#the image limit is my mortal enemy

[froggyrights]

Dream & Undertale

[goreforum]

like no other to you, what you've done you cannot undo

[etherfabric]

Compliments from Spirit - What are you doing right?

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

You are the ultimate authority over your life. I merely provide my perspective. Sometimes the Universe lines you up with something that doesn't resonate with your truth, so you have contrast to find out what does. Never give away your power.

Pile 1

4 of Swords, 4 of Cups, The Magician

Spirit is complimenting you on your restraint and how well you center yourself. You learned your lessons around excessive, fear-fueled activity, how it wears you down without any payoff, and you take those lessons to heart. Your body's need to rest has become your wise friend and guide to consider, instead of your mortal enemy to defeat. You thank your emotions for telling you where you strayed from your authentic path, you honor the little pains and stings along the way just as much as the pleasant surprises. It's like in an airplane, where in an emergency, the little lights left and right on the ground lead you to the nearest exit back to safety when you can't see otherwise. Your symptoms are your loyal companions you are listening to with patience and intent. You are not rushing yourself anymore to an unobtainable future, you are honoring what you already have and don't fall for FOMO.

What is truly yours won't want you to strain and hurt yourself. What is truly yours loves you and has no problem waiting for you.

This approach gives you authentic, reliable bouts of energy you can channel towards what is truly important to you. It's marvelous how little effort compared to the past now yields these beautiful results that seemed so far out of your reach. You feel empowered and have found a new sense of patience with yourself and the Universe at large. You recognize your own struggles in others, and know that their limits are not meant as a personal insult. They are on their own path to their true calling just as you are, and Spirit can see the compassion you have for them. Continue seeing the big picture and your part in it. Time is on your side. The Universe likes your new, slow, conscious approach, and is happy that you have found the wisdom in your limits; that they were your private teachers all along.

Pile 2

Strength, 2 of Wands, The World

You have found a whole new level of self love. Things that used to make you cringe are seen in a completely different light - you see your good intentions, and that most of the times, it is other people's opinions you internalized that you feel when expressing yourself. And even if you come to your own conclusion on how you want to change certain aspects - you don't use these discoveries as a stick to beat you with anymore. You have developed a profound capacity for self compassion. You see your desperate needs no one felt responsible for in the past, how hard you had to try because nothing was given freely where you come from. Okay, yeah, you exposed things you wouldn't expose in the same context today. But now you can thank yourself for it, because you see how it was the only option back then with what you had and knew. And it was good enough to eventually get you here.

You were desperate to find connection, friends, someone who cares for you. You offered all these things so they could pick and choose where to connect to you. You are a generous, love-oriented being, always have been. The judgements others places on your past and present behaviors come from a limited, competitive point of view you can no longer hold without feeling the unnecessary pain of it. It just feels disingenuous towards yourself. You know too much about where you come from and who you are because of it, what drives you, what you are looking for in life, to mindlessly punish yourself with these false accusations.

You send the shame back to where it came from, and are free to give yourself the love you crave and deserve.

You dared to look inwards, despite all the shame. You thought you would find a hideous monster, a waste of every resource ever coming their way - and found a being of light. Capable of so much goodness to give, the only sensible conclusion is to provide them with everything they need, and foster relationships with only likeminded supporters. I mean, it's a true miracle. In the past there was really no one around who took you as part of themselves, who considered your best interests just as important as theirs - and now look where you are! Who you are with! How peaceful and exciting, and liveable this life has become. Spirit couldn't be prouder. So much more is waiting for you. The hard part is definitely over.

Pile 3

10 of Cups, The Empress, 3 of Wands

Spirit compliments you on your willingness to receive. Gone are the days of guilt tripping yourself over morsels. Now you feast, daily. This routine allows you to live in a perpetual cycle of abundance. You feel good, because you go after what you know you deserve. And you go after what you deserve, because you know it makes you feel good. You no longer hold yourself up with questions whether to go after comfy OR practical - you know which way you can get both. And most important of all: You stopped making yourself smaller than you actually are supposed to be. All your needs and wants come from a sacred place, and you have seen it for yourself.

This brings great relief to your interpersonal relationships. Your clean conscience translates into generosity and letting miniscule hiccups slide with ease. Remember how tiny mistakes used to trip you up for days on end? Now you don't even need seconds to process them as the background noise they always wanted to be. You know what truly matters and don't let yourself get confused by smoke screens. People either mean it, or they can fuck right off. Those who mean it bask in your warmth, and those who don't just aren't getting invited to the party that is your life now. And boy, do you know how to host.

The people around you feel like on a constant vacation with you. Comfort and fun are sacred priorities, and everybody is important.

They can contribute their perspective in an environment of trust and good faith. Your spontaneity is met with keen support, and fate plays just the right song to elevate the atmosphere even further. Continue getting a full plate everyday, there will always be more where that came from. As long as you don't let your impostor syndrome get the better of you, I don't see an end to this joyride for quite some time.

Pile 4

The Fool, Queen of Wands, Seven of Cups, The Hanged Man

Spirit is complimenting you on your masterful ability to adapt. Like a surfer, you read the currents of life flowing in and around you with expertise and diligence. You know some days the ocean won't bring you anything exciting, and muddy waters might not be the best to dive through, but you got time and can wait. You know the mud holds important nutrients that need to find their way in their own time. Just like when your head is full of random thoughts you can't seem to channel into anything useful - you know how to embrace it, rather than fight against it and stir up the water even further.

Now you have the confidence to know when to do nothing at all. And suddenly, the mud settles back at the ground, and you are free to dive right in. The most subtle changes can't slip past your perception, and you know which waves you can use to your advantage, and which ones would just drag you down without any mercy. Your confidence in your skills lets you marvel at the forces from a safe distance rather than cower in paralyzing fear.

What used to feel like cruel randomness, now reveals itself as divine orchestration. And all you had to change was your perspective.

Even your darkest times of despair have finally told you their secret: They are the soil you are growing on. The fallen leaves of past hopes and dreams are the soil for what is real now. The destruction of the past turned out to be a vital step in the recipe. Like Rumi said, the wound is where the light enters you. Now, when you are faced with a so-called dark aspect of life, you are alread curious how and when the benefit of it will come into your reality. It doesn't erase the pain, but you don't even want that anymore. It tells a story that makes you glad to be alive, rather than feeling like a victim to your own birth. It makes you want to see how it will turn out, rahter than checking out prematurely. What a marvelous, marvelous development. Spirit is so glad you are still here.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

oooh I got one! prompt 74 with any of the follower!bishops, where they get hurt on a crusade and reader, who is a healer finds them and helps them <333

74) "I think I broke my leg!"

.......

"I can't believe this...betrayed by my own-!!"

"Lord Kallamar?"

Surprised by the voice, Kallamar looked up at you, the figure dressed in white tattered robes, clean of any and all ichor. The metal halo behind your head reflected the sunlight from above Anchordeep, making it seem as though it were glowing.

Now he remembers.

You're one of the many nameless Healers in his former army of cultists and devotees. He thought most of them were culled by the Lamb at this point, yet you were somehow still alive.

"You have returned to us in such a miniscule form." You mused, to which you saw him tense up, trying to shuffle away.

So far, every creature here was trying to kill him during his crusade, and he wasn't sure if you were going to be any different.

He knew should've gone to the tailor first; at least they wouldn't attack him on-sight just because his red robes remind them of the Lamb..and that his defeat permanently shattered his image as a leader.

"Back away from me! I'm---ow!!!" Feeling a sudden sharp pain in one of his legs, Kallamar stopped moving and looked down, realizing it didn't look quite right. "Ah...a-ahaha...I-I think I broke my leg...!"

"Do not fear, my lord. I will make it all better." Floating down to the ground, you gently reached your hands out to him, green magic appearing from your fingertips. "How did this happen, if I may ask?"

"Well..I fell.." He mumbled quietly, and you looked at him, mishearing him.

"What happened?"

"I-I fell while fleeing from one of those sea creatures..." Red dusted his face as he averted his gaze, embarrassed to be seen like this--especially by someone he used to rule over.

But you seemed to show absolutely no bias nor resentment towards him, even though he now wore the same robes of the enemy cult.

Part of him was afraid you'd refuse and leave him to suffer on his own, although he remembers that your singular job is to be a healer. And despite knowing that he wasn't some all-powerful god anymore and allowed himself to be beaten by Lamb into submission...you wanted to help him anyways. You didn't huff or laugh or show any indication that you thought of him as pathetic for breaking his leg over a simple fall.

Instead, you quietly allowed your magic to go to work, mending the broken done and repairing the torn flesh. Soon it set itself back into place without causing him further pain, making it good as new.

Like nothing even happened.

"You should be good now, my lord. Do be careful with your new mortal vessel." Bowing your head, you rose to your feet and watched as Kallamar slowly got up.

"Only now I see how fragile this body is..damned Lamb.." He grunted, checking out his leg before picking up his backpack. Then he gazed up at you. "What's your name?"

You blinked. "My name..?"

"Yes, that's what I said. I never knew your name, but I wanna know it now."

"I see, then...I'm [y/n]." You answered, surprised and flattered that he asked.

It's been so long since you've said your name to anyone, that you've almost forgotten it entirely.

"Well, [y/n]..would you care to accompany me for the remainder of my crusade? I was sent to retrieve as many crystal shards as I could carry...but I keep running into dead ends, and death traps.." Kallamar shuddered. "And I-"

"You needn't worry, my lord. I would be happy to join you." Although he couldn't see your smile under your hood, he could hear the delight in your voice, and chuffed.

Why were you so kind to him? Why did you treat him as though he was still your ruler?

"None of this bothers you at all?" He vaguely gestured to himself. "You don't see me as your "enemy"?"

"I only see the injured and the sick, and I heal them." You assured him, chuckling softly. "Do not fret. It matters not what form you take or how limited it is, my lord-"

"Okay, I'm not your "lord" anymore. Just Kallamar is fine."

"...very well, Kallamar. Then let us go. I know a safe path."

[bonefall]

but what makes characters like fallenleaf and bb!brokenstar redeemable?

Choice. They were stripped of their power, put through extreme circumstances, and then made the choice to leave their violent histories behind them.

And you will note that it's VERY rare that I show these types of characters being redeemed. There's two 'redemptions' in a very long history of tyrants. Tigerstar, Dalestar, Skystar, Ashfur, Darktail, One Eye, Leopardstar, Mudclaw, Thistlestar technically if he had become leader. 2 out of 10 is a very small ratio.

(and fallenleaf isn't really 'redeemed' in my mind, so much as she simply stopped being a tyrant. There is no way for her to ever make up for what she did and that is a part of her character.)

And of them, Skystar is the worst individual. By far. He has no reason to want to change, nor would he ever. He loves power too much. He would look for it anywhere he went, because he hates listening to anyone tell him what to do. Having this is important to him than anything.

BB!Brokenstar is so different he's not a great comparison to Skystar, imo. He's a protector spirit, the embodiment of SkyClan's fallen 5th oak tree, and basically the logical conclusion of the "might makes right" mindset that defines Clan Culture in his era. So his redemption in finding his place as SkyClan's guardian is basically about "righting a cosmic wrong," and putting the magic to rest in its rightful place.

Brokey's a mortal when he takes the shape of one, but the story I'm trying to tell with him is that fury, righteous love, and protectiveness have their place. He comes to understand that as he watches SkyClan form, and realize that no matter how different they are from the toxic culture he was born into and molded by, he loves them, and he needs them to become what they want to be.

THIS is what that fury is for. To kill the rats and defend the besieged Clan, so they can live freely while he slumbers.

Fallenleaf's a better comparison. Both she and Skystar wanted to forcefully remake society in their own images, and would brutalize anyone who didn't live up to their strict standards.

(contrast to BB!Brokenstar who strategically took out only two cats. Raggedstar and Marigoldkit. He actually limited violence against his own Clan.)

But Fallenleaf and Skystar are very different people. Fallenleaf did what she did out of strict, obsessive dedication to the Code. She was fueled by what she'd been taught by Bramblestar, allowing Ashfur to physically abuse Lionpaw "for his own good." That you have to hurt what you love to protect it.

Still; I very much made it intentional that her punishment is SO harsh. The Lake cats HATED her. She ruined everything and she knows it. Sol gets bored of her, steals her body, and leaves her stranded 100 years in the past. She's forced to stay in those tunnels and cling to the mortal plane, just thinking about her family to keep her tethered, as civilizations rise and fall outside.

Now back in her home, she's almost unrecognizable. She's traveled so far and lost so much, and been forced to sit with her shame for a very long time. Not even StarClan is old enough to remember her crimes; and it's she alone who carries that burden. It's a weight she chooses to carry, to remind her of the worst version of herself. Something she could become again, if she isn't careful.

BB!Skystar's a venerated founder.

Nearly everything he did in life was to serve his own ends, his own ego, and he's lauded for that. His followers ate up his excuses like slop. He built the battle culture the Clans would come to know, by making a move to crush anything that mildly offended him

Of course he's not going to regret shit. Power gets him everything he wants. He's got a circling entourage of sycophants to tell him how smart and strong he is all the time, droves of warriors who pray to him for strength in battle, all of his enemies in life are now forced to treat him like a god-among-gods in heaven. And this is exactly the way he likes it.

Man got away with it, over and over. He collects his reward every starry night.

Any time where he WOULD be threatened with having his power taken away, he would simply gaslight/gatekeep/girlboss his way back to the top. What? You gonna stop him? He will kill you and then frame your murder like a grand triumph over the Great Unfairness of the world. He has the most prey in the forest. He has the strongest cats in the land. What are you, to him, besides an angry squirrel chattering atop the branch?

Why would he ever choose to be different? He wouldn't. Power gets him what he wants, and he loves getting what he wants.

[reverieparacosm]

Could i perhaps request what it would be like to be in a relationship with the witch-king during his reign of Angmar? F!Reader please! (Also hello hope you are well!)

Headcanons what it would be like to be in a relationship with the Witch-King of Angmar

Witch-King of Angmar (Lord of the Rings) x F!Reader

Warnings: manipulative behavior, toxic relationship, possessive behaviors, worshipping

Note: Hiii! I am fine. :D I am happy that someone finally wants a Witch-King fanfic! There are not enough fanfics about him! :3

Living in Angmar, you would be surrounded by a desolate and barren landscape. The realm itself reflects the Witch-King's malevolent influence, adding to the overall sense of despair and hopelessness

You become a source of light and hope for the Witch-King

You see beyond his dark exterior and recognize the flicker of humanity that still resides within him. Your presence challenges his beliefs and makes him question his allegiance to Sauron

"You are mine, body and soul. No one else shall lay claim to what belongs to me."

His possessive and manipulative nature would drive him to do anything to have you and keep you away from others

You would be the first person to evoke unfamiliar emotions within him, and he would be determined not to let you slip away easily

The Witch-King has high expectations regarding your appearance in public. He will not tolerate you dressing like a slob, and he will react strongly if you challenge him on this matter

Prepare to be lavished with an extravagant amount of jewelry. The Witch-King will spare no expense in adorning you with opulent accessories

He would give you your own servants

His love language for him can be quality time together, although sometimes he can leave his comfort zone and be affectionate with physical contact

Despite the darkness that surrounds him, the Witch-King has an insatiable desire to make you happy

"In my arms, you shall find ecstasy that transcends the mortal realm. I will show you pleasures beyond your wildest imagination."

He may go to great lengths to fulfill your desires and shower you with extravagant gifts and grand gestures

He treats you like an absolute Queen

Living with the Witch-King would likely require you to isolate yourself from the outside world

Your relationship would need to be kept secret, and your interactions with others would be limited to ensure your safety and the preservation of the Witch-King's image

The halls of Angmar would be populated by monsters, serving as the Witch-King's loyal minions. These monsters would add to the sense of dread and foreboding within the realm

Being in a relationship with the Witch-King would expose you to constant fear and danger. His enemies would view you as a potential weakness to exploit, making you a target for their attacks

A deep sense of loyalty binds you to the Witch-King. Despite the challenges and dangers, you find yourself drawn to him, captivated by his enigmatic presence and the intensity of your connection

He is quite interested in what you like, and he is willing to learn things you like just for the fun of it

Occasionally, he may refer to you as his pet. However, it is crucial to note that anyone else who dares to use that term in reference to you will face a painful death

"My love for you is an eternal flame, burning brighter with each passing moment. No distance or obstacle can extinguish it."

Having the Witch-King as your protector ensures that no one with a functioning brain would dare to mess with you. The mere thought of crossing him fills people with unimaginable fear, and some individuals are even afraid to look in your direction due to the consequences they may face

He becomes fiercely protective of you, willing to defy Sauron's orders to keep you safe

Sauron would be jealous of the Witch-King's divided attention and suspicious of your influence on his most trusted servant. He would closely monitor your interactions, trying to discern any signs of disloyalty or betrayal

"I am the shadow that protects you, my love. With a single command, I can bring kingdoms to their knees and shape the world to our whims."

[lukedanger]

Day 18 - Compromise

A little late for @owlcatober, but better than never, right?

[Ao3 Link]

====

In some ways, being a god was not so different from being a mortal.

Iomedae grimaced as she looked at the map of the Worldwound and the regions around it again, updated before her eyes as she could watch the individual battles waged. Even if gods did not need such tools to be aware, it was still useful when interacting with their heralds or other servitors. Watching worlds turn onwards, all to try and figure out how best to aid those under her charge within the limits placed on her.

And as she watched the triumph of Drezen, the culmination of fate, opportunity, and no shortage of mortal courage, she should have been happy. The demons had been thwarted at Kenabres, and having lost so many fighters while the main crusader army was unmolested they had been vulnerable. Queen Galfrey had seen the opportunity, and committed everything she had to it - even her own power as she elevated a new Knight-Commander.

It was the exact kind of thing that Iomedae herself had prayed for as a mortal, when she had ruled a besieged Kantaria. For the enemy to overcommit, be broken, and then to exploit it to put them on the defensive. To take the initiative from them. Yet now, in Aroden’s position, she felt only frustration.

After all, as she looked at the Knight-Commander, she saw what her mortal followers had done. She had heard their thankful prayers for deliverance at long last, and the questions of those who wondered what took so long… or the one mortal who should have been her chosen, had Iomedae chosen someone at all. It was a surprise for her.

After all, she only knew Knight-Commander Elaina as one of her paladins, no different than Irabeth Tirabade whose valor, leadership, and ability to organize chaos had rallied Kenabres’ defenders to give her supposed chosen the chance to save the Wardstones. No different than Seelah, that rising errant who if Iomedae was to be objective could have easily filled the same role. If anything, Iomedae would have chosen Galfrey: the queen for a century who had sacrificed her own mortality long past the point she should have been able to pass the duty on, who had been praying for any guidance on what to do beyond ‘hold the line’.

Someone else had created a false chosen, and she was at a loss as to who had done so. Yet, it had delivered the first genuine victories over the Worldwound’s hordes in many years.

It never should have come to this. And she still wondered if it was her fault that things had degraded so far. She should have been able to figure out something better than the Wardstones. They should not have had to wait for circumstance to finally work in their favor.

“We gave them the tools they needed. It is not your fault that they cannot use them.”

Iomedae looked up at the armored dwarf standing at the door, gilded plating over his red blacksmiths’ apron and clothes. Torag, ever punctual, was early to the strategy meeting.

“You know better than me that demons are a far different beast than orcs.”

Torag grimaced at the snapped rebuttal, but did not immediately answer as he walked towards his spot at the map and summoned an image that Iomedae had been focusing on.

“This is true,” he finally conceded as he looked at the new Knight-Commander. “What is your plan, then?”

“That is where I am at an impasse. I should tell her the truth, even if privately. The Hand has already asked that I clarify the situation, and he will not wait to seek out Lariel’s sword. I will have no better chance.”

“So why not tell him, then, if it eats you so?” 

“Because all I would do is undermine the first victories Golarion has had against the Worldwound in decades. I cannot tell her where this power comes from, or why it is seemingly transforming her into a celestial. All I can do now is tell her what she is not, and the only thing it would be salve for is my desire for truth. Truth I still do not understand.”

While honor was not technically one of Torag’s divine areas of concern, he bid his followers to still act by the expectations of dwarven honor. He understood keenly why she would be torn on this issue - how honorable was it to allow false glory to be attributed to her? Yet, on the other hand, how honorable would it be to undermine one whose honor was under her guard?

“Even after centuries of experience to ground you to divine reason, you still try to think as a mortal.” He stroked his beard. “Then so be it: what would mortal Iomedae have done so long ago?”

Much as she did not want to answer, she knew what ruling Kantaria had often demanded. What she had seen the crusaders need to do time and again to hold the line. “Compromise. At least until I could act definitively. Balance concerns to keep everyone content, if not happy, no matter how much I loathed it.”

“And what is your compromise?”

“Let it stand, until I know the truth.” She loathed the very idea, but Torag had cut to the meat of the point. “When I know, I will descend and tell my paladin the truth, whatever it is. Until then, I will let her reconstitute the crusaders and drive a lance into the Worldwound.”

“You have given her the tools of a paladin, and others have entered her toolbox. It is up to mortalkind to decide what they will create or destroy. What of the Hand, will you allow him to go?”

“Perhaps his guidance is what she will need, and it has been far too long since he stood among the crusaders. Together, they can find the truth.”

Torag nodded approvingly. “Let them find their own way. It may not be the way you seek, but it is not our place to solve all of mortalkind’s problems.” 

He waited for Iomedae to offer a response, then as she stayed silent he offered a smile. “If you must draw your attention away, perhaps you might join me on a trip to Elysium? Cayden Cailean has a new brew, and is looking for company to try it with.”

Iomedae smiled in response. Perhaps a chance to step away, for a short while, was just what she needed.

Some things truly never changed.

[sanguith]

Not defending ai art, genuinely asking: does the "If you don't make it with your own hands it doesn't count" argument equally apply to photography, in your opinion? The exact same criticism was leveled against it when cameras started to become widespread, which made me start to think more closely about where I draw the line and why.

(From a Baltimore Sun article:

As early as 1842, a magazine writer was complaining that “the artist cannot compete with the minute accuracy of the Daguerreotype.” By 1859, essayist Charles Baudelaire was denouncing photography as “the mortal enemy of art.”

“If photography is allowed to stand in for art in some of its functions,” Baudelaire fumed, “it will soon supplant or corrupt it completely.”

And a few years later, the writer Hippolyte Fandrin lamented: “I greatly fear that photography has dealt a death blow to art.”)

Again, this is a genuine question. I'm not an AI fan I'm just trying to figure out why people (including myself) treat it differently from other image generation or manipulation methods.

Oh! Thanks for the ask! It prompted a lot of thoughts, actually. This got kinda long, but as a philosophy nerd I like this stuff so buckle up! (I'm purely freestyling this btw, consider it more of a philosophical discussion rather than something based on empirical evidence - nearly impossible to do while discussing what defines "art"):

Yeah photography is real art as much as any other kind of art. I should not have limited it to art only being art if it's produced using hands, but rather mainly involving the creative process of a human consciousness somehow. I think my comment in the tags was more of a way to express the opinion that "AI art will never be human in the same intrinsically valuable way that human-made art is". In my opinion, humanity is intrinsically valuable and therefore the human creative component is integral to art. This creative component can of course look very different depending on the medium.

One could however argue that AI art does involve human intention. It is the human that picks the prompts and evaluates the finished image, after all. As with photography, the human picks an object, frames it, clicks the button and then evaluates and perhaps edits/develops the image. The absolute greatest problem I have with AI art however, which the original post focuses a lot on, is the art theft and the fact that many companies are actually using AI art as a direct replacement for human art.

And AI art can imitate a wide range of styles taken from huge datasets of existing images and create something that looks like an oil painting, a photo, watercolour, digital art, graphite, or written works like poems, articles, etc! So AI art can be everything, with much the same creation process behind it. Photography might have replaced a lot of demand for portrait art and photo-realistic art in society, but that is only one single quite small branch of the overall ocean of genres within art (it perhaps rather expanded on it!) and eventually became a whole branch of its own with many different subgenres.

Some questions that popped up in my head while writing this that I realize might actually be quite difficult to answer (these are for thinking about & discussing only, don't read these questions as me trying to justify anything):

Is the process of writing in prompts for an AI work art? Why/why not?

Is non-human art less valuable than human art? Why/why not?

If AI art is theft, does it disqualify it from being art? If so, what makes it different from human-made art that is directly plagiarizing another person's art?

Is the human process of programming an AI considered art?

How could AI art be produced and used ethically?

My own conclusion from this is that Art is a difficult concept to accurately assign one single universal definition to, and just as with everything in human society, it is constantly evolving. Whether or not it does qualify as art or not at the end of the day, however, it does not change the fact that AI art is currently being used in an unethical way that is having complex and direct real life repercussions on artists.

Again, thanks for the ask!! I love stuff like this and I try to think about it as critically as possible. My own opinion is probably still mostly "AI art bad" but mainly because of the negative effects and the unethical practice.

(Asking "why/why not" is so valuable btw, it allows one to continue asking and answering questions almost endlessly and eventually either arrive at some sort of "root" answer or go around in circles)

[pokemonbattletournament]

Daily Image Upload Limit my mortal enemy

[persephoneflouwers]

What things not conventionally accepted in the fandom do you believe about bg? We all have our own beliefs and I think that's totally OK. I like hearing things outside the box

I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this and quite honestly I haven’t read it anywhere. I think people too often divide Harry and Louis solo careers because they think they are on different stages, but with them I always apply the same logic. To me they go in tandem, like yoghurt packs alright? Like cherries. It’s the two of them or nothing (hypothetically either if they are together or not). It’s not a case I have a tag for them and it’s polar opposites lol I know people say they are their own people and I agree to a limited extent. They do what they have to for their careers and obviously they do what they can individually, but babygate is something else. It’s not a simple stunt. It’s not a stunt like the others. That shit is not something you just go through by yourself. I wouldn’t be afraid to say babygate is never one single individual call, never is Louis’ individually.

I want to take a few steps back to 2015. One direction is still at it, but rumours of the hiatus are on fire. You have 1 of them who’s been courted by the best in the business and your influential son since ages. You have a project for him. You have a plan. A vision. You take the frontman and you need him to be successful. You are going to invest so much money on this guy you’ll make him the new Elvis or something. You know you can. You’re rich enough for that! What 1D team did with his image was incredible. They gave him the most intriguing brand for an upcoming solo artist. They gave him the rockstar aurea, the heartthrob agenda, the golden boy super talented curriculum. They failed with one thing: the rumours on his sexuality. Not the ambiguity, you like the ambiguity. You can even use that ambiguity for his own good. You will (they did). Their failure was one and only: the rumours on your relationship status with your bandmate. You can’t have that. How’s it possible that the mortal enemies pipeline didn’t work? How can you break that? You can’t give your golden goose a serious relationship, a long lasting one… that’s going to ruin the brand. You need to think about something else.

So what if..? What if you rebrand his counterpart, who was in a 5 years long relationship instead and give HIM an even more long lasting stunt? That’s supposedly going to last forever? Like a baby*. That would settle it. How would you do it? How would you convince them to agree with this? You take 4 boys who know no better, who have been indoctrinated and manoeuvred since they were illegal of age, who are going to not be in a band anymore, who feel probably a bit uncertain about their future… and sell them a dream. Add some guilt and strong recommendations, maybe a few threats and lies. And there you have it. The perfect stunt that will serve two purposes: 1. put one of them in the heaviest of the closets (plus he was always a pain in the ass for you so you are even more okay with it), 2. set the other one free from those rumours. (Flashforward: they didn’t stop, but it worked well enough for them anyway).

I know what you are wondering. Why did Louis agreed to this? My two coins are he knew there wasn’t an alternative because in abusive places of work you are proposed with an option, but that’s the only option, which makes you question if that’s an option at all or just an obligation. Plus he saw a way to help their way out after the band and took it. If what he says about the hiatus is true (I have many doubts and questions but still), he was fucking terrified of it so when they come at you with a promise to make it go “better than”… he always felt responsible for the band, so he says anyway. I agree with you, reader! That’s manipulative, toxic, blindsiding, naive. Very naive. But the real thing is I don’t know the reasons behind and this is just me trying to look for a new perspective, because I dont 100% agree with the ones I’ve read through the years.

What pushed me into loophole was the timing of the babygate return. I know 2020 is a weird year because of the pandemic, but we literally started having babygate content in more or less July 2021 — does anyone remember what happened on Harry’s side in July 2021? Does yachtgate 2.0 ring any bell?. Anyway since then we had bg constantly. Remember the arcade date with the kid? That was August 2021! I have a timeline for it but I quitted with keeping up with it because it was too much at some point and now that we’ve seen it was literally made for the documentary it feels even more useless lol.

Isn’t it too coincidental it happened along with the holivia mess and the rampant success Harry has gained throughout 2021 and 2022? When babygate is around, there’s sony around. You cant simply distinguish the two things imo. And isn’t it too coincidental that the first time babygate happened was when they were going solo and the second time it happened huge as ever was when the above mentioned solo careers became insanely grand? Oooh the way we got the release of bg in the doc the same weekend of the Tokyo kiss performance!

What confuses me, though, is who is gaining from this? I mean Sony is for sure in a contorted way. I can see what team Harry is gaining from his stunts too. I say it often but his team always play to win, so if they agree to something they are going to get something. That’s their strategy. I don’t understand what Louis is getting yet. I see he is doing his own shit to be proud of: the tour, the new music, the festival, apparently even the doc. But my question is wouldn’t it be possible without babygate too? And we can’t know yet. I think Louis is cocky and stubborn and sometimes he has to hit his head against the proverbial wall before understanding what’s good and what’s not. But to this stage, it’s too soon to say. I want to see where babygate is going in the next year or so. It’s possible he has chosen to go with babygate instead of continuing with his beard, but then again it’s too soon to say. It’s possible he has chosen to go with babygate instead of agreeing with a revolutionary marriage. It’s possible he has seen twarries drooling over the kid and decided to feed that narrative. I don’t know where this is going yet.

All I know is this revolves around the two of them and it’s possibly one of the few things nowadays that make me believe they still are together. If they weren’t, we wouldn’t see this shit unfold again in front of your salads in the year of our lord 2023.

*not with his actual girlfriend of 5 years but with an American ONS. With no DNA test because you are sure your specimen is so very strong, you take it one for the bros and even if you’re worthy 60millions you don’t need to know if she is actually trying to take advantage of your fame. You are kind at heart like that. A gentleman 💪

Edit after tokyo kissing show.

[demonslayedher]

Things that went through my head while watching this episode:

--This is so much more enjoyable when I already love and care for Inosuke.

--This is also hurts so much more to watch when I already love and care for Inosuke.

--But!! At the very start of the episode we get Giyuu and Shinobu. Giyuu is giving us nothing. Shinobu is observing with a smile that the Corp members they've found are all dead. It makes her seem callous. What with Giyuu's "pssh, no," response to her playful suggestion that they get along, which feels really inappropriate after having just found a bunch of dead colleagues, it gave me the distinct impression that the Pillars are all terrible people, and possibly even enemies Tanjiro will eventually have to overcome (in some sense, yes?). I saw Giyuu as cold-hearted and couldn't interpret his introducing Tanjiro to Urokodaki as kindness, and Shinobu was... well, I just assumed she was going to be the overly cheerful healer.

--It was, however, very inappropriate timing, Shinobu!!! She at least had the decency to ask if Giyuu had friends among them before going into her "welp, everyone else around here may as well be dead anyway, it's probably just you and me, so let's get along!" chirping. OF COURSE GIYUU WAS NOT IN THE MOOD TO HEAR THIS. Those guys are dead and could have lived if only he had gotten there sooner. Giyuu cares.

--Not that the Kimetsu Academy shorts thus far have done Giyuu's image any favors.

--The "moshi moshi, daijoubu desu ka?" entrance is still classic. Also, I love Shinobu's theme music.

--Tanjiro really does have so much ability to think on his feet in battle, cutting down the tree was a great idea, and he's got the composure to stay focused on what a battle needs. It was satisfying to see Inosuke so impressed, and it puts on full display how Inosuke is a frog in a well who knows not the sea, a big fish in a small pond, a king of the forest who just hasn't encountered any humans stronger than him so he naturally assumes he is the strongest. This is but one step in the great humbling of the boar; deeply realizing that Tanjiro has battle skills which Inosuke personally lacks. A harsh realization, when battle skills are your thing.

--And then Tanjiro proceeds to spend the rest of the episode engaged in a playground fight.

--Fun fact, for whatever reason, the Corp Member who gets diced to bits was trending for a time in the Japanese fandom, he was affectionately referred to like diced steak and was the butt of jokes. I don't recall any at the moment, whenever I see him I'm like, "oh, it's that guy who goes to show Kaigaku isn't the only asshole in this Corp and who brazenly states his sinister plans for making himself look good so he can get more money and who then wound up the butt of diced steak jokes."

--So anyway, Inosuke. He got really close to dying, guys, we really could had lost him, hot dang, that was dangerous and Inosuke sure knew it and knowing that sure affected him

--But dang was it satisfying to see Inosuke's energy knocked down so many notches over the course of this night as he's forced over and over and face that this showing off his strength isn't all that fun if it means human people are dying anyway and you have someone named Tantaro starting to get under your skill and make you face your own mortality with how concerned he is for you

--But, for as much as this night is shaking Inosuke to his never-before-so-greatly-challenged core, it's so Inosuke to see him catch himself and be like, "Hhr? This isn't like me, dang Kentaro infected me with fluffy germs. Time to go be the best, as usual!"

--Inosuke and Zenitsu both display a deep commitment to not giving up. Inosuke keeps trying and trying, even with broken swords and hardly any strength left in his arms, that's so sad when he twitches and starts going limp with no more strength, this was truly Inosuke at his limit. Had Giyuu not come, he absolutely for sure had been dead, dead, very dead, but not for lack of having tried.

--Instead, for lack of being as powerful as he thinks himself.

--Again, what great juxtaposition to Zenitsu's triumphant battle, they make sure great foils to each other that it drives me crazy. That said, Inosuke was the one who came away from Nt. Natagumo having learned a lesson.

--Oh hey, Douma-influenced flashback #1

--Again, the Mt. Natagumo arc and setting is so good because the sense of danger runs so deep. Tanjiro can hardly focus on his playground battle because he has mortal fear for Inosuke and what he's up against.

--If Rui gets tried of childish playground arguing so fast, he probably would have had trouble making friends even if he did have the health to keep up with them. He seems like the child who is years more mature than everyone around him in his grade level and therefore he closes himself off from the idiots.

--But who needs idiotic friends (Tanjiro, evidently) when you can have F~A~M~I~L~Y. Blood bonds are strongest, after all, especially you have physically reformed them with your own personal blood. Even though it could had been translated as "A Fake Bond" I wonder if the official English title of this episode was "A Forged Bond" because of the potential double-meaning.

--Poor Rui, though, thinking that family naturally includes abuse as part of its normal affairs. To be fair, his father did attempt to kill him, but where in the world did Rui pick up the idea that fathers physically punish mothers, brothers physically punish sisters?

--And does he realize that mother spiders eat father spiders???

--I used to headcanon that the reason spiders became Rui's thing was because when he was sick in his room, he had no one for company but a spider up in the corner to observe, but what hits me now is that the inspiration may come from the webs. What Rui really desires is the entanglement of family relations. He wants the comfort of a web to be snared up, to be valuable enough not to be let go of.

--SNAP!!!! THERE GOES SWORD #1!!!

--TANJIRO, HAGANEZUKA IS GONNA KILL YOU

[paperanddice]

Chort devils enforce bargains that mortals try to escape, and destroy reputations of zealous foes. They make bargains themselves as well, offering power and rewards to the desperate, but other devils who have been foiled in their pacts will approach a chort to ensure that those who try to escape the consequences of their deal are dealt with. Often, a chort will do so simply by teleporting into the bargainer's home and make public proclamations of their bargain, reading the full deal and focusing on embarrassing details. Rivals ruined, love ensnared, political power gained, costs paid. Even if they escaped their payment, their reputation and image will be destroyed, as everyone knows what they've done.

Alternatively, those resistant to being manipulated into a pact may find their reputation shredded by a chort's investigations. Damaging stories from their past come to light, real or false, rivals find sudden fortune to rise up, or most damning, crimes are pinned on them. A favorite of chort is to steal a paladin's weapon and use it to murder an innocent or pious person, leaving the weapon to be found. Even if the paladin is not officially accused, the act sours the paladin's reputation, taints a virtuous weapon, and creates discord among the chort's foes.

Inspired by the Tome of Beasts 1. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as access to my premade adventures and other material I’m working on, consider backing me there!

Pathfinder 2e

Chort Devil Creature 12 Medium, Devil, Fiend, Unholy Perception +23; greater darkvision Languages Celestial, Common, Draconic, Infernal; telepathy 100 feet Skills Athletics +25, Deception +23, Diplomacy +23, Intimidation +25, Religion +22, Society +22, Stealth +23, Legal Lore +24 Str +7, Dex +5, Con +8, Int +4, Wis +5, Cha +5 Items +1 striking ranseur AC 31; Fort +26, Ref +21, Will +21; +1 status to all saves vs. magic HP 255; Immunities fire; Resistances physical 15 (except silver), poison 15; Weaknesses holy 15 Speed 25 feet Melee flaming ranseur +25 (disarm, magical, reach 10 feet, unholy), Damage 2d10+15 piercing plus 1d6 fire Melee claw +24 (agile, magical, unholy), Damage 3d6+10 slashing Divine Innate Spells DC 31, attack +23 ; 6th dispel magic, dominate, teleport; 5th divine immolation, translocate; 4th blazing bolt (at will), translocate (at will); 3rd haste; 2nd blur (at will); Divine Rituals DC 31; diabolic pact Devilish Weapons A weapon used by a chort devil gains the effects of a flaming rune while the chort holds it.

13th Age

Chort Devil Double-Strength 8th level wrecker [devil] Initiative: +11 Flaming Polearm +13 vs. AC (2 attacks, can target nearby enemies) – 35 damage plus 10 fire damage. R: Scorching Rays +13 vs. PD (4 attacks, nearby targets) – 15 fire damage. Natural Even Hit: The target also takes 10 ongoing fire damage. C: Burning Pillar +13 vs. PD (1d3 nearby enemies in a group) – 50 fire damage. Limited Use: 1/battle, when the escalation die is 2+. Blurred Outline: 1/round, as an interrupt action when the chort devil is targeted by a melee or ranged attack, it can cause the attack to have a 20% chance of missing. Teleport: As a move action when the escalation die is even, the chort devil can teleport to a nearby or far away spot that it can see. Resist Fire 13+. AC 23 PD 22 MD 18 HP 242

[maruzzewrites]

Tome of Strahd

I posted the link to my Ao3 before (here, if you want!), but I figured I wanted the full thing on Tumblr too. Expanded on the Tome to give more context to my players, with my own ideas about Strahd's character, relationships and story. All the warnings typical of Ravenloft apply, of course.

The first time I saw a man die in front of my eyes, I was still a youth and easy to upset. For years, I have waited to join the people of my country on fields virgin to blood. 

Never I contemplated the possibility of death in war in my young mind, filled with every possibility but mortality. That was when I was confronted by the reality due to a soldier having his guts spilled on fresh grass, now too heavy for the blood to dance with the air.

I regurgitated every last piece of food sitting in my stomach that same moment, and again that evening when I could see the scene the moment my eyes closed. 

Now, more than a decade later, the same sight wouldn’t leave the same impression. On the other hand, it’s the same indifference I experience that troubles my mind. A man should not find himself not caring for the life of others, so why can I mourn a soldier in less than a minute now that I’m older and wiser?

When I admitted to others the growing concern about this affair, I am met with issues of similar entity. Never with solutions, however. My closest companions would either offer sympathies or comfort, but no amount of words can really quiet the noise, not when they’re not at my side. I can drown these thoughts only so much in conversations.

One thing I never wished for was these worries to reach my father’s ear, yet one day he approached me and imposed his will: I should stop agonizing over pointless doubts and accept the reality of my duty. Death follows those who sow it, he said.

Despite his warning, I feel restless. Every moment devoid of action, is devoted instead to resist either the knowledge I’m losing some part of me or the attempts of my brain to remember the fallen through their last moments, lived in front of my eyes.

Death truly follows me, yet I forget.  

Thus, I now find myself noting down my thoughts so that they may not escape in the fog that is my memory. Everyday, words escape me, thoughts are like wind blowing between mountain tops, and my body seems to lose the limits of the flesh when I stall too long.

For this, I am always moving and occupying myself in an attempt to keep everything inside the boundaries I need to maintain. And for this, I note down the names of those we lost and will lose. I may not speak of them, per my father’s request, but I will carry them.

---

My father lost his life in the last battle.

Our troops were in a frenzy, as soon as his body hit the ground. Scrambling to reach him so that he could be brought to safety, hoping that his life could still be saved. It was too late, however. Fatal blow, he died almost instantly.

I knew it, of course. One could survive a wound like his to the chest, to the legs, to the arms, not to the brain. The last image of my father is of a bloody gash opened in the middle of his forehead, his skull concave.

I regret thinking about how peculiar it was to me his men would rush to his side to save him. Was he truly a great king and a great general, to the point people would overlook his shortcomings? And yet his own son felt a spark of relief in his death, immediately suffocated by heartache?

I admired my father. I want to love him. And now, I find myself wondering if I can even step in his shoes. I wish for someone to admire me, wanting to love me as well; but I despise the thought of ending my life on a battlefield.

---

The war ends, at last.

My enemies are weary as much as my men. I do not see the need to continue if we can reach the right compromise and live in harmony. I cannot hope for friendship, but peace will be enough.

---

The valley is the most beautiful I have ever seen. Nature doesn’t seem to fight the villages and towns here, but embrace them. The river and the lakes are clear, cold to the touch, yet beautiful to observe.

My friends always lauded the wonders of the sea and the benefits of a life with dried salt on your skin, burning because of the sun. It is hard to let them understand the grace and charm of the mountains surrounding a peaceful valley: emerald and colorful when spring comes, muted and candid with snow once winter takes hold.

The quiet can be healing to the spirit, but if one feels too isolated and craves the noise of a town, in the heart of the valley you can find people. I had no hesitation in celebrating von Zarovich’s ritual to claim the land and now my blood runs inside the earth. In honor of my father, I named it Barovia; shall he oversee this new land and rejoice that his name can carry on.

Lost in nature but still vibrant with life. This valley reminds me of the words of a person I knew long ago. 

Perhaps I’m just blinded by memories once again. However, I cannot deny myself this reverie, for it is too delightful.

---

Today, a woman came knocking on the door of my new castle. The sister of the last survivor of the dusk elves’ court and the one I usually refer to in order to talk to them. Her name is Patrina and she was offered a room, for I wish to be a respectable host.

Rahadin isn’t too fond of her, to be expected. He doesn’t seem to favor anyone of his kin and, no matter how it pains me to see his loathing, I have to accept his reasons. He can be sentimental about family, despite everything.

This woman has an incredible understanding of magic. Her arrival at my castle was motivated by her hunger for knowledge and she attributed to me a source of magic and learning. I do not see how I could teach her much, I have seen her read spells of great power without a hitch; yet, I find myself unable to refuse her presence.

I am no fool and I am not one to deny evidence. I have been alone for a long time, engrossed in the expectations of my father and my army, so the interest of a person so remarkable does something to a lonely man’s soul.

---

There is something uneasy lingering in my brain lately. I am restless and unable to succumb to sleep easily, it is as if feelings and sensation I cannot remember rush to my mind the moment I close my eyes and escape me as dreams do in the morning.

It is not simply the same old, the nightmares of war festering like every night. This is different. There are voices in tongues I do not know, shadows are deeper and darker in the corners of my room, there is a weight in the back of my head that grows when I have less control over myself.

Patrina smiles at me, when she sees me like that. I wonder if she wants to comfort me when she tells me humans are fragile things, susceptible to time. She can speak so lovingly, yet her words cut deep and she cannot see it.

When I look at her, in the moments together in the library or on the balcony, I see a defiant youth who can defy mortal rules and a pang of envy grows cold in my chest. That is when I can hear those voices more clearly.

Perhaps they are simply thoughts I suppress and fight not to understand. 

---

The solitude poisons my mind. Despite the presence of my fiancee and my loyal friend in the castle, despite servants ready to answer my every word, I feel as if there is nothing for me here.

The beauty of the valley is still there, but I now see the truth: spring dies too quickly, winter is bitter and unending. The spectacle nature can offer has a short life, then it leaves space for death and desolation. Ulmed invited me to spend some time away from Barovia, somewhere warm and welcoming, and I do miss his friendship; however, it is my duty to serve Barovia as it serves me.

All the same, his words did give me the idea: I should inform my mother and my brother that they can live here, if they wish. If they come, perhaps, the cold will be nothing more than an excuse to spend time together.

---

Words full of contempt have reached my ears, they have insinuated in my head and they will not leave. 

The people of the valley whisper rumors that are founded on nothing. Tales of my perceived bloodlust, of slaying creatures only for my cruelty and no care for the consequences it would bring to those under my care. Some talk about how I hold powers who feed on the souls and life of mortals. Others see me as an old man wrecked by horrors and unable to act properly.

I am either treated as glass or as scourge. And while they do not dare to tell their thoughts to my face, Rahadin brings back information regarding what they say. I wish for him to stop reporting these rumors to me. But he is only doing his duty, most useful ally and most precious friend he is.

My mother informed me that she does intend to move into my castle and she will bring my brother with her. It surprises me that Sturm would leave our old house, but I will welcome him as a worthy older brother. I just worry, alas, about these rumors.

They shall not bring anguish to my poor mother’s heart. She should not suffer hearing the ingratitude of these people towards her son.

---

Patrina’s knowledge is truly something otherworldly. I have studied languages before and I know many, but to speak the words of the underbelly of the world has a strange charm to it. Seeing her speak Abyssal with such ease, and offer nothing but smiles when I ask her where she could have found her source of inspiration.

I have to admit, in spite of the beauty and grace of this fiancee of mine, I feel my heart tremble in my chest for causes beyond infatuation. It’s difficult to place this frenzy, it’s not like myself; when Patrina talks to me, it’s a feverish feeling of wanting to please her and knowing I can’t get there quite yet. 

Nonetheless, there is more to it than simple devotion.

Still, she teaches me Abyssal and Infernal. I learn, easily. And now I understand some quick words coming from the voices who accost me on the edge of sleep. I still forget them come morning. 

Maybe I should ask her if she knows, if these lessons are deliberate. However, I fear I will only see her cryptic smile.

---

I received a joyful report that my mother and my brother are on their way. They are close. The peaceful feeling surrounding this information is only the prelude to a prosperous life, I want to hope.

Even the continuous voices and rumors reaching me on the peak of this castle cannot silence the delight I have in my body. May these people be ungrateful, may they forget who they owe their loyalty to, for now I will only care for the reunion with my beloved mother.

---

It has been difficult to write or think lately. 

To think I was envisioning days spent with my mother. I knew she was weak and ill, due to her age, yet I still hoped the change of air and the undemanding life she could lead here would have given her new life. Instead, she arrived at my door in a coffin and with my brother following her.

Only that, it was not Sturm. My younger brother, Sergei, resides in my castle now. I had heard voices and rumors about the last son of Barov and Ravenovia, but after my father’s demise I have not received news. I feared the grief could have compromised my mother’s health to the point of loss.

Instead, he is here with me. In my castle. In our castle.

It made me think how I knew so little about what happened to my mother. I knew of her illness, unknown to the best doctors of the land and believed to be divine in nature. Despite the annoyance such foolish conjectures can be, I truly knew nothing about her condition and its gravity.

Was my request the last blow for her? I should have been more lenient, waited for information about the feasibility of the journey and sent my best men to be sure she was healthy enough. 

Seeing her body, preserved thanks to the abilities my brother gained in his life, was humbling. My father and now my mother are not here anymore, and I tasted mortality truly and bitterly. 

Sergei is sensitive, I learnt. He had to be strong while coming here, he had to make sure the people around them would arrive in Barovia and he had to lead them. Admirable, for how young he is. Almost half my age.

Yet, in the intimity of family, he let himself weep as we buried our mother in the crypts. I had to, I couldn’t bear the thought of her resting place being far away from me, and if I wish to visit her grave at any time, it is within reach of my restless nights. Right in front of the one dedicated to my father, beneath my castle.

Our brother Sturm has been informed. For now, it’s only me and Sergei, with our sorrow. I never felt as faint as when I saw the poor man melt into his tears at the knowledge he had to depart from the only parent he has ever known. I was touched by the sight and could not help myself but comfort him.

As I held him in my arms, I could feel my heart fill with love. He was helpless in his mourning and sought the understanding of the only other person who could feel the same. 

He needs me. That's all I could think about as I held him. It has to be enough for now.

---

A few weeks have passed and dark thoughts linger in my ears, before vanishing while I wonder if they’re even mine. My mother lays under my feet, and every night I feel the need to leave my room to spend hours in her crypt.

I resist the temptation as I found that complete silence makes the voice of my thoughts louder, if only because it contrasts with nothing. There is no use in losing my mind in the darkness by myself, but staying in my bed is just as haunting. Not even the rhythmic pacing of Rahadin’s steps through the halls during the night comforts me anymore.

What truly weighs on me during the night, besides the natural mourning of my mother, is the conversations I had with Sergei. I wondered about his life, his studies, his ambitions, anything to have a feeling of how my brother truly is. We are, after all, the last family we have close. Sturm came to pay his respects, but he seems to have come to terms with the reality of our mother’s passing. 

And Sergei gave me his answers: our mother did not want him to take the path my father wanted for me, so he chose the cloth. His kindness, his charity, I can see the people following him with love in their eyes, even here in Barovia. Even Patrina stood by my side and whispered to me that that brother of mine is a pearl kept hidden and now discovered.

He is, he truly is. I see the levity and joy of youth in his eyes, the same traits we share are painted with different brushes. I can see the love my mother poured into him, or he would not be quite as lovable.

How I wish she could be here, and sing his praises to me while we watch him rush to Vallaki to talk to the people or travel to Krezk to return the following day because he was caught up in discussions with the clergy there. I did not have the possibility, though. I was robbed of the last chance to hear my mother’s voice.

Do I even remember it? When I observed her face as we attended the private ceremony, did I truly remember everything about her features or did so much time pass that I had no reference anymore, thus using what I had under my eyes to draw her in my memory? If I was asked to tell a story about us, about my filial love, would I be able to recall the details or would I have to delude myself into believing them?

These questions creep up my marrow, sticking to the back of my brain until there is nothing that allows me to ignore it. At times this darkness becomes oppressing to the point I need to seek solace, wandering until I find myself in Patrina’s arms and she tells me my doubts make me human, and my humanity makes me tender.

She tells me I have to prove to myself I am worthy of love, because the people in Barovia truly do not think so anymore. Her heart bleeds at the hurtful beliefs they hold, yet it does not matter if I can make myself worthy of love. 

There is one last way to listen to my mother, and the documents she left behind. Her memories, her last logs. I have seen them, in her belongings. 

Perhaps that is the solution. 

---

Sergei asked me not to read my mother’s last thoughts on paper as a form of respect, but I told him he had a lifetime to listen to her. I, on the other hand, never had the possibility to see her again.

Yet, those documents lay on the desk in my study as I attempt in any way to avoid having to read them. I know I would feel betrayed if someone important to me read my private musings. I should desist, but the temptation is too great.

Everything has been opened and read already, even if I have no idea who could have pry in my family’s private life. Reasonably, I can assume it was Sergei, however I find it hard to believe.

Indeed, even dwelling in this mystery is just a form of unwillingness to read the contents of my mother’s words. I just need more time to face the last opportunity of having a one-sided conversation with her.

---

I have thought for days now. When I was young I could never imagine venturing into such paranoid yet enlightening truths.

My mother, her last will, wanted to leave all that is left of our family’s grandeur to my brothers. If the wound was not deep enough, my brother Sturm would inherit only the house he so meticulously has taken and continues to take care of, while every heirloom and vestige carrying our name would go to Sergei.

At first I wanted to believe her wish was because she knew I had conquered a land and fortune for myself, but the reality was evident even to the blind eyes of a devoted child. I still can recite every word, but I will refrain from writing them with my own hand if this will prevent making them indeleble under my eyes.

My mother feared me. In her memories, she would report how the invite to my castle made her fear for hers and Sergei’s life, how the day approaching would make her muse over my cruelty and how the rumors traveled from Barovia to her ears by some scandal monger. And all she had to say was that she was distressed that her hypothesis was useful.

That she felt less guilty when her honest thought for years has been that she would have felt relief if I forgo my dreams of conquest or, in case I would not, I would perish for them. For something I have done for my family and for my father’s will.

What fault do I have? If she feared my actions so much, why didn’t she stop my father from using me in war? Why was I robbed of my youth, while my brothers could stay home and build their lives? Sergei is kind, and sweet; but he has never felt the smell of blood, and guts, and flesh clawing its way up his nose and haunting his spirit. 

Why am I the one to be feared?

All I have now are tainted memories, a lot of land populated by ungrateful rabble, a mother who could not bear to love her child, a father who haunts me with a probable destiny and my brothers.

And my brother. Sergei, the perfect and kind son. My father would have loathed his weakness. Or perhaps that was reserved for me.

---

There are voices in my head tempting me into reading every last word in my mother’s memories. It is torture, pure and simple, yet I cannot stop read and reread every passage with my name.

I take from my mother the habit of not writing down my thoughts often, a single journal spanning years and years. Only notable events in her life were graced of her consideration and penned down so to remember; but all were gloom. If my birth was a happy moment, the following days filled my mother with grim foreboding and fear of the evil she could see in my eyes. As an infant, not yet able to talk or move.

I never knew pain could feel quite like this; numb, cold. Patrina asked to have the journal and dispose of it, citing how my compulsion to read it was only harming me. In a moment of clarity, I did give it to her and yet I cannot forget the words.

---

There are voids in my memory lately. Patrina attests to it. There are times where she seems to speak with the same words my mother reserved to me in her memories, but when I question it she observes me with sorrow in her eyes and she tells me I told her those exact words.

She is right. With how restless I feel, I am lucky I have a patient woman to my side. Her caring nature is only enhanced by her willingness to wait for the right moment for marriage, never pushing or asking when I intend to ask. 

Perhaps it should be soon.

---

The winter goes, once again. It is spring and I detest how the cheerful air cannot help my humor. My heart feels heavy, my soul is spent. Alek speaks to the nobles in my stead, Sergei is loved by the population.

It is easy for them to desire him in charge when all they know of him is charity and kindness. But a ruler cannot function like that, he has to be headstrong and know how to impose his will.

Perhaps Rahadin is right and I will return to reign properly. If everything in my past has been ruined by the selfishness of others, I can forge a new future. With a wife, and potentially children.

---

Patrina seemed elated by my desire to truly rule over my subjects and take my rightful role as the count of this land. Her support makes me believe my choice has been the right one, that she is truly a wonderful candidate as the countess of Barovia and my future spouse.

I have informed her of my intentions and soon we will announce our decision together. We hope this union will favor a peaceful relationship between humans and elves.

Perhaps as a gift for this proposal, Patrina shared an ancient secret of this land with me. She informed me she has been wanting to reveal it for a long time, but she was certain the moment came when I asked to be linked in matrimony.

Apparently, a venerable temple was built in the southern mountains of this valley. Hidden by the snow and the harsh road, this temple is a cove of secret knowledge gathered by powerful wizards to share with the world. Due to their death, the temple has fallen into anonymity before Patrina found it.

We traveled to it. It is an impressive structure and it is a wonder it has been unknown for so long, but what really made my heart sink was approaching it and the voices that tormented me for months fusing into a single, clear voice: my own, repeating the same upsetting ideas into my ears. The only difference is that now I could remember them, and I felt like I always had them in my head.

Could it be an effect of the obvious magic hosted by the temple? When I asked Patrina if she felt different arriving there, she denied and she wondered if I felt anything odd. I denied too, worried it may alarm her. She did not elaborate on it and I was grateful.

---

Everyone just thinks they can take everything from me. It is a cruel joke of the universe that I shall suffer for the errors and selfishness of those around me. Rahadin was right, the dusk elves are nothing but a mass of pathetic liars and wretched lowlives.

I do not know how they could claim their action was self-righteous when they have the blood of their own kin on their hands, for nothing but petty offenses. Patrina was killed by them in a cruel and dishonorable display of pure narrow-mindedness.

I could not let them claim victory for this battle, and I instructed Rahadin to do as he wished to them. I know that any ounce of rage I may feel cannot compare to the hatred he has felt for years. So, may he find peace now that the deed is done.

---

Barovians care not for actual leadership, they only crave the indulgence of those who can give without taking. A demanding herd following the words of subversives, but if they do think I take pleasure in the thankless task of guiding them they are sorely mistaken.

Let the barons lead. If they so wish, the masses can resolve their own issues and manage their own treasure. I will not invest money of my own in communities who will not be gracious enough to give back and respect authority.

Sergei is not in agreement with my methods. If he wishes to use his newfound inheritance for the people, I am no one to impose my will on this finances. I can offer advice, but not issue orders to him. 

However, he needs to remember he is a man of the cloth, and not a statesman. My parents gave up that title for him when they forced it on me.

---

Sergei had a surprise for me today. He invited me to Vallaki, to the central plaza. I should have told him I was unavailable for his frivolous games, but perhaps I was filled with fear to prevent myself from experiencing the beautiful autumn this valley can offer. It is the last occasion before winter will arrive and freeze every place, person and sentiment.

Therefore, I waited for him in the plaza. I have avoided relationships with the population for so long that many have no idea of my face, but those who remember who their ruler is would regard me with contempt. Those same people who would celebrate my birthday and my arrival like sheep, now are unable to form thoughts of their own about my person.

In spite of the faults of this crowd, there was someone who shone bright in the shadows. A woman reached my side and spoke with such candid modesty. She has a rare beauty to her as she carried the colors of autumn as she went, and I can only imagine she will harvest the spring when it will come.

Her manners were typical of the common folk, yet devoid of the flattery of nobles. She spoke to me with honesty and humanity. It was a vision, until I saw my brother join our conversation without being noticed by me, such was my attention grabbed by this woman.

Then, she was introduced to me. Tatyana is her name, soon attached to von Zarovich. The same breath who gave me her name, ripped her from my hands. This was Sergei’s surprise; his paramour.

Her ‘brother’, that is what she referred me as. 

Once again I had to see someone taken from me. I do understand my brother is a suitor many would want to marry, but I could see genuine affection between the two of them. Sergei has been fortunate enough to find someone to love him earnestly, while I was once again robbed of this possibility by the cruel path forced upon me.

That is what separates me from him. I have been death’s companion for long, and people cannot stand the sight of a man who wasted his youth. Even if it was for them. Sergei never had to.

That is why Tatyana can look in his eyes and find love, while looking into mine and find pity.

---

I knew winter would bring nothing but sorrow, but now even spring betrays me. Sergei has informed me of his and Tatyana’s intentions to marry this summer. My soul aches with the same intensity of old wounds, and my heart cannot choose the emotion on which to settle.

I had months to forget and forsake these feelings, for I know I could not forgive a brother loving my wife. All the same, her carefree and youthful personality brings light into this valley and she stands so close, her presence lingers in this castle long after she leaves.

When I see her, my heart falls out of my chest and into my hands. I taste mortality again with every day I see them savor their youth without the worry of age. And even then, when they do reach my age, they will have been blessed by a secure and untroubled life.

Worse than anything, those voices continue to push and probe at my morality. I have already done unimaginable things, and endorsed those of other people, they tell me, what is stopping me from another sacrifice. I want to convince myself that these voices are separate from me, but such a thing is ridiculous.

To think I would find myself battling my own voice and my own ideas, struggling to even sleep lest I fall victim of spirals of terror.

These afflictions force me out of the castle, seeking knowledge. I visit those abandoned halls guarded by the cold everlasting winter of the mountains. The temple holds immense wisdom dating back centuries and I find comfort in the eventuality of an answer.

But last time there was something calling to me, in the depths of the temple. In its belly, something was calling to me and promising me eternal life for a price. No matter how much I bargained, I would receive no answer about my part of the deal.

Exethanter would not answer either. He simply found the situation hilarious.

Now, in the dead of the night, I continue to rethink those words. If noting down my thoughts has helped me in these years, the last months have been filled indeleble words fogging my mind.

I can think about nothing else unless I am besides Tatyana. 

She gives me peace, and she may be taken from me.

---

Rereading everything in this tome reminds me of the frantic line of thoughts that kept my head full, and still now there is the shadow lurking in the back of my mind waiting for those moments of calm to strike and plant discord.

I wonder how much time has passed. The ink on the last page is dry, consumed, and I now live with the memories. For now I am the Ancient. I am the Land. I forged a path of blood with that one entity calling to me in the temple.

I touched its tomb of amber and I knew instantly the price. To sacrifice someone I love, and my mind wandered immediately to my brother. On the day of his wedding, I fulfilled my end and drank his blood.

I felt as if I was filled with rapture and reached the balcony, where the ceremony would take place if the groom was alive. Among the nobles, the clergy, the guards, in front of Tatyana, I appeared beastly and sanguinary.

She fled from me. Only rage fueled me, as I strived to make her understand the lengths I would go through to prove my love. Yet, she ran from me and reached the edge of the balcony, stealing one of the swords from the guards too petrified to react, and she threatened to jump.

No amount of persuasion could convince her to step down and let me explain. When I approached, she would get closer to the edge, and her heels ended up balancing on the fine line separating her from the void.

She would not stop yelling at me and I could not help myself from grabbing onto her dress, hoping she would just come to reason. She did not, she swung the sword and the blad sunk into my chest. However, I did not die. I did not live either.

I exist in the limbo between, I belong to the beasts I hunted for years. I am undead, and Tatyana was the one who sealed my pact with my own blood. It tainted the pearly white of her skirt as it splattered all over. 

She looked at me with horror as my transformation came to an end; now people describe me with red eyes I cannot see, with fangs and deadly skin. She would rather jump to her death than accept my promise.

I searched every inch of the land under the cliff personally, and the limits of my domain will not set anyone free. Her body disappeared, as if swallowed by the mist haunting the valley now. Not even I know what was of her body.

I lived long with the torment of having lost the light of my life, while still having to pay the price of the deal. Barovia now shows its rotten nature and it was supposed to be my eternal hell.

However, I found her again. Under another name, but her appearance and her behavior cannot be mistaken for anyone else. I truly believed I could hold her at last, and exorcize the voices and the curse lingering around me once and for all.

Once again, though, the world was complicit in tearing her from me. And again. And again. She is taunting me. The land itself is taunting me. I shall find a solution. Perhaps the temple holds the answer, perhaps I can fabricate my own answer.

Perhaps I should simply pursue Tatyana until she understands and we shall find peace together. She took my mortality and plunged into the earth with it. If she took it from me, she can give it back.

[asknueidentified]

“Someone suggested to NaN to try designing an adventurer arc as I would....  despite being a mere mortal in body, soul and mind.... and utterly lacking in magic to add that extra level of verisimilitude.”

“Well, with those limitations.... I can only think interface screws abound... you’d be surprised what the Roll20 interface will let you get away with...”

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

Up late doing game prep, mind started to wander, ended up on the old tumblr account on a whim, likely cause a few of my current game’s players are role playing their PCs on here now.  Anyhow, my mind drifted to said suggestion of preparing an adventurer arc as Nue would.  And it’s an interesting thought experiment to say the least, not the least because it’s been ages since I’ve gotten into Nue’s headspace, and I’m out of practice.  Figured I’d write this up, it ended up a little more rambly then I intended, but hey, what do you want?  It’s the wee hours of the morning and I should really be asleep.

Now while, I didn’t have time to actually build an adventurer via Nue logic; and truthfully couldn’t really be true to her in doing so since I’d be reigning in her worse impulses in trying to actually make the game fun; I did end up with some thoughts for what might be fun to do to my players if they ever end up in a context that this would be appropriate.

Probably the biggest one is to make use of Roll20′s ability to have players on different maps.  Since the players don’t immediately know if they’re on different maps from each other, this could allow you to have subtle (or not so subtle) differences in who sees what.  There are only really two big interface tells that they’re on different maps, the first is that when initiatives are bound to tokens players only see things in the initiative tracker that are on the same map as them, which with multiple windows and quick mouse work and some clever token bound macros you could make non obvious enough (or just avoid combat).  The second one you have less control over being player pings, though you could probably play that off as Roll20 being busted if you timed the session to be right after an update (remember when them messing with the lighting layer broke token health bar justification for a week?)

This could be used to do things like swap out map images briefly for one player but not others.  For example, my PCs are currently on a haunted ship, so if I were to this now, and one of the PCs failed a save against one of the haunt effects, I could change the map layer image for just their instance of the map to some version that I’ve added a shit load of blood splatter to.  Probably via having the map layer be a multi-sided token on each map.  Of course the problem with doing that is that the new image would have to be loaded, and if the player’s connection is slow, it could be obvious that’s what I’ve done, before the effect fully loads, never good to draw attention to the smoke when one is playing with smoke and mirrors.  So I might have to do it by having each map image over top of one another on the map layer to make sure each image is cached on the player’s side.

The next idea that occurs to me would be to use animated tokens.  It wouldn’t have quite the same effect as the first time I used it (when the PCs encountered an entity of divine rank), as the feature had just been released so the players didn’t even know animated tokens were possible.  But I almost never use animated effects so I think it’d still have a use.  In the context of the above multiple maps thing.  What if I made an animated token of each of the PC’s token’s each fading slowly into the token of the enemies, set to not repeat?  Then on each player’s instance of the map I make sure to do that to every PC other than their own, can they remember who was friend and foe?

Then there’s the shit I could do with some of the roll20 API things... actually I’m not going to detail that here... I just found one I’m actually going to do to them in a session or two... and ya, they might read this.

Beyond that there’s interface screws I can do on discord.  I think the most useful would be to slowly (or perhaps suddenly, context depending) lower the bitrate of the voice channel until it sounds like a tin can.  That could if used, and timed properly be quite creepy I think.

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

Course managing all that, especially the map thing, would be a nightmare.  But hey, I could always use an excuse to justify adding yet another monitor to my setup.

Anyhow, I should probably sleep.  Though I must say, even though this wasn’t really RP blog worthy, I find myself sorely tempted to make a go at resurrecting this blog.  But if I’m honest with myself, I don’t have the time, and at best it would probably be me just ranting about TTRPG stuff.

[stoppit-keepout]

[Text is available at the link but in case someday it is not, image description time. First image is the title "Coming up with a complete list of ways to die," subtitle "Read it if you want to live," and byline "Max Lavergne", with a black-and-white photograph of a huge sinkhole taking up the majority of a road. The photo has been edited so that the sinkhole is full of red.

Subsequent pictures have the text under the cut:

Early on three people I knew died from things I had never heard of, those being cancer of the pancreas, secondary infection from an antibiotic-resistant superbug while in the hospital and toxic shock. These came as a surprise to me. Naturally there were ways to die that I was aware of, even at my tender age, like drowning, heart attacks, car crash, tuberculosis, eaten by a shark and head chopped off with a sword. I knew about stroke, which my uncle had had. We visited him in the hospital where he lay in a terrifically complicated bed, his eyes watery and skin blending into the linen, and my aunt told us we were lucky to still have him. “Family hug,” she’d demanded wetly. I was in my own thoughts. I'd heard about strokes and he'd survived. OK. My course of action was obvious. I began a list of every way to die that I could think of. I started with the big ones. Starve. Die of thirst. Freeze. Burn. These were easy. Drink poison. Eat something you're terribly allergic to. Explode. Train crash. Bridge collapse. As I compiled the list I gained momentum, and I found also that no one else I knew died by any of the causes I had listed. Fall on wet rocks. Squashed by a truck. Electric shock from home appliance. Ride bicycle into a hole. As my project advanced I found that my list did not become more difficult to compile but rather easier. Fall off a cliff. And be pulverized by meteorite. And have your necktie caught in the gears of a lumbermill conveyor belt. And be bayonetted by a foreign soldier. Yet more as I swayed along the streets of the city, jotting my notes in an exercise book. Tree fall. Lighting strike. Needlestick. Tongue swallowed. Gut twisted in a knot. Elevator cable snap. Bystander in the crossfire of a deadly game played by two desperate spies. Revenge of a slighted enemy. My friend William rode his bike home from school and, busy waving to his cousin, rode straight into an open drain. But he survived. And so I knew I was doing the right thing. Stray arrow from an archery field. Fall from scaffolding and land on exposed rebar column. Quicksand. Kitchen knife dropped on leg nicks an artery. Swim in the lake at dusk while the sky darkens and you lose the shore. And that's not to mention the endless traffic accidents, the myriad wild animal maulings, the infinite diseases. Say nothing of the murders. I felt compelled to share my list with publishers. I showed them my the exercise book and to a man they laughed and congratulated me and sent me away. Creatively spurred on I reimagined my medium, transforming the prose into a beautiful and intricate tapestry, in the style and format of Bayeux but representing and reflecting contemporary and traditional folkways, illustrating with great emotion the many ways to die that my life's work had articulated. And I showed it around, to galleries and tapestry enthusiasts and, later, simply passers-by, and said look at this, understand it, and no one you love will die, of these things, anyway, and perhaps if we were to continue this project together they would not die at all, not until they reach the very limit of human mortality and succumb sweetly and entirely at peace to old age. And they all looked at it in disgust and they said we hate it, it's ugly, it is the product of a neurotic and unstable mind. And I said you have to read it if you want to live. How do you not get that. You must read it if you want to live. Many of the specific ways to die were now forgotten to me, the totality being the more important meaning for me to recall, but still I believed in every one of them individually and knew they were true and I was right. You must to understand that if you want to live.]

new story COMING UP WITH A COMPLETE LIST OF WAYS TO DIE. important for you to read this. please like and subscribe on substack

[novemberdevils]

OH MY GOD necer mind that I will not annoy I actually I will because I somehow forgot the main point of me coming here to talk about the fic.

THE FUCKING CHARACTERS?? Gushed about the race weekend and forgot the characters, if that isn’t a sign that im an f1 fan I don’t know what is, ANYWAYS. The Ferrari golden boy who is scrutinised by the media for being the person who will bring back glory, to bring them back to where they belong and the redbull star who races to race and not please anyone, who isn’t the Media Darling in the way Jack is and haven’t been told he doesn’t belong in a Place he gave everything to be in simply because he is European, the other Drivers-Poor Checo has lestappen in real life and nicojack here he can never escape the third wheeling allegation- and im glad to see even here the Interviewers are asking stupid questions it’s like a preview for the Las Vegas gp.

I like the way you have written both of them, it’s so true to them that I can picture them as drivers rather than hockey players dress up as drivers-try imagining Jack with a thick neck it so unsettling but so funny 😭😭- I also liked how you have written Carlos so kudos to you for making them believable characters.

also a couple of questions do you have a form of who is leading the championship and the points of the wcc and wdc? If you can and it’s not a bother for you to post them? I have mine but I don’t know how accurate it is because of the whole fastest lap point and who is leading the wcc. Also of you have a calendar because im curious of where each race would fall on what date.

and thank you for forgetting the sprints they are my mortal enemy and I want them GONE

thank you! yes! i'm glad people are liking my characterization of jack and nico lol i had a moment about 50k words into writing it where i thought i might have made a bad call but i wasn't going to go back on it at that point. like maybe i should've made jack the cunty one and nico the one who cares too much about his image but sorry i like writing jack pov fics where he's kind of pathetic about everything. i love you inertia!jack <3 also the Only American thing became very important to my Narrative from the beginning which meant i was lowkey limited on which nhl players i could stick on the grid. that's why there's about a million canadians. i have a whole grid but idk if i've actually made it clear who all is driving and for what teams... it is a mix of real life f1 drivers and nhl players. and me making shit up. it's a mess

i also have a half-assed indy grid in my brain. more of it may come to light through the eyes of trevor and also jack gives more of a fuck about indy than he should (bc i also really liked indy when i was into racing lmao this is a Very self-indulgent fic)

I LOVE MAKING THE FAKE REPORTERS ASK DUMB QUESTIONS it amuses me greatly. and it will continue. they're all dumb

carlos is so unneccessarily fun to write. how apparent is it that i've been writing it so jack Exclusively refers to him as 'sainz' in narration when he's mad at him. ferrari is beefing like 62% of the time

and to answer your question i will be So real i have a very detailed spreadsheet of nico and jack's points but everyone else is a great big mystery. the lengths i had to go through to do the top 5 after suzuka (iirc it was suzuka?) was honestly ridiculous i should go through and write down at least the positions i've already canonized in the fic bc i'm kind of just trusting no one will surpass jack or nico in a way i haven't explicity planned for. wcc i have no idea i do know red bull was leading for a bit there after carlos did an incident with bedard but then i lost my marbles for it. in all fairness i literally Forgot russell won in suzuka until i was reading the chapter back... like what was that. he has too many points i think. i will say i really only bring up fastest lap when it's relevant (like either nico and jack get the point, or i think i had jack ask about a fastest lap point and someone else had it?) and other than that idk who got it. but point is if i don't specify who got the point it 100% wasn't jack or nico. they're busy

yeah my bad on the sprints but i don't miss them. i think it would have been too much anyways, now that i'm super deep into writing the fic. by super deep i do mean 100k words. godspeed