#seles writes

[seleswrites]

serena ira | Leon S. Kennedy/Reader | find on AO3

And on the seventh day, god brought your soulmate into a dying city, crawling with the monstrous undead. Damn your luck.

Fandom: Resident Evil 2 (remake)

Relationship: Leon/Reader

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2,568

Tags: soulmate AU, canon divergence/not canon compliant, no Y/N, Leon A and Claire B (in my head they meet up before the final train scene), canon typical violence, lots of cursing, reader can be anyone but I tend to write queer afab reader-oc's.

Event: @lunarbuck's Soulmate AU writing challenge

Soulmate Prompt: "You and your soulmate have matching tattoos that become clear once you meet." (Added a bit of flavor so hope it's a good read still!)

Photo credits: Nicolas Ladino Silva (woman in shadow) and Trevor (city landscape) on Unsplash

A/N: Nothing like a new fandom to control the braincell. Please be kind, I just got into RE like two weeks ago lmao! I only know half of RE2:make, the RE4:make, and Lady D from Village.

An entire city overturned into a place of nightmares not even within a week. 

Familiar streets turned into dangerous traps filled with, what you could only describe as, the undead. You had no idea how you were going to survive. Hell, you had no idea you've survived this week. Damned Luck pitying you perhaps, for Her sick game. 

The Raccoon City PD was no longer a safe haven like the radio repeated, a turned labyrinth of monsters, and the group of people you escaped with (stupidly taking your chances outside, running out as quickly as you had run inside) and traveled with dwindled in number as many small hordes of once living and breathing people descended upon you all, multiple times. Until more people broke off on their own. Until more people became part of the living dead numbers. Until it was just you. Just you. Alone. 

Didn't anyone learn about the buddy system? 

And, somewhere in the middle of this all on the sixth or seventh day, your outer forearm inked with your soulmate mark -- a large raven feather that broke into smaller silhouettes of the same bird, flying off your skin if it could -- burned with the damned telling sign that you were close to that First Meeting. That they, whoever they are, were close. And very much alive. 

Great. In the middle of a zombie apocalypse and your soulmate had to arrive somewhere within this large ass city. That would be the cards dealt by Lady Luck. And your luck would pin either of you as dead before arrival. 

You couldn't curse your bad luck enough. On the verge of leaving, meager and stolen supplies packed up in a motorbike you've hidden in a secure space and a route planned out of the city, you hesitated. A settling sinking feeling sat in your stomach like a heavy stone. You can't leave your soulmate here to die. With a growl, you shoved your assorted pockets and bags with as much ammo, medical supplies, food and water as possible, finality lining every movement. 

Damn it! Damn them!

Following the burning pulse radiating in strength as you, hopefully, close the distance, you leave your own safety bubble to seek your soulmate out. Out in the rainy night in this dreary city. Bundled in the remains of a warm outfit. Whatever fucking idiot was roaming around here better be worth it. 

Hours of slow going, getting soaked to the bones, avoiding the hoards as they swarmed the PD station again as a loud siren and explosions echoed in the night air, your heart sank. 

You gotta be kidding me. 

That would be the most likely place in the city, wouldn't it? 

Damn your luck. 

(On any other day, you wouldn't curse your lack of luck to incur more of Lady Luck's wrath; even now, you're still alive thanks to the whimsies of Luck and the Fates. And firearm and survival lessons of your paranoid and militaristic step-fa-- your dad. For another countless time this week, you wished he was still alive so you could thank him for his hindsight for all his 'ridiculous' teachings. Still: fucking damn your luck--) 

Stop. 

Control your breathing, even as panic laced every inhale, every exhale. Focus on keeping quiet, on this warmer-colder game of tag with someone you don't even know, on keeping alive because what's the point if you die in process? 

Focus on the undead blocking your path to get back into the metal graveyard of the museum-turned-police-station before you. 

Aim at the back of its head.

Line up the shot. 

Inhale.

Steady.

Gotta thank the old man when you die a natural death of old age and see him in the afterlife. Or something like that, you thought, firing the shot. 

The creature shrieked a horrifying hiss as the bullet hit, like someone released air out of a balloon, a squeaky sound that you still internally wince, unused to it even after this week. It twisted and turned, head lulled back, and you ready-aimed-fired a quick second bullet before you could see its face. You didn't want another ghost of their human self to add into the mix of your dreams -- whenever you did find a safe space to sleep next. 

The body dropped to the wet ground in an awful slump. 

Exhale. 

White puff of cold air left your lips as you stared at the body for a second to see it unmoved. Quickly, you checked your surroundings for any other zombies; four more shots fired, three downed dead, three more bullets in your P220's mag. Another prayer casted towards the capricious Lady Luck: please, don't summon a licker.

An empty street was all that greeted you. Nothing attracted by the sound of bullets firing, nothing but an unnerving feeling that you were being watched, shivering beyond the coldness of the rainy night. A loud scraping sound kept you low to the ground, half bent over and nearly squatting, as you casted your eyes around, looking for signs of threats. 

No threats. Street still empty. Empty, except two survivors in the distance, exiting from the Station’s parking lot. 

From where the noise came from. 

On the other side of the sinkhole and its halted repair started before this week of hell. 

You managed to get yourself to the edge of it, avoiding two zombies eating flesh along the way, them happily and thankfully ignoring you as horrifying chewing and slurping sounds loudly scraped against your own gut. Managed just quick enough as the two strangers had their back to you, one working their way to get inside the gun store, its neon sign lighting highlighting the woman's silhouette with a fade glow of red. 

"Hey!" you wanted to scream, but the word stuck in your throat. It wouldn't do anyone good to scream here and attract monsters. Selfishly, you wanted someone to turn around, to see you in the distance, to wait for you-- As if you could be heard, the other silhouette turned, ever so slightly, enough for you to read the miniscule and faded letters of R.P.C. across his chest. 

The mark hiccuped in its heat, only fluttering coolness the brief moment you both saw each other. Your breath hitched in your throat. 

Him. It's him.

The door to the gun shop opened and, even from your spot across the way, you heard the woman call out to the cop, distance obscuring what she actually said however. She entered the shop without a backward glance. He hesitated, giving you a look you were too far away to read, before following in after his partner. 

You couldn't help but rub your fingers along the cooling shape of a feather on your arm, a silent prayer on your lips to the Fates or fucking Luck or whatever listening to give whatever goodwill you had and send it to him. Let him survive. 

And then you were alone again.

Let him be safe. Please. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A curse hissed out of your mouth, unwanted as a zombie bit at your not dominant arm, the one burning with the feather soulmate mark. The wound's deep enough where blood blossomed under your sleeves, but you yelped as you wrenched your arm free. Its teeth pulled away with your skin and shirt fabric in between its maw. It growled. You shoved the barrel of your pistol against its temple, firing. 

Blood and brains splattered onto your long sleeves, already soiled with sewage and dried gore. A loud groan left your lips, frustrated at your sloppiness over the fact you were bleeding. Contagion was the least of your worries; you'd been a zombie three times over during this week. But regular infection of an untreated wound? That could kill you. 

Your thoughts stilled as a chilling scream sucked in your breath. 

You should have expected the NEST to be filled with zombies, everywhere else in the city was. It's why you shared your ammo with Claire as she explored her portion of the NEST to unlock the antiviral needed to save Sherry; if anything, she had a better sense of survival than you, especially after the way she fought that terrifying eyeball monster of a once-human. 

What you didn't expect was the fucking licker crawling around on the ceiling. 

You should have.

A high pitched whine sent a chill down your spine, before its long claws scraped across the walls. 

Tensing, you covered your mouth and held your handgun in its direction, hoping that it didn't hear you. You didn't have enough rounds in the mag, hell in general if you had to fight it. Two shots left before reloading. Your pistol’s full eight wouldn't even be enough. 

Circle around it slowly as it seemed to sniff the air (and deluded yourself that it could not smell your disgusting stench of sewer and sweat clinging to you). 

Slowly, foot by foot.  

Freeze as it hissed again.

The door opened, creaking. Both the licker and you tilted towards it. One booted foot in, someone you know by the returning of the intense burning of your forearm in the shape of a raven's feather. 

Him. 

The licker posed to jump in his direction, like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse. 

Fuck you Lady Luck and her shitty timing.  

"Careful, licker!" you shouted. 

It whipped around towards you, its loud growling wheeze echoing in the room. Fucking shit-- 

The bastard howled as it lunged forward. 

Into your space. 

Duck -- too late. It jumped on your body, throwing you to the ground as its large claws hit your shoulders. You yelped from the impact. Happlessly, you fired your two shots into its large, brain-like head. The bullets hit, but not the weak spot. 

Another shot rang out in the room. Enough for the licker to hesitate sinking its teeth in your flesh. It erupted in flames as He came closer, holding a fucking flamethrower in his hand. It screamed. Its weight disappeared and you scrambled back on your hands and arms, pain shooting through them in the movement as blood, old and new, smeared along your palms. The smell of burning flesh, nothing like the sweet scent cooking but more ashen and decay, filled your nose, alongside the metallic under layer of blood, your blood. 

The screams died as the licker did, flames simmering down into nothingness alongside its charred and blackened skin. You forced yourself to sit up, groaning in pain. Everything hurt. Your back, your shoulders, your arms especially -- but you couldn't tell if that's because of how heavy you hit the ground or that damned fucking mark that threatened to burn your own arm off. 

He cursed, repeated fucks and shit expelling under breath as he made it to your side. "Here, you're okay, you're okay, I got you."

He pulled out some medical supplies from within his packs. A bottle of hydrogen peroxide. A roll of bandages. Without thinking, he reached for your bleeding arm. 

And the burning stopped, his touch instantly dropped your arm into a freezing chill as his eyes took in the teeth marks ripped in your skin, the bloodied feather and its tiny ravens, ink gradually running clear. You shivered and he did a double-take on you, hand shaking as if he too was dropped below zero. 

A moment paused into an eternity as you caught your breath. In the darkened room with broken flickering lights overhead, dark shadows chiseled his face in sharp angles, despite his youthful look. Stands of light golden blonde hair clung to his forehead, dirtied with grime and sweat. Blue eyes swept over your features, just as you did to him. 

Even in this mess, he was handsome, pretty even. Heat licked your cheeks as your mind wandered on how pretty would he be cleaned up…

"You’re the goddamn idiot,” you muttered under breath, face heating from embarrassment. Talk about a dramatic First Meeting. 

"What?" the stranger asked, strangely breathless. "Hey. Are you okay?"

His eyes widened, blues roaming between your arm and your face again. You didn't answer him, but you said a bit louder, "It’s you."

"It's…me." Words he repeated, but laced with a question. Like he didn’t realize who he was to you. Not until the remaining half an outline of the feather, barely just visible, disappeared entirely as he laid another glance on it.

Nothing. Like you were never marked at all. 

“Oh…”

He knew now.

"Yes, you! The kind of idiot that strolls into an infested city of the undead!" you said, words streaming from your lips in a hiss, holding back your scream as he no longer knelt frozen before you and worked to disinfect your wound. Unwanted tears pricked at the edge of your eyes; you lied that it was because of the sting of the disinfectant, not frustration nor relief to see him. "You were safe up until today!" 

And you could have been okay dying with that knowledge!

He tied the bandage tight, too tight, and you winced from the pain. “Sorry,” he apologized softly, even as his lips pressed into a thin line. “But I had my duty. I couldn’t leave the city without helping.”  

You slapped his hold on you away -- he let you go easily -- and forced yourself to your feet. He followed you quickly, arms reaching out to steady you as you swayed and stumbled onto your feet, sliding on gore and fluids, legs trembling in pain and useless adrenaline. His grip on your arms were tight, hands warm and comforting. 

"Right… Duty.” The word tasted like blood in your mouth. You’ve seen enough people die for the sake of duty; you’ve seen others die for less honorable reasons. Something hot burned down your grime-streaked cheeks. “And I was leaving. I was leaving," you confessed. “I couldn’t, not with you here. Guess we’re both the idiots here.”  

A faint chuckle, akin to puffs of air more than anything, left his lips. Slowly, as if you were a spooked cat, his hands found your cheeks, thumbs running comforting wipes along the trails left by your tears. You tried not to lean into his touch, craving that comfort from him selfishly.

"Thank you." It's soft, embarrassed even as his eyes gaze just a little out of your reach, and his cheeks tinted with pink. 

"Don't thank me yet,” you scoffed, “Now we can die together." 

Another laugh. "Fair enough. It's not safe out here." 

"Duh, Mr. Obvious.” 

But he smiled like nothing happened, a cheeky little grin that warms you even further. Oh shit, he's cute. "It's Kennedy, actually. Leon Kennedy," he said, introducing himself. 

You gave yours, rolling your eyes as he repeated it reverently. 

"We're going to get out of here alive. I swear it," Leon promised with such conviction you believed him. “Okay?” 

He waited until you nodded to release your cheeks, but not before his eyes lingered on your lips. As if you didn’t share the same thoughts. Later, later. 

Instead, Leon grabbed your gun from off the floor. Relief settled your limbs as your hands found the familiar metal of your handgun. Silently, you reloaded, as he did the same, hands reaching for his shotgun. 

Not dead yet, still a chance.

Taking a deep breath, you grinned at him as fake confidence steered your lips, "Alright then, pretty boy, lead the way. I got your back." 

"Pretty boy?"

[popponn]

Seeing the esteemed Duke of Meropide eyes a pair of decorations curiously is an amusing experience, turns out. Even when your relationship with him is pretty much an unsaid ‘almost lover’ situation.

“So,” leaning against his working desk, you try not to smile too wide, “do you like them?”

Wriothesley continues to stare and blink at the black and white dog miniatures—intended to be placed on flat surfaces, however, your creativity is your limit, or so the craftsmen of Liyue said. Straightening his sitting posture, he then leans towards the objects that sit on his desk. “…this feels like a series,” he finally says after a long while, taking one of the two dogs. He once again takes in the merry dog figurine in his hand. Slightly bigger than his thumb, carrying a ball with a tail that is depicted to be in the middle of a swishing motion.

“It is. There are actually another eight dogs,” and also another twenty cats that are a story or, perhaps, a gift for another time, “but I don’t know if you will like it… or do you even have the space to keep all ten, so I just buy you two this time.”

“Hey, hey, since when do I seem like the sort of person who is unappreciative of something people give me?” Wriothesley put down the dog, only to take another one up. In between that, a smile and a glance are addressed to you humorously, yet as softly as always. “And also…”

You realize he purposefully trails off. “And also?”

With how entertained he is at the handcrafted woods, you think he will praise the craftsmanship. Or perhaps, it is time to recall that musing of his about wanting to keep a pet and how these two will be a perfect replacement. Or maybe, he will make another unpredictable joke one would never thought would come out from his mouth.

Yet, instead of all of that, Wriothesley merely reaches out a hand to take yours while his other hand and focus remain on your present. His tone is far from anything—as if he is simply stating a fact. Despite all that, the squeeze he gives as he intertwines his fingers with yours says enough.

“This is from you,” he states, finally shifting his attention to fully land on you. “There is no way I would dislike it.”

[clwhowrites]

Prompt 27/8/24

Jeffery Sloan summons a demon with the intent to sell his soul to save his dying business, Jeffery is surprised when the demon tells him “Yeah, sorry, we don’t take souls. I mean you are going to hell anyway so there so no value in souls. There are other payment methods though.”

[multifairyus]

Bree and Sel Shipnames?

What are we thinking y’all?

• Names mashed together? BreeSel, SelBree?

• Name combo? Selee? Brelwyn? (Ngl I have a soft spot from this as a Soriku, Percabeth, Killugon, and Shadowgast shipper )

• Aether signature combo? Amber Whiskey? Cinnamon Honey? (OMG LIKE THEIR EYES?!) Honey Whiskey? Cinnamon Amber? (OMG LIKE THEIR EYES?!)

• OG “X”pairing? BreeXSel, SelxBree? BrianaXSelwyn and SelwynXBriana for the thorough?

• Something cute with their titles? “A King and her Kingsmage” is a Thing™️ of course but too long…maybe what they aren’t? A Princess and her Knight? I’m willing to bet that princess is a “special” nickname between them

[mehmetyildizmelbourne-blog]

Interview with Mr Svyatoslav Biryulin

CEO, Business Strategist, Board Member, Book Author, Senior Strategy Consultant Dear readers and writers, welcome to my new interview story, which introduces another accomplished writer whose writing impressed me a lot. I enjoy interacting with people from diverse cultures, countries, and professional backgrounds. I have been interviewing professionals for a long time. I am writing this from my…

[mistyacorn]

childish love

sypnosis; gepard embarrasses reader, so reader embarrasses him back. what children…

pairing(s); bf gepard + gn! reader ⟿ featuring; established relationship, playful gepard, cheeky and immature reader ngl, childish love, big fluff

❀ wc; 1,681

a/n; hi! this was so cute to write, gepard is my favourite and he’s such a cutie . it’s not a short read but i don’t think i’d consider it a long read either. in between hehe. ty for reading!!

You, Dan Heng, March and Selee have been invited to visit Bronya, the new supreme guardian, in her new office. The four of you are guided inside by a Silvermane guard, who tells you to stay close and not get lost - especially since the building is getting renovated at the moment.

As you travel through the many long hallways and flights of stairs together, Selee starts her small rant about the ugly carpet choice in the building. March and her get into a deep discussion about why and why not green should be the colour of the carpet. The guard leading you clearly does not want to interfere in this debate, keeping his eyes straight forward and walking further and further ahead. And Dan Heng is, well… uninterested.

You’re at the back of the pack, paying more attention to the different boxes and crates that are being moved around you. There are some guards standing about, chatting noisily as if they aren’t on duty. Another guard is stacking three large crates on top of each other, working hard to transport as many as he can efficiently. There’s also a sheepish looking guard scratching his neck as he’s being scolded by a blonde man- hey! It’s Gepard!

You eyes light up at the sight of your boyfriend. Gosh he’s hot when he’s being fierce… Suddenly you’re swooning over him, not noticing that the group you were with were walking further away from you. Your feet don’t move as you simply stare towards his direction.

When you finally snap out of it, you turn to see that your buddies and the guard are long gone. Oops. You decide to find your way to Bronya’s office yourself, how hard can it be?

You advance down the hallway you’re in, stop at the end and find yourself with two choices. Left or right? A second passes before you randomly choose right. Right is always right, after all!

And so that is your strategy for the next seven turns, making mostly right turns and occasionally a left. After your eighth corner, you stop and huff unhappily. You aren’t… lost, …just-

“Exploring are we?” A voice sounds from behind you. You turn to see none other than Gepard, your boyfriend, who has an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed as he approaches you. “Or are you lost, dear?”

You narrow your eyes. “I am not lost! I’m just- um.. admiring the hallway that’s all.” You spit out a lie, to which Gepard raises his eyebrows mockingly to.

“I just watched you walk down seven different hallways, each time looking more confused than the previous one.” He informs you. “So, you’re lost.”

You can’t save yourself from that. “Whatever. It’s not my fault this stupid building has a thousand stupid hallways that all intersect for some strange reason!” You complain, crossing your arms.

Your boyfriend stifles a laugh, covering his mouth in attempts to hide it. It’s obvious to you though. You glare at him and smack his arm, clicking your tongue. “Shut up.” You mutter. “I’ll find my way there sooner or later, watch me!”

You’re just about to storm away to god knows where when Gepard grabs your wrist gently to stop you. “You’re an idiot. I’ll take you there.” He suggests.

You want to reject his offer, after all, you want to prove you have some sort of directional skills. But on the other hand, you probably will end up getting to Bronya’s office the next day if you do so. You sigh and turn back to the boy, who has an expectant look on his face. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, of course.

“Fine.” You huff, and Gepard swears he can see the gloomy cloud above your head. He smiles softly and pokes your cheek. Then he puts his hands on your shoulders, turns you around and guides you forward.

“This way, sunshine.” He says, walking beside you. The two of you walk down a couple more hallways with him leading you. You also go up a flight of stairs, the same stairs you had passed earlier, when you were navigating this place yourself.

“You know, you could have made it to her office earlier,” he points out, blatantly teasing you, “if only you actually read the sign..” He gestures towards the wooden sign on the wall beside you. It reads ‘Supreme Guardian’s Office’ with a very clear arrow printed, pointing up the stairs.

Just then, from behind you two, three guards walk past quietly. One guard accidentally laughs aloud, earning smacks from the others. They dash away, but you two knew they had heard Gepard’s comment.

Your face burns and he notices this as you two continue to walk. You can see him glancing at you from the corner of your eyes so you shove him in the arm. Furrowing your brows, you look away from him.

His eyes are on you and he laughs to himself softly at how adorable you are when you’re embarrassed. I’m going to get him back, you think to yourself.

A short walk later, you two finally arrive at the hallway heading to the office doors. Down at the end, beside the doors, stand two guards in the Silvermane uniform. Something clicks in your brain, and you immediately have an idea.

“Well, it’s right down the hallway,” Gepard says, gesturing with his head. “Go on.”

You grin cheekily and turn to him. “Wait, why don’t you walk me to the door too?” You do your best innocent face, adding a “please” afterwards.

Your boyfriend sees a clear sparkle in your eye, and he senses you’re up to something. Yeah, you’re cute, but.. “Why?” He questions.

“Because.” You quickly make up something on the spot, “I just… need you to help me get into the room, in case the guards over there don’t allow me to go in, you know?”

He looks a little confused so you add, “Plus, you’re my boyfriend.” (Damn you pulled the boyfriend card. Respect.)

Gepard doesn’t really know what to do. He has more duties to attend to, but you looked so eager to have him go with you. And he doesn’t move so… you decide for him.

You grab his arm and pull him forward, dragging the tall man down the hallway with you. “Woah!” He nearly trips following you, “Okay, okay, slow down!”

Now you pull him by your side and cling your arm around his, smiling happily and continuing your walk with Gepard confusingly trotting alongside you. He doesn’t know now but he probably should have escaped then…

When you reach the door, your boyfriend greets the two guards politely with a nod. Then he turns to you. “Okay we’re here. Go in.” He says quietly, motioning to the door with his ocean blue eyes.

You smile sweetly. “Okay, thank you baby~!” Your voice suddenly rings loudly, in this quiet hallway. “I told you you didn’t have to, but you’re such a sweet boyfriend for bringing me all the way to the doorstep!”

Gepard’s eyes widen, and his cheeks instantly turn pink. The guards at the door are wearing masks, but you both know that they are hearing every word and watching every move you guys make.

“Well, goodbye for now!” You batt your eyelashes sweetly at him, a grin on your face. The guards may see your smile as a normal one but Gepard sees the teasing glimmer in your eye. You jump up and hug him tightly, and he hugs you back in confusion.

“What are you doing??” He whispers into your ear.

Your grin grows wider as you whisper back. “Just thanking you.”

The boy is more confused than ever as you pull away from the hug, eyes still looking straight into his. What are you up to?

“What’s that baby? You want a kiss goodbye?” You giggle as you lie loudly, making sure the guards could hear you.

Gepard’s eyes widen again. No no no no what is she-

Before he knows it, your lips are on his, kissing him ever so passionately. He stands there with wide eyes for a second, before gently putting one hand on your cheek and pushing you away slightly.

“Babe, not now.” He mutters, clearly embarrassed from his red cheeks and ears.

You blink. Yeah right, you’re not getting off this easy.

You immediately crash your lips back onto his again, knowing that Gepard is most definitely dying of embarrassment right now. Hah! Revenge rocks!

Meanwhile, your boyfriend is struggling to push you back, and his mind is racing. He loves your kisses, he wants to kiss you back.. but- the guards are watching, he can’t! Oh, but your kiss… NO! But your lips….

At this point, you’re nearly making out with him. And unconsciously, Gepard finds himself kissing you back. You feel a sense of satisfaction, as though you had accomplished your mission in embarrassing him back. Slowly, he actually starts falling deeper into the kiss, basically forgetting about his fellow guards nearby.

A minute of kissing (making out) later, he snaps back into reality and he pushes you away. To Gepard’s dismay however, the guards were both already gone. He sighs heavily as he closes his eyes, already knowing that soon, the rest of the Silvermane guards will know about this… event. On the contrary, you were grinning proudly, nodding your head in approval.

“Thank you, babe.” He stares at you, his voice low, his eyes saying ‘fuck you’ and his tongue rolling the inside of his cheek in annoyance.

You smile, and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Now we’re even.” You giggle at his expression as you turn around to (finally) enter Bronya’s office.

“I love you~!” You sing aloud, before opening the door and entering.

Your boyfriend watches as the door closes behind you, face still warm from embarrassment. He sighs and turns around to walk down the hallway again.

Of course, he can’t stop himself from smiling ever so slightly as he thinks of your last words. He’s too in love with you too.

© mistyacorn do not plagiarize or repost please, just enjoy it ykwim

[dutifullylazybread]

A Fun D&D Resource

Hi everyone,

If you are writing a fic/DMing and need to know the distances between locations on the Sword Coast, check out this interactive map that I found:

It will give you the kilometers/miles between locations and the time it would take to travel between them.

[mesetacadre]

The Yugoslav volunteers in the International Brigades

Translated from this article, my own comments in [italicized brackets]

The total number of Yugoslavs in Spain differs according to researchers. The French historian, Hervé Lemesle, states that the total exceeds 1900, with the main contingent being Croatian, followed by Slovenes and Serbs. A majority were workers from many sectors and peasants. There were also doctors, engineers, teachers, journalists, and students. Most traveled from Yugoslavia, although there were groups of exileds or migrants from many European countries, as well as the US, Canada or Argentina.

The number of deaths (including MIA) in Spain is close to 800, a very high percentage (40%), although other studies estimate 32%. At any rate, it’s higher than the average losses for the International Brigades (27%). The most notorious victim was Blagoje Parović [Šmit, nom de guerre], part of the Communist Party of Yugoslavia’s Central Committee and political commissar of the XIII International Brigade, who died the first day in the Battle of Brunete. His remains were buried in the Fuencarral cemetery.

There were 16 Yugoslav women in the Health Services. The oldest was 43, while the youngest were only 22 years old. Most of the female volunteers arrived in Spain in 1937, from the Kingdom of Yugoslavia or countries such as Algeria, Belgium, Czechoslovakia, France, and Uruguay. Some of those women had been active agents of the worker movement or even members of the CPY before leaving for Spain. Those who lacked medical training attended a preparation course beforehand. They worked in the hospitals of Murcia, Albacete, Benicasim, Denia, Madrigeras, Vic, and other cities. Avgust Lesnik writes: “There were 16 women: doctors Adela Bohunicki, Nada Dimitrijević-Nešković, and Dobrila Mezić-Šiljak, [as well as the nurses] Ana-Marija Basch (Baš), Olga Dragić-Belović (Milić Milica), Elizabeta-Liza Gavrić, Marija-Peči Glavaš, Marija Habulin, Lea Kraus, Tereza Kučera, Lujza Pihler (Demić Borka), Ottilia Reschitz-Zanoni, Ana Seles-Brozović, Kornelija Sende-Popović, Eugenia Simonetti, and Marija Šneeman”.

Borka Demic (right) in the Pasionaria Hospital of Murcia (colored by Tina Paterson)

If I were to be born again, I’d continue fighting for the ideals of my youth. Then, nothing was difficult and I don’t regret anything (Borka Demic)

The Yugoslav volunteers in the various units and arms

After the formation of the International Brigades, the Yugoslav volunteers were distributed throughout different units. For instance, the Edgar André battalion had 36, the Thälmann had 93, Garibaldi had 40, and Chapaiev had 78. The main body of Yugoslavs, however, were first integrated into the Balkan company of the Dombrowski battalion (120), and immediately after, into the Dimitrov battalion. By early 1938 a good portion of the Yugoslavs were integrated into two of the 129th Brigade’s battalions: Dimitrov (191) and Djaković (150). They were also a part of the 45th International Division (108)

There was Yugoslav presence in various arms and services: 4 in aviation; 12 in transport units, 1 in the navy, 33 in the International Brigades’ health service, and 26 in the guerrilla groups (one of the most experienced of which was Ljubomir Ilič). More important than this was their presence (131 members) in the artillery arm, of which there were 21 in the heavy artillery Slav Group, 22 in the 2nd heavy artillery Škoda Group’s Liebknecht Battery, 18 in the 3rd heavy artillery Group, 38 in the 4th anti-tank Group’s Stjepan Radić battery, 6 in the 35 Division’s Ana Pauker artillery Group, 5 in the 45 Division’s Rosa Luxembourg artillery Group, and 21 in the Gottwald battery. Furthermore, 65 Yugoslavs fought in the Spanish units of the Republican Army. (Avgust Lesnik)

They fought in almost every front in Spain, from the defense of Madrid to the very last battles of the retreat into France (Januray-February 1939) being an example of fearlessness and courage, because of which a good part of them received war medals from the Spanish Republican Government.

The Dimitrov battalion until December 1937

As has been explained in another article, the Dimitrov battalion was formed in January 1937 in the instructional base in Mahora. They entered battle the 12th of February in the Jarama battle, which finished the 27th of that same month. Then, until mid June, it stayed covering that from with the other battalions of the XV International Brigade.

After a two week rest in Ambite (Tajuña valley), the XV Brigade travelled to Madrid’s north to take part of the first great republican offensive in Brunete. Combat started during the night of the 5 to the 6th of July. The XV International Brigade was a part of, along the XIII and 16 BM, the XV Division under general Gal’s command [János Gálicz, a Soviet-Hungarian officer who also led the Lincoln Battalion]. The mission was to take the heights of Romanillos (XIII IB) and Mosquito (XV IB). It wasn’t possible because operations were slow and the brigades could not take the important francoist positions. The Dimitrov went as far as taking the Miraval Olive Grove, but in the 18th of July, when the first francoist counter-offensive commences, they lost it. Since that point, the republican positions began to retreat until the 22nd, when they were forced to cross back through the Guadarrama river. The XV IB was relieved the 26th of July and went back to where they began the offensive.

In late July, the Dimitrov returned to Ambite (Tajuña valley) and was able to reorganize: the battalion, that had arrived with 143 combatants, reached 563. In this way, in the 24th of August, it threw itself with renewed force against the Aragonian village of Quinto, which fell 26th. During the taking of the village and the Purburell hill, which defended them to the east, the Dimitrov battalion’s courage stood out. The same was true in the fierce week-long combat to subdue Belchite.

After this battle, the Dimitrov was detached from the XV Brigade and, during the few following months, was a part of, along with the Djuro Djakovic battalion, the 45th International Division’s Reserve Group. It was a period that they dedicated to military education and to the surveillance of the Huesca Front from the second line. In January 1938 they received the order to transfer to the Southern Front. Close to Almadén, in Chillón, the last International Brigade was formed, the 129th; composed of these two battalions plus the newly created Masaryk battalion.

The Djuro Djakovic Battalion

Composed primarily of Yugoslav volunteers, plus a few Czechoslovaks and Bulgarians, adopted their name in memory of that Croat revolutionary and member of the CPY, tortured and executed in 1929 by order of the king and dictator Alexander the First.

It was formed in April 1937 from the Balkan Company of the Dombrowski battalion. This Company had participated, with the Dombrowski, in the Defense of Madrid and in the battles of Boadilla, Jarama, and Guadalajara. Its excellent conduct pushed general Lukács [Béla Frankl, or Máté Zalka, nom de guerre Pál Lukács, a Hungarian veteran of the Russian Civil War, where he fought alongside the Bolsheviks, he died 2 months later in Huesca], leader of the XII IB, to convert the Company into the core from which the new Djure Djakovic battalion would arise. Its first combat happened in April 1937 in Santa Quiteria, in the Aragon Front, along the Rakosi battalion and the Karl Marx Division.

It returned to Carabaña (Madrid) to reorganize under the command of Bulgarian captain Jristov, and marched to Roquetes in June (close to Tortosa) to join the 150th IB (Dombrowski Brigade), formed in May from the Dombrowski, Rakosi, and André Marty battalions. This brigade plus the XII IB formed the 45th division, under the command of General Kléber [Manfred Stern, nom de guerre Emilio Kléber, a Ukranian Jew member of Soviet military intelligence], was sent to Madrid in early July to take part in the Brunete offensive as a reserve unit to the XVIII Army Corps.

The Djakovic battalion did not have any special role in Brunete, but it did in the following offensive towards Zaragoza (24th of August - 7th of September), as was expressed in Wladimir Stopczyk’s final report as Commissar of the XIII IB: “It has been told to me how, when they had been encircled and cut off there was no panic whatsoever, nor any case of disobeying an order. They conducted themselves with an equal parts spirit of sacrifice and discipline, as they continue to do so, as well as the soldiers of our Brigade’s other battalions. I have to specially remark the Djakovic battalion’s attitude who, despite the heavy losses suffered in the last scuttles, with intense fire from fascist artillery and aviation, maintained a dignified and heroic attitude”.

Both in this instance as in the October attack against Fuentes de Ebro, this battalion suffered many losses. Afterwards, the Dimitrov and Djakovic battalions were designated as the 45th Division’s Reserve Group. This division, from October 1937 to January 1938, remained in the Litera region as reinforcement of the first line at the Huesca front.

The 129th International Brigade

In February 1938, these two battalions, with the predominantly Czechoslovak Masaryk battalion, formed the 129th IB, in Chillón, close to Almadén. It was led by the Polish Wacław Komar [born Mendel Kossoj, known in Spain as Wacek Komar, a Jewish survivor of the Holocaust and member of the Polish Communist Party until his retirement in 1967]. In addition to these battalions, the 129th IB had at its disposal an anti-tank battery made up of Yugoslavs, a mortar company and a cavalry squadron. In late March 1938. the 129th IB was transferred to the area around Morella, where it suffered heavy losses. The fascist troops led by general Aranda and the Italian Divisions advanced with numerous human and material resources, and the three battalions suffered severe losses. To this, the errors of the Republican command must be added, despite which the volunteers fought with high valor. Finally, in the 4th of April, the 129th evacuated the fort of Morella and retreated to rebuild its forces in Benassal, northeast of Castellón.

Yugoslav volunteers of the Djakovic battalion during the strategic retreat in Teruel

Once rebuilt and rearmed (the brigade once surpassed 2000 members), it initiated a series of defensive combats in the 17th of April in the province of Teruel in the context of the battle of the Levant. The scarcely-known feat began in Ejulve, in the province of Teruel’s north. For three months, these volunteers had the leading role in a strategic retreat of 225km [139.8 miles], through the mountains of Teruel, which brought them up to the Javalambre front, passing through Mora de Rubielos. In this last front, the 129th IB kept the defense and carried out a few attacks, highlighting the 18th of September attack to take the road from Teruel to Sagunto, the last swan song of a brigade that covered itself in glory during its short 7 month lifespan.

The Yugoslav volunteers at the end of the war in Spain

The international volunteers were disbanded in the 24th of September. In the center-south area it was done 2 weeks after, in early October. Those who remained in the Catalan region were concentrated in Campdevanol, north of Ripoll. A good part of the Yugoslavs, presents in the 129th IB and the artillery units, were concentrated in the Admiral’s headquarters in Valencia. In December, they were transported to Almusafes until they were able to travel to Barcelona by boat the 20th of January.

Days later, before Barcelona’s fall and the coming republican collapse, most of the Yugoslavs offered themselves as volunteers to help in the task of preventing the fascist advance, which they did from the 26th of January until February 6th. This is how Svetsilav Dorevic told it: “The end of our fight has come, the internationals’ last compromise was to help the Spanish fellows to contain the enemy at least a little bit, so the evacuation that had to be done could be done without panic and in order, so it did not fall prey to the enemy, as well as to prevent the capture of people at risk of death”.

After, came the concentration camps in Argeles sur Mer, Saint Cyprien, Collioure, Gurs, and others. Many managed to escape, others were transferred to the French work camps, others to the French resistance, as well as the resistance in other European countries. The metallurgical worker Koturović (“Cot”), of Belgrade, was a legendary hero of the French Resistance Movement, in which Ljubomir Ilič, Vlajko Begović, and Lazar Latinović also played a marked role.

Almost 350 were able to return to Yugoslavia, of which 250 joined the partisan fight beared by Tito [Another international volunteer] and the CPY. Around 150 perished in the national liberation war from 1942 to 1945. Many of those organized insurrections, led guerrilla detachments, or were unit chiefs. Because of their merits in the fight against the fascist invaders, the Popular Hero of Yugoslavia medal was awarded to more than 50 ex-combatants of the International Brigades, amongst which were Franc Rozman, Koča Popović, Kosta Nadj, Vladimir Popović, Peko Dapčević, Iván Rukavina, Danilo Lekić, Dušan Kveder, Veljko Kovačević, Srećko Manola, Vlado Cetković, Vojo Todorović, Otmar Kreačić, and Vicko Antić. All the rest were awarded with high medals.

[stormandforge]

Raw reactions to X-Force #2

60% Sage, 40% Forge, and 100% what I want from a comic.

SPOILER warning.

Sage finding the solution, Forge saving the day. I want to live in this issue.

There’s a conscious effort to remove the big hitters from the action to let the nerds take centre stage, and I am here for it. No offence to the Betsy and Rachel fans: it’s just not every day my darlings get to shine.

Absolutely loving the dynamic between Forge and Sage. It’s everything I wanted it to be, equal and open, if cautious. Here are 2 intellectual people functioning on the same level, and my, is it hot in here? I’ve been shipping them for a while, but they work so well together on the page, I feel vindicated.

Forge has plans for Sage. See: “nothing works without Tessa” in issue #1, and the way he rushes to save her before anyone else when the jet explodes in this issue. He needs her around. I just hope it's not because he plans on sacrificing her.

New pattern detected: every significant relationship Forge has with a woman starts with her insulting him. Weirdo man.

Time to remind the world of a general rule: SAGE IS ALWAYS RIGHT.

Going into this, I was afraid Forge would become some sort of seer character, and that the tinkering would take a back seat. Boy, was I wrong. THERE IS SO MUCH TECH IN THIS. He’s still the master tinkerer I know and love, we just haven’t seen him in his workshop yet.

But we do see him abandon Sage in a hostile jungle to return to his workspace. WTH man, that's rude.

In case you're wondering: Forge is hot. Sizzling. The brains, the mystery, the shiny eyes…He can recruit me for a suicide mission any day.

I’m hoping we’ll get more concrete information about Sage’s goggles. I’m always annoyed by the glasses she wears – it’s never clear how they complement or enhance her power, or what they’re for exactly.

Did we see Forge fixing/improving Sage’s goggles by simply laying his hand on them? If yes, that’s new and that’s hot.

Forge staring into the Analog all day like it’s the ring of power or something. Hey, handsome! Look up and give us a smile!

Of course he stores the Analog in his leg. The ridiculousness of this man.

I actually cheered at the debunking of the “passive” mutation. Mutant nerds represent.

Things that happen when you write Sage in-character: she becomes SEX ON LEGS. Uber smart metaphor for autism who speaks in probabilities and foreign tongues, helloooooo

“Not ‘colonizer’. Mutant.” Ohhhh that’s a bit cringe.

Little Miss Tessa talking in the third person for some reason (there might be a reason...?)

Loving the research Thorne is putting into this. He obviously knows Wakanda, but I love that he can also justify his premise with actual back issues. Gotta love a nerd with receipts.

Speaking of receipts, I stan Sele's bluntness. 'Hi, Stranger who just saved us all. I know everything about you. Didn't you use to screw the queen? Now get off my lawn.'

“Do not finish that sentence”, lol

The duality between science and magic is obviously a crucial part of Forge’s character, even if he hasn’t touched magic in a long time now. He favours science again in this issue, but I’ll be interested to see if he can balance the two again in the future.

Keeping the Tank mystery going, I see.

Nori’s a precious jewel.

I really don’t mind the episodic approach so far, but it could get old.

The average comic book reader might want a bigger scale and more explosions. I don’t. I want more stories of Forge and Sage being their hot nerdy selves.

[thecurioustale]

I got Google's new AI toy to generate an entire podcast discussing a scene from my book.

I read with much enjoyment and pleasure of nostalebraist's recent experiences with Google's experimental new NotebookLM, which will take a piece of writing that you give it and generate an entire conversation where a pair of AI-generated hosts get into a "deep dive" discussion about it, in the style of a discussion podcast.

I listened to the "The Northern Caves" and "sufficiently advanced" podcasts and was similarly impressed at how far the mimicry of human speech patterns has come.

While it is in the experimental stage, NotebookLM is free to use. All you need is a Google account. That's a pretty low barrier to entry—and I have just enough vanity and masochism synergy to try this out for myself with my own work!

Let's do a deep dive, shall we?! =D

I had Google whip up a "deep dive" of a piece of my own writing that I shared earlier this year for the ATH 25th anniversary, a scene from The Great Galavar, set many years before ATH where a much younger Silence, new to Sele, asks Galavar for a desk and they go to Javelin's furniture shop to see about getting one. (I only fed Google this scene; not the attached scene where Javelin visits Galavar later that night.)

Here it is:

I'll start off with a complaint that spans the entirety of the podcast: I was put off by the disingenuous way that both podcast hosts acted as if they hadn't read the work under discussion and expected the other to explain it to them, because they keep switching these two hats back and forth (proving very conspicuously that they both know the work very closely), and it comes across as patronizing. I noticed, however, that I found this more off-putting with the podcasts nostalgebraist shared than with my own.

And a couple more quick complaints:

First off, there's no recognition of Silence's left-handedness, so frankly I think we can throw these toasters onto the scrap heap for another 20 years of development. 😏

(Actually, stick a pin in that; I'll come back to it later.)

Second off, I forgive these AI hosts for their horrible butchery of the pronunciation of custom names like "Terlais" and "Sele." 😭😭😭 That's understandable and not off-putting (though it does jar).

But mainly:

I am very impressed by the the AI's ability to synthesize an understanding of the material with such high fidelity and general accuracy! I think it's super cool!

While obviously this represents a major stride for AI technology, I think this is first and foremost to my own credit for writing such a coherent scene in the first place (more on that later). With my own work being analyzed, it was a lot easier for me to notice (as opposed to with nostalgebraist's podcasts) just how the AI was essentially digesting and repeating my own text back at me, occasionally literally but more often through a very basic layer of interpretation and recapitulation. For example, at the beginning they talk about how Silence has this sharp intellect and "sees right through you"; this is true and I would even call it insightful, but it's also explicitly there in the text, conveyed in different words but unmistakably the same idea. So really the AI picking up on it is just a validation that I wrote it in the first place. (More on that in a moment.) This makes the AI synthesis somewhat less impressive than it otherwise would've been, i.e. a very elaborate form of mimicry, but the absolute reading on my impress-o-meter is still very high. This is, all things considered, a fantastic level of comprehension, mistakes notwithstanding (more on those in a bit).

It was a very awkward, disorienting experience for me to hear these convincing simulacra of people earnestly discussing my work, especially with the work being a scene about Silence, which is always quite personal for me. I think, echoing nostalgebraist's thoughts, that it hits on a level that would not have been as intense / visceral for me if the exact same conversation were purely in text. But even if it were text, I definitely feel seen (in a rather uncomfortable way, like with a light that's too bright) that the AI easily picked up on the fact that this scene is all about Silence even though she's not the point-of-view character and Galavar actually has a much larger presence in the scene than the AI deep dive would have you think. The AI saw right through that.

The main complaint I gathered from nostalgebraist's reaction to the AI podcasts about his works was that the AI analysis was anodyne, superficial. I partially agree, which I'll get to. But with this criticism in mind, I thought to be on the lookout, when listening to my own AI podcast, for insights about how a more lay audience might engage with and understand my work. Are any hypothetical lay readers picking up on the main themes? Do they understand the basics of what's happening? How does my work come across to the sorts of people who listen to the kinds of podcasts that NotebookLM is simulating? That kind of thing.

I found the answer promising: Like I implied above with the AI's recapitulation of Silence's power to comprehend people's thinking and nature, if this podcast is any indication, I think my work is more readable than I have given it credit for. I don't consider this scene to be a particularly "easy" one to parse (nor particularly "hard"), but the AI did a pretty good job of it, so maybe I was underestimating a hypothetical human lay audience's ability to absorb and enjoy it as well.

I do have a complaint of my own: I was wryly amused at how the AI replicates the common practice of the male podcast host leading the discussion and doing most of the talking, with the female host providing a lot of affirmations and occasionally offering original insights with less egotistical framing. It's very subtle, and I can't rule out that it's just me being oversensitive and construing data out of noise, plus I don't listen to a ton of podcasts (especially the type of podcast that this experiment is most directly imitating), so there's that caveat too...but I still perceive it strongly enough to wonder what it's doing in there, as it's not something I would expect Google to: A) do deliberately; B) fail to notice.

Anyhow, as to the analysis being anodyne or not: Yeah...yeah, I do see it. But I'd probably look at it as an exercise in realistic expectations. What do we realistically want from an AI podcast host? To be challenged both deliberately and serendipitously with insightful perspectives and non-obvious ideas? To what extent?

To approach those questions, consider this: I mentioned earlier that you should stick a pin in the fact that the AI didn't pick up on Silence's left-handedness. That was a joke, obviously, but it touches on a point of interest for me in this experiment: All of today's big-splashy AIs work by virtue of having lots of examples of human-generated data to draw from and emulate (plus the information contained in your prompt). What happens, then, when you invite them to venture into spaces that humans rarely talk about, such as, oh, for instance, a stylish and objectively correct obsession in sinistrality?? Well, the answer seems to be that they just don't pick up on the opportunity. I'd probably have to be more pointed about Silence's handedness in the text, thereby raising left-handedness to the level of "an idea in itself," for the AI to notice it as relevant to the meaning of the text. In essence, I would conclude that uncommon ideas are nearly invisible to the AI when they are present only in the background. (Silence's left-handedness is explicitly mentioned only once, and is alluded to twice more.) This has implications about this kind of AI's ability to compose original philosophy; namely, that the AI is constrained for the most part only to repeating what we already know and connecting different things that we have already said. And I don't know if this is something fixable, because asking someone to interpret something that they don't already have good information on is an exercise in a form of intelligence that I don't know is well-suited to how these AIs work (and would thus be more likely to produce gobbledegook answers and continually infer meaning where none is intended).

So, in this one respect, I am not impressed by this AI performance, but neither am I thus surprised. I would have been shocked if they had picked up on the subject matter that is much more niche or even virtually exclusive to me.

I think perhaps the next big frontier for getting these AI "deep dives" to have more valuable (the first frontier having been developing the ability for the deep dives to be seriously attempted at all) is for AI to begin doing what humans do, plugging in life experience to connect seemingly unrelated ideas together. By my understanding this is emulable (and thus "fixable") under the current paradigm of AI, at least to some extent. I always enjoy it when some character is talking about some straightforward problem, and their mentor / advisor / parental figure / etc. starts telling this seemingly unrelated story that ends up either recapitulating the same idea in a different way (sound familiar?) or else shedding new light on the original idea through context or testimonials. I think this is something the current crop of AI could be taught to do.

This brings me to a comical moment at the end of the podcast where one of the hosts mentions that she gets "chills down [her] spine every time [she] reads it" (lol) when she gets to this point in the scene:

“Fat, eh? Not many of those around here. It’s not really an Ieikili fashion.” “Give it time!” Silence merrily exclaimed. “I will teach this whole society how to grow fat.”

CHILLS !! LOL

And the hosts go on to elaborate that it's "chilling" because with Silence there must be a double meaning to it, i.e. ambition, influence, etc. This is a very interesting take, and it's also the first of several mistakes I'm going to discuss.

The mistake is twofold. First of all, the female host calls Silence's line about teaching society how to get fat the last line of the excerpt. It's not; it's closer to the middle. I find this error fascinating because it implies the absence or failure of some kind of logical error-checking that I would have thought is trivial but which perhaps isn't. Second of all, there's no deeper meaning to Silence's vow. She just likes fat people. If there is a deeper meaning that must be forced out of it, it is an insight into Silence's multifaceted nature, as elsewhere in the scene there is so much focus on her restoring her health and vitality and mobility after a long convalescence from her prior injuries. She's all up for fitness and mobility, but she's also up for curtailing that on her own terms (as opposed to involuntarily), or having a lover do the same, when the context is right. I think this error provides insight into the kinds of calculated risks that the AI takes in order to compose its analyses. The AI is obviously not well-exposed enough to fat liberation speech in its training data to have picked up on this fat-affirming message as such; instead it drew on the imagery of growing fat as a metaphor for growing in power and influence, which is much more common in our culture—enough that the AI assumed that's what I was talking about.

So, this gets back to what I was just saying about the potential dangers of trying to force the AI to draw conclusions on ideas that it isn't well-exposed to: It'll do it wrong, both in assuming meaning where none is intended and in characterizing what that meaning is.

A second mistake that I'd like to mention is that, early in the podcast, the hosts characterize Silence as someone of "very few words," which isn't supported in the text (and if anything Silence tends to be verbose). What I think what the AI was picking up on is that Silence wasn't sharing her full thoughts with others, which is actually a really clever (and correct) reading, and somehow got from there—perhaps by way of Silence's deliberateness and her initial "passivity" in Sele during her convalescence—to the idea that she doesn't physically talk much. This is a fascinating conflation to make! I assume that what's going on here is that the AI has fitted Silence's personality type into a box, and this box potentially includes the character trait of not talking much, and the AI decided that there is enough supporting language in the scene to establish that Silence indeed doesn't talk much. No such language exists, but I see how an AI (and perhaps a human reader not familiar with Silence) might infer that it does. I'd be curious to round up some humans, make them read this scene, and ask them questions so as to implicitly invite them to say that Silence is a mate of few words without explicitly prompting them to do so. I bet you some would, even though in this very scene Silence is literally quite talky! Because it's easy to compartmentalize those things, I think: Silence's actual talkativeness, and her personality traits which might imply that she is not talkative.

A third mistake, which is, again, wrong in an interesting way is that there is a very clear up-front statement by the male host that Silence "is a woman," with emphatic tone on those words. This isn't the end of the sentence. He pauses, and there is some reaction from the female host, and then he finishes his thought: "...of few words." So, this is mistake not only because of the "of few words" part but also because of the "is a woman" part. I go out of my way to characterize Silence as near to genderless as possible, and while this doesn't apply to physical sex (she is female-bodied) there also isn't any discussion of that in the scene; so the AIs are drawing this purely from her pronouns, the discussion of conation (mindwashing / "mental merging" as the AI aptly puts it), and the clarification that Silence and Galavar are not bonking.

I wouldn't necessarily bother to call it out (I don't expect AI to use my paradigm of sex and gender), except that the way the host delivers his distance really emphasis the "is a woman" words, and I think that's deliberate; I think it's a very clever thing the AI is doing, piggybacking on a separate idea (about Silence not talking much) to insinuate without immediately mentioning it that there are sexual tensions in the scene. Now, it's wrong; there is no sexual tension—not between Silence and Galavar anyway. (And the AI elsewhere allows that the source material is vague on this point; I would say, from reading this scene in isolation, that that's fair.) But in fact this is the scene that woke me up to the fact that there can't be sexual tension between Silence and Galavar, at least not in the past, because she's still practically a goddamn kid when she kids to Sele, and Galavar is early middle-aged. I had never wrapped my head around that until I was laying out this scene in my thirties and realized that it'd be gross. So I wrote this scene with no sexual tension between them at all; the fact that Javelin originally mistakes Silence as a lover of Galavar before actually meeting her in person is part of the verismilitude of Javelin. But I can see how an AI without knowledge of any of these characters' histories outside this one scene might take the mistaken perception by Javelin as a positive indicator of a relationship between Silence and Galavar. So, again, I think we are seeing some of the limitations on this type of AI. In the grand scheme of things, many human storytellers would have sexual tension in a situation like this. And I think the AI failed to see that there wasn't any, or at least wasn't able to make up its mind.

I actually like this failsafe. The podcast hosts mentioned several times that the source material is unclear or vague, which makes it a lot safer for them to speculate. That, in my opinion, is a really solid implementation by Google of a way to lampshade the AI's risky assumptions to the end user. This way, if the podcast hosts go barking up the wrong tree at least they will appear to be doing it honestly, based on the text's own ambiguity. And I think all the instances where the hosts invoked this failure are justifiable instances, even if they aren't necessarily correct that the text is in fact ambiguous.

Another mistake, and one that's a lot more disappointing for technology which is otherwise getting so impressive, is that the hosts misgender Javelin later in the podcast after originally getting it right. (Editor's note: Actually I am not sure that they gender her correctly in the first place. I've listened to this thing so many times in the course of writing this that I'm not up for going through it again, so take the following with an asterisk.) I suppose this too is a reflection of how the AI actually weaves its stories: To them, the "Javelin" mentioned at any one moment in their podcast isn't necessarily the Javelin mentioned at any other moment. The AI''s persistent understanding of, for instance, the City of Sele as the setting for this scene does not imply a comprehension of what "the City of Sele" is but rather that it would be appropriate to mention a thing which is probably called the City of Sele in various instances where our human minds would in fact agree that it is appropriate.

A very understandable mistake is that the hosts infer that Silence's choice of the word "secretary" has some special meaning that goes beyond the actual meaning. (She chooses the word, having only recently become proficient in the Selish language, because of its relationship with "secrets.") The AI hosts are wrong in their speculation but they're right to be sniffing something there. (It is, after all, the title of the excerpt.) And you kind of need to have the other scene, with Galavar and Javelin that evening, to better understand why it's the title, and so I don't hold it against the AI for falling short here. I do like that they tried to mention it at all; I think they would have been remiss not to.

A final mistake that I'll mention is that, when talking about Silence's new immersion in Sele after having lived in Junction City, the hosts did indeed take an incredibly anodyne route of characterizing this discontinuity. I found that line of discourse to be very underwhelming. And it rises to the level of a mistake because it is not correct. Silence's adjustment to Sele is not complicated all that much by her past life in Junction City. That's just plausible-sounding tripe; it's not analytical at all.

There are plenty more mistakes, of course, but, moving on from mistakes to talk about specific praises, I really like how the AI hosts were able to pick up on the fact that Silence's behavior in this scene is all about her trying to prove herself. It is specifically stated in the text (albeit in a narrower sense, referring only to Silence's newly restored ability to walk partway across the city), so I'm not surprised that the AI picked up on it, but I'm glad that it did. That smacks of good design to me. It's a very important detail. And, assuming Google put its "top men" on the case for making these deep dives as compelling as the technology (and the company's contortions to avoid getting sued) presently allow, I would be inclined to consider the successful identification of this point as important to be a high-quality indicator that their efforts were constructive.

But, of course, this is the same tech that I found so underwhelming in the previous paragraph, so...you know. You win some; you lose some.

Another praise is that I appreciate the hosts for being gentle with me in describing "Silence's almost superhuman level of perception." It was equally within Google's power to invent an AI podcast host duo that will just absolutely trash you and roast you and make fun of you instead of acting like your work is the most interesting composition they've seen all year. Silence's capabilities are definitely possible, and I would even argue plausible, but I fully grant she is performing way above your average schlub. A character like her may not defy belief, but she strains likelihood. So I think it's fair and probably even authentic for the hosts to point out that she's "almost superhuman." I think not mentioning it at all would be a mistake. Silence is not just making power plays; she's an extremely competent person making power plays.

Anyway! Let me go back to something I said earlier that I said I would get back to:

I think this is first and foremost to my own credit for writing such a coherent scene in the first place

It occurred to me, even before generating this deep dive podcast, that I would like to feed the AI a scene that is much more difficult to parse, and see what that "deep dive" looks like.

So join me later when I do that. But for now, I think this is a good place to end it.

[boboteam]

This may contain Saha and Rebirth arc spoilers as well as the Day of Transcending Finality arc, read w caution!

This is a very sudden thing to post at 3am but am I the only one to genuinely feel surprised when people say that Senti's writing is "nulled down to a point of comedy relief"? There is a clear difference between just a comedy relief character who has no specific lore or traits, worries assigned to them / their lore is completely ignored in the story, and a character who is a comedy relief one BUT they still have unique traits and even worries shown throughout their actions and words. And Senti is EXACTLY that.

Take even the Saha and Rebirth arc. God did she make some of the moments in the chapter the funniest (but damn it was so needed throughout all the stress built up tbh) and not to mention the fact just how much of an impact she made on the story. Sure, she may not have done something outright crazy good, but as some examples :

She DID help with the connecting the anchor points bullshit, SHE was the one to actually head-on transfer Vita to her sentience space and launch a technical counter-attack on her, ALSO delaying Vita??? Sure it may not have changed that much but the fact itself?? Also the fact that she was the one to comfort Veliona when she was worried about Selee even willing to go to such lenghts as telling her the technical "limit" of sentience?

And if we talk about worries, do you not also see through the fact that she is genuinely worried about Hua during the arc? The fact that she pretends not to care yet she still helps others throughout the arc? And are we NOT going to talk about the moment when she technically finally got her own body? I think it's goddamn UNDERAPPRECIATED because she had been dealing with an existential crisis for so long, and despite not seeming to care as much anymore and moving on, she still had an internal conflict as literally described in the chapter. With herself. There has been a lot of metaphors and it's so mind blowing. And I quote :

You saw "you" being eaten away by the void that symbolized death. You saw "your" efforts destroyed by the light that obliterated all things. You saw "you" sunk into the darkness untill you heard rain.

Then who am "I" now?

End quote.

Is that not literal self conflict to you?? It is both describing the process of technical "revival" from Selee's power, AND Senti's conflicting thoughts. This was such a big moment to me that I almost cried?? And YET

She still made the arc funny, she still had a lot of moments where her comedic side shined, god there is even something funny about being so self-righteous and (although only seemingly, sometimes) sure of herself. Even during the fighting. Even during the explanation of all the difficult stuff from the arc. Even the "all hail the Herrscher of Sentience!" moment. Yet this arc balances all the worries and topics of hers pretty much perfectly.

That is without even covering THE FINALITY ARC which honestly the fight with Kiana LITERALLY speaks for itself, girl had so much piled up on her mind since that battle methinks. And we won't even mention the Kevin fight and just HOW MUCH she helped and to WHAT LENGHTS she would go. The talk they had during AND AFTER the fight is so. How could you ignore it. She def wasn't just a comedy relief in that arc despite still being VERY funny here and there.

And I am not going to talk about how she manages to seem to have worries even in the goofy shenzhou spring festival, with basically her just wanting recognition but ending up in a misunderstanding and then giving everyone a chance to enjoy a good festival, although it might seem like a far strectch which I would aggree on.

But yeah. I had to ramble. Thanks to anyone who decided to read this! Feel free to share any thoughts or correct me <3

[seleswrites]

not quite what she seems | Ariadne/Mal Cobb | 458 words | find on AO3

“You can’t still be mad at me,” Ariadne says, watching Mal ignore her as the older woman puts away groceries in their tiny kitchen.

Fandom: Inception Relationship: Ariadne/Mal (established) Rating: Teen Tags: AU, surreal, mild violence (as a just in case) Wrote for: @inceptiontrick-or-treat 2022! Buckets: Bucket 2 - AU, Bucket 6 - Angst, Bucket 9 - Halloween/Spooky Photo credit: Tina Dawson on Unsplash

The soft clatter of keys scratched against the fake wood of the tiny kitchen’s countertops. Thumps followed: one from a dark hickory leather messenger bag hitting the kitchen table and two quick bumps from the fabric bags of groceries. Mal leaned back against the table, its edge digging against the palms of her hands as she rolled her head back, a heavy sigh escaping from her dark plum painted lips.

“Long day?” 

Mal’s brown eyes darted to the corner of the kitchen where a tiny woman sat upon the countertops. Ariadne kicked her legs in the air, bare heels hitting the cabinet underneath in a soft tap-tap-tap, and smiled softly as Mal watched her for a second much too long. 

Ignoring Ariadne’s question, Mal straightened herself up by pushing off the surface and busied herself by sorting through her groceries, putting them in their proper places quickly. 

Tap-tap. Tap-tap.

The fabric bags got hooked on the pantry door; the messenger bag slipped into one of two chairs. 

Tap-tap. Tap-tap.

A baguette loaf sat on the counter, left behind alongside a glass jar of local honey, a lemon, and a package of salmon fillets. Mal returned to set down a chilled wine bottle, a stick of half used butter, and a plastic carton of fromage frais. A bread knife, two spoons, and a wine glass clatter nearby. 

Tap-tap. Tap-tap.

She filled the glass goblet halfway with a sparkling white wine, its light cream-colored bubbles tickling the sides of the glass before Mal lifted the fizzling liquid to her lips. 

Tap-tap. Tap-tap.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Ariadne asked, waiting until Mal had set down her glass and swung open a nearby cabinet door to pull out a pan beside swinging legs. As if unheard, Mal stood back up, closing the wooden door and setting the pan on the stovetop. It clattered against the hard surface; its ring echoing minutely in Mal’s ears. 

The younger woman sighed.

Tap-tap. Tap-tap. “You can’t still be mad at me.” 

Mal took another sip of her wine. She sat down the empty glass only after she ignored a, “Come on, talk to me,” from the corner. 

Refilling her glass, Mal whispered, “Stop.” 

“Mallorie--” 

“Stop it!” The bread knife jumped in her hand and Mal rushed to the corner where Ariadne sat, striking down at her former lover. 

But Ariadne was no longer there. 

Mal stared down at where the knife stuck into the wood. Her chest rose and fell rapidly in a barely contained panic. Seconds dragged into minutes, before she pulled out the knife. She ran a finger over another groove left into the wood. 

“Stop it,” her voice shook as she talked to herself. “Stay only in my mind. You don’t exist anymore…” 

[wildbasil]

"And when she is shining o'er hill and heath, I dance in the revels of Gwyn ap Nudd."

You know what I love? The Victorian (and early 20th century) obsession with Gwyn ap Nudd. It's absolutely WILD and I promise I'll write a real post with sources soon. For now, here are some highlights of things Victorians have written about him:

He's a small and silly fellow! Ohohoh!

He was rather fond of Gawain… until he wasn't.

He's definitely Melwas/Hades/Sir Guyon/Oberon. Actually, he's every fairy king ever. 

He's closely connected to Neath, to Pumlumon, to the Berwyn mountains, to Blaenau Gwent, and more (yeah, they looked for him everywhere)

He's a demon of the abyss. Also a lord of glamour and a god of fertility/darkness/the unknown.

A fertility god, you ask? With no kids? But aha! Hywel Sele, who haunts the Nannau Oak, was apparently his son.

And my absolute favourite: on Hallowe'en, when he's not off hunting with his musically skilled but ultimately ill-fated companion, Iolo ap Huw, you can find Nudd's fearsome and enigmatic son tapping at your windows, asking for potatoes.

OK, those are just from memory. There's so much more. I need to know, though… Gwyn, what happened to you between 1830-1930? Are you OK now? How would you like your potatoes cooked?

Anyway, to conclude:

(from a 1930s newspaper and completely unrelated to Gwyn ap Nudd. But I stumbled upon it and it made me giggle 😎👍)

[hurtcomfort-bingo]

Last Updated: June 21, 2024 Fulfilled Requests: 40 In Progress: 0 Total Requests: 43 (0 - HCB; 43 - PYP)

Hurt & Comfort Bingo:

Sign-Ups open again around June 23 to June 29, and will close on August 09!

Pick Your Poison (Mini Event):

Sign-Ups open on June 11, and will close on June 25!

aspen | blackwood4stucky, Vesper, prettysophist, Idabbleincrazy, wolfish_willow, thefrailtyofgenius, SubukuNoJess, unfortunate-beetle-and-friends, cywscross, Zombified_Queer

Xenomorphic, lillyrosenight, Lupi, nicky-gabriel, Akinasky, Hadrian, Sivan325, writtenwordsaloud, endlesstwanted, Teine-Mallaichte

foxywrites, seles, howtowhumpyourhiccup, flicka_okeeffee, sky-neverending, The_narwhals_awaken, 42donotpanic, impossiblepluto, there-will-always-be-blood, grovestep, sweetpeapod, Cail_Jei, goulloyne, Sunflower--me, FadingDreamscape, Maraudersaffair, Diana47, spn-fanfic-reblog-writes, Nixie

Nekoannie-chan, SybilEvergreen, rpfindingblog

[likes-words-and-shrimp]

my brain after writing that Seles and Colette fic now wants to write about Mithos threatening Zelos with his sister's life. Sabotage the Chosen group even more, or kill one of the party members to do so, or Seles will die. Maybe Mithos says for him to kill that ninja from Mizuho, and Zelos tries to resist. But also, his sister's life is on the line.

Tragic sheelos fic?? Maybe Sheena finds out and Zelos is finally put to the test to get rid of her? But then....he can't.

Throwing ideas at the wall but it's been a long time since I wrote any sheelos...

[alarrytale]

Meanwhile the others were held back, burdened with false unfavourable images and had to claw their way out of the ditch. They weren't given the same chance to shine, because Sony though there could only be one successful star out of 1D. They also held the others back to have everyone's focus on H. ///

Liam had David Beckham's manager and a great deal with UMG. Nobody was telling him he couldn't make it because he has an excellent voice. Capitol Records was delighted to sign Niall and gave him the same opportunities Harry had. Straight into touring, first to release a single. Nobody told Niall he couldn't make it and RCA certainly didn't tell Zayn that either. When he was signed the CEO called him an 'icon' and his first single was more successful than SOTT.

Only Louis was told by the music press that he wouldn't have a solo career but that was based on his shaky vocals. If the industry really thought he had no chance nobody would have signed him.

Hi, anon!

I'm not saying they weren't given a shot at success. They all were, despite the odds. They were all from a very successful band, were talented, lovely boys and with huge fanbase backing. Of course other labels would jump on that, there were money to be made on them. But the other four boys didn’t have the perfectly curated image, the international recognisable face and notoriety, preperation time nor the billion dollar label deal. They were all fortunate to sign good-ish label deals, but had to rebrand to fix their images (as well as they could, Sony still controls it). They also needed to compete against each other because they didn’t have gp recognition like H had.

Imagine how different things would be if Zayn was the one tasked with dating TS to help 1D break America, or if Louis was the one in the BBC deal with Nick Grimshaw, or if Niall was the one to attend fashion shows, if H was made to date E and Liam dated Kendall Jenner. Sony gave all this to Harry so that he'd be ready to go solo after 1D.

Liam got Beckham's manager who'd never managed a music artist before, only sport stars. It showed. Liam also brought with him an image of people's least favourite member, with an addiction due to the way they were treated in the band, and little name recognition in the US. The label and management struggled to create an image for him and find a fitting sound that the fans responded well to. Remember the payne chain era? The controversy around his bi song? It showed inexperience and lack of understanding of trends and fandom by both label and management.

Niall got a good deal but he was still stuck with Mo*est who was hated by the entire fandom. He was able to successfully rebrand, because his previous image wasn't in tatters. He got rid of the blond hair, dressed better and found his sound pretty quick. He's dated/been linked to other celebrities and gotten his name out there like Pal*in. Hail*e and Sele*a, and he's "bff"'s with Shawn. He's also been a judge on the voice that have exposed him to american audiences. He still haven't been given the opportunities that H has. He wasn't hung from a helicopter in his first music video. He isn't writing songs with max martin. He's on a budget.

Zayn jumped ship and had a really good start to his solo career. That song is a banger. Turned out his time in 1D was traumatic enough that he'd gotten anxiety and adopted some not good coping mechanisms that hindered his career developement. I think he was tired of fame and his fake mysterious image and needed time out of the spotlight. He needed to prioritise himself and his mental health.

I've discussed Louis so many times, that i won't repeat myself and we all know what he's been through and is still going through.