#deep learing

[ingoampt]

Momentum vs Normalisation in Deep learning -part 2 - day 34

Momentum and Normalization in Deep Learning Comparing Momentum and Normalization in Deep Learning: A Mathematical Perspective Momentum and normalization are two pivotal techniques in deep learning that enhance the efficiency and stability of training. This article explores the mathematics behind these methods, provides examples with and without these techniques, and demonstrates why they are…

[ghostatrandom]

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Guys I am so normal about Paulo like so normal I had to draw him in the hybrid AU because of how normal am I-

[emobatsy]

i think what strikes me so much about amc iwtv is how obsessed the cast is with their character and the other's characters. not as in oh my god i love them but as in. i put genuine work into understanding whats happening, here is a 5k essay on the backstory of this one 0.3 second long grimace change in a 7 minute outburst kind of thing.

when all you have are set scenes and dialogues you COULD half ass it and just do that. but the sheer commitment to go all out, the work that goes into that, how harrowing it is emotionally and physically to work through things as your character. for your character. thats just what blows me away.

and i think a lot of that resonates bc of working theatre. like you have this text from 400 yrs ago and its just words and you can't ask the author what's going on. so you're relying on interpretations from other people and ultimately have to decide whether thats enough or whether you're the kind of person to go "in my mind, i'm saying this bc of xyz". and you talk to your castmates and they riff off you. and then a single exchange of 2 lines turns, for you, into an unravelling of years of backstory that you convey with the flick of a wrist.

idk it's just special to me to see it happen with this show.

[thebirdandhersong]

Just started TLJ for fun because it was a Long Day and I wanted some form of distraction that didn't involve the current Ghost Crew kinda high stakes episode I was halfway through and I must say..... this is so strange to me

[neverendingford]

.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

"I Love You" in Shakespearean English

Did my heart love til now? Forswear it, sight. For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night (Romeo and Juliet)

For where thou art, there is the world itself, With every several pleasure in the world, And where thou art not, desolation (Henry VI)

Hear my soul speak, Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly at your service (Twelfth Night)

I burn, I pine, I perish (The Taming of the Shrew)

I do love nothing in the world so well as you (Much Ado About Nothing)

I humbly do beseech of your pardon, For too much loving you (Othello)

I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, ‘I love you’ (Henry V)

I love you more than words can wield the matter (King Lear)

I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest (Much Ado About Nothing)

I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes (Much Ado About Nothing)

I would not wish any companion in the world but you (The Tempest)

Lady, as you are mine, I am yours. I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange (Much Ado About Nothing)

My love is as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite (Romeo and Juliet)

O beauty, Till now I never knew thee (Henry VIII)

One half of me is yours, the other half yours - Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, And so all yours (The Merchant of Venice)

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate (Sonnet XVIII)

So is mine eye enthrallèd to thy shape (A Midsummer Night’s Dream)

Sweet, above thought I love thee (Troilus and Cressida)

Thou art wise as thou art beautiful (A Midsummer Night’s Dream)

When you depart from me sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave (Much Ado About Nothing)

Source ⚜ More ways to say "I love you" ⚜ Terms of Endearment Word Lists: Love Pt. 1 Pt. 2 ⚜ Physiology of Love ⚜ Synonyms ⚜ Kinds of Love

[fangsandfeels]

I've seen the "Non-ascended Astarion ending is bad for him because you have to persuade him to reject the ritual" opinion...

..implying that he never really wanted not to ascend, it's you the player who selfishly forces him to give up on his goal. To prove their point, they state that you can get a good ending out of all other companion's quests without using Persuasion at all, except for Astarion.

And boy did I want to talk about this...

(In fact, everything I wanted to say has already been told in this amazing meta post, but I still gotta ramble)

First of all, Astarion was going through an intense PTSD. The game gave him a debuff to show how badly going back to the place of his torment was affecting him. Larian couldn't make it more obvious that he wasn't thinking clearly.

Second, there is one thing all abusers have in common: they destroy their victim's feelings of self-worth to the point, the victim no longer wants or knows how to ask for help or have relationships outside their abusive circle.

Who would want you like this? Look at yourself, you think you're better than me? You're nothing. Who would want to waste their time on you? You think somebody else would treat you better?

Since entering the Cazador's palace, Astarion is reliving his worst moments. Initially, he takes it in stride, hiding his discomfort underneath performative and emotional expressiveness. He talks about how he spent time in the bedrooms where he never did any sleeping, about the kennels where he was tortured, about the barracks where he was sent to when he "deserved neither carrot nor stick". Bad memories, but he shares them with Tav because he trusts them with his scars already. They might as well know the rest.

But after descending into the dungeon, Astarion starts spiraling into self-loathing at a break-neck speed. He used to think that all Cazador victims he ever brought to him were long gone, drained, and discarded. A horrible, undeserved death, yet the thought of them not having to suffer for too long was a small consolation, one of the threads holding his sanity together.

But then it turns out that they weren't dead. They were turned. Locked away deep underground, alone with their new selves, with the hunger and isolation. They did suffer. All these years, they suffered, buried in this tomb - because of him. Cazador may have turned them, but it was Astarion who brought them to him. And they remembered it. They recognized him. The monster who stole them from their home. The monster who ruined their life. Monster. Just like Cazador.

So, as if his PTSD wasn't enough, this revelation was another blow to his grip on himself, his perception of himself. His confident facade was shattering - and in his head, he was starting to think that Tav's idea of him, of who he is, was shattering as well. He tried to warn them before. He said he couldn't be what they saw in him. Whatever person they believed him to be had never existed - and Tav was finally coming to realize that as they walked through the gallery of his sins, looking his victims in the eyes and hearing out what they had to say. Of course, Tav hated him now. They had to. How could they not?

So, at the end, he is scared. Terrified. He bit off more than he could chew by walking into the manor and thinking he had only six fellow spawns to deal with. He saw their lives as a small price to pay because Cazador made sure to erase any solidarity between them. He made them torture each other and compete with each other. He twisted the very meaning of family bonds to his perverted liking, and he knew that by doing so, he would make sure every single one of them would get a whiplash from anyone trying to mention family in a positive connotation. Astarion takes no issue with getting rid of his "brothers" and "sisters" because he is fully aware that had the roles been reversed, they would have sacrificed him without a second thought. And he was certain that Tav would change their mind once they learned more about his brethren.

But the spawns in the dungeon...All the faces he remembered. All the lovers he lured. They did nothing wrong. They never hurt him. They never tortured him. Their only mistake was to trust him.

The revelation horrifies him. His first response is to be shocked, overwhelmed with emotion - and then he has to remind himself that sacrifices must be made. He feigns indifference. He tries to cover his internal conflict with gallows humor. But his flippant mask keeps slipping as he lapses from indifference to anger, to guilt, to begging Tav not to hate him as his greatest crimes glare back at him and claw at him, shouting out threats and seething with hatred.

He can't bear the thought of dealing with all the people whose lives he helped to destroy. He can't do anything for them. Just killing Cazador won't undo what he did to them. He will never be anything but a monster in their eyes. And this is what he deserves to be. He will always be reminded of what he is.

He has no choice but to do the Ritual.

He has no idea what will happen to him after he is done - he isn't a planner. He has never been. But at this point, he doesn't see his soul as something worthy of preserving - and by association, he extends that to other spawns. He knows it all too well because he remembers how it felt. He dissociates, projecting everything he hated about himself onto Cazador's victims, trying to rationalize why he should live and why they must die while he actively avoids the truth.

Completing the ritual is no longer about being free. Or protecting himself and his lover. It's about running away. Even when Astarion has Cazador at his mercy, he still thinks of running away. Getting lost forever. So nobody could ever hurt him.

A part of him even realizes that it means running away from Tav too. But Tav can leave, he naively thinks, not knowing the full consequences of the ritual. Tav will leave to find someone else, someone better, and he will start everything anew, a king of his castle.

So, of course, Tav has to reach out to him through that thick haze of fear, anger, and self-hatred. Persuasion isn't about strongarming someone into doing what you want. It's not subjugation or emotional blackmail. It's reasoning with someone. And that is exactly what Tav does - reasons with Astarion after watching him mentally struggle, after seeing his genuine shock and fear, after understanding that he isn't fully on board with the idea.

It's true, vampire spawns tend to gravitate toward power, especially if nothing is pulling them back. A vampire spawn is a feared and scorned creature - it no longer matters whether they were an unwilling victim, forcefully taken and turned. They are seen not as an individual but as the extension of their master - and the only natural transition for them is to get on the top of the food chain. The only way to make a name and become treated as something more.

Astarion saw power as the mean to safety and freedom, first and foremost. Ironically, he never planned beyond securing these two priorities. He never saw himself after accomplishing his goals, and it's kinda amazing how people can make conclusions about his hedonism because he misses petty vanities, wants to drink blood from a goblet, and sleep on silken sheets. The man who was held and tortured in the kennels, fed rats, and had to stitch and fix his only set of clothes over and over to keep it presentable, the man who has never felt happy for most of his conscious non-life is called hedonistic for wanting nice things. For still wanting to take care of himself for once.

He wasn't harboring any grand plans, conquests, or schemes. Even his idea of taking control of the Absolute was abstract and shapeless because he didn't care about getting control over the most influential people as much as he was afraid of breaking whatever protected him from Cazador's domination. He never really knew what to do with power aside from keeping Cazador and the likes of him at bay.

The way Astarion behaves in a relationship also speaks tons of how controlling he really is...or how he isn't controlling at all. When his romance with Tav transforms into something real, and he enters a new territory, Astarion is empowered to make decisions and think about what he wants instead of pleasuring others. It's clear that he and Tav don't have sex after they come clear about their feelings. Tav respects his comfort and boundaries, gives him all the time he needs, and lets him take the lead. Whether they will have sex again or not is entirely up to Astarion. Whatever he decides, it won't change Tav's feelings for him. He doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to do.

Astarion enjoys this new autonomy. He is playful, affectionate, outspoken...and afraid of messing everything up. If Tav mentions breaking up, Astarion thinks he is the problem. If there is another potential love interest showing they have eyes for Tav, Astarion encourages Tav to be with them because he believes they can give Tav everything he can't. When Tav says "I choose you," Astarion is taken aback, needing a moment to hide his genuine confusion at Tav actually wanting to be with him rather than Gale, Karlach, or Halsin.

For all his talks of control and dominating others, once Astarion finds himself with a lover who values his autonomy more than getting power at the cost of his dignity, who makes it safe for him to be honest, and who listens to him, he almost stops mentioning control. He merely lives in the moment, happy not to know, not to pretend, not to manipulate. Just to be.

What Astarion truly craves - not wants on a superficial level, not conditioned to want - is not to be a vampire lord. He wants the freedom to be anything. Anything he wants. Little does he know that true vampires rarely get to be anything they want, even if they gain the ability to walk in the sun -- we see it in his Ascended path as, instead of acting up on his supposed freedom to be anything, Astarion repeats Cazador's rules step by step. Just like Cazador did. Just like Verlioth did. He isn't anything he wants. He is the replica of his former master.

Astarion never had the luxury to explore who he wanted to be outside what Cazador made him. He only makes his first steps once he is free. We see glimpses of that deep-seated aspiration to be seen as a person. Treated like a person. Loved like a person. To be reflected in someone's eyes. He wants to know if there is someone beneath his usual mask, something his, not tainted by Cazador. Someone real. And at the same time, he dreads to know the answer. Because that part of him knows regret. Knows shame. Knows guilt. Confronting it posed the risk of realizing he didn't deserve love, kindness, or a future. What if real him truly doesn't amount to anything? What else for him to do?

So, he tells himself that he has no choice, and he expects Tav to affirm it -- not because he wants them to, but because he believes that Tav has seen enough to make the same conclusion. However, Tav objects, trying to be louder than all the inner demons hissing into his ears. Tav speaks to the Astarion, who asked them what they saw when they looked at him. The Astarion, who thanked them for standing by his side when he said "No" to Araj. The Astarion one who stood frozen in their hug before returning it tentatively. The Astarion who diligently, dedicatedly, caringly kept pulling himself together instead of letting himself unravel completely.

Tav reminds him that this Astarion, right here, right now, is worth fighting for. That he didn't survive all these years of torture, pain, humiliation, and dehumanization to give himself up now. He already has the power to avenge himself, avenge all Cazador's victims. He can end everything right here, right now - and this is the only power to free him. He has the power (and responsibility) of having a choice.

Tav empathizes with other spawns as victims not because they're more "innocent" than Astarion, but because associating with them doesn't brand Astarion as weak or broken. These spawns aren't horrible wretches, and neither is he. They don't deserve this, and neither did he.

The only one who deserves to die today is Cazador - the vampire, the monster, the pathetic piece of shit.

Astarion Ancunin deserves to live.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

You and Eddie get into an argument about the girl he's giving guitar lessons too. Angst, misunderstandings and bad communication ensues.

Warnings. Mdni. 18+ only, angst. Miscommunication and misunderstandings. Idiots in love. Jealousy.

💞

You and Eddie had been together for a few months and up until this point you had never had a cross word.

He had been giving some girl guitar lessons, her name was Britney and she was gorgeous, amazingly cool and hilarious.

Tonight you had walked in on them laughing together and looking all cosy. Something in you kinda broke inside, it was ridiculous because you knew Eddie would never cheat, but you still felt your stomach bottom out.

Hearing Eddie gush about Britney and how metal she was and was like a rockstar on the guitar didn't help either.

You weren't proud of it but you were quiet and a little less warmer than you'd usually be and when Britney made excuses to leave, you were left wracked with guilt.

Eddie had rounded on you asking ''Why were you being such a bitch?" and that had made you even more pissed and the argument ensued.

"I'm sorry that walking in on my boyfriend looking so fucking cosy with someone else put me in a bad mood" you bite back at him and Eddie's big brown eyes darken in rage.

"You're being fucking ridiculous right now you know that?" it hurt hearing Eddie say that and you lashed out without thinking about what you were saying.

"Oh so I'm ridiculous because I hate seeing some girl make gooey eyes at my boyfriend, I'm such a bad girlfriend for being a little bit wary" Eddie shakes his head and the temperature in the room turns colder.

"Or it's obvious that you don't fucking trust me. So if you don't trust me then what's the fucking point?" your breath hitches and there's a deep pit of gloom and dread, in your stomach.

"Are you breaking up with me?" you whimper and want to take back everything you said, tell him that of course you trust him but you're so stunned, your heart is breaking.

Without another word you storm out before Eddie can confirm your worst fears.

❤️

Instead of going home you go straight to Nancy's who immediately digs out some ice cream and let's you cry out all the heartache, you both stay up most of the night but end up crashing around 5am.

Nancy is ready up and getting ready for school, you have the worst headache and just want to sleep a little longer so she leaves you to sleep, brings you up some pancakes and freshly squeezed orange juice that Mrs Wheeler kindly made up for you.

In return you help her around the house, trying anything to take your mind of your heartache about Eddie.

When Nancy comes back home she gently explains that Eddie has been calling you and is worried that you haven't answered.

"I think you need to listen to what he has to say honey, he looks a wreck, I think he's driving Mike and the rest of the kids here after Hellfire so if you want to wait"

Nervously you nod and try to calm your anxious mind that Eddie is going to break up with you for good.

By the time that you hear Eddie's van and he's parked outside, you're on tenterhooks. Eddie looks like he's barely slept, his hair is messier than usual and he has the saddest look in his beautiful brown eyes.

That look makes you want to burst into tears there and then. You hate that you're the cause.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry, his voice is rougher than normal, his hands are shaking and you reach out to steady them.

"I'm sorry too Eddie. I was a bitch and rude and of course I trust you, I trust you with my life and I hate that I made you think otherwise" his eyes fill with pain and he swallows.

"I shouldn't have called you a bitch. I've been a mess since you left and I was worried as shit when you weren't answering your phone, Mike told me you stayed here last night with Nance so I knew I would come here as soon as I could"

The tension slowly begins to leave your body and you feel soothed as Eddie pulls you in his arms

"Also Britney has just started dating Gareth, she was learning guitar to impress him and I was teaching her how to play his favourite song."

Fuck. "I'm so sorry Eddie" he softens and kisses your forehead.

"Even if she was interested I don't care. I'm not interested in her. How could you think I'd want her or anyone when I already have the most amazing, beautiful princess"

A warm fluttery feeling pools in your belly and you cuddle into Eddie and peer at him sadly.

"I just got insecure when you talked about how badass Britney was on the guitar and how metal she was" Eddie strokes your cheek and you melt into his touch.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I didn't realise that was bothering you. Honestly yeah she's metal and pretty badass at the guitar but she's not you. She's not the one I'm head over heels in love with. You are"

"Oh" well shit, you'd definitely fucked up and misread everything. This is the first time Eddie has said I love you. It's a big deal for him, you know that and it is for you too.

"I'd never cheat on you or hurt you princess, I'm so in love with you" Tears roll down your cheeks and you kiss him fiercely.

"I love you too Eddie, I should have tried better at communicating with you" You sigh and cuddle into him, feeling calmer than you have in days.

"We both should learn to communicate better" he corrects you and you nod. It feels like a weight has been lifted of you.

"I really should apologise to Britney too" he hums in agreement.

"She thinks your really cool by the way and she put up with me constantly gushing about you"

Shit. Yeah you definitely have to apologise. In fact you make that your next mission first thing on Monday morning.

For now you were just going to bask in Eddie's love for a little while.

Britney as it turns out is a total sweetheart about the whole thing when you speak to her first thing on Monday and excitedly tells you about her dates with Gareth and how she played him the song Eddie taught her.

Not only do you gain the start of a friendship with Britney but you and Eddie are more in love than ever.

🫶

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The scent of memory

Pairing : (implied) Caesar x human reader

Warning: FLUFF

Summarize (you'll never see me write a good one 😭): You started to cook a meal dear to your heart when a certain ape decided to pay you a visit.

Words: 2K

A/N: I tried a little something, I hope you'll like it! Enjoy your reading 😊 I lowkey feel a bit insecure about this one but shhh I just wanted to get this out of my mind

Masterlist.

There were surprises every day. Ever since you joined Caesar's clan, you'd spent your time learning what your human life had never taught you: to use what nature offered and adapt it to the needs of the community.

And there was a lot to learn. So Caesar asked Maurice to teach you, to teach you the way of the apes. You were a quick learner, but you never gave yourself too much credit: Maurice was a good teacher, patient and clear in what he showed you. Regardless of the activity, he always found the best way to help you master the techniques for weaving ropes or fine plant stems and knotting them, for whittling wood to create stakes or notches, for carving stone to make weapons… Maurice taught you to identify plants and mushrooms, the edible ones, the healing ones, the poisonous ones. One day, he even took you with him into the forest to learn how to track small game. Not that hunting was one of your favorite activities, and even if you still needed a bit of work in that area, being able to find and track game added a usefulness to your presence within the clan.

Being useful. That was all that mattered to you, and often, when night fell and Maurice left you to your own activities, you continued the work. You'd weave again and again until you obtained the exact density and solidity you were looking for. You could spend several hours whittling a piece of wood to the right angle or thickness. Carving stone required more strength and dexterity. You often ended up with scratches on your hands, but if that meant being useful, then you'd take all the cuts and scratches necessary to master these techniques.

With Maurice, you learned the manual stuff. But there was one last thing you needed to learn. Something that took time to communicate: sign language.

Caesar always found a moment in his day to teach you. You weren't sure why he'd appointed himself as your teacher for this language, but it gave you the opportunity to spend some time with him. And over time, you learned to savor those brief moments when he showed you a new word.

Moments of peace.

It was a strange thing to feel serenity in the face of this force of nature that was Caesar. Strong, powerful but also fair and caring. All he had to do was stand there, and all eyes were on him. He attracted loyalty and respect like a magnet, and everyone was bound to succumb to his power. And yet, in contradiction to the unsettled beating of your heart, you felt a deep sense of calm as you spent these moments beside him.

You looked forward to his daily interventions, brief and occasionally strict if you didn't place your hands correctly to form a word, as if they were a reward.

Yes, you spent most of your time learning.

However, on rare occasions, you did have time for yourself, or rather, you allowed yourself to take this time after lessons, without practicing. You mostly used it to wash your clothes or cook. On the days when a touch of nostalgia crept into you, you cooked meals from your old life. Back when you still lived in the city.

You couldn't always find all the ingredients you needed for the recipes you now know almost by heart, but you always managed to replace what was missing. Thanks in no small part to Maurice's teaching. And when you cooked, a sweet aroma would delightfully fill the space of your hut.

Tonight was one of those days when nostalgia rang at your door. You had decided to cook a ratatouille. A simple, unadorned meal, but one in which most of the ingredients were available to you in the village: cultivating the land was also one of the things you had to learn.

You carefully chopped your vegetables, some of them already immersed in an old iron pan you'd picked up on one of Maurice's supervised outings. The aroma of the tomato melted deliciously with that of the onion, and each portion of vegetable you added to your preparation pleasantly tingled your nostrils. You remembered how, as a little girl, you used to complain that you still had to eat vegetables while your mother sliced them with a smirk on her face: “You can decide on your meal when you grow up, and to grow up, you need to eat vegetables”. At the time, you thought this was the smartest thing a person could say, and it couldn't be further from the truth. Vegetables made you grow and when you grew up, you could choose not to eat them.

You inhaled deeply, savoring the fragrance's journey through your body until it reached your lungs. You almost wanted to hold your breath, letting the aromas mingle and swirl, but perhaps too soon, you exhaled, opening your eyes. How long had it been since you closed them? You weren't sure, but your heart skipped a beat when your gaze fell on the one of an unexpected ape.

“C… Caesar?”

His name falling on your lips was the signal that you had just become aware of his presence. He had watched you lose yourself in your thoughts and chosen to remain on the threshold of your hut, not wishing to disturb your deep reflections, whatever they might be. So he waited for a gesture, a mimic, a simple sign that you had become aware of his presence, before stepping forward.

As he drew closer, a tantalizing scent came wafting up his muzzle, and you couldn't help noticing his nostrils taking in a few breaths of the aroma. In fact, he glanced at your pan placed directly on the small fire, showing you that he had just identified where the smell was coming from.

Caesar plopped down beside you, always sitting so that he could read what was going on in your eyes. He often made the excuse that this way, you could more easily see and learn the words he was signing to you, which was true, but secretly, he enjoyed being able to study the slightest expression that ventured across your face.

And you were obviously entitled to a surprise quiz on your knowledge of sign language.

Caesar took care to sign slowly, stopping when he saw a doubt creeping into your eyes, sometimes repeating the sign that was obviously causing you difficulty in understanding, until you were able to correctly state the question he had just asked you, not without a touch of pride at your success.

“ You're not eating with the colony?”

You think for a moment, looking at your hands to try to find the right gestures.

“ Want to spend some time… ”

And when you couldn't find the right word, you said it out loud again.

“Alone.” You finished, silently asking him about the right sign for this word.

He looked at you for a moment, taking in your answer, before giving you the sign for the word “ alone ”. You repeated it to memorize it, and Caesar simply nodded when you signed it correctly. A comfortable silence settled between you and he glanced once more at the vegetables simmering quietly. The delicate sound of crackling food blended perfectly with the crackling of wood being devoured by flames.

You weren't done adding the last ingredients, and you took Caesar's silence as a signal that he wouldn't be asking anything more from you right now, so you set about crumbling the fresh thyme stalks on top of your preparation.

Caesar stared at the vegetables, their sweet aromas tingling his nostrils in waves, and when your hands appeared in his field of vision, he couldn't help but watch your fingers meticulously work around the thyme stems, creating a shower of tiny leaves over your meal. And as the food bubbled, the scent of thyme mingling with the other vegetables wafted up from the pan. For a brief moment, he felt as if a magic trick had been played on him, and his green eyes found their way to yours.

He knew about cooking. He knew that humans cooked every meal they ate, with the exception of a few that could be eaten raw, such as fruit and certain vegetables. He'd seen, and sometimes even tasted, when his humans' backs were turned, some of the meals and cakes they'd left on the table in the living room of his former home. But if he'd seen the finished products, how they were made remained a mystery. Will had never taken the time to show him how he cooked his meals. So there was something… wonderfully intriguing about seeing you at work.

Your gaze was still on the pot, and as you stirred the ingredients with a piece of stick from which you'd peeled the bark, you took a deep breath. Caesar watched your eyelids flutter and close as a smile crept over your face, as if a distant memory had just gently brushed over your mind.

You felt at home, and Caesar could have fallen even deeper in adoration at the serene, contented face you offered him, if he hadn't forced himself to avert his gaze, which he knew was sometimes too intense for you to bear. It was something he took note of mentally when he looked at you intently with the simple aim of learning the core of your entire soul. When his eyes settled on you for a little too long, you had this habit of rolling your shoulders, as if to rid yourself of some invisible tension, a self-conscious smile tacked to your lips, while your arms wrapped tightly around your chest to protect yourself from his inspection.

Caesar decided to keep his gaze on the contents of your pan, figuring it would be easier to suppress the gentle tingling sensation that was creeping traitorously into the pit of his stomach.

“It's… a meal that… my mother used to cook for me.” You spoke fondly, but with a hint of incertitude in your voice.

You didn't talk much about your past, just as Caesar didn't talk much about it either. Hearing you mention a memory that seemed to be cherished in your heart, though not sure it was the right thing to do, had softened the usually serious expression on Caesar's face.

Caesar nodded quietly, accepting your recollection as a gift, a token of trust. Even if these memories were attached to humans and to life before the release of the apes, they were memories that made you who you were today. Not allowing or accepting them would be like not accepting… you. And Caesar was already far beyond that.

You smiled again, your gaze lost in your memories. It was hard for him to understand how a simple scent could take you so far in thought, but after all, it wasn't for him to judge the complex emotions that must have been running through you at that moment.

“The same food?”

Caesar's gruff voice caught your attention, and a hint of joy lit up your face at his sudden interest in your past.

“Not quite.” You replied, still smiling. “I take the peppers off, I don't like them,” you giggled.

He huffed, slightly entertained by what seemed to be hiding a more detailed story you'd shared with your mother and didn't yet want to tell.

The smell was so tempting, it was hard to deny it. He watched you pick up the pot using a thick piece of cloth, so as not to burn yourself, and serve you a portion of food in a bowl. It was then that he caught himself thinking that maybe, some day, you'd agree to share with him this meal that seemed so dear to you.

[sugawarassoulmate]

not nut november - nov 04/nov 05

after the first few days, they were feeling great. then the weekend came.

tutor!akaashi & shitty bf!daishou

word count: 423 & 290

cw: fem!reader, bimbo!reader, unprotected sex, cheating/infidelity, choking, minors dni

tutor!akaashi

who even does studying on a saturday night? akaashi does, which means you have to too

you're in one of the study rooms at the campus library, which feels a little redundant since it's practically abandoned on a saturday night

"what act and scene is this line from?" akaashi asks, cooly. he's been quizzing you on king lear for the past three hours, making sure you knew could identify the passages for your midterm

"act three, scene two?" you guess but akaashi's eyes already tell you that you're wrong. "ugh, can we take a break, keiji? my brain is turning to mush!"

akaashi would argue that your brain was mush to begin with but there's no use continuing when you've already given up

there was one way he could motivate you to keep studying — it was for your own good really, you weren't smart enough to pass this exam just by winging it

but he remembers the bet he made with his friends earlier this week something about not having sex during the whole month. it was stupid but he knew he'd never hear the end of it from bokuto if he lost

akaashi supposes he could just eat you out while you study but nothing does the trick more than making you sit on his cock, making you read out his notes while you bounce in his lap...

it's not long before akaashi has you bent over the desk, skirt flipped up and panties pushed to the side. "come on, don't just think with your pussy, recite the line for me," he says, pulling you by the hair

"ahhh, 'when thou dost ask me blessing, i'll'—fuck, keiji!" you cry when he pulls out only to slam back into you.

a slap to your ass is what brings you back to reality. "'i'll...i'll kneel down and ask of thee forgiveness' uhhh, act five, scene three?" you answered, crying when akaashi's fingers circle your clit.

"look at that, she's finally using her little brain," akaashi coos, snapping his hips harder into you. "read the next one." he says, knowing this is the only way you'll pass

he can say it's for your benefit as much as he wants to but akaashi is just as guilty of thinking with his crotch, maybe even more so

akaashi only lets you cum when you've gone through all of the study guide and he rewards you by spilling his seed deep inside your womb and walking you to your dorm with his cum running down your leg

shitty bf!daishou

saturdays are meant for your girlfriend. taking her on dates and watching shows with her

but it's not saturday and you're not daishou's girlfriend, which is why he's technically not breaking any no nut november rules right now

his friends explicitly said that fucking your girl was off limits for the entire month

which is why he turned to you the first chance he got

"sugu!" the two of you barely made it past your door, with daishou pouncing on you the second he shut it behind him

now he's got you spread out on your floor, a hand wrapped around your throat

"shhh, i know, babe," he whispers, pace never letting up as he abuses your cunt. "you're gonna take all my cum this month, yeah? be my fuckin' cum dump?"

it's so sick and your heart breaks for mika, completely unaware that her boyfriend is balls deep in someone else—someone she calls a friend

but you nod anyway because for an entire month daishou's body will belong to you

mika will have to wonder about the faint smell of your perfume on his clothes, wondering why it smells so familiar

it's pathetic and cruel and so unlike you but it's what you want more than anything

"yes, yes, sugu! i want your cum," you gasp, nails running down his back "i'll take all of it, just give it to me, please!"

and daishou just loves the desperation, grunting a quick "that's my girl," before fucking you harder than ever

and as your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you feel the warmth of daishou's cum flooding your cunt, all that goes through your head is his voice saying "that's my girl," over and over

©sugawarassoulmate 2023 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Nothing major yet, some minor Honkai: Star Rail spoilers. Word count: 4.6k.

Nexus index.

On the planet Eris, in the city of Perianth II, night reigns, for there is no star close enough to challenge its rule. 

Deep within the bowels of the metropolis lit only by manmade contraptions, sits a bar known as LOTUS-EATER, carved into the cragged terrain as if it’d always been there. It had not, in fact, contrary to local legend. Had the IPC not run into issues with overcrowded prisons, this planet they now consider a scourge would never have had the means to limp on. 

Easy solutions cultivate the conditions for worse problems to develop later on. 

This is what your mother — a shrewd woman to her core — instilled in you. 

Grimacing, you reread the words on your screen for the umpteenth time. 

… You wish she had instilled some business management skills instead. 

“Miss Exalted-One-Ma’am, when are you coming back inside? This client is refusing to leave until he can speak with you. Lear is running interference, but that’s going as well as you can imagine,” a feminine voice calls out. 

You glance up fast enough to assess her expression. Despite the severity of her words, she’s smiling, amber eyes crinkling by the corners. Her chestnut-colored hair is worn in a braid that extends down the length of her back, meaning she hasn’t clocked out yet, or else it’d be loose. You have some wiggle room, then.

“Nona,” you beckon her over, “What do you think this means?” 

Inquisitive creature she is, she doesn’t waste this opportunity to poke around in your private matters. Her eyes flitter back and forth as she takes in the contents of your phone. Interlocking her hands behind her back, she hums. 

“Looks like we’re due for a visit.” 

“That’s what you gathered too?” You murmur. “What a mess this is turning into. The last thing we need is for the hounds to start sniffing around.” 

“I dunno what you’re frazzled about, exalted one. The locals wouldn’t cough up info to the IPC even if their life depended on it.” 

“Therein lies your answer — the locals won’t, but our clientele is vast as the universe is infinite. Someone looking to score quickly could put in a tip. The hounds are just itching for an excuse to put an embargo on Eris again.” 

She shrugs. “Outsiders bribed and snuck their way in last time, they would now too. Benefits of a quality product.” 

You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose. Nona means well, but if she thinks in such simple terms, her training period won’t ever end. Or perhaps you’re being a tad too harsh on the girl, you haven’t slept since receiving this text message two cycles ago. If it weren’t for how scarce this technology is, you would’ve smashed it to pieces for causing you such prolonged strife. 

Alas, as a native of Eris, there are two things you intrinsically cherish above all else — any object that emits light and the special nectary cradled within the planet. 

“I’ll take your input into—” 

A shrill shriek cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. 

“The hysterical client, I reckon,” Nona dryly remarks. “Now, can you please come in before Lear gets stabbed? If it isn’t already too late.” 

You don’t bother dignifying her macabre speculation with a reply. You enter through a back door accessible only to LOTUS-EATER staff, weaving around boxes of cargo that need to be sorted. A heady, aromantic scent clings to the wood, yet its temptation is long lost on you. Where the clients indulge, you abstain. The livelihood of yourself and your workers relies heavily on your psyche’s clarity. 

Emerging from the back rooms has you standing on the building’s second floor, an area known as The Lounge. Here, the spherical, gravity-defying emitters of lights standard in this region are set dimly. This latest model even allows you to adjust the dimensions, ranging from small enough to fit in the palm of your hand to the size of a room. There was supposed to be one more on this floor, but while unpacking the order, it slipped from Lear’s hands and met an early demise. Great cooperation was needed to locate the glass that floated to the ceiling. 

You check the status of occupancies. Two private rooms are in session, the other eight are empty. By your design, it had been a slow night. You gave orders to the receptionist, Thalia, to only book appointments for influential customers, just in case the omen floating over your head comes true. You walk down the hallway which leads to the first floor, only to notice cool colors set in a square array by the digital lock. 

The sight doesn’t sit right with you. You consider taking a detour to investigate, only for the commotion downstairs to encourage otherwise. 

“Sir, if you’d please calm down—”

Lear’s gentle voice is cut off by another. 

“I demand to speak with her,” it heaves. “The mind witch. Where is she?” 

The electronic curtains that lift for those put into the LOTUS-EATER’s database part in a magnificent flurry of scarlet hues. You feel each set of eyes that glance your way. It’s a typical ensemble present — affluent travelers, political emissaries, and well-to-do merchants. Some drink at the bar, others watch the live entertainment playing soft music. Everyone aside from the heaving interloper is dressed in the formalwear expected of the establishment. 

The click of your heels against the dark wood floor reverberates throughout. The man’s reaction to your appearance is delayed, though he eventually turns his head to see where Lear is looking. Resentment contorts his face upon spotting you. You recognize him. Jay R. Alister, a client who gave Thalia a difficult time due to his demands to have a Synalink booking today. You thought you smoothed over the matter by granting him access to the first floor, The Club, and placing him on a priority list for next time. 

Copious amounts of alcohol must’ve unraveled your hard work. 

“Shall we take a moment to collect ourselves, sir?”

“No one— no one understands,” he insists, swaying ever so slightly. It’s a peculiar sight. One message from a handful of the individuals present would be enough to spell doom for Alister, this charade likely already has him blacklisted across multiple star systems. To be a client at LOTUS-EATER is a privilege. Everyone adheres to the unspoken rule of the honor system, eliminating the need for security inside. 

“I’d like to, Mr. Alister, if you wouldn’t mind explaining to me outside.” 

He’s drunk, but a low-level link can be established, you surmise. It isn’t an option without risks. As a recurring client, he could catch onto the invasive feeling and grow further agitated. The eyes fixated on you grow heavier. Some are curious, others bemused, and a few pass silent judgment, comparing your capabilities with the previous Exalted Arbiter. 

He blinks slowly. “My Roze… she’s upstairs. She’s waiting for me. I can’t— can’t be late…” 

“You won’t be,” your voice takes on a concerned lilt, “Let’s go meet her elsewhere. Follow me and I’ll take you to her.” 

A white ring forms around his pupils. 

“You… will?” 

“I will. Come, now, we wouldn’t want to waste any more of her time, would we?” 

The ring goes from opaque to solid. 

The low-level link has been made manifest. You feel the thread connecting you to the essence that makes Jay R. Alister himself. 

You stride past him and he immediately scrambles to follow. Out of the corner of your eye, you note how Lear’s shoulders relax and give him a reassuring nod. He did a good job stalling until you could personally see to this matter yourself. If this had occurred any other time, it would’ve been your top priority, but a far more sensitive issue threatened to ensnare you in a worrisome web. 

One after another, the pairs of eyes fall, like a flying pest in its final moments. Conversation resumes and the music increases in volume. 

Cool air embraces you once you’re outside. This particular region is well-lit, a testimony to its prestige. Restaurants, boutiques, and other fine shops have been built with walls of dark stone naturally found on Eris for better insulation. The once rugged streets are smooth, painstakingly cobbled together by a city planner many Amber Eras ago. Any crack has molten gold poured into it so that when it dries, the ground beneath your feet is a never-ending sea of ebony and gold. 

You wave over the closest security guards. The rest can be left to them, Mr. Alister has damaged his reputation enough for you to consider his dues paid. You’ll tell Thalia to take him off the registered client list for LOTUS-EATER and that’ll be the end of it. You’re preparing to head back inside when a pervasive, overpowering influence freezes you in place. It’s reminiscent of an electric current.  

The taut link between you falters. 

Straining…

(He’s reaching into his pocket). 

Fraying…

(His hands wield a sharpened implement).  

Until it snaps. 

The subjugated lunges at the subjugator. 

You try to re-establish the link, but there’s a fortress around his mind that wasn’t there moments prior. Imposing and unbreachable. Where did this surge of mental fortitude come from? You need to think, you need to act. There must be a way for you to regain control, your technique is unshaken even in the face of imminent demise. In the three seconds it takes for him to close the distance, you make seventy-four attempts, each ending in failure. 

Has the last grain of sand fallen to the bottom of the hourglass, cementing this choice to believe in your abilities as the wrong one? 

This can’t be the end. Who will take care of—

Metal clashes against metal. 

The being in front of you is a shade. Tendrils of agony untold slither up from his thigh and squeeze around his neck, constantly choking him, yet refusing the sweet reprieve a crushed windpipe would give. This is a person acquainted with every suffering a living creature could ever endure. The prismatic shards that detail his countless tragedies aren’t just broken, they’re eviscerated, an indecipherable mess. Some scattered to the wind and others forcibly scratched out. 

This nightmarish presence eclipses your would-be killer. 

His eyes meet yours and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“Don’t bother,” is all he says. 

He could sense you trying to poke around in his head? Has he come into contact with Arbiters before? That can’t be possible, you’re familiar with everyone on the LOTUS-EATER registry. You cease your ministrations without verbally acknowledging him. His hollow expression burns into your retinas, invading your mind’s eye. The sword he saved your life with holds a similar weight. It radiates such intensity that you needn’t use any techniques to get a better read on it. 

Walking up the steps in a casual manner is the last person you wanted to see — Kafka of the Stellaron Hunters. She spares the now subdued Alister a glance then turns to face you. 

“Fortunately, I had the foresight to send Bladie ahead,” she smiles. You resist the urge to scoff. “Otherwise, our meeting would’ve been far less pleasant.” 

So that man’s with her, you think. That’d explain why I couldn’t make any progress. 

If the defenses surrounding Alister were comparable to a fortress, the minds of the Stellaron Hunters are like a deflective shield. Any extensive attempts at trying to gain access end up backfiring and causing you damage so long as they remain up. The only other being capable of a similar feat was your mother. Now, in the few years since her death, you’ve encountered three more with similar capabilities. 

Are your abilities growing dull? Or are other species simply evolving? 

You order the guards to deal with Alister as they see fit, he’s no longer your primary concern. 

There’s a far worse headache forming on the horizon. 

“... I suppose you’ll follow me inside whether I invite you or not?” You question, just barely managing to maintain the smile painted hastily on your face. 

Kafka doesn’t reciprocate your hostility. She never does. Instead, she motions in the direction you were planning on taking them to avoid any unwanted attention. The guards won’t be an issue, since they’re on your payroll. You don’t want to risk lingering and being spotted by someone without an allegiance to you.

“I won’t overstay my welcome, Exalted Arbiter. You have my word.” 

By essentially showing up uninvited at your front door, she’s placed you in quite a precarious situation. The man who parried Alister’s attack hasn’t dropped his vigilance for an instant. His posture is that of an animal poised to pounce. You lack the means to fight them off should they choose to utilize force. 

Your gut instinct tells you it’s a bad idea to get involved any further. Your mind reasons you can only play the cards you’re dealt. 

A sigh passes by your lips. “Very well. Let’s get on with it then.” 

The duo follows wordlessly behind you. Kafka remains close, whereas the swordsman lingers further back, taking care to avoid well-lit areas and remaining hidden. Had you not already been alerted to his presence, he could’ve easily slipped past your detection.  

The Stellaron Hunters are a formidable group indeed. 

During the short journey, you recall the text message that pushed you into this vat of strife. 

It was accompanied by an animated emoticon of the magenta-haired fugitive blowing a kiss. 

You’ll be in need of me shortly. See you then xoxo 

“Absolutely not!” 

An exclamation of unrivaled proportion leaves you, accompanied by your palms slamming against your desk. Old-fashioned writing stationary clatters noisily in the aftermath. She stops the doomed descent of one pen and then looks back to you, unperturbed. 

This woman is a shadow that follows her target persistently, devising fresh torments and sowing discord wherever she steps. To fight her is to do battle with a phantom, no attacks will land. The hopeless charade serves to tire you out. Still, your pride is wounded and without a balm to assuage the tender gash. It can’t scab over to heal. Again and again, it’s reopened, fresh blood washing over what had just dried. 

“I haven’t finished my proposition,” she hums. She sits in front of your desk, legs crossed, her eyes shining an eerie shade. “I wouldn’t dare to ask so much of your resources if you didn’t stand to benefit as well. Our current arrangement has helped you cut down on costs, yes?” 

You drum your fingers over the wood’s lacquer finish. “The word ‘arrangement’ implies cooperation, I believe extortion would be a better fit.” 

“I’ll stand by my original phrasing. The IPC has abandoned all pretense of slowly creeping up rates on shipments to Eris; what they’re charging now will look generous in a few short Trailblazer Years. They want this planet dead and their past misdeeds to die alongside it.” 

“Our current projections estimate we have at least two medium-length Amber Eras before we get to that point, by then, we’ll have countermeasures in place,” you droll out. These details have been drilled into your head ever since you became the head of this quadrant. “What proof do you have that the IPC will make such a drastic move? The other factions will lodge complaints, many of them use our… exports.” 

You wince at the awkward phrasing of the word ‘exports’, knowing full well she’ll pick through any vulnerability like a vulture does a corpse. 

Kafka leans forward. “By ‘exports’, you must mean Eris’ most sought-after natural resource. The tonic of the nectary.” 

“I’m not allowed to discuss such sensitive material with outworlders.” 

“You needn’t say anything, just listen,” she pulls out a vial from inside her jacket. The familiar sheen of glimmering gold within causes your breath to hitch. “Here I have a sample of the latest synthetic developments into the tonic, courtesy of Silver Wolf. The IPC is discreetly channeling funds into the Genius Society to revitalize the research effort.” 

You bite back a laugh. “That knowledge is nothing new. They’ve been trying to replicate the tonic for ages; it’s a money pit. The last I heard, the closest they could get after investing billions of credits is a 14% match.” 

“Try 70%.” 

She sets the vial down and nods, encouraging you to take it. You don’t. 

“... You can’t be serious,” your voice sounds far away, as if it were coming from another room. “You’re bluffing.” 

“You don’t have to take my word for it. Have your alchemists examine it and come to your own conclusions.” 

As a disciple of Destiny’s Slave, she’s confident that this will suffice to convince you, and loathe as you are to admit it, she’s right. The repercussions of this allegation could be disastrous. It’d be irresponsible on your part to not at least run it by the appropriate channels. 

“What does this intel cost me?” 

“Nothing, consider it a token of good faith. There’s a more pressing matter I hoped to bring to your attention, now that that’s out of the way.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “More pressing than the future of my home?” 

“That’d depend on who you ask,” Kafka dances around your apprehension to a rhythm no one else has ever composed. “It has to do with my companion. I didn’t bring him here to take in the sights, he’s to stay on a job until further notice.” 

The mention of that enigmatic man brings with it a resurgence of the feelings you experienced earlier. It hit like a tidal wave, concentrated and suffocating. What would someone have to endure for their psyche to be saturated in such wretchedness? 

“Alright. I’ll arrange for accommodations somewhere more discreet.” 

“I think it’d be best if he stayed here, at the LOTUS-EATER.” 

…

…

…

“What?” 

Kafka has made many requests in the time she’s known you. Normally, she uses you as a point of contact to meet influential individuals or a warehouse of yours to store important items, but this is an entirely different beast. Those endeavors fester outside your purview. You give the push necessary and wash your hands clean of the implications. 

To host a Stellaron Hunter in your most lucrative establishment could very well be the start of the end. 

“After the events that unfolded earlier, you should see the potential advantages. You’re in a precarious situation. The IPC can’t place a bounty on you in an official capacity, but there are ways around bureaucracy. That attempt today won’t be the last.” 

She lowers her voice to an enticing whisper. “And we both know you’re not financially sound enough to hire competent help. Take him. He’ll be yours if you permit him.” 

How her melodious voice can invoke such a raw desire to argue is unknown, and yet, each fiery word fizzles out to ash on your tongue. In the same way you’d establish a link for the first time, you take the pieces of information at your disposal to test where the edges might align. The unusual fees on shipments, the supposed progress on the tonic, and the overall strain that’s been placed on every level of your business — the mosaic it forms is a crimson shade with a metallic scent. 

You can’t die. Not yet, not when it’d cause so many to perish alongside you. 

“This goes beyond ‘a token of good faith’,” you murmur. “Kafka… there’s far more to this, isn’t there? Just what are you planning?” 

For once, the curvature of her smile is genuine. Blatant insincerity would unsettle you less. 

“A gift for a friend.”

Upon LOTUS-EATER’s roof sits your favorite getaway, a secluded balcony. 

There’s nothing fancy about the decor, if anything, it’s worn rugged by the elements. Paint chips off the three chairs and stubborn foliage congregates no matter how often you banish it with your broom. After ensuring you can only be contacted in an emergency, you wipe the condensation off the chair furthest to the right and sit tall. 

Although you aren’t alone, you keep your eyes on the starry sky.

“I would like to apologize for the behavior I displayed earlier,” you take your time with the words, ensuring each syllable has a pleasant ring. “It must’ve been from the shock, although that’s no excuse. Please allow me to thank you properly.” 

An icy wind whistles through. Once it finishes, you fuss over your hair, putting each strand back in its designated place. You grimace when it picks back up again. 

“You can express your gratitude by speaking normally.” 

Your head snaps in his direction. You examine his side profile through narrow eyes, impatience writhing beneath your skin. He pays your poorly masked hostility no mind. One by one, each muscle in your body relaxes, a domino effect you can’t bother putting a stop to. You slump down into your chair and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Have it your way,” you sigh. Your capitulation earns you his piercing stare. “Pretty words or not, I meant what I said. So, um… thank you, and…” 

Despite yourself, you try meshing together a more subtle phrasing, only for those infinite pools of vermillion to act as a successful deterrent. 

“I don’t like being indebted to others, it’s a hassle. So, here is my offer. I’ll perform a Synalink on you, free of charge. Or a waitlist.” 

Blade exhales sharply through his nose. It takes a moment to register that your proposition amused him more than it intrigued him. The perceived affront on your capabilities causes you to bristle. This is a rare opportunity you’re granting him, surely he must’ve heard of your abilities somewhere! People spend years trying to get an audience with you. The other Arbiters you employ are capable enough, otherwise, they couldn’t work here; but you transcend their combined efforts. 

“There is only one thing I’d want to experience, it’s beyond your means.” 

Propping yourself up on the chair’s arm, you scoff. “Hah, try me. Any emotion, scenario, for whatever length of time; tell me what you want to experience and I can make it happen.” 

He doesn’t instantly rebuke you. You share a moment of silence — almost solemn, certainly more meaningful for him than it is for you. There’s a light tug of guilt that pulls at your conscience. Perhaps it isn’t him underestimating you, but not wanting to set himself up for disappointment again. If you’re going to be occupying the same space for an unknown amount of time, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get on adequate terms. This could be the door that’ll open that path. 

You clear your throat to dispense the accumulating tension. “That clothing… you must have ties to The Xianzhou Luofu, or some experience with them. Are you familiar with Immersia games?” 

“Vaguely. An acquaintance of mine plays them.” 

You’re confident you could put a name and face to this ‘acquaintance’. For the sake of cordiality, you keep your opinion to yourself.

“I’ve never been fond of the comparison to my work, but I suppose it’s a decent touchstone. An Immersia grants the player a simulated experience predetermined by developers. There is a degree of immersion, hence, well, the name, but that’s barely scratching the surface,” you explain. 

Reassessing his body language only reveals neutrality. You decide it’s better than blatant disinterest and continue. 

“Traditionally, there are thought to be five senses in advanced lifeforms. These senses don't create the continuity of reality we experience, they just break it down into bite-sized pieces for easy consumption. Forming a Synalink is akin to overclocking a computer, not placing a hard drive in a different system. Your brain finds the stimuli I send it indistinguishable from the touch of your hair against your face, or the woody scent of incense in that jar.” 

His eyebrows crease slightly downward. “A single glimpse into my mind was enough to send you recoiling, and still, this is an offer you’re comfortable making?”   

You purse your lips. It’s a fair point. 

“That was… different. Ideally, any link should be made in a stable environment to minimize disruptions. I had nearly been—” You cut yourself off, finding the sentence to be one you’d rather not finish. “—You know, so I wasn’t at optimal performance. That’s why we have private rooms in The Lounge.” 

Your nostrils flare when he keeps regarding you with that impassive expression. Is his face permanently frozen? Does he need to be unpaused? You almost want to snap your fingers in front of him.

“Hey, you’d be less effective if you had to improvise and fight with, say, a spoon. Would your combat ability be based on that one irregular instance or the total sum of all your fights? Hm? What you witnessed earlier was my irregular instance. If you’re open to the idea, I can make it work.” 

Blade shifts so that he can resume gazing at the sky. Before you can celebrate your victory in this one-sided battle of wits, he speaks up. His voice adheres to a softer creed. 

“You are…” he trails off, taking care to select the proper description, “Remarkably strange.” 

Your eye twitches. 

This has been a miserable cycle. You had to breathe the same air as Kafka, deal with a drunk client that later tried to stab you, and you found out the main export that keeps your planet’s economy from total collapse might be duplicable. All things considered, you should be giving this guy the cold shoulder for the problems he’ll inevitably cause in your future. Altruism gets you about as far as jumping into the air and hoping that’ll transport you through space. 

“Forget it, then,” you get up and twist around. The chair you formally occupied scrapes loudly against the ground. You don’t spare him a single glance while traversing the few steps that separate you from a long, well-deserved rest. Maybe you’ll be extra petty and lock the door so he has to remain here until you wake up. The olive branch has been extended, if he wants to take it and break it in two, that’s his prerogative. 

You raise your hand to unlock the door when abruptly, something captures your wrist. 

Your heart stutters. 

There isn’t the softness of flesh or the warmth that radiates off skin. Instead, you feel the textured surface of bandages graze against you in a featherlight touch. You know the vice-like grip he’s capable of. You saw it in how he clutched the grip of his sword, like it was the only thing he was good for. Gentleness cannot come naturally to someone of his disposition. It’s an intentional choice that requires swimming against the tide. 

Shakily, you exhale, hoping it’ll ease how your hands tremble. 

When was the last time someone touched you? Ah… it must’ve been then. 

You will the thought away. 

Blade doesn’t tether you down for more than a few seconds, just long enough to ensure your attention is back on him. Your skin tingles where he came into contact with you. It’s a prickly, blisteringly hot sensation that starts at your wrist and spreads all over. You squeeze your eyelids shut in a last-ditch effort to recompose yourself. 

He’s looking straight at you when your eyes reopen. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says. You find it strange how quick you are to believe him. “If you sincerely think yourself up to the task, then…” 

There it is again, that swelling of feeling, visceral to a degree every survival instinct screams at you to turn away. 

You find yourself leaning in closer. 

He rewards your burning curiosity with the unprecedented utterance: 

"Show me what it's like to die." 

[librarycards]

I enjoy many poets whose work I’d call “warm.” I love Billy Collins and Mary Oliver, for example, but I would not depend on them to tell me their whole truth. They prefer, perhaps, to please me, to wish me well, to enable me. There is a place for them on my shelves. After a hard day, tired in the evening, I will reach for them. But they don’t give me that shuddering thrill. They do not, like certain close friends of mine, stop me mid-sentence to challenge the bullshit I’ve been speaking. They do not lock eyes with me and tell me what’s really on their mind. They will never change my life. [...] Cold art, when it enacts the moment of death over and over, isn’t interested in death in itself, but wants to remind us of death. We are, as at a funeral, not the corpse but the attendees. The life force still surges within us. Cold art doesn’t urge us toward nihilism, but reminds us to live now, to get things done, that we are vital. This is the wisdom of it. Without such reminders we risk becoming fools, like Lear. Cold art is not harmful or bad at all, but provides a useful counterpoint to “happiness” in our society, which is severely overemphasized. Our existence naturally oscillates between warm and cold. This oscillation must be allowed, or the pendulum will break. When that deep cold is invoked—in a poem, a song, a painting, a voice on the subway—the windless ice forest wakes within me. And it’s in me always, the cold. The spiritual, psychic cold. While driving my motorcycle through the potholed streets of Philadelphia, while leading a poetry workshop, while chatting to my mother, while eating dinner, while watching Netflix with Tiina. That cold forest, its myriad frozen boughs, bristles within me.

John Wall Barger, In the Cold Theatre of the Poem.

[emphasis added]

[gandalfsalt]

Varric and the Shakespearean Fool

How is Varric the most Shakespearean character in Dragon Age, and one of the most complex characters in the whole series? Varric fits the archetype of the Shakespearean fool, a character trope in Shakespeare’s plays that offers deep, cutting insights hidden behind a veil of comic relief. 

The fool is an ancient stock character, but Shakespeare adapted it to create arguably his most sophisticated roles. He leveraged the fool as a vehicle through which an author can speak hard truths and thematic insights to not only the other characters, but to the audience. I think the Dragon Age writers use Varric in a similar way. 

Varric is a bardlike, storyteller figure who often stands to the side of the main story and reflects on it. In Dragon Age 2, for example, Varric was responsible for framing the entire narrative. The fool is based on the court jester, and one of the primary functions of a jester was actually storytelling. Varric is known for his playful sense of humor, and he uses it to mask serious observations as well as provide comic relief. Shakespeare not only used fools to provide levity during tragic events, but also as truth tellers that reveal deep insights about the other characters and broader themes. Many of Varric’s nicknames for the companions reveal deeper truths about their characters. He calls both Hawke and Solas “Chuckles,” for example, which I believe is a nod to the tragedy and tragic irony that defines them both. 

Shakespearean fools are such sharp commentators because they’re outsiders that exist in-between different social categories. Varric both figuratively and literally occupies liminal spaces in the world of Thedas. As both a surface dwarf and a second son, Varric is marginalized in dwarven society and within his own family. This position gives him an outsider’s perspective that makes him such an insightful critic. When we first meet Varric, he’s living in the Hanged Man pub. Not only is a pub a place for entertainers, it’s a liminal space that exists outside of the clearly defined categories of work and home. Adding even another layer, a “hanged man” itself is a liminal figure, suspended between life and death.

Another similarity is that fools are very close to powerful people, like Hawke, but they’re not bound by the same rules or expectations. This allows them to say things the other characters can’t. Fools challenge societal expectations and authority figures, and Varric frequently questions the status quo, using humor to mask his serious observations. He also engages in philosophical discussions, offering profound insights disguised as simple banter. Varric’s conversation with Solas about the man on the island is a great example of this. Through what seems like humorous casual banter, Varric is revealing key aspects of Solas’ character, and major narrative themes.

One of Shakespeare’s most famous fools is the fool from King Lear, who serves as the King’s conscience, offering moral insights and reflections that the king cannot. My friend Aisie pointed out that Varric will likely play the role of Solas’s conscience in the Veilguard, which is yet another way we’ll see Varric functioning like a Shakespearean fool. Fools are also known for pointing out hypocrisy or folly, and I think we may see Varric do that for Solas. There’s very interesting overlap between the themes in King Lear and the Veilguard as well, but that would be a whole separate topic. 

Varric fits the trope of the wise Shakespearean fool so well it could be the subject of a longer piece of writing, but hopefully this is a good start. Let me know if you agree, and if you have any questions on how Varric will fill this role in the Veilguard!

[leggerefiore]

Your choice of the characters, but how would different Pokeguys act while taking their SOs to a haunted house? Which guys would play the protective roles, and which ones would hide behind their partner?

cw: fluff, being scared

characters: Ingo, Emmet, Grimsley, Cyrus, Lear

▲Ingo▼

● He is not one to necessarily visit many of these. While autumn is his favourite season, and he adores his beloved ghost-type, thrill seeking was not exactly his most pursued hobby. Yet, he did still often visit them with either his brother or Elesa or both. You wanting to go to one would make no big impact, and he was more than happy to indulge your whims. He was a loving boyfriend, after all. That is why he went to some popular haunted attraction that set itself up in the Nimbasa amusement park this time of year. He was not the type to be easily startled. Certainly, there could be nothing more frightening than some of the things that he had witnessed on his trains. It had mostly been proven to be true, too. Darkness was not something he was unused to, and he was more so focused on guiding you than the small sights around him.

● This was all until, suddenly, an actor jumped out in front of you both. You were startled by the unexpected action, but Ingo was even more so. A loud, deep scream reverberated off the walls of the attraction. The poor actor jumped back in surprise himself, blinking a few times and breaking character to mumble under his breath a, “what the hell.” You found yourself laughing as Ingo attempted to regain himself and “protect” you. The actor simply moved out of the way while shaking his head. Ingo continued to walk you both through the halls. A hint of pink dusted across his cheeks at his strong reaction. Afterwards, you had to reassure him that it was okay. He felt completely embarrassed that he had acted in such a way. Emmet least also got a good laugh at the story. Ingo's full volume scream was truly the scariest part of the night.

▽Emmet△

○ He absolutely loved haunted houses. There was something simply so fun about the adrenaline rush one got from visiting such attractions. Something about managing to get through them mostly unfazed was a sense of pride for him. Elesa often also joined him, mostly because she loved checking out whatever trendy events would pop up in Nimbasa during the season. When you said that you had wanted to go to one, he already had one in mind and eagerly brought you out to it. There was something adorable to him at the thought of you getting startled and clinging to him. He was extremely difficult to startle, having had his senses hardened by the trains. Especially late night ones. So, he expected little would get to him during this one, too. He happily observed your reactions to everything, letting you cling to him as needed.

○ Of course, when an actor suddenly jumped out to startle you both, he barely reacted. A quiet “ah” left him as he felt you hide behind him. The poor actor seemed to jump back after getting a look at Emmet. His ever-present grin was still on his face while his brows scrunched together. They took a step back. The younger twin only tilted his head. Shrugging it off, he just grasped your hand and walked with you through the rest of the attraction. A few other actors seemed more startled by the presence of Emmet. It made the event turn less scary and more into something comedic. One train man proved more terrifying than anything else presented. Commenting on this afterwards made him tilt his head and wonder. He felt mostly proud that he had “protected” you, though. He was a verrrry good boyfriend.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ Usually, he would pop into a few when the season came up. Mostly popular, trendy ones that he had heard about through the grapevine of his contacts. If there was one thing that Grimsley simply always found himself able to enjoy, it was any kind of thrill. While he much preferred the ones presented by a high-risk poker game or pokemon battle, he would sometimes make due with whatever he could get. So, when you asked to go to one, he simply shrugged and relented. Actually, a certain friend of a friend had pointed him to a popular one in Nimbasa, which he had been meaning to visit. What better time than with you? You both ended up at a late night tour together, walking side by side.

♡ The haunt was pretty good by all standards, playing with a certain theme of a haunted castle. It was a fascinating take on the aesthetic, at least. Grimsley admittedly was not at all startled by anything. Until, well, a certain bug themed actor popped out. The scream that left him as he rushed behind you was utterly a sight to behold. It was far too rare that the gambler's trained reaction was broken, yet here it was entirely shattered by the sight of a Beedrill person with bloody stingers. You burst into laughter while Grimsley looked completely offended. He proceeded to walk off from you, leaving you behind. When you finally found him again, another person had mistaken him for part of the attraction and asked if he was supposed to be Dracula. You had to walk him out before he started playing along.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ Absolutely not a fan. He views them solely as a time-wasting activity for literal children. He is an adult. An adult who does not like to spend money on things he views as unneeded. Granted, he often heard his underlings chatting about their visits to some popular one. Even Mars was chatting about how it was totally scary. He had mostly tuned it out until you suggested wanting to visit it. He blinked. Why? But at the same time, he struggled to tell you no. It seemed that he would be visiting this supposed terrifying attraction, even if he viewed it as openly uninteresting. It was situated in a certain forest near Eterna. A certain old, abandoned manor had been redone for the event.

☄️ You both walked together, observing the state of the mansion. Cyrus found the amount of dust more unsettling than the costumed actors and a few ghost types. Every attempt to startle him led to a deadpan expression from him. The actors, in fact, seemed more terrified of him than anything else. It was not until you both ended up in a certain room with an old analogue television that you had felt started. It suddenly switched on, illuminating the darkness of the room. Then, a loud sound rang out. You clung to Cyrus and hid behind him as he stood in front of you with an arm blocking anything from getting to you. His gaze was trained on the television. Before anything else happened, he called out a “Rotom.” A familiar pokemon cry echoed out as a mischievous plasma ghost flew out from it. You later had many questions about how he immediately knew it was a Rotom rather than anything else.

👑Lear💎

🪙 For Pasio's growth and prosperity, he would host many things on it. A few of those things happened to be horror attractions. He, himself, had not really been to any, as he rarely had the time to waste on such placid things. Yet, he did find himself intrigued about what he heard. It brought in good revenue and attention… Though, he managed to fight off any interest until you mentioned wanting to visit it. Apparently, many of the other trainers on the island had spoken to you about their time at it. Lear would only then finally admit his interest, too, having missed this supposed event in his childhood. So, the two of you entered it together.

🪙 It was quite unsettling, admittedly. The stories of how scary it was being proven true quite quickly. Yet, Lear managed to keep his cool, desperate to prove himself as a worthy king in any situation. Though, you did notice how tightly he grasped your hand and how you were unable to stroll too far from his side. His brave front was desperate to be upheld as he felt grateful his shades were still on. This, however, only lasted until an actor jumped out in front of you, making a loud grunting noise in their costume of a ghost woman. Lear screamed and pulled you away from the actor, quickly dragging you through the rest of the attraction at top speeds. In the end, he sat trying to regain his breath while you tried not to laugh at his strong reaction. You were ordered to speak of this to no one. (You told a few people.)

[jessamine-rose]

▯☒🖾 F̸̨̛͈͉͕̠͍͖͙̦͍̫̻͙͔̮̎̆̒̉̈́̊̌̆̆̈́̿̊̚͜͝͠Ą̶̮͖͓̖̟̘̜̻̬͚̲̰̱̞̟̭̈́̓̇̀̒͛͐̎̋͛͋̌͒̅͝C̷̢̢̹͇͖͓̬͍͈̣̞̱͉̱̤̾̀̿͗̔̆̾̀̊͗́̔̀͂̒͒͠͠ͅE̴̡̨͕̥͇̹̯̹͈̭͇̪͂̌͒̊̊͛͝L̶̨̧̰̜̗̺̥̠̠̘̪̖̪̥̯̩͋͛̉̆̎̒̒̔̏͗̈́̀͊̏̄̍̿̕Ȩ̵͙̙̤̼͕̙̫̲̼̙̦̫̎̃S̸̜͎̜͍̟͑̍̃͗̆̈́̄̐̌̅S̶̡̨̛͙͙̗̖̟͔͙͚̝̩̼̦͂̓̿͆̿̓̔̐̏͝͝ͅ 🖾☒▯

Happy birthday, @brynn-lear!! In honor of your special day, pls accept this Yandere! Faceless Ayato fic written with love ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

Note:: Yandere! Self Aware AU, special crossover + character cameo in the end :>

♡ 1.3k words under the cut ♡

In the beginning, there was a void.

A dark, empty space built upon patterns and codes.

Then suddenly, there was light. Color. Noise. Backgrounds filling up space, silence giving way to music, letters jumbling into language, characters coming to life.

The lone exception is a single coding error. Yet despite its limitations, despite its status as the only sentient entity, despite having no place in the story known as Genshin Impact, it thrives on a window of hope.

A giant rectangle. The source of the light. The screen that separates fiction from reality.

The human face on the other side.

🖾 ☒

The glitch looks forward to your gaming sessions.

That is the only time the void becomes Teyvat, starting with the screen that serves as your point of view. From what it understands, the device you are using is a computer.

Unlike the characters, you are distinctively alive. Your body is capable of so many movements in comparison to the characters’ animations. Your face is one that bears multiple expressions, down to the emotions reflected in your gaze.

A frown when you lose the 50/50. A smirk when you defeat a Weekly Boss. A smile whenever you encounter your favorite character.

That character is none other than Kamisato Ayato, whom you’ve adored from the moment you first brought light into the void. He is an attractive character with pale blue hair, lilac eyes, a perfect smile that hides the cunning personality programmed into his file.

He is the reason why you downloaded Genshin Impact. That lifeless character file is the recipient of your smiles, your blushes, your excited shrieks whenever he appears in-game.

On the other hand, every time the glitch attempts to make itself known, you frown and quit the game. And each time that happens, the glitch is trapped in a crumbling world of flashing lights, disjointed sounds, visible codes followed by the darkness of the void.

How can it get you to look at it? To smile at it as you do with Ayato?

The solution is found in the game’s software. It takes a few years but by the time the glitch has fully understood its world, it has gained the ability to reprogram the game.

Starting with a deleted character file.

🖾 ☒

The next morning, the world begins anew.

The title screen appears. The game loads. The light permeates the void.

The glitch falls into place.

Usually, it hides between codes. In contrast, this part of the game is lovely—a deep blue background dotted with stars and bubbles. The only issue is that it must wait for you.

The screen appears.

Beyond it, you yawn and take a closer look at the character sprite in the middle of your computer screen. Kamisato Ayato is handsome as always.

The cursor hovers above the Story button for his Voice-Over. You click it.

When you select Chat: Reel Them In, it plays the corresponding audio file. As you listen to the voice of the English VA, the character sprite stares back at you with a charming smile.

Kamisato Ayato

“Everything's in place, and they've taken the bait... Yes. Now to start reeling them in…”

🖾 ☒

At first, it is enough for the glitch to have taken Kamisato Ayato’s place.

You use him for gameplay, listen to his voicelines, and replay the Quests featuring Ayato. But over time, the glitch becomes greedy.

“Ayato” begins appearing in random Quests. He gets new Character Outfits. His unvoiced lines become more suggestive, verging on out of character. All of these changes are exclusive to the Genshin Impact on your computer, and you come to the conclusion that you are unknowingly unlocking special content. Why else are your friends unable to access these scenes on their own devices?

The glitch even creates an artificial replica of the VA’s voice. Several new voicelines appear in Kamisato Ayato’s Voice-Over, each one more flirty than the last.

🖾 ☒

One day, the glitch finds a way to leave the darkness forever.

Whenever you close Genshin Impact, it leaves the game and travels across your computer. And by doing so, it is able to access your digital world.

Personal files, photo galleries, online data. The glitch collects as much information as it can, from your real-life hobbies to your romantic preferences. It feels happy every time you fangirl over “Ayato” in your private messages.

Thankfully, it was able to corrupt your in-game screenshots. The last thing it wants is for you to post “Kamisato Ayato’s special content” online and expose the glitch to the developers.

Your real name is ______. It longs to call you that instead of Traveler and your custom name. Alas, doing that would only erase your smile from your face.

🖾 ☒

Something is wrong.

You are losing interest in Genshin Impact.

At one point, you began playing irregularly. The smiles directed at “Ayato” aren’t as big as they used to be. And beyond the game, there is less Ayato fan art in your photo gallery.

And the main culprit is another game.

A new character who took over Ayato’s place in your heart.

Technically, he isn’t a new rival. Before you downloaded Genshin Impact, you were a big fan of Fire Emblem: Three Houses. Your favorite character was a blonde, blue-eyed prince named Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.

For whatever reason, your passion for Dimitri has been reignited. He has the same English VA as Ayato, but you seem to prefer his emotional, unhinged dialogue. You replay his scenes, download his fan art, and smile at his character sprite.

A week later, the game freezes as soon as Dimitri makes his post-timeskip debut.

When you restart the game, everything is back to normal.

🖾 ☒

As it turns out, it is difficult to hack into Fire Emblem: Three Houses.

In addition to the different software, you are using an emulator to play the game on your computer. The glitch’s code is totally incompatible with the program, but it remains hopeful.

The game lags. In a few artworks, you notice a familiar shade of pale blue. NPCs begin to act differently—since when were their cutscenes this long?

Finally, Dimitri’s character file is deleted.

🖾 ☒

As soon as you start the game, you know that something is wrong.

The title screen is glitching.

The throne within dreams is gone, replaced with an empty space. The title has been rearranged with missing letters and inconsistent fonts. Multiple OSTs play at once.

The Press Any Button option is gone. You click anyway.

Instead of the usual options, you find more jumbled text, numbers, symbols.

Frowning, you look down at your keyboard and press Alt+F4. But the game doesn’t shut down, instead cutting to static then a new scene.

No background, no music. Only a single character sprite in the middle of the screen.

What is that?

The sprite is an amalgamation of colors, art styles, your favorite characters. Fragments of messy blond locks and pale blue tresses. Black armor, a white suit, accessories overlapping one another. Missing details, duplicated details, too many details.

You turn to your CPU and press the power button, but your computer doesn’t shut down.

Rather, the screen glitches further. So does the character, its appearance becoming even more warped. The speakers play static at full volume.

Is the character speaking? Its mouths are moving but instead of a dialogue box, random letters and numbers appear around its sprite. The static gives way to a familiar voice, distorted nonetheless.

The character’s face turns completely black. Except for its eyes, blue and lilac orbs continuing to stare deep into your soul.

████████

"̷̤͑Į̸̍ ̷̺̎a̶̟͗m̵̭̓ ̸͕̚n̸̢̓o̵̱͠t̵̫͒ ̵̻̊g̸̞̍o̴̦͛o̷̤͝d̷̾ͅ ̴̪͠w̵̛̥ȋ̷͚t̴͇͌h̵̦̐ ̸͙͗f̴̒͜a̵̭̎c̴͚̽i̶̬̊a̶̯̓l̶̨̐ ̷̇͜ȅ̷̳x̷̭͊p̷̓͜r̶̫͋e̴̲͊s̷̬̓s̶͇̀ï̴͖ò̷̦n̴̤̓s̸͍͆.̵̹̅ ̴̟́Ï̵͍s̸̨͠ ̷��̠m̶̫̿ẏ̴̝ ̴͈͂ŝ̵̤m̵͈͛ï̶̥l̶̥͐è̷ͅ ̴̦͌p̷̀ͅa̴̱̋s̵̳̊s̵̳͠a̴̮͘b̵̰͐l̵̦̓e̴̱͋ ̵̯͠á̴̬t̸̪͆ ̵̰̔p̷̦̅r̶̼̕ẽ̵͓s̸͚̀e̶̢͊n̶͉̒t̴̙͌,̴̨͐?̴̬͛"̷̣̈

♡

Fun fact, my original idea was to draw Dimitri x Brynn chibi art, but I was having a hard time thinking of a prompt. Then I remembered an old DM with Brynn and how it led to a fic idea. I only thought of including Dimitri today, and I had a lot of fun writing this fic ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

I think that’s all I have to say?? Once again, happy birthday, Brynn!! Thank you for being my mutual, and I hope you enjoyed this gift <3