#bard content but at what cost

[rollforfelicity]

Why Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves Didn't Use D&D Combat Rules (And Why They Were Right Not To)

The D&D movie was really fun, and since at this point most of my friends play D&D (or at the very least other TTRPGs), almost everyone I talk to on a regular basis has also seen it and liked it. The consensus is that even though there's no "meta" that the characters are controlled by players sitting around a table, or jokes about the DM, the movie feels like D&D. The jokes feel like jokes people would make while playing. The constant pivoting from Plan A to Plan B to Plan C feels familiar to anyone who has spent an hour at a table deciding what to do, only to have a roll go sideways and screw things up. Before I get too far, I should say this post contains some mild spoilers for Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves.

What didn't feel like D&D were the fight scenes. In one scene, a Paladin quickly dispatches a group of enemies before any of the rest of the party even acts, showcasing that even though he's kind of a square, he's an incredible fighter. In another scene, the Barbarian grabs and wears a helmet in the middle of a fight, using it creatively to get the upper hand. During a fight against a gargoyle, the Bard blinds an enemy by throwing a blanket over their head, but gets pulled along with them when a loose rope wraps around his leg. These are all pretty big moments in the movie, and Rules as Written, would never happen at a D&D table, because D&D combat doesn't work like that.

Here's what I think is interesting. The vast majority of the rules of D&D revolve around combat. It's not all of the rules, but most class abilities, spells, items, and rules have a combat focus. So why does a movie that functions partially as advertisement for the game spend so little effort to replicate the bulk of the content of the base game?

In my opinion, it's because, Rules As Written (or RAW), combat in D&D is not, generally speaking, narratively satisfying. Let's look at a few reasons why.

D&D is a game where, RAW, things either happen, or they don't. If someone misses an attack, nothing happens. If someone misses a skill check, nothing happens. DMs can work with this, but in the base game, there isn't a lot of guidance for what to do when a player fails at something they're trying to do. This may seem trivial, but compare that to something like Powered By The Apocalypse, which is much more narratively focused. In those games, a full miss means the Game Master changes things up. The enemy gets the upper hand. A new danger surfaces. An NPC is put into peril. Not only does the player fail at what they're trying to do, but something else, bad for the Player Character (PC) but good for the story, happens. On a mixed success, the PC might get what they're after, but at a cost, or with a complication they weren't expecting.

This calls to mind the example of the Bard throwing a tarp over the gargoyle in the final fight of the D&D movie. That's a classic example of a mixed success. He succeeds at temporarily blinding the creature, but in the process, he gets caught up in the gargoyle's rope and is dragged along for a ride. This is a dynamic thing to happen in combat, but wouldn't happen in actual D&D. Instead, a PC would either succeed at what they're doing, and blind the creature, or fail and not blind them. You could argue that the Bard's action was the result of a Natural 1, but that also doesn't fit RAW, because the Bard does succeed as what he's trying to do, and with a Natural 1, he would have failed and been pulled along.

D&D doesn't really reward player creativity. Something like throwing a tarp over a creature wouldn't be likely to happen in a session at all, because in the actual game, it would take a full action to do that, and depending on the Difficulty Challenge (DC) the DM sets, there's a good chance of a wasted turn. Creative actions end up a huge gamble, and when you're playing a game where it could be 20+ minutes before you get to take another turn (more like an hour if you're playing with a Wizard, amirite), you're disincentivized from "wasting" your turn to do something less than optimal. You can describe what you're doing to add to the narrative, whether you succeed or fail, but that brings me to my next point.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this question from Rise Up Comus since I read it a month ago. In D&D, a player can describe all kinds of flavor to what they're doing, and there's no change to the mechanics of the game. You could read this as saying "Oh, well that means you have the freedom to do what you want!" but if you look at game design through the lens of "what kind of play does this game encourage or discourage" the takeaway I have is that description just...doesn't matter to D&D. In my experience, that can lead to a few different unsatisfactory outcomes.

Both players and DM treat combat as purely rolling, and describing only what is required. A DM announces, "The enemy wizard casts fireball, roll dexterity save, take 25 damage. Turn passes to the Rogue." Sometimes players who describe what they're doing are seen as showboating or taking up too much time. Worst case scenario, the DM penalizes descriptive players.

Some players like describing what they do, others don't. This has no mechanical effect on the game. Players who aren't descriptive might be frustrated that an already slow process is slowed down even more. Descriptive players may become frustrated because there's no mechanical benefit to what they're describing, and spend time fruitlessly arguing with the DM that focusing on a weak point of the enemy should give them advantage. I think most tables fall into this category. It's not a bad game by any means, but not everyone is there for the same reason when it comes to combat.

Rule of Cool Table! Everyone describes whatever they want, the dice rolls don't really matter! Combat is generally pretty easy because fuck the rules, if it's cool for the dragon to die based on how the fighter described the attack, even if it's only the first round of combat, hell yeah let's do it! For players who like being more strategic and enjoy the confines of the rule structure because it makes things challenging, these tables can be frustrating. (If you're familiar with Dungeons & Daddies, this is essentially how they play D&D).

Because there's no guideline in the rules, people come to the table with different expectations. Some people want combat to feel like a strategy game, where following the rules in the most optimal way (or combining rules elements in an unexpected way) is mechanically rewarding (usually measured by damage output). Some people want to describe themselves doing cool stuff! Some people don't care about their characters looking cool, but want the story to be compelling. If everyone isn't on the same page, this can lead to players ending combat feeling unfulfilled, and when combat is the bulk of a rules set, it feels strange to me that there's no guidance for DMs or players as to how to incentivize the kind of combat your table is interested in.

This leads to a situation where combat in D&D is the part of D&D that takes the longest, that the majority of spells and abilities are focused on, but it is, narratively, the least satisfying part of the game, unless the table alters the base rules significantly.

If you're not familiar with other TTRPGs, you might be thinking "Okay, but that's why the DM is allowed to do whatever they want and make up new rules! My DM gives inspiration when we describe something cool, that solves this problem!" My critique isn't necessarily of individual tables. DMs and players come up with all kinds of mechanics that aren't in the rules. My critique is that D&D is a role-playing game that essentially has no incentives, and many disincentives, for role-playing during combat. For example, RAW, characters don't really have time to communicate during their turns, as each round takes about 6 seconds. There's no time for banter or negotiation between PCs and enemies. You can see this disconnect by the way people talk about D&D. How many times have you heard people say "I love D&D but I don't like combat?" How could this rift be rectified? Let's take a look at some other TTRPGs.

In 7th Sea, if you take the time to describe how your character is doing something, you get a bonus to your dice pool. In Thirsty Sword Lesbians, when you get a mixed success on a Fight roll, you and your opponent are given narrative prompts to build tension (like flirt with or provoke your opponent). In Kids on Bikes, you can fail or succeed rolls by different number ranks, which determines how significant the successes or failures are. In Wanderhome, you get a token when you "take a moment to bask in the grandeur of the world, and describe it to the table." In Good Society, each player gets a "monologue token" which they can spend to prompt another player to deliver their Main Character's internal monologue. I just played a bad-action-movie-themed game called Action 12 Cinema, where players can boost a roll if they call out the song that would be playing during this scene of the movie, and get an even FURTHER boost if anyone at the table sings it.

Each of those game mechanics gives you an instant understanding into the mood of the game, and the kind of stories its built for you to tell. Even if you've never heard of any of those games, I bet, based on the title and the move, that you could hazard a guess as to what playing the game is like. Dungeons & Dragons certainly has rules that add to the lore of the game, and prompt you to create characters that act a certain way. But when it comes to combat, players and DMs are left to their own devices. Some may see that as a strength of the game, but I see it as a source for a lot of disappointing play experiences.

And it seems as though, at the very least, the writers of Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves thought the combat rules were narratively unsatisfying enough that they eschewed using any of them.

[larsisfrommars]

The Light Won't Die (Part 4)

Halsin x Tav

Rating: T for Teen (Canon Typical Violence)

Chapter: 4/??? (<- Prev Chapter • Next Chapter ->)

Word Count: 787

Genre: Adventure, Hurt/Comfort

Content: Halsin x Male!Tav, Fighter!Tav, actually dealing with the shadow curse now!, aforementioned canon typical violence, Bloodweave if you squint, Everyone is Having A Bad Time, near death experience.

"Tav was falling, what little light could reach through his eyelids in this accursed place vanished into nothingness. Through the pounding blood, the last thing he could hear was a familiar, bellowing roar."

———————✨🌿✨———————

One by one the torches around their unoccupied tents went out with terrifying swiftness, only Halsin’s stayed alight. Bolstered by the mace Tav now always carried with him.

“Stay close to the fire!” Halsin called to the rest of their party.

Everyone scrambled for their weapons, shoulder to shoulder, battle ready, their shadows in the firelight forming a twisted crown of humanoid shapes on the ground as they armed themselves by torch and steel.

It was from this crown the shadows took full form, ready to feast upon their strength, and more floral enemies crept along the edge of what remained of the woods.

The shadows leered hungrily at them, but it was Tav who struck first, driving down The Blood of Lathander into what passed for the head of the Wraith before him. Praying that its radiance would do more than just blind their enemy.

All became blood, spells, steel and chaos. There were at least a dozen enemies sans the Wraith that Tav had been fortunate to destroy only a couple blows. They were outnumbered and unprotected, this would not be an easy fight.

The battle felt as though it had gone on for hours, the campsite nearly slick with blood. Tav prayed that if the Wraiths had blood, it would stain the ground with equal measure. But given the glances he was afforded, he wasn’t hopeful.

Shadowheart was using nearly all of her power just to keep the party alive let alone fighting. Karlach and Lae’zel had both long since gone into a near animalistic survival mode, shredding anything that came near them.

Halsin had been restrained by two Blights, tearing a gash across his armor. He burst from their entanglements. A snarling, wrathful bear in place of the hulking wood elf.

Astarion was desperately trying to rouse an unconscious Gale as Wyll was poised to defend them both. The Blade’s sword arm was shaking. The dark necrotic magic having sapped them all of their strength, Tav included.

Tav’s attempt at assessing the fight cost him dearly. Driven back to a cliff edge by their unwanted guests. The onslaught of the undying was overwhelming. He could only hope the others were holding out as he tore his eyes away from them. Facing death head on, if he could just take out one more! Then maybe they would be safe!

But no… Tav felt himself drop to his knees without warning, the pain from hitting the ground barely registered. All he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears.

This was it then, Gods what good was this bloody mace if he could hardly hold onto it? No divine favor, no holy weapon could save him now. It was his own fault, should have seen the invisible fuckers coming, cost him an eye after all. That stupid bard!

Crack

No time left to be bitter it seems, Tav could feel the ground starting to give underneath him. He was going to fall to his death then, good, better than being taken by these things. It would be like how the nautiloid was supposed to go. Tav closed his eyes.

He was falling, what little light could reach through his eyelids in this accursed place vanished into nothingness. Through the pounding blood, the last thing he could hear was a familiar, bellowing roar.

The Druid would not, could not let Tav die. Not when it was within his power to save him.

Halsin did everything he could to curl his massive ursine body around Tav as they tumbled down the cliff side. In hindsight he was grateful there was at least some angle to it rather than a death drop. He preferred not to endure the feeling of his back snapping in two, animal form or not.

It seemed such a tumble was still enough to best a wounded Cave Bear. He felt himself lose hold of the wildshape after hitting his head a particularly sharp rock. Better his wildshape than Tav. The wounds his true form bore bellowed in protest as he & Tav continued to roll. Adding deep seated bruises to the list of injuries this battle had done him.

The bottom of the steep slope came mercilessly quick. The impact knocking the wind out of the Druid’s body. Still, his vice-like grip around the smaller man did not ease. His vision blurred, the words of his healing incantation lost as he struggled to breathe. Finding himself unwillingly joining Tav in unconsciousness.

He prayed to the Oak Father it would be brief as he slipped away, this was no place to die. Not yet. Not when things had not yet been made right. Not when Thaniel was so close to being within reach. Please…

[carrotcouple]

Book Thoughts: Cart and Cwidder by Diana Wynne Jones

*knock knock* I got it into my head that I wanted to talk about the books I read and how I felt about them and try not to spoil them so that if anyone reads this post they can pick up the book without knowing everything that happens in it.

So 'Cart and Cwidder' is from "The Dalemark Quartet". Publication wise it is the first book to have been published. Chronologically however, it is the third book in the series. I decided to read the series in publication order. For those of you who recognize the name, yes! It is the same author who wrote Howl's Moving Castle! I actually read the fourth book (chronologically and publication wise) randomly when I was a child cause I found it in a library and none of it's friends were around.

From my understanding each book in the Dalemark Quartet is about a different character's story and all these characters end up significant characters in the fourth and last book. With heavy Welsh Mythology and Celtic Mythology roots, the Dalemark Quartet is a fun vibe for those who liked Arthurian Mythology too!

Cart and Cwidder is about a family of Singers (consider them traveling bards). Moril, the youngest son of the family, is the main character. He's dreamy but level headed and rather detached from the world. He tends to go where the wind takes him. His family travels between the North and South of Dalemark often, singing songs and talking to people. The North and South have a horrible relationship and tensions are rising. War seems to be looming on the horizon.

Now that my brief summary is over, lemme talk about how I enjoyed the book, my overall impression of the characters and the themes that I gleaned from the story.

Moril was an incredibly fun character to read. His dreaminess and detachedness led to a very broad view of the story. The story was, of course, written in third person but it was through his point of view. He was fairly content to remain stagnant in that dreamy state at the beginning of the story, but when the ball starts rolling and the plot catches him, he has to learn to grow into his own person, realize that the stagnant dreaminess was his calling to pave his own path as a Singer and eventually lead him to play the blessed Cwidder. He grows in leaps and bounds in this story, hearing the music in the wind and letting it carry him.

Brid was fun! As the only daughter in the family, she was naturally closer to her mom, but she didn't quite have the same steadiness. In fact, it's mentioned on more than one occasion that she needed to be in performance mode in order to do anything in public. Yet despite being in performance mode, she had no qualms with integrating her personal emotions and her real personality into the story. It was incredibly endearing how halfway through the story, her siblings and Kialan let her take the reigns in familial stuff. She was cute and young and wore her heart on her sleeve, but she too grew by the end of the story.

Kialan, who is a boy the family takes in to travel with them briefly is prickly and annoying (to Moril and Brid) at first. He's a smart and no nonsense kind of person who is always looking over his shoulder and trying to keep himself safe. He has one goal and has been trying to achieve that goal for a long time, sometimes no matter what cost it comes at. However, by the end of the story he grows incredibly attached to Moril and Brid. Ready to trade in those self survival instincts and smarts, just for them.

There are other characters, but these three were the central ones, so I really will not talk about the others.

'Cart and Cwidder' is a children's adventure story, not unlike "The Dark Is Rising Sequence" and "The Chronicles of Narnia". So you can expect going into the story that the characters will behave like children, but will often have that beautiful view of the world that adults do not have. 'Cart and Cwidder' is actually fairly dark though, so keep that in mind going into the story.

Music was a central theme, since Moril plays a Cwidder and sings and Brid sings too. Music reaching people, telling people stories, news, about their loved ones, is something explored heavily. But music having power is explored too. How music can move mountains, stop wars, make the most alert soldier sleep, make the hardest heart melt.

It is somewhat of a coming of age or a self discovery story on Moril's end. Throughout the story he struggles with what kind of music he wants to make and what music means to him. The fact that his Cwidder holds power that deeply unsettles him adds flavor to his struggle. He learns to find himself, what he wants, acknowledges the power he holds as a person, a musician and a storyteller and also realizes what he wants to do with that.

Truth is an incredibly large part of the story that was not as obvious. But Moril has to learn to be truthful. True to himself, true to his Cwidder. He has to face the consequences of twisting the truth, the consequences of lying. With a constant opposite being shown in how his father only performs and his sister also does too and how his brother tries to share his truths, Moril has to understand what is actually truth.

And lastly, my favorite bit was a minor but nonetheless, the role of women in the story. Given the time period in the story, it is better for a woman to get married in order to be protected and safe. And we see the decisions that Moril and Brid's mother makes and how they're somewhat resentful of her at first but then they understand and realize she was just a person. And then we end up seeing it reflected in Brid as she learns and grows.

Cart and Cwidder was a super fun read with secretive bards, ancient legends, magic, songs that can move mountains, wars, conspiracy, discovery and freedom.

[dulcidyne]

Astarion x F! Redemption Dark Urge | Mature | Ch. 1 of ? | Words: 965

There is a name, the only one you can remember, but the feel of it is already nostalgic on your tongue. Sweet and sad, it is a half-faded keepsake… a name made for closeness, a name for someone’s daughter. There is love in it, you can feel that much—love and sunshine and bees humming in the late afternoon light while sunflowers sway in the breeze by the garden gate.   It is not a name for someone like you: a woman with teeth for thoughts. 

CW: Death, Mature themes If you could remember one thing, it should be this: they loved you very much, and it didn’t matter one bit. (Read on AO3)

Like the bard, it happens when the night is cold and still as corpses. You are in the kitchen standing over their bodies and the blood is already dry on the knife clutched in your tiny palms. The front of your cotton nightgown is stiff as old parchment, dusting rust-colored flecks onto the rough-hewn oak floorboards as you sway on unsteady feet.

Wisps of steam no longer rise from the earthenware rim of the mug on the kitchen table—lemon tea with a dollop of honey, to help you sleep through the nightmares.  They always brew it in this mug; your mug, you carved lopsided sunflowers into the clay before they fired it in the kiln. 

But now there will be no more lemon tea with a dollop of honey. No more shaping clay in the circle of their arms as the bees hum in the golden spill of late afternoon sunlight. No more bedtime stories or tickle fights full of breathless laughter or careful hands braiding plaits into your hair before pressing a cheek to the crown of your head over the neat part.

This gift you’ve given them—your final one—is the first with a price. It is not a hug or a kiss on the cheek or daisy chain bracelets, freely given and happily received. This is a gift that costs you everything. 

You are too young, much too young, to understand the full weight of ‘everything’. It is a concept that looms, vast and incomprehensible, over you like portentous thunderclouds and all you can do is snatch up tiny, dark fistfulls of understanding one at a time.  

The tea, the mug, the stories, the braids.

Only now do you begin to cry and these sobs are too big for you too. They shudder through you in violent spasms, wrenching your shoulders back, barrelling out of your chest so hard they knock against your fragile sternum like fists.

Already, you want to take it back. Ungive this gift, upay this price. You will do anything. You will go back into the cellar again, for days, for weeks. They can keep you there, in the dark, for as long as it takes, until the bad thing in your blood finally stiffles in the dust and impenetrable quiet. You won’t even cry, you won’t even say how much it scares you when they shut you up down there for your own good. You’ll say the prayers to Helm exactly like they taught you, bite your tongue when the bad thing makes you talk about plucking out their eyes, their hearts, their teeth. Bite it clean off if you have to.

Why didn’t you try harder? Why couldn’t you be better? 

It hurt them so much that you couldn’t. You saw their faces puffy with tears, their eyes rimmed red and swollen. You heard all their hushed conversations, the same mad ring-round-the-rosy circuits over and over and over again.

‘What do we do? She’s not getting better. I don’t know how long I can do this—I don’t know how much more of this I can take.’

‘You know what she is. We agreed we would try.’

‘I know.’ 

And then one of them would start to sob.

“Please,” you whisper now through your own sobs. But there’s no one to hear you. The bad thing in your blood is quiet, emanating rippling waves of elation through your veins, purring like a contented cat sunning in a windowsill. 

“Please!” you shriek and the current of your pulse tugs, shifting as your heart hammers in your heaving chest.

Beautiful it murmurs softly, reverently, between hitching thump-thumps, forcing your eyes back down to the only parents you have ever known.

And…it’s right. A grid of moonlight slants in from the kitchen window, rendering the scene in silver relief, like a holy relic. Your kitchen has transformed into a silent chapel and etched in pale glow, two serene faces rest in repose, wreathed in tangles of dark, like gifts on an altar. Their unblinking eyes are fixed above as if they are peering up into the dome of a cathedral invisible to you, whites round with shock so profound, it looks like awe.

It’s as if they are staring up at some exultant future. Whatever it holds, it looks peaceful. It looks like no more restless nights sobbing behind closed doors, no more faces lined with worry and fear, pinched and wan. 

A gift. The best you could have given them. The blessings of Bhaal: mercy.

You remember the burlap sack beside the well, mewling coming from inside. It took you what felt like ages to unknot the twine and release the kittens before the baker could come back and finish drowning them. 

“It’s not a kindness, what you did,” they explained to you after. “They won’t have enough to eat. No one will take care of them and they’ll only suffer.”

“Sometimes,” they’d said gently, “death is a mercy.”

Beautiful, beautiful mercy your contented blood says, soft as a sigh. 

See the smiles you’ve made for them. Look how happy you’ve made them. Happier than you’ve ever made them before. 

It’s right. They look more peaceful together in death, without you, than they ever were in life with you.  The tea, the mug, the stories, the braids.

Your sobs shut themselves up in your ribcage before bursting free into a shrill screech of rage that rattles the window panes. You seize the mug and hurl it to the floorboards; watch it shatter. 

They were good, they loved you, they deserve this. Deserve mercy and peace and blessings. Deserve to leave you here, all alone. 

And you deserve that too.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Tempted: A Mini-Muffin - a Malevolent fic

The things he'd do if he had the time...

AO3

-----------

He knew this was a trap.

It was absolutely a trap. He’d always loved creative mortals, from the first moment he saw one. Hastur still remembered his first—a little old man who'd called himself Cardis, which meant color, who’d been painting sunsets inside his cave home, using crushed insects and a judicious amount of mud. 

Oh. Oh. The yellow had drawn Hastur. The creativity had kept him (and he'd had a lovely time as long as Cardis lived). Hastur loved artists. Which, of course, was why this had to be a trap.

A trap for what, he couldn’t be sure. Maybe to distract him? Keep him from achieving his goal—from keeping everyone safe by the time his six (no, five now, it was only five) years were up.

Hastur hovered above his city, listening to the dulcet (yes, dulcet, shut up) tones of Odd the bard and his lovely violin. Late. That was the trick! He was being kept late. That was it! That was the purpose!

Hastur sighed. Obviously, that wasn’t the purpose. He just didn’t know what was.

He was wasting time thinking about this. He needed to go. Deal with Yag’thlip before that asshole signed that contract with the Fomorians and threw the balance of the Dreamlands completely off. 

Odd changed keys; it was minor now, sweet, an oddly soothing sound—something to mourn to, releasing sorrow like pus from a wound. A healing sound.

What a strange thought to have.

No. No, this was just… distraction. Yes. Nonsense to keep him overly busy, juggling too many balls.

He wished it hadn’t been this way. What he would have done to Odd if things had been normal…

It would start with a stage. The bard clearly didn’t want gifted honor or glory, didn't want to be carried around, lauded, waved at people like a banner. Hastur would provide the venue, so this demigod (who, amusingly, did not know that he was one) could perform, and sing, and charm everybody, guiding his audience through laughter and tears and tremendous stories. Odd would summon praise like the suns summoned flowers, and that was what he wanted.

Then, Hastur would give him security. Protections, allegiance, the ability to travel safely on the road without fears of enemies or bandits or what-have-you. He’d even clean up those few tiny little illnesses the Bard had picked up along the way—nothing major, just magical hangers-on as tended to cling to those on the Path.

Third, he would give Odd a soft, perfect place to lay his head when he wished. A place to land, to come home to, with all the luxury he could possibly want, where he could grow content and plump and happy, leaving when he wished (a golden cage lost its appeal if the door closed tight) to spread skill through the Dreamlands.

Then, Hastur would… well. He’d keep Odd very, very physically satisfied. That would be half the fun. He’d ruin him. Nobody else could ever compare. That’s right; no other touch, anywhere, in all the magical world could ever—

What was he doing? There was no time for this!

That kind of attention took a while. That kind of attention took focus. That kind of attention… was fully out of reach. Hastur had five years. Less than, now.

Funny, in a way; he’d considered fully conquering the Dreamlands so many times, but for whatever reason, he never had. Well. That choice was costing him now, and he was scrambling.

He listened a moment more, softly harmonizing under his breath. No; Odd was… free. He’d run off eventually, and never have any of those lovely things even though he deserved them. Maybe someone else would come along to provide. Hastur could not. He dared not. Dallying for his own sake and costing Faroe her future was simply not an option.

His sigh was heavy, and he drooped as he flew away, toward the Southern Sea. At least he could imagine. At least he could ensure Odd left with his pockets quite full of gold. Beyond that…

He had no time. There was no time. He had no time for that.

Such a pity he did have time for regret.

---------

Notes:

Boy, it’s been awful quiet around here lately. Positively introspective…

[m3rricat]

You Do Not Have To Be Good - Ch. 9

Story summary: Four months after the defeat of the Netherbrain, Astarion finds himself stuck in the mire of his past and all the anger and despair that comes with it. While wrestling with her traveling-companion-turned-lover’s misery, Cat makes an impulsive decision that sets off their first falling-out. This post-game short story is told alongside the full in-game story of the evolving relationship between Cat (the not-a-bard) and Astarion (needs no introduction) which varies from canon. Told from both POVs.

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 9: finally getting to the graveyard bonk, y'all

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

Chapter Content Warnings: explicit sexual content, menstruation

Word Count: 9485

Read on AO3

A/N: The second-to-last chapter and the finale of the in-game story. Doing something a bit different with the 7k spawn plotline because I want to. Enjoy the extra-long chapter!

__

Cat doesn’t know why she is suddenly drawn to this particular opening, yawning across from where they all decide to stop and regroup just outside of Cazador’s ritual chamber. There had been plenty of other doorways and egresses on either side of their path as the companions had rushed along. Some were original to these ancient green-lit dwarven ruins under the shabby palace, and others rough-hewn, like crude wounds, clearly made centuries later.

Cat gets up from where she sits after checking over her kit and walks away from where the group is strewn about doing last pre-battle preparations. Across this cavernous vestibule of the ritual chamber is a lofty entryway of dwarven-make, a few yards tall and twice as wide, with new crude iron bars set into it, running from top to bottom at narrow intervals. Conspicuously, there is no gate. No exit. As Cat looks at it, her stomach clenches in fear. Her instincts tell her to avoid, avoid at all costs. But her feet stay planted of their own accord.

She doesn’t hear if anyone has come over to see what she’s peering at so suddenly. She squints, disoriented by what she sees at first through the bars, down the smooth-stoned hallway. Until she realizes—she is seeing a narrow slot of something massive. The hallway, several yards down, abruptly opens up onto a much larger area. She is looking across a wide expanse and seeing it from a distance—steps. Steps angling down, like she was standing at one of many entrances onto a great, sickly-lit amphitheater. And it is silent.

But, it is not empty.

Cat steps closer. There are dark clumps of… something, uneven piles up and down the steps. To one side, there is a massive tumble of whatever jumbled mess the something is, as if it had been tossed down from above—and Cat inhales sharply as she realizes. Bones. Piles and piles of them, some clean with age, others with unfortunate flesh still clinging.

And then, in the distance, one of the corpses unfolds itself from the heap.

It raises its head. Casts about for a moment—and then its glowing red eyes snap to Cat. Immediately it sends up a screeching wail echoing through the chamber, the sound of which lodges permanently in Cat’s brain.

It is the start of an avalanche. Other bodies begin to emerge from the piles of refuse: crawling, stumbling, or running across the cascade of steps, making their way around to the bars where Cat stands. She jumps in surprise as the first ones burst into the passageway before she expected them to—it must have been the ones closer, the ones she could not see above and below the passage. She can hear the rumble of their coming. And she freezes as every fiber of her body tells her she is very much prey.

“Get back!” Astarion snaps, grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her behind him as the tide of bodies hits the bars and rebounds in a howl, a magic barrier flashing at each point of their contact. Astarion’s fangs are bared, his eyes full of anger and confusion as he stares wildly at the mass of skeleton-thin bodies, all naked or near enough, all with eyes glowing red and slavering mouths filled with needle teeth.

After an eternity, Cat hears a choked whisper from Astarion. “Spawn… he made them spawn…”

And that is when she sees his façade of feverish confidence start to come apart at the seams.

It had all started that first night in sight of the Gate, almost a week ago now. Astarion had come to her all wide, sweeping gestures and pitched-up voice when he explicitly proposed, for the first time, that he take Cazador’s place as the Ascendant Vampire in his hellish ritual. He had veered wildly from seething sarcasm to almost manic glee as he went over his rehearsed points. The Astarion that Cat had come to know so deeply had retreated back into his old self, held tenuously together by performance after performance.

She had known this conversation would come. She had seen how very pensive Astarion had been after Raphael regaled them with the details of the ritual and its result. Cat had only spoken to Astarion about it neutrally, asking him about his thoughts on it far more than giving her own. Because she herself did not know quite how to feel about it. Or, at least, that is what she told herself back then.

But as Astarion grew more and more anxious and frayed as they moved through the city, Cat’s conviction had become more and more set as she stopped lying to herself out of fear of losing him. This ritual, this diabolic Rite of Profane Ascension—she would not agree to help him do it.

The cost of his fellow spawn’s lives and the Hellish origins of the ritual had given her pause from the start. But after she and Astarion had confronted Dalyria and Petras in the flophouse, Astarion’s words to her were what cemented Cat’s choice.

It was after that incident that Cat had first tentatively pushed back against Astarion’s desires. Asked if he was really prepared to kill them for it—his brothers and sisters. He had talked around and around: said he pitied them in one breath and then in the next spoke as if they were already doomed, and that rather than to elevate Cazador, wouldn’t it be better for them to serve a… higher purpose? He had gestured to himself as he said it with a disturbing smile. And that’s when all the bits underlying Cat’s uneasiness had clicked into place.

Because surely beyond the fact that Astarion would have to climb over the bodies of his siblings to complete the ritual, there had to be some other cost. And Cat thought she saw it in that moment, when she watched Astarion happily referring to himself as taking Cazador’s place on a pile of corpses. Inheriting his position—and what other of his master’s evils would come with that? It chilled Cat to the bone, like she was seeing a glimpse of the future. And it resolved her to her decision. She carried it in her stomach like a stone.

And the weight of Cat’s choice grows now as she watches the scene unfold between Astarion and the ravenous spawn, baying for her living blood. She learns from Astarion’s halting words that what she is looking at is the product of his and his siblings’ work over the centuries—the victims they had dragged back at Cazador’s command. They are all in there, even the thousands who were now no more than scattered bones. Gale is able to identify the barrier—a spell of infernal origin that can corral souls. Cat swears now she can see them like slight distortions, feels the press of them along with the bodies against the bars.

“Not seven….seven thousand souls, bound to the ritual,” Astarion breathes as he sees the brands on the spawn so much like his own. Cat can see that the revelation hits him like an earthquake. The pile of corpses he must climb has grown to a mountain. Surely, he must see that—

Astarion suddenly bolts, half scrabbling on his hands and feet, half running along the wall of the antechamber away from the howling churn of spawn. He collapses to his knees against a cold stone wall, bathed in the harsh green light from the sconce above. Cat goes to him.

“I—I did that,” he mutters as Cat bends down over him. “All of the ones I lured, they ended up in there. He didn’t just kill them the same night. They—they suffered, I cannot imagine—and some still suffer after centuries…”

“The ritual will kill them now, and damn all those souls to Hell,” Cat says as steadily as she can manage. Astarion’s eyes flick up to hers.

“Yes,” he breathes. “But—but it would be for the best. Can you imagine, hundreds of spawn like that, the terror they would cause? No, for the best…”

Cat looks at him hard. Her stomach is clenching. But she must. “You’d do that? Deny them the chance at freedom that you got?”

“I’m not like them!” Astarion snaps. “I’m not so—so wretched—”

“They were innocent victims.”

“Yes,” he hisses. “I can’t deny—”

“I could have been one of them, if we had met differently,” Cat says quietly, willing the blow to land.

Astarion stares up at her in horror. “Don’t—don’t say that! Please, I don’t want to think,” he stops, taking a shuddering breath. “I had thought—after what Cazador did to you, he would order me to—to bring you in… gods, I—” He drops her gaze.

Cat crouches down. Looks him in the eye. And she says, “please don’t do this. This isn’t… you.”

Astarion looks back at her, face full of fear. “But, it should be,” he whispers, voice quavering between question and statement, leaving it hanging uneasily between them.

But then the moment is gone before Cat can seize on it. He stands abruptly. “Come on—he’s close. We need to end him. Now.”

The battle with Cazador is brutal for how brief it is. The companions are a well-oiled machine by now, and the ability to prepare ahead of time for a fight with a powerful undead means that they are ready for his onslaught. He traps Astarion in the ritual briefly at the outset, but Astarion is freed just as quickly with a well-placed Dimension Door, allowing Cat to rescue him from his restraint, and for him to join the fight.

But as Astarion drags Cazador out of his healing trance to deliver the final blow, Cat feels that the real struggle is now beginning.

“Help me,” he begs her, voice husky and raw. He is bare-chested, breathing ragged, standing over a delirious Cazador. “If I carve my scars onto him, I can use him in my place—”

“Foolish boy,” Cazador suddenly splutters, coughs wracking his ravaged body. “Do you think I would have allowed such a thing to happen—”

“Silence!” Astarion bellows. He turns back to Cat, eyes pleading. “Cat, help me, show me the scars off my back…” his words die as he sees her face.

Cat braces herself. “No. I won’t help you do that.”

“But Cat—” Astarion hisses, tense. But after a moment he lets his shoulders slump. Tries another tack. “If I ascend, I’ll finally be free—truly free. I’ll be safe, from anything and everything. Isn’t that—isn’t that what you want, for me?”

Cat looks at him, her face carefully calm. “I won’t help you get a power that will just trap you, just like Ca—”

“Don’t you dare compare me to him!” Astarion snarls, unraveling in rage before her eyes.

Cat tries to breathe, tries to think. The smell of so much blood is nauseating. Astarion’s chest is heaving, sucking in great gulps of it. How much more intoxicating it must be to him, how the swirling power of the ritual on the verge of completion must be singing in him with infernal promise—

She has to get him away. Has to get him to a place where he can think—

Cat looks up at Astarion in apology. Her tadpole thrashes and reaches for his.

A blink and a searing stab of pain later, and Cat is alone with Astarion on a sharp blue winter morning amidst the sea of faded grass, rustling slightly in the cold-clean breeze. They stand on the path running along the dike toward the southern bounds of the Delta. Now and then a bird wings above, crying plaintively, but otherwise, there is nothing else in the world but them.

Astarion looks around wildly. “Cat, what in the hells—what did you do—”

“You need a clear head,” she begins, hands clenching and unclenching by her sides. “I need you to hear me out, and you can’t do that practically drowning in blood and hell-magic.”

“There is nothing to discuss! This ritual will give me the power to be free. Free from—from fear, from hunger. Cat,” he steps toward her, looking at her wide eyed. His voice drops to nearly a whisper. “I will keep you safe. I’d have the power to keep you safe from anything.”

Cat remains stock-still. “Astarion. This power—you’d damn thousands of souls to get it. That would mark you forever. You’d carry that with you, forever. And it would drive you mad.”

“Why—why are you talking like you know anything at all? You know no more than I do, and that certainly isn’t written in stone!” He snaps, his pleading turned to scorn in a blink.

“No, I don’t know. But this whole thing has tasted bad from the beginning. Anything that requires sacrifice of innocents like this cannot be good for your soul.” Her careful expression starts to slip, and she looks at him with resignation, but under it, a deep painful well of affection. “I can only do what I believe. And I will not help you do this.”

Astarion stares back at her. “Cat,” he says at last, a crack cutting through his voice. “You love me. Don’t you?”

Cat stiffens. But after a long pause, she answers with the truth. She couldn’t say anything different. “Of course I love you.”

“Then you’ll help me.”

Cat balls her fists at her sides. She looks him full-on, willing the tears not to fall. “I won’t. I won’t help you act in—in fear. This is all the fear in you coming out. You’ve known nothing else for so long. And I understand,” she inhales. Exhales trembling. “If this is the end for us, then—I’ll be devastated. I won't lie. But I’d rather that, than… than lie to you about what I feel, cling to you out of my own fear. We’d both be trapped, if I help you do this.” She squeezes her eyes shut as the sob rises in her throat. “And I love you too much to let that happen.”

They stand in silence for a long time under the cold, distant sun. Astarion looks up at it, at her memory of the sky that painfully clear day when she left home forever. “I’ll lose the light. Again.”

Cat wants to close the distance, wants hold him fast. But she forces herself to stay still. “I’ll get it for you again. I’ll stay with you—we’ll travel, we’ll find a way. I promise.”

As Astarion turns to her, his eyes meet hers, the light refracting through the red so beautifully—

—Cat stumbles as her mind whips back to the chamber full of blood and fear and the taste of Hell. Astarion is bent over Cazador as he tries to get his bearings back, panting as everything floods his senses again.

He doesn’t look up at Cat. He only has eyes for his master writhing at his feet. And then, without warning, he sets to work.

Over and over he stabs his blade into the screeching wretch. At first Astarion yells in unleashed anger in time with the plunging dagger, but as the flying blood coats him thicker and thicker, as Cazador’s convulsions fade into mere involuntary twitches, Astarion’s yells turn into cries. Of pain, of abject misery, flooding out of his body as surely as the blood pooling under his master’s corpse.

Astarion falls to his hands and knees. He is gasping for breath, but soon he is heaving, and the sobs wrench themselves from his body. He howls.

Cat’s instinct is to turn away, make everyone turn away—let Astarion spill his guts where no one can see him so raw, so vulnerable. No one should be allowed to see—but she can’t do that. So she stands sentinel over him. Witnesses his writhing, pain-filled transformation as he lets himself realize the one who tormented him for the whole of his life, who was his life, lies dead in front of him.

Astarion sits back as the sobs subside. The tears on his face trace tracks through the drying blood. Cat steps tentatively towards him, but he abruptly stands up before she gets close. Sways. “Let’s leave. I can’t stand it...” he mutters, turning for the stairs. Slowly he totters towards them. Cat and the rest follow in his wake like funeral mourners.

“Close your eyes, I’m going to wet your hair—” Cat murmurs, putting her hand carefully to Astarion’s forehead as she pours from the bucket of clean water over his blood-encrusted curls. He bows as the hot water washes over him, down his scarred back, into the murky depths of the tub. He still says nothing.

Astarion had gradually lost his words as they moved away from the ritual chamber earlier that night. There had still been a decision to make—a heavy one. The few hundred remaining unliving spawn stared at Astarion warily as he approached their bars with Cazador’s staff in hand. Cat had no idea what he was going to do—the staff held the power to free them from their cage, but it also could kill them. Which might have been a mercy, and a mercy on the city’s population given the ravenous, bottomless hunger in each of them.

Astarion had lifted the staff wordlessly. Then, the two children had emerged from the crowd.

They were spawn, like the rest, with their red eyes and shark teeth. Astarion faltered. You, he had said simply. And then the two children, a boy and a girl, started screaming.

He had abducted them, they shrieked. Taken them from the Gur at Cazador’s orders not long before he himself had been taken by the mindflayers. Astarion bowed under the weight of their wrath, their cries of hunger. Then—the spawn around the children put their hands on their shoulders gently, murmuring to them in a bid to comfort, such an unexpected warm gesture that it shocked Cat.

These spawn, who tore apart most every new arrival in their never-ending rage, their blind drive to feed on anything and everything, had spared these children. Cared for them in what meager ways they could. Despite their unending nightmare, a spark of compassion still remained in their desiccated bodies. Cat stepped forward. Looked sidelong at Astarion’s face. His teeth had been clenched, his eyes bloodshot, staring for a long time at the scene playing out before him. He then turned to his siblings who had been following at a distance.

And he had charged them to take the wretches down, down into the Underdark. Let them feed there, let them figure out how to live. His siblings, whether from their own shock or confusion or something more noble, agreed to be their escort. Without another word Astarion had flourished the staff, and Cat felt the magical barrier fall. Felt a sudden rush as the miasma of souls dissipated. The bars had remained, but Astarion still took Cat by the hand and led her away quickly from the hungry mouths behind them.

Despite her own hazy mind, Cat had still managed to order a bath to be drawn in one of the group’s rooms when they arrived back at the Elfsong. She looks now at Astarion with his soaked hair, realizing she had never seen it wet before, without any curl. His ears—they stand out so prominently that Cat feels a smile tug at her lips. No, not now. Not while he is so delicate, while his mind is still making sense of this new world.

Cat brushes a stray hair that escaped from the kerchief she had tied around her head when she stripped off her own armor and went to work on Astarion. She works the gentlest soap she could find into his hair, loosening the crusty blood. After a thorough massaging, she rinses it out before applying conditioning oil. She does not know whether to do it at only the ends or to the root. She should ask. But she is afraid to hear him speak.

She oils the ends. Begins to scrub the rest of him. Runs her cloth and her hands over the expanse of his skin, trying to be firm and businesslike. She does not want any part of her to ask anything of him. She hesitates at his back scars—but they are as coated with filth as the rest of him. So she holds her breath and works quickly, keeping on alert for any flinch, any freeze. But Astarion remains slumped where he sits, breathing shallowly every now and then.

His face. Cat needs to ask. So she gently pushes aside the hair that has plastered itself on his forehead. Holds up a clean cloth. “Should I? Or do you—?”

By way of answer, Astarion bows his head toward the cloth and closes his eyes. She gently wipes, first with water, and then with soap, then rinses it. This face she knows so well—every quirk, every expression it makes.

But she can’t tell what he’s feeling. She doesn’t know if he loves her or hates her or feels nothing for what she refused to do. All she knows is she wants to clean it off him, the filth and despair of that place. Gruffly she asks him to stand—the water is too dirty, she needs to wash the rest of him piecemeal as he steps out.

Cat finishes and immediately goes to wrap his drooping form in a towel. He clings at it with sudden movement, holding it around his shoulders with trembling hands. Without pausing, Cat takes another towel and tosses it over his dripping hair, massaging and scrunching to soak out the water, then ruffles it over his whole head. It will have to be good enough—Cat does not trust herself with prestidigitation to dry it in her emotional state; likely, she would explode the room instead.

She goes to lift the towel from where it lies over his face. His gorgeous eyes meet hers as she uncovers them. He looks at her, not through her, for the first time tonight. But that is all he gives; his only expression is bone-deep weariness. Cat tries on a tentative smile in place of her real desire to smother his face with kisses.

But she doesn’t even wait for a reaction from him. Fears it. She continues to dry him, then bustles over to grab the clean nightshirt and trousers she had bullied the others into scrounging up. Astarion takes them from her wordlessly without prompting. Once he has dressed, he heads over to sit on the bed while Cat goes back behind the screen to wash herself. The large tub is far too filthy, so she contents herself with a quick sponge bath with the remaining bucket of clean water. She rushes as if Astarion will flee at any moment, pulling on her shift as soon as she is barely dry enough and then dashing out from behind the screen.

But she freezes as uncertainty hits her again. Astarion sits on the edge of the bed, hands clenched around each other. He stares down at them. Cat takes one step and then another, carefully, until she stands in front of him.

“Do you—” her voice quivers at the edge of a whisper. “Do you want me… here? Or, should I…”

His head tilts up slightly. A pause, and then his hand reaches out, takes one of hers. Slowly he clambers back on the bed, pulling her with him.

In the end he lies on one side, Cat on the other, facing each other. He keeps his hand on hers, his eyes fluttering closed almost immediately into a true sleep. Cat isn’t surprised he wouldn’t want a reverie tonight. She watches him for what must be hours as the candles burn down—so wasteful, but she does not dare move. Barely dares to breathe, for fear of shattering the delicate image in front of her.

Cat is awakened by the sunbeam crawling across her face. It blinds her bleary eyes for a moment, and for that moment she sees the image that has been burned into her mind after last night—Astarion curled up peacefully across from her.

But she blinks, and he’s gone.

Cat snaps up, staring at the indentation where he had been as if she will find him somewhere in it. Her breathing slows as she realizes how silly she’s being—it’s normal, Cat, for people who wake up to get out of bed. But then the folded scrap of paper on his pillow catches her eye.

She snatches it, opens it. It reads, simply, “Don’t come after me. -A.”

Cat feels as if her heart is being strangled as her eyes rake over it again and again. What—what did he mean? Don’t come after me, because I’ll be back? Or did he mean—gods.

A gout of anger suddenly rises in her chest. Would it have killed him to write a few more words in his looping, beautiful script? Of course he wrote beautifully; now she would feel more shamed over her chicken-scratch letters.

Cat paces. Runs her hands down her face. Then in a flurry of activity she gets dressed, furiously combs and does up her hair, screams ‘fuck’ into a pillow, and walks as calmly to their common room as she can manage.

Everyone knows something is up. Cat’s unnaturally high-pitched announcement that Astarion had gone out and no, she didn’t quite know when he would be back fools no one, and Cat knows it. But she can’t bring herself to care. Thankfully, everyone seems content to let her keep pretending.

They have an odd assortment of tasks to choose from. Among other things, they could continue tracking down that Bhaalist cult murderer, or relatedly, they could collect more parts of that clown that had been one of the victims. The latter gets vetoed quickly without Astarion there to counter with “who doesn’t want to savor the horrid, painful death of Dribbles who, as a clown, deserved nothing less?”

Ultimately they decide to track down more of the Bhaalist murderer’s would-be victims in the hopes that he would show, reasoning that at least this venture might lead to Orin’s bolt-hole. By that afternoon, the companions find themselves rudely interrupting a wine tasting, blasting away at the shape-changing killer and, unfortunately, just missing him.

They are all sagging afterwards, still feeling the fatigue from the battle with Cazador the day before. The demoralization from their failure today also doesn’t help. Without any spoken agreement, they all start slowly walking back toward the Elfsong.

In the end it is Lae’zel who grabs Cat by the proverbial scruff to figure out what is going on. It is early evening and they are all sitting silently around a table on the main floor of the inn, sipping their drinks of choice, when Cat abruptly begs off and starts to head upstairs. Lae’zel outflanks her and stops her at the top landing.

Cat tries to stay matter-of-fact about it. Feels slightly gratified that Lae’zel rolls her eyes when she sees Astarion’s abrupt note. Fool, she mutters. And then she fixes Cat with her astounding stare. And you’re a fool, too, if you think he is not coming back.

Cat opens her mouth to reply, but Lae’zel shushes her in her way that is impatient yet not unkind. She then openly sniffs Cat. Demands to know if she washed—chk, no, a true bath. Stalks away from Cat before Cat is done talking and manages to summon a bath from the Elfsong staff in record time. She shoves Cat back into her room and forbids her to emerge until she has washed properly.

Cat would dearly like to wallow in the tantalizingly hot water. But unfortunately, her monthlies had decided to arrive the day before yesterday, so her flow was in full swing right now and would muddy the bath in minutes. Lovely.

Cat feels bloated and crampy and gross. She washes quickly, leaving aside her hair because she doesn’t have it in her to do it all, and she had miraculously avoided the copious blood spatters of yesterday and today. Looking longingly at the hot bath, Cat finds a middle ground to enjoy it, soaking a towel in the hot water and laying it on her stomach as she goes to work to at least run through her hair with a fine comb and clean what she can with that. It really is getting too long, she decides. She resolves for a moment to chop it tonight. But what if he comes, and—?

She repeats that stupid last line to herself in a high-pitched mocking voice as she continues to furiously comb out her hair. So what if? What if he comes back?

… Should he come back?

Her mind catches on a stray line Cazador sneered after he had snatched Astarion into the ritual, something about how Astarion can’t help himself—how Cazador and then Cat became the center of his world, the masters of his misery, and he would always come back to them like the pathetic animal he was.

The comparison that monster made between himself and her had roiled her stomach. Because an ugly part of her wondered if maybe he was right. If Astarion had held fast to her out of dependency more than anything. Maybe Astarion should just… go. Really start over, with people who did not know all about the horrors of his past, who wouldn’t look at him with any pity in their eyes. Maybe he would be happier, then. Maybe he would truly be free.

The sun is sinking. Cat has no intentions of leaving this room at all, actually, Lae’zel. She throws her hair into a messy braid. Pulls on a clean shift.

As the hour passes, Cat paces from window to window, looking out at the darkening city. The light is dying quickly. In the end she stands looking toward the west, watching the last line of it on the horizon shrink into nothing and disappear. She sighs, like the end of the light is the end of her watch for him.

“My hero, brooding in the dark?”

Cat spins wildly, sees the glint of his eyes before anything else as her sight adjusts. It is all she can do not to burst into tears on the spot. “You came back,” she chokes out at last.

“I did.”

Cat waits maddening moments for more. But it doesn’t come. The anger flares in her again. “Just tell me, damn it. I can’t take this—kiss me or kill me or—”

Astarion strides over and picks option one with a will. Cat clings to him through the kiss as her eyes start to well, as she starts sobbing into his mouth. He breaks off and rests his forehead on hers. Cat takes shaky breaths as her crying subsides.

 Astarion’s eyes shut suddenly. “Cat. Thank you,” he breathes, squeezing her shoulders.

Cat can see the emotion shuddering through him, overtaking his practiced façade. After a steadying moment, he moves his head from hers. His eyes flicker over her tear-stained face.

“Gods,” she blurts out. “I thought, I thought you weren’t…”

“Cat—” he says, looking at her so earnestly, “yesterday, in that chamber, I… I did hate you in that moment. When you stood your ground. Even though I knew you were right about the ritual. I hated that you saw me as I was. That you… wanted me as I was. Told myself you were trying to keep me weak. Even afterwards—I didn’t know how to feel.”

Cat looks into his eyes. She doesn’t have to know, is scared to know, but she still asks. “When you left this morning, did you know you were coming back?”

Astarion sighs. Drops her gaze. “Yes. And—no. I told myself first I was just going to clear my head. But then I kept remembering how angry I had been. It took a while. A long while to sort out how I really felt.”

Cat lets the tremor of her past fear move through her. It had not been wholly wrong. “I suppose it took you a short time, all things considered.”

He moves his hands from where they hold her shoulders to rest on her hands laying on his chest, rubbing absently over them with his thumbs. “I’m still… scared,” he says at last. “Scared of what’s to come with what little I have, but—I still have myself, after all that. And,” his eyes meet hers, “rather presumptuously, I thought I might also have you.”

He’s looking at her all shy, all bared hope—eyes wide, features soft. Like when she kissed his hand tenderly back in Moonrise. And like then, it pierces right through her. “Always,” she says, and means it from the bottom of her soul.

Finally, he lets a trembling smile ghost across his face. He bows his head, kissing her fingers. When he looks up, he is smiling fully, with a sudden spark of anticipation. “Would you mind—could I show you something? Out in the city. It’s not far.”

She tilts her head. “What is it?”

“Just… something I’ve never shown anyone before.”

They don’t say much on the walk there, some twenty minutes from the Elfsong. Cat had thrown on a skirt, stockings, shoes, and a jacket, but had foregone her stays in her impatience to see exactly what Astarion was being so cagey about. When she had turned for the door, Astarion had been there with a shawl and draped it on her shoulders, saying that it was rather chilly out, with the wind off the water. He had been right. Spring in Baldur’s Gate was a fickle thing. The day had been warm, but the nights had not caught up yet.

They wind their way through the quiet streets, heading west. Now and then one of them reaches for the other’s hand absently for a brief touch or grasp, renewing the connection that had tenuously been restored. Eventually Astarion leads them into the Lower City’s single cemetery—clearly for the higher-born of this lesser place. It was far too small to hold any significant percentage of the dead from here over the centuries.

Astarion stops in front of one overgrown headstone. Turns to Cat. “Did you ever see any memories of this?” He asks quietly. Cat shakes her head. Astarion nods. “Good. I’m glad you never felt how I felt, here.”

A moment later, Cat thinks she realizes what this is, and a prickle runs up her spine. “This grave—this is yours?”

Astarion gazes down at the tufts of long grass covering plot. The weeds growing up over the face of the headstone, obscuring the epitaph. “Yes. Where I was laid after I died. And… where I woke up. To my new nightmare.” He continues to stare, eyes seeing back two hundred years to that night. “He made me crawl out of it. Up through six feet of dirt, choking on it as I clawed my way up. Retching up congealed blood when I broke the surface. And he… he was there. Waiting for me. From that night on, I was his.”

Cat stands beside him, arms crossed and hands tucked in her shawl as her eyes crawl over the deceptively peaceful-looking grave. Green with life.

“How does it feel now,” Cat says suddenly, “now that you’re free?”

His lips twitch up in an unconscious smile like she had hoped as her words bring him back to his brand-new reality. “I don’t quite know yet,” he starts, wonderingly. “Overwhelming. And… rather terrifying, if I’m honest. So many possibilities. So many choices, now. It’s… exhilarating.” He looks up to where clouds scuttle across the waxing moon. “I get to… be a person now, don’t I? I get to decide who I am. What I want.”

Astarion is silvery-pale in the moonlight, but he looks more alive than Cat has ever seen him. So unsure, but so eager. “Hm. I should fix this,” he murmurs, glancing sidelong at Cat with a playful glint in his eyes before he crouches in front of the headstone. He cleans the growth off it carefully. And then he pulls his dagger out of the sheath on his belt and sets to work scraping something below the worn epitaph. Cat moves forward, kneels down next to him to see what he’s adding. It’s today’s date, written under his old date of death. A new beginning.

He sits back once he’s done. Turns to her. His face softens into something like apology. “My dear Cat,” he says, taking one of her hands in his. “I left you in the lurch rather, didn’t I?”

 “You mean—the note? Or, not talking to me last night? Or…”

“I goaded you into confessing your feelings, when we were in your head,” Astarion says, shifting his seat to face her fully.

Cat takes his hand in both of hers. Traces the veins on the back of it absently. She feels her heart pattering against her ribs. “It… wouldn’t have taken much goading. It’s been sitting on my tongue a while, now.”

She looks up at him to see his easy smile falter, and then he is pulling her into him and kissing her fervently and deep, leaving her gasping. He breaks off, holding her close and nuzzling into her hair.

“I suppose I should’ve realized, when you told me you wanted us to share your blood always,” he murmurs, a breath of laughter in his words.

Cat sighs smiling, her head cradled in the crook of his neck. “I suppose you should’ve.” On sudden hot impulse, she presses her lips to his beautiful neck, and then she is kissing upwards, letting her teeth graze the cool skin. Astarion shivers under her mouth as she noses under his jaw.

“Gods,” he breathes, “Cat—I can feel how hungry you are.”

Cat lifts her head away from his neck with effort. She is so full of him, fit to burst. But she wants more so much she cannot speak.

As he watches her watching him, his pupils widen, widen so far his ruby-red irises are thin rings. He looks bestial, black stare boring into her, and it makes her insides melt. He raises a trembling hand to cup her cheek. Brushes his thumb over her parted lips. “I feel like prey, when you look at me like that, darling. In the most exquisite way,” he whispers hoarsely. “But, I was thinking that I might devour you tonight, instead.”

Cat leans into his hand, lips brushing his thumb as she asks, “what do you mean, exactly?”

“I mean…” he trails off. His feral eyes flick down, then back up again. “You’ve been smelling more and more delicious these past couple days.”

“Wh—” she snaps her mouth shut as realization hits. She can feel the blood rising in her face. “Oh, of course you can smell it. And you want to… hells.”

“Very much,” he purrs, lips curling upwards.

“You know it’s… not all blood.”

He chuckles. “I am aware. But it smells mouth-watering, all the same.”

Cat can still feel herself blushing fiercely. “Um,” This was going to be such a stupid question. “Is this… just a feeding? Because, I remember what you said about sex, and—”

“Oh, my dear, I very much intend to make you come several times in the process.”

Cat bites back an undignified noise. Astarion is looking at her with utter adoration, tinged with amusement. He continues. “I appreciate how thoughtful you’re being, really. But… I want this here, with you.”

Cat pauses. Glances around. Astarion frowns. “What is it? I know it’s rather… open, but. I can’t imagine who else will come creeping around.”

Cat sighs dramatically. “Well, I suppose there’s enough dead bodies around here for us to—"

Astarion laughs and pulls her to him, kissing her again and grinning into it. “You minx. Maybe it doesn’t have quite the ambiance of that altar, and the bodies are less fresh, but…”

Cat smiles. Gives him another peck. “It’s perfect.”

Astarion starts to kiss her again lazily, his arm winding around her back as he moves on top of her. Cat lowers herself down beside the headstone, on top of the shawl that had fallen from her shoulders. Bracing on his hands above her, Astarion moves his mouth down her body; to her neck, her collarbones. As he gets to the edge of her shift just at the rise of her breasts, he raises his eyes up questioningly.

“Uh,” Cat laughs. “No, thank you. Not about to strip down out here.”

“Fair enough,” he says, smiling. He doesn’t seem to mind in the least, sitting back on his knees and beginning to run his hands up one of her stockinged legs to where her garters are tied, just below the knee. His hand hovers at the bow, set to untie it, but in the end he seems to cheekily decide to keep them on, slowly hiking up Cat’s skirts instead.

She shivers at the cool air brushes her thighs. But as Astarion noses against her knee and trails kisses upwards, she stiffens. Without warning, memories come flooding back of one of her first times, with another student at the music academy. Later, she had conformed to the expectation, but coming from where she did, Cat had had no notion of hair removal at the time, which was a trend in the more cosmopolitan areas. The girl she was with had made such a face when she pulled off her drawers—

“Darling, are you alright?” Astarion has stopped his attentions, looking at her over the jumble of her hiked-up skirts.

“Oh, um,” Cat mumbles. “Ah, I’m just not very neat down there. At the moment.”

“Do you mean your blood?”

“N—no.” Cat says, her face heating up. She lays back, staring up as she talks. “No, it’s just. I have a human-ish amount of hair down there. Don’t know if you mind.”

His expression softens into a heavy-lidded smile. “My love, there’s nothing dirty about that. And I do not mind in the least. May I… proceed?”

There is a pitch of lust in his voice that runs straight down to her center. She nods, hands clutching at the grass in anticipation.

Astarion kisses and nips her thigh before he gently opens the angle, and her skirts fall back, exposing her underwear. He looks up at her where she has now dared to crane her head up and watch, his pupils once again blown wide. He continues, pushing her skirt and shift higher, to her waist. He dips his head to her stomach, kissing at the trail of fine hair leading down from her navel. Cat can feel his breath, his breathing he does to smell her. “All this means,” he whispers hoarsely as he goes, the hem of her underwear getting dragged down by his mouth, his nose, “is that you are a grown woman. And I rather adore it.”

Cat exhales shakily as she feels him slide her underwear off. Astarion sits back momentarily to remove them along with the blood-spotted rag, but then he leans right back into his former position at the juncture of her thighs, nosing the dark curls there while one hand gently starts to part her folds.

“Gods, you smell heavenly,” Astarion groans as he nuzzles lower, sending a jolt through Cat as his mouth moves over her clit and down toward her entrance.

It is a delightful shock when he firsts uses his tongue without warning, taking a long, slow lick up within her folds and ending by just touching her clit, teasing things to come. It is slightly cool, and the temperature difference heightens the sensation. He sighs, head lolling against her inner thigh as he savors the first taste of her monthly blood. Cat can’t see his eyes from this angle, just the impossibly thick eyelashes, before he bends down toward her again and begins in earnest.

He eats at her entrance like a starving man. She is slick already with both menses and her growing arousal, and Astarion makes it clear he wants it all. His tongue delves into her greedily, laving around the walls of her pussy as deep as he can go. His mouth moves against her inner lips deliciously, and now and then she feels the slight touch of a fang. It reminds her exactly what is happening—a vampire is feeding on her, devouring her in such an utterly vulgar way it stutters her brain. She lays back again as the shudder of lust runs through her. She raises her legs more, exposes more of herself to him, lost in the sensation of Astarion’s complete and undivided desire for her.

Cat has never been able to come from penetration alone. Astarion’s current attentions would not bring her to climax, but she very happily rides the waves of sensation, feels his desperate swallows as he feeds on her, sending another burst of heat down below.

When Astarion moves upwards, when his slick tongue finally runs over her clit, Cat jolts, gasping. His tongue circles—“N—no, not right on it,” Cat stutters, and Astarion shifts to probe on the hood, on the side, and he hmms satisfactorily as Cat moans and melts.

Astarion pushes two fingers into her and hooks them, moving them as he continues tonguing her clit, experimenting with sucking on it throughout. It does not take long at all for Cat to come, not after all this, and her spine curves as she cries out, one hand grabbing at the grass, the other winding thoughtlessly into Astarion’s hair as he keeps his tongue indirectly on her clit, extending the orgasm as her legs twitch and her breath hitches raggedly.

As she comes down from her high, releasing his beautiful curls, Astarion levers himself up, his fingers sliding out of her with a lewd squelch that sends a final twitch through her. His face as he looks at her smiling is… covered with her. Her slick and her blood all over his mouth, his chin, his cheeks. And not breaking her gaze, he brings his two fingers up and sucks them clean, licking at the last vestiges of her on them, closing his eyes fervently at the taste of it.

“My dear,” he says roughly at last, his adoring face framed by her thighs, “I think I should like to spend the rest of my eternity between your legs.”

Cat feels the overpowering sensation of lust fade in the aftermath, and the natural awkwardness of the situation starts to sink back in. “Ha. Was it really that good?”

“The life force of it is so concentrated. It fades fast when it… leaves your lovely self, but. That’s not an issue, direct from the source.”

A laugh bursts out of Cat. “You did seem very attached to my… source.”

“It is the source of much happiness, after all,” Astarion purrs. “for me, perhaps, in more than one way.”

Cat feels a shiver at the suggestion of his cock inside her. Suddenly her desire kicks back in, awkwardness forgotten. “Do you want to… do that other way, now?”

Astarion’s grin turns lustful. “How coy. Do you mean that you wish to be fucked?”

Cat hesitates for a moment. Remembers all he said before about intimacy. About sex. But she can see that he is still fully here and fully eager. So she will trust him to know himself. “Yes,” she says flatly, staring boldly back into his glittering red eyes.

“The lady knows what she wants,” he says before planting a kiss on her thigh. “though, if she would indulge me, I would like to feast on her once more. Give her some time to contemplate just how she would like to be fucked.”

Cat matches his grin. “I’m no lady. And your attentions down there don’t allow for rational thinking.”

“Apologies,” Astarion says as he sinks back down, looking entirely unapologetic. “how dreadful of me.”

This time is more languid than the last as he laps at her, as she feels his moans and sighs against her entrance. When she comes again, it is softer but no less toe-curling as her orgasm expands in her like a sea.

Cat sits up as the last waves of it recede, sighing contentedly. She gazes at Astarion sitting across from her on his knees. The breeze plays with his hair. He still looks something of a lovely horror with his red-smeared face, his tongue swiping at the excess around his lips.

“Have you reached a verdict?” he asks after he rubs his hand over his mouth to clean it further, tilting his head playfully.

“I have.”

“And?”

“Well, I was thinking. As much as I was able.” A grin tugs at his lips at that. “I’ve gained a lot of things on our journey. Friends. A worm in my head. You. If I may say that.”

“You may,” he says without hesitation, smiling bemusedly as he matches her light tone.

“The other thing I’ve gotten—well, earned really, after walking and walking and walking all over this godsforsaken land, is rock-hard thighs,” Cat says, hiking up her skirt for emphasis.

Astarion glances at them in a mock-cursory way. “You have gotten some impressive legs, darling. I can attest from up close and very personal experience.”

Cat’s dignified expression breaks into a grin for a second. “Yes. So I was thinking I’d like to put them to use, and ride you ragged.”

Astarion’s face falters as her last words shiver through him. He looks at her, desire sparking in his eyes. “My, you did manage to do some thinking while I was down there. Am I losing my touch?”

“Oh no. It was… inspiring,” Cat says huskily. She can feel how wet she is between her legs. Tries not to think how much of a pain it will be to clean it off her shift later. Pushing it from her mind, she crawls forward on her hands and knees, and Astarion sits back, letting her clamber on top. With a shuddering exhale he undoes his trousers, releasing his erection.

Cat puts her hands on his as they try to move up. “Oh, no. I think you should probably shuck them off more than that. Because I’m about to make a whole mess,” she rasps, gazing down at him from where she sits on his thighs. He looks up at her with a hunger that makes her guts twist. And then he snakes his head upward in a flash, captures her lips at the same time he pushes his trousers further down his legs, then holds Cat on his lap as he shifts back off his knees and onto his rear, cradling her in front of his thighs.

Cat freezes for a moment at the lingering taste of her in his mouth. He had cleaned up quite a bit of it, not wanting to waste it, but it is still there. At first she’s not sure how she feels—then thinks it’s a bit silly to hesitate when she was eager enough for him coated in goblin blood. Tentatively she opens at his probing tongue, meeting him with hers, letting herself revel in his devouring mouth.

His hand moves to shift up the skirts bunched up between them. And all of a sudden she feels what they had been muffling, feels him pressed hard against her belly, and the want seizes her. She shifts up on her knees; reaches down to position him below her dripping entrance. He jerks at her touch, breath hitching. And then she lowers herself down on him, relishing the slight sting at the entrance as he perfectly fills her.

“Cat—” he gasps into her mouth, his hands grasping at her waist, at her back, as she starts to move languidly, up and down while also gyrating her hips. She cradles his head as he pulls himself off of her mouth and buries his face in the crook of her neck, sucking in breaths as he clings to her. She can feel the tension in his torso as his muscles work to keep him sitting upright, slightly awkward in this position with his legs bent in front of him.

“Lay back if you want,” she says, but he shakes his head immediately.

“No—no,” he breathes with intense sincerity. “I want to stay right here with you.”

He mouths lower on down her chest. Cat arches back as she continues to move, giving him access. He settles on the top of one of her breasts.

With a sudden recklessness, Cat starts to untie the jacket over her shift, then loosens the drawstring within the shift’s neckline. Astarion pulls it down hungrily, baring her breasts.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll keep you well-covered,” he says hoarsely, and is true to his word as he smothers one breast with his mouth and holds the other, thumbing the nipple and making Cat gasp and clench around him. She clutches around his shoulders, burying her face in his hair.

“How have I never noticed your perfect tits before?” he groans into one of them.

“We had—very chaste sex, last time,” Cat says, gasping at the end as she feels him drag his teeth over the nipple.

He cackles into her, and the tickling sensation makes her giggle. “Oh yes, we are very chaste, aren’t we?” he says as he suddenly grabs her by the hips and grinds her down on his cock.

Cat grinds down harder automatically, chasing the friction. She moans right in his ear.

“Gods, you make pretty sounds,” he breathes. “Keep grinding down, darling.”

Cat groans. “I’m liable to snap your cock in half if I do, sweetheart. Much as I want to grind down until my brain dribbles out my ears—”

“That I would love to see,” he smiles into her neck.

“Well, what I would like to see is you, completely undone,” she murmurs into his ear, relishing the shiver she feels running through him. She picks up her former rhythm, adding a circular grind to it on the downstroke, feeling the head of his cock rubbing the apex of her, in front of her cervix.

She wrings sounds from him that nearly make her come by themselves. Suddenly Astarion grabs around her waist, holding her on his cock while he shifts a leg under him. With the leverage, he starts meeting her with his own thrusts. They hunch into each other like beasts, tense and inelegant and utterly wrapped up in the other. Cat clings to Astarion, letting him pound up into her as his thrusts come faster and frantic. He seeks her mouth, moaning into it as he comes inside her, holding her hips down as he finishes. She flexes herself around him rhythmically through his release, drawing it out, and swallows his sweet cries greedily.

Astarion is loose and utterly sated as he lies back, pulling Cat to lie next to him in his arms. Her skirts cover them, cover the mess of her blood and his spend.

As he watches her face, his brow furrows suddenly. “You didn’t finish, did you, dearest?”

“Hm? No. That’s fine, though. I’ve come plenty tonight.”

“But you were close. Would you… allow me?”

Something about the closeness of him, his face not even an inch from hers, makes Cat suddenly shy. She nods. Smiling at her, Astarion reaches down under her skirts. He gently rubs around her clit. Cat sighs into it, still looking right at him. She feels like his wide-eyed gaze is holding her gently, so gently she almost can’t stand it. But she doesn’t look away. Only flutters her eyes shut as her orgasm washes over her. She feels his nose nuzzle hers. Feels his hand gently cup her face, tracing with his thumb.

She opens her eyes, and he is looking back at her with a deep ache. “Cat,” he whispers. “I want to tell you. But I’ve said those words so many times without meaning them—I don’t know if I can make them sound sincere.”

Cat places her hand on his, her heart fluttering even after all this. “I know you mean it. Tell me, however you want.”

Astarion hesitates. Then he leans over her, puts his mouth to her ear. And he pushes it out of his lungs; breathes it into her. Three words said with genuine, terrible feeling.

A/N:

Thank you for reading!! The last chapter, wrapping up the post-game story, will be up tomorrow.

If it's of any interest-- I changed up the conditions around the 7k spawn because it always struck me as weird that all of them are just... standing around docilely. Like you're telling me they're not tearing apart any new spawn dumped in there who probably still smell a bit like fresh blood? Who would be competition for whatever vermin they happen to get their hands on? Naw. (also, was not able to explain it in-story, but I imagine that they stay stock-still to preserve energy until they smell blood)

I also always thought that Tav convincing Astarion not to ascend and the aftermath needed more angst and needed to be more drawn-out before the reconciliation between them because Astarion would need time to sort out his feelings.

[tzipor-feather-blog]

Whats your opinion on Ai generated content? Do you condone using other people's writing or art in AI?

Uff, you actually went to slaughter me!! This is a really controversial issue. But I like being intellectually challenged, so let's answer this.

It's more complicated than a yes or no answer.

AI art used by people who don't have the money to pay an actual artist is fine by me, though I understand the struggle of being an artist dying to be commissioned, since I was there, and I know now it'll be more complicated for people to be commissioned if you can get what you want with the click of a button.

Same goes with writing, though unless you have dyslexia or ADHD, or anything else that makes it difficult to write, I deeply encourage people to write for themselves and not be assisted by a machine. If you learn to communicate well, you'll write well, and you'll write well if you take the time to read. People who don't know how to write well most of the time are the people who communicate poorly.

You should ask AI to teach you how to communicate (if you're so insistent of using it), not to write for you.

I do condone enterprises who use AI art and writing to not pay actual artists or writers, even though nowadays the AI doesn't always get it right. The thing is, they know one day it will.

I condone them because they don't care about their employees or the family behind them. But I also understand that in the end it will be more cost-effective, even if we don't like it.

About using other's people writing or art in AI, I believe it's wrong unless they are compensated with money. A FAIR amount of money.

I once uploaded my own writing to Bard, because I'm good with prose and not with poems and I wanted it to turn my prose into a poem. It did. It wasn't a good poem. I didn't like it.

I never posted it but if I were to do it I would clarifiy that it was made by AI using my own writing as a source.

I wouldn't like other people using my writing on AI.

So I understand why people are mad that their writing was used directly or indirectly to make something they didn't agree upon. The same goes with art.

Last but not least, everyone has the right to disagree with me. Just remember to be respectful on the replies.

[bookwormscififan]

The Crimson Files, Chapter 2

Chapter 1

“Let me take you into my drawing room,” the man offered, stepping toward Chase with a polite smile. As he reached around Chase to turn the doorknob behind him, he waved his free hand in a mock bow.

“My name is Jameson Jackson. Allow me to fix you a drink.”

“My doorman tells me you have come to find your friend, Robert,” Jameson reclined in his chair, swirling a glass of wine in his hand.

“Y-yes, he sent me a letter to come here,” Chase stammered, the wine in his glass threatening to splash all over the wonderfully rich fabric of the couch he was sitting on. He watched as Jameson took a calm sip of his wine, hand moving gracefully as though he were a swan.

“Yes, this letter here, correct?” Jameson delicately pulled Robert’s letter from his pocket, showing it to Chase leisurely and smiling as Chase nodded. He took another sip from his glass before leaning forward and placing the letter on the small table between them.

“I do remember seeing your friend,” he started consideringly, “He had a lot of questions about the history of this castle.” Chase gulped, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Robert was interested in the history of the castle.

“That sounds like Robert,” Chase stated, deciding to place his glass down instead of risk it spilling, “He really likes learning about the past. It is almost an obsession of his.” He let out a nervously breathless chuckle, trying to make it sound like Robert was really interested in history and hoping not to allude to the fact that Robert probably wanted to know how many generations of vampires had inhabited the castle.

Jameson merely hummed, reclining back in his chair as though he were conducting a very boring business deal.

“I am very curious as to why he would request your presence,” he commented, finally putting his glass down on the crystal-topped table beside his chair. Chase hesitated before coming up with a relatively convincing lie.

“I build homes for people.” That was true. His business was building houses. “Robert thought I might be inspired by this castle’s design.” That was the lie. Chase hated castles; he knew that they all housed vampires at some point, and he was going to give Robert a good box around the ear when he finally saw him again.

“Inspired by the design of this castle?” Jameson’s tone was almost amused. “I can tell you this castle has been around since before the bard Shakespeare walked the ground outside.” He reached for his glass again, finishing its contents before leaning forward and resting his hands in his lap.

“I would be more than happy to give you a tour of the castle, if it would help to inspire you.” His face was all smiles, shining teeth and clever eyes, and Chase for some reason couldn’t seem to find the words to say no.

Instead, he gathered his items – Robert’s letter included – and stood to follow Jameson through the castle.

“The main dining hall used to be a ballroom, but I don’t care much for fancy parties,” Jameson said as he walked Chase through the large room, ceiling towering above his head and floor mostly taken up by what must be a twelve-seater dining table.

“You can still see traces of the ballroom in here,” his host continued, “For example, the curtains on the windows are far too heavy to be used for the everyday dining, rather for keeping dust off the polished floor. Also, the chandeliers above your head are genuine crystal, used for balls.”

“The design of the room is very nice,” Chase commented, taking in the number of rugs covering the once polished marble flooring. He had to keep up the lie somehow. “Has this marble floor always been here?”

“Oh, no, the floors were wooden when I was growing up. I changed the flooring when I came of age, then I realised I didn’t really like balls,” Jameson replied, looking at the marble with a slight scowl, the fangs Chase had noticed before gleaming.

“That must have cost a lot of money,” Chase stated, tapping his toe against the marble curiously. Jameson nodded, waving his hand to urge Chase forward.

“It did. Come now, there are many more rooms to see.”

--

In a small house a few streets away from the road to the castle, a young man stood by a small table. His face was covered by a canvas mask, dark hair falling over his eyes, and a large, heavy velvet cloak draped over his shoulders.

The table was almost like a workbench, a narrow wooden table with multiple stains and scuff marks on it, piled high with books and glass vials. In the centre of the table, emitting a faint green glow, a crystal ball projected an image of Jameson and Chase walking down the halls of the castle.

“You found another one,” the man muttered, eyes narrowing behind the mask as he watched Jameson and Chase. Turning swiftly, he walked toward the back of the house, passing a newspaper clipping depicting sketches of Jameson and another man, teeth sharp.

The man picked up another clipping, a drawing of a man similar to him on the page, with the words ‘Marvin the Magnificent’ written in cursive beneath the drawing. Flicking his hair over his shoulder, Marvin rolled up the paper and moved to another table, picking up various items before brushing his fingers across a small wooden frame.

“I will avenge you, my brother,” he whispered to the frame, then turned back to the workbench and waved his hand above the crystal ball, causing the image to disperse.

The item in the frame was a small painting of a man, dark hair tied back and arms folded across his chest. His bright eyes matched Marvin’s, and his jaw was set in a stern expression. His loose red shirt brought out the colour of his hair, and tacked to the frame was a small newspaper clipping.

The clipping was from the ‘recent disappearances’ section of the newspaper, announcing that the man in the painting had disappeared after being witnessed walking up the path to the castle, and that his likelihood of returning was slim.

Marvin pulled his hood over his head, glancing back once more to ensure everything was in place, then headed out of the door.

[just-a-geeky-therapist]

Noisome Dreams

Day 7 of FFXIV Write: Noisome

Noisome fumes stung Hythlodaeus' eyes as he sidestepped yet another fallen Amaurotine, grotesque swarms of insects seeming to guide his way towards the center of the city. He struggled to hold tears back as familiar visages littered the ground, grimacing in an all too telling fashion of the poor souls’ final seconds. Bricks were painted burgundy, as once crimson blood had dried to their surfaces, crunching under his boots despite futile attempts to avoid the carnage. 

The stench of death burned his nose, nearing the center plaza where the initial apocalypse had begun, piles of bodies with swarms of insects wafting about, taking advantage of the noisome feast. Some faces were familiar, others were unknown, while yet others remained a mystery behind miraculously intact masks. Those were the bodies which remained whole, however… Scattered limbs and sundered torsos also littered the once pristine streets, the sight nearly costing Hythlodaeus the meager contents of his stomach. Such devastation, he thought to himself, pulse sounding painfully in his ears. 

Nearly every fiber in his being willed him to collapse where he stood and give into the calling of the star… to relieve himself of the ghastly future reality had wrought upon him. In the wake of the shattering of the city, he’d yet to hear from any of his colleagues - his tardiness to his typical role having spared him the worst of the violence. He knew some had escaped, but they’d done so to lands that teamed with the same ferocious blasphemies that had already cost so many their lives. They ran from one warzone directly to the frontlines of another, he pondered, grimacing as he nearly tripped over the upper portion of what appeared to be a leg. 

Being more cautious of his step, he continued past the fountain, stagnant water deceitfully showcasing a deep burgundy wine, though one sip would rid any facade of pleasentry. Hythlodaeus bent at his waist, violently wrenched muscles burning as his body tried to rid of the noisome myriad of senses accosting him… yet naught had been left in his stomach - his appetite long surpassing him. 

‘Twas not with idle curiosity that he’d braved entering the city… the smell alone having warned him nearly a bell before he’d even reached its gates. I need to know, he’d told himself as he’d made the decision to venture in… where does he lay, he’d agonized in every moment that passed from the first report of all the living having been evacuated… yet the one face he sought for most was not among their numbers. Where did he fall? How did he fall? Was it protecting someone? Series of questions threatened to overwhelm the rest of his senses as he tried to push the worst of the images from his head. 

The sound of movement brought all of his senses to painful awareness as the low growl of some beast echoed through the deadened street. The grizzly maw of the beast emerged from the crumbled remains of one of the many ruined buildings, crimson eyes glowing through the dust that followed its movement. Those horrifying eyes were locked directly on Hythlodaeus, the beast's half-dozen legs beginning to move in quick strides, charging the bard. 

Hythlodaeus pulled his bow, making ready to notch an arrow, but realized that while the closeness of the beast would assure a direct hit, it also left no room for error as the single shot would see the beast upon him. Instead, he turned and ran, vaulting over several bodies strewn in his way as he made for the Convocation building. It stood at a slight angle, the foundation suffering damage from the various earthquakes that had ruptured the city. Doors stood askew, but with enough force allowed Hythlodaeus to gain entry. 

The immediate entryway was dark, crimson light showcasing minimal details as it poked through several broken panes of glass. He’d barely barely taken two strides before glancing back at the doors which were being forced open by the cryptid beast. The moment’s lapse in concentration was all it took for him to stumble over an object on the ground. In his half twisted form, he fell with his shoulder making contact with the ground - an agonizing ‘pop’ both sounding and being felt as the joint gave out. Initial shock saw him attempt to scramble to his feet until his gaze fell upon what had tripped him. 

Blonde hair, stained with one crimson blood lay before him, parted lips and blue-fogged eyes seemed to return his gaze, robes torn to rags buried in the horrific void that was now his torso… Emet!

Hythlodaeus’ lost ability to breath as he slammed his eyes shut to spare him the image of his lover’s ruined body. Hope, love, happiness… were immediately torn from him… the will to continue on ceasing to pulse through his veins as his mind imploded as the world around him had. 

He could scarcely hear the scratching of the beasts’ legs as it drew near his frozen form… numbness overtook him as his body shook of its own accord. His mouth flexed in agony as inhumane teeth dug into his thigh, a breathless scream escaping his lips as he felt the warmth of his lifeforce flood from him. The sound of bones being rendered elicited another scream, his lungs burning as air flooded from his being, threatening to never return. 

Hungry jaws released him with only a moment’s respite before latching along his throat, his screams falling silent…

…He bolted upright, the silent scream of his nightmare sounding off the walls of his bedroom. Tears streamed down his face and his lungs burned as though he’d walked through the smoke of a thousand volcanos. His body felt unlike his own, limbs refusing to properly move as he violently shook with each sob that escaped his lips. 

“Hyth! Hyth…” came a soothing voice, paired with soft strokes against his cheek as the weight of another shifted in the bed. “Shh… baby… it’s okay, I’m here,” his lover soothed, arms wrapping tightly about his vulnerable frame. 

It took a few moments for him to realize where he was and who spoke to him as loud sobs gave way to small hiccups. His eyes burned as tears began to dry along his face. Lavender hair stuck to his brow, the rest having been worked into a mass of sweat at tears. Most of all, his chest ached, as though he’d been kicked by some wild beast… it ached so much that he wondered if he was still dying. 

“Are you okay?” Emet softly asked, pulling back far enough only to wipe away the hair that clung to Hythlodaeus’ face. “Please talk to me,” he nearly begged. 

“I… I don’t know…” Hythlodaeus managed between large gasps for air. “It was so real… so real… the smell… the crunch… you!” his sobs renewed, earning concerned looks from Emet who began to understand. 

“‘Twas another dream…” he quietly said to himself. “What can I do, love?” he questioned, feeling helpless to ease Hythlodaeus’ distress. 

“Just… hold me…” Hythlodaeus sounded. “Tell me this is real,” he said as he finally regained movement in his arms to return the embrace. 

“I’m right here, you’re here… you’re safe,” Emet comforted. 

“You were…” tears streamed down his face as Hythlodaeus tried to release the noisome images from his head… “Your eyes were so… distant… your body. Hythlodaeus’ sobs continued as the grief felt in his dream continued to threaten his reality. 

“It’s alright… shh… shh…” Emet continued, averting his focus enough to will several candles in the room to burn, warm light enveloping the two forms. “My eyes are as they’ve always been,” he said as he gently took hold of Hythlodaeus’ chin, encouraging him to make eye contact.

Hythlodaeus felt newfound relief as he looked at eyes which shone like fresh honey, healthy tanned skin helping to replace the thoughts of deathly pallor which had tortured him. His hands flitted about Emet’s torso, feeling for where the void of space should have been, only to make contact with firm yet supple skin, the warmth further pushing the ice from his veins. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emet asked carefully, leaning his forehead against Hythlodaeus as he held his lover’s hand to his chest. 

“N… no.. no,” Hythlodaeus answered, heart rate beginning to synchronize with Emet’s as his hand remained atop his chest. “Just don’t let me go,” he sighed.

“I’ll never let you go, Hyth,” Emet responded, offering a chaste kiss as he once again embraced his partner. “Would you like some tea?” he offered, knowing sleep was unlikely to be their reality for quite some time. 

“Can I help?” Hythlodaeus asked, knowing he wanted nothing less than to be alone.

“Of course, love.”

Emet stood and helped Hythlodaeus to his feet, holding onto him as he guided him out the door and towards the kitchen. Silence wrapped around them as Emet set to making tea, convincing Hythlodaeus to sit at the breakfast bar. Emet occasionally broke the silence with distracting statements, hoping to further distance his lover from the torment he’d experienced. 

In time, the tea was completed and biscuits set out in front of them both as the two sat and tried to ease their way towards morning. It was going to be a long day, but that was regardless of how either of them had slept as big decisions were being discussed by the convocation… 

[imarketer4udma-blog]

The Impact of ChatGPT on Marketing, Advertising, SMM, and SEO

ChatGPT is a powerful artificial intelligence tool that has revolutionized the way we communicate with technology. With its advanced language processing capabilities, ChatGPT can understand and respond to human language in a way that feels natural and human-like. This technology has already had a significant impact on many industries, including marketing, advertising, social media marketing (SMM), and search engine optimization (SEO).

In this article, we will explore the ways in which ChatGPT is transforming the landscape of these industries, and how businesses can leverage its power to enhance their marketing efforts. From chatbots that provide personalized customer service to AI-powered content creation and optimization, we will discuss the many ways in which ChatGPT is being used to drive engagement, conversions, and revenue for businesses of all sizes. 

Whether you are a marketer, advertiser, SMM professional, or SEO specialist, this article will provide valuable insights into how ChatGPT is shaping the future of these industries. A nice bonus awaits you at the end of the article, so we advise you to read to the end.

What is ChatGPT from Open AI?

AI models and machine learning algorithms have become increasingly important tools for businesses looking to harness the power of data and automation to improve their operations and drive growth. One of the most exciting applications of these technologies is in natural language processing, which allows machines to understand and respond to human language in a way that was once thought impossible.

Many different AI models and machine learning algorithms are being used in natural language processing, each with its own strengths and weaknesses. Some of the most notable models include Google's Bard, which is designed specifically for open-domain question-answering, LaMDA, which is a more general conversational model that can generate rich and coherent responses across a wide range of topics, and Microsoft's Bing, which uses machine learning to provide more relevant search results to users.

One of the most powerful natural language processing models currently available is ChatGPT, developed by OpenAI. ChatGPT is a variant of the GPT (Generative Pre-trained Transformer) language model, which was designed to generate coherent and contextually relevant text. ChatGPT takes this a step further by adding conversational abilities, allowing it to understand and respond to human language in a way that feels natural and fluid.

There are currently two versions of ChatGPT available: ChatGPT3 and ChatGPT4. ChatGPT3 is the most widely used and has been trained on an enormous amount of text data, allowing it to generate highly realistic and contextually appropriate responses to a wide variety of prompts. ChatGPT4, on the other hand, is still in development and is expected to be even more powerful than its predecessor, with the ability to generate even more realistic and nuanced responses. The key difference between ChatGPT3 and ChatGPT4 is the size of their training data sets, with ChatGPT4 being trained on an even larger corpus of text data.

Overall, AI models and machine learning algorithms like ChatGPT have the potential to revolutionize the way we communicate and create content, providing businesses with powerful tools to enhance their marketing efforts and engage with customers in more meaningful and personalized ways.

Opportunities and limitations of ChatGPT

Benefits and opportunities of ChatGPT:

Personalized and engaging customer interactions

Streamlined customer service processes

Enhanced content creation and optimization

Increased efficiency and productivity

Improved customer satisfaction

Ability to scale customer service and communication

Cost-effective solution compared to hiring and training human staff

Improved brand image and reputation

Accurate and relevant responses to customer queries

Integration with various communication channels.

Limitations of ChatGPT:

Potential for bias and inaccuracies based on the data it's trained on

Inability to understand the nuances and context of human language in some situations

Potential for misuse by bad actors

Need for regular updates and maintenance

Lack of emotional intelligence and empathy

Difficulty in handling complex or sensitive customer queries

Possible security risks related to customer data privacy

Risk of alienating some customers who prefer human interaction

Limited ability to handle multilingual conversations

Dependence on good internet connectivity and hardware resources for optimal performance.

ChatGPT and the future of marketing

ChatGPT transforms marketing by enabling personalized and conversational interactions between businesses and customers. Using AI in digital advertisement, specifically through tools like ChatGPT, can result in more personalized and effective marketing strategies that ultimately drive higher conversions and ROI. It generates targeted content, assists customers, and provides valuable insights into customer behavior and preferences. As ChatGPT advances, it has the potential to understand human emotions and enhance customer relationships.

Automated communication with customers

Businesses can improve their customer service and engagement by using AI-powered chatbots and virtual assistants to automate their communication with customers. An example of this is Bank of America with their virtual assistant "Erica", which uses natural language processing and machine learning to help customers with their banking queries and provide personalized financial advice.

Faster response

Businesses can improve their customer satisfaction by using AI-powered chatbots to provide instant assistance and support. For example, online retailer ASOS uses a chatbot to provide real-time assistance to customers, helping them to find products and complete their purchases faster and more efficiently.

Automated content creation, including text, video, and images

Companies can improve their content marketing strategies by using AI-powered tools to generate high-quality text, video, and images. One of them is online design platform Canva. This is an online design platform that uses AI-powered tools to suggest design elements and layouts based on user preferences and input, thus enabling users to create professional-looking designs with ease and in less time.

Better customer’s engagement

Brands are now building better relationships with customers and increasing their loyalty by using AI-powered chatbots and virtual assistants to provide personalized and engaging interactions. An example of this is the beauty retailer Sephora, which uses a chatbot to provide makeup tips and recommendations to customers, helping to build stronger and more meaningful relationships with their customers.

Inspiration with new promotion ideas

Businesses can improve their marketing strategies by using AI-powered tools to generate creative and innovative ideas for promotions and campaigns. TGI Fridays, a restaurant chain, utilizes AI-powered tools to scrutinize customer data and generate customized offers and promotions that cater to individual customer preferences and behaviors.

How is ChatGPT changing the game for SEO optimization ?

ChatGPT revolutionizes SEO optimization with its advanced natural language processing capabilities. It generates high-quality, SEO-optimized content tailored to specific audiences, helping businesses improve their search engine rankings and attract more organic traffic. Moreover, ChatGPT optimizes content for voice search, making it easier for businesses to reach a wider audience. While ChatGPT is a powerful tool for SEO optimization, human expertise, and oversight are still necessary. Businesses must use ChatGPT responsibly and ethically to ensure original and relevant content that meets the needs of the target audience.

Discover the power of our  SEO Promotion Services and unleash your online potential today!

Keywords research

By utilizing ChatGPT to analyze search queries and trends and identify pertinent keywords to incorporate into their content, businesses can enhance their SEO strategy. For example, a business that sells athletic shoes may use ChatGPT to generate a list of relevant keywords such as "running shoes," "workout shoes," and "sneakers," and then use this information to optimize their product descriptions and blog posts. Here's a prompt for conducting keyword research using ChatGPT: "Hey ChatGPT, can you help me identify relevant keywords for my athletic shoe business? I'm looking to optimize my product pages and blog content for search engines, and I want to target keywords that are commonly used by my target audience."

Creating promotion strategies

Businesses can leverage ChatGPT to generate fresh and inventive ideas for promoting their products or services. For example, using ChatGPT, develop a list of relevant keywords and phrases for a local bakery specializing in gluten-free desserts. Using this list, create optimized content for the bakery's website, including product descriptions, blog posts, and social media captions. Additionally, use ChatGPT to generate topic ideas for informative and engaging content that appeals to the bakery's target audience, such as gluten-free baking tips and dessert recipes. Finally, analyze website traffic and search engine rankings to measure the success of the SEO strategy and make adjustments as needed.

Creating SEO-optimized texts, product descriptions and FAQ

ChatGPT offers businesses the ability to produce high-quality content that is both SEO-optimized and precisely tailored to the unique needs and interests of their target audience. With ChatGPT, businesses can not only improve their online visibility and search engine rankings but also connect with their audience on a deeper level by providing them with relevant and engaging content that adds value to their experience. For example, a trucking company could use ChatGPT to generate service descriptions that are optimized for specific keywords and provide helpful information about the company's services, such as its fleet size, delivery speed, and reliability. The descriptions could also highlight the unique features of the company, such as its use of GPS tracking technology, eco-friendly practices, and 24/7 customer support. Additionally, ChatGPT could be used to generate FAQ content that answers common questions related to the company's services, pricing, and delivery options.

You can use the following prompt to generate SEO-optimized content in the form of texts, product descriptions, and FAQ: "Hello ChatGPT, I am looking for help with creating SEO-optimized content. Could you please provide me with SEO-optimized texts, product descriptions, and FAQs in the trucking niche? Please focus on highlighting the unique features and benefits of our company, incorporating relevant keywords and phrases related to the trucking industry, and creating engaging and high-quality content that can improve our online visibility and attract targeted traffic to our website. Thank you!"

Easier finding domains for linkbuilding

One of the many benefits of using ChatGPT in SEO is that it can help businesses find suitable domains for link building more easily. Link building is a critical aspect of SEO as it can improve a website's search engine ranking and drive more organic traffic. However, finding high-quality domains to build links with can be a challenging and time-consuming task. ChatGPT can help businesses overcome this challenge by generating domain ideas that are relevant to their niche, industry, and target audience. By providing the model with the necessary information, businesses can receive suggestions for domains that are likely to be of high quality and have a positive impact on their website's search engine ranking. This feature of ChatGPT can save businesses a significant amount of time and effort, allowing them to focus on other aspects of their marketing and SEO strategies.

Creating TItle and Descriptions

With the help of ChatGPT, businesses can create engaging and informative titles and descriptions for a variety of content types, such as blog posts, product pages, and social media posts. For example, a plumbing company may use ChatGPT to generate titles and descriptions that highlight the unique features and benefits of their services, and are optimized for relevant keywords such as "emergency plumbing services," "water heater repair," or "sewer line cleaning." You could write something like: “Hi ChatGPT, I need your help in creating SEO-optimized titles and descriptions for our website's product pages. Could you generate titles and descriptions that are optimized for relevant keywords such as "high-quality plumbing fixtures," "affordable plumbing services," or "professional plumbing installation"? Thank you!"

ChatGPT for PPC and advertising

By utilizing the power of AI, businesses can greatly improve their PPC campaigns and see a significant boost in advertising performance. It generates high-quality ad copy that is optimized for specific keywords and search queries, improving click-through rates and campaign performance. ChatGPT also creates personalized and engaging ad content by tailoring it to the interests and needs of individual users.

If you want to dive deeper into this topic, be sure to check out our related article “How to improve your PPC Ads - 8 advice you didn't know”

Better Ad Targeting

ChatGPT can be used to create more targeted and personalized ad campaigns. By analyzing user data and search trends, ChatGPT can provide insights into user behavior and interests, helping businesses to create more relevant and effective ad content. For example, a logistics company can use ChatGPT to analyze search trends and user behavior to identify which shipping routes and delivery options are most in demand among their target audience. The company can then use this information to create ads that highlight their strengths in these areas and offer tailored promotions or discounts to entice potential customers. To receive this type of assistance, you could write to ChatGPT with a prompt such as, "Please provide suggestions for creating targeted ads and promotions using search trends and user behavior to identify popular shipping routes and delivery options for my logistics company"

Discovering new PPC campaign ideas

ChatGPT can be used to generate new and innovative ideas for PPC campaigns. By analyzing market trends and user behavior, ChatGPT can provide businesses with insights into new opportunities for growth and expansion. For example, if a business wants to expand its reach to a new demographic, ChatGPT can analyze user behavior and search trends to identify which products or services are most popular among that demographic. The business can then use this information to create a new PPC campaign targeting that demographic.To receive help from ChatGPT you could write: "Hi ChatGPT, I am looking to expand our reach to a new demographic. Can you help me identify which products or services are popular among this demographic and provide recommendations for creating a new PPC campaign to target them? Thank you!"

Producing ideas for A/B tests

ChatGPT can help businesses to create more effective A/B tests by generating ideas for variations in ad copy, targeting, and other variables. By using ChatGPT to identify potential areas for improvement, businesses can optimize their campaigns and improve their overall performance. For example, if a business wants to test the effectiveness of different ad copy, ChatGPT can generate multiple variations of the same ad with different copy. The business can then use these variations to test which ad copy is most effective. You could write to ChatGPT with a prompt such as: "Hi ChatGPT, I am a marketer for a business and I want to test the effectiveness of different ad copy. Can you please help me by generating multiple variations of the same ad with different copies that I can use to test which ad copy is most effective?"

Competitor’s research

ChatGPT can be used to analyze competitor campaigns and identify areas for improvement. By analyzing ad copy, targeting, and other variables, ChatGPT can help businesses to gain insights into the strategies and tactics of their competitors, enabling them to make more informed decisions about their own campaigns. For example, if a business wants to understand how their competitors are targeting a specific demographic, ChatGPT can analyze the ad copy and targeting of their competitor's ads to identify which keywords and phrases are most effective. The business can then use this information to optimize their own ad campaigns. You can write to ChatGPT with the following prompt: "Can you help me analyze my competitor's ad copy and targeting for a specific demographic? Please generate insights on which keywords and phrases are most effective in their ads so I can optimize my own ad campaigns accordingly."

Impact of ChatGPT for SMM

The integration of artificial intelligence, such as ChatGPT, can revolutionize SMM by streamlining tasks and providing insights that can enhance social media strategies. Businesses can use ChatGPT to generate personalized content and automate social media tasks, freeing up valuable time and resources. By engaging with customers more effectively, businesses can improve their social media presence, increase their reach, and build stronger relationships with their customers.

You can book the services of our specialist to create a strong SMM strategy.

New content ideas

One of the primary advantages of ChatGPT is its ability to generate new content ideas. By analyzing customer behavior patterns and data, ChatGPT can help businesses create fresh and innovative ideas for social media posts. For example, a deck building company can use ChatGPT to create content around trending home improvement topics, new deck design ideas, and tips for maintaining a beautiful and functional outdoor living space to engage their audience. This can help the company attract more potential customers who are interested in improving their homes with a new deck or outdoor living area. To receive content ideas for a deck building company, you could write to ChatGPT something like: "Hi ChatGPT, I need help creating engaging content for a deck building company. Can you suggest some trending topics, design ideas, and tips for maintaining and cleaning a deck that will be helpful for our audience?"

Translation into any language

Another significant benefit of ChatGPT is its ability to translate content into any language. This is especially useful for businesses that operate globally, enabling them to connect with a wider audience and improve customer engagement. For instance, an e-commerce company can use ChatGPT to translate their social media posts into various languages such as Chinese, Spanish, or French, to better connect with their global customers. You can write something like: "Can you help me translate my e-commerce company's social media posts into different languages to better connect with our global customers? Specifically, we would like to translate our posts into Chinese, Spanish, and French."

Ready-made posts for Facebook and Instagram

ChatGPT can help businesses create ready-made posts for Facebook and Instagram. By analyzing data and identifying popular content formats, ChatGPT can generate social media posts that are optimized for engagement and conversions. For example, a beauty brand can use ChatGPT to create posts featuring their latest beauty products, along with Midjourney that creates attractive images , to attract and retain their followers on social media. To create a post for Facebook write to ChatGPT something like: "Hi ChatGPT, I would like your help in creating a Facebook post to promote our latest beauty products. Can you generate a post that includes an attention-grabbing headline and a short product description? Our target audience is primarily women between the ages of 18-35 who are interested in beauty and skincare. Thank you!" For the attractive image, you should refer to Midjourney. Enter a description of the desired image and additional parameters for it. Additional parameters can include the choice of style, image size, atmosphere, and any other details. In response, the AI generates 4 image options. And voila, it's all ready for your post!

Why does your business need workflow automation with ChatGPT?

Workflow automation with ChatGPT is becoming increasingly popular among businesses due to the numerous benefits it offers. By automating repetitive and time-consuming tasks, businesses can save time and resources, allowing them to focus on core business operations and growth. Here are some reasons why your business needs workflow automation with ChatGPT:

Increased efficiency: with workflow automation, businesses can streamline their processes and reduce manual intervention, resulting in increased efficiency. ChatGPT can automate tasks such as customer support, data entry, and content creation, freeing up employee time for more strategic tasks. This can lead to better productivity and faster turnaround times.

Improved accuracy: human error is inevitable, but with ChatGPT, businesses can reduce the risk of errors and ensure greater accuracy. For example, ChatGPT can be used to automate tasks such as data entry and analysis, reducing the risk of errors and ensuring that the data is accurate and reliable.

Better customer experience: workflow automation can help businesses provide better customer experiences by automating tasks such as customer support and feedback collection. ChatGPT can be used to automate customer support chatbots, enabling customers to get quick and accurate answers to their queries. This can lead to improved customer satisfaction and retention.

In summary, workflow automation with ChatGPT can help businesses save time and resources, increase efficiency, improve accuracy, and provide better customer experiences. By automating repetitive and time-consuming tasks, businesses can focus on more strategic tasks, leading to growth and success.

IM4U Digital Marketing Agency is ready for the AI challenge

Looking to streamline your business processes and stay ahead of the latest trends? Look no further than IM4U - an agency with extensive experience in digital marketing. Whether you need help with ChatGPT implementation, SEO optimization, PPC advertising, or SMM strategy, IM4U has the expertise to help you achieve your goals.

Don't wait - book IM4U's services today and take your business to the next level! Contact us to schedule a consultation and learn more about how we can help you achieve your business objectives with cutting-edge technologies like ChatGPT.

For readers who have read until the end, we have a small bonus: ChatGPT prompts mastering: A Complete Guide to Mastering Effective Prompts.

[marketingprofitmedia]

Neuro App Review – All-in-One Premium AI Models in Single Dashboard

Welcome to my Neuro App Review. In recent few years, the Artificial intelligence landscape has become a never ending bay of explosion of tools that can help in nearly every aspect of digital creation. This includes content writing to designing logos, generating voiceovers and even making motion videos, there’s an AI tool for every task. One challenge, however, is that users must juggle numerous platforms and tools with their own subscription fees, steep learning curves and limitations.

Neuro App is a global first AI driven platform with over 100+ powerful AI models within one single dashboard Enter. What if you could search, unlock, and use the best AI tools in the world for free with a single click? Being able to always create websites, brand, generate 4K images, build chatbots, it makes perfect sense to consolidate all these capabilities into one platform, and that’s what Neuro App is.

Neuro App promises to revolutionize the way you hack with AI, and this review will discuss some of its features, benefits, pricing, pros and cons, as well as the potentials to do so. So why are people all up in arms about this platform and does it really live up to its claims? Let’s find out.

What Is Neuro App?

Neuro App is an application, a cutting edge complete AI platform which essentially transforms the manner in which people and companies use artificial intelligence. Intended for the over 100+ most important AI models brought together under a single dashboard to simplify complex work and increase productivity. Neuro App opens you up to the power of ChatGPT, Leonard AI, DALL-E, Canva AI, Claude, Gemini, Copilot, Bard AI, MidJourney, Jasper, Stable Diffusion, and Synthesia without the need for subscriptions and monthly fees.

They can make websites, make motion videos, get voice overs, clone voices, write articles, and much more. With its intuitive adaptability, its cost-effectiveness , and its versatility , the tool becomes a gamechanger for creators, marketers, and entrepreneurs who seek AI-powered efficiency.

Neuro App Review: Overview of Product

Product Creator: Seyi Adeleke

Product Name: Neuro App

Launch Date: 2024-Dec-02

Launch Time: 10:00 EST

Front-End Price: $27 (One-time payment)

Official Site: Click Here To Visit Official Salespage

Product Type: Tools and Software

Support: Effective Response

Discount: Get The Best Discount Right Here!

Recommended: Highly Recommended

Bonuses: YES, Huge Bonuses

Skill Level Required: All Levels

Discount Coupon: Use Code “CYBER30” To Get 30% Off (Full Funnel)

Refund: YES, 30 Days Money-Back Guarantee

Neuro App Review: About Authors

Seyi Adeleke was created by Neuro App. He is a famous Software developer with a passion for digital marketing. People want to purchase his items since he is a well-known creator and one of the finest fighters they want to buy what he creates.

Seyi has extensive market experience and excels at staying ahead of trends. Experts have applauded his ideas like FreelancerPro AI, VoizHub AI, Pulse AI, Sonic, WebX, AI Pilot, Coursiify, Coinz, ECCO, Edge, vAI, AI Genius, VoxAI, AI Spark, Ink AI, BrainBox, Zendly, ProfitResolution, and many more of his products have done very well.

Neuro App Review: Key Features of Neuro App

✍ Unlock Every Single AI Model From One Dashboard

Never pay for any AI model ever again. Simply type a keyword (e.g., “I Want To Create 8K Videos,” “I Want To Clone My Voice,” etc.), and Neuro will instantly search & activate the world’s best premium AI models to get the job done—all within the Neuro app. Access ChatGPT, Leonard AI, DALL-E, Canva AI, Claude, Gemini, Copilot, Bard AI, MidJourney, Jasper, Stable Diffusion, Synthesia, and 90+ more powerful AI models and unlock them all with just one click without paying a cent in monthly fees or integrating any external API.

✍ Hollywood-Grade Videos in Minutes No Crew Needed

Transform your ideas into stunning 8K videos effortlessly. Whether it’s a cinematic masterpiece, an explainer video, or a social media reel, unleash the power of AI to produce high-definition, visually captivating videos that rival professional studios.

✍ Type Your Vision, Watch It Become a 4K Reality

Forget stock photos. With a single click, generate breathtaking 4K images from simple text descriptions. Perfect for campaigns, presentations, or personal use, make your visuals truly unforgettable.

✍ Launch Your Online Empire In Just 1 Minute!

Skip the tech headaches. Craft stunning websites and high-converting sales funnels in record time, without coding or expensive designers. Perfect for entrepreneurs, marketers, and dreamers ready to make an impact online.

✍ Your Personal ChatGPT Custom Built For Your Business!

Bring AI to life with custom chatbots designed to engage customers, answer questions, and increase sales. Tailor them to your brand’s voice and deploy them on your website or app instantly.

✍ Become a Voice Chameleon Clone, Create and Command!

Duplicate any voice with uncanny realism or create lifelike voiceovers for your projects. Perfect for videos, audiobooks, and commercials without hiring voice actors or paying royalties.

✍ AI That Sells Craft Words That Print Money!

Say goodbye to writer’s block! Instantly generate persuasive sales copy, email swipes, and ad campaigns optimized to convert leads into loyal customers. Sell like a pro every single time.

✍ A Brand’s Identity, Designed in Seconds!

Create bold, beautiful, and iconic logos that leave lasting impressions. Whether it’s for your business or a client’s, your designs will stand out with professional-grade quality.

✍ From Video to Blog: Transform Content Like Magic!

Maximize your content’s reach by turning any YouTube video into a well-written, SEO-optimized blog post. Perfect for repurposing ideas and dominating multiple platforms.

✍ AI Tailored to You: Any Niche, Any Business!

Create ultra-smart AI assistants for health, dating, business, and beyond. Embed them on your website and watch them handle inquiries, book appointments, or even upsell for you.

✍ You’re Studio in the Cloud Mix and Master Instantly!

Seamlessly combine and edit music tracks or audio files like a pro sound engineer. Add background music, create mashups, or tweak your recordings—all without expensive software.

✍ A Business Card That Talks, Wows, and Sells!

Say goodbye to boring paper. Share your contact info with a fully interactive, digital business card that captures attention and leaves a lasting impression, complete with dynamic designs.

✍ Turn Talk Into Text or Text Into Lifelike Speech!

Transcribe audio with unmatched accuracy or bring your text to life with human-like voices. Perfect for meetings, audiobooks, or making your ideas heard in a whole new way.

✍ Ad Campaigns That Speak to Your Audience!

Generate stunning video ads tailored to your brand’s needs. Increase engagement, drive traffic, and convert leads like never before.

✍ All-in-One Content Powerhouse!

Create everything from blogs and logos to videos and chatbots. Scale your creativity and productivity with zero limitations.

✍ Your Gateway to AI Magic It’s Just the Beginning!

With more features than we can list, the app is designed to adapt, grow, and meet your needs. Explore limitless possibilities with every click.

✍ Commercial License Included

When you get access to Neuro today, you will get a free commercial license, which will allow you to create videos for any clients you want without paying a penny extra and keeping 100% of the profit.

✍ 30-Day Money-Back Guarantee

There is zero risk for you. You get to try Neuro for 30 days, and if for any reason you don’t think it’s worth its weight in gold.

Neuro App Review: How Does It Work?

Unlock All Premium AI Models Just in 3 Clicks

Step #1: Login

Login to Neuro Intuitive Dashboard.

Step #2: Search

Search For Any AI Model That You Like (ChatGPT, Gemini, Claude, Canva, PaLM 2.0, LIama, Or Anything Else With A Click You Will Be Able To Access It With ZERO Cost, And ZERO API Needed.

Step #3: Execute & Profit

Now let it work for you, and execute anything you want Website, funnels, products, logos, videos, 4k images, branding, articles, ads, sales pages, flipbooks, software, coding, chatbots or simply anything you can imagine.

Neuro App Review: Benefits of Neuro App

Search & Unlock Any Premium AI Model You Want Without The Subscription…

Never Pay For Any AI Model You Like Ever Again…

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[generative-ai-solutions]

A Step-by-Step Guide to Building Custom Generative AI Solutions

Generative AI has emerged as a game-changer in industries ranging from healthcare to e-commerce, empowering businesses with tools to automate processes, enhance creativity, and solve complex challenges. To fully leverage its potential, developing custom generative AI solutions tailored to your business needs is essential.

This comprehensive guide will walk you through the steps of building such solutions while emphasizing how generative AI development services can streamline the process.

Understanding Generative AI and Its Applications

Generative AI refers to algorithms, like Generative Adversarial Networks (GANs) or Transformer-based models, that create new content—be it text, images, audio, or even code—based on the data they’ve been trained on. Popular examples include OpenAI's GPT models, DALL-E, and Google's Bard.

Applications of Generative AI:

Content Creation: Automating blogs, advertisements, and video scripts.

Image Generation: Designing marketing assets or game environments.

Personalization: Tailoring customer recommendations and interactions.

Healthcare Solutions: Synthesizing patient data for diagnostics or drug discovery.

Code Development: Automating repetitive coding tasks.

Investing in generative AI solutions can enable businesses to innovate faster and gain a competitive edge.

Step 1: Define the Objective and Scope

Before diving into development, identify the specific problem your generative AI solution will solve. This step involves:

Setting Clear Goals:

Are you automating content creation?

Improving customer service through chatbots?

Generating synthetic data for testing?

Identifying Key Metrics:

What does success look like? Metrics could include improved efficiency, reduced costs, or enhanced user engagement.

Understanding the Target Audience:

Define the users of your solution and their expectations.

Collaborating with generative AI development services during this phase ensures your objectives align with what is technologically feasible.

Step 2: Gather and Prepare Data

Data is the backbone of any AI model. For generative AI, you'll need a substantial dataset to train your model effectively.

Data Collection:

Collect domain-specific data that aligns with your goals. For instance, if you're building an AI to generate marketing content, gather examples of high-performing campaigns.

Data Cleaning and Preprocessing:

Remove duplicates, irrelevant information, or inconsistencies.

Annotate data where necessary to improve context and accuracy.

Leveraging Pretrained Models: Many generative AI development services use pretrained models like GPT or BERT as a foundation, reducing the amount of data required and speeding up development.

Step 3: Choose the Right Technology Stack

Building a custom generative AI solution requires the right tools and frameworks.

Key Technologies for Generative AI:

Frameworks: TensorFlow, PyTorch, or JAX.

Libraries: Hugging Face Transformers for NLP or GAN Lab for image generation.

Cloud Platforms: AWS, Google Cloud AI, or Azure AI for scalability and performance.

Hardware: GPUs or TPUs for high-performance computing.

Selecting the Model: Depending on your goal, choose a generative AI architecture:

GANs: For creating images or videos.

Transformers: For generating text or code.

VAEs (Variational Autoencoders): For feature extraction and complex data generation.

Partnering with generative AI development services ensures you select technologies that align with your project's needs.

Step 4: Develop and Train the Model

This is where the actual AI-building begins. The process involves:

Model Development:

Fine-tune existing models if using pretrained architectures.

Build custom models for unique use cases.

Training the Model:

Split your data into training, validation, and test sets.

Use iterative training methods to optimize performance.

Implement checkpoints to save the model during training.

Challenges in Training:

Computational costs can be high.

Overfitting may occur if the model learns the training data too well.

Generating diverse outputs requires careful tuning.

Step 5: Validate and Test the Solution

Testing is critical to ensure the generative AI solution meets your quality and performance standards.

Validation Techniques:

Use the validation dataset to assess the model's accuracy.

Perform qualitative testing (e.g., reviewing generated content).

Testing:

Simulate real-world scenarios to test the solution.

Monitor for biases or inaccuracies in generated outputs.

Iterate and Improve: Based on test results, refine the model to ensure reliability and effectiveness.

Step 6: Integrate the Solution into Your Workflow

Once validated, integrate the AI solution into your business processes.

Deployment Options:

Cloud Deployment: Ideal for scalability and accessibility.

On-Premises Deployment: For sensitive or regulatory-bound data.

Integration Considerations:

Ensure the solution works seamlessly with existing systems, such as CRMs or CMS platforms.

Train employees or users on how to use the new tool effectively.

Monitoring: Post-deployment, continuously monitor the solution for performance and make adjustments as needed.

Step 7: Scale and Optimize

As your needs evolve, so should your AI solution.

Scaling Strategies:

Add more data to improve model accuracy.

Expand functionalities, such as introducing multilingual support for global audiences.

Optimization:

Use techniques like pruning or quantization to make the model more efficient.

Regularly update the model to adapt to changing business environments.

Why Partner with Generative AI Development Services?

Building a custom generative AI solution is a complex endeavor that requires expertise in AI, machine learning, and software development. Partnering with professional generative AI development services offers:

Expertise: Access to skilled professionals with experience in diverse AI projects.

Faster Time-to-Market: Save time with proven development methodologies and pretrained models.

Scalability: Ensure your solution can handle future demands without major overhauls.

Cost Efficiency: Avoid costly mistakes and optimize resources with a professional team.

Reckonsys, a leader in generative AI development services, specializes in creating tailored solutions that align with your business needs.

Case Study: Transforming Business Operations with Generative AI

Problem: A retail business needed a personalized marketing campaign generator to improve customer engagement.

Solution: Leveraging generative AI solutions, the team built a custom model that created email campaigns tailored to customer preferences.

Outcome:

30% increase in customer engagement.

Reduced time spent on content creation by 50%.

Future Trends in Generative AI

As generative AI continues to evolve, expect advancements in areas such as:

Multi-Modal Models: Combining text, images, and audio in a single solution.

Real-Time Personalization: Enhancing user experiences dynamically.

Explainable AI: Making AI outputs more transparent and trustworthy.

Conclusion

Building a custom generative AI solution can transform how your business operates, fostering innovation and efficiency. By following the steps outlined in this guide and leveraging professional generative AI development services, you can unlock the full potential of this transformative technology.

To get started on your AI journey, partner with Reckonsys—a trusted provider of cutting-edge generative AI solutions designed to meet your unique business challenges.

[black-occamy]

I find it interesting, so here's my take. (Under cut, because I paste long quotes)

It's undoubtedly a difficult topic we have today and I highly recommend reading two articles - the one linked above and another one here:

They describe in detail the risks, the dangers and the difficulties surrounding AI development that we're currently observing.

One thing I'd like to point out though is the interesting ending of the second article. While I fully agree that the way data for the AI was collected was... Shady, to put it mildly, while I wholeheartedly agree that AI poses a lot of danger to the artistic and creative communities around the world and internet... This is what worries me.

OpenAI and Microsoft are also facing a lawsuit over GitHub Copilot, a code-completion AI derived from OpenAI’s GPT-3. It’s likely only a matter of time before these companies face lawsuits for using copyrighted text to train ChatGPT and GPT-4. OpenAI’s DALL-E, Google’s Bard, and other generative AI systems may also be vulnerable to litigation if plaintiffs can show they were trained with copyrighted material.

If plaintiffs win—and based on my reporting, that seems like a real possibility—that would throw this nascent industry into chaos. Many—perhaps even most—companies offering generative image and language models could be forced to shut them down. Companies would scramble to assemble public domain and licensed data sets.

Large companies like Google, Microsoft, and Meta would have an inherent advantage here. Not only would they have the cash to sign licensing deals with major copyright holders like Getty, they may also be able to get permission to use user data to train their models.

I think the long-term result would be to further entrench these large tech companies. Some of them already have leading positions in this emerging technology thanks to heavy spending on research and development. But they face competition from rivals like Stability AI, a startup that managed to train Stable Diffusion for around $600,000.

But if the company loses these lawsuits, the cost of training a cutting-edge model will rise dramatically. It may become effectively impossible for new companies to compete with the incumbents to train new models. That won’t mean the end of AI startups—the big companies will likely license out their models for use by smaller companies. But it would represent a dramatic change in the structure of the industry.

So, in the very end, it won't be the artists and content creators who benefit. It would be - as always - Google and Microsoft, who will step in with their buckets of cash and do exactly the same thing we are already afraid of - steal, but under the elegant label of "paying for resources".

There is, of course, no way a little bug like me has any influence on any of it, but as a person who is enjoying the technology I will watch all this with sadness. Because it's not the technology that is bad, but the way it's used and abused. As with everything in history, it boils down to people being dicks to one another.

Well, this would be interesting...

[ivoryminitower]

Echoes of Home: 8 - Tsu'na ("prop")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

Sleep is another thing we do not need to survive in Eorzea.  We did sleep, when we wanted to.  Husband called it "logging out".  It was good to do nothing sometimes.  It was good to do it with Husband.  Especially after sex.

But sleep is needed here.  We get tired.  I have never felt as tired as I do here.  My eyes hurt and want to close.  I cannot walk if I am tired enough.  We tried Esuna to not be tired, but it only worked for a short time, and we were more tired after.

We have not found an adventurers' guild in town.  Inns for sleeping are called "hotels" here.  They cost money.  I thought we could have used Stealth to get into one, but Husband did not want to risk being caught.

Our first night was in a place with "picnic tables".  We took turns sleeping on the bench while the other kept watch.  Husband's leg worked as a pillow.  It was cool, but not as bad as Ishgard.  Husband did not seem to think it strange that how warm it was changed so much within a day.  We talked later about "seasons".  I will need to get used to places that only sometimes have snow.

Husband surprised me the next night by wanting to use the diner.  I did not understand why he would want such a public place if he was afraid to sneak into a private one.  I did not know he had a plan.  We took turns sleeping on each other's shoulders while the other kept watch and ordered tea.  I tried the coffee when the server offered it.  I do not understand why so many hyur drink it.

Husband told me that if I should wake up while he was talking to someone I should keep my eyes closed.  I did not understand why.  It did not happen the first night, but the second night I woke up to hear him talking with the innkeeper.  I kept my eyes closed.

"I'm sorry...we just had nowhere else to go.  We tried the park, but it gets cold and we were kind of exposed."

"You think this is a hostel or something?  You can't sleep here.  I can't have homeless people hanging out in my place of business."

"I know...Look, can you just give us a while?  She's very tired and I don't want to wake her.  Maybe I could...mop the floors or do the dishes or something?  Work it off?"

I have seen my husband be many things.  I have seen him as a Paladin, holding a shield to defend me while I worked arcana.  I have seen him as a Bard, firing arrows and playing songs that energized me.  I have seen him as a healer, keeping me alive as I charged into battle.  I have seen him as a chef, a smith, a miner and a fisherman and so many other things.

That night I saw him as a beggar.  He was good at it.

"Seriously, anything you need.  I'll clean the whole damn kitchen if you want.  Just let her sleep."

No one said anything for a while.  Then the innkeeper said, "Fine, but not out here.  There's a couch in the back we use for breaks.  Start with the floor, then we'll see about the kitchen.  And don't break anything or I'm calling the Sheriff, you hear me?"

"Yes sir!  Thank you, sir!  I'll get her moved in a minute."

I kept my eyes closed as he walked away and whispered, "I was a tool."

"No, my love, this is theatre.  You were a prop."

We found the "couch" in a back room with boxes and large cans.  It was better than the bench and it was not cold.  I slept a while longer.  When I woke up, Husband showed me the "cleaning supplies" and what they were for.  So many different brushes for so many different things.  The "plastic scrubbers" were strange but useful.  "Steel wool" made so much sense that I was surprised no one thought of it in Eorzea.  And it was needed for the grill.

I joined Husband on the couch when I finished with the grill.  The innkeeper woke us in the morning.  He seemed content with our work.  He said he had never seen the grill so clean.  He said we could do this again tomorrow night if we still needed a place.

So now we have a job.  We are not getting dollars for it, but we are not spending dollars for a bed either.  And I do not need to learn to like coffee.

[the-elu-within]

D&D character idea:

an aasimar girl (calling her lavithia for brevity) who is born to nobility. in this world, aasimar are essentially the counterpart of tieflings. they are not innately good or divine, they are simply touched by celestials in the same way tieflings are touched by the hells.

nobody really understands aasimar. lavithia's family convinces everyone that her birth means that her family must be chosen by the gods themselves, and uses her to gain power in the aristocracy. she lives a childhood of superficial pampering, very little meaningful, deep emotional care from her parents, and homelander-esque staged "saves" for the public to witness firsthand.

lavithia is divine. our family is divine. we MUST rule. it is the will of the gods.

lavithia's maturity is stunted, but she wants to see the real world. be a real hero. she knows nothing of what this entails, and believes it would be just as easy as the staged saves her family set up to garner worship for her family from the public. she can be a spoiled brat, expects her party to pamper her the way everybody around her did for her entire life, and has a naïve fixation on being a hero, despite her ethical development being stunted due to lack of exposure to the real world.

conflict could arise through lavithia slowly coming to terms with the harsh realities of this life, and through her family sending servants to convince her to come home. and when she refuses, assassins, kidnappers, and bounty hunters. as such an influential family, the party catches news spreading around:

our poor little daughter has been kidnapped by a group of horrible violent ruffians! we need her back at all costs, she is in horrible danger! (dragon's hoard of a reward for her "safe return")

she'd probably be a divine soul sorcerer, since the flavor of power coming innately works with her being born into privilege, and divine soul because flavorful for aasimar. or a bard, since her primary emotional caretaker in childhood could be someone like a lyre teacher or other arts mentor.

obviously choose the noble background, give her a horrible wisdom score for true-to-rp stats, and give her lots of charisma for her upbringing surrounded by nobility and etiquette training.

i suppose cleric *could* work, but i think high wis is really unfitting for the character.

if you take inspiration from this, switch stuff around to your heart's content. maybe your lavithia is super morally principled through having one strong surrogate parental figure in the form of a servant. maybe they REALLY play up the spoiled brat thing. or maybe they already believe themselves to be a real hero from the fake saves. maybe they're on the run from their family after denouncing them, announcing that their family isn't divinely chosen, and causing them to lose favor. maybe they spent their childhood as a defiant shit who wanted any opportunity to run away because they hated the lifestyle and role, and meeting their party just provided the perfect opportunity to do so. or feel free to rip it verbatim, idc lol

[buzzdixonwriter]

Them Awful A.I. Blues...

There’s at least one storyteller in every community, somebody who helps shape the culture of that community by providing a model -- positive or negative -- on what it means to be a member of that community.

While this can mean literally to morals and ethics and rituals of a particular community, more often than not it is a story of a different time, a different place, sometimes factual, sometimes wholly imaginary, sometimes a mixture of both.

And the storyteller may be a poet, a painter, a puppeteer, or a priest.  What they do is of more importance than how they do it.

Until fairly recently -- a little less than 600 years compared to the minimum of 200,000 years of human language before that -- storytellers were typically rewarded for their performance, not their creativity.*       

They would create stories in the form of poetry and art, a few composing written works but most using oral traditions to pass the stories along.

And with rare exceptions such as dramatists hired to create a play for public performance, none were rewarded for the stories themselves but for their repeated rendition of same.

Bards would hear songs and memorize and adapt them to suit their own tastes.  When these tales proved popular enough they became part of a cultural tradition, but typically many variant versions of these stories exist with their deviations often taking on a life of their own.**

In short, the act of creativity held no value in and of itself, but the performance or presentation did.

Johannes Gutenberg changed all that circa 1440 with his printing press.

Once printing hit the scene, the actual created work itself -- or more precisely, copies of the original work -- acquired a value.  While there had been some earlier cases of lawsuits brought over unauthorized handwritten copies of religious texts, it wasn’t until works could be literally cranked out by the thousands that literary piracy (including music scores and art prints) deprived creators of rightful income and the first copyright laws were passed in the early 18th century.

For creators, this proved a bountiful era.  Cheap printed material meant more people could afford to read for pleasure, creating a market that rewarded creators for new content.  A creator of average skill and talent but a good work ethic could make a decent living for themselves by creating works for others to read or perform.

Minor glitches occurred along the way.  Inexpensive photocopying made it possible for individuals to copy otherwise hard to obtain material, computers and scanning made copying works almost cost free.

Nonetheless, most professional creators found it possible to either earn a living or supplement a day job by creating new works for the consumer market.

Corporate greed, however, began factoring in.

First in the matter of public domain.  Copyright law -- especially in the United States -- granted creators with exclusive control over their creations for a fixed period of time, after which it became public domain and anyone could use it.

The idea was to provide a carrot and stick for creators (including inventors and researchers):  The carrot of making money off one’s creativity vs. the stick of needing to constantly create new things to keep up one’s cash flow.

Corporations soon found a bypass to this: Work for hire.

Publishers and producers would hire creators to make something for them that the publisher or producer would own legally as the copyright holder regardless of the input from the actual creator.

This would be used again and again to deny creators profit participation in their own works.

A second problem arose with the expanded use of trademarks.

Historically a trademark was a name and a specific logo that was used to brand a product or service viz Coca-Cola, Shell gasoline, MacDonald’s burgers, etc.  The idea was to provide a business protection from others claiming to be them to profit off their brand value.

Unlike copyrights, trademarks need never expire.

What copyrights covered soon expanded beyond just words and logos. 

Coca-Cola trademarked their classic bottle design so no one could imitate it.  Disney trademarks Every. Damn. Iteration. of their characters in perpetuity to prevent anyone from selling unlicensed products based on old or obscure character variants.***

Copyright is now also being extended to extraordinarily long terms.  In the US during most of the 20th century copyright lasted only 28 years with the option of renewing for another 28 for a total of 56 years.

This meant some long lived creators who started young -- Irving Berlin being a prime example -- saw their earliest works enter the public domain in their lifetimes.

Granted, if your output is on par with Irving Berlin’s, you’re not going to miss a handful of your earliest efforts.

But now thanks to Disney’s shill the late Sonny Bono, “copyright protection lasts for the life of the author plus an additional 70 years.  For an anonymous work, a pseudonymous work, or a work made for hire, the copyright endures for a term of 95 years from the year of its first publication or a term of 120 years from the year of its creation, whichever expires first.” [U.S. Copyright Office]

This offers a double whammy on consumers and creators.

While it may seem that locking up a work for a century or so would be in creators’ interest, in reality it actively discourages the creation of new material in favor of keeping the old in circulation.

It prevents new creators from taking ideas from old works and applying them in new ways to contemporary creations.

And it absolutely discourages publishers and producers from seeking new concepts that would undercut the value of the old.

That’s bad enough as is.

AI is just making it worse.

Finally, the challenge of being creative in the digital era above and beyond the problem of AI.

Tech bros crowed that the internet superhighway was be a great tool for democracy insofar as it would eliminate gatekeepers.

The thing about gatekeepers is that they set some sort of entry bar.

Even before AI showed up, the number of books being published -- especially digitally -- skyrocketed.

Without gatekeepers to set minimum levels of competency, the market quickly became awash in unmemorable substandard work.

I mean, there’s always been a lot of unmemorable substandard work in every creative field, but while Ted Sturgeon’s famous observation that “90% of everything is crap” once held true, today I think the number’s more like 99%.

As I’ve posted elsewhere, all humans are satisfied with acceptable mediocrity 80% of the time.

A creative work doesn’t need to be great, just diverting.  The bulk of popular entertainment falls into well established genres and tropes.  We feel disappointed, perhaps even angered and frustrated if a work touted as belonging in a specific bin doesn’t follow at least some of the conventions of that genre.

Publishers and producers bank on that.  It’s like the movie Moneyball; you do better with a team full of reliable double hitters than a team that relies on two or three home run stars.

What AI does is to allow large corporations to produce not just a flood but a veritable tsunami of acceptable mediocrity at virtually no cost.

Here’s the paradox:

When creativity was relatively scarce and performance was the thing, creators got little if anything for the act of creating.

When copies of creative works became plentiful and inexpensive, creators -- and publishers and producers -- did well. 

Now that derivative works are ubiquitous and free, creators suffer. 

Mediocre hacks who rely on AI to fill in the broad strokes of their favorite genre are already crowding more original 100% human works, reducing the spread of appeal of quality work.

I get it that AI is here, that we’ll be seeing it in a multitude of creative uses.

To be fair, I can see a place for it in generating story prompts, coming up with background walla and sound effects for visual media, providing minor details in art the way old masters employed apprentices to paint the background of their pictures, etc.

But I think we’re entering a time when genuine human creativity and insight will be a rarity.

  © Buzz Dixon

  *  Yeah, the Koreans beat Johannes Gutenberg to the punch re movable type printing presses, but one of the drawbacks about being the Hermit Kingdom is that when you do something really cool, nobody finds out about it until centuries later.

** Case in point:  The late 18th century English song “The Unfortunate Rake” crossed the Atlantic and found a home in Appalachia, eventually making its way south to New Orleans and west to the frontier.  The Western variant is known today as “The Streets Of Laredo” while the New Orleans version is best known as “St. James Infirmary Blues”.  Here’s Betty Boop’s take on it.

*** This causes no end of confusion to people who assume because a work containing a trademarked character has slipped out of copyright that the character itself is now part of the public domain.  No; while the work itself may now be freely copied and shared, the characters therein are still protected by trademark.  This is why you can freely republish and readapt Frank L. Baum’s Wizard Of Oz but the moment you use the MGM movie’s character designs, you can expect to find yourself on the receiving end of a cease and desist lawsuit.