#momentary death

[urlocalwhumper]

whumpee has a very close brush with death or dies temporarily (and is resuscitated or resurrected/revived by magic or scifi means)

and caretaker soon finds that the only way they can get any decent sleep anymore is laying with their head on whumpee's chest. the steady pulse of their heartbeat acting as a constant reassurance that they're okay, they're still here.

and then one day caretaker wakes up to silence.

[existential-queeer]

Buck: "She really sees me for who I am and what I've been through. I think she might even see more in me than I see in myself."

Eddie, .00005 inches away:

[greghatecrimes]

spiritually banging my head against a wall. every time i start having respiratory/throat/chest symptoms from my mcas, I immediately flash back to all the times I've had anaphylaxis and get terrible anxiety. Survival mechanism, yes. But also... I am not having fun and I have not had full blown anaphylaxis since the early days of post mold exposure. so like. let's take a deep breath and calm down, body

[uselessnocturnal]

i just think- that maybe- perhaps- if i may dare say- please don’t come at me guns ablazing- the pacing for the pjo show could be improved

[stewy-hosseini]

“[tony gilroy] knows a little bit about me in the sense that i’m a practicing buddhist, i live my life a particular way, i try and think a particular way, and he said to me, there’s a little bit of you in melshi, in the sense that he’s already free. and that was interesting to me because, you call it resignation, and the way tony conveyed it was, it’s freedom. he’s not in a prison. because in his mind he’s already free. he doesn’t believe what’s going on. he doesn’t buy into the stories that are being told by this mythical voice that tells them what to do and when to do it. he’s not buying into the idea that they’re getting let out anytime. you can call it resignation, or you can call it acceptance.”

“melshi’s been waiting for someone like cassian to appear. and when he does, it’s almost like that spark of hope: here’s someone else who doesn’t buy what it is that we’re being told. someone else who’s willing, really—there’s a line that says as this whole thing unfolds in episode 10, i’m just gonna assume i’m already dead. and, well, the whole thing that we’ve got in common as human beings here is we are all of us going to die, it’s gonna happen, so the trick is the complete letting go of everything. the body, everything that we’ve done, all of our achievements, all of our friends, everything disappears when we go. is it possible for us then to try and do that everyday, every moment, to die to the past to what it is we’re accumulating, and does that kind of daily or momentary death bit by bit bring about a certain freedom? and i would say yes it does. and i think that’s the thing with melshi in that prison. is that, of all the people in the prison, he’s the one who’s already free.” (x)

[mumblelard]

one day she will devour the whole of the sun and curl up, cozy in the darkness that was once the warm center of our little world, but for now she just takes little bites and retires to the shadows

[quietwingsinthesky]

i know it’s just because control is my favorite video game BUT. to me, the bunker should be alive. a barely controlled, shifting mass of tunnels and doors and rooms that the Men of Letters found and chained down with the strongest magic they had at hand, tied lobotomized spirits to the halls to run and protect it and put cracks in the foundation to fill with their own blood so that “legacies” were safe to traverse it.

[severalowls]

Thinking about how if 'the afterlife' is the perceptual eternity that exists in the final instants before your brain stops then stories of paradise provide comfort that could functionally exist in that eternal second, and stories of punishment could exist to wrack the minds of the guilty in that eternal second, except that assumes that the individual feels any inkling of remorse as it ties in to a belief system or story they'd heard that stuck with them in their final moment, and also that nobody feels fleeting (stretched to eternity) guilt over something trivial in that final moment. Otherwise by inventing a 'hell' you are condemning random people.

[girlcockholmes]

hearing my dad talk abt ‘big pharma’ and ‘big insurance’ and ‘big [insert anything here]’ yet still complaining abt communism and socialism and leftism at every possible fucking chance like. girl. you are literally complaining abt every single aspect of capitalism and STILL want to defend it to your death

[inga-don-studio]

Few things remind us of our own hubris more than a full jar of horseradish.

[toestalucia]

going back to ydays post but with. spelled out main story spoilers. but ive been thinking about it all day, but truly the way it went from captain being handed (pushed into) the role of true king and mostly staying with it cuz 1) what other better way to get information is there 2) tau’luk surely had a reason for it. cuz gran does not do well with that kinda setting, theres no way theyd survive it for long, and adding on how they were siding with blf’s rebellion...as well as grans personal business with true king........

that into the entire setting of ‘yeah u get the throne so u can access the eye so u can see Everything and Exactly what threat we are up against cuz the otherworld is hijacking the timelines Massively rn and one has completely died (here u can see ur loved ones + urself die btw), also the fact ur crew nvr gives up is a chore so they r writing rackam out of the history haha rmbr when u saved alliah falling off an island with the ship? totally what happened. anyway no one around u except green knight Knows of this stuff n if someone finds out the otherworld will probably just change their memory so good luck’. is like. a whole lot. but also the entire thing of choosing not to give up being so important is ssoooooo good that i

[sapphireshineauthor]

Just to add in my two cents here, the AI is failing because of their plagiarism training, as others stated as well. AI I believe can be very useful, but literally they will die if they try to continue stealing work to feed into the bots.

AI can be a very useful tool. Only in terms of a "By me, for me" system. ONLY in that type of system.

But these hyped up AI companies will not get that far because they refuse to actually train AI on consented materials. Companies of all sorts are trying to get data for free when they can't and they're shooting themselves in the foot because of that.

It doesn't help that AI generated work as it is right now is un-copyrightable, for good reason. The simplest solution if plausible is to have the skeleton of the AI locked down and then can be trained solely on content that's allowed to be used. An artist or a writer can input their works only to have the system integrate that, and that AI is locked to that specific creator. Which in the end, can help a lot depending on the situation. I know that the copyright law as of now is that AI work of any sort is un-copyrightable even if all the data used to train it belongs to a singular person. But there's a chance if people actually sit back and think about this.

Stealing someone else's work is horrendous and I personally hate it with every bone in my being, but it doesn't change the fact that AI can be very useful. Again, AI can be super handy like it's supposed to if people stop trying to actually replace people with it and steal materials to train it... like, AI is a supplement, and augmentation to potentially speed up whatever process needs speeding up. It can't replace, it can't be trained on the web with no compensation, and anyone who thinks that is just shooting themselves in the foot because it'll lead to no money and just more grievances for creatives who are already struggling.

AI will die unless companies stop getting high off the hype and actually THINK. I actually hope it does die so companies will be forced to think. End of rant, apologies for it.

ChatGPT is running out of money because they haven't actually figured out how to make money with the plagiarism engine they created.

Like to charge, reblog to cast.

[tcrturedpcet]

Closed Event Starter for @tragcdyfallen Who: Nova Fellowes & Any Where: Coruscant

"I never thought I'd see this place again. At least not how it looked before everything that happened." Nova softly spoke, hoping not to bother the other too much as she gazed upon the temple. It was a place where she grew up, and where she learned almost everything about the force. This used to be her home before it was destroyed, and almost all of the force users were killed, or even tortured by the empire. "It doesn't even look like it changed from when I was last here before order sixty-six."

[qualiacumque]

oh "unicorn tolerance" by the mountain goats bridge lyrics we're really in it now

[catilinas]

@noknowshame scream. scream. scream.

we miss you cato come back

i have been dead since 46 bce

[chatsukimi]

ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

featuring: protective!heian!sukuna, kindhearted!servant!reader. slight angst/hurt -> comfort. synopsis: you're sick. to your surprise, you're rescued by the man second closest to death himself. masterlist

you should've known he wouldn't come. sukuna has never set foot in the servant's headquarters in his life, let alone to chase after a sick servant. you lower your head, trying to ease the headache that has plagued you through the day.

sukuna loves his bloodshed and his gore. him and death would be good friends, you think to yourself. he wouldn't care if your body was burnt or buried, you think to yourself; wouldn't care if you died at all.

the room the others put you in is empty. ash spreads neatly over the cold floor. the scent of kibble haunts the atmosphere. it's where they put the dogs before sukuna killed them.

ever since you took care of the king of curses while he was sick, the other servants had been careful in keeping a distance from you. not in ill of heart; they're simply terrified at what you must've done to survive in your week long stay with the monster. honestly, you don't blame them.

but now when you're laying on the freezing ground, struggling to breathe, it's hard not to.

'this is where you live?'

your eyes look up. shock. then, with all the strength you can muster, you heave yourself one step away from the man at the doorway, which only serves to piss him off more.

sukuna ryomen, in all his glory, looks down at you. bending down to pick you up like a limp doll to be seated against the wall, he seems to revel in his regained strength. you can't help but feel happy for him, to have survived this fatal disease. not many men can attest to that...

then again, he is no ordinary man.

'i asked you a question.'

you nod, a small thing, barely a movement. he seems to clench his teeth.

he takes off his long white coat, flaunting a layer of dried blood, and drapes it over your shoulders.

yet it doesn't end there. he retrieves from his pocket a bottle of what looks to be a golden syrup.

you know exactly what it is.

he takes your hand and wraps it around the flask, making you hold it, sparing, not one, but two of his eyes, to stare at you, making sure you do as he commands.

'swallow.'

you shake your head. you know he's asking you to do. this is a medication is so rare for your disease that no sorcerer has found in over a hundred years. he's brought this thing of myth right to your very lips. now he's asking you to drink it, and thus take away any chance of it saving anyone else's life.

you scowl, but the tickling sensation in your throat grows stronger, eventually erupting out of your mouth in a harsh cough. you look away from sukuna.

'leave,' you whisper, weakly. 'don't wanna infect you.'

'i survived the illness already. i've developed an immunity.'

you shake your head again. you couldn't threaten your king's health with your own weakness. you just couldn't.

'i can't take this.'

he growls. without any notice, he swallows your lips in a kiss. in the momentary haze, you could hardly resist, fisting the front of his kimono to ground yourself. then, you feel something sweet, honey-ish, hit your tongue.

with his hand locked on your chin, it forces you to swallow.

you pull back, pushing him away. he groans.

he wipes his mouth, still with two eyes staring.

no... no, why did he do that?

'y-you- how? no... why did you waste it on me?' you whisper, desperately searching his face for an answer. 'i'm just a servant. you could've given it to a princess, or a scholar, or priest-'

he grabs you by the arm and forces you into his arms. its heat astounds you, and you find yourself crawling closer. a vague thumping sound seems to press against your ear-

oh. you calm your breathing.

it's his heartbeat.

alive.

'sleep in my room tonight,' he demands.

what did he say? you strain your mind, trying to replay what he said earlier. no... maybe you heard correctly.

'but i'm no concubine,' you respond, instantly.

his arm supports your waist, helping you up effortlessly to your feet. he then directs two of his eyes to the doorway, his cadence low and domineering.

'it doesn't matter.'

he leads you placidly through the servant's quarters. you notice all conversation cease at your entry, bodies dropping into a low bow. a small voice in you whispers that it's where you should be too. you tug at sukuna's arm.

'i'm only a servant, sukuna.'

you know what it looks like, a servant clutching onto a man, more god than human. a man who has slaughtered villages, blood staining the base of his kimono crimson, and turned half a province on its head, just to save you.

'whatever you are in my eyes is what you are to the world,' he states, his expression unchanging. 'if i deem you a queen, that is who you are.'

exiting the servant compound, you know you can't say no- not like you wanted to. the wide expanse of his chest is comforting.

yet however sweet this feeling remains, you can't help but gulp. perhaps this is the closest a human has ever come to courting death.