#to be fair. it had nothing to do with the lack of healing and everything to do with me not double checking if my guys were actually going | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shakingparadigm · 11 months ago

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Seeing all those analysis posts about how Till liked Mizi because she was gentle while not giving the same attention to Ivan because he wasn't... how Ivan might have made Till uncomfortable because he expressed his admiration for Till through violence because he liked how Till had the courage to fight back...

I was wandering if Ivan ever realized that the way he went about showing his feelings wasn't positive for Till and he fucking did. "I wish I had been kinder" he fucking regrets dude, fuck me man.

(This veered wildly off-topic I am so sorry.)

Coming back to this ask after the most recent R6 update is interesting.

I've always wondered why they chose the title Cure in particular. I was expecting a song title along the lines of Star or something abyssal. Then I thought about Till's affiliation with experiments and drugs and the various ways he was hurt. Cure... It also brings to mind how the content for Ivan highlights his "oddness", how he's framed as someone different, almost wrong in a sense. There's something that he lacks, something that he feels the need to fix, to cure.

In the recent ROUND 6 production post, the true meaning is revealed. You're right on a certain level, but as always, it's complicated.

Both Ivan and Till seek a certain type of "healing", maybe to compensate for their pain, their oddness and their loneliness. They wish to be cured of their suffering somehow and they seek the solution in other people.

QMENG states that Till desires a type of healing that Ivan cannot provide, and vice versa.

It goes without saying, pretty common knowledge at this point, but Till is a lot softer under his rebellious front. As someone who's been beat and abused his whole life, it makes sense that that type of love he'd want is something gentler, something stable. It's incredibly obvious in the way he acts towards Mizi. She's so genuine, so bright, untainted by the cruel reality of the world. Till softens around her, since she has only showed him kindness he in turn shows her the sweetest side of himself. He's had nothing stable to cling onto before, so he immediately becomes attached to this idealized version of Mizi. He believes she's the only person who can provide him with what he needs, the only one who can "heal" him.

It's outright stated that Ivan cannot provide that type of "healing" that Till is looking for. Ivan does try, of course. Unfortunately, he lacks something fundamental. Because of this he expresses himself in rather childish ways, which may involve a little cruelty and attention-seeking. A lot of Ivan's actions are muddled by his complicated feelings as well, as its stated that his true emotions and intentions are difficult to grasp. With Till, Ivan wants to save and be saved, hurt and heal him, keep him and set him free. Live for him and die for him. He criticizes Sua on the ethics of self-sacrifice and then goes on to do the same himself. With Ivan, everything contradicts.

He tries desperately to be the cure that Till needs, but due to his incredibly complex nature that "healing" will never be just healing. It may come with more pain and confusion despite his best efforts.

I don't think Till refused to give Ivan attention because he wasn't gentle enough, rather I think it's because everything was so complicated whenever Ivan was involved. Ivan is there for him in his times of need and causes a fair bit of trouble during the rest. He's strange and hard to grasp, but he's familiar. Calling each other "friends" seemed like such an inadequate label because they're simultaneously too close and not close enough. Ivan does wish he was kinder, though. Not only to Till, but to Sua and most likely a few other people as well. There's a lot of aspects in which Ivan wishes he were different, and it's tragic to hear how he deprecates himself in his final moments for it.

There's the second half of QMENG's statement as well, "vice versa". Till cannot provide what Ivan needs either, but Ivan desperately desires it anyway.

Ivan views Till as his cure. He wants to not only "heal" Till, but to be healed by him as well. This desire can be seen in the lyrics of Cure:

Notice my pain

And mend me right now

To quiet my fears

I'll drown in you

(The wish for "healing" is stated.)

In your gaze, where I’m seen

Consume me, yes, me, oh, oh

(Ivan urges Till to "consume" him like medicine, he wishes to be what Till needs.)

Ivan lacks something, and he believes that Till can make up for that lack which is why he's so fascinated by him. If Ivan is a black abyss, Till is a supernova, bringing life to an empty void. Unfortunately, Till is explosive and rather inept at handling his own extreme emotions, which causes him to either lash out violently or retreat further inward and push Ivan away. He's also a thoroughly destructive and hurt individual, seeking his own cure in another form. He cannot provide what Ivan needs.

Both Ivan and Till are incredibly volatile. That's not to say they don't have their gentler sides, but overall they've been doomed from the start. Ultimately it's no fault of theirs, they did what they could with their complicated feelings and fought through their own respective hells.

In the end, Ivan had to come to terms with the fact that he couldn't get the "healing" he needed and could never be what Till needed, either. That's why he finally acted on his impulses and let his complicated feelings win over, resulting in his death. Despite all the heartache, his final thoughts are a statement of gratitude. Truly a tragedy.

#eughh sorry for all that anon. thank you for the ask!#i dont even know if this is coherent anymore im sorry #alnst #alien stage #alien stage ivan #alien stage till #ivantill #alien stage round 6 #asks

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talonabraxas · 2 months ago

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“He, He is the God too great to have a name ! He is the inapparent and He is the very apparent. He who the intellect contemplates ! He is also the one seen by the eyes. He is the incorporeal, the multiform, better still, the omniform. Nothing exists which He is not, for everything that exist, everything is Him. From that comes that He has all names, for all things come forth from this unique father. From that comes that He has no name at all, for He is the father of all things.” (ibid)

Amun – An Aurora Filled Sky Talon Abraxas

Amun (Amen, Amon) was the king of the gods. The name means ‘The Hidden One’.

Amun is most commonly shown entirely in human form. Often he is standing or sitting on a throne wearing a red, flat-topped crown with two tall plumes and holding a sceptre in his hand. Amun can also assume the appearance of a ram, his sacred animal. His sacred colours were blue, red, yellow and green and his images are to be found throughout the Nile Valley.

The enormous temple complex of Karnak was the principal home of Amun where he was worshiped as the prominent divine entity. During the New Kingdom, his popularity eclipsed that of other major deities; he was the ‘king of the gods’. The warrior-god Montu was believed to be a manifestation of Amun. A Theban triad consisted of Amun, his wife Mut, and their offspring Khonsu, the moon god. All three had temples at Karnak.

Amun is a god whose attributes are so extensive it lacks the personality of other deities. His role as creator is emphasised in many hymns. He was believed to be self-generated. As a fertility god, he impregnated his mother, the Celestial Cow, to ensure the fecundity of animals and plants. He was closely involved with kingship, and many pharaohs regarded themselves as one of his incarnations and incorporated his name into their own (Tut-ankh-amun).

Amun was also seen as the divine consort of Egyptian queens (‘god’s wife of Amun‘). Queen Hatshepsut (right) presented herself as an offspring of the god during a visit to her mother. His virile strength made him an appropriate deity for ensuring military victory for the pharaoh. Amun was invoked for healing from the bites of dangerous animals and other illnesses. During the New Kingdom, he was a personal-saviour god of ordinary working people, as numerous devotional stele testify. Amun later became synchronised with Re to become Amun-Re.

Many catastrophist writers have attempted to give physical identity to Amun by placing him in the world of chaos. One of the most widespread identifications is the linking of Amun with Jupiter. This is because Jupiter is the largest planet in the solar system and, since Amun was referred to as the ‘king of the gods’, Amun must therefore be Jupiter. This is an unsatisfactory explanation and exhibits a lack of knowledge about the ancient world. How could ancient people possibly know that Jupiter was the largest planet? From Earth it is a mere speck of light in the night sky. It is not even the brightest ‘star’. Excluding the Sun and Moon, the brightest light in the sky is Venus – why wasn’t Venus deemed king of the gods? What of the bright star Saturn or even Mars? If Amun was Jupiter, how do we explain Amun’s tall feathery plumes, his sacred colours, his syncretism with Re (Amun-Re) and epithets such as ‘one whose true form could never be known’? How can any of these apply to Jupiter?

Egyptologists fair no better. They understand Amun’s role in connection with the monarchy, but what is the meaning behind his strange plumes and curious epithets? Their best explanation is to present him as a solar deity – once again they point to the Sun.

The key to physically identifying and understanding Amun lies with his unusual, tall plumes and the colours contained within. They were direct representations of magical celestial lights that were observed the world over in ancient times – a phenomenon we call the Aurora.

The Aurora

The auroras are the Aurora Borealis (Northern Lights) and the Aurora Australis (Southern Lights).

Auroras are striking displays of coloured lights that are often seen over the Earth’s magnetic poles. They occur when the solar wind particles are trapped by the Earth’s magnetic field so they collide with molecules of air in the upper atmosphere (ionosphere). They are a spectacular sight and take the form of rapidly shifting patches of colour and dancing columns of light of various hues. The colours observed depend on several factors such as atmospheric conditions, intensity of the solar wind, temperature and location. The Aurora is always present in almost every area of the sky, but it is usually too faint to be seen except near the North and South Poles. The main colours of the Aurora are blue, yellow, red and green, the very same colours attributed to Amun.

The intensity of the Aurora is dictated by the solar wind, a stream of electrically charged particles from the Sun. When the solar wind blows exceptionally strong, the Aurora increases. The periods of maximum and minimum intensity of the Aurora coincide almost exactly with those of the sunspot cycle, which is an 11-year cycle. When the Sun is in the active phase it can unleash powerful magnetic storms that disable satellites, threaten astronaut safety, and even disrupt communication systems on Earth.

In March 1989, the Sun unleashed a tempest that knocked out power to all of Quebec, Canada, leaving six million people without electricity. Such intense magnetic storms cause spectacular, widespread auroras, even at latitudes as low as Mexico, which is 23 degrees north (similar latitude to Egypt).

As mentioned above 3,000 years ago, at the height of planetary chaos solar activity was far more intense than anything experienced today. Cosmic catastrophe gave way to intense geomagnetic storms and global auroras – seen at all latitudes day and night. They were observed during the day courtesy of the red Sun which gave rise to a twilight world. These shimmering magical lights were personified in the great god Amun.

Hymn to Amun

“Amun, who developed in the beginning, whose origin is unknown. No god came into being prior to Him. No other god was with Him who could say what He looked like. He had no mother who created His name. He had no father to beget Him or to sa: “This belongs to me.” Who formed His own egg. Power of secret birth, who created His (own) beauty. Most Divine God, who came into being alone. Every god came into being since He began Himself. Every being came into being when His being began being. There is nothing outside Him.” (Praise of Amun in the Decree for Nesikhonsu) “None of the gods knows His true form, His image is not unfolded in the papyrus rolls, nothing certain is testified about Him.”

Hymns to Amun, Papyrus Leiden I 350, chapter 200, lines 22- 24.

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mlm-writer · 1 year ago

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Old Friend (Geralt x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Show!Geralt of Rivia x Gender Neutral Reader (can be interpreted as platonic or romantic) Rating: Mature Words: 1670 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 21 - “I did what I had to do to protect those I love… I had no choice!” Note: Don't @ me for still posting things that were supposed to come out in October. Tags: angst, mention of Ciri & Yennefer, ft. Jaskier & Milva, murder and dark magic

Everyone would agree that Ciri was an unlucky girl with a life tainted by tragedy. Every time you spoke with her about her past, you felt a little pang in your heart. However, sometimes you envied her. The way Geralt reserved his warmest of smiles for his charge, the way the most powerful sorceress spent her time teaching Ciri and the power Ciri possessed sometimes made you feel like she was, in some way, a very lucky girl.

You spent life on the run with Ciri, Geralt and Yennefer. Most of the time you felt like you were family, sometimes you felt like an extra, an unnecessary weight, but no one told you to leave. You had nothing to teach Ciri that Geralt and Yennefer couldn’t. They had it covered from sword to spells to alchemy.

Then things kept going to shit and before you knew it, Geralt was flirting with death and Ciri was missing. You wanted to go find her, but Yennefer insisted you stayed with Geralt. “You can heal anything!” Geralt exclaimed as you exhausted yourself once more. He was capable of loud verbal abuse. You should’ve counted that as a win, but it was hard to, when Geralt was still bed-bound.

“I’m doing everything I can!” You yelled back. Milva entered, her hand landing on your shoulder. It has been the same song over and over again ever since Jaskier revealed Ciri was on her way to Nilfgaard. Geralt proceeded to demand more of you. Milva forced you out. Jaskier was waiting for you with a brew of herbs that would help you recover your strength. “I’m really doing everything I can,” you sobbed by the fire.

Jaskier put his arm around you, comforting you the best he could. “I know. He knows. He is just… Geralt.” You leaned against the bard, letting his body’s warmth seep into yours. You sat by the fire until it got dark. Jaskier eventually let you be to mull over your thoughts in peace. When you had the strength you used your magic on those that did appreciate it. You were weak, but even a little was for many enough to pull their foot out of the grave.

Exhaustion gnawed at your bones. Your muscles felt like they were weighed down by the state of the world. You took a stroll out of the camp, trying to avoid Jaskier and Milva. They meant well, but their words were not enough to distract you from the power you lacked.

When the lights of the camp were far behind you, you stopped walking. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, knees colliding with the muddy ground of the forest. From a secret pocket sewn into the coat you’ve had for over two decades, you procured an amulet you haven’t worn since you met Geralt all those years ago. The deep red gem reflected the light of the moon onto your eyes. Deep within the stone you could see an old friend. You promised Geralt you’d throw this trinket away; you promised you would never give in to temptation again, but despair had forced you quite literally to your knees. You clenched the charm tightly in your fist. “All is fair in love and war,” you whispered as you stared down at your fist, noticing how red light seeped between your fingers. “These are times of war and… I love him.”

Those words spoken aloud strengthened your resolve. You closed your eyes as you put the thin golden chain over your head, letting the amulet fall right where your heart was. As soon as that metal hit your chest, you felt an old friend occupying your mind once more. “I always knew you’d come back,” it told you. It gave you visions of how to help Geralt. The methods dancing on the grey moral spectrum, but led by these visions, you made your way back to the camp. You entered the tents of the sleeping patients you had helped earlier. You touched those that you didn’t think would make it to the morning. Their life force entered through your fingertips. They breathed their final breath. You felt the weak energy pooling together. One tent, two, three, you passed though the whole camp, taking what you needed from those that were not likely to hold onto it for long anyway. Each time you took, darkness rose to your skin, revealing your deeds in the night.

Your veins had turned black by the time you entered the final tent. Geralt was fast asleep as well, too injured to even hear you entering, too unwell to open his eyes and ask you what you were doing there. A black tear rolled down your cheek as you placed your hand on his chest and let go of all the energy you had collected. The life energy of the people that died that night flowed from your chest down to your fingertips. In his sleep, Geralt inhaled deeply as the energy filled him. It only took a moment, but it felt like an eternity as you felt the weight of the lives you took to save the one most dear to you.

When you were devoid of all the energy but your own, you collapsed on the ground, legs too tired to keep you up. You took deep breaths, trying to avoid looking at your hands. However, in the end you just needed to know how bad things were. You raised your palms, the sight - though expected - still horrifying. Your skin had blackened from the dark magic. Your hands felt fine though. “You did well. This is only the beginning of what we can achieve. You’re meant to take what you please,” the old friend’s voice echoed through your skull. The words were reassuring, but you knew all too well where things could lead. You reached for the amulet, ready to rip it off you. “You need me. Without me you’re useless. You can’t protect the ones you love.”

Geralt had you once believe otherwise, but it only took one glance towards him to show you where his faith in you had led him to. Even the great White Wolf could be wrong sometimes. Defeated, you slowly let go of the amulet, allowing it to occupy its old spot. “Everything will be fine. You will be fine,” the being spoke through the amulet to you. You had heard those words a million times from Jaskier, but only now did they actually soothe you.

The next morning you woke up from stirring on the bed. You hadn’t dared to leave the tent and slept on a chair. “Geralt,” you whispered, aware of your surroundings the moment your ears picked up on the rustling of blankets. You forgot what you looked like, immediately rising from the chair and joining Geralt at his side. You inspected the wound on his leg, but it was not there anymore, a new scar adorning his skin.

Your eyes didn’t meet Geralt’s until he sat up on his own. “What did you do?” His voice dripped of venom. You lifted your head to meet his yellow eyes, darkened by the deeply furrowed eyebrows. Your throat felt tight, so tight that not a single syllable could make it through to the cold space between you and the Witcher. He called your name and reached out. You were frozen in place as his calloused fingers traced the black marks on your face. “What did you do?” He repeated the question, emphasising each word with urgency.

Black tears pooled in your eyes, the first few already rolling down your cheeks by the time you found your voice once more. “I did what I had to do to protect those I love…” You swallowed a lump in your throat. “I had no choice.” Your voice trembled, each word shaking more than the previous one.

Geralt was visibly seething as he grabbed your arm, his grip tight. “What did you do?” He demanded, voice booming in the small space. You tried to free yourself.

“Geralt, please, you’re hurting me!” “Say it!”

He knew you. He knew you from the moment he met you. He knew the person you could be once you gave up on your ‘old friend’. He knew what you did then and he knew what you did last night. He knew, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted to have mistaken that familiar amulet around your neck. However, things were exactly as it seemed and just like things never changed, Jaskier and Milva came in right on que.

Jaskier called out for Geralt, tried to calm him. He immediately commented on how he seemed to be better, proceeded to ask how. Meanwhile, Milva freed you of Geralt’s grip. A crowd had formed at the entrance, but you couldn’t see anyone in the room but Geralt. “How many have died tonight?” Geralt demanded to know, Jaskier and Milva now in between you two. They tried to calm him. “How many?” He roared.

His fury eventually ripped the answer out of you. “I don’t know! I only took from those that were not likely to make it to the morning anyway.”

“Jaskier…” Geralt’s voice was quieter now he got his answer from you. He turned to the bard. “How many people died tonight?” Jaskier turned to Milva, hoping she held the answer.

“42,” she spoke with surprising steadiness. She then looked at you, shaming you with her eyes alone. She was not the only one who despised your existence after that night. Jaskier pleaded for your life, then left with Geralt to find Ciri. You had to go your own way, fend for yourself once more. If it wasn’t for your aching heart, it was like you never met the Witcher at all. He never wanted to see you again, but even as you walked with your backs facing each other, you felt like you would see him again. It was a funny thing… destiny.

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure!A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!

#gender neutral reader #male reader #the witcher #the witcher s3 #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x male reader #geralt x gender neutral reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x gender neutral reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #the witcher fic #dandelion #jaskier #milva

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drpoisonoaky · 1 year ago

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Therapy homework, fire siblings edition

Azula and Zuko have to share moments from their childhood in order to heal their relationship (therapy homework), even as they are there for each other.

In my own personal Azula’s redemption arc, Zuko is there helping her sister in the same way he got help.

So they talk about everything because they’re healing and they need to do it.

[Turtle ducks]

Zuko: I think those two are playing together.

Azula: Or they’re fighting to decide who will become the Turtle Lord.

Zuko: Don’t project your trauma onto turtle ducks.

Azula: I was not. It’s a very real and possible situation in the turtle duck world.

Zuko: I am going to ignore that because I was wondering why you hate them.

Azula: I don’t hate them.

Zuko: You threw rocks at them every time we were here.

Azula:

Zuko: What?

Azula: That we never included me, you know? It was more like “Mom and Zuko and, oh, Azula is here”.

Azula: So I guess I want my mother to give me attention, and my child brain said “Let’s make chaos”.

Zuko: Oh… I’m sorry I…I never thought about it that way.

Azula: Don’t punish yourself Zuzu. We were children. It wasn’t your job.

Zuko: But now we can feed them together, right? No rocks, only bread.

Azula: You really are a softie. It’s annoying.

Zuko: Let’s take the bread.

[Children]

Zuko: Do you want kids?

Azula: Not really. You do?

Zuko: One. Only one.

Azula: Did I traumatize you Zuzu?

Zuko: Yes, but no. If I had a kid, I want to focus on them, giving them all of my love and support. Being the Firelord and doing that for more than one child it’s impossible.

Azula: Oh, you really think about this… I hate to say it, but you would be a great dad.

Zuko: Thanks. I appreciate it. Why don't you?

Azula: First of all, it would have to be adopted, so the kid comes with baggage. And with my baggage, I probably couldn’t be there as much as the kid needs. It’s not fair to them. I can’t put the happiness of some child behind my own selfishness.

Zuko: Cool aunt?

Azula: I’m going to spoil your child so much that they’ll be as insufferable as you are.

Zuko: Of course you will.

[Fire resistance]

Katara: Hey firebenders, I have a question. Do you really resist fire better by nature or…?

Azula: Yes and no.

Zuko: I mean, look at my face.

Katara: That’s why I’m asking. Why do you resist less than ‘Zula? I swear she could be on fire and not notice.

Azula: We didn’t have the same training. Mother stopped Ozai a lot for the both of us. But when she was gone…

Zuko: I was banished when he started his fire resistance methods…

Katara: but ‘Zula don’t.

Azula: I was burned every day in every place except the face. Well, you saw the marks.

Sokka: Why not the face?

Suki: Don’t be rude.

Azula: It was because I was a princess after all, and you know we had to be pretty and perfect.

Katara: And how do you get high pain tolerance from that?

Azula: I guess some nerves died along the way or maybe my brain learned to ignore that kind of pain…I don’t know.

Azula: I hate him, but in battle it’s really useful. But yeah, don’t try it at home, kids.

Sokka: So if we try to burn your fac-

Katara: Don’t you dare, asshole.

[Crying]

Katara: Did they cry much when they were babies?

Azula: I bet Zuzu was insufferable.

Zuko: I was a pretty nice baby.

Ursa: You were nice, but you cried a lot.

Azula: See.

Ursa: And you weren't nice at all, young lady. But truth to be told, she didn’t cry.

Zuko: Lack of emotions, I see.

Azula: Not dumbass, it was for the balance between you and me.

Katara: She didn’t cry at all? What would happen if she was hungry or hurt herself?

Ursa: She just waited.

Azula: Of course I did that, crying change nothing. Plus, it wasn’t allowed.

Zuko: What do you mean?

Azula: Oh right, that was one of the points of our “educational differences”.

Ursa: Azula?

Azula:

Katara: Azula?

Azula: Fine.

Azula: Father didn’t really like the tears. He said that water isn’t something that should exist around a firebender. So I didn’t cry.

Katara: …but what if you did by any chance?

Azula, smiling sadly: He turned into my personal dryer. Goodbye tears.

Ursa: *gasp* But when you were a child he neve-

Azula: Don’t worry mother… It's not your fault.

Zuko: We should try to cry together anytime you want. As a therapy exercise, of course.

Azula: I-…thanks Zuzu.

Katara: And I hope he knows that you are around water all the time and he can’t do shit.

Azula: Of course master Katara, best master water bender of all times.

Zuko: Mom, we should go. They had started their own weird flirting thing.

Katara:

Azula:

Katara: What are you waiting for? Keep going.

[Compliments]

Aang: I know It’s none of my business, but I was wondering why some compliments make you look awkward but on the opposite sides. *Points at Azula and Zuko*

Zuko: What do you mean?

Aang: Like Azula takes it so well when we say something nice about her bending or her looks but she’s weird when it’s not about that. And you get so weird when we compliment your looks or your bending. Like a yin and yang kinda thing.

Azula: Easy. I was praised for everything Zuko isn’t.

Aang: What do you mean?

Azula: I’m a prodigy and a princess. Being an excellent firebender and looking pretty at the same time is or was my job. Zuzu is a mediocre firebender, under Father’s eyes, and he burned half of his face.

Zuko: And ‘Zula never was praised for being anything else.

Aang: But that’s awful.

Azula: I didn’t need to be anything apart from that, Zuko was banished. That’s life.

Sokka: No, it’s not. Your father it’s a piece of shit.

Katara: And I hope we never see him again. No offense.

Azula and Zuko: None taken.

[Giving Affection]

Katara, fidgeting with the hem of her tunic: I don’t know if it’s awkward to ask you that.

Zuko: …Go on.

Katara: Okay, so when you get out of the fire nation. Do you flinch?

Zuko: …Did I flinch?

Katara: General affection.

Zuko: Not really. My mother used to hug me a lot and you know Iroh.

Katara: …and who hugged Azula?

Zuko: Mom before disappearing, I guess? Me on some special days. I don’t know if our father ever did that.

Azula: Neither of them. Did you go to Zuzu to get information about me?

Katara: I want to know “your background” from another point of view.

Azula: I hate that that is a logical move. But to answer that, maybe Ty Lee was the only one. And you know Mai.

Zuko: Didn’t Mom hug you?

Azula: Do you remember that little detail that mother hated me?

Zuko: She didn’t ha-

Azula: Don’t. Please. We already passed that point.

Katara: So it’s decided.

Azula: What?

Katara: I’m now your personal koala, whether you want it or not. Come here.

Azula: But you do more things…

Zuko: And that’s my cue to get out of here.

[Education]

Aang: Wait, really, you know it all?

Azula: Of course, it was part of my education. I need to know history, especially anything related to war, but knowledge is knowledge.

Aang: But Zuko didn’t know anything about the Air Nomads' history.

Azula: We didn’t have the same education.

Zuko: Basically because Azula is a nerd.

Azula: Excuse me.

Zuko: After you did your homework, you started to read about everything, especially history. That’s why.

Aang: So she's more prepared than you.

Azula: I am. While Zuzu cried, I trained or focused on my studies. Time is gold in war.

Katara: You didn’t rest?

Azula: Not really, but sometimes I needed to rest in order to continue.

Zuko: No you don’t. You can’t count that as resting.

Aang: What, why?

Zuko: It’s not my call. Sorry. But you should explain it ‘Zula.

Katara: Azula?

Azula: What Zuzu means is that the “rest days” weren’t really optional.

Aang: Oh, they force you to rest?

Azula: Not exactly…I have to rest because I couldn’t move. Training wasn’t always…educational.

Zuko: Call it what it was. That shitty excuse of man made us fight against him and beat us until we faint.

Aang: Spirits.

Zuko: And I guess me being gone didn’t make him less reckless…

Azula: Quite the opposite…that’s why learning was fun.

Azula: But anyways Zuzu you should learn that so from now on I’m going to teach you history, physics and math. Be aware.

Zuko: Only if we take rest days. Real ones.

Azula: Don’t be lazy.

[Wake up time]

Katara: I can’t beat Azula.

Sokka: But you did remember…Oh, spirits, don’t tell me is a dirty-

Katara: NO.

Katara: Also not in that way, dummy. I can’t get up earlier than her. It's like every time I wake up early and say “Wow, today I really got up early” she’s already awake and meditating or something.

Ty lee: I tried for a week. Then I got tired.

Mai: It’s a losing battle. You can’t beat them.

Katara: Wait, does Zuko also wake up early?

Mai: Every day, like if he makes the sun or something.

Azula, arriving from sparring with Zuko: Talking behind my back isn’t new, but still hurts a little.

Zuko: Same.

Katara: Why do you wake up so early? Both of you.

Azula, raising an eyebrow: Why do you ask?

Zuko: Why do you wake up so late?

Katara: Don’t answer a question with a question. Both of you don’t know the concept of oversleeping or even slacking. Why?

Zuko: What are you ta-…Oh.

Zuko: Lala, do you remember the “If you wake up after the sun…

Azula: …how do you pretend to use his flames”.

Katara: Oh no.

Mai:

Ty lee: That jerk.

Zuko: So we have to stop.

Azula: I’m going to knock myself out every morning, I swear.

Zuko: Same.

Katara: Or instead of me waking up next to my unconscious girlfriend, you could try not getting out of bed.

Zuko: You mean stay in bed until the sun is up so we can train later?

Katara: I mean yeah. At least until you wake up like a regular human being.

Sokka: But that would imply they are regular human beings and we-AH STOP.

Azula, shooting little lightning at him: Sorry what?

Zuko, burning his butt: We are having difficulties hearing you.

Sokka: KATARA HELP YOU BROTHER.

Katara, ignoring Sokka and talking to Mai and Ty lee: So you two also like to wake up late?

Sokka: KATARA.

Ty lee: Yes, but it doesn’t fit the Kyoshi Warriors’ lifestyle. And that makes Suki angry with me, a lot.

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drabblesandimagines · 2 years ago

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400 requests!!!!! clive x fem!reader with the roles reversed in the ending scene? HEHEH WANNA SEE CLIVE CRY😭🫶

Thank you, anon! Enjoy this angst-fest x

Regrets Clive Rosfield x fem reader, angst Major endgame spoilers(ish)

Your head is thudding, bones aching, as the world swims into focus above you. It takes time to register where you are as you brush your fingers through the sand, the ringing in your ears dulling enough until you can hear the waves lapping on the shore.

You’re still not sure of where you are, but you do remember where you were – looking up into the sky to see that Origin has disintegrated.

Four of you had set out there, determined to finish Ultima once and for all – the Phoenix, Bahamut, Ifrit and Leviathan. There had been tension between you and Clive in the lead-up. You knew he did not want you to go, but you did not want him to take on the powers of the lost Eikon either. It was almost as if the two of you knew there would never be a winner to the argument if it had begun, so it had remained unspoken.

You’d been separated in the fight, but everything is hazy in your memory and given how far you’d fallen, is that truly a surprise?

You sit up, cautiously, trying to gauge your surroundings when you see it - a body - further along the shore and your heart stops.

Clive.

An attempt to get up to your feet is made but your legs are no longer up to the task, so you crawl, desperately, on your hands and knees until you reach his side. His eyes are closed, but he’s breathing. You place your palm on his cheek and his eyes fly open to meet yours as he forces a smile.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” you breathe out. “Is it…?”

“It’s done,” he holds his arm aloft then, a flicker of a flame dancing in his palm before it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. His limb stiffens in its wake and your stomach flips – he’s taken on too much power, even for the so-called vessel, and the curse is progressing before your very eyes.

No. No, this isn’t fair. Not Clive. The world needs Clive.

Something stirs in your stomach – not as strong as it once was, but there all the same.

You keep your palm on his cheek, grit your teeth and try to connect with what lies beneath the surface. Aether floods through your veins, Leviathan the Lost is permitting you one last gift, and you know what you must do.

You lift a leg – somehow - over the expanse of his chest, gingerly placing your weight down upon him, a bitter tang of regret that it isn’t a different scenario. His face flushes, confusion on his brow as you then place your other hand to his cheek, cupping his face. “What…?” Clive wonders if you’re going to kiss him – something he wishes he’d done a million times before now, but a moment later he realizes it’s not intended as a loving embrace. Light begins to slowly envelope him and his eyes widen in horror.

“No,” he shakes his head, lacking the strength to sit up and push you off of him, one hand already too petrified for him to pull your hand off his cheek. The healing warmth trickles across his body as if water itself. “No, don’t. Please.”

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, stroking your thumb across his jaw.

“Stop. No, you can’t do this,” his voice breaks, thick with tears. “I lost Joshua. I can’t lose you too, not like this. Please.”

“Maybe I can’t escape my fate, but I can help you to escape yours.”

“No.” He protests. “I don’t want to live without you, I can’t-“

A surge of aether surrounds the two of you then and it only takes a few seconds for his petrified limb to return to a flushed pink, at the same time as your fingers begin to stiffen upon his face.

“I love you.” You whisper, and then it is as if the strength leaves your body and transfers into his own, the aether surrounding you fading away into nothing. There’s a horrible, seizing pain in your chest, stealing every other breath and you collapse down on top of him.

There’s an odd feeling too, deep down in your stomach, but you know what it is - Leviathan is gone.

Clive sits up, cradling you in his lap as more and more of your body stiffens with petrification. He presses soft, frantic kisses to your cheeks amidst his pleas. “Please, stay with me – there’s so much I didn’t say, so much I should’ve said.”

You want to say something – anything – to reassure him but your tongue is rigid behind your teeth, so you can only stare up at him, wishing you could brush the tears from his face.

“I love you so much, sweet one. I am a fool for not saying it all those years ago and every day since,” his voice is raw, holding back a sob to get his words out. “For not taking your hand and showing you just how much you mean to me. I thought… I thought it could wait, I thought we’d have more time.”

He leans down, tilting his head awkwardly to line up with yours, your neck now petrified in place. “I love you. I will always love you, my darling.” Clive presses his lips to yours, kissing you at last as your eyes close and you kiss back with your very last breath.

He opens his eyes as he pulls back but he knows you’re already gone, a stiff weight in his arms, your face set as if you are sleeping. Clive sobs - a guttural sound, almost inhuman, emerging deep from his chest and he finds it hard to breathe as his grief consumes his whole being. The tears are unstoppable as he rocks your body back and forth, presses his cheek against yours, no longer to your soft skin but rough, cold stone.

Dawn comes, the clouds that had lingered over Valisthea finally clearing, followed by the midday sun, yet still Clive remains, cradling you in his arms, pleading to the empty heavens for you to return.

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #clive rosfield x you #clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield angst

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ariadne-mouse · 2 years ago

Text

For the combination of two prompts:

"headache relief" and "a truly abysmal cup of tea"

Shadowgast, rated G, hurt/comfort, 833 words

Essek's visits to Caleb's cottage in Rexxentrum were brief, and precious; despite their shared expertise in dunamancy, there never seemed to be enough time. And so when Essek arrived one windy spring morning, but could not concentrate on their shared research, and shied away with a wince from the meager light filtering through the shuttered windows, Caleb felt even more urgency to remedy whatever ailed him. Not just so that Essek would be well, but because these narrow hours were all they had to express the full spectrum of anything and everything they might have to say to each other.

There was Sending, yes, and Essek was talented in layering many things into few words. But Caleb found he yearned to make and share space, and to see the gallery of Essek’s expressions play across his sharp-toothed mouth, his elegant brows, his clever eyes.

This pained, stubborn expression was a new one on his dear friend, and Caleb cataloged it feverishly in his memory even as he sought its antidote.

"It's nothing," Essek demurred, when Caleb pressed. "A slight headache."

"Do you need to rest? You are very welcome to--"

"I did not come here to sleep," Essek cut him off, then shook his head at the suggestive implication, waving it away as if it was a bothersome fly, then winced at both sudden motions. "I am here so we can revise the second runic config-" he broke off with a hiss and rubbed his temple.

"Essek," Caleb half-chided, half-pleaded. "What can I do? I have healing potions. Or do you need Jester?"

"Oh, no — please, no."

In fairness, he was probably right. Despite her capacity for healing, Jester might very well simultaneously increase the headache in some other way, bright and loud and well-intentioned.

Essek reached for a quill and a spare parchment from their research and jotted down a list, and a set of notes, his eyes squinting, his shoulders a scrunched line of weary tension. He offered this to Caleb, ink still wet, letters running rudely together. "If you can procure these herbs and prepare them as written, that would be a great help. This... issue... has a particular root cause, and a particular solution."

Caleb burned two teleportations and ten minutes in the city, and another ten minutes in his small kitchen fussing with hot water and dead plants. While he'd been gone, Essek had curled up in an armchair with his feet tucked childishly under himself and his forehead resting on the upholstered arm, eyes closed, breathing slowly and deliberately, flinching when the metal pot clanged on the stove.

The resulting brew was enough to fill one of his homely porcelain teacups, and dark enough to look like it might leave a stain. The smell was cloying, bitter. Essek looked at it with a combination of relief and revulsion. After cooling the steam off it with a curtly-gestured prestidigitation, he lifted it to his lips — markedly hesitated — then downed the whole thing in a few rapid gulps.

"Water, please." He thrust the cup back at Caleb, his face an open snarl of disgust.

The water, quickly procured, vanished with the same hurry and lack of decorum as the tea. Essek slouched back into the overstuffed armchair like he’d just fought a battle. His expression twitched a few more times, nose wrinkling and lips smacking, aftershocks of the taste of the tea.

"And now?" Caleb pitched his voice low. Essek sighed, eyes closing once more. "I wait for it to kick in. Always slower than I would like."

Caleb said nothing, only waited there, his continued presence itself the question.

One of Essek's eyes cracked open, a sliver of violet picking up the dim light. After regarding Caleb blearily, he extended his arm off the edge of the armchair, palm-up and limp, like it was not attached to him. "Press your thumbs to the heel of my hand, if you like."

A simple task for a clever man. Caleb sat leaned forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees, Essek's hand in his, making gentle pressure points and soothing circles, over and over. Over the next quarter hour, the tension in Essek's shoulders and neck eased, and his breathing slowed, and the wrinkle between his brows ebbed away like a ripple of cloud erased by the wind. At some point Caleb moved his ministrations to Essek's other hand, as gentle as the first. It was quiet in the cottage.

"Stop," Essek finally said. "That's enough."

Caleb stopped. "Better?"

"Yes. A bit." Essek sat up, very disheveled still. He did not untuck his feet. He was a cozy lump on the armchair, like a cat woken from a nap.

"Gut,” Caleb smiled. There was a faint imprint of the upholstery on Essek’s cheekbone. “Now, how would you like a cup of tea that doesn't smell like an alchemical mistake? I have many offerings, courtesy of our friend Caduceus."

"Yes," Essek replied, with a ghost of humor returning. "Please."

#thank you sky for the prompts!#i went with some nice simple comfort vibes #the tea is inspired by the iron supplement I have to take #it's truly godawful and I make faces every time I drink it #tumblr snippets #shadowgast #critical role #op #ariadne writes CR

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cryptidclaw · 1 year ago

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Sorry if this is weird to ask you but with the talk of queens (abt them being treated lesser and weirdly in general, which I totally agree with) I was hoping to get some input on an idea for my own rewrite.

Reading the books, I just kept asking myself "Why should they have to be shipped into a den for six months to care for them all on their own when theres tons of cats, especially their mates, who can and should be helping so that they didn't have to drop everything else abt their lives and hobbies for so long just because they had kids? Why is it that she loses so much about herself but her mate can stay a warrior and have nothing to do with parenting and that's okay? How come being a mother is treated like a statement of inability to be in power? (Bluestar and Leafstar, for example). Why does she lose her "warriorhood" like that?"

It's not just that they're treated like their stupid and only thinking about their kids for me, it's also the fact the erins treat parenting like queens (women) are the only ones who can/will/should be involved in parenting. It's unfair to both them and toms, and honestly, to me, it makes more sense for parenting to be communal, much like hunting and patrolling responsibilities are shared. With of course parents still playing a big part.

Essentially, my idea is to just abolish it being a whole job thing like that in my rewrite and have it be a shares responsibilty between everyone (but their parents most importantly). Queens ofc would still get "leave" from other duties while recovering and for nursing, but they don't have that expectation to be the kittens' only caretaker for so long, and their mate(s) would have just as much expectation to be involved as compared to the lack of any expectations of paternal and other-cat-given care in canon.

Oh, and much like the other shared duties that the Clan has, not everyone has to be involved if they don't want to or they just arent good at it. Some cats do more patrolling, some do more hunting, some do more healing (In my thing its not exclusive to a seer), etc, and some do more childcare. It's that simple. But if you choose to have kids then your gonna be involved unless you just aren't a good parent (ex: Rainflower). I think it makes more sense being communal when a big part of the Clans, to me at least, is community, loyalty, and the bonds that keep it together, and that needs to be formed and what better way then to let the kittens learn they can rely on their Clanmates young, and know that they are just as worthy of trust, love, and loyalty as their parents/queen?

And it's not that I see anything wrong with the role of a queen and parenting, promise, I just think it's unfair the expectations always fall on them, and that the erins write fathers like they have no place being fathers in the first place. Also outside of my irritation I just rlly like the idea of the whole clan taking part in raising, playing with, and educating the kittens idk it's just always been cute to me. And like I mentioned before, there are cats who play roles like a perma-queen, and there's nothing wrong with that.

But yeah I just kinda wanted to know if this rlly makes any sense at all/if it's fair 😭 sorry if it's uncomfortable or anything like that

THIS IS EXACTLY HOW I FEEL!!!

this is a BIG reason as to why I added the Caretaker role to RoC as well! Caretakers take on that communal helper role in taking care of kits (as well as the rest of the clan). Queens and their mates should both equally share in the parenting role, and should also get help from others in the clan. also cats literally do this. they communally help in caring for kittens!

so ya! I love your idea of the whole clan helping with caring for the kits! it is just SO much better than the way canon does it.

#cryptid answers #warrior cats #warriors #cryptidclaw's warriors au #rise of change

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burning-fcols · 4 months ago

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"I didn't leave on purpose, you know." An out of nowhere comment spoken in a delirious haze where Alastor found himself near bleeding out in Vox bed once again, his powers still not recovered from his brush with Adam, despite that being months ago. It had been stupid to start the squabble after just so happening to bump into Vox while walking past the front of his tower, whistling a jaunty tune he knew to be one of the TV's old favorites, but this wound had left him itching for violence, it having been too long since he'd been able to really let loose thanks to how slowly his body healed. It was like being human all over again, the threat of dying looming over his head and everything. Only this time he was sure there wasn't another Hell for him to manifest into. To get a second chance in.

He wanted a fight, and for all his posturing, he knew Vox wouldn't kill him, not with the weakened state he was in. That wasn't how they operated, kicking the other while they were down, it not beign any fun in such an unfair fight. Even if given a fair chance, however, Alastor had a feeling Vox wouldn't kill him, and Al almost hated that he could say the same. It would be so very dull without the stupid television around to pester whenever he pleased and knew he was safe doing so, no matter how many claw marks marred his body by the end.

This was only confirmed when Alastor not only woke up in general, but did so in Vox's room. The last he'd remembered their fight had taken them to the roof, and then...nothing. He'd burnt his powers out to the point that his body ached with even the thought of using them to any capacity. He was doing this too often, not giving himself time to heal. If he thought about it too much, he could almost call it a punishment, to be flirting with death like he was.

Slowly fading back into consciousness, Alastor used his radio frequency to find Vox when his body wouldn't respond, the natural hum of what he assumed was this body life force reaching staticy feelers out until pinging off Vox's own buzz. He was there, Al wasn't alone.

Any attempt at talking to Al would only lead to silence, though not from lack of trying. Body so drained, not even his vocal cords would respond beyond an unnatural crackling of dead air whenever he'd tried to speak. So he'd settled for simply using his frequency to communicate, it being buzzed or mellowed in lieu of a yes or no. He'd even panicked when he couldn't feel Vox in the room anymore after waking up from an impromptu nap earlier in the day (or maybe night? He didn't actually know how long he'd been there, and strangely, he was perfectly content to keep it that way until he was able to move again.) While short stretches of his unseen staticy appendage equated to hardly more than an inconvenient cough in terms of pain, when Alastor had reached all the way down to the lobby of the building, he had to suddenly cut the noise as his body protested in the form of throwing up what little he'd managed to eat since first waking up there.

He was pretty sure Vox had been up and at his side in the span of a mere blink, but with how his head throbbed, it very well could have been hours he'd lost to the pain. He still hurt, but it was less of an edge now that he could feel Vox in the room again, it being so much of a comfort, sinking him so deeply into security, he'd blurted out a secret only Husker knew (and that was only because the cat was so damned observant).

He didn't take back his words though, his eyes being set in the direction he was pretty sure Vox was in (when had everything become so fuzzy-) with what one could just barely call a smile on his face. "I was a fool, Vox. A twice damned fool..."

This was dangerous, trying to talk about it so blatantly. Even if he wanted to tell the whole story, he couldn't as part of the deal. Should he try to explain where he had been in earnest, it would feel as if his body was but a voodoo doll being stabbed over and over again. This was a time he didn't care, however, where he fought through the prickly warning beneath his skin. Vox needed to know he hadn't left of purpose, that it hadn't been his choice. He couldn't say why, or maybe he just didn't want to, but he needed his old friend to know.

- ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @hells-fvry 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Alastor's alluring annoying whistling had reached Vox's ears like a siren song, that damned Radio Demon acting like a ghost of the past. Taking every opportunity to haunt him, prodding at the weakness of who he used to be. Dangling the idea of who they he could have been just out of his reach; time and bad blood between them making it an even bigger impossibility than when they were on good terms. Yet Vox can't shed the ingrained bitterness only past hope could spawn, merely seeing Alastor enough to make him spark ( in several ways ) .

Vox used to think there was no personal Hell like when Alastor had gone missing for years but ever since the deer made his ❛ triumphant ❜ return, he's been doing everything in his power to prove Vox wrong. Yet Vox knows that, were he given the choice to go back to that uncertain time, he couldn't. Life without Alastor was... unsatisfying. A gaping emptiness in the hellscape, that refused to be filled no matter how much control he amassed or how much attention he garnered from Valentino.

Can he really be blamed if he comes running whenever Alastor calls?

Yes. And Vox shall continue to LOATHE his actions as they cause him to claw into the old-timey prick whose crushing grip never waned, even as the years trudged forward with no remorse... As well as carry Alastor's limp body to his own bedroom, dressing wounds and setting down the other's battered form ( pride in his victory tarnished by how clearly weakened Alastor was, now that Vox is calm enough to notice ) with more gentleness than anyone has experienced from the television demon.

Spending hours tending to the Radio Demon's needs, silent as the other aside from when he inquired about what was needed. His thoughts were loud enough. No need to add to the cacophony with idle chit-chat. Especially with someone who could barely provide a yes or no in response. Although he did play music from the room's speakers, if only for Alastor's benefit. A soothing serenade of jazz; playlist specifically made from the songs Alastor introduced him to during the start of their unforeseen companionship. Beginning with the very song used to lure him in.

When Alastor finally drifted into slumber, Vox had taken the opportunity to get some work done. After spending an hour or so standing at the bedside, just in case the deer woke up. This unexpected... inconvenience had stolen nearly his entire day, which would be exhausting at best and impossible at worst to make up without lingering consequences. He had barely managed to put a dent in the piled up memos before he felt that achingly familiar sparking presence. In an instant, the television had shot to the Radio Demon's side. Vibrating with barely-contained panic as if he expected the other to somehow be in danger, despite being in arguably one of the safest places in Hell. With how unsettlingly feeble Alastor is, the fear feels warranted.

Heavy breathing settles when he sees the room exactly as he left it, including the man upon the bed. Walking over with a practiced look of disdain, he's about to complain about being interrupted for seemingly no reason— would it kill Alastor to give him five minutes? —when the other breaks the silence instead. Steps falter, composure breaking in a manner unlike Vox. In a way Alastor never lost the ability to force from him. Narrowed eyes wide in clear shock, daresay unnerved at being met with a display of... honesty? Compassion. His only solace is that he doubts Alastor can see him through such dazed eyes.

Vox plasters on a more suitable expression regardless.

Stalking toward the bed, steps slow... reluctant calculated, hands leave their place behind his back to grip the side of the bed instead. Claws dig into the blanket, sparks dancing along his fingertips as he leans closer. Voice but a curt growl, filling the air between him and Alastor, not even the rest of the room permitted to hear. ❝ Alright. Let's say I believe you. Let's say you didn't intend to leave me for ѕєνєη ₣Ʉ₵₭ł₦₲ уєαяѕ... ❞ Voice cracks, Vox praying the trembling that follows will be mistaken as such, ❝ Why did I have to hear about your return— ❞

Swallowing thickly, he shakily exhales before hissing through the bitter taste in his mouth, ❝ —from Valentino. ❞ Over a week. Seven years of nothing and then when Alastor comes back, he didn't seek him out. Didn't so much as tell him. How is it that, after all the pain endured not knowing if Alastor had been slain without his knowledge, how Vox learned he was ALIVE is what hurt the most... 「 ☆ 」

#burning-fcols #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ɪ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪꜰᴇ ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ❞ ¦ 「 Vox IC 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ’ꜱ ᴀ ʙʀᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴡ ᴅᴀᴡɴ ❞ ◌ ᴍᴀɪɴ ¦ 「 Vox 」#hells-fvry #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴀ ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇ ❞ ¦ 「 Alastor 」#♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ʀᴇᴡɪɴᴅ; ᴡᴇ’ᴠᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜰᴀʀ ❞ ¦ 「 Vox and Alastor 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ꜱᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱʙᴇʜᴀᴠᴇ? ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴄʀᴀᴠᴇꜱ ❞ ¦ 「 Answer 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ— ❞ ¦ 「 Queue 」

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steamedmiilk · 2 months ago

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To the surface a girl was free. She was outside roaming. Yet no one knew the truth of all that was happening. She was bound in energy in the worst way.

The men she loved were too stupid to see it until it was too late. Anytime her binders and captors made contact with the person hurting her she changed.

Like a dog she sensed their murdererous energy on them, so she barked and growled, showed her teeth. It wasn’t them she was angry at but that they were in contact with the people who have kept her in lack and without.

Her anger for this binding in energy knew no bounds. While she was free, figuratively speaking, she was confined. Unable to love, heal or dance. Anytime they came around she cursed them all to hell. They acted afraid of her. But they were only afraid of severing the energy links that gifted them with abundance.

Every plan, every word she’s ever written, any man she’s ever loved— taken.

Confined to New York City. Unable to travel. To love. To fuck the way she wants. While others got to act as her.

Of course she was angry. She did not desire women. She wanted what and who she wanted. Illegal Cameras and surveillance on her all the time. Unable to let go and be free. Love was an open source to abuse her. She saw that now.

It didn’t matter who she wanted or loved. And it was too late. These women stalking— taking everything. Came around and only wanted what SHE (and who) wanted. It was the worst energy work known to mankind.

How can they demonize her lifestyle and desires when they made others act as her? Forcing her to be queer when she waited all her life to be the way she’s fighting still to be.

She didn’t believe in fairness. But this was cruel act against her so…she was cruel herself. There had to be a way through this. Through them. If it took meeting and knowing 100 men then so be it.

How many women could there be stalking her and taking? How can her family keep doing this? Keeping her from fidelity and a love that is true.

She could no longer be heartbroken. Because they have grinded her heart to ashes. She was no longer pieces. She moved forward. Realizing the truth of all there was.

They wanted her to be peaceful yet created nothing for her to have peace. She despised her family. For all they have done.

Forcing her to marry her step father. A man who raised her. And her father who wanted to act as her savior.

When she wanted a husband. A man she didn’t see as family and still could call daddy— WITHOUT cameras on her.

Misunderstanding everything about her private life. Things they should have never known. But the illegal hacking of her life… made this all be impossible.

She would not kill herself. She could not. She wanted a safe way out. Maybe them making her a perpetrator in this could free her once it was discovered she was always the victim. Never the other way around.

#narrative #narration #scripts #dialogue prompt #writing prompt #writing promt #fic prompt #spilled writing #spilled poetry

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talonabraxas · 8 months ago

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Amun – An Aurora Filled Sky Talon Abraxas

Amun (Amen, Amon) was the king of the gods. The name means ‘The Hidden One’.

The Aurora

The auroras are the Aurora Borealis (Northern Lights) and the Aurora Australis (Southern Lights).

Hymn to Amun

Hymns to Amun, Papyrus Leiden I 350, chapter 200, lines 22- 24.

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the-crow-binary · 2 years ago

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After this post, I am now going to focus on Isaac and Hector, and I dedicate the post to my friend @beevean <3 (And also at least partially to you, @azerothx, since I will talk about Hector and your ask have been raising dust in my messages closet for a while... alongside a few others >:<)

So. Let's talk about those boys' themes in Curse of Darkness (mangas are incuded).

First theme: Loneliness and Finding a place to belong to (to cling to).

Before they even met, Isaac and Hector already shared a similar story. The one of a child, hated and rejected by all, who just needed a place to be safe in. Like any child deserves to. Granted, Isaac had Julia... but being with someone doesn't mean you cannot feel lonely. Children need a home. And Dracula gave them one.

Isaac clung onto Dracula's "love". He felt happy in repaying him for his "kindness" and mercy by serving him body and soul. He felt accomplished in being nothing but a tool for him, to do his bidding. Hector, however, will take a different paths...

Second theme: Rivalry.

They were both Dracula's generals and Devil Forgemasters, but Hector was the stronger one. He was Dracula's favorite, his protégé. Though Isaac tried and tried, he never reached Hector's level. It festered his mind, created an inferiority complex. And yet, at the same time, he secretly admired Hector. Probably envied him as well. They were rivals in ideals as well. Hector clung onto his humanity, Isaac threw his away. Hector wanted to be his own person, Isaac felt fulfilled being what Dracula wanted him to be. Hector felt bad about killing humans... Isaac could not have cared less.

Wich leads to the third theme: Betrayal.

Hector, unable to stand the massacre any longer, ran away. Both Dracula and Isaac took it badly, but this isn't about Dracula. <3 Isaac clearly cared about Hector, in someway. In the PtR manga, before the Curse take a hold of him, Isaac is honorable to Hector. He praises him, clearly admires him, even brought two swords with him to confront Hector after his betrayal because he cares about a fair fight. In the MF manga, Isaac was ecstatic when felt and then found Hector (who he thought might have been dead, though he had a doubt). He even seems desperate, screaming "why did you betray us?!" at him when they fight. He gives him a chance to go back to the Castle... only for Hector to laugh at him and call him out for being nothing but a pawn. (and Isaac is very expressive. You can read his emotions in his face. You can see when he is worried, when he is in pains but tries to hide it behind a smile, when he's straight-up mad...)

But Hector running away is not the worst part of the betrayal, no... the worst part is Dracula's death. :)

In the PtR manga, Isaac doesn't know Dracula died before he makes it back to the Castle and finds it in ruins (an injured bat flies to him, only to die in his hand. Talk about symbolism). In the MF manga, both Hector and Isaac feel Dracula die while they fight. In both scenarios, Isaac goes mad with grief and put all the responsability on Hector, because if he hadn't ran away, if he had stayed alongside Dracula (or did as ordered and went to kill Belmont), he would still be alive. Because of Hector, Isaac lost the only person who ever made him feel home. Now he has no one.

Fourth theme: Coping (or the lack thereof)

Comes the three years happening between CV3 and CoD. Hector learns to live peacefully with his wife Rosaly, he learns how to be a human again, he learns about how strong humans can be in their own way and how not all of them are bad. He heals and copes alongside his woman and finally, everything seems to go smoothly for him... he is happy.

But not Isaac. Isaac is alone, spying on him. The Curse eating his soul little by little. He became obsessed with two things: Hector and vengeance. He wants to see him suffer, he wants to make him suffer as he suffered. And for this... He needs to let Hector have a taste of happiness. Just like he had with Dracula. :) Before taking it away brutally.

This is the fifth theme: The cycle of revenge.

Isaac wanted revenge on Hector for basically abandoning Dracula to his death. He got it by causing Rosaly's death. Now Hector wants to get revenge on Isaac. And so he abandons the life he has been building for three years, and goes after his old "friend".

The entirety of the game revolves around this theme. Hector the traitor against Isaac the monster. They both have reasons to hate the other, they are obsessed with getting back at the other. Isaac, especially, as he is alone and fully(?) taken over by the Curse. Hector is not alone, however, and still resisting the Curse, though it almost got him in the end. But then...

Sixth theme: Acceptance/Breaking the cycle.

Right before giving Isaac the final blow, Hector stops himself and realise "wait... what am I doing? That is not me." and drop his weapon, fearing that the Curse is actually getting to him. Then Death appears and use Isaac to resurrect Dracula and Hector defeats him and Hector breaks the curse with his powers... he goes "I can finally rest" but Julia won't let him, of course, and they both flee the breaking down Castle.

It ends with him and Julia having a nice little chat, talking about having hope in the future, they both feel accomplished, and you know what...? Hector never got his revenge. :) Yes, Isaac died (either because of his body being used to resurrect Drac or because Hector killed Drac and so it killed him), and so did Dracula (again), but he did not kill him for revenge. He killed him because Dracula was a threat. The idea to get his revenge disappeared the moment he realised what he was doing. And yet, in the end, he still was happy.

Meaning the way to happiness was never to get revenge. On the contrary, it would have bring unhappiness. By refusing to get his, Hector did not only save himself, but the rest of the world as well. If he had let himself fall prey to the Curse, Death would have had used his body to bring back Dracula, and at this point, Trevor was not in a good enough shape to stop him. Accepting to do the right thing and move on was the good call. Now, he can try to live in peace again...

Now you can easily imagine Hector and Isaac having been close, once. Two lost boys, sharing abilities, sharing similar stories, knowing what the other went through... you can imagine they were friends or lovers, caring about the other, but, unfortunately, Dracula always got in the way (Isaac cared more about their Lord and Hector cared more about Isaac. but what he cared even more about was his own humanity. they were bound to fall appart)

What helps caring about those characters, their relationships and themes, are their personnalities. They're both different from each other, but work well together. They are both gray (they are both victims), but Hector leans more on the "righteous" side, while Isaac lean more on the "evil" side.

Now onto the funny part.

What are Isaac and Hector's themes in NFCV?

Loneliness: We barely touch on that, if not at all. We never see Isaac suffer from being alone, he seems pretty okay with it. The only hint we have that Hector might have been a lonely child is this flashback of him bringing his dog back to life, going home, only for his parents to scream in horror (and he does end up killing them by burning down the house). We can guess that if he often brought undead animals to people, he must not have made many actually living friends... but he never seemed like he wanted to anyway. In fact, as an adult, he did say he prefered his "animals" to actual people (if I remember correctly). So okay, scratch that.

Finding a place to belong to: Neither Isaac nor Hector had a problem with that. They both lived happily on their own until adulthood, when Dracula arrived and asked them for help.

So we already lost two themes that made the OG characters dependant on Dracula (wich was an interesting plot point, love that G!Dracula seemed merciful on the surface, welcoming children to his Castle, when he ultimately uses them as weapons). Okay. A shame, but let's continue

Rivalry: Those characters have absolutely no chemistry whatsoever. They are colleagues who barely talk to each other. And I am not going to call Isaac patronizing Hector and calling him a child "rivalry". There's nothing there.

Betrayal: I don't want to sound harsh, but... lol. Lmao, even. Hector got manipulated by Carmilla, but it's barely if he realised he was betraying Dracula. He probably didn't know any better. And while in the manga, Hector's (actual) betrayal led to neither him nor Isaac being there to protect Dracula, and so Isaac being mad at him and not Trevor made sense (+Hector actively chose to betray them, he was not manipulated by anyone)... in NFCV, there is no such thing. Isaac was aware Hector was manipulated by Carmilla, he saw Trevor and knew who was attacking the Castle, and it's Dracula himself who threw him into a portal to protect him. He had no reason to get mad at Hector. Another theme wasted.

Coping: No such thing. Unless you want to count Isaac's "character development" that, but... doesn't feel right to me. The characters never had the time to process things and just live during the whole show (oh, my bad, there was a few time skips here and there that were used as excuses to rushed developments, haha <3)

Cycle of revenge: It was more of a quest for revenge on Isaac's part. Hector never had any reason to get revenge against him. Well, Isaac neither, but he wanted to anyway.

Acceptance/Breaking the cycle: Okay so we did not get any "breaking the cycle" since there was no cycle to begin with... but "acceptance"? Yeah. Isaac went through character development mostly offscreen and decided to accept Dracula was dead (how did he even know) and that Hector had nothing to do with it (wich he knew from the start but good for him to finally take facts into consideration). And Hector........ Hector accepted to not be killed by Isaac. Cool. I guess.

So at this point, all of the themes revolving around Isaac and Hector in games were thrown out the window or done terribly wrong in the show. So what themes did they have? Well, sisters and bros and non-binary hoes... none that would link them directly. They basically had their own things going on, and it would sometimes get in contact with the other's things, but never mix. That's basically their whole relationship summed up.

Isaac's things were that he was Dracula's friend, that he valued his knowledge greatly to the point he was ready to lead his war and give his life to him, but then he was forced into a journey without Dracula that would make him realise he wanted to be something more, that he wanted to live for himself (you know, the development G!Hector had, but done poorly).

And Hector... Hector's whole thing was "I am a wet puppy getting kicked around by every vampire existing". He got manipulated by Dracula, then Carmilla, then Lenore... everytime the show would focus on him, it was like going from "Castlevania" to "misery porn". And his story ended with him in love with his abuser who never had any consequences for treating him like shit and got to die on her own terms. I know CoD's message was basically "revenge bad", but what about justice. What about Hector's character being respected for once. What about... yeah I'll stop right there this isn't about Lenore nor Lenector, this is about Isaactor.

And, needless to say... NFCV Isaactor is shit. They lost all flavor. Hector got his character smashed into pieces and replaced by a bad clone of him, then his character development was passed down to N!Isaac, but not completely, because N!Isaac kept killing people like it was nothing till the end, and still cared about Dracula, and he never actually betrayed Dracula he just was forced to leave him. Meanwhile Isaac's character was thrown out the window and replaced by an OC with his name. And I'm not just saying this because his design is entirely different, but also because his personnality has nothing to do with G!Isaac. All they have in common is the fact they love Dracula. And even then, G!Isaac literally worshipped Dracula. Meanwhile N!Isaac and N!Dracula are actually friends ("are you still my friend, Isaac?"), they often look like they are on the same level, not a master talking to his servant... actually, N!Isaac did not just replaced Hector. He replaced Death as well, as Dracula's confidant.

And look. If you want to make Isaac the favorite one, go ahead, poor guy keeps getting bullied, he deserves the treat. That is not the problem here.

The problem here is... that the show shat on both Isaac and Hector. And everything, from the themes that linked them both to their personnalities, have been completely erased and replaced with badly written drama.

Say what you want about G!Isaac, but this guy is fun. His gestural, his voice, his personnality... They are so fun to watch and analyze. Just the way he walks around his spear in one of the cutscenes and say "pff! still too soon but all the same..." is... GAH. I love it. (and have you guys even SEEN the STABBING SCENE? PLEASE.) Whoever brush him off as a gay joke needs to either shut up or actually read the mangas/play the games. N!Isaac is just a rock. He has no charm. Everyone thinks he's badass when he's being an asshole. Everyone thinks he's deep because he says so.... And I couldn't care less about his relationship with Dracula. And Hector? Hector was RAW in the game and mangas. He was brooding, he had... questionable self-esteem (comparing himself to a demon) but enough self-respect to get away from Dracula and respect his own moral code. He knew how to fight, he was strong. He was ACTUALLY badass and cool. But he also was tragic, in need of love, and adorable when with Rosaly... N!Hector was a joke. And it didn't have to be this way, they could have decided at any moment to make him stop taking any shit and start actually defending and fighting for himself. But no. We had to wait till the end of S4 to have him cut his finger off, wich is the closest we will ever get to a badass moment for N!Hector. (also Isaac rushing in to help him is cute, but it would've been cuter if they actually had chemistry, y'know?)

Isaac and Hector in CoD were two faces of the same coins. Two people who went through the same things, but ended up taking widely different paths... But in NFCV, they had nothing in common. Nothing more than strangers working for the same guy. And one of them was an asshole to and behind the other's back for no reason. (also, Dracula recruiting them as adults does not have the same impact as him welcoming them as children... but at this point it's clear that N!Dracula was meant to be alone in his Castle before Lisa. Unlike G!Dracula who is "said to be generous towards those who turns their back on god" and have devils and demons and even humans roaming all around)

If I had to tell what CoD's core was, as I did for the whole Castlevania franchise... Well, it was Isaac and Hector. Their characters, and their relationship.

Once again, NFCV wasted good potential.

#also neither Isaac nor Hector ever met the main trio and that is a CRIME #I mean. ANOTHER crime.#(I am glad there was no stabbing scene. N!Isaac is so not sexy and fabulous and slaying. I do not want him kissing Trevor. cringe.)#(also I lied. CoD's core is the raw gay sex and homosexual tension)#castlevania #netflixvania #hector castlevania #isaac laforeze

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northwest-cryptid · 8 months ago

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I think 90% of people's problem with AI comes from our inability to get away from it being the new thing. Similarly to how when cellphones went from being bricks to being flip phones that made texting easier, and those who developed the tech kept insisting on moving from dial pads to touch screens; people really hated touch screens and texting in general.

I cannot tell you how many times growing up I'd hear people say stuff like

"why is everyone in the office texting each other? Just call me if you need something it takes 2 seconds! I don't know how to use this fancy touch screen shit, just ask me something in person!"

It's the same way I see people talking about AI, note that the use of highlighted words here is to sort of point out parts of the core message behind the words. Texting is a "bad thing" because there's an easier alternative, aka calling someone on the phone; something phones were originally designed for before even texting. Furthermore a lot of the frustration with texting came from the lack of understanding in how to use the new touch screens; with a lot of people feeling like you could just ask them something in person if it was so important.

Now I'm not trying to claim that you're mad about AI because you "don't know how to use it" rather I'm arguing that you're mad about AI the same way that people were mad about touch screens. Because everyone around you is insisting on using it. It's yet to be refined in a way that makes sense for most of the use cases. The result is that it feels like EVERYTHING needs to have AI now, your car needs AI, your house needs AI, your computer needs AI, your phone needs AI, AI for your dogs, AI for your trash bins. Because AI has become more of a buzzword than actually being what it is; a sort of umbrella term that literally just means "artificial intelligence" which... we've had for a while.

I ask you this, have you ever played a video game? Have you ever said "damn this AI is shit!" When you see an enemy running into a wall trying to find you, or your team member uses an attack that heals the enemy? That's a fair thing to say, because you are right; that IS an AI.

However it's not the same kind of AI that can generate images, or write paragraphs of text be it a documentation of something or an RP of your favorite fictional character... right?

Well, kinda?

See there's actually a few different kinds of AI which mostly get broke down into how they function. The AI that makes images and words is basically doing the same thing as the AI that decided to use Garu on that Wind based enemy and piss you off.

A lot of people seem to give AI entirely too much credit in trying to make sense of how they work. Even the words "Artificial Intelligence" is kind of a joke if you ask me, because it's basically no different than a game of chess when it comes to the decision making.

When you play chess there's hundreds of different moves you could make on your turn, but only so many of those moves actually make sense, on top of that; even less moves would actually be beneficial to you. So when you're deciding what piece to move and where to move it, you likely use some level of process of elimination based on the data you have available.

You survey the board to find what pieces your opponent has left, and where they have them placed; then you might look over your pieces and figure out where you could either take a piece, or at least move your piece safely to set up for future moves. What you're doing is essentially covering your bases from a priority list.

You want to ensure that none of your pieces are taken this turn, so you cover that first; make sure nothing is in danger and NEEDS to be covered or moved. Then you WANT to take the enemy pieces so you scan the board for any possible moves that might take their pieces, if you're still coming up empty the least you can do is make sure none of your pieces are going to possibly be in danger next turn while you set up to take their pieces.

This is more or less what an AI is doing when it's deciding if the word "And" or "But" comes next in a string. I'm trying not to get really technical with it, not because I don't think you could understand it or anything, but because I have found that when I do; people don't seem to understand it... so okay yea that's maybe part of it, but look it's not meant to be a put down. I am trying to write this in such a way that as many people as possible will understand it.

If 5 people read it and only 1 really understands it, that's not good. If 5 people read it and 4 of them understand it, with 3 of those people being comp sci students who would have understood even really technical statements, and one of those people being a person who thinks AI is actually sentient... well good hey 4 people understood!

So trust me I'm not looking down at YOU, I'm just trying to make this as easily understandable to as many people as possible. Now obviously the problem with that is that on a more technical level someone out there is going to look at this and say "hey that's not entirely correct" and that's fair. But run on sentences, and annoying tangents aside (see I'm self aware :P) I hope this is all making sense so far.

Basically, an AI generates text or images based on what it knows; it only knows what it is taught. AI cannot think for itself; similar to how we say humans can't have an original thought; AI cannot think period.

If I tell an AI that the words "I" "went" "to" "the" "store" "yesterday" exist, and nothing else. It's going to respond to any and all interaction with some jumble of "Yesterday store I to the went!" Because it literally just knows those words exist and it knows it should generate some kind of statement with them.

It doesn't know what they mean, how they're used, or why they should be used. It just knows they're words, and it's goal is to make sentences (strings of words) with words!

Now I feed it the sentence "I went to the store yesterday" and it knows that those words likely go in that order, because I told it that those words go in that order.

Now if I give it a bunch of other random words it will likely pair up things like "store" with things like "yesterday" so whenever you tell it about stores, it's going to tell you something about yesterday. You'll likely not know which store, because it will only know to pair the words "the" with the words "store" so it's always talking about "The Store" and likely that it went there yesterday.

Now, if we're asking if AI itself is "bad" we can honestly, objectively say no. AI in and of itself isn't a bad thing, it can't have any moral placement it's simply just a tool. It's not even a tool in the same way a gun is a tool.

I say this because I often hear people say:

"AI is like guns, guns aren't inherently bad but bad people use guns to hurt people! AI isn't inherently bad either but bad people use AI for the wrong reasons!"

The green here highlights the only part of this statement I agree with. Because simply put guns are made for the singular purpose of causing something else harm. Whether for self defense, or war. It's a tool designed specifically for something we would be much better off without. However, AI is simply being horribly misused and abused, where many MANY people have found extremely good uses for the technology as a whole.

I've heard people tell me as well that Generative AI is bad and that other forms of Analytical AI is actually the only good AI! Which I also fundamentally disagree with. Because again, without generative AI we wouldn't have AI in things like video games that make characters feel real. If you go back and play early Pokemon games; you can see how poorly trained the AI really was. It will always look for specific things which allows you as the one with a human brain to abuse and exploit that weakness. You can essentially use knowledge of which moves the opponent has; with your knowledge of the type chart to force them to use a specific move and then simply switch to a Pokemon who is strong against that attack type, until it no longer has the points left to use the attack against something that would be effective against it, but weak to the attack.

At the same time it's what allows games like Mabinogi to have enemies who can "think" about which skill to use in any given situation. The AI is pretty poor but it's there, enemies still get stuck on corners, they still don't understand not to hit you when you load Counter Attack; they are still going to spam windmill and smash. However, I'd rather the AI be poor than really really good because the same technology that tells Pokemon in Red and Blue to use fire against grass types; has evolved to be able to kick your ass at Mario Party and actually use strategy in games like Chess. I don't need Generation 30 to come and give us an enemy who can actually "understand" how skill combos works. I swear to god if they teach the enemies to combo Smash into an Assault Slash into a Windmill into another Smash into a Bash into- you get the point.

Hey remember what I said about making this understandable to as many people as possible... yea sorry I went off the autism rails with that last bit, but you hopefully understand what I'm saying here.

Generative AI has been around for a long time; normally only available to those who had the programming know-how or the money to really use it. However it recently was given to the people, to do with what they want. Problem is, a lot of people got really lazy about it and decided to never evolve it beyond just image generation, and of course if people can generate images, there's going to be people who want to generate GOOD images. So it kept getting developed further, while other less moral individuals began using it for everything from essentially photoshopping people's clothes off (bad) and stealing people's art by generating "finished" versions before artists could even begin to shade their WIP (also bad.)

This caused a big rift, understandably so. Because some people were literally using AI run on their own local machines, that was trained specifically on ethically sourced images, art, and material. All of which is, believe it or not; entirely fine. That's ethical as hell, no one is hurt in that at all. There's basically consent given on all sides to use the agreed upon material to train a specific model/checkpoint to be good at a specific thing. These models are actually capable of making some really high quality stuff you'd never know is AI because they were trained well and constantly improved upon. These people are not lazy, they have layers and layers of plug ins, they adjust the images, adding things by hand or correcting mistakes, then teaching the AI how to do better. They use different plug ins made by the very same community; specifically to give bones and references to the AIs images so it can better pose a character or make sure all their digits are in place correctly.

On the other side of things people were very up in arms because every big tech company, every website, everyone with any amount of text or images to sell; was suddenly selling out to these AI companies to train their big AI models. Models that produced horrible lazy results, that took no effort to just pump out by typing in "AniMe GiRL Big BoBieS!" in a prompt box and clicking the generate button like you're going for a "all manual clicks 1M cookies" cookie clicker speedrun. People didn't like this for a lot of reasons, and they were right for it. This isn't how AI should be trained, not only is it not at all ethical; it's arguably stealing (not in the legal sense, because anything we post on a social media website is given over to the website; and we don't actually own it. Though I suppose copyright might combat ToS on that a bit) and at the end of the day it's just wrong. It also produces absolutely horrible results though, we're talking absolute trash that you shouldn't have wasted the time or energy on. So it's a lose lose for everyone, but this is the internet and you're going to have dumb trolls everywhere who seek to make other people's lives worse. If they know they "trigger" you they're going to keep generating dumb AI shit on horrible websites with shit AI models.

I think a huge problem we're running into is that no one wants to get specific enough with it. They want to yell at "AI" as a whole, they see a cool image of a witch knight and go "ugh it was made with AI!" As if it's just as bad as the images coming out of things like NovelAI or Dall-E. There's no way for them to know what the model/checkpoint even was, if it was run on a local computer or hosted by some bigger company. There's no way for them to know if it was ethically sourced images, if it was trained and made in a manner that was actually okay. Hell they don't know how much additional work the generator put into making that image. For all we know they generated it, hated how it looked, and redid everything by hand. There are people out there who hate AI so much they'd still think it's bad and wrong and horrible even if it was ethically sourced, and 90% drawn by hand using ink made from a thousand year old tree.

People don't want to see the ways in which AI could help people, they don't want to see the ways in which AI has improved and has lead to many of the games and entertainment we enjoy being better. They don't want to see it for what it could be...

That last bit there? I was talking about companies, people who would shove AI in your face every second of the day, self driving cars, new forced AI on your phones and computers; AI on your TV to tell you what to watch.

The big reason I hate all of that is that it doesn't utilize AI in any real way, nothing useful comes of that. It's just a buzzword, it's just the newest thing that they NEED to have or else they won't be taken seriously in the tech world. It's bluetooth, it's touch screens, it's the newest thing. People are of course going to hate it, because we're not seeing what AI could do for us, we're not seeing the good that it could be, we're only seeing the bad, we're seeing how people abuse it; we're seeing how companies shove it into everything even where it doesn't belong.

I don't blame anyone for being annoyed by it's constant invasion, but I also believe we need to be more specific about our target when it comes to AI. Getting mad at AI as a whole is scapegoating the blame onto some invisible problem. It's taking the focus away from the companies who are actually a problem, and shirking it onto individuals who are breaching containment in their AI circles while using it (very possibly) ethically because they're producing results people don't know are AI made in the first place.

There's no way to know if someone is just hating on AI to hate on AI because AI is bad; or if this person is actually using AI in a way that is wrong. It's hard to know whether or not people are up in arms about this dude because they use badly trained AI that steals and produces lazy results; or because they're just using AI in the first place.

AI has been used in many fields, for many things, for many reasons, for many years now. It's not going to go away, but we could fight to actually make sure it's being used correctly and being used ethically.

You're fighting against bluetooth, you're fighting against touch screens, you're fighting against the new big thing that's being brought to the people and just like the boomers who came before you clutching their Nokia bricks saying "texting is pointless, it'll never catch on; it's such a pain! They're not going to make BIGGER keyboards on already huge phones just to make a secondary function more accessible!" You're going to find that technology is going to evolve to accommodate AI more and more whether we like it or not. What we CAN do however, is demand better; practical applications of it's use. We can set standards, boycott where it counts; and actually pin down the bad actors without allowing others to get scapegoated in the crossfire letting those abusers off the hook.

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slothquisitor · 1 year ago

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What Moves in the Dark: Chapter Five

A post-campaign Baldur's Gate 3 eldritch horror AU.

Chapter Summary: In which I gently remind you that this is a horror AU, and I'm genuinely unsure how to tag everything in this chapter. Uh, shit gets wild. TW: body horror and blood.

Read from the beginning.

Read on AO3.

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Liv and Astarion wander the Wide until the Bailiff closes it down and with practiced efficiency, the stalls pack up and the people disperse. No one else’s blood catches Astarion’s attention though, and coupled with the lack of strangeness in Moira’s blood, Liv feels a bit like she’s failed.

She suspects that’s why Astarion is still here. They’re slowly meandering back towards the shop, and she’s wondering if she should suggest that they start popping into some more taverns, but her heart’s not really in it. She asked for his help, and he’s given it. She doesn’t want to waste his time chasing down leads she doesn’t have.

Liv’s not even sure why this whole mystery means so much to her. She wanted to help Astarion because it meant finding a way out of Baldur’s Gate, and here she is ignoring all sense of self-preservation grasping at straws and trying to solve the unsolvable. It’s not her job to find these answers, and it would be so much easier to look away and pretend that nothing is wrong. It would be the Vires way, after all.

And perhaps that’s why she can’t quite leave this alone. Solving this is the antithesis of everything her family is, everything she grew up being told. Just once, she wants to add something good to this world instead of benefitting from all of the ways it is unfair.

“You’re quite sure that there’s nothing odd about that woman’s blood?” Astarion asks, pulling her from the spiral of her thoughts.

“We can look at it more closely at the shop, but yeah, nothing odd.”

“It absolutely smelled the same,” he insists.

“Oh, I believe you. That’s what’s so odd though. If her blood is the same as Alfran’s and Iona’s, why isn’t it behaving the same?”

He looks relieved, but she’s not sure why. “You’re the scholar.”

“Not this kind of scholar,” she sighs.

“What kind of scholar are you then?”

The question feels a little close to the things she’d rather not talk about, but he’s shared plenty about himself, perhaps it’s fair she answers. “Evocation. I studied evocation magic for a very, very long time. Medicine and healing…it’s relatively new to me.”

“You might have mentioned that when you promised to help me,” Astarion says with a hint of judgment.

“And what? You expected to find a specialist in vampiric curses in a random alchemy shop in the Lower City?” she prods back.

“I had hoped,” he says with resignation.

“I promise that the second we solve this, I’ll turn my full attention to your condition. If you still want me to after you’ve seen how easy it’s been for me to solve anything about this blood disease.” She worries that all she’ll be able to give him are dead ends and empty promises.

“Would it help if I told you that I’m strangely comforted by your commitment to a lost cause? That means that maybe you’ll actually solve mine, you know, eventually.”

The words are kinder than she expects from him. “Well, I’m still sorry it’s a lower priority.” And she is even though she sort of implied she wasn’t when she demanded his help.

“Darling, there’s very weird blood shit happening in Baldur’s Gate. Trust me when I say I am very used to traveling around with the do-gooding types who will solve everyone else’s problems first. I will….attempt to be patient.”

“Like you were with Moira tonight?”

He rolls his eyes. “I got you what you wanted, didn’t I? And just as you preferred, there was no knocking out and dragging people into random alleyways to steal their blood.”

“I appreciate your self-restraint-”

She’s cut off by the sound of someone calling her name from up the street. Beside her, Astarion tenses, and she’s pretty sure he’s reached for a dagger she didn’t know he had on him. Flashbacks of the night before come unbidden, and she’s already reaching for her magic before she realizes that she knows the voice.

“Liv! Thank the gods!” One of Iona’s sons is running towards them, breathless and haggard.

“Daniel? What’s wrong?”

Daniel pauses, sucking down several deep breaths before explaining. “It’s Nathan. He…well, I’m not sure what’s wrong. It’s like his limbs aren’t his own? I was headed to the shop, I’m glad I caught you.”

“Where is he?”

“Back at home. Henry’s with him, can you come now? Please? We need your help.” There’s panic in his eyes and a pleading tone she can’t abide.

“Of course, right behind you.” There’s no hesitation from her, but Astarion looks a little unsure of what he should be doing.

“One of Iona’s sons,” she explains. “Might be connected.”

His eyebrows raise, and he nods. “Well then, no time to waste.”

They follow Daniel through the labyrinthine streets of the Lower City at a pace that’s just below an all-out sprint. That’s how she knows it’s bad, that there’s some sort of real emergency. If Liv ever thought of the Lower City, she would have pictured streets like this one. Cramped buildings, faded paint, and a general sense of neglect in the air. She surprises herself by preferring it to the sterile opulence of the Upper City. She recognizes Iona’s street, and the house on the corner, still marked for mourning with the black cloth in the window. She slows as they approach, she has a stitch in her side and is breathing hard while Astarion seems deplorably unfazed. And then she remembers he doesn’t have to breathe and she hates him a little bit.

But every thought eddies out of her head when she sees Henry and Nathan and the small group of people surrounding them. Nathan lies sprawled on the ground, face scrunched in pain. Henry stands off to the side hands outstretched, looking utterly helpless. He looks as if he wants to touch his brother, but isn’t sure how. It’s only when she gets close enough to see Nathan that she realizes his limbs are tested unnaturally, arms and legs extended at wrong angles.

With a shudder, part of his arm attempts to inch up the street, but it’s like his limbs don’t know how to move like parts of him are trying to move without any thought of bone or muscle. There’s a horrifying crunch, and Nathan cries out as his forearm drags along the cobblestones, as if it could drag the rest of his body with it.

“How did it start?” Liv asks, stepping forward and reaching for every healing potion in her pack. “How long has he been like this?”

“He was fine, and then he just collapsed half an hour ago, and then I ran to get you.”

As she kneels down, Nathan’s body seems to change direction. His legs lunge for her, but not like they should. Instead, the top of his thigh and a calf move towards her in a fit of movement that completely ignores the rest of Nathan’s body. His answering scream is horrifying, and so are the bruises that line his limbs, like his blood is attempting to leak out of his pores.

She glances up at Astarion, asking a question she’s almost sure she already knows the answer to. He only nods from several feet away, grimacing at the harrowing scene.

“Can you help him?” Henry asks, tears pooling in his eyes.

She does her best to look Nathan over without emotion, punching down the horror and the worry. She needs a clear head; she needs to figure out what to do. First things first, solve the most obvious issue. He’s in pain, the shock will kill him if she doesn’t do something about that. She opens her bag and reaches around for a paralytic.

“We need to knock him out and then reset his limbs before he can be healed,” Liv says to Henry and Daniel.

“I don’t know that knocking him out will help,” Henry says, voice barely louder than a whisper. “He passed out about twenty minutes ago, and his limbs still kept trying to move.”

She considers that for a moment, and another spasm rocks Nathan’s body. His legs keep moving toward her like he’s some puppet on strings, but the person working the puppet has no idea what a human body should move like at all. There’s a sickening sort of crunch as his limbs sputter towards her. What is happening here? She needs time to figure this out, to work it out.

And then it dawns on her. His body had changed direction when she knelt down because of the blood in her bag. His blood is moving in his body, that’s why his limbs aren’t working. If all the blood in one’s body attempted to move without using muscles or tendons or bones…then it would probably look a lot like this. Fuck. A paralytic won’t help because it’s not his body and the blood doesn’t need him alive in order to move, she’s seen that. The best she can do is buy him time, buy herself some breathing and thinking room.

She does the only thing she can think to do in the moment: she pulls out a small jar of graveyard dirt she’s been carrying since she saw Kharis use this spell on Iona. He had bought them a precious hour that hadn’t been enough but had given them time. She forms the symbols with her fingers and utters the words, feeling the cool breeze of death moving through her to Nathan.

He goes so very still.

“What have you done?” Daniel says, terror lacing his voice.

But Nathan is no longer screaming and his body is no longer moving. And it is a relief. “I put his body in stasis. We need to get him off the street.”

“Can you help him?” Henry asks.

“I hope so,” Liv replies. And she prays to whatever gods might be listening that her idea works because it’s the only one she has.

***

The horrifying scene that Astarion found himself spectator to is somewhat undercut by Liv’s relative calmness, and the way everyone simply does what she asks. After placing Nathan in some sort of magical stasis, his brothers had obediently brought him inside, placed him in a bed, and then left Liv to do her work. For his part, Astarion has been hovering on the edge of the room, waiting for instructions or dismissal or for the horror of watching a man’s limbs move so unnaturally to wear off.

It reminds him of ceremorphosis. The breaking and cracking of bones as they elongated and shifted. He finds it hard to look at Nathan, at his limbs bent…wrong. So instead he looks at Liv who is rummaging around her bag pulling out countless vials, including one full of blood. Probably Moira’s.

Liv is pale as she stands over the man, and holds Moira’s blood near his body, twisting the vial in her hands. It’s hard to tell at this distance, but he’s pretty sure he sees a tendril pressed up against the glass, trying to get at Nathan’s body.

“Well fuck,” she whispers.

“So much for Moira’s blood not being strange,” Astarion agrees. “You’ve got a plan, I presume. You’re far too calm to not have a plan.”

Liv looks at him, and her deep green eyes are full of fear and apologies. “I have exactly one idea and if it doesn’t work…” Her voice wobbles a bit as it drops off.

Shit. He’s the one freaking out, so she’s not allowed to also freak out. “Talk me through it.”

Her voice is steadier when she speaks next and he’s grateful. “I’d like to see if we can pull blood out of him, whatever is in his blood is what is causing this. I don’t know how to separate it, but when Iona was in this state, and when Alfran was dead, their blood came out of them on their own. Maybe if we pull enough of his blood out of him, we can stop whatever it's doing.”

“You think his blood is doing this?” The question comes out pitched an octave too high.

“Look at the bruising on his skin.”

Astarion does and immediately regrets it. He’s seen plenty of bodies in various states of ruin. He’s even been the harbinger of that sort of chaos on a body, but that was all good, simple, gore. Whatever’s happening to poor Nathan is absolutely grotesque. But she is right, parts of his limbs are covered with deep mottled bruises, as if the blood is trying to escape his pores.

“So what, we drain him of blood? He’ll die. Trust me on that.” Though as he says it the thought of draining Nathan makes him gag.

“Well, that’s what the stasis is for, and then restoration draught. Followed up by a health potion.”

“And you think it will work?”

Liv shakes her head. “I have no fucking idea, but I’ve got to try.”

He doesn’t understand her or this cause she’s taken up. The set of her jaw and the certainty of her words remind him so much of Tavren that he can barely breathe around the strange weight of it on his chest. Liv is good in the same way Tavren was good: committed to a cause, kind to a fault, likely to infuriate and awe him in equal measure. He pushes past his fear. He’s in this now.

“Tell me what you need me to do, and please tell me it’s not draining him dry myself.”

There’s a gratitude in her eyes she doesn’t voice. “Just help me with the vials? Neither one of us is touching anything, okay?”

He nods and moves closer. Liv is quite pale, but she’s moving with confidence anyway. She leans over Nathan and slices down his forearm where the bruising is deepest.

Astarion isn’t prepared for what happens next.

He’s stabbed enough people to know what happens to wounds like the one Liv has given Nathan. But the blood doesn’t spurt or pool as it should, instead it grows. He’s seen the blood branch within the vials, tiny tendrils pressed against the glass, but this is different. The blood branches out of Nathan’s arm like a plant blooming all at once. The stench in the room is almost unbearable, but there’s something about it he hadn’t picked up before, some sense of otherness. He’s frozen there against the beside Liv, filled with fear. Something is very, very wrong.

The branching blood is all too happy to be manipulated and moved into another vessel. Liv is careful not to touch it, but she works meticulously, filling several vials. It is Liv’s calmness that pulls him back from the brink, that gets him moving, putting lids on vials and handing her fresh ones. They work until as she slices into the man’s skin the blood no longer branches, no longer reaches toward them.

“Okay, I think that’s all of it. How does his blood smell?” Liv asks.

He stopped breathing several minutes ago so that he could function. He sniffs the air tentatively. “Still bad. Maybe less so?”

“Before I can heal him, we’ll need to set his bones right.”

Ugh. No part of him wants to do that. “Must we?”

Liv looks almost as thrilled about the idea as he is. “I can’t set all his bones on my own.”

Damn it all. “Do you think this worked?

Liv shakes her head. “I think this is a stop-gap, not a cure.”

“Was this happening to anyone else?”

“No. But we pulled more blood out of him than anyone else. Let’s start with his arms.”

Setting Natha’s bones is slow, terrible work. His limbs feel like sandbags, and Astarion isn’t sure that what’s happened to him is something magic can fix. But then, limbs righted, Liv drops the stasis spell and pours two potions down Nathan’s throat in quick succession. The first for blood loss, the second for healing, and he’s shocked at the way the bruises recede, the way the swelling subsides. The horror is erased, as if it was never there in the first place.

It’s the same sort of disconnect as being revived, he thinks. The wounds were there, they were real, death had visited the body, but magic wiped them away. If Nathan is lucky, this half-hour of pain will fade away to nothingness. Perhaps his body won’t even remember the horror of what happened. He won’t even bear scars.

Liv watches Nathan for several moments, staring at every minute shift of his body. She presses two fingers against his neck, searching for a pulse point.

“Nathan?”

The man stirs a bit, and he can see the way Liv’s shoulders cave in relief before she punches the emotion down. Unflappable as always. “Nathan, how are you feeling?”

Nathan winces a bit. “Awful. Like I was run over by a carriage.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Nathan looks down at his body, whole and unbroken. “I had the worst dream…I was…I think I was dying.”

“How did it start?” Liv prompts.

Nathan rubs absently at his chest, right above his heart. “I had weird pains all day, and then I was coming home from the docks and my legs just…broke…right under me.”

“When did these pains start? Were you doing any sort of work that you don’t usually do today?”

“Just an odd job for Huido that I pick up sometimes.”

“Huido?”

“Smuggler for the Guild. Sometimes I help move things for him…the extra pay is nice.”

Ah. Another Guild connection. He knows that Liv’s caught it too by the way she glances at him. “Alright, Nathan. I’m going to give you something to help you sleep for a while, okay?”

The man nods and drinks the draught Liv brings to his lips. And then he sleeps. “He’s working for the Guild too.”

“Yeah, I caught that. Sounds like we’ve got a new lead,” Liv says. “I don’t think I cured him. Just bought some time, I hope. Help me gather all of this up…then we can talk with his brothers and go.”

They gather vials in silence, and Liv prestidigitates the blood and mess from the bed. He’s careful as he places the vials in the bag, worried that they might break, but as he does each one disappears and he realizes she’s got a bag of holding. Well, at least that explains how nothing in her bag broke despite their sprint here.

“What are you going to tell his brothers?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t like to lie, but I don’t see a way around it. We can’t tell them the truth.”

“No,” he agrees. “He was hexed.”

She shakes her head. “No hex would behave…oh.”

“Not everyone knows as much about magic as you do.”

“Alright.”

The brothers swallow down the explanation easily. Especially when they see their brother is whole and alive. They aren’t suspicious, simply grateful. They try to pay her, but of course, she doesn’t allow it. Offering gentle words and instructions and requests to contact her if anything changes, she gets them out of the house quickly. It is only then that the exhaustion is clear in every line of her face.

“I need a drink. How about you?”

Gods, he’d love a little oblivion after all that. “Please.”

They walk back to the shop in a silence that isn’t uncomfortable. The things they’ve seen, the work they’ve just done hangs like a weight between them. He can feel the way it connects them, and they don’t have to talk about it. In fact, he’d rather prefer if they didn’t. The streets are quiet and empty as they wander back to the shop, but Astarion feels watched all the same. While she unlocks the shop door he looks around and studies the shadows, but he sees nothing so he follows her inside.

“You keep booze in the shop, how scandalous.”

Liv rolls her eyes and walks over to the stairs. “No, I keep booze in my apartment.”

“I didn’t realize you lived here,” Astarion says with genuine surprise. He realizes that there is an awful lot he doesn’t know about Liv. The realization bothers him for some reason. He’s suddenly not sure if she’s simply not telling him things or if she just doesn’t tell anyone anything. He wishes he knew which it was.

“It’s one of the reasons why I took this job. Came with free housing,” Liv explains as they climb the staircase. She pauses at the threshold and looks at him over her shoulder. “Come on in.”

“Where were you living before?” he asks, following her inside and pretending not to be grateful for her specific invitation, for remembering at all. The apartment itself is small and simple. It’s a single room, though she’s put up a screen between her bed and the rest of the space in a failing effort at creating a partition. The kitchen area is small too, with just two cupboards and a little stove and counter that runs the length of the wall. All of the furniture looks rather secondhand, and mismatched. It doesn’t feel like it’s hers though there’s an art piece here or a knickknack there that would betray otherwise. The only part of the space that screams Liv is the bookshelf in the corner, groaning under the weight of various tomes.

“With my family. We didn’t part on good terms, so I needed a place to stay. Kharis was kind enough to offer up his old place since he lives in the Upper City with his husband now.”

“You have a lot of books,” he says, wandering over to the bookshelf. He drags a finger along the spines. “I expected more medical texts or spell theory books. These are mostly novels and stories.”

She’s in the area that passes for her kitchen fishing a bottle out of a cupboard and two mismatched cups. “Yes, well, I do like to enjoy what I read every now and again. I think we’ve been going about this wrong.”

He joins her at the table and allows her to pour him two fingers of what looks like Mermaid Whiskey. It was what she’d ordered the other night. Expensive taste for someone who rarely seems to drink. “Oh? Do tell.”

“I don’t think this is a disease. I think it’s spreading somehow, but it’s not a disease.”

He throws back his whiskey wishing he didn’t have to ask the question he’s about to ask. “Then what is it?”

“I think it’s a thing…we’re just finding parts of it scattered in the blood of certain people. It’s trying to bring those parts back together.”

“You think that the blood tendrils are…what? Trying to get back to whatever it is they came from?”

“We already know they’re attracted to each other. Where was Nathan’s blood trying to go before we showed up…crossed the signals? What was making his blood move when no one else’s had done that? If this was a disease, then it would be affecting people more similarly. We both saw Moira, she was fine. Alfran and Iona had similar symptoms, but that wasn’t the same either…”

He hates that she’s making any sense whatsoever. He pours himself more whiskey. “Fine. So if it is a thing…what do we do about it?”

“I don’t know. But…I have some books.” She’s already on her feet, pulling books off her bookshelves. “And there’s the Guild connection. That’s got to be something.”

“It just so happens that I know where the Guildhall is, and I’m fairly positive that Nine-Fingers won’t kill me on sight, so I can go speak with her,” Astarion replies.

“You know her? She helped in the battle, didn’t she? I read that.” Then she smiles. “I shouldn’t be surprised you’re familiar with the Guildhall. Should we go now?”

He laughs. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, darling, but I’m not about to walk you into the Guildhall.”

“And why not?”

“Because they’re rather secretive, and I have enough enemies as is. If I bring a stranger in, no matter how well-intentioned, they’re more likely to kill you than ask questions. I’m not even positive that she’ll see me. It was Tavren and Jaheira who had the influence there, not me. Besides, I’m hoping I have something more for them to go off of beyond ‘we think there’s a terrifying creature controlling people’s blood on the loose’.”

“Then we best get researching.” She brings over several heavy tomes, none of which look very promising, but it’s as good a place to start as any.

He grimaces. “How wonderful.” But he’s scarcely been as afraid as he was earlier tonight, watching that blood bloom out of Nathan. And so he settles in for an evening of reading and research, hoping beyond all hope for answers.

#astarion #tavstarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #what moves in the dark #astarion x liv #uh be sure to check the tw on this one guys #read safely my friends #slothquisitorwrites

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