#Fuzzy Recurrence Plots

[noosphe-re]

FRP are used to estimate functional connectivity. The figure depicts the BOLD signal from FRP in various brain regions, where the FRP were constructed with m = 3, τ = 1, c = 3. It can be seen that the texture of FRP in each brain region is different from other brain regions. The top plane shows the results from children, and the bottom plane represents the results from adults.

Exploring Nonlinear Dynamics In Brain Functionality Through Phase Portraits And Fuzzy Recurrence Plots Qiang Li, Vince D Calhoun, Tuan D. Pham, Armin Iraji bioRxiv 2023.07.06.547922; doi: https://doi.org/10.1101/2023.07.06.547922

[zerogate]

This certainty is characteristic of true intuition. The answers come with what psychologist Jerome Bruner calls “the shock of recognition”. They come suddenly and surprisingly, but fit so well that when the surprise wears off, we are left thinking, “Of course. It is obvious. How could I not have seen it all along?” And from that point on, the missing piece slots neatly into place, the picture is complete, the puzzle is solved and it is hard to remember what it felt like not to know the answer.

And this process of discovery is by no means unique to science. Mozart, in a letter to a friend, described his creative gift as one coming from outside himself.

When I am, as it were, completely myself, entirely alone, and of good cheer – say, travelling in a carriage, or walking after a good meal, or during the night when I cannot sleep; it is on such occasions that ideas flow best and most abundantly. Whence and how they come, I know not; nor can I force them … Nor do I hear in my imagination the parts successively but I hear them, as it were, all at once … The committing to paper is done quickly enough, for everything is already finished; and it rarely differs on paper from what it was in my imagination.

This enviable flow of inspiration, fully formed, was Mozart’s great glory – the result, it seems, of an unusual ability to sustain the intuitive moment beyond the brief flash that leaves most of us blinking and fumbling for answers that were clear in the moment of illumination, but seldom last long enough for us to put them into words or get them down on paper.

Bach had some of Mozart’s flair. “I play,” he said, “the notes in order, as they are written. It is God who makes the music.” Milton wrote that the Muse “dictated” to him the whole “unpremeditated song” that we now know as Paradise Lost. Robert Louis Stevenson dreamed the plot of Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde. Samuel Taylor Coleridge awoke with what he called “a distinct recollection” of the whole of “Kubla Khan”, which he wrote down without conscious effort, pausing only when interrupted by the infamous Visitor from Porlock. By the time that Coleridge returned to his room, the end of the poem was lost for ever. It had “passed away like the images on the surface of a stream into which a stone has been cast.” The flow was broken and the work remains tantalisingly incomplete.

The onset of such illumination has characteristic symptoms. We become subject to “cold chills”, “tingles”, “burning sensations” and “electric glows”. We get “gut reactions” and “feel things in our bones”. The reactions are visceral, but often have superficial symptoms. The poet A. E. Housman remained resolutely clean-shaven. “Experience has taught me,” he said, “when I am shaving of a morning, to keep watch over my thoughts, because if a line of poetry strays into my memory, my skin bristles so that the razor ceases to act.” Creative ideas are often preceded by intimations, by fuzzy feelings that something is about to happen.

These are well described by philosopher Graham Wallas as “a vague, almost physical, recurrent feeling as if my clothes did not quite fit me”.

-- Lyall Watson, Beyond Supernature

[riewritten]

24 HAVOC

DUSK IN THE BRIGHTEST | chapter directory

erwin smith/fem!reader, erwin smith/you, no y/n | slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff & smut, mutual pining, canon AU, college/univ AU, professor erwin smith, commander erwin smith, non-linear narrative, manga spoilers

Trigger warning: canon-typical violence, graphic description, explicit sexual content, suicidal thoughts, mental health issues, trauma, implied/referenced sexual harassment, implied/referenced abuse, attempted murder, overdosing

Plot: It was always the nightmares, really. Entrapped with walls, human-eating giants, fighting through metal strings and swords – utterly violent, dreary, recurrent. But behind the blurry faces was a man with menacing blue eyes and vivid features; eventually appearing before you as your new reputable professor, Erwin Smith. Since then, the disaster had slipped beyond your subconscious. AO3

As much as you're accustomed to terror, you actually preferred having the sun peak at its highest during the times you have to face such. That way he won't be too hard to spot, not too hard to go to. His features are greatly accentuated that way as well— from the hues of his eyes to his voice constantly laced with anger and finality. But everything's dark right now, smokey even, and you pretty much don't have an idea of what's happening anymore. After confronting the Colossal and having it release steam enough to burn up the whole five squads including yours, your consciousness got hazy and everything went beyond comprehensible. You knew well that not even Erwin's intricacies of strategy would make this doomsday a little bit better, and you've pretty much registered that you're ready to see him die as much as you're prepared to face death yourself.

After a moment of floating in an abyss, you barely opened your eyes again and realized you're now lying on a rough asphalt surface, feeling as if boiling water was thrown all over your body. It was a minute until you realized the fight was over. You've readied yourself for this. Yeah, you pretty much did; you gently told yourself. Even though the last decent interaction you've had was when he leaned his head on your shoulders, you got the courage to accept that as the last. You know for certain that preparing yourself for the dusk preceding into darkness and having it for the rest of your days is always easier said than done, but still—

You abruptly felt Hange cover your eyes then you're shot back to reality again; your sobs tipped at its loudest despite your whole body staying unmoved. Your hands were trying to reach up, perhaps to crawl, towards a glimpse you didn't even recognize that much.

“Calm her down or knock her unconscious. She’s noisy.” Levi muttered with pain lacing his voice. Hange coaxed you to let yourself rest because everyone standing on this roof is literally the only ones who survived and they can't have you dead because of something like this. As your cries slowly went weaker, a vague thought rattled your last bits of consciousness: you're pretty much an empty shell again, but unlike before, you can’t deal with this anymore. Your mind’s not that clear to reason out why, but this is absolutely your tipping point.

But then the ground shook and your fuzzy thoughts were cut off. With Hange removing their hand and your eyes opening wide, the armored titan stood in his glory. You can’t believe the fight’s not yet over and everyone would indeed end up dead. He swayed his hand to crush all of you into pieces and so you shrieked for those who could to move out of here quickly. However, as confusing as it was, no one on that roof listened.

Then his hand came. Your vision blacked out.

"Hey," A palm rested on your head with your eyes closed. "It's okay. Nothing's gonna hurt you."

"Isabel…?" You pondered. "Am I dead now?"

She chuckled, "No! You're having a hard time but you're not dead. What’s bothering you?"

The armored titan crushed us. That's what was bothering me.

"Here. Drink some water first. You've been crying a lot since earlier." Furlan chipped in. 

"She clearly can’t hear us. Let's bring her to the hospital already." Levi asked from quite a distance.

Why? Do we still have the means to—no, wait. This is weird.

In a blink of light, you can see things again and this time it’s way more comprehensible. You're in Isabel's bed. She’s seated beside you. Furlan is standing in front, holding a glass. Levi's leaning on the door with arms crossed. 

After a moment, Isabel raised her hand in front of you. “What number is this?” You didn’t answer. Even if you can see clearly, your brain’s too distorted to even comprehend how many that was.

Furlan scooted towards you and rested the glass on your cheek; you instinctively flinched yet he didn’t remove it. “Is it cold or warm?” You didn’t answer. You don’t feel it at all.

This time, Levi walked nearer but quickly halted when you gasped. Oh god, you muttered as the ground shook. Is it an earthquake? You rested your hands on the bed to feel it and thereby rationalize. No, this is definitely not an earthquake. You glanced towards them again and the look on their faces was as horrified as you are. 

“The titans,” You released a shaky breath upon realization. “Have they finally come here? In this world?” You saw Levi open his mouth to say something but was cut off by huge stones being thrown all over the area. The overwhelming sounds made you shriek in panic. You even heard some land hardly on the balcony. With both hands gripping the sides of your head, you faced the three. “What are you waiting for? We have to move quickly! Are you planning to die here?”

“What is–” Furlan was cut off with another bang; you flinched again. It presumably landed in the dining room.

“The gears, we don’t have gears with us.” You panicked. “Maybe we can avoid the boulders if we crawled but–” Then tried to stand up and walk. “–if we stayed on the ground the titans might–”

You were cut off when Levi shouted out your name. He’s already in front of you with hands clasped on your shoulders. “Come to your senses! There are no titans here, no boulders even! You have to calm down!” Then silence came, not because you believed him but because you remembered his remark on that roof— “Calm her down or knock her unconscious. She’s noisy.” — It dreaded you for the second time; you're pretty much an empty shell again, but unlike before, you can’t deal with this anymore. You placed a palm on top of your head, gently this time, then messy sobs came out. Levi’s grip on your shoulder lightened. Your knees weakened. You let yourself fall to the ground.

“Erwin–” You huffed a loud sob. “Erwin’s gone.” 

“He’s what?” Isabel exclaimed in panic.

Levi sighed and then reached for his phone. “He’s not talking about that Erwin.” Before he went out of the room, he called for Furlan and Isabel. “Get the oil in mom’s closet and make her smell that. Wrap her up in a blanket and help her ground. Grab her meds downstairs as well.”

The fiasco pretty much ended after that, at least on the outside. Erwin arrived not too long after as well. You saw him walk inside the room, felt his hand when he cupped your cheek, saw his mouth open as if he called for your name; all that yet you can’t respond. Not only did the sensations feel so weak and your muscles can't be lifted, but you can also see and hear plenty of moments happening all at once. From Erwin sitting beside you as he asked how you are doing, your knife pointed to an old king with long hair and a thick beard, a little girl with light hair and a cloth headband running towards a huge tree that lit up moments after, and then—

"Here." Levi handed you a cup in his hand. "Have a tea first before we talk about the mess earlier." You were about to try lifting your hand to get it but then Levi's figure glitched, terribly so, as if you're watching a horror movie but it's from your own eyes and not a mere TV screen. 

"Have a tea first before we talk about you quitting the Scouts according to Erwin's will. He didn’t plan to deprive you of your job. He just indicated that you retransfer to the Military Police." He handed you a cup that smelt like chamomile. 

"I'm not quitting.” You scowled in anger. “Who the hell does he think he is, making me abide by orders without any ounce of rationality? He’s literally a corpse now. Cut me off some slack.”

Then it glitched again. It took you a blink to realize you're back being on Isabel's futon; Erwin and Levi were staring at you aghast.

"What was that? Who the hell gave you order without an ounce of rationality?" Levi remarked in shock. Erwin looked sidewards with eyebrows curled in worry, or guilt– you don’t know. Your brain's too foggy to comprehend it.

"I'm not… sure. Everything's occurring in my head all at once." Your voice tipped down into mumbles. “There’s a little girl, tree, knife, old man, tree…”

Levi nudged at Erwin, "Experienced the same?"

"No," Erwin muttered. "It never became as confusing as that."

Confusing as that…? You abruptly flinched as if realizing something and called Erwin's name in quite a panic. "This world's getting fragile. One snap then it'd crumble away only to get replaced with that. What if we're too late?"

“It won’t.”

“No! You must understand it more than anyone!”

Erwin scooted nearer and palmed your cheeks. "How do my hands feel?"

"Huh?" You ignored his remark with curled eyebrows, "We might have not much time le–"

"Feel it and answer me." He cut you off sternly with a hard stare.

It took you a couple of seconds to answer. "It's warm." Your voice broke.

"What do warm hands mean?"

"It means–" You bit your lower lip. "–you're alive."

"What's the difference in that world?"

Tears fell, "You're dead in there."

"So how would that replace this world if it got a completely different situation?" You got silent. Erwin, just as usual, slid his thumbs on your cheeks to wipe the tears away. After a while of not responding, his stare softened again. "See now? I told you over and over again. It can never replace this world."

When Erwin realized you're trying to register it, he removed his hands on your cheeks. You almost got the ability to ground yourself as they let you but you lost it again after attempting to explain what’s going on inside you. "But there are so many worlds existing in my head. Various events, different conversations, piling up and up and up–" Your temples throbbed again. You gripped your hair. It was only a matter of time before your vision blurred and your head felt heavy. Voices of Erwin and Levi asking you what was happening got weaker until you couldn't hear them anymore. Despite the attempts to not admit defeat, you lost your consciousness again.

When you opened your eyes, you realized you're now standing in the woods. It’s dusk. You can hear wild dogs roaring from a distance, footsteps in your direction, and a running little girl wearing tattered clothes and a headband. There was an arrow pierced in her shoulders. For some reason, you’re hearing a male voice in your head and you can recognize it despite not hearing it ever before.

What am I watching this time?

The owner of that voice, named Wahren, was hiding inside a bush as he watched the little girl desperately run for dear life. He was supposed to kill her, that’s what he was told, as he’s one of the soldiers tasked to hunt her down all because she released some livestock out of the pen. He also had no idea where his guts were coming from. He knew too well that the tribe’s ruler never got mercy. It can quickly kill a lowly man like him for not following through with orders. However, a thought was tingling inside his head; this little girl had a semblance and fate with his late little sister, killed by a silly mistake as well at the same age. Perhaps it was his grief, desperation even, to not see something like that ever again. Maybe sparing this one quite a little would calm his guilt for failing to protect someone most dear to him even for a tad bit; perhaps he's just projecting. But then again, it’s not like he has something to live for either way. If he got busted for it, he could just kill himself before they do. 

His thoughts and steps came to a stop upon seeing an uncanny massive tree with a crevasse at its base, and he was too aghast to even mutter a word. He often comes inside the woods to hunt but never in his life had he seen such a tree. Nonetheless, the little girl came running towards it and Wahren sighed in relief. The sunset just ended after all. She’d be hard to spot from hereon. As he turned his back to go back and feign ignorance at what he just saw, the tree was abruptly hit by a flash of lightning. The whole area burned up and unfortunately, he’s too near to even dodge it. Still, the last thought that came to Wahren’s mind was sheer relief. He could finally die and even if the concept of the afterlife never came across his mind, what he desperately wished for was to lose grasp of his failures, the trembling culpability of having every loved one dead while he remained alive. 

As much to his dismay, he woke up the morning after. The whole area wasn’t burnt into crisp, not at all. The plants nearby actually bloomed too quickly that he almost thought he was in a completely different place. The tree was gone and the little girl was nowhere to be found as well.

Most importantly, something uncanny was occurring inside his brain. He held on to his temples as they throbbed very hard; heaps of different events and possibilities were ensuing all at once— humans running from giants, giants running from humans, humans with unimaginable things that could explode and harm other beings, humans surrounded by the tallest of tallest structures, and different worlds materializing everytime a choice is made. It was constant that he almost lost his head; he even fainted only to wake up with the same feeling again. 

It was months-long of mind torture until Wahren fully grasped what was happening. After all, the little girl came back with a mysterious power at hand as well. Something must be up in that tree that caused his ability to see different arrangements beyond imagination. And one dreary night inside his hut, he realized that he wasn’t just seeing worlds to worlds, he could go beyond structuring one as well. It was perhaps the happiest moment in his entire life; he even almost went for it. Who wouldn’t? He had lost so much ever since this tribe conquered their land, killed his parents, cut his and his sister’s tongue, and eventually killed his sister afterward— he had no hope left and nothing to anticipate. He couldn't see any reason to have the world continue its existence.

As much as he was delighted, however, huge fear lingered deep inside his consciousness. If he ever came to use his power, what would happen to the world he resided in? Would it crumble, perhaps cause the end of the world? Can he carry such a burden in the new one he’s going to build? Would he be some sort of an ominous being afterward? His smile didn’t last long as dread consumed him of uncertainties. If he decided to never use his ability, the overwhelming existence of all worlds wrapped inside his head might last for a lifetime. If he used it, he might become a god-like being, kill everyone, and carry a big burden in exchange for such a huge power. And he doesn’t want that. Not everyone would.

His reluctance and cold feet stopped for good one cold night when he managed to save a woman who just birthed without anyone, aside from him, rushing to help. Her tongue was cut, too, and she looked like left alone outside to die with the infant. It was when Wahren realized that he still wasn't done projecting his guilt into protecting anyone he saw fit. And as he took in the two beings under his care, they eventually became his only two reasons to not risk this world towards banishment; the same ones that heightened his apprehension towards the newfound power. Not only did he need to protect his new family from it, but he also had to keep it from the threat of exploitation. Unlike the young girl, he doesn’t want to be at the disposal of the Eldian tribe. He has a will of his own and that is to safeguard the existence of those he deems important. Wahren didn’t deprive his descendants of this knowledge but he enclosed it as a silly bedtime story in hopes that they would never carry such a burden of existence inside them. As he watched them get older, he then realized that none of his children got it. Relieved at that fact, Wahren was able to die in peace.

But then again, perhaps any optimism towards a full-on curse will always be a futile struggle. Every single descendant of Wahren who’d end up in a fate similar to him, the tormenting grief leading towards hopelessness of having the world continue its existence, will have the same crosses to bear. 

Hundred years passed with the persistence of the titan war and Wahren’s descendants were obliterated all at once as collateral of a battle, only because they happened to live on the east border of Eldia. Verra, the lone survivor of the attack, was immensely covered in anguish after having everyone she grew up with stomped down into nothingness. A ray of hope struck her after a family of Marleyan farmers kept her in right after. They were kind and understanding, to say the least, that they didn’t mind having an Eldian under their wing despite the same race subjecting them to endless aggression. However, that only hope was shattered for good after the same farmers got massacred by Eldian forces years after.

On that ghastly day, not only smoke and dust from the carcasses daunted Verra’s vision but also the memories of every ancestor who got the same power triggered, as well as the fragments of different worlds coexisting all at once– something that’d wreak havoc inside her head from hereon.

After a blink, she saw herself lying down in a vast space. She was as if inside a thick straight line with transparent walls and grounds. Above her was a line as well consisting of what seemed to be a different dimension full of imperceptible animals and brown sand; below her was a civilization of humanity with silverish elements towering them. On her both sides, an abyss of darkness with twinkling lights stood in its glory. Despite being here for the first time, she completely knew what this place was as she saw it in the fragments of memories moments ago; she’s in the Parallel, a space where the first founder of this power resides. She gave herself a slap and the pain confirmed that she was still indeed alive. The screams of her brain that urged her to get out of this quick were all cut off when the aged man with tied-up hair and a long thick beard appeared. He was wearing a ragged brown robe. He’s not unfamiliar, not at all, for she saw his memories as well moments ago.

It was Wahren, the first bearer. He reached a hand at her so she could stand up, and as she followed suit, she heard him speak inside her mind instead of a voice coming out straight from his mouth. “This will not be a long talk for you’re already aware of the conditions.” He started as Verra examined him. “Now I must ask, do you plan to have the power at your disposal?”

She undoubtedly would. If she ever could make a world where Eldians and the same titans who wrecked her home would perish, she would use it without hesitation. She’ll have them at her mercy, crush all of them repeatedly until they’re all unmoveable heap. She’ll laugh at them, have them reminded of every single time they—

“You might be misunderstanding something here, young woman.” Wahren cut her thoughts as if he heard her just well. “I must apologize. The stipulation revolving the power of the parallel might be unclear to you as of the moment.”

“Then explain so. If I ought to do something that’d guarantee the ability all for myself then I’d be more than willing to have it.”

“I doubt you would.” He interjected in lament. Before she could retort, however, he added. “You only have partial access to this dimension because you’re one of my descendants. To have it completely, the bearer must voluntarily eliminate themselves in the world they are in and they must do so by dusk.”

Verra released a wry chuckle, “You think I can’t do that? I don’t have anyone in that world anymore. That’s the easiest thing I could do next time I wake up again.”

“After obtaining cognition on the existence of multiple worlds, you must know next that you can’t make a completely new one on your own. All you have under your ability is to occupy an existing one and impose two conditions under your privilege– one concerning physical laws and one in pursuit of your will, as the bearer, throughout your life.”

Despite not having the particular conditions in mind yet, Verra still had the certainty and taunt in her features. “So all I have to do to obtain it is to have myself killed by dusk?”

“The conditions the bearer must set upon their power must be pondered seriously.” Of course, I would; Verra interjected in her thoughts. “After all, those conditions would exist in exchange for the bearer’s existence.”

There, the smug look on her face was replaced with shock. “Does that mean I’ll…?”

“Right. The bearer will cease to exist in the world they plan to set conditions on.” Wahren quickly replied. “Do you think the conditions you had in mind are something so worth it that you’d risk your existence for it?”

She’s quite in denial, “My existence in that world, as a woman belonging in Eldia? Is that what you meant?”

The old man shook his head no. “Your existence in every world subsisting in space.”

That’s where the flash of memory ended. The last thing you’ve felt from Verra’s consciousness was immense reluctance. Perhaps if she could have such power at her disposal, she must have the privilege of relishing it as well.

And that’s what sets the line between the two of you; you never cared for your existence to begin with. If you’ve got the privilege to impose even the subtlest conditions on some world just so the people you deem important would live a relatively better life, you will never hesitate, not even at the expense of your being. Furthermore, months after you recovered from the catastrophe in Shiganshina, you were made aware that Hange is dismissing you from your post as a Scout. You’re not clear on the reason just yet and you even glowered the first time you heard it, but you started taking no mind of it after that vision came. If you can’t leverage your job as a soldier to die by dusk, you’ll do it yourself instead.

That is until Levi came banging on your door before evening came.

His eyebrows curled upon seeing the mess beside the barely opened door. “What the fuck? How can you live like this? Are you a rat?” He was wearing a white polo underneath a black blazer with his cravat displayed neatly. He was also holding a letter sealed in an envelope, presumably from Hange.

“Speak of your intentions or leave.” You groggily replied.

“This is about Hange’s order to make you quit–”

“I know it already. Go away now.” You quickly cut him off and were about to shut the door but Levi stopped it with a foot.

“You didn’t report for one month and two weeks already since your recovery, ignored every subordinate that came knocking at your door, and even left the hospital without decent notice.” He lowly remarked. “Now why do you think Hange forced me on an errand as silly as this?”

Still, you’re unperturbed. “Tell Hange I already accept whatever’s imposed regarding my job.”

“You didn’t even hear it properly. A soldier reported you were still barely rational when they brought the message and you even made a scene inside your room until the damn doctors sedated you. Have you lost some screws in the head? Do we need to recover it in Shiganshina, perhaps beside Erwin’s corpse?”

You’re still not used to the upheaval of existence swamped inside your head for a while now and you can’t deal with this without a ringing headache. You shut your eyes tight and hissed in pain. “Please, just—come back the next day. I just need to sleep this headache away.” And lied. You’re also quite in a rush right now as it’s a few moments away until dusk.

“It was on Erwin’s last will to have you quit,” Levi muttered then your eyes were shot wide. “That’s why Hange can’t go against it.”

Your hands started trembling a little and Levi took the opportunity to kick the door open so he could enter. “If you’ll keep on being a damn child right now then be my guest.” He grabbed your hand gently, much to your surprise, and ushered you to the dining table.

You sighed heavily as you sat, “Then don’t bother yourself. I need to be alone right now.”

He ignored you, and as much as you’re vexed at him randomly opening kitchen closets and bantering at how you descended from a noble soldier to a lowly rodent, you really can’t shoo him away. Not when your head is swirling. After a moment, he walked towards you. "Here. Have a tea first before we talk about you quitting the Scouts according to Erwin's will. He didn’t plan to deprive you of your job. He just indicated that you retransfer to the Military Police." He handed you a cup that smelt like chamomile.

"I'm not quitting.” You scowled in anger. “Who the hell does he think he is, making me abide by orders without any ounce of rationality? He’s a corpse now. Cut me off some slack.”

“Is that what you said to the soldier who came to you that day as well?” He stayed unperturbed. He rather walked around and sounded like grabbing up things randomly. It wasn’t long until you realized he was really about to clean your damn house.

“I told you to stop bothering yourself on this.” You grimaced. “I’m not in the headspace to register the things you’re about to say right now. I’ll just drop by the ba–” You paused as he walked past you to get a broom in the corner of the kitchen. “Levi!” You exclaimed.

“What?” He turned to you. “Is this what you’ll become after his death? And when you kept on retorting to my banters about you being a mere doll. Is that actually true? Are you as good as dead now that your owner died?”

“Get out of my house.” You glared at him.

“Then what? The only one who could take your stubbornness very well is buried inside a fucking basement. If you keep on being a mess right now then I might as well knock you unconscious and have soldiers bring you to the barracks by force.” Before you could shoot back angrily at that, however, he quickly cut you off. “Keep your words until I clean this crap up, or if you want this dispute to be solved faster then help me do so.”

You looked out the window and realized it was beyond dusk already. You sighed in defeat and let Levi do whatever he thought to do. Your head was also ringing worse than earlier and if you don’t nap it away you’d certainly explode and lose your cool again just like how you did back at the hospital.

When you woke up, Levi’s already sat in front of you with a grim expression. “You’re groaning while sleeping.” He quickly clarified even before you could ask why he didn’t wake you up.

“Sorry.” You muttered. Fortunately, the headache subsided quite a bit. “You might be right. I might’ve banged my head hard that day. It’s been a mess since.”

“Hange intended to schedule a debriefing with you after you recover but you never showed up since then. I never thought it’d be this bad.”

“Congrats on your discovery, little Captain. Now please give this lowly rodent a privilege to hear what you actually came here for.” You tiredly replied.

“I used to look at my banters as nothing but silly gestures to get under people’s nerves but it looks like some of it turned out right.” He started. “How dismaying. You really ended up being Erwin’s lowly marionette that's no use left because he’s dead. ”

You shot him a surly look, “Is this what you came here for?”

“Explain all the stuff inside the bedroom right now.” He lowly retorted and you felt your limbs freeze.

“What the fuck? You went all the way to my bedroom? Have you got no decency left in you?” Still, Levi stayed unmoved. His face just got angrier, even. You gently brushed a hand on your head to calm yourself down. “This talk is over. Leave now.”

“So everything will end like this? Even after witnessing countless deaths from our comrades?”

“Levi, I told you to leave–”

“Is Erwin that different from everyone? Was he the only reason why you kept on being a Scout? How about the countless soldiers who died before him that never led you to plot something like this?”

“Are you seriously asking me this now?”

“I am. At least I’ll have you blurt out your shallowness before the rest of us attend your funeral. That way the kids won’t have to grieve at you losing your life because one of them actually got to live instead of him; or have Hange burdened with further regret at attempting something in respect to that bastard’s nonsense but final wishes,” He gritted his teeth and clenched his hand. “–or me crippling down because of my own decision.”

Finally, the anger in your face subsided and was replaced with pain; the very same expression Levi was having in front of you. You understood that well, at least you’re being reminded that you should, but you’re utterly exhausted and you never planned to become like this. You never thought you’d be as good as dead after his demise because you have seriously prepared yourself for it— for countless times, for every moment you stopped your urges to give in, for the days you feigned ignorance at how he looked at you, or how he smiled whenever you agree to go with him during weekends, or how he frankly gave in by cupping your face and kissing your head— because all of it just gave you endless tremors on your limbs. The tormenting desire to admit out loud that for all the moments your eyes met and your skins came in contact, nothing was in your mind but the yearning to have it for yourself rather than a luxury. That you vehemently hoped for your affection to be something that’d keep both of you in solace instead of anguish. That you seriously regretted not consoling him in any way, not even a tight squeeze on his hand, because it was never his fault that you stayed beside him and it doesn’t have to hurt him more than the torture itself.

And now that you’ve got aware of a way to have him outlive just this moment just so he could see what he dedicated his whole life for, you ultimately can’t let that slip away even at the expense of your existence and the fact that you won’t see him again nonetheless. You were willing to brush off the desire to ever witness, even from afar, the look on his face as he finally proved his father right. To be able to grant him a world where he gets that is something you’d do over and over again. Perhaps at that moment, you’d finally be at ease. It might even be possible to have your brother grant his silly wishes as well without falling to death. You’re certain those were more important than you and you’ll continue looking at it that way.

You smiled at Levi apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry everyone like that.”

“I’m not asking for apologies. Answer me.”

“I don’t know what came to me. I’m sorry.” You lied and both of you got silent.

After a while, he stood up. “You don’t need to pay me back for cleaning your mess. I just need you to come to the barracks with me.” You turned to him and the subtle yet heavy guilt on his face was the last needed push to finally let the emotions out. “That’s the least I could do for making that decision.”

“I will never blame you for that. No one should dare so, not even you.” You bit your lip to avoid letting out a sob. He didn’t answer, he just entered your room again and disposed of everything he pertained to earlier.

After a while, he gave you your coat. “Then you should do the same. If he wants you to suffer until your last breath then do it, just like any other orders you’ve followed for him.”

previous chapter | next chapter

bonus: what verra saw below the parallel she stood in

[punksarahreese]

"you're the reason i'm still here" for recurrence!au? cancer is making my brain go brrrrrr too

Still Here | Recurrence

Cancer!AU; it’s never easy but love can ease the burden just a bit

Prompt: you’re the reason I’m still here

Word count: 1824

CW: cancer, medical talk, death mention

***

Chemo is always made out to be yet another evil in the web of pain that is cancer. Ava supposed that made sense, since being pumped full of chemicals designed to rip apart every cell wasn’t exactly comfortable. Still, it beat a lot of the other aspects of being a cancer patient. She could take the nausea and the hair loss, as much as it still shocked her after all this time. She could handle the chemo because she knew it was her best shot, even though her body had never really been the same after her treatments decades before.

Chemo was better than coughing up blood and passing out in the scrub room. That had been a mortifying experience, when she had tried to go back to work a couple days after her rediagnosis. She had an oncologist appointment scheduled that day and there was no way in hell Ava was about to sit around and mope any longer. She still had patients and surgeries to attend to; being a cancer patient could wait a few hours.

She regretted that decision when she had an episode after a 5 hour surgery, barely missing the edge of the sink on her way down. A head injury would have been the cherry on top of that horrible day, though the CT and endoscopy that followed her accident was almost as bad. Somehow it made it worse that Connor didn’t tease her about it, instead he had been hovering by her side throughout all of the tests and making sure she was alright. Maybe it was a little sweet that he clearly cared, yet Ava kind of hated it all the same. Connor acting like this meant he was treating her differently, usually he didn’t hesitate to bully her and expect a snide remark in return. That was the part of cancer that was more unbearable than any chemical soup infusion or oncologic emergency; the knowledge that everyone saw her as broken.

So even though it burned as it trickled into her veins and left a strangely metallic taste in Ava’s mouth, the chemo was the least painful thing that had happened that week. She was settled in one of the purple chairs, a fuzzy blanket with South African flag motifs tucked around her legs. The infusion room was always a bit on the cold side, no matter what hospital it was in, and so she came prepared. It was a fleeting comfort, the soft fabric not helping much as she felt a chill that settled into her bones. Nothing could quell that, no amount of comfy items or get well soon messages; it was just how one felt when they were on death’s door for the billionth time in their life.

Ava wasn’t the only one in the room but it was still silent, save for the mechanical buzz of the IV equipment doing its job. She didn’t know any of the other patients, save for one man with an inoperable cardiac tumour she remembered consulting on. That was a bit awkward, though she wasn’t quite sure if the old man even recognized her. She barely recognized herself that day, makeupless and her hair partially hidden under a silk scarf her sister had given her years before. Her hair was still intact, she was just preparing herself for the inevitable. Maybe she would cut it super short or dye it before it all fell out; that could be fun.

It was times like this where Ava didn’t feel like a person, let alone a surgeon. Maybe that was better in that situation anyway, the last thing she wanted was any patient to think she wasn’t giving her 110% in all of their surgeries. She had never let cancer stop her in the past so she sure as hell wouldn’t let it now.

She had been trying to read a book that Sam had recommended, a cozy novel about a surgeon’s life that actually turned out to be pretty accurate. Ava had given up on that pretty quickly though, chemo brain ruining any chance of her understanding the plot. It was only her second infusion out of the 14 cycles her oncologist planned with her, which was a tad frustrating. If she was already having trouble quelling the chemotherapy side effects, Ava worried she might not be able to work through her treatments. That was the worst case scenario, though, and she was already stubbornly refusing to take any extra time off.

Slumping back in the chair, Ava’s head hit the headrest a bit too hard. She stifled a groan, the action not having helped her pounding headache. The sounds of the room were starting to become too much, probably due to the stress already on her body and mind.

“Want some company?”

Ava lifted her head at the question, smiling weakly, “Hey, don’t you have rounds?”

“I’m taking a break to do a private consult,” Sarah answered as she tugged one of the rolling chairs over, “Perhaps my favourite cancer patient, I need to check on her mental status of course.”

“Sarah…” While her girlfriend’s playful smile made Ava feel a bit giddy, she could see there was true worry in her words. The psych resident was prone to worrying, especially when her girlfriend was actively in a chemo cycle. She had done far too much journal reading, Ava would tell her countless times, the mental effects of cancer care were nothing in comparison to her physical pain.

“It’s my job to worry,” the slight tremor of her hand prompted Sarah to take it in both of hers, “Especially since you insist upon working through treatments.”

“I’m not going to let my rare recurrence of cancer endanger my patients’ lives.”

Sarah’s incredulous look almost made her laugh, “That’s single handedly the stupidest and most selfless thing you’ve said.”

“I’m nothing without surgery, Sarah.”

“Ava, don’t be like that. You need to take care of yourself, with or without your job. You can’t help your patients if you’re dead.”

Shaking her head, Ava shifted a bit in her seat, “Does pumping my body full of cytotoxic drugs really count as taking care of myself?”

“If it’ll shrink the tumours? Yes, actually.”

“Babe, I’m doing the chemo,” she reminded Sarah by gesturing to the bright red liquid slowly dripping through her IV, “Full of Doxorubicin. They’re doing a VDC/IE cycle, fourteen weeks of this will either kill the cancer or me in the process.”

“Don’t…”

“Sarah, I’m just teasing. I’ll be fine, this is going to shrink the mets enough for Connor to remove them, okay?”

“Well you need to be cooperative then,” she reminded her girlfriend sternly, “No complaints, if your oncologist wants you to take time off work you will.”

“That’s unfair. They’re already talking about putting a port in, the last thing I want is to have a tube in my subclavian again. Are you going to make me stay home and be a vegetable in bed too?”

The way Sarah sighed made Ava realize she was pushing the boundaries a bit too far. She had long since gotten used to the pain and uncertainty that came along with cancer, so Ava had no qualms about joking around or acting like it wasn’t all that bad. It was bad, of course, but she had spent far too long moping about her health history and this time she wouldn’t let it set her backwards.

Sarah, however, was unsure about the whole thing. This wasn’t like when she was seven and her great grandmother she didn’t remember well died because of stomach cancer. This was a person she knew and loved so much, they were both adults and she only ever saw a future with Ava, so it was more than terrifying. She knew Ava was used to this but she also wanted everything to go 100% right, Sarah feared that her girlfriend’s work-oriented views would impact how successful her treatments were. Besides, once the chemo side effects hit Ava would be begging for a few days off if she wasn’t already bedriddden; they both knew that.

“I’m sorry,” Ava did her best to hide the flinch that was triggered by a tugging on her IV, the cannula moving uncomfortably in her arm. She had reached for Sarah but her girlfriend had scooted just far enough away, looking at her with a worried expression. She had a right to be upset, of course, but Ava didn’t want to make things any harder on them for the long term.

“Seriously, love,” she continued with a tiny pout playing on her lips, “I will behave.”

“Promise?”

“Mhm, just for you.”

“You’re a pest,” Sarah’s reply was lighthearted despite her words, and she didn’t protest when Ava’s free hand hooked into the arm of her chair, tugging her closer again. She knew this was just the way her girlfriend coped and really it made sense. After so long all she ever wanted to do was do surgery and then spend her off time with her love, so Sarah was aware how much this changed things for them both.

“You’re the reason I’m still here, Sarah Reese,” Ava admitted quietly, her gaze trained on the way her hands fiddled with the edge of Ava’s blanket. She was quick to stop the worrying of the fabric, lacing Sarah’s fingers with her own instead.

“Don’t get all mushy and existential on me, Ava Bekker,” she retorted, “It’s far too early on for that.”

“Hey, you’re my rock; not just in the cancer stuff but also in general. I don’t think I’d be here, in Chicago or anywhere for that matter, if I hadn’t met you.”

“It would be very unprofessional of me to kiss you right now,” Sarah’s cheeks were a little pink, staring at her girlfriend with a bittersweet mixture of love and pain. Ava just laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood, pressing a kiss to the back of Sarah’s hand as a compromise.

“Go catch up with Doctor Charles for rounds, Darling,” she said softly, “I’ll see you later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I have another hour or so of this,” she gestured to the IV pole holding her hostage in the harshly lit room, “And you have work. I’ll catch up with you once I’ve changed, I don’t have a surgery scheduled until four pm.”

“Okay… Ava don’t push yourself. Call me if you feel even a little unwell, okay? I mean it.”

“I will, Sarah.”

“You better,” she stood from the chair, accidentally sending it sliding backwards a bit with the momentum, “I love you.”

“And I you,” Ava smiled because even if Sarah’s presence didn’t take her pain away she certainly made it a bit more bearable. She gave her hand one gentle squeeze and let go, “I love you, Sarah.”

[somarysueme]

WicDiv Thoughts, some overly personal

stiiiiiillllll can’t really put together my feelings about the end and epilogue.  I will say that I liked the ending and epilogue more than I expected to*, and the longer I sit on it, I find more things to like about it.

(* Except for everything about Baal and Mini)

That said, there’s still that huge, unpleasant gap between what I wanted/expected this comic was supposed to be, and what it actually intended/was. I wrote this post after 43 (the “everyone does the thing” chapter), using bits of a half-written reaction to 39 ("Laura did the thing” chapter) to talk about that gap. I decided to sit on it til everything was said and done Just In Case, but I mostly still agree with what I’d written. 

So Here Are My Thoughts

The full pantheon abdicating! This is basically where I expected us to go. Since 39 it seems like the natural place for the story to be headed. Laura’s revelations, along with the Daddy Forgive Us special made it clear that the only way out of the game was not to play it. I was kinda luke warm on that concept, but it made sense for where the story was at that point. I was waiting to see how it actually played out before getting fussy about it.

I give him a C for execution here. Maybe a C+. 

I thought Dio’s moment was great. Jon’s was beautiful. Inanna’s I definitely could have gotten behind if he’d actually gotten to have any of that arc on the page instead of getting put on a bus 30 chapters ago. 

The rest range from “meh” to “yikes.”

I could have liked this, I wanted to like this. Given how much “OKAY” has been miles more thoughtful than Mothering Invention, I was genuinely hoping to like this. I would have loved to see these kids find something more important than godhood to live for. But that’s not what we got.

We did get them realizing that being a god is not worth dying for. Which is good!  And essential! And basically the central conceit of this comic! 

But.

But...  

I really wanted to see our cast value their lives period. And while there was some of that, there was far more of seeing them be humbled. We saw them beaten down until they had no choice but to admit they Were Not Special (or at least, were not as special as they thought). I was hoping for them to find a capacity to value their lives because their lives have value whether or not they are special, but instead it was a story about being humbled, and I guess to me, I just can’t see that what young queer artists need is help being humbled. They need help being valued as people, they need the internal presence of self to command that value be respected, and they need the external support to give them a fighting chance at that.  And not to be That Fan, but that fighting chance doesn’t come from individual actions. It comes from worker solidarity and respect for labor as labor.  It just doesn’t work for me to have a series around the exploitation and consumption of young talent and leave anything material about money and labor practices out of the material.

(McKelvie’s My (6000 F) pantheon has unionized joke, but unironically.)

Anyway this comic was all about Don’t Let This Happen To You.  And that’s a good start, but I was hoping for it to be so much more than that. It could be that this is me looking at WicDiv and wanting it to say something broader about specialness and creativity and mental illness and exploitation. 

(There’s a lot to be unpacked wrt presenting itself as a story about the whole world through all of human history, while also intending to be  psuedoautobiographical for a very specific set of circumstances. But that’s not this post.)

It’s weird because like, Fandemonium already delivered masterfully on Laura learning to value herself outside of godhood.  Laura’s last pre-apoptheosis soliloquy about “I can’t save any of them, but I can still help them” was one of those wham moments that really cemented this book’s place in my heart. Living through Fandemonium and realizing that the gods were people, and needed actual love and support from people who cared about them as people, and that just being a decent friend is something worth living for, fuck!! That’s good shit!! That’s fucking excellent!! 

And for the rest of WicDiv’s run, I was always waiting for the story to get back to that place, but it never really did. 

 (ETA AFTER 45 IS OUT: ok fine I fucking love that Laura saved Luci. Big Gay Hero Girl drags naughty non-devil out of hell and they kiss, fucking A+. But “can’t save but CAN help” is still something I wish the comic had followed up on more. The friendship thing got touched on a little bit too,  but never in a way I found as satisfying as Fandemonium.)

So anyway Luci going Full Diva. Her future is this and her future is nothing.

The longer I chew on it, the more I like it, and the more it seems like the inevitable place for Elanor Rigby’s story to go. It’s a good continuation from where we last saw her have any scrap of agency, but also frustrating in that “the lat time we saw her have any scrap of agency” was basically the entire comic ago. It was jarring to have her go from [One Sassy Line Per Issue] to [Maybe I’m The Final Boss]. Her story suffered deeply suffered from all the time she spent off screen. But despite all that, I’m very much really looking forward to whatever the fuck Laura Wilson’s going to do about this. 

I’m trying not to get my hopes up for Talk Her Down ending. It seems perfectly in line with this series to end with the moral of “sometimes, no matter how kind or brave or caring you are, people you love pick their addictions over living.” That’s a song I’ve already heard live and in person, and I don’t really want or need to hear anyone else’s studio cover.

Uh final thought on 43 is.... Minanke DOES seem to count herself as part of the 12, which still lines up with my Emily Was Also A Fake God theory (Fauxmaterasu theory? Nokami hypothesis? Amaterasuspicion?) but it does seem unlikely to actually be a Thing between now and the epilogue. shrug.

(ETA AGAIN: I had to write out my feelings on 39 and Laura’s own abdication (unpotheosis?) to properly respond to 43. So here’s a draft of another unpublished post that I fleshed out.)

I have extremely mixed feelings about chapter 39. 

First Feeling: thank fuck the pregnancy plot is over. 

Second feeling: establishing abdication as an option established a nice overarching shape to this book. Things have felt directionless for many chapters, but this does make it seem like we are back on some kind of track.

Third Feeling: kinda liking abdication as a general direction for endgame.  For most of the series, I was hoping the whole that there actually was Something Important about the recurrence, but since it's clear now that it’s basically all lies, I like this this angle well enough.

Strongest Feeling: hell fucking yes to Laura’s shaved head. 

(Tangential Feeling: buzzing your own head is good and you should think about doing it. Doing it for catharsis in a moment of crisis is A-OK, but I did it once just because I felt like it and it was fucking great. banishing your high maintenance hair does not cure depression, but it does give you back an hour of personal upkeep every day and the fuzzy head is wonderful to touch.)

Contrary to most of the fandom, though, I absolutely loathed Laura’s monologue here, and the context that it puts around her not-choice. There’s a lot of shitty Hot Takes out there about how mental illness and addition and creation intersect. A lot of people will suggest that being unhealthy makes you a better artist, and what’s more that being a better artist is worth being unhealthy.  This series is unambiguously and steadfastly against that message, which is one of the absolute best and most important things about it!  I don’t want to diminish that.

But that all said, seeing Laura alone in the dark describing “an addicts moment of clarity” was... jesus it was all kinds of personally painful and upsetting. It hurt real bad, and not in the way I though I had agreed to be hurt. And I’m not sure how to spell out why.

I have thousands and thousands of words on why it struck such a sour cord in me, but a lions share can be summed up with “fuck absolutely every story where a Troubled Girl just needed to get traumatized/humiliated/humbled enough to Realize How Bad She Was Being.” Double fuck this one in particular for showing the girl getting over addiction/mental illness by literally sitting alone in the dark thinking about how much she fucked up.  That story is tired, and cruel, and dangerous, and thank Christ I encountered this comic at 30 and not 19 because I would have swallowed it down with all the other poison that Helpful Adults fed me.

But yeah though, her shaved look is fucking adorable as shit.  Neither she nor Britany made any hair mistakes.

ETA ULTIMATE: That last bit is the one thing in this post I don’t quite still stand by. By the end, it’s clear that the above wasn’t at all the story this book was trying to tell at all. I thought WicDiv was trying to tell some Epic Truths, Hard-Facts-About-Human-Nature shit. But despite the sweeping setup (All Across The World and Through All Of History) the book was using a complex allegory for a very specific situation (Selling Your Soul and Name and Life To Creative-Industrial Machines), and that made it muddy.  

(Insert Principal Skinner meme here “Am I out of touch? Was I simply interrogating the text from the wrong perspective?  No, it’s the original creators who are wrong!”)

I’m from a family of mentally ill, addiction-prone, recovering-Catholic artists.  Laura is in my blood. Half the people I love are Laura.  I have Laura’s painting on my wall and her books on my shelf. I’ve sat with Laura’s mother a few years after Laura’s death, as her father now slowly dying in the next room, and listened to her music for the first time. (It was good. It was really good.  And I never even knew.)

These experiences colored my read, but how could they not?  

I do now, I think, understand what Gillen was trying to say- the addiction he was talking about was to stardom, the attention and accolades, and free pass to make your own shit be everyone else’s problem. I understand now that the “art” that the gods made was always supposed to be Not Real Art, that there was no true “message” from their songs- all noise, no signal. It was never about Laura’s art, or even Laura as an artist.  And that was unpleasant to reconcile.

Because when you're Laura, or Elanor, or any of them, life doesn’t have to grant your ill-advised wish before it fucks your head and kills you. Sometimes you fight as hard as you can with every fiber of your being and you’re still in Hell. Sometimes you’re doing all the Meetings and self-reflection and therapy you can manage and you’re still a Destroyer. But the shit you create while you’re down there is worthy of creating. What you do with your too-short, too-fucked time matters. A fucked up life was still worth living because it was your life to live. And... I guess, from the story presented in Faust Act and Fandemonium, I sort of thought that this was what WicDiv was supposed to be talking about. I thought it was going to be about doing something good even when life is fucking you. But instead it is a cautionary tale that  that suggests you could have stopped getting fucked at any time if you had just gotten over yourself and said the magic words.

We spent half the comic watching Laura drag herself through the mud. Half the comic was focused on Her Mistakes, when so little of her circumstances were actually her fault. “Punish Ophelia until she gets over herself” is not at all what WicDiv meant to be about. I imagine the creators would be aghast to hear that’s what I got out of it. But the text is what the text is.  While it is intended (and successful!) at being many other very good things, this one really bad thing is still part of that mix, and that sucks.

Maybe I should have picked up on the discrepancy between my read and the intent sooner. Probably I should have just done myself a favor and stop reading once I did.

2016, 2017 while my life was going a bit to shit, this comic was exactly what I needed. Being in the fandom made my life better and helped me meet cool new friends and get through some of the hardest shit to happen to me since I was a kid. Then in 2018, it slid into source of frustration and soured promise. Now at the end I have no idea if I liked it or not. 

But that’s fine, now that it’s done. The ink is dry, the ritual is over. It’s just a comic book now.  Some pictures I still love and some words I don’t always agree with. A lot of noise, arguable amounts of signal, but not a song I want to play on loop anymore.

I have no real conclusion to draw here. I respect at how firmly WicDiv rejects dark and unhealthy parts of being a professional creator- especially unhealthy things that are generally just accepted as Common Wisdom. I don’t think it took enough care in spelling out what it was rejecting, though, and I do think it was remiss in not finding good healthy things to embrace as an alternative.

All of the above notwithstanding, I have to give it credit for delivering almost exactly what I wanted in terms of lesbian nonsense. That ain’t nothing.

I give this series ?????/∞ and am happy to be safely clear of Kieron Gillen’s Wild Ride

[aiweirdness]

Harry Potter and the Neural Network fan fiction

Or, what happens if you train a neural network on the titles and plot summaries of over 100,000 works of Harry Potter fan fiction.

In the decades since the Harry Potter books were published, fans have written literally hundreds of thousands of Harry Potter stories of their own, and shared them online. Can a neural network join in on the fun?

In a way, everything a recurrent neural network writes is fan fiction. A recurrent neural network looks at an example dataset (such as the complete Sherlock Holmes stories) and teaches itself the patterns and conventions that it sees. So, if it’s given Sherlock Holmes stories, it will become obsessed with Holmes and Watson, and if it’s given knock-knock jokes, it will spend all day telling awful knock-knock jokes of its own.

Thanks to an idea by a couple of readers, some heroic work by @b8horpet in scraping (with permission) hundreds of thousands of Harry Potter fan fiction titles and summaries from AO3, and a flexible new recurrent neural network implementation by Chen Liang, the neural network’s latest obsession is Harry Potter.

The Perfect Party by iamisaac Draco has been left alone, and Ginny confused must learn and who has his best friend. They were breathed by a love that didn't become his grounds and the flowers begin.

This is a typical example of the neural network’s fan fiction - romantic pairings of two or more Harry Potter characters (called “ships” in fan fiction-speak). In this case, it even has chosen a plausible author: iamisaac is a real and fairly prolific fan fiction author whose works do tend to be of the “romantic” variety. 

The Garden by perverse_idyll for lexigilite Ron and Hermione move after a man party. What did her best things go and has to deal with people she loves? How many imperfect love really belonges them and needs to be a person? Or will they learn and more than the war? Mirror Thing by Queen_Elexhan "Are you there for a relationship? I was a sad future for your love."  Harry and Ginny find out the meaning is.

Shatters by Kis [archived by TheHexFiles_archivist ] Based on the Spot Are It Falls Into A Heir by NextrangeOnTheThree Draco and Hermione share a whole indescribbening.

Again, “perverse_idyll” and “TheHexFiles_archivist” are fairly active authors. (Hi, if you’re reading! The neural network seems to like your writing, and is writing fan fiction of your fan fiction!) Those familiar with Harry Potter fan fiction will not be surprised to learn that the neural network really likes to generate ships; pretty much every combination of characters is represented (some of the more unusual combinations being “The Snow/Voldemort”, “The Ministry/Draco Malfoy”, and “Voldemort/Random Quidditch Child”).

By turning down the neural network’s creativity setting to near-zero, we arrive at its vision of what the quintessential Harry Potter fan fiction would be like - and we also learn its favorite ship:

Persuading by theladyblack Harry and Draco are still a second chance at the end of the war.  Will they be able to do with the fairy tale of the first time they were a strange stranger to the street of the war and the war is over?

It turns out the neural network is obsessed with Harry/Draco, although in a pinch, Sirius/Remus will also do.

The neural network also seems to really like stories about Professor Snape trying to do rather ordinary things:

New Moon Boys by Dungoonke for Loki_Kukaka Severus Snape comes back to a night's politics.

In the Reason Is Blinders by LittleRoma Severus has been through his lost remote.

In The Alteri Silence by Forest_of_Holly for roscreens41 Snape receives life after plants to do by work over whether they get into. Just Hell.

A Second Chance by DarkCorgi Snape had a second thing, and that is better than anything for for the rest of his life.

Mirror by orphan_account Severus Snape tries to get a lot of dragons and that was to be more than he didn't expect to continue. He has always been a bit of an old and a baby to stay the way he'd been the brother at Hogwarts and he keeps the chance of meeting... Deception by FlyingEyes Snape is a British Robes of interesting things and worrys like a little fun and sees the pretty battle for a while.

Another thing that happened, which is pretty much my favorite thing ever, is that the neural network apparently encountered some fan fiction stories that were not in English. As a result, it learned to do this from time to time:

The Secretary Of the World  Challenge inspired by GoF and la mating resigns de la mill colors per mereple beruit carteur la pelete el wert rardo completing and herillo intus den una a des rush sentines kelta an transoles... 

Between by Cheyangel13 A series of fivers are unexpectedly depressed and controlled by the bed, with least more from una perfemale erpensa de the maesse akai suidadium dela vida call de la los se terriuus do form en sou dies de fasurard il resisted de for dogs la sementu sein prong colors itu dee adte se sige natard...

The neural network has also learned to employ capital letters:

Les finds love by violet_quill for starstruck1986 Severus Snape wanted him to be more and she likes Draco.  The person he wants an energy to him.  WHALIDE NO GEATIRE SOURR INSPE AHARMANABLISH ALL SOME TO VERY THE RERIDE!!!!!!!

secret Quidditch by snapsleert Collapse and find the second worst and very different. See Gain and Descent motivate surprising death. Unbusing one of the months: should make more bumo.choooshots. HUGULATED

And the neural network occasionally uses content warnings, although it seems to have a rather fuzzy idea about what to warn its readers about:

Better With The Broom Complicate by Margyn_Black Tonks gets more than the best girl of creation. (Rated Maturisle, mark, a violence, contract) (slash] part of themes) ferret.

Art for the Sun a Scary by disillusionist9 A collection of warnings: characters and situations of silence.

Some of the neural network’s stories, though, are just plain weird.

Harry Potter and the Painful Eyes by dark_pook A Birthday drabble about the problems and a woman who shows up a lot less than she checks at Hogwarts in the destiny to the infamous adventure of control of the Art of The Good Boy Kings With Hermione. Harry and the Blue Special Delicious by apolavia_scg An unexpected potions messaged in the world their lives are to find friendship following the day of different pagers. James and Lily come to the summer before the war.

The Perfect Cow by alafaye Severus and Hermione start a horcruxes

Art: Let Draco roll the light of the moon, and means. by Dangelanne What happens after the war. Not drawn to Draco Malfoy jumpers. Originally written in 2008.

Birds of a Saturday by SasuNarufan13 Harry Potter is drunk and discovers he is an alternate universe.

Holly theody by yesIpxdishoftlyGrinli What would be dangerous! Side Voldemort Jones does all lord off the sunshine show.

Lily Evans and the Ravenclaw of a Christmas Surprise by ci Severus angst the truth of a frighten situation for the wink.

Persuasion by Samanthian The Sorting Hat is fighting in one of the houses.

lily's family by sharkle Harry woke up in searching after a werewolf Sherlock's picnic. He is furious.

As a bonus, I leave you with some fairly-plausible screennames the neural network invented, which appear not to be taken (yet):

desire_at_the_malfoy SeverelyAshed fishlingthelovely thedarklyblue phantombeers captainingthetrain siriusly_harry DarkVoldember ChildOfAtSperble all_frogs BelladonnaLeek Sneaking_UnicornWitch bluemelooppiesweatled

[ultranos]

the two-body problem, ch. 7

A WILD CHAPTER APPEARS. NOS USES “FREE TIME” IT’S SUPER-EFFECTIVE.

title: the two-body problem fandom: Supergirl summary: When Alex signed up for the DEO, she knew she’d be putting herself at risk for Kara’s sake. Getting turned into a lutrinae was nowhere in her contract.

01: fourier transform 02: state space 03: excitable medium 04: dynamical billiards 05: horizon of predictability 06: fuzzy logic 07: recurrence plot