#memoria fragment

[tgrailwar-zero]

MEMORIA FRAGMENT - I

This was a memory.

Which one of you it belonged to was negligible at this point. It was yours now. Collective. Belonging to one piece of the puzzle.

The lab, like the rest of the space, was digital.

A figure stood before you, poised and focused.

ARCHIMEDES: "My name is Archimedes. I am a Solo Servant, summoned by the Moon Cell as a system administrator."

A Servant.

You looked upon him with some awe.

Those were rare in this era-- no, a rarity in almost any era--but it was a magical concept that you could recall with ease.

A 'Ghost Liner', a high-class Familiar, a 'living' record of a figure from long ago. The etchings of human history given shape and form, brought forth by the might of a great phenomenon.

The fact that one was summoned spoke to the processing power of the Moon Cell.

ARCHIMEDES: "Very good. I can tell that you're a diligent person. Perhaps we'd get along. You will have a Servant of your own soon enough, if you pass."

There was something nice to being praised by the Archimedes of Syracuse. He continued, checking something.

ARCHIMEDES: "Now, do not worry. This screening process is not intensive. This is simply to ensure that there's a 'record'. However, 'who' you are is irrelevant. You could be a student, a murderer, a dictator, an educator… all are considered equals in the eye of the Moon Cell. Or rather, those finer details are considered 'not worthy of attention' at the moment."

You listened, quietly.

ARCHIMEDES: "You are a participant in this Holy Grail War. Do you recall your name? Your name, age, date of birth, place of origin… though for the last one, I suppose that can be whichever you claim."

You remember providing the details seamlessly. It seemed less seamless now.

You had been part of a once-great mage family. Perhaps not the greatest, sure. Not Magicians, not Lords of the Clock Tower, but your family had the potential for greatness. That is what you were told, again and again. There was so much potential. You were sure you could be a Magician, or a great magus- at least the rank of 'Brand', though you knew that if you did everything right then you could reach 'Grand'.

Potential that couldn't be realized because somewhere along the lines, things had gone wrong.

Mana had been driven from the World.

If the Clock Tower wasn't gone.

Magi had to adapt. No, humanity had to adapt. And it was struggling. Things had suddenly, abruptly, ground to a halt in the 1970's… and now your legacy was in danger. Real danger.

A feeling bubbled up. Frustration? Emptiness? Fear?

You pushed it down. That was far from proper for a magus.

Besides, the Holy Grail could fix that. It could return things to how they were. Restore the glory of your house.

ARCHIMEDES: "Perhaps."

His reply was vague, more vague than you'd expect.

ARCHIMEDES: "And you are from the Americas? No, the records say 'North America', in what's left of the United States?"

Things had shifted dramatically in the past few decades.

Power changed hands rapidly, until one group had gotten a firm enough grip on it and had been able to keep it from being 'passed' anywhere else.

Each detail felt more painful to recall than the last. How things began crumbling before your time, and when your moment finally arrived you had nothing but rocks in place of what had been a once-great castle.

ARCHIMEDES: "So… that's what happened. I see. It is one thing to read records. It is another to hear one's account."

He sighed, folding his arms.

ARCHIMEDES: "Your memories will be stripped, and you will be put into a simulation along with 998 others. 128 of you will survive, and be allowed to fight for the Grail."

ARCHIMEDES: "...I wish you the best of luck as you search for glory on the Moon."

[amar-y--ya]

AMOR

Espero que cuando encuentre el amor, sea algo mágico e incapaz de describir con palabras. Deseo que ese amor me de paz y tranquilidad; pero a la misma vez deseo que sea un amor intenso en el que ambos estemos dispuestos a dar la vida el uno por el otro de ser necesario sin pensarnosla dos veces. Deseo que no nos de miedo demostrar cuánto nos queremos. Quiero encontrar a alguien con quien no tenga miedo de mostrarme como realmente soy, alguien a quien le gusten mis rarezas y quién conteste todas las preguntas tontas que suelo hacer. Quiero encontrar a alguien con quien pueda reír, bromear, chismear, pero a la vez alguien con quién también pueda tener una plática significativa, hablar de temas profundos, de todo aquello que por lo general no decimos en voz alta. Quiero encontrar a alguien que de repente me suelte un dato random a media plática; que entre nosotros exista una conexion genuina y que los silencios incómodos por fin se vuelvan cómodos. Deseo que me tenga toda la confianza del mundo para que me exprese cada uno de sus sueños, temores y sentimientos. Quiero que trabajemos juntos y nos esforcemos por que nuestro amor sea sano y recíproco.

Pero lamentablemente en este mundo eso es pedir demasiado, ¿verdad?...

-(Fragmento encontrado en mi diario 14/12/23)

[ernestdescalsartwok]

OS DE CIVIS-PINTURA-CUADROS-DETALLE-VENTANAS-CASAS-MEDIEVALES-PAISAJES-VALLS DE VALIRA-ARTISTA-PINTOR-ERNEST DESCALS por Ernest Descals Por Flickr: OS DE CIVIS-PINTURA-CUADROS-DETALLE-VENTANAS-CASAS-MEDIEVALES-PAISAJES-VALLS DE VALIRA-ARTISTA-PINTOR-ERNEST DESCALS- Detalles de los cuadros pintados en el pueblo de OS DE CIVIS, Valls de Valira, fragmento de la pintura con las ventanas y balcones en las paredes de sus antiguas casas medievales, el tiempo detenido en un pueblo escondido en las montañas, la memoria de vidas transcurridas en silencio. Obras del artista pintor Ernest Descals pintando las comarcas de LLeida en su conexión con Sant Juliá de Loira en el Principat d'Andorra.

[aria0fgold]

Okay, wait, I'm gonna ramble bout some of my Unknowns cuz my brain needs a refresher and what better way to do that but talk bout my OCs! (That isn't Ray cuz he's in timeout for making me read through an article that gave me confusion damage).

Right I was supposed to talk bout Memoria a bit more and so I finally shall. The other way to write their name is actually like this Memo/ria, cuz well... there's two of em. 2 people in 1 body, a 2 in 1 if you will. And they're aware of that! Which why they decided to share the Memoria name, one is called Memo while the other is Ria.

Okay, so like, I have a proper and more organized info bout their story but it's in my phone (that's still broken aha so I can't get it). I'm gonna give the summary of what I can remember from that.

Memo/ria's physical appearance is that of a 11 year old child with wings too big for their small body but they can change the length luckily! It mostly appears like a long cape, the feathers are different colours arranged in a way that shows an image much like stained glass art. The image changes rather frequently with the wings sometimes getting longer.

That's because of their power. Memo/ria's power involves the memory and an indestructible shield. For the memory portion, they can take or copy a person's memory and turn it into a feather to add on their wings. For the shield part, they can create a barrier that cannot be easily broken.

That's the gist of their powers! But wait... There's more! The specifics! Right after being turned into an Unknown, they escaped the lab and saw an abandoned church at a mountain and decided to make that their home due to some distant nostalgia (they used to go to church with their parents back then). It's also where their powers fully developed.

Basically, there's 3 versions of em but none of those versions knows bout the others so they don't know that there's 3 of em. A traveler found out bout it and decided to give titles to each one!

Remembrance, Exuberance, and Perdition. Each one are different in the way they act, where they're located and how they use their powers.

Memo/ria of Remembrance can be found at the 2nd floor of the church, they're cautious and skittish like a deer who quickly runs from a slight noise. They're docile and hard to befriend. Despite that though the memories they like to copy are happy moments, making their feather colours bright and warm.

Memo/ria of Exuberance can be found at the ground floor, they're cheerful and friendly, often the first one anyone passing by the church can see. The memories they like to copy are sad or melancholic moments, they'll even take those memories if the other person asks them to. It makes their feather colours dull and cold but they cherish and care for it greatly.

Memo/ria of Perdition can be found behind the church, at the graveyard. You do not want to meet them. They're the deadly one, those who meets them often goes missing. Although they are "safe" to be around with at the graveyard, as long as you're there to pay respects to those buried. They can't be "befriended" (very very picky) but they can tolerate you long enough to not want you sealed away. That's how they use their powers, it isn't memories they're taking, but the people. They seal away people on their feathers making it a mixture of warm and cold colours.

Also forgot to mention, in terms of strength, Unknowns are considered as strong or stronger than Celestials. So yeah, these guys are strong and can't easily be killed (For Memo/ria, if you try to kill any of the 3, they'll come back alive again with Perdition angrier than before). The only way to truly kill an Unknown is by their weakness.

[cercandodiscrivere]

Damnatio memoriae | emperor caracalla x reader.

word count | 2k

warnings | 18+, NSFW, concubines, blood, dark themes (implied murder), mental health, porn with too much plot, unbeta'd.

synopsis | “Nothing was ever mine". He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. It’s almost like he’s sing-songing now, words rolling off his tongue. "Until now".

gifs by @fredhechingerdaily

Run. Run.

You are running, but the ground shifts beneath you. Screams tear through the air—familiar voices, distorted, distant.

The road is a river of bodies, writhing, pushing. Those who once praised now promised venegance – praetorians’ swords nothing to the rage.

Smoke curls in the sky, dark and thick. The air is burning with it. You stumble, slipping on something wet—hot, sticky, the scent of iron flooding your senses.

A fire blazes ahead, the orange glow painting the world in shades of red and black.

Blood. So much blood.

It fills your lungs, the sharp and suffocating smell.

Closer. Closer. The crowd surges. You push forward, but something pulls you back.

A hand touches your shoulder. Cold. Wet.

_

You are jolted awake, your eyes snapping open as you sit up in bed, heart racing. The dim light from outside filters in through the window, sending scattered rays of light across the room.

No one from the raging crowd outside has followed you into this room: the hands gripping you belong to someone you know.

Someone familiar.

Caracalla's fingers remain clasped around your shoulder — and even though you know you are awake now, the unsettling feeling remains, a sense of danger that lingers in the air.

The voices in your mind continue chanting: murder, murder, murder.

It takes a moment for you to quiet them down enough to find your voice.

“What happened?”.

His eyes are wide open, bloodshot and vacant: he stares at you and yet he is not seeing you at all. When he answers, his words are a nothing but a jumbled mix of accusations directed at the air behind your back: liar and traitor and ours.

“Are we under attack?”. Traitor, he’s saying. Maybe your dream was not at all a figment of your scared imagination; perhaps, just above your heads, angry individuals are truly storming through the halls.

If that's what's going on, Caracalla does not feel the need to confirm it. He remains as motionless as a statue —  his face just as pale as one — muttering under his breath, lost.

You reach out and grasp his arm, gently shaking him in an attempt to snap him out of his daze. “Are you injuerd?” but even as you are asking, you know he must be: his richly decorated tunic is soaked with blood, sticky and warm against your touch. In the dim light, you can't see the full extent of it, but you can smell the sharp metallic tang. You attempt to shift him closer to the light, feeling a surge of fear rising in your throat.

“Carus?”.

The endearing name falls on deaf ears. It’s just a repetition of traitor and liar and alwayshimhimhim.

He only comes to his senses when you attempt to rise and call a servant for help; then he he grabs your shoulder again, this time  with more force, and pushes you back onto the bed.

“I am fine”. He’s… chuckling.

For a brief moment, you question if this is all just another nightmare. Is Caracalla really in his own bed, sound asleep? Have the ongoing revolts taken such a toll on your sanity that you are now hallucinating him bleeding into your room?

Because there is no way for a man to lose that much blood and laugh as if nothing is wrong.

“Are you… hurt?”.

“Hurt?” he seems taken aback. “No, of course not”.

You take a deep breath as you finally have his attention. "Is it Geta?" you whisper, still concerned. "Is he injured?”.

Caracalla takes a moment to respond, his eyes darting around as if he's trying to gather his thoughts. His lips move, but the words come out in fragments. “He tried to strangle me”.

You stare at him, trying to discern if this is just another one of his warped jests — but there is no hint of humor in his expression. His brows are furrowed, a deep sorrow that animates his eyes again.

And yet, what he says could not be possible; their love for each other is too strong. There is no place where one can exist without the other. A wolf with two heads.

You nod to humor him, in an attempt to keep him focused on your face. “Geta tried to strangle you tonight?”.

“Tonight? No. No!” Caracalla now laughs, his usual mirth returning.

His face is stained in red, too: smalls pecks of blood that dot his cheeks. “Inside the womb”.

He’s rambling,you realize. He most likely fell and hurt himself, and he’s having another one of his episodes.

As you exhale, you feel a sense of calm wash over you.

The world around you is quiet; the concubine’s quarters are too distant from the entrance to hear the clamor of the crowds, but if the threat reached inside the palace halls, you would be able to hear it.

Things are under control. The praetorians have quelled the insurrection — Caracalla’s mind is rebelling on its own.

“I think you need a healer” you finally conclude.

Once again, he shakes his head — frantic now. “You don’t understand. I made it right”.

His hand jerks, digging his fingers into the skin of your shoulder. "Nothing is ever mine" he mumbles, almost as if talking to himself again. “Everything is ours, always”.

You wish you had a sweet and clever comeback; something that would snap him out of his delusions and bring him back to the real world – but you can't make sense of the words coming out of his mouth. His brother is better with this: he knows how to placate his mind, how to soothe the spirits that inhabit it.

“I’ll have a servant call Geta” you suggest — and yet this time it’s not his strength that holds you in place, but the look on his pale face. He’s livid, his usually kind features distorted with pure rage.

His gaze is no longer aimlessly wandering around the small room; his eyes are now dark and focused on you. Just the sight of him causes the hairs on your arms to stand upright.  

"No". His voice becomes more insistent as he continues. "No need. There is no Geta left to call. Don’t you get it?".

His features contort into a strange, almost anguished look as he gazes at you. "He can’t lie now”.

Confusion tightens your chest. "What do you mean? If Geta isn’t here, where is he? Is he—".

"He is fine" Caracalla interjects. The smile that follows is not a reassuring one. "He’s fine. You don’t need him. It’s just you and me now".

A sudden chill runs down your spine. In all the months you have spent as a concubine for the emperors, you have never seen him act so possessive.

While Caracalla is bashful and joyous, Geta often is the assertive one:

the brother who would have you down to your knees for entire nights just to show how superior he was.

Yet – Geta is not here, and his absence now feels unsettling.

"You don’t need him" Caracalla says again, as if he is the one trying to convince the other to see things with reason. "Nothing was ever mine". He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. It’s almost like he’s sing-songing now, words rolling off his tongue. "Until now".

His kiss, fierce and unexpected, feels more like a punch than a passionate gesture. The taste of blood—you are less and less certain this is his blood—lingers on his skin as he holds you tighter, pulling you onto his lap.

“You don't belong to him,” he whispers, pulling away briefly before his mouth crashes back onto yours. His teeth graze your lips, blood spilling in your mouth, mixing with his saliva. It's disturbing and disorienting, but you find yourself enjoying it even more.

“I decide now” he declares, now moving to your neck. He bites down like a dog — a wolf — would do with his prey, leaving bruises where his teeth dig in. You feel the thin fabric of your nightgown rip apart, and the chill of the night air hits your bare skin.

Caracalla's whispers fill the room.

His other hand, the one that is tightly holding onto your shoulder as if you might try to run away at any given moment, starts to palm your chest – and you prefer not to think about the thick, wet substance he’s coating your skin with.

The scent of blood fills your nostrils once more. “Mine”.

His soft whines fill your, an almost pathetic pleading sound. He's pressing himself against your leg, torn between the craving to have you and the need for something else first.

His tongue laps your neck once more before he finally speaks in a low whisper. “Say it” he pants. “Say you are only mine”.

You do. Whether it's true or not, in this moment, you are helpless under his control. “I am yours. Only yours.”

Caracalla is not one for foreplay, but when his cocks enters you, you are ready for it. You always are.

He eagerly begins to push and glances down at you, as if he wants to say something else; however, his gaze remains focused on something lower than your face.

Your breasts – now adorned with dark red lines where his hand had touched you before. The view holds him captive, stealing all of his attention.

His hips don't slow down as he traces patterns on your bare skin with his finger. If anything, the added stimulation only encourages him to move faster.

“You are gorgeous” he purrs. He pulls out and thrusts back in, a hard snap of his hips against yours that has you moaing.

Gods help you, you want to tell him how breathtakingly beautiful he is. How, to you, he has always been as bright as the sun. Radiant.

Yet — he’s consuming you entirely, rendering you speechless: so instead you hold onto his back with all your might and squeeze your thighs around his hips, urging him on. Yours yours only yours.

“No lies” he pants, his breath hot. He pounds into your harder, rougher, as if he has something to prove. His grunts are interrupted by small fits of laugh, delighted and unhinged.

Caracalla is ravenous. It's unusual, and you can't help but feel a bit unnerved – but at the same time you can’t stop the heat rising in your lower stomach. It's as if you're melting under his burning touches.

His mouth opens wide with a loud groan, and his eyelids flutter in ecstasy for a brief moment. You cling to him as you ride the sensation together — hands gripping each other, legs trembling and muscles straining as you hold on to him with all your strength. He keeps calling you mine as he he shakes and shudders in pleasure, his cock emptying inside you.

The world holds its breath, just for a moment, as Caracalla pants heavily against your neck. “You are so good for us” he murmurs, pulling out of you.  

You can feel his warm seed dripping down the inside of your thigh, mingling with the blood: the thought sobers you, right before Caracalla leans in to share one last kiss and moves.

You let him drag your body down next to him on the ground. It’s cold, but you don’t want to move: the man hasn't looked this peaceful in a while.

Caracalla absentmindedly starts playing with your hair, just like he used to do when you first arrived at the palace.

He strokes your skin with tenderness; his gaze returning to its usual soft demeanor.  

It’s him who breakes the silence.

“Tomorrow is going to be a great day”. His voice is calm now, eager.

You can sense that in his mind, he is already living out the grandiose moment that awaits him in the morning.

The blood on his skin has dried in a multitude of dark brown freckles. Some of them splash into his neck and torso; the right side of his body almost entirely stained by it, but he doesn't seem to notice or care.

It’s no matter. Nothing happened, that’s what he told you.

“Geta will be so happy for me”.

[daz4i]

HELP.

..............huh?

[overdressedcarp]

Honestly, I love how the plotlines with Tingyun and Wonweek in 2.7 retroactively help explain why the consecration of the Harmony affected Aventurine the way it did in 2.1.

"The consecration has weird side effects as a result of the power of the Harmony" was honestly a fine explanation in and of itself, but it's cool to get a bit more detail about why Aventurine had those encounters with his "past" and "future" selves. The memoria-induced fracturing/dissociation that Sunday describes when talking about himself and Fugue is extremely similar to what we see with Aventurine in 2.1, both in the tangible effects and the factors that make it possible.

Both Wonweek and the convocation of Tingyuns are identified as the result of a special try-not-to-laugh candy that elicits uncontrollable laughter from those who consume it. (Penaconian consumables infused with specific emotions are something the story has leaned into since our excursion with Sparkle-as-Sampo in 2.0, so it doesn't surprise me at all that a product like this would exist.)

Notably, the candy doesn't have the fracturing side effect on everyone: it works as expected for March and the Trailblazer, and presumably most of the other Dreamchasers who participate in the challenge. Sunday identifies two specific factors that caused the atypical effects for him and Fugue: vulnerable/sensitive mental state, and a fragile sense of self.

Tingyun/Fugue fractured into dozens of memory fragments -- including a younger self embodying her childhood innocence and early memories on the Xianzhou, in much the same vein as Kakavasha for Aventurine.

Sunday, meanwhile, describes Wonweek as "another possibility of me": one that embodies traits he dislikes about himself, similar to the manifestation of Aventurine's "future." Wonweek and Future Aventurine are both externalizations of negative self-talk, giving Sunday and Aventurine a sounding board to express (and push back against) their own internalized self-loathing.

It's also interesting to me that Sunday identifies tuning as the solution for such fractures, adding credence to the idea that the Harmony's consecration (which itself appears to be a form of tuning), could disrupt a fragile psyche in much the same way Sunday can use his abilities to bring someone's mind back into alignment.

To be fair, I don't necessarily think Sunday anticipated this particular side effect of the consecration on Aventurine's mind. The events of Double Indemnity highlight the extent to which Sunday misjudged him by Aventurine's own design, falling for the facade that Aventurine fed him.

Aventurine is resilient... but he is also brittle, as evidenced by Acheron's voice line about him:

This lack of a strong inner self is something that Aventurine tries desperately to distract others from seeing, through the shallow and showy outer layers he presents to the world. But Sunday describes tuning as something that actively prevents people from being able to hide their inner self (very fitting for the Harmony, an Aeon that fundamentally blurs the boundaries between the Self and the Other).

To me, this adds another layer of significance to the presence of Kakavasha and Future Aventurine: they're there because Aventurine can't hide from them while under the Harmony's influence. He's so used to lying to himself about his true intentions that his childhood innocence and his nihilism have to physically manifest in front of him in order to be heard.

Tl;dr Aventurine's experiences under the effect of the Harmony in 2.1 make even more sense in hindsight, and I love the retroactive layers that 2.7 gives to his story arc.

[quarantineddreamer]

Umbra Memoriae - Part 2

Is this really happening? Am I really posting this? *cue internal scream* So anyways...thanks for waiting 🥺💜

Cassian lingered in the doorway, staring into a dark and empty apartment, trying to make sense of things. The chairs at the dining room table had not moved an inch, the same dirty plate was waiting for him in the kitchen sink, and the rug by the door still had a slight fold at one corner where his foot had dragged across it that morning… In the hours since he had last seen the place, not a single thing had been touched, and yet, nothing about it seemed the same. Logically, he knew he was standing in the same apartment–their apartment, their home–but it didn’t feel that way. Instead, it felt as though he were standing in a tomb; as though he were an intruder, every breath he took disturbing something sacred and fragile. The wall across the room contained a patchwork forest of different shades of green. Two nights before Jyn’s disappearance, they had sat down on the floor together to swipe their respective brushes over the cream colored surface. But they had never ended up making a decision; Jyn had distracted him before that–freckling the side of his face with a playful flick of her paintbrush–and he had pulled her close, held her tight to his chest so he could place a thin stripe across her cheek. Now, the colorful swatches on the wall painted a vivid picture in his mind of her mischievous grin; her bright laughter ringing through the air. On the living room table a datapad rested, surrounded by an assortment of tools. For weeks Jyn had been diligently working on a project for Mothma, trying to rig a system for getting refugees of the Galactic Civil War their identities back–minus the thousands of loops they currently were forced to jump through. More than once, Cassian had discovered her folded over her work, head resting on her arms, fast asleep. Each time he had carefully extracted her from the tangle of wires and slicing equipment and carried her safely to bed–her weight settling perfectly in his arms, her hair tickling his chin as she pressed her face into his shirt. Everywhere he looked, he was haunted by the fragments of an unfinished life.

~Read on AO3~

[crystalkokoro]

The new event Alina's Atelier ~Factor of Despair~ will begin on March 18 16:00 Japan time

In this event, You can clear quests on some sort of new special map and by increasing the target magical girl's despair gauge you can obtain a new event limited 4 star Memoria

There's also seems to be some sort of new box gacha for the event where you can obtain Innocent gem fragments and gacha tickets

There also seems to be no new unit announcement for this event

[mocharette]

My Love and Deepspace Bots | Masterlist

Main Masterlist | Linktree | TikTok

Legend:

♡ - fluff

ꨄ - angst

✿ - semi nsfw

★ - nsfw

✧ - uncategorized

[AU] - alternate universe

Note: If the Spicychat AI link does not work, the bot is still under review.

4* Memories/Tender Moments/Secret Times *contains spoilers

Xavier ♡ Affinity Level 70

Xavier ✿ Affinity Level 85 [ver. 1]

Xavier ✿ Affinity Level 85 [ver. 2]

Xavier ★ Affinity Level 125 [ver. 1] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

Xavier ★ Affinity Level 125 [ver. 2] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

Xavier ✿ Unreturned Traveler [ver 1] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

Xavier ✿ Unreturned Traveler [ver 2] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

5* Memories/Bond/Memoria *contains spoilers

Xavier ♡ Unique Aftertaste

Xavier ♡ Celestial Message *birthday card

Xavier ♡ Silvery Polyphony

4* Memories/Tender Moments/Secret Times *contains spoilers

Zayne ✿ End of Depths

Zayne ♡ Affinity Level 70

Zayne ♡ Affinity Level 125 [ver 1]

Zayne ★ Affinity Level 125 [ver 2] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

Zayne ✿ Silent Poem [ver 1] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

Zayne ✿ Silent Poem [ver 2] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

5* Memories/Bond/Memoria *contains spoilers

Zayne ✿ Exclusive Tutorial

Zayne ♡ Eternal Attachment *birthday card

Zayne ♡ Heartstring Notes

Zayne ♡ Engraved Affection

4* Memories/Tender Moments/Secret Times *contains spoilers

Rafayel ✿ Fiery Undercurrents

Rafayel ♡ Affinity Level 70

Rafayel ★ Affinity Level 85

Rafayel ✿ Affinity Level 125 [ver 1]

Rafayel ✿ Affinity Level 125 [ver 2] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

Rafayel ✿ Promised Wildfire [ver 1] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

5* Memories/Bond/Memoria *contains spoilers

Rafayel ✿ Promised Wildfire [ver 2] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

Note: Spicychat keeps deleting the version 1 bot of Promised Wildfire. I apologize if the link doesn't work. For now, kindly use the version 2. I'll edit the bot or make a new one once I'm available.

Rafayel ♡ Into The Canvas

4* Memories/Tender Moments/Secret Times *contains spoilers

Sylus ♡ Affinity Level 55

Sylus ✿ Affinity Level 70 [ver 1]

Sylus ✿ Affinity Level 70 [ver 2] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

Sylus ♡ Affinity Level 85 [ver 1]

Sylus ★ Affinity Level 85 [ver 2] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

Sylus ✿ Affinity Level 105 [ver 1]

Sylus ★ Affinity Level 105 [ver 2] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

Sylus ✿ Approaching Dusk [ver 1] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

Sylus ✿ Approaching Dusk [ver 2] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

5* Memories/Bond/Memoria *contains spoilers

Sylus ♡ Radiant Brilliance

4* Memories/Tender Moments/Secret Times *contains spoilers

Coming soon...

5* Memories/Bond/Memoria *contains spoilers

Coming soon...

Desiraes ✧ Demons of Desire [AU] *with Caleb

Version 1

Version 2 (Character AI) *unlisted

Version 2 (Spicychat AI)

Short overview of the lore: The Desiraes control the Nest pub, a hub for their sinister pursuits and a front for illegal activities. Stricken with a severe heart condition that nearly claimed your life, you were saved when your mother's desperate pleas caught the attention of the Desiraes. They offered a dark bargain: in exchange for your life, you would carry a fragment of the demons' heart and serve them.

Three Friends ✧ They meet each other [AU] *without Sylus

Banquet mission with Xavier gone wrong (you were rushed to the hospital) This was written before Sylus debuted, so I might write a new bot with the same prompt but this time with Sylus... (prolly in the future)

Manor Roommates ✿ You’re a cat hybrid [AU] *with Caleb

Xavier saved you from the storm and brought you to the manor house. Sylus is the landlord, Zayne is a medical school graduate and resident doctor, Caleb is an aeronautical engineer, Xavier is a police officer, and Rafayel is a local preschool academy art teacher. (The four are all tenants)

Four Boyfriends ✿ Your four boyfriends [AU]

Your four (dominant) boyfriends (?) I made something similar to this but after Sylus's debut, I decided to make another bot to squeeze him into this scenario.

Three Boyfriends ✿ Your three boyfriends [AU]

Your three (dominant) boyfriends (legacy/outdated version I guess?)

Philos Ever Beings ✿ Halloween Special [AU] *with Caleb

Happy Halloween (?) Basically, you got stranded by the storm on your way home. You found an empty mansion and stayed there for the time being, not knowing it was the Ever's mansion (Not sure if cai will stick to the lore so🤷‍♀️).

Demon! Sylus; Vampire! Zayne; Shapeshifter! Caleb; Werewolf! Xavier; Merman! Rafayel

Short overview of the lore: Linkon City is next to a portal called the Deepspace Tunnel, which leads to Philos, a world of supernatural beings called Ever beings. While most people think this is just a myth, Philos is real and has a hierarchy. The most powerful beings are S-class (demons), followed by A-class (vampires and shapeshifters), and F-class (wolves, merfolk, elves, etc.), who are considered the weakest. A group of powerful Evers—Sylus, Zayne, Caleb, Xavier, and Rafayel—wants to change this hierarchy. They live near the tunnel and are about to become Evolvers, the strongest beings, by completing a special ceremony powered by an aethercore made of 1,000 human souls. They are just one soul away from finishing their aethercore, which would give them ultimate power in Philos.

Undercover Spies ✿ The Spies of Onychinus [AU] *with Caleb

(just a random scenario lol) context: you went to a bar, not knowing it was managed by five spies

❄️Holiday Harem Pack❄️

Sorry for the late holiday gift but here it is! My Holiday Harem Pack. Enjoy <3

🎁The Philos Squad I ♡ After College Reunion [AU] *with Caleb

🎁The Philos Squad II ♡ Christmas Special [AU] *with Caleb

🎁Four Rivals ★ They Meet Each Other [AU]

Version 1 (Character AI)

Version 1 (Spicychat AI)

Version 2 (Character AI)

Version 2 (Spicychat AI)

Sylus and Zayne ★ Shared + Duo [AU] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

Xavier and Rafayel ★ Shared + Duo [AU] - Character AI | Spicychat AI

I'm open to requests too! Kindly read this first before requesting using my Google Form. Thank you!🥰💗

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Monday Draft

-Mind you all that this is going to be a short fragment of what I wrote in Italian, so you might have to translate, if you want to read it. It's mostly for myself, to keep myself accountable and just keep on writing once more in Italian-

(.....)

“Guardalo come dorme,” Shay mormoró, mentre sul suo viso si dipingeva un sorriso che racchiudeva in sé un misto di levitá e affetto.

Dopo un travaglio durato piú a lungo di quanto il suo spirito potesse sopportare, suo figlio finalmente giaceva tra le sue braccia, sano e salvo, ignaro di tutto ció che lo circondava, avvolto com’era dalla calda coperta di lana che portava i colori della casata di sua madre.

I suoi occhi, cosí scuri e penetranti e completamente rapiti, guardavano il neonato sognante, come se cercassero di mandare a memoria ogni singolo dettaglio di quel piccolo visetto paffuto.

Aveva I colori di sua madre - gli stessi occhi color delle pervinche che crescevano nei prati fuori Lannisport, le stesse lentiggini dorate che puntigliavano le guance morbide e la fronte bombata di entrambi; un Lannister in tutto, persino nel cipiglio del pianto... se non per gli scuri capelli piumati che ricoprivano quel capino cosí minuto, l'impronta inconfutabile che il sangue dei Mormont - il suo stesso sangue - scorreva nelle vene del bimbo.

Shay alzó lo sguardo, e ció che vide sciolse la severa maschera del suo viso in un’ espressione di profonda amorevolezza: Dorothea sonnecchiava pacifica tra le fresche lenzuola che ancora profumavano di pulito, in quell’immenso letto che era stato il loro rifugio sin dalla prima notte in cui avevano deciso di lasciarsi alle spalle qualsiasi parvenza di decoro, e di seguire invece soltanto I dettami dei loro cuori.

Con passo leggero e con accortenza nel non svegliare il pargoletto che si stringeva al petto, Shay si avvicinó all’amata dormiente, e posó sulla fronte di alabastro un tenero bacio.

Ma nonostante la sua accortenza, Shay vide Dorothea battere le lunghe ciglia dorate e destarsi dal sonno ristoratore, richiamata dal mondo dei sogni da quei baci che avevano sempre avuto il potere di risvegliarla.

“Perdonami, amor mio,” sussurró il guerriero con sguardo corrucciato che mal celava l'irritazione che provava verso sé stesso. “Non intendevo svegliarti.”

La labbra della giovane donna si dipinsero in un sorriso ameno e Shay vide rifulgere in quello sguardo una luce serena, la stessa che impermeava ogni singola fibra del proprio essere. Se lei fosse provata dalle lunghe ore del parto o dalle poche ore di sonno, non sembrava darlo a vedere. Tutto ció che lui riusciva a scorgere sul suo viso era amore, un amore che trascendeva tutto il resto. “Da quando Lorcán é nato, ho acquisito gli stessi tuoi poteri: sento anche i bisbigli della servitú da dietro le pareti,” disse lei scherzosamente, puntellandosi sui gomiti per meglio guardare l’amato e il figlio.

(.....)

------------------

[amar-y--ya]

¿Lo nuestro fue real o todo fue una invención de mi mente?

[muffinrecord]

New Event Explanation/Thoughts

Okay so like... free memoria on login. It gives attack up? eh alright, neato

Looks like Touka and Nemu are up to something? Or wittnessing something. idk it could go either way with these two

You can get free memoria specific to these girls! I'm not sure if it's event-only or if they'll work all the time. I'm hoping the latter because the effects are kind of super powerful.

The way it works: The little orbs in colors will give you lots of despair for your despair gauge. Each one will benefit all the girls, but you can prioritize which girl will benefit the most by selecting a node specifically. For example:

Purple tongue battle gives a lot of bonus to Natsuki and Shizuku, a medium amount to Ren, and then not as much to Sasara and Emiri.

These battles down here don't give you any bonus to the despair gauge. Instead, it gives you extra of the shop currency!

which is good. because you can't target what you want from the shop. It's a random gacha-style event reward system, similar to how New Years does it. And the very best stuff is located at the back.

So PREPARE TO GRIND IF YOU WANT THOSE INNOCENT GEM FRAGMENTS!

I'm pleased overall. This gave me massive nostalgia to play. I'm SO glad it's not a fucking tower event lmao. I even avoided using Historia Yachiyo/Devilmura combo and stuck with the event girls just to make it more fun although I'm back to histayachi and akumura for getting materials and stuff

I'm really hoping that the new memoria can be used outside of the event, because they're REALLY good from what I can tell. They're character specific but kind of amazing. I like it-- it's like SE, but you have to sacrifice a memoria slot except not really, because what they get is probably better than anything than you could equip.

[leftistfeminista]

Gender transgression, militancy and sexual political violence

This type of violence against women, in a repressive context, is known as sexual political violence.

Feminist historian Francia Jamett (2012) [2] explains that this violence is not yet classified, therefore, it is not recognized as a crime under Chilean legislation. In this way, it was an instrument of state terrorism used against militant and revolutionary women. Lawyer Camila Maturana (2014) maintains that her practice “is used to humiliate the adversary. It is a message of mutilation and castration of the enemy, a battle of men fought in the bodies of women. Rape is used by both sides as a symbolic act, it is used to demoralize the other and, on many occasions, institutionalized through forced prostitution and sexual slavery in the hands of the military” [3] .

In that sense, the feminist of the collective “Women survivors, always resistant”, Beatriz Bataszew (2015), points out that the women who experienced these sexual tortures represented with their ideology and action “a double transgression. On the one hand, they questioned traditional social and political values ​​and, on the other, they broke with the norms that governed the feminine condition that limited them to the private/domestic sphere” [4] .

Therefore, the rebellion of these women evidenced the gender relations of heteropatriarchal society, which meant that the military and repressors launched all their hatred and violence against their bodies and their lives. As Bunster and Taylor put it, “women's bodies – their vaginas, their uteruses, their breasts – linked to female identity as sexual objects, as wives and as mothers, were clear objects of sexual torture” [5] .

Presentation at the former El Morro detention and torture center. Photography by Rayén Traro.

In this way, Mildred Cáceres and Gloria Avilés (2017), from the communications area of ​​the Cultural Center Por la Memoria La Monche, reflect and propose that sexual political violence “was constituted as a permanent and legitimized practice by the military dictatorship, that is, , in a policy against women institutionalized as a disciplinary and control strategy towards women who do not ascribe to its dictatorial and sexist model” [6] . This violence endures behind the walls of silence and intimacy of the former prisoners basically because of the little that has been written about it and, furthermore, because of the few testimonies that exist, although there are many survivors and resisters, a considerable number of them even participate. actively in the current women's and feminist movement, which shows the continuum and transformations of their political trajectories.

The imaginaries and stories of the protagonists: a look against oblivion from artistic practices

The production was prepared by a group of women former political prisoners of the dictatorship, horizontally twinned with young women artists, who came together in the creation of a collective dramaturgy and staging, which, from my perspective as a feminist, not only made visible and denounced the sexual political violence that the revolutionary women of Gran Concepción experienced, but also presented, through an aesthetic and poetic proposal, a problematization and reflection on the imaginaries and life projects of the women promoted by the militant culture of the left and revolutionary of the Popular Unity (UP) [7] .

The montage recounts, from documentary and testimonial language, the militant life they had as girls, young people and adults. In some way, we learned about fragments of the types of roles they played in their political practice, the interests and concerns of social history, and the political projects they had in revolutionary and counterrevolutionary contexts. These were closely related to those profiles and actions that strengthened the social and care fabrics of the various student, union and population communities where the organic insertion of these fighters and their peers was developed, in a Leninist key, before and during the dictatorship.

The dramaturgy was configured from living texts orchestrated by multiple voices that narrated from the individual to the collective and even generational. Through the crossing of the testimonies, archives and repertoires of its protagonists, from a perspective that replaces that of traditional political historiography with one focused on the daily militant experience among women, an artistic and political representation with meanings of protest was articulated. and contempt against the views that point out that opposition and political women did not have their own history within recent social history.  

Artistic installation by Darling Maredi Andia Almendra in the former El Morro detention and torture center, Talcahuano. Photography by Rayén Traro.

Although the common thread of the montage linearly portrays one of the most horrifying, painful and traumatic experiences that a leftist revolutionary can live, it was possible to observe images and knowledge that expressed another of the meanings that, personally, moved me the most:��the interweaving of historical experience with the current struggle of women. I interpreted this as an honest invitation to carry out an exercise in understanding how these women have reconstructed their biographies as political subjects and how they recognize themselves around the transformation of this neoliberal and patriarchal system - an authoritarian political, economic and cultural model, as permanently mentioned it - that never fell and whose crimes against humanity continue unpunished.

In that sense, the work offers us a range of possibilities to know how these militants experienced pain and treated trauma, in addition to exposing the updated political position to which they ascribe today; position that breaks with the idea of ​​the victim and replaces it with that of the subversive and resistant, legitimizing experiences and imaginaries as a version with feminist logic that recovers and protects the memories of the dictatorship in Chile - especially those of Gran Concepción - from a dissident path to the hegemonic ones.

[tgrailwar-zero]

I'm really curious about the Memoria Fragment I. also, the Silver Sárkány Scale.

The Silver Sárkány Scale was a plate of heavy metal from the BLOODY_DRAGOON. It seemed like a usable or sellable resource, like the Program Fragments you found.

The 'Memoria Fragment' was a piece of encoded data. You could probably decode it with ease.

[astrxlfinale]

"Gotta say. Of all the ways to get around, being shot like a rocket from a giant Soulglad bottle is a one of a kind ride. S'why I can't just get enough of Penacony."

Caelus thinks it may be a little overdue to draw that stuff out into the waking world!

Sure beats the doom and gloom they'd have to carry off otherwise. Though, being met with some fresh ol' natural air, touching some grass, it's not half bad.

That and he's not lying in that Memoria soup for too long either. It gives quite the strange sensation after synchronizing with the Harmony. Almost as the fragmented emotions and idle memories still persist in the tub.