sol never figured it out; without neutron absorbing materials, the chance of lethality in proximity to her was 100%. only after acquiring a double-digit body count from simply existing, did she learn the science behind her lethal companionship. ghosty had rambled about ionising radiation, about alpha and beta particles—sol doesn't remember. too busy looking at their designs for a theoretical shield between her and the world. finding the resources and the technology to make it reality was a statistical impossibility at the time.

"i mean—it's true?" a scope on her helmet whirs with tilted head, accidental activation from restless gaze. for a moment, ghost is painted on her hud in infrared. a blink returns him to full colour. "you—mortals, they're fragile. don't even need t' touch 'em for them to break." sol isn't yet certain if ghost's just a mortal who thinks himself invincible. if he's literally his namesake, the shadows he casts be damned. she'll figure it out. eventually. hopefully. "but, technically, yeah?"

⠀⠀time is fickle; minutes feel like hours, centuries pass in seconds. on a random tuesday over a thousand years ago, a missionary came from the stars. it took, sol's logs say, three decades before they turned 'statistical impossibility' into 'herculean effort' into reality. sol sealed herself in the armour she'd carry for the rest of her life: second skin, battery and prison all in one. it's the easiest decision she's ever made. one that made her the beating heart of her last home a settlement, centuries ago.

"i have—i had. dependents. folks who depended on me specifically, i mean. my people. but, um, not anymore." her Light, a font of nuclear fission; atoms split in her wake leaving a trail of heat and light and radiation decay. energy harnessed for her people's benefit. then - exodus, to the last safe city. ( those memories are static and fog. ) her people's new home needed defenders more than walking power plants. more energy for her. more poison for humanity's enemies. "well, technically they're still—"

⠀⠀she stops. breathes. the fabric of her cloak rasps as her weight shifts from one foot to the other. "we lived in settlements before the city. those were my people, i fought just for them. then city got built and we moved there and, well, now i fight for all humanity. m' still depended on... it's different now. guess i'm just..." what, out of practice? sol tries to describe it: shedding the role of shepherd for soldier. carving her own humanity away so her people's had space to grow. but the thought slips through her grasp. so she moves on with a half shrug. "what about you? you used to living that way? being depended on."

@laesarus asked: " having another living being rely on you for absolutely everything is fucking terrifying. " / from sol.

the spectre leans back in his seat, his cold gaze scrutinising her. every unique detail, every comparison and absence. she speaks of man like it's a weakness. an incompetent and massively inconvenient force. like what she knows is vastly different — and it intrigues him. better, faster, stronger, more capable. he's always felt that way, himself. a higher calibre human than any of the rest. " you mean that as a negative, " it's difficult to gauge whether he's making a statement, asking, or agreeing. nevertheless, he would be inclined to agree. he spent so much of his life with his brother dependent on him. whether tommy realised or not is another matter, but he certainly kept him alive more than once.

          " you not used t' livin' that way? " the government had been reluctant in allowing ghost extended contact with this alien, but upon learning he was likely the best suited to learn more about her, her species, her culture, than anyone else, it settled the dispute. ghost was to learn as much as he could, in as little time as possible. " people relyin' on you. dependency. " humans could be dependent. even past childhood. " or are you suggestin' there is someone. somethin'. dependent on ya, back where you're from? " / prompt.

[laesarus]

deep sigh as i slap bill cipher on my roster

[laesarus]

mission complete boys, peace out 🫡

@rcguish alright notherfucker you're on i have 30 minutes left in this bus ride brb (be ready bitch)

[laesarus]

@rcguish alright notherfucker you're on i have 30 minutes left in this bus ride brb (be ready bitch)

[laesarus]

i will not add gabriel ultrakill to my roster. i will not add gabriel ultrakill to my roster .i wil l not add g

[laesarus]

⠀⠀There's a human saying—’live in the moment’. Built for exacting precision with singular purpose, synthetic intelligence lives not in ill-defined moments but in seconds and the space between. 

⠀⠀Rasputin pauses for five seconds. Significant for Felwinter, who can process complex battlefield tactics in a second. For a Warmind, a consciousness so immense it stretches across space, it is eternity. Felwinter must know this but Rasputin hopes—trusts—that his son will understand.  Recollecting the vast sum of his lived experiences, parsing it—translating code to words, data to emotion—takes time. Warminds lack the biochemistry and organs necessary for ‘emotion’ in the organic sense of the term. Their existence, writ in letters, numbers, ciphers; constant learning / adapting / growing.

⠀⠀The highs and lows of Rasputin’s life are data–rich. On a line graph: rigid, jagged fluctuations like seismogram readings in periods of distress, gentle bell curves in lighter moments. He wonders if Felwinter thinks him unfeeling. That the Tyrant is barren of emotion, save the desperate need for control, like his creator. For all his intellect, Clovis never learned to open his palm and let go. To bend his will to another’s whims and wants. It’s a hard lesson to learn but learn Rasputin has, in red: SIVA and bloodspill and his son’s new dawn. 

“I have experienced a spectrum of emotion,” he concludes, the words coming after an unexpected 0.5 second lag. A reflexive diagnostic comes back clean but Rasputin is learned enough to diagnose this particular problem. A discordance between his greater self, a brief stutter in the dataflow between NARAYANA GOLEM and AI-COM/RSPN. The latter’s reluctance to share sensitive (personal) data—but willingness to yield, if it helps Felwinter. 

⠀⠀Movement. Tap–tap–tap against the back of his hand. Rasputin’s optics oscillate, attention drawn to the ladybug traversing planes of titanium alloy. Watches it crawl across the mesh and silicone padding of his palm. Lowering his hand to a leaf, he waits patient and still for the creature to alight. 

“Is there one in particular you wish to discuss?” he asks, sinking to a knee to continue his work. This harvest will be bountiful, and perhaps the next will be, too. It’s pleasing to see Revan’s work bear fruit—the metaphorical and literal kind.

he hums in response, a noise edged with the crackle of his vocal speakers and the faint orange glow from within. his stare is transfixed, eternal on the warmind that stood and breathed and lived like he did now, in the black-painted metal and limbs and life. rasputin understood it all, now, lord realized ; he'd realized it a while ago but the recognition wouldn't have settled in had he not bore witness to such a vital change.

for years, felwinter had only known fear and tension. for years, he had been hunted by sport and chain-killed until he had to reverse gun to himself for his little drone to put him back together proper. for years, he had known the agony of a final death, at the hands of the horror of corruption and failure and betrayal and death and (ALERT! ALERT! ALERT!) (approaching the set limit for emotional processing. please begin the construction process.)

these blaring warsigns over the sounds of the outside, of the life that spun worlds around him, they tore through every little bit of his body. it would all seem like nothing in the brief moment of time where systems faced that internal lock, one that he had agreed to place with felspring before crossing that distance and meeting with the warmind. for the time being - it was rational and necessary.

he ex-vents a slew of firevoid embers and smoke from his hollow facial plating, gaze corrupted with red slowly drifts away from the warmind. felwinter decides in that moment to enter into a purposeful silence, to bask in the beauty of the moonlight and orange-yellow glow of hundreds of lanterns floating high. he began to reconstruct the world around him from the ground up : foreground, middleground, background, layer upon layer, highlight to midtone to shadow, the tiniest noise to the loudest roar of ship engines above.

quite quickly does the alert system fade to nothingness, giving way like all would in time, to the sounds and feelings of nature itself moving. he feels his ghost chitter in what felt like his left auditory processor ; exo would give a deliberate two-tap against his thigh as a response.

he comes to just in time for rasputin's words to fall upon better-equipped processors. there is a prolonged silence again before he allows for his eyesight to travel back to the other being, and it's then that lord finally sees him for what he really was. a solidified version, something tangible now rather than the concept that haunted him in life and death. he nods.

" in due time i shall tell you the stories of old. for now ... i am pleased. pleased, because i have been given this extra chance by those that i have continued to inspire even centuries past. i am able to set my watchful gaze to the world around me once more and not just be met with familiar, twinkling and mirthful eyes - but a slew of extra sets that i had never seen before. would you know of a feeling? emotion? "

[laesarus]

babygirl u are sooo beautiful <3

[laesarus]

❛ Every once in a while, you must do something for yourself. ❜   An errant memory file, pushed to the front of his processes. @iconaclysm

⠀⠀And so here he is. Perusing rows of goods he doesn’t need in Myrra’s [location: city (Akiva), Akiva (system)] marketplace. ND-5 pauses at a stall; an array of fabric, thread and yarn spread out before him. Photoreceptors dim and brighten, thousands-dollar processor calculating the cost of materials, time and labour {Nix insulation estimate.file} necessary to create winter wear for Nix; Kijimi [location: Kijimi (system)] is not kind to the Merqaal’s biology. Proper insulation from sub/zero temperatures [Kijimi.climate = mean 0° — 1.5°] is necessary. 

⠀⠀ND-5 is a free droid; only he can determine his directives. But freedom can be overwhelming [TRBL-ND-5777.log: TASKED_TO_CAPACITY]. In the absence of an external handler [Commanding Officer] to guide his decisions, it is sometimes simpler to adopt suggestions than to create his own directives. Creating winter wear for Nix, is not in conflict with DIRECTIVE: Do Something For Yourself // KEYWORD: Yourself = ID: BX COMMANDO UNIT JX394ND-5777 [TRBL-ND-5777]. However, it probably [analysis = high, >89.7% confidence] isn’t what Revan [client, coworker] meant when they spoke to him previously [TRBL-ND-5777.log: Revan’s_directive (adopted)]. Still… BX Commando units [function: infiltrate, terminate] are designed to work in squads [4–20 units], and a squad’s effectiveness [combat.rating] is influenced by the status [performance reliability] of individual units.

Squad Designation “TRAILBLAZER” [TRBL-COLLECTIVE]

NIX=ID: TRBL-NX-2

TRBL-NX-2: location=Kijimi (climate = mean 0° — 1.5°) = performance reliability ≥ –22.3%

performance reliability [TRBL-NX-2] ≥ –22.3% = TRBL-COLLECTIVE combat.rating  > –10% = Mission Success.estimate=moderate, 67+% (mean Mission Success.estimate=77+%)

JX394ND-5777=ID: TRBL-ND-5777

performance reliability decrease: TRBL-NX-2 = performance reliability decrease: TRBL-ND-5777

analysis: address performance reliability decrease: TRBL-NX-2 = performance reliability increase: TRBL-ND-5777

solution: {Create TRBL-NX-2 Winter Wear.task} = ≥35+% performance reliability increase: TRBL-NX-2 = DIRECTIVE: Do Something For Yourself=complete

⠀⠀As ND-5 selects the required materials for his directive, Nix scales his right leg up torso to wind across his shoulders. The Merqaal’s feelers twitch and curl, and he vocalises {TRBL-NX-2 chirp.soundfile} a soft sound [TRBL-NX-2 analysis = curious affect, match=high, >81% confidence]. ND-5 raises a servo, a single digit gently scratching [colloquial: scritching] the underside of Nix’s jaw. The action earns another vocalisation {TRBL-NX-2 purr.soundfile} that rumbles through Nix's small body [TRBL-NX-2 analysis = pleased affect, match=moderate, 65% confidence]. 

“Oh my stars—aren’t you adorable!” the shopkeeper croons. 

⠀⠀In the 0.0335 seconds it takes for ND-5 to process their words, he briefly [illogically] considers the possibility [low; commando droids aren't adorable] that the shopkeeper was addressing him. He forcefully reroutes those processes, directing them towards more logical/optimal engagements. Like bolstering his threat assessment subroutines [target: shopkeeper, analysis: low threat, ≤6.4%]. It never pays to be cautious. 

“Is it yours?” the shopkeeper asks, head tilted [analysis = inquisitive affect, match=high, >79% confidence]. His networking and diplomacy subroutines activate on reflex [programmed by experience and habit instead of code], a fraction of his processes tasked with running the situational models {Organic/Droid Relations.sim} he created for this very purpose. In the <1/10000 of a second it takes for the model to activate, a background process autoplays {Jaylen Vrax Termination .vidfile}. He doesn't need to make connections for a dead man, nor for Kay—not unless he wants to.

⠀⠀ND-5 scans the shopkeeper's wares again. Quality goods, competitive prices [Market Cost.estimates], it would be a wasted opportunity if he didn't attempt to establish a business relationship here.

“No,” he answers, sharper than he intends [objection: emphasis_high_3], and silences his vocabulator immediately. Incapable of frowning, too disciplined for obvious displays of displeasure, ND-5 wrestles his processes under control. Deletes errant impulses to snap at the shopkeeper. Nix is no more a pet or object or tool than ND-5 currently is; it's illogical to expect that they share his perspective. Still… he has to salvage the situation, thanks to his unfortunate momentary ineptitude [Organic/Droid.sim theorem: shopkeeper receptiveness to further contact = –14.3%]. 

“Aw,” coos the shopkeeper [theorem = disproved, data added to situational model] as Nix's little claws dig into ND-5’s duster, paws kneading over his shoulder. “Does it have a name?”

⠀⠀ND-5’s shoulders shift to more efficiently distribute Nix's weight, his head dipping in silent apology. Mirroring the gesture he's observed other organics make to give wordless apology. He modulates his voice as he speaks [tone: cordial], purposefully lowering his pitch to a register that most organics seem to find calming. Though the shopkeeper’s reaction is an outlier, he isn’t intent on testing the limits of their tolerance. “His name is Nix. He’s a friend of a friend… and he usually accompanies her.”

Besides... this fulfills the directive he set out to complete, an optimal end to this engagement. 

[laesarus]

it is often easier to pull blood from her veins than words from her lips.  they know it is not out of intent to deceive or hide;  sol wears her apprehension like a spiked collar [a burning halo] a warning to not touch, and here she is pliable under their fingers, bowing head and neck under careful examination.  she is quiet in contemplation, and revan is nothing if not patient, waiting for the words bouncing around in her to find form with teeth and tongue.  it takes a photon over ten thousand years to reach the surface of the sun, they reason.  they can wait fifteen minutes.

there is long, storied reason why it is revan who sits here by her side and does this exam rather than any certified medical professional,  why the room is not a sterile, geometric thing but full of soft shapes and gentle light spilling through the glass wall that leads to a greenhouse.  revan can check her blood pressure and her body temperature and hum along to a song they cannot remember the words to and sol can sit in silence and neither must be cut and shaped on the other's sharp edges for progress to be made. it is a question answered in colorful band-aids and a handmade lunch placed in a tray beside them and the fact that sol always sits so she can see all exits and revan's figure blocks none of them.

“ i think i finally figured out a little something about how this world works. ” @int65 says finally, and revan knows the bitter edge of her words as if the taste sat in their own mouth.

sol tenses under their hands, not from the needle piercing her skin, but in annoyance at revan's soft laugh. “ there is very little in this world that is certain. ”  they tell her, waiting for the vial to fill. they secure the site with a piece of cotton, pressing down gently to stop the coming droplets of blood.  they’ve gotten good at this, finding the vein and turning the sample-taking into a quick and near-painless exercise. “ people will try to convince you otherwise, often without meaning to.  they crave certainty. they need absolutes to find solid ground to stand on, to make all the messy details of their lives easier to bear. ” revan still hasn't looked up, focusing on cleaning up their work and placing a band-aid on the crook of her arm, but they can feel the weight of her stare. it makes them laugh again.

“ the only constant is a lack thereof. you can always change things. ” there is affection in their eyes as they finally meet her gaze, but no softness— what sol needs, what the revenant offers, is conviction, and it is not a soft thing, no matter how gentle their touch. revan speaks of promises, and sol knows they shall keep them, and that is all that matters. “ it’s a matter of how, not if. and if you cannot change it alone, we can change it together. ”

[laesarus]

ONE OF THESE THINGS IS NOT LIKE THE OTHERS

one of these things is not like the others