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theantarwitch · 1 year ago

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Alchemy, the untouched friend of Witchcraft

If there is something interesting that is nearly not used on mostly of the witch community, is Alchemy, and is something from which we could take some few useful stuffs.

As always, disclaimer first, I’m not an expert on the subject and I barely if I read a couple of books about the topic (from another 10 untouched ones lol), so as always in life, take what I say with tweezers. This is meant to be a light superficial view to open a door of possibilities in a mix of Witchcraft and Alchemy, is not a thesis. Saying that, to the core of the question.

Alchemy use elements. A lot of them.

The three primes or Tria Prima (the basic 3 materials): Sulfur (Related to the Soul and the principle of combustibility, so it has volatility, can burn, explode, combust), Mercury (Related to the Spirit, the principle of fusibility so the material can be fused together and volatility so a substance vaporizes), and Salt (Relate to the Body, the principle of non-combustibility and non-volatility).

Our beloved Four basic Elements: Air, Earth, Fire, Water.

The Seven Metals associated with the seven classical planets: Lead, corresponding with Saturn. Tin, corresponding with Jupiter. Iron, corresponding with Mars. Gold, corresponding with the Sun. Copper, corresponding with Venus. Mercury, corresponding with Mercury. Silver, corresponding with the Moon.

The 13 Mundane Elements and Later Metals: Antimony, Arsenic, Bismuth, Cobalt, Magnesium, Manganese, Nickel, Oxygen, Phlogiston, Phosphorus, Platinum, Sulfur, Zinc (All of them with a lot of interesting properties and functions, in and out the alchemy world).

The 10 Alchemical Compounds: Acid, Sal ammoniac, Aqua fortis, Aqua regia, Aqua vitae, Amalgam, Cinnabar, Vinegar, Vitriol, Brimstone (All of them also with amazing properties).

And what interesting me the most (at least to my way to do witchcraft), The 12 Alchemical Processes:

Calcination (Aries): The thermal treatment of a solid to removing impurities or volatile substances.

Congelation (Taurus): Term used in medieval and early modern alchemy for the process known today as crystallization. Process by which a solid form into a structure known as a crystal, by precipitating from a solution or freezing.

Fixation (Gemini): Process by which a previously volatile substance is "transformed" into a form (often solid) that is not affected by fire.

Solution (Cancer): Homogeneous mixture composed of two or more substances. In such a mixture, a solute is a substance dissolved in another substance, known as a solvent.

Digestion (Leo): A process in which gentle heat is applied to a substance over a period of several weeks.

Distillation (Virgo): Separating the components or substances from a liquid mixture by using selective boiling and condensation.

Sublimation (Libra): The transition of a substance directly from the solid to the gas state, without passing through the liquid state.

Separation (Scorpio): Converts a mixture or solution of chemical substances into two or more distinct product mixtures. Process of distinguishing to two or more substance in order to obtain purity.

Ceration (Sagittarius): Chemical process, by continuously adding a liquid by imbibition to a hard, dry substance while it is heated. Typically, this treatment makes the substance softer.

Fermentation/ Putrefaction (Capricorn): A metabolic process that produces chemical changes in organic substrates through the action of enzymes/ Decomposition of organic matter by bacterial or fungal digestion.

Multiplication (Aquarius): Process to increase the potency of the elixir or projection powder, in order to increase the gains in the subsequent projection.

Projection (Pisces): Process to transmute a lesser substance into a higher form; often lead into gold.

Damn, alchemy even have symbols to Units: Month, Day, Hour, Dram (Unit of mass between 1 and 3 grams), Half Dram, Ounce (Unit of mass, weight or volume of 28 grams, Half Ounce, Scruple (1 grams), Pound (500 grams).

So just with this simple 2 pages of basic Wikipedia info, we have a ton of new things to use. Everything here has specific properties, some more physical and chemical oriented, but others (like the 3 Tria Prima and The 12 Alchemical Processes) have a lot of correspondences with the witch life itself.

The 12 Alchemical Processes could be absolutely used to represent an desired outcome.

Calcination uses thermal treatment, so it can boost the Fire element of a spell. It also “removing impurities or volatile substances”, so can be applied to generate a mild fever to get rid off the flu, or to boost the organs that clean the body (kidneys and liver mostly)

Congelation turns a solid by freezing, can boost the Water element, so all the “freezer spells” can be boosted with this.

Fixation? A volatile substance is transformed into a solid form? Sound pretty much to grounding, or to help to focus an ADHD head as mine, or to put down to earth someone who is VOLATILE AND VIOLENT. Also, Earth element.

Solution? Homogeneous mixture of two or more substances? It sounds like an aid to make two people on conflict to get into an agreement, or to boost a new business by mixing the opportunities with the action. Air element.

Digestion. A process in which gentle heat is applied to a substance over a period of several weeks? It sounds like something that can help any process that need digestion (bad news must be “digested”, hard choices must be “consulted with the pillow”), and the “gentle heat” sounds comforting. Someone is grieving? Maybe Digestion can help them to overcome the awful times.

Distillation. Separating the components or substances. Anything that need to be separated can be helped with this. Relationships that must end, breakups, cut the ties with older things or habits.

Sublimation. The transition of a substance. I heard trans rights? Can this maybe help with your hormones? Or even to transition from what you previously left behind with the distillation, to focus in a new better future.

Separation. Process of distinguishing to two or more substance in order to obtain purity. How to choose from two or more choices? How to pick the better one? The one with purity? Separation maid aid.

Ceration. A hard, dry is heated to make it softer. Make that person less frigid, make the boss less bitchy, make your chronic pain less hurtful, make your bills less heavy, all that you can think in make softer.

Fermentation/ Putrefaction. I personally love this one. Produces changes in organic substrates and decomposition of organic matter by bacterial or fungal digestion. Prime element to curses. All what you want to rid off in the most disgusting way. May their flesh get rotten under a car in a hot summer.

Multiplication. Process to increase the potency of the elixir in order to increase the gains in the subsequent projection. MONEY MONEY MAKE MORE MONEY, all what need to be increased and all what you want to multiply, go go go!

Projection. Transmute a lesser substance into a higher form “lead into gold”. Perfect to get better as a person, to learn to adapt, accept, to grow compassion, love, etc.

At this you can add the Units, the metals and mundane elements, the 4 elements, the tria prima, your crystals and herbs and sigils and all. And your spells will be filled with components and correspondences.

What’s better, a lot of the physical elements are not too hard to get (some yes, they are, but you are not here to make lead into gold with a full set of chemistry), but alchemy use a lot of symbology, so even if you don’t have the physical element, you can use their properties with the symbol, just as any other sigil.

Salt is easy. Tin in a food can. Antimony in mostly all the rocks. Arsenic in apple seeds (technically no but still). Cobalt and Manganese basically everywhere. Magnesium in your own body. Nickel in coins. Oxygen in the air., Phosphorus, Zinc and Sulfur in food. Acid in anything acid lol. Aqua vitae in alcohol (especially Whisky). Vinegar in vinegars.

Long story short, if you feel that maybe you are lacking something, check some books about alchemy would maybe help. Don’t pick super chemical specific pro books and don’t be discouraged by the terms, pick what can be useful to you, and I hope this open some doors and bring more curiosity about this amazing topic.

#witchcraft #witch #pagan #paganism #witchy #witches #witchblr #alchemy

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mecania · 11 months ago

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i don't like a lot of discussions i've seen regarding whether radahn said yes or not to the vow for a couple reasons. 1) it's never tied into the greater theme of bodily autonomy/the loss of it in elden ring and is instead only ever brought up to make miquella seem worse and 2) i think it's not supposed to be the MAJOR focus regarding radahn becoming miquella's consort (yes you can still discuss it and i will).

I really do believe the reason why there's no solid proof in the story (aside from freyja, who is an important member of radahn's army, blatantly stating radahn would've wanted this. not saying to take everything at face value but her character does seem reliable enough when talking about radahn) is because that's not the point regarding miquella and radahn's vow. there is emphasis on mohg's body being used against his wishes but not radahn. if the game wanted to let you know it was not what radahn wanted they would've said it clearly because ansbach does so for mohg. radahn and miquella's unity (or rather failure to unite) is supposed to be representative of miquella's failures due to his misunderstanding of the world and the golden order. at the end of the day radahn and miquella do share similar enough motivations

the reason why radahn most likely sought to become miquella's consort is because miquella does not intend to usurp the golden order. miquella infact is representative of regression. his unalloyed needle returns things to its former state, his nascent state prior kept him in an ever looping cycle of nearing the crest of ascension and then going back to the beginning... he is literally the son of radagon, whose major contribution to golden order fundamentalism is the concept of return and regression being a way to achieve unity and completion. miquella is trying to restore the golden order to what he believes it once was, hence why he follows his mother's path. he seeks the land of shadow and abandons his flesh there because that is the root of marika's journey, by allowing himself to be rebirthed anew in this banished place of marika's psyche he brings the shadow to light in an attempt to integrate it into his new self. he completes this ascension at the same site marika ascended: the gates of divinity. the only example we have of a demigod who ascends successfully (i personally don't think marika is supposed to be viewed as a successful ascension) after shedding their flesh is ranni, who purposefully does not pick the same path as marika and rather seeks a defiance of the golden order's laws. regression and its failures is the whole point of the dlc. it is why we fell characters like messmer who are not carving a solution to a problem but rather are allowing a reignition of it, continuing the cycle of karmic accumulation and retribution after reincarnation.

importantly the basis of radahn's loyalty to the golden order is that he idolises what it was before, not what it is now. his appraisal for godfrey and also his friendly relation with messmer is meant to show you that he is a follower of the ideal that the golden order has fallen victim to some sort of degredation of its 'true values' over time. godfrey ushered in the new age through battle, and his consortship to marika marked the start of the golden order's reign. as for messmer, messmer is upholding the crucial foundation for the golden order's existence; marika's spite for the hornsent, but as i mentioned prior... his crusades against the hornsent only serve to repeat the cycle of violence, and by extension this makes radahn related to the ideas of stagnation and repetition. godfrey and messmer can be considered the building blocks of the current era, but both were banished and had their image ruined in the favour of some sort of progression/shroud over the origins of the golden order. like miquella, radahn is the son of radagon, and he boasts his red hair in honour of his father; yet again, the most important establisher of regression in golden order fundamentalism. in truth the impacts of the golden order we see now have always been the true values it has upheld, but like miquella, radahn doesn't see that. all of this aligns radahn well enough with miquella, both characters have always served to 'fix' the golden order rather than destroy it and establish their own orders.

it is also why miquella and radahn are an incestuous involvance. why they make a point of having miquella refer to radahn as his lord brother. they are both regressing so fucking hard they fall back on the 'true' heirs to the golden lineage; themselves, which is yet again another idea of purity and perfection as put out by the conservative ideation of the golden order. (the circle, the symbol of unity, which is also an everlasting loop closing in on itself. hence why miquella's choice is radahn. whereas ranni picks you, a tarnished who was exiled from the lands between and has no prior relation to her family. yet another way she breaks the concept of regression and recirculation)

it can matter on a larger scale when we are discerning the meta narrative and what this means for us, the viewers, and what we can retrieve from this. but in this case, both radahn AND miquella demonstrate how systems like the golden order strip one of their self autonomy in the name of a greater, holier force that must be worshipped (the concept of a percect leader and empire). miquella rescinds what makes him himself (his love) because of his attempt to participate in this system, even if he means to 'reform' it (which is clearly impossible if you know literally any amount of political theory at all). radahn lacks his own identity and defines himself via others. because he strives to be the perfect servant and defender of the system. hence why this also applies to malenia, she gives herself up fully to miquella in hopes of ushering in his era. but i literally have not seen any discussion about this when it comes to saying radahn might've said no... it's not discussed in an interesting way and instead seems like an excuse to place miquella as a sort of black and white villain.

#elden ring #fromsoft #i love miquella but if you're going to hate on him hate on him for the right reasons 🤷‍♀️

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lime-ether · 6 months ago

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IVY AND FEY

CHARACTERS SHEETS

Ivy and Fey are original characters , My Oc's

BY @lime-ether (that me)

Ivy is a dangerous opponent in combat, does not belong to any fandom. She does not have a traditional home, instead she lives in the Void, where she keeps various things and souvenirs from other worlds. Hates being alone, is a chaotic personality, can be loving towards friends or aggressive towards others. She has symptoms of ADHD that manifest in her behavior.

Fey, during his life, was engaged in legal affairs and was a good lawyer. After his death, he became a ghost who helps Ivy in her adventures. Fey has a calm and level-headed nature that balances Ivy chaotic nature. He often gives her advice and support, helping her cope with difficulties.

The relationship between Ivy and Fey complicated but deep. Fey acts as a mentor and friend to Ivy, helping her control her chaotic impulses and find her way through difficult situations. Their interactions show a balance between chaos and order, impulsiveness and judgment.

Some facts

Ivy collects souvenirs from the various worlds she visits, storing them in the Void.

Fey, being a ghost, has the ability to pass through walls and remain undetected, making him a valuable ally in Ivy adventures.

below i talk about the strengths and weaknesses of Ivy and Fey, about ivy's strength and just an old bonus related to the lore from which these two "from "

Ivy

Strengths

Ivy is a skilled fighter capable of defeating even the most formidable opponents.

Resourcefulness: She uses her magical thread for portals, protection, and healing, making her unpredictable in combat.

Ivy values her friends deeply and is willing to risk her life to protect them.

Fearless in the face of danger, she takes on even the toughest challenges.

Charisma: Her sarcasm, humor, and occasional flirting can distract enemies and attract allies.

Weaknesses

Impulsiveness: Ivy often acts without thinking, which can lead to serious consequences.

Emotional Instability: Her struggle with inner demons and her need for recognition can cloud her judgment.

In a state of hunger, Ivy can lose control and become dangerous to everyone around her.

She craves feeling needed and loved, which makes her emotionally vulnerable.

Her Past: Her connection to "creator" and the Void sometimes pulls her back into chaos, a part of her nature she fights to overcome.

Fey

Strengths

Intelligence: Fey’s sharp mind allows him to analyze situations and find solutions effectively.

Calm and composed, he helps others stay grounded during tough times.

As a spirit, Fey can shapeshift and remain undetected, making him perfect for gathering information or escaping danger.

Fey is unconditionally supportive of Ivy, even when he doesn’t agree with her actions.

His calm nature makes him adept at resolving conflicts.

Weaknesses

As a spirit, Fey lacks the ability to directly engage in physical combat with water enemys. Can't really touch any liquid, feel agony .

Perfectionism: His need for order can create tension with Ivy’s chaotic nature.

Fey rarely shows his feelings, which can create a barrier between him and others.

Tether to the Past: His life as a lawyer before death drives his need to protect everyone, even when unnecessary.

Dependency on Ivy: Fey’s strong bond with Ivy makes him lose objectivity if she’s in danger.

Ahem about Ivy's powers

THREADS

The sensation of the thread feels cold to the touch for an ordinary person, even if held for a long time. It is smooth but not slippery, slightly rough, like copper wire. It feels heavy, as if it were a small chain or a piece of dense metal; the thread seems heavier than it should be. Its weight resembles that of a chain made of solid gold. It shines in the light like liquid gold, but this shine dulls at certain angles; when magic is used, it glows. When Ivy moves or stretches it, a light metallic ringing can be heard, similar to the sound of a bell, but with a muffled undertone that creates a strange sensation.

The feeling during the stitching of a living body, as when Ivy stitched a gentleman's arm, does not create a sensation of pain. Instead, it feels like a cool, silky touch that causes a slight tingling, as if magic is penetrating the body. Once the thread is "sewn" into the body, the wound begins to pulse with a warm wave, and the pain gradually fades away. During the stitching of the wound, the thread does not melt or dissolve but gradually "disappears" into the body, integrating with it and healing the damage.

For Ivy, the thread always feels light, like air. While using it, she feels how the thread "lives" in her hands: it stretches as if pulsing with gentle waves of magic, ready to obey her command.

The thread is almost impossible to break with ordinary means. Its strength is akin to being unbreakable, but Ivy can tear it magically by concentrating. The thread remains cold even at the highest temperatures. It cannot be melted by fire or dissolved by acid. It has high magical conductivity (specifically for Ivy), but not for electricity. The magical energy within the thread pulses with a faint golden light.

When Ivy uses magic, she feels a thread begin to “rise” from deep within her eyes. It doesn't cause pain, but the sensation is like a light tingling, as if tiny streams of warmth pulse from the depths of her skull to the surface. Her vision momentarily dims with a golden hue as the thread emerges, like a living thing awaiting commands.

It’s like a pulling action, but without physical effort, as the thread itself “slips out,” smoothly and effortlessly, as if knowing where it needs to go. A gentle warmth spreads around her eyes, but there’s no fatigue or discomfort—rather, it’s a soothing feeling of control.

The moment the thread touches the air, it begins to glow with a golden light. This soft luminescence intensifies if the magic is amplified. Ivy can see in the dark thanks to this glow, which gently illuminates everything around her, like the light of a candle flame; she can regulate its intensity.

When Ivy chooses to use her fingers, it's a completely different sensation. She feels her fingertips fill with a pulsating pressure, similar to a light tingling, but with a sense of depth. It feels as if her fingers temporarily become conductors of something larger—magic that flows from her and transforms into a physical form.

The moment the thread begins to emerge, she feels the last joint on each finger grow warm, but this warmth doesn't burn; it simply reminds her of the living force within her body. The golden coating on her fingers helps her control this process, and each movement of her finger seems to “unravel” an invisible ball of thread inside her.

As the thread emerges, it unfurls in the air with a soft whisper, like a light fabric, and feels like silk wrapping around her fingers.

PORTALS

When Ivy decides to create a portal, she first concentrates, almost freezing. Her body tenses, and the air around her seems heavier, as if filled with magical energy. She takes a deep breath, and the space around her becomes noticeably denser.

Her hands begin to move in the air, as if she's trying to "feel" the invisible fabric of the world. At first, it's like swimming lightly in water, but with each sweep, her fingers encounter something invisible—a pressure that feels cold and resistant, like a strong wind hitting her palms.

When she "touches" this resistance, her nails, covered in a golden glow, seem to grow into the fabric of the world. She pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath, and sharply pulls her hands in opposite directions. At that moment, space seems to tear—with a loud crack and a flash of gold. Before her, a portal appears: shimmering, framed by threads of golden light that flutter like fabric in the wind.

The portal looks like a rip in reality, through which another place can be seen. Its edges flicker and shift, as if they are always in motion. It is both beautiful and frightening—like looking into the eyes of something otherworldly.

Ivy calmly walks through it, and the portal disappears behind her as suddenly as it appeared, leaving only a brief flash of gold.

Portals created by Ivy have a "lifespan" that depends on the amount of residual magic. If a portal is created for a quick passage, it closes automatically immediately after she or her companions have passed through. Ivy's magic "senses" when the task is complete and closes the tear. Sometimes, when the portal closes, Ivy subconsciously performs the sealing in mere seconds. Her movements are so fast that it looks like the portal simply vanishes. In this case, the sealing process is automatic for her, but she still performs it, without even realizing it.

Manually sealing a portal is only necessary when she wants to leave the portal open longer, or if the tear becomes unstable and begins to expand, threatening to distort reality.

When Ivy wants to close a portal, she uses her golden threads. First, she carefully approaches the tear, almost bowing before it, as if before a living being. She takes a deep breath, touches the edge of the tear with her fingers, from which threads flow, and begins to "sew" it up.

The process looks as if she's literally stitching the fabric of the world, pulling the edges of the portal together. The threads shine with gold, and each stitch emits a warm light. As the threads pass through the portal's fabric, they leave behind a barely noticeable scar in space, which gradually dissolves, leaving everything in its original state.

After the stitching is complete, the thread completely dissolves, and the space becomes smooth, as if the portal never existed. But if you look closely, you can see a faint golden shimmer, a reminder that magic was once there.

Bonus about the Thread-Clothing

The scarf Ivy wears around her waist looks like a delicate ornament, shimmering golden in the sunlight. But in reality, this scarf is so dense that it weighs more than many full sets of knightly armor. For Ivy, it's simply part of her attire, light and imperceptible, but if she removes the scarf and gives it to someone else, the consequences can be staggering.

A person who tries to hold the scarf will feel its unbearable weight literally crushing into their body. Their shoulders might start to crack from the strain, and their forearm bones will break under the pressure, seemingly impossible for such apparently delicate fabric. The person will fall to their knees, unable to even let go of the scarf—it seems to live its own life, pressing them to the ground. ( and this is a light 'cute' version of what will happen to that person tbh)

The scarf isn't just heavy; its texture changes under pressure, constricting limbs, leaving bruises, and, in extreme cases, even tearing the skin. Within seconds, the person is immobile, their body contorting in agony, their breathing becoming shallow due to pressure on their chest.

At the same time, the scarf has incredible strength. Even the sharpest swords cannot cut it, bullets bounce off its surface without leaving even the slightest trace. It also serves as protection for Ivy herself—in case of attack, she can use it as a kind of shield, or even as a weapon, enveloping her opponent and neutralizing them effortlessly (for example, breaking their spine or pulverizing their face).

Besides scarves or accessories, Ivy is capable of creating entire garments from her thread. For example, if she knits a sweater, it will be so strong that it can protect against the most powerful blow or explosion from some GOD. But only Ivy herself can wear this clothing. For others, it would be so heavy that even attempting to lift it would be nearly impossible.

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gaysindistress · 1 year ago

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Limits of a Fae Heart - six

Pairings: Azriel x Reader

Summary: With war looming over their heads, the Inner Circle is desperate for a solution. The one they found comes in the form of a resurrected female who’s fated to not only their Shadowsinger but once to their enemy as well.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: cursing, blood, gore, fighting and war canon level violence, detailed emotional description of torture. Reader is tortured but the description is more focused on her emotional state rather than the physical actions. The king makes an appearance so that’s a whole warning in itself.

One | two | three | four | five

A/n: I did things a little differently for the final part and the last half of this is in Azriel’s pov. It’s marked with his name as the heading so it’s clear when it switches!

taglist: @isa1b2h3 @dr4g0ngirl @sidthedollface2 @p4ndawrites

Time stands still.

The minutes cease to pass and the hours come to a halt.

The light of day fails to pass through the barred windows, blanketing this cell in darkness.

The places shadows may have danced are nothing but voids of that same darkness.

Night and day bleed together with no marker of the passage of time that occurs.

Food comes at irregular times to prevent me from gaining a sense of time.

Time stands still after what feels like a millennia of isolation and solitude.

The King made his presence within hours of Azriel and I drifting to sleep. He called for me from the war camp and beckoned me to him as he waited for me with a cruel smile. Taunting words and terrifying threats were thrown at me but none shook me to my corner than the sight of seven Ravens converging upon the tent where Azriel slept. Whatever magic the king had used to hide himself from us extended to his warriors, rendering Azriel defenseless as he slept completely unaware of the dangers that lurked around him. The bond begged me to wake him, warn him at all but I pushed it down and forced it to be silent as I faced the king. Any attempt to wake my sleeping mate would ultimately lead to his brutal torture and death.

The king glowered at me as he watched me try to scramble a plan together but seemingly to no avail. The shadows that had bound me the night before followed me and anxiously waited for me to give them a command in the treeline behind me. As the king told me of his plans to take Prythian by siege, I sent the shadows away and told them to hide until we left. They cried and writhed from their place in the trees but didn’t rush towards me.

“Tell him that everything will be okay. Tell him to not worry about me. Tell him everything you hear now and take him back to Velaris. Make sure that Rhysand gets the information he needs and keep Azriel safe. Do not let him come for me; matter what he does or says, do not let him come for me,” I’d whispered to the distressed creatures and they listened. Their cries of agony and anguish could be heard for miles but they listened to me and did not find their singer until the King took me back to Hybern.

Now it is here in Hybern that I’m facing the consequences of my actions; the effects of allowing myself to feel anything other than suffering. With my arms held up by chains and my wings outstretched in a painful way, having been bolted to the ceiling above, I'm forced to kneel on the unforgiving stone floor of my cell. Whatever blood that coursed through my veins seems to become solid as it has stopped leaking from my wounds. My breathing is so swallow and soft that anyone passing by would assume that my body was left up as a warning to all other prisoners.

However those who know better, those who know what other signs of life to watch for, don’t dare to come any closer to me, the beast of his own making.

A male appears at the entrance of the cell with a disgusted look on her pale features. Moving as he is one with the air, he flicks his wrist and the gates unlock before he steps into the cell. The smell makes him wrinkle his nose and hold his head higher to block out any stench. As if you escape the stench of death and blood in a place like this.

I'm at the center of the room, unmoving but chuckle lightly when I sense that he’s near.

“Come to torture me some more?” I ask.

The King of Hybern sneers at me for speaking to him and with another flick of his wrist, I groan out in pain. My body tenses from the pain that was inflicted upon it but aside from the low groan, I make no other indication that his actions harmed me.

“I need answers.”

“Ask and I’ll decide if I’m feeling generous today.”

He stalks around me, ducking under my massive wings, dragging a sharp blade nail down the sensitive and aching muscles. Once again I can’t react even though we both know that the pain threatens to take my consciousness.

“That little Shadowsinger has ruined you,” he sneers again as he finishes his predatory circles and kneels down to get a better look at my face. “He’s made you think that you have any value outside of being my little spy.”

I lift my head only enough to lock eyes with him, my irises flickering with rebellion and hatred as I speak, “I’m not your spy anymore. I haven’t been for years now otherwise you wouldn’t be pulling risky moves trying to one up a pompous High Lord and his band of friends.”

The king cuts me off with a dagger through one of my wings but I only howl out in laughter, throwing my head back to fully reveal my face to the guards at the entrance. They shrink back when they see my face covered in dirt and caked in blood. My features are severe and sharp thanks to the thick layer of filth but achingly beautiful nonetheless. Arched brows raise at the King’s frustration and a laugh ghosts on my lips. My flaming eyes never leave his as I smirk at the attempt to hurt me and gather information.

“Do not speak to me like I’m some foul beast.”

My voice is harsh but soft, calm but chaotic, dark but light as I speak, “The only foul thing that I know of is you, the Failed King of Hybern. Or do you simply prefer your highness now? I’m not privy to the gossip of the world anymore.”

The King pulls a face of coldness and stone the moment I start speaking again but it falters at the last name that I call him. His eyes flicker with disgust as he poses his own question, “Who are you to demean and belittle me for my actions? Have you forgotten that you were…”

A smirk widens across my face as I cut him off, “There will come a day when all those you have come to trust will turn on you and you will be forced to become the male you truly are. And when that day comes, I will happily watch you burn the world you’ve come to love.”

Death hadn’t been a sweet release from the torment I lived through under the King’s violent rule nor in the arms of a male I thought I loved more than myself. Instead I spent years in limbo on my island, never fully dying but never fully living. The only reprieve I’ve found in it all is the fact that I can’t feel the bond to the king anymore. There is nothing where that jagged line used to be and it’s been silent in my head where he used to torment me day in and day out.

However it’s rather short lived.

Now as I’ve been brought back, life is proving to be just as painful as before. What little peace and joy I’d thought I’d found was destroyed when the king took me. I don’t know how long it’s been but I’ve felt nothing but my own suffering and Azriel’s through the bond. Every second of every day I feel his despair as he searches for me, tugging at our thread in attempts to reach me. I feel his disappointment and heartbreak when I don’t respond, when I can’t respond. Not a moment goes by in this cell where I don’t feel every single step he takes towards a complete downward spiral.

A downward spiral of my own is fast approaching as I awake to the sounds of battle surrounding me. Fallen warriors scream from their lethal wounds while monsters created by dark magic laugh as they devour all around them. A female’s earth shattering scream follows the sound of bones cracking. I snap my head to the side where I see Nesta holding a broken Cassian while the King looms over them. He turns to look where the Ravens deposited me in a heap of torn flesh and weeping wounds.

“Come,” he beckons to me and I feel the sharp teeth of his naga hounds sink into my wings and drag me towards him.

Nesta’s eyes are wide with panic as she looks between Cassian and me but she hardens her face and stares at the king.

The hounds halt with a jarring tear to my wings and I let out a shaky cry. One comes to stand before me, holding eye contact with me as it just stands there. I have half a mind to tug on my bun but something tells me that it wouldn’t work. The hound lets its jaw drop as a deathlike scream rips from it and through the still tense air around us.

The call of inevitable death.

This is the long awaited end that I thought would never come and I can’t help but welcome it.

I’m tired.

So tired.

There is only so much of myself I could’ve given and I reached my limit the day that the king left me on that island. I reached that limit years ago and now I welcome the release even if by the jaws of a naganound. What a sweet release it would be to allow myself this one peace, a peace that no one can take from me now.

The hound shutters while several more start to circle me. I can feel their eyes boring into me, begging their master to give them the command so they can attack finally. They grunt and growl at me. Their unspoken message is the same as the one that sings from my heart:

Give in. Give up. Let it take you. Give in. Give up. Let it take you. Give in. Give up. Let it take you.

I don’t see the king give the command until they descend upon me like starving wolves who haven’t eaten a good meal in months.

I barely feel their teeth or their claws as they rip and tear at my body. Like true servants of the king, they attack my wings first and shred at the membranous limbs. My vision becomes blurry as tears fill my eyes. Agonizing pain radiates from my back and threatens to crush me but I don’t move. My pulse races even though I tell it to calm down. It’s half panicked, half confused but knowing all the same. I can’t stop this.

Nesta and Cassian can’t help either. Azriel…

Sweet sweet Azriel.

He is nowhere to be seen and I thank whatever gods and goddess that are listening that he isn’t here.

My ears fill with the sounds of tearing flesh and the squelch of blood while an endless sleep begs for me to close my eyes. My head feels light, everything around me starting to spin and darken. A feeling of nausea creeps up as the coppery smell of my blood invades my nose.

I let them tear my wings from my body no matter how much pain it brings me. I had loved them, cared for them, and protected them my entire life. They’ve been my prized possession for so long, a symbol of the strength that I’ve created and wielded. A symbol of my strength and mine alone. I hated them at first because of who wanted to take advantage of them but as I learned to exist with them, I learned to carry them with pride. I never forgot that it was my wings that landed me in the clutches of the king but there is a dignity in creating good out of evil and I had done that with them. I had created good with these wings no matter how evil others wanted them to be.

A weight is dropped from my back and I hear two thuds in the mud around me. The nagahounds stop their assault on me once my wings hit the ground and move their attention to them. Every breath I take, albeit ragged and shallow, sends waves of throbbing pain through my back and chest. It’s exhausting and I feel truly sick as I watch them play with my wings like they’re toys. Sweat is pouring from my forehead, my hands are clammy and trembling and my teeth are gritted. For a second I consider listening to my body which is telling me to let go, to give up and fall in the arms of that endless sleep. I take a deep breath, then another and then another. It becomes harder and harder to swallow the pain, to ignore the sensations and the voices soothing me to sleep.

So I stop fighting it and allow it to take me.

A state of calm returns to my mind and a warmth washes over me. I drop my head into the mud and it threatens to drown me but my inner peace won’t let me care. With hooded eyes, I stare as the nagahounds continue to tear my wings apart.

I feel nothing.

After what seems like forever, I hear the muffled sounds of those deathlike screams and someone calling my name. The voice calling my name begs for me to keep my eyes open and stay with them.

It’s useless to call me back from the brink of death but this voice does it nonetheless. Strong arms lift me and I’m cradled against an equally strong and blazing warm chest. A gentle wave of cedar and chilled mist scent washes over me as I let my heavy head rest between their jaw and shoulder. Whispered gilded words of reassurance take the place of the sounds of my wing’s destruction. My eyes flutter closed as I let myself find another peace in the embrace of these familiar arms. I barely feel us winnow from the battlefield before everything fades to black.

Azriel

What the fuck did that bastard do?

What could have possessed him to do this to her? To my mate?

Her rapidly cooling forehead against my neck feels like a blade slicing through my skin and it takes everything in me to not winnow back to the battlefield and slaughter the king.

Her breathing is slow, too slow and her pulse is so weak. Fear grips my insides as I winnow us into the Town House. I almost crumble to my knees when I’m wrapped in the familiar scent of my home and it gently whispers to me “you’re safe. Rest easy now.”

“Madja!” I shout into the air, hoping that the healer remained here. Madja peaks her head out of the sitting room and curses under her breath before disappearing back into the sitting room.

“Azriel,” she calls appears at the doorway, waving me in. As soon as I enter the room, she orders me to set y/n face down on one of the couches and hands me a pair of scissors to cut away the rest of her shirt. The scissors tremble in my hand as I gingerly cut at the bloody fabric and expose the mess of torn flesh and muscle. The healer glances at my shaking hands and puts hers on them, stopping them for a moment. Gentle brown eyes watch my chest rise and fall rapidly and her brows furrow even more.

“If this is too much, I can call someone else,” she tells me in her ever soothing tone.

I shake my head, strands of hair falling into my and add to the wild look I no doubt have about me. She doesn’t seem to want me there anymore but she permits me to stay and takes the scissors.

“Fetch me a basin with fresh water and a cloth please.”

She’s giving me a task so I don’t become frozen in shock. It fails the moment my hands are emptied. With nothing to ground me to this reality, all I can do is stand there and stare at y/n’s back where her wings once stood tall and proud. Her usual comforting cent is fading around us. Her aura is cooling. Her breathing is even slower. Her pulse is too weak for me to hear.

It’s all fading.

She is fading.

Madja gives the task to the town house instead and instructs me to sit. A chair appears behind me and with a flick of her wrist, she urges me to sit. I do. Fall more like it though.

I’d been cutting down several Ravens when I felt her side of the bond awaken again. The wall that had been separating us for weeks now came crumbling down and I was hit with every ounce of emotion that had been kept from me. Being hit with weeks worth of her suffering and yearning to be home nearly dropped me to my knees. I’d sent my shadows out to find her and within moments, I was on my knees in front of her with tears in my eyes.

Even alone Madja makes quick work of cleaning and bandaging the base of her torn wings. Once satisfied with her work, she moves on to the smaller but no less significant claw and teeth marks. My shadows nuzzle against me, making soft whining noise and distracting me from the wreckage of flesh before me. I drop my forearms to my thighs and let the shadows wrap themselves around me. Their embrace is the closest to a hug they can give me but I’ll take it.

“Is she alive?” I find myself asking before I realize it.

Madja looks at me with raised brows, “You can hear her heartbeat can’t you?”

I barely spare her a glance from beneath my lashes.

Thump thump.

I can hear it. It’s faint but I can hear it.

“Azriel,” Madja starts, “she’s lost a lot of blood. Her wings were quite literally torn from her body, there’s no telling the true extent of her injuries just yet.”

I lift my head with tears pricking my eyes and her tone softens. “But she’s alive. She will have a lengthy recovery ahead of her but she’s alive and most importantly she has you to thank for that.”

My jaw tightens and I bring a hand to rub at the taunt muscles. Flicks of blood paint the tan skin of my hand but I ignore them.

“I didn’t do anything. I let her be taken and held prisoner for weeks.”

Madja sighs and stills for a moment. She simply stares down at the unconscious Fae on the couch. “There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it and you know that. Do not commend yourself for things that you had no control over.”

A small gasp muffled by couch cushions draws all of our attention as she dips down to look at y/n’s face.

“Easy,” Madja mutters to her as she places a soft hand on the back of her head, “don’t try to move or you’ll hurt yourself more. You’re in Velaris and safe now.”

My shadows skitter around me and beg to go to my mate. I don’t let them and wait for Madja’s signal. She asks her if she would like to go to her room and there’s a weak but clear reply.

“Where is Azriel?”

Madja’s brown eyes flicker to me and she nods so I stand and walk on unsure legs to kneel before y/n. Even through the dirt and blood, this female is beautiful beyond compare and she’s looking at me like I’ve hung the moon and stars just for her.

“Azriel,” she whispers as tears start to fall and tentatively reaches a hand out to touch my face. It causes her a great deal of pain and she winces before dropping it and settling on grabbing my hand instead.

“I’m sorry. I'm so sorry,” I find myself repeating over and over again as I brush back her hair and squeeze her hand so tightly it might break.

She smiles at me in a way that completes me but also destroys me. I let all of this happen to her and yet she’s still happy to see me. “It’s not your fault,” she tells me. “You couldn’t have stopped me and I didn’t want you to.”

I want to ask her how it all happened, how did the king manage to take her that morning at the war camp but I can’t find the words. None of it seems to matter now that she’s here and he’s gone.

“Is he..is he dead?” She asks in that small, broken voice.

I nod and the sobs finally break free from her. Against my better judgment as well as Madja’s, I help her to sit up and pull her into my arms, careful to not touch her wounds. I guide her into my chest with a hand in her hair and another around her waist, gripping her thigh as she clings to me and sobs. Relief washes over me both my own and through the bond. My cheek comes to rest on her head as she hides her face in between my collar and jaw.

I’ve come to realize that in all of my 500 years, I’ve never known comfort and safety like I do now. Quite frankly I don’t know much at all but none of that matters when my mate, my sweet girl, my y/n is in my arms.

#limits of a fae heart az x reader #az imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #az x reader #a court of thorns and roses

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lulublack90 · 1 year ago

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Prompt 18 Neighbour AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 18, word count 991

Remus Lupin had one asset, and that was his parent’s house. It was in the middle of the Welsh countryside. It was a mile walk to the little village, and the only thing it had going for it was the barn. It was light and airy and smelled of wood.

Remus had spent a lot of time and effort converting it into a liveable space. The idea had been to sell it, but no one was interested in living so far away from the major cities. So, under the advice of his estate agent, he rented it out for short holidays.

So far, it had been quite lucrative. With the money he made from that and his own job, he could afford chocolate whenever he wanted.

The holiday season was coming, and he already had two weeks booked out. He tended to get a lot of city dwellers looking to get away from it all or families trying to get back to their roots.

He checked his emails one morning with a fresh cup of tea and a plate of crumpets. HE filtered out the junk and found an inquiry email in his barn folder. He opened it.

A man was looking to hire the barn for the full summer and all of September as well. He was looking at three months of solid booking. It was a shame he couldn’t offer it, having already booked those two weeks. And he refused to let down his other guests. He typed a reply stating as much. He got a reply back almost instantly, asking if there was somewhere he could pitch a small tent. Mr Black said he would gladly still pay full price while his other guests used the barn. Remus couldn’t believe what he was reading. It seemed too good to be true. He sent a couple of pictures of his personal garden. The views weren’t as good, but it would be sheltered from the worst of the wind, and he could use Remus’s garden furniture. Again, the reply was quick. The man agreed and said he hoped he wouldn’t be any bother.

Remus sent an invoice and got Mr Black to confirm he agreed to the price, and with the confirmation, he booked out the three months. He sat back with a pleased look on his face as he finished his crumpets. He just hoped that Mr Black would be a good neighbour as it was a long time to deal with a terrible guest.

July arrived, and with it, a sleek black motorbike and an equally sleek owner. Sirius, as he demanded to be called, settled in instantly. He played his music a little loudly, but as it was to Remus’s taste, he decided to enjoy it.

Remus found he quite enjoyed Sirius’s company, and they spent nearly every night in Remus’s garden drinking beers. Remus had even started making enough dinner for Sirius, though Sirius had told him he didn’t expect it but did appreciate it as he was useless at cooking.

It turned out that Sirius needed a break from his high-pressure job, which was why he’d come to Remus’s.

“I hate it. It’s been my life since my mother found out she was pregnant with me. They own the company now, but my brother and I run it. He’s so much better at it than I am, and I swear he’d have such an easier time at it if I quit.” Sirius had admitted to him one August afternoon.

“Then why don’t you quit?” Remus asked as though it were an obvious solution.

“Everything I own is tied up in the company. If I leave, I lose everything.” He shrugged. “My parents made sure it was that way after I went through a rebellious streak in my teenage years.”

“That’s terrible, Sirius. I wish I could help.” And Remus found he meant it.

“Don’t fret about it. I’ll muddle through.” Sirius beamed at him as he patted Remus’s leg. “Right, enough feeling sorry for myself. I’m off for a walk. Care to join me?” Remus couldn’t think of any reason not to, so he took the proffered hand, and they strolled towards the village.

Remus showed Sirius some of his favourite childhood haunts just off the beaten track, and they spent a wonderful afternoon in the thick foliage.

Soon, the first week came around when Sirius would have to sleep in his tent. And, of course, the worst storm to hit Wales in over a hundred years decided to arrive that night.

The trees were whipping back and forth, creaking and groaning. The fence surrounding Remus’s garden swayed dangerously. Remus refused to let Sirius stay out in this. He flung open the back door and yelled into the downpour.

“Sirius! Sirius!” A face popped out of the zippered entrance of the tent. “Get in here!” Sirius shook his head.

“I’m all good. Don’t fret.”

Lightning cut across the sky, lighting the dark ground with its answering thunder not far behind.

“Sirius, please! I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re out here!”

Suddenly, Sirius was streaking across the lawn and ran straight into Remus’s arms, knocking the lanky man back a few steps. Lighting flashed across the sky again and then another and another. The last bolt hit the cherry blossom tree in Remus’s garden, and a huge branch fell off and crushed the tent Sirius had been in moments before.

“Yeah, probably a good call that Remus,” He joked. “Shall I put the kettle on?” Remus decided, not that he had much choice, that Sirius would be staying in his spare bedroom for the remainder of the two weeks. Maybe longer if the look Sirius was giving him meant what Remus thought it did. That night, they sat, snuggled up together on Remus’s tiny sofa in front of a roaring fire, sipping mugs of hot chocolate and listening to the storm wailing around them.

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iridescentmirrorsgenshin · 10 months ago

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Chapter Eight of An Emergency Decision is up! Thank you for your patience <3

Summary: Alhaitham offers to be Kaveh’s emergency contact in exchange for Kaveh acting as his. As to how things pertaining to Kaveh usually transpire, this does not go as planned, and a difficult truth comes to light.

Chapter Summary:

Here was the issue of regaining his lucid mental abilities. The solutions he pieced together were solid when looking to the evidence, but, in the broader scheme of things, they seemed unsatisfactory. He was questioning what he truly knew about Kaveh. Through all these years, when had he ever come close to achieving mutual understanding? They had come close, he had thought, in the aftermath of the Interdarshan Championship. Having gotten involved to research Sachin, having done so for Kaveh, and having presented his findings of Sachin’s influence over Kaveh’s father, there had been a softening after this. Kaveh and him were not their ideals – the basis of their misunderstanding. Once spoken, Kaveh appeared to have considered this, had thanked him. But beyond this, it was left unacknowledged. The events of the competition were undiscussed, and, despite Kaveh’s mollified state, his subdued personal attacks of Alhaitham’s character in their interactions following, nothing truly had changed. Broaching it once more was tenuous, which, in regard to Kaveh, was synonymous with futile. Considering this, considering everything - what was the most plausible trajectory of their relationship?

#haikaveh #kavetham #alhaitham #kaveh #alhaitham x kaveh #finalllly it's done!! thank you for all your support!!#i hope you like this chapter - it's the turning point for sure #next chapter shouldn't be as long of a wait!#and i have plans for a brainrot one-shot coming up hehehe <333

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enzaelectric · 3 months ago

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The Role of Relays and Timers in Industrial Automation Systems

In the world of industrial automation, efficiency, safety, and precision are crucial. Among the many components that contribute to a well-functioning automated system, relays and timers play a foundational role. These devices act as control elements that manage the flow of electricity, signal processes, and coordinate timing sequences — ensuring that operations run smoothly and safely.

In this article, we’ll explore how relays and timers work, their types, applications in automation systems, and how high-quality products — like those offered by Enza Electric — can enhance performance and reliability in industrial settings.

What Are Relays?

A relay is an electromechanical or electronic switch used to control a circuit by a separate low-power signal or multiple signals. In industrial automation, relays act as a bridge between the control system and the equipment being operated — allowing machines to be turned on or off automatically.

Types of Relays Commonly Used in Automation:

Electromechanical Relays (EMRs): Use physical moving parts; reliable and easy to maintain.

Solid-State Relays (SSRs): No moving parts; faster switching, longer lifespan, and better for high-speed applications.

Thermal Overload Relays: Protect motors and equipment from overheating.

Control Relays: Designed for controlling multiple contacts simultaneously in automation systems.

What Are Timers?

Timers are devices used to delay or repeat electrical signals at predetermined intervals. They help synchronize tasks, automate sequences, and provide controlled outputs over time — critical for complex industrial processes.

Common Timer Functions:

On-delay and off-delay timing

Interval timing

Cyclic or repeat cycle operation

Flashing and sequencing operations

Types of Timers:

Analog Timers: Manual dial settings, simple and cost-effective.

Digital Timers: Offer precise programming, displays, and flexible timing ranges.

Programmable Timers: Ideal for complex automation routines requiring multiple sequences.

Key Roles in Industrial Automation Systems

1. Process Control and Sequencing

Relays and timers enable automated machines to follow a specific sequence — turning motors, lights, or pumps on and off in a logical order. For example, a conveyor system can use a relay-timer combination to control material flow with millisecond precision.

2. Safety and Protection

Relays protect systems by interrupting circuits in case of faults. Combined with timers, they can ensure delay before activating emergency stop functions, preventing false triggers and increasing worker safety.

3. Load Management

In high-demand industrial environments, relays help manage load distribution by selectively energizing or de-energizing machinery. Timers assist in staggered starts, reducing power surges.

4. Energy Efficiency

By automating start/stop functions and managing operation durations, timers help reduce unnecessary energy use. Relays ensure only the necessary loads are powered, minimizing wastage.

5. System Monitoring and Feedback

In smart automation, relays provide feedback signals to the control system. Timers assist with diagnostics by creating intervals for testing or data collection.

Benefits of Using High-Quality Relays and Timers

Choosing the right components significantly impacts system performance and longevity. Enza Electric’s relays and timers are engineered with:

High durability for tough industrial environments

Precision timing for reliable operation

Easy installation and compact designs

Compliance with international safety and quality standards

By integrating Enza’s low-voltage solutions, businesses in the GCC, MENA, and Africa regions benefit from cost-effective, scalable automation that supports both current needs and future expansion.

Common Applications in Industrial Sectors

Manufacturing Plants: Control of motors, robotic arms, and production lines.

HVAC Systems: Timed control of fans, compressors, and dampers.

Water Treatment Facilities: Sequenced operation of pumps and valves.

Packaging Machinery: Relay and timer-based coordination of packing, sealing, and labeling.

Food and Beverage Industry: Process automation with hygiene-compliant controls.

Final Thoughts

Relays and timers are the silent operators behind the success of industrial automation systems. From process optimization to enhanced safety and energy management, these components are indispensable.

When sourced from a trusted manufacturer like Enza Electric, businesses are not only investing in reliable hardware but also in the longevity, scalability, and safety of their entire operation.

Ready to Power Your Automation?

Explore Enza Electric’s wide range of relays, timers, and other low-voltage switchgear solutions designed to meet the evolving demands of modern industries. Visit www.enzaelectric.com to learn more or request a quote today.

#electrical #switchgear #low voltage #dubai #uae

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rileys-battlecats · 3 months ago

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I need to know more about Buckfoot!

What was he like, from Shut Eye it seemed like he cared about Owlpaw, and since Birchspeckle was also his apprentice I’m curious on how that relationship was like. Also Was the medicine cats can’t have mates and kits rule enforced? Since he had Possum and Gully I assume the clan allowed it since they needed kits.

Buckfoot my beloved <3

They definitely cared a lot for Owlpaw/pounce. I think they appreciated that she could be what they could not—a bright light in a very dark time. Buckfoot was a realist, almost to a fault. They would tell it like it is, with only the slightest regard for bedside manner. They weren't abrasive per se, but they didn't always understand how to appeal to the emotional states of those they spoke with. They could try to be comforting, but might not always succeed (especially when talking to cats they didn't know quite as well). They had a unique talent for paring a situation down to the most essential facts, and then exploring potential solutions to problems from there. Because of this clear-eyed outlook, they were often sought after for their advice. Their faith in Starclan was iron-clad, and they were still a deeply spiritual cat, even while being firmly rooted in the living world and its realities.

Owlpaw wasn't their first apprentice, but she was perhaps the first one that they truly felt called to teach. Owlpaw was so very different from them, but she was different in a good way. A difference that made them more balanced. After the disaster, she would look to Buckfoot as the one part of her life that was stable. When everything else was thrown into flux, Buckfoot was like a boulder in the middle of a raging river, solid and unmoving. That steadiness carried her through the months and years proceeding the disaster.

Birchspeckle was an unexpected addition to the healers. Owlpaw was still in training when Micaclan found Birchkit. Birch was a prodigy in spiritual matters, dreaming of Starclan and seeing ghosts long before even meeting any of Micaclan's members, but was not old enough to be taught when they found her. Months later, Buckfoot ended up teaching both Owlpaw and Birchpaw simultaneously, which was unprecedented in Micaclan's history. Traditionally, the thought was that if two apprentices had to share a mentor, then one would inevitably end up being favored over the other, even if unintentionally. In this case, Buckfoot turned the training into an opportunity for Owlpaw; she would learn far more effectively by helping to teach Birchpaw right alongside her mentor. When Owlpaw became Owlpounce, she continued to help Buckfoot in teaching Birchpaw. Before they could finish training, though, Buckfoot ended up passing away, and Owlpounce took on the final stretch of Birchpaw's instruction. The three of them were a very close-knit group, and Buckfoot's loss was hard on both Owl and Birch. They consider themselves to be closer to peers than mentor-and-apprentice, even if Owlpounce did end up teaching Birchspeckle's final lessons before becoming a full healer.

The rule about medicine cats and families was never really enforced in Micaclan, doubly so after the disaster when their numbers were so low. Possum and Gully would have known who their other parent was, though I imagine Buckfoot being slightly more hands-off in their parenting style. The type to be like "if they need something, they know they can come to me. otherwise i'll leave them to their exploring".

#ask #mudlore #buckfoot #if you're thinking about the timeline of this shhhhhh pretend it all makes sense I haven't put enough thought into this yet

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materialsscienceandengineering · 3 months ago

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The Solid State and Materials Research Group has come up with a lithium ion capacitor using electrodes produced from wood particles that are discarded as waste in sawmills. This biomass is very easily available across the Basque Country, and sustainable, inexpensive processes have been used to produce electrodes. The results reveal that the materials derived from biomass have excellent properties for obtaining eco friendly, cost-effective systems designed to store high-power energy. In the quest for sustainable energy solutions capable of meeting the energy needs of modern society, energy storage systems play a hugely important role; indeed, "in the field of renewable energies we cannot control the wind, heat, light, etc. that nature offers us. And the energy demand sometimes does not coincide with the energy supply; so resources need to be developed to store that energy produced by renewable systems," explained Eider Goikolea, a researcher in the Solid State and Materials Research Group.

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al-hekima-madara-blog · 7 months ago

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Yin Yang Generality (Part 1/2)

My goal was initially to talk about the Yin/Yang concept in Naruto, but I realise I have first to explain a little bit what I mean by that so we're all in the same page. kudos to @shisui-uchiha-rp for inspiring me this double post.

Disclaimer : Usually people reading me are quite smart but who knows some people don't get use to my style. There is no meliorative or derogative values behind Yin/Yang or Female/masculine if you feel that one is better than the other. IT'S ON YOU. The author is not your mum, not your therapist, not your teddy bear to vent upon. If you don't feel comfortable and triggered here are my solutions : move on from my post, unfollow, or even block. But if you're high IQ, open minded, not self-centred or just generally curious and well-behaved then welcome and keep reading.

The duality is probably one of the oldest concept in metaphysic. It's presented in many cosmologies to explain the origin of the world. After the Unicity or primordial chaos comes the duality of opposite forces: Positive/Negative Light/Darkness, Up/Down, Heaven/Earth. A bit like the cells division in biology. You don't go from 1 to 8. You go first 1 splitting in 2 splitting in 4 splitting in 8... So duality is the matrice of any system. It's the fundamental for the law of nature, the balance in the universe and its complex beauty. It's not Yin against Yang, or Yin>Yang or Yang>Ying. It's about how Yin and Yang balance each other to create stability, order and peace.

What's Yang?

I like to represent it as a centrifugal force. A cyclonic energy expanding outside of itself. And by expanding , it takes place and when you take place, it grows. You create motions and frictions that create disruption and may lead to violence. Going outside can also means transcending an initial state. Looking for answer outside of oneself. Exploration of the unknown. To pierce and penetrate others. You've probably heard that sky crappers or obelisks are sometimes referred as phallic symbol, it's due to their shape that represent the will to project power vertically out and above others. Being the number one. The process of individuation, ego, independence, but in positive way, being able to assert one's will and not fearing judgement.

Yang is often associated with light because it's also acting in the open, unmasked, direct and loud language, explosive presence, rational.

An other thing coming to my mind, Yang energy is like an arrow or a missile going straight to the point.

In the negative, it can also being associate with escapism, distance, scattering when the ambition goes to far, separation, division, detachment, dryness. Ultraviolence, megalomania, destruction.

What's Yin?

The opposite is the centripetal force. Think about a spinning vortex, a black hole. Or just water whirling in your sink. The centripetal motion brings both the idea of cycle and gravity and when you extend the move to its maximum, the centre reaches immobility. And if you go even further you have high pressure exerts on a small spot.

In nature, do you know what's happened when carbon is submit to an extreme pressure in the depth of Earth's mantle? It crystallises into a diamond. And the diamond's attribute, except its beauty, has the highest hardness and thermal conductivity of any natural material. It's indestructible. It facilitates vibration. It's solid!

Hence why someone known for an extreme mastery of Yin energy is said to be intense. Because the spiritual core of this person is so strong, that the mere presence into a room is enough to create "gravity" toward them. It doesn't matter if the person is attractive or not, good or mean. Yet they have this thing...this magnetic charisma that hypnotises people.

Yin energy refers to obscurity, what is hidden, invisible, cold, passive, receptive, and wet. Observe again nature : a DNA nucleus, the pit of a fruit, seed, or the star in a solar system is the most important part. It's the roots. the raw material from whom everything else proceed and rotate. It is extremely powerful because it contains all potentials.

Something you can't see always seem more powerful and menacing that something that you can observe and measure. Imagination is always infinite compare to reality and its limitation. For instance : there is a lion in front of you, you might have a tiny chance to survive if you run away. But if I tell you there is a lion...somewhere around you. It seems suddenly the animal is everywhere and you can't prepare yourself from something you can't see. The paranoia will imagine that the slightest wind is the beast ready to jump on your throat. But maybe it's not true, maybe the lion doesn't exist at all and yet in your imagination it was very real!

Contrary to Yang which is direct and straight. Yin is curvy, suggestive, indirect, like a fog, slow like a sugar soaked by water. We can call it the boiling frog method. You slowly raise the temperature so nobody notice. When it starts to be too hot it's too late, the frog has been weakened for hours and don't have the strength anymore to escape the trap. In a Yang manner, if it has been directly from room temperature to 100°C, it would have jumped out immediately.

In negative a bad Yin can create obsession, brooding over and over the same thing. A sensation of inertia, mental instability, self-destruction. Implosion when the core is falling into itself due to too much external pressure or internal fragility. Narcissism and not being able to see the bigger picture outside of oneself. Also manipulation, lies, victimhood mentality, passivity to act, delusion.

Yin/Yang in the human species?

From a simple observation of anatomy it's quite obvious who's Yin and who's Yang.

Men are generally taller than women, broader shoulders and rib cage which aloud them to have a deeper and louder voice. the muscle mass is also higher with less body fat. The sexual organ is external and I don't need to go in detail on how it erects and projects to accomplish its mission... Also the limbs and the hips are straight. the pelvis is narrow, brow bone more proeminent.

Women in contrary are in general smaller than men. With a tendency to keep more fat in the lower part, than muscle. narrow shoulder, narrow torso, wider hips and generally curvier limbs : hips, breasts, rounded face, brighter skin, bigger eyes. And of course the sexual organ is internal and everything about pregnancy is hidden inside the darkness of the womb.

In term of character There is a saying that : Men kill you, Women drive you crazy.

Take in a positive light, Men can build new worlds with their hands, and women can help to civilise and heal the world. Would you live in a high tech city where people behave like cavemen? and in reverse would you be with kind and compassionate people in the wild with no protection, no home, no technology, in open air?

A lot of psychology studies has shown that from childhood, girls have a tendency for emotional connexion (networking, relationship) while boys are interested by things (how to built, how to work, how to perform)

But does it mean that a man is 100% yang and a woman 100% yin? No it's absurd. I think you kind of notice I tend to have a yang way of expressing myself. I don't really care if my posts hurt someone's feeling. I don't care about trigger warning, I don't care about politically correctness, I don't write to protect harmony among the group but to express what is in my mind, now. but does it nullify my womanhood card? Does that make me a man? Absolutely not, I just have my own and unique temperament and everyone is different. Yet I'm still deeply Yin. And if we observe humanity as a group, it's obvious that the most enchanting embodiment of Yin energy are Women and the most magnificent embodiment of Yang energy are Men.

Yin/Yang in other aspects

I like this term better than female/masculine because it's less restrictive than just humans. It can apply to many aspect of life

A student is yin when he receive knowledge from his teacher in a yang position.

The same teacher is yin when he's under the authority of the university director yang.

In the military field a samurai has a yang culture while shinobis by acting in shadow and using deception way have a yin way of fighting.

The soul is yin, the body is yang

Moon reflect the sunlight (yin), the sun is the source of light (yang)

A mother is yang toward her children (yin)

In a production the famous actress is yang while producers, and staff are yin (they work in the back sometimes no one know their face or their name). but in the same production who has the actual power? The production pouring the money and writing the script? the famous actress that attract people due to her popularity? The success of the whole film is a mix of both energy.

In the end Yin/Yang both are important and both are complementary. Yin can't live independently from Yang and Yang can't survive without Yin. Light produce shadow and shadow is enhanced by light. You can't appreciate shadow without light and you can't see the beauty of light without shadow.

Part 2 : Yin/Yang in Naruto, the case of Madara and Hashirama

#yin #yang #yin yang #meta #madara pre birthday #madara #naruto

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onlymurdersintheafterparty · 4 months ago

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The Residence was way different than I expected it to be and I mean it in the best way possible. I was introduced to Shonda’s work with How to Get Away with Murder and after finally starting Bridgerton I got hooked so it makes sense I would get hooked on this show too. I think I can actually post a series recap without spoilers but just in case, I’ll put it behind the read more tag.

The Plot

Ok so as stated in the synopsis, Cordelia Cupp (played by Uzo Aduba) is called in to investigate after there is a death at The White House during a formal party. The show is advertised as having 132 rooms and 157 suspects but it is actually less than 20 suspects and there weren’t that many locations in the White House that were investigated.

But that doesn’t take away from the fact that it was a solid mystery. The character that was murdered was disliked by everyone making it difficult to immediately pinpoint the killer but if you’re really observant I’m sure you’ll figure it out before the reveal. After starting the show I chose to just sit back and enjoy it and it was indeed entertaining. In an era of tv shows with frustratingly dark lighting I think they did a fairly good job at not plunging the set into darkness when doing flashbacks or dark rooms were being investigated. I also didn’t have to keep adjusting my audio so that’s another bonus. If I had to describe the vibes I would say it’s a mix of A Series of Unfortunate Events, The Afterparty, and other contemporary series that involve a mystery.

The Characters

The side characters were all so interesting and it was cool to see how the stories weaved together. I do wish that we got to see more of Cordelia’s personal life outside of birding rather than it being her whole personality. Her origin story was really sweet but still didn’t give us more about who she is as a person. Marvella the cook and Sheila one of the butlers were hilarious. Those ladies were overworked but still managed to have a time on a night so stressful. A.B. (played by Giancarlo Esposito) did well as a stern chief usher but I wanted more for his character besides handling any crisis that popped up and just ordering people around in general. Edwin (played by Randall Park) was a nice assistant type of character and his kind of friendship with Cordelia was really sweet. Please don’t ruin this platonic ship with one sided romantic nonsense.

The Killer

Like most murder mysteries there’s a million red herrings and plot twists. You may think you’ve got it and then suddenly Cordelia reveals that’s not quite the solution. I did find the reveal and ending satisfying and that comment made by the president’s mother almost took me out. There wasn’t a cliffhanger for a new mystery and there weren’t any loose ends so I don’t know where we go from here but I want more.

Final Thoughts

8/10 please renew because I’m sure the writing and mystery will be even better in season 2. Also shoutout to whoever came up with the names of the episode titles and accompanying artwork.

#the residence netflix #uzo aduba #randall park #giancarlo esposito #mystery shows #Netflix

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mariacallous · 7 months ago

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As expectations mount over the prospect of fresh peace talks in 2025 to end Russia’s war in Ukraine, the idea of Ukraine’s possible Finlandization has once again resurfaced. Finnish officials have been quick to reject such suggestions, warning that forcing neutrality on Ukraine “will not bring about a peaceful solution to the crisis with Russia.”

The mood of skepticism in Helsinki is understandable. While there are some superficial similarities between the position Ukraine currently finds itself in and Finland’s predicament during the Cold War, any attempt to emulate the Finlandization policies of an earlier era would be disastrous for Ukraine.

Despite spending much of the past twenty years since the 2004 Orange Revolution pursuing Euro-Atlantic integration, Ukraine is still often incorrectly portrayed as a country occupying a geopolitical buffer zone between East and West. This is familiar to Finns, whose own country was condemned to similar geopolitical limbo during the Cold War.

Finland successfully defended its sovereignty during World War II and was not forced to become a Soviet republic. However, this was followed by the 1948 Friendship Treaty between Finland and the USSR, which established the framework for what has since come to be known as Finlandization.

For more than four decades, Finlandization served as a survival strategy for Finnish independence. In practice, this meant voluntarily taking the interests of the neighboring Soviet Union into account, both in terms of foreign and domestic policy. This approach enabled the Finns to avoid the experience of Hungary in 1956 and Czechoslovakia in 1968, but the costs were nevertheless considerable. Indeed, Finlandization went far beyond mere neutrality and negatively impacted Finland for almost half a century.

The postwar treaty that served as the basis for Finlandization stipulated that Finnish defense policy should focus exclusively on defending the country against possible attack from the west, despite the fact that a renewed Soviet invasion from the east was clearly far more likely. As a result, Finnish officials had to exercise extreme caution when addressing the security of the country’s eastern border.

Finland was also de facto obliged to seek Moscow’s consent before embarking on any efforts to increase political or economic cooperation with the West. This prevented Helsinki from participating in the initial stages of European integration. Instead, Finland was limited to membership of the European Free Trade Association (EFTA). This was viewed by the Kremlin as being sufficiently apolitical, as long as it did not disrupt the so-called “eastern trade” with the USSR as a result.

Domestically, Finlandization meant a series of restrictions and compromises on core democratic standards. Self-censorship was imposed throughout the Finnish media and information space in order to avoid any open criticism of the USSR. Finns also accepted more than two decades without any changes in the country’s leadership, as Finnish President Urho Kekkonen was regarded as an irreplaceable figure for continued good relations with Moscow. In light of these realities, it is easy to understand why the term “Finlandization” is regarded as derogatory by many Finns, who see it as a reminder of an era remembered with bitterness.

There are also solid geographical reasons why Finlandization is not a good fit for the modern Ukrainian context. Finland’s status during the Cold War was intertwined with the broader security climate across the Nordic region. Neighboring Sweden remained neutral in part due to the “Finnish question,” with Stockholm concerned that joining NATO would leave their Finnish neighbors in jeopardy as the lone buffer state. This could potentially have created the conditions for the Soviet Union to make another attempt at occupying Finland.

Until the end of the Cold War era, Swedish policies of neutrality and Norway’s self-imposed restrictions on the presence of NATO troops or nuclear weapons on their territory were directly linked to the fate of Finland. This Nordic balancing act created an environment where the USSR was incentivized to maintain the status quo rather than risk an escalation in regional tensions if it increased pressure on Finland. This very specific set of circumstances does not apply to Ukraine. Instead, enforced neutrality would leave Ukraine highly vulnerable to further Russian aggression.

The Finlandization of Ukraine would not guarantee Ukraine’s survival as it once safeguarded Finnish independence. Today’s Ukraine cannot be expected to accept any restrictions on its ability to guard its borders, form alliances, or defend itself against Russian aggression. Likewise, any attempt to impose the kind of domestic political compromises that were part of the Finnish model during the Cold War could prove fatal for Ukraine’s democracy and European aspirations.

Anyone who is genuinely interested in finding the right formula for Ukraine should look beyond the Cold War period and focus instead on Finland’s experience since 1991. During the past three decades, Finnish integration into the Western world has demonstrated that geopolitical perceptions can change over time. Finland has proved conclusively that geography alone does not determine a country’s fate.

Finland has now joined both the European Union and NATO, and is firmly anchored within the core institutions of the Euro-Atlantic community. This is the kind of Finnish model that could actually work for postwar Ukraine. As Finnish Prime Minister Petteri Orpo commented in November, “Finland is a member of NATO and the EU. We support Ukraine in its fight against Russia’s aggression. This is the model the Ukrainians are fighting for.”

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weirdestbooks · 8 months ago

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The Weapon and the Spy (Prologue)

Prologue (America) (Wattpad | Ao3)

Table of Contents | Next

Thank you to @jmysty4 for letting me write her wonderful countryhumans x 1984 AU.

America owed Oceania everything for what they had done for him since the Second World War. They had provided him with security, safety, and peace of mind as the world seemed to fall apart further.

Especially with what the USSR had been doing.

The USSR’s invasion of Europe had been anxiety-inducing for America, as more countries struggled to fight him back, and the forces of Oceania’s organization struggled to protect their own.

Every time Oceania came to visit, they came with more bad news, and sometimes it felt as if the USSR’s power was overwhelming, so strong that nothing could stop it. Then Oceania would promise victories and provide them, giving America a sense of relief.

America wished he could do more, but Oceania told him that it was their business, their problem and that America shouldn’t fight when he was so anxious and scared.

A small part of America knew they were right. He…he didn’t feel this way during the Second World War, but he did now. Oceania told him it was because the USSR had nukes. America couldn’t think of anything that could prove the organization wrong.

America hated it.

He had his people to look after, his states to look after, and he seemed paralyzed by terror whenever he thought of fighting.

So he was so grateful to Oceania, who fought for America and prevented him from being such a failure.

America should have remembered that even great people like Oceania could be scared.

“The USSR has attacked your father with nuclear weapons,” Oceania said, worry on their face as they entered America’s home one dreary morning. America felt his heart plummet, fear flooding his body.

The USSR had used nukes against them. All of America’s worst fears had been realized.

Before he even realized what was happening, America was on the floor, gasping for air as panic flooded his body in a way it never had before. He felt light-headed; the only thing keeping him from panicking further was the solid weight of Oceania’s hand on his back.

“You’re okay. Just breathe,” Oceania said, their voice calm. America wanted to believe them; he really did. He had faith in Oceania to find a solution like they always had; he had faith in Oceania to figure out how to fix this because Oceania had never failed him before, and America trusted them with his entire being, but the panic refused to listen to logic.

Eventually, his breathing calmed.

“Are you better now?” Oceania asked. America knew they were trying to be gentle, but some annoyance still crept into their voice.

“I am. I’m…I’m sorry. I just…I had prayed and hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” America said, trying to give Oceania a reassuring smile.

“I had hoped for that too. But since it now has, that means we need to take…measures I didn’t want to take before in order to protect ourselves. Just because the USSR has powerful weapons doesn’t make us powerless,” Oceania said, their voice reassuring America and subsiding the panic.

Oceania was right. They knew what they were doing, and they had never let America down before.

“What is it? I will be happy to help in any way I can,” America said. He knew his fear and cowardice had made him a pretty useless ally recently, but these were nukes, and it was his father.

America had to do something.

“Are you sure? I don’t expect you to fight, knowing…well, knowing…” Oceania cleared their throat, clearly not wanting to make any rude comments towards America. America appreciated the thought, but Oceania didn’t need to pretend.

“If he attacked my father with nukes, then he might attack my siblings and children too. I can’t lose them, Oceania. They’re everything to me,” America explained, voice breaking slightly. Oceania nodded.

“Then, would you be interested in becoming a weapon for me?” Oceania asked, tilting their head to the side.

“Oh, hell no! I’ll be willing to help, but that’s too far!” America said, leaping up with gritted teeth. Had Oceania lost his mind? America wasn’t some thing, some object for Oceania to make into a ‘weapon’! He was a person!

And besides…he was too much a coward to be good at fighting. Oceania had to know that. America…he could do something else. Logistics. Planning. Things that didn’t require him to fight.

If the war with the USSR had proven anything, the longer a war went on, the bigger of a coward he became.

“Of course not. It’s just a suggestion. But…don’t you want to protect your states from the other countries? They want to kill them, destroy them, and I cannot be everywhere at once. But if you let me help you, I can train you into a weapon that no one would dare cross and prevent them from ever attacking your states,” Oceania said. Their words soothed the anxiety and paranoia raging in America’s chest, a temporary balm to his fears.

His mind seemed to cloud over slightly as he thought about Oceania’s offer. Would it not be better for his states to have someone strong to protect them? Would it not be better to stop being fearful and instead take action to prevent it?

“You know this is the best way to help me. I can’t do this without you,” Oceania said, something strange in their voice. America’s mind clouded a bit more, and he opened his mouth and began replying before he could even think.

“Yes, it is. I’ll do it,” he answered. Oceania was right. They were always right. Why had America been so hesitant? All Oceania had ever been was helpful before, so why did America doubt him now? If Oceania said this was the solution, then it was the solution.

“Wonderful! Do you wish to start now?” Oceania asked. America nodded. If the USSR was getting powerful now, then he needed to start now. Otherwise, his cowardice would keep him paralyzed.

His head still felt clouded, but with Oceania’s hand on his back, everything still made perfect sense.

Oceania knew what was best.

America just had to trust him.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America didn’t know what to expect when Oceania took him away for training. The organization had been tight-lipped about where they were going, saying that it was better to keep it secret in case of spies.

The answer made sense, and America couldn’t think of any other reason why Oceania would hide the location from him, so America kept his mouth shut.

There was no need to question them when they were just trying to help.

When they finally arrived, Oceania had patted America on the cheek, introducing him to the soldiers who were going to be helping him. America was being given a private room, as he was a country, and overall, it was a very pleasant introduction.

America was still nervous about the idea of fighting.

Oceania and America had talked about it a little before Oceania had to go, busy dealing with so many other countries and problems. While Oceania had told America that his family would be unable to contact him in order to keep America’s location protected, Oceania had offered to run messages when they were able to.

America was proud to have them as a friend. They thought of everything.

America was quickly kept busy. He knew that the threat of the USSR was close; he had nightmares about it on a daily basis, but the men in charge of training him were determined to work America to death about the issue.

There were no breaks, no free time, just training, sleep, and food.

America felt miserable about it. It was exhausting. The only thing that kept him going was reminding himself of who it was for.

This was for his children, his siblings, his father, for everything currently under threat of nuclear weapons.

He was doing this for them. He hoped they were okay. Sometimes, in the few minutes between going to bed and being embraced by sleep, he would think about them, wondering if they were okay.

Oceania also banned any news from entering the training compound America was in. They were so paranoid about another attack, and as much as America wanted news, he knew this was just Oceania’s way of trying to protect him.

It didn’t stop it from being nerve-wracking.

At least the training kept his mind busy. America wasn’t given a minute of time to worry or speculate, jumping from one thing to the next in an orderly fashion. The schedule never changed; the same thing day after day.

Even though America had become used to the schedule, there were still rules he was struggling to follow.

The worst was how he wasn’t allowed to do anything without permission. He knew that the military needed order and that soldiers needed to learn how to obey their superiors, but in prior wars, America hadn’t been subjected to as heavy a regime as he was now.

If he woke before the day was supposed to begin, he was expected to stay in bed until one of the commanders officially woke him up. He only was allowed to eat when he was told to. It was a hit to his pride, but he needed to do this.

This was for his family. They needed him to be able to protect him.

And he needed to not be such a coward.

If he broke them, the punishments wouldn't be that bad; it would just be a reprimand for all the things America was already worried about.

“War is imminent, and we can’t risk any mistakes in the arm, so we need obedience.”

“Your people are in danger, and this is the quickest way to help them and ensure you are trained as fast as you can be. Your protests and refusal to obey just make things worse.”

America has learned by now to swallow his pride. It wasn’t that bad. The order of the boot camp was…good for his anxiety. It gave him a sense of stability he had lost a long time before.

He was just being paranoid about things. He was letting his fears about the USSR make him afraid of the people who were just looking out for him.

This was in the best interest of his country—the best interest of his people.

This was going to help. Oceania said this was a good idea, so America trusted that it was, no matter how…strange or odd some of the decisions seemed to be.

So, America let go of his paranoia and fears, and the strange feeling in the back of his head seemed to go away. It was less stressful to not think about any (unrealistic) implications of the training regime.

It was order, and it was comfortable to have that order.

America was going to be a good soldier.

Then, his people wouldn’t have to fear the USSR ever again. There would be peace, and life could resume. He trusted that Oceania had a plan, that Oceania knew what they were doing.

So America played his part.

It would all end well in the end.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America hadn’t been informed about Oceania’s visit. He had been walking to the dining hall, silently following his commander (because good soldiers only spoke when spoken to, and America needed to be a good soldier. It’s not like he had anything to talk about) when Oceania had appeared beside him, a worried look on their face.

America opened his mouth to greet them before shutting it, looking back at the commander. He didn’t know if he would get in trouble since Oceania was here, but it was better to check anyway.

“I need to borrow him if you don’t mind,” Oceania said. The commander saluted and nodded before turning to America.

“Go with Oceania,” he ordered. America nearly rolled his eyes at that. He wasn't an idiot. Obviously, if Oceania needed him and the commander respected Oceania’s order, then America was meant to go with him.

Although…maybe he just wanted to reassure America and ensure that America wouldn’t face any punishment for following Oceania.

America appreciated the thought. A break would be nice. His muscles were sore constantly nowadays, although America took it as proof that he was getting better and soon would be someone his states could be proud of, someone who could protect them.

Oceania gestured for America to follow them, and America did, and despite his burning curiosity about any news of his states, of the world outside of his camp, he kept his mouth shut. Good soldiers spoke only when spoken to, after all, and America trusted that Oceania would tell him.

And a small part of him really wanted to impress Oceania, to show them how far he had come from the cowardly little country he had been.

They walked into America’s room and stopped as America resisted the urge to nervously rub at his arm. He didn’t want to appear nervous in front of Oceania. His nervousness was what they were trying to fix.

“I am sure you are eager to hear what I have to say,” Oceania said. America nodded, hesitantly opening his mouth to speak.

“I am. I have tried not to think about my fears, but they still plague me at times,” America answered. Oceania nodded, and America relaxed, not even realizing he had tensed, grateful for the confirmation that he did indeed have permission to speak.

“You are right to feel some fear. It motivates you to do what you can to overcome it,” Oceanis said, “But I come here with news, not to talk about you.”

America nodded, feeling slightly chastised. He didn’t know why he wanted Oceania to be proud of him, but he did. Maybe it was because he was far away from the war, and while the other member states were proving themselves in combat, America was cowering an ocean away.

“I’m sorry,” America said, not knowing what else to say.

“The USSR is now calling himself Eurasia,” Oceania began, causing America to wrinkle his nose in disgust. Of course, he was. That bastard was egotistical to claim to be two entire continents. “There have been a few more nuclear attacks on Ai—on Britain, and…things could be better.”

Against his will, America’s fears began creeping back into his head, visions of his family being brutally murdered one by one in the US—in Eurasia’s bloody conflicts.

“Relax. I have a plan. We have also used nukes against Eurasia, and we are at a standstill right now,” Oceania said, “And your states are okay. I have ensured they all have safehouses to stay in so they are protected. I am using all of my power. But I can’t do this alone. I am stretched too thin. I need your help. You need to train faster and improve as fast as possible so I can use your help to break this standstill.”

America swallowed down bile in his throat.

“I can try. But…are you sure I’ll really make that much of a difference?” America asked. He didn’t want to let his family down, Oceania down, but he…he couldn’t be that important to the war. He was just one man.

“Of course you can. You’re better than any normal soldier due to your abilities, of course,” Oceania said. America felt a pit sink into his stomach.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“Well, I mean, your healing. You can heal so quickly and take hits that no one else can. Do you realize how many lives you can save?” Oceania pointed out. America shook his head.

“I…I…I can only be pushed so far. Everything has a limit—even that. I know…I understand where you are coming from, and to a level, I agree with you, but I can’t rush in blindly and hope that my regeneration will be enough,” America explained. Oceania frowned, an expression that America had rarely seen on their face.

“I didn’t take you for a selfish man, not with who you are doing this for,” Oceania said, something bitter, something angry in his voice. America recoiled, lip curling into a snarl.

“Excuse me?” he asked. Oceania met his eyes again, and when they spoke next, there was a heavy weight to their voice.

“Isn’t it better to fight without hesitation when you can recover as fast as you can? It’s selfish to think that you need to be protected when you can heal faster than any of your states. You should be better than that. I thought you would be. You always seemed more selfless before,” Oceania said, their tone biting. America swayed slightly, blinking through his suddenly clouded mind.

“I…I…” America struggled to find words to defend himself. Was…was that really selfish? He thought that was better, saving it for when it was really needed. “I thought it would be better to preserve it for when it is needed most.”

Oceania shook their head, a disappointed look on their face.

“That’s something you can’t just preserve for later!” Oceania said, voice warping slightly in their anger. Oceania cleared their throat before sighing, “I don’t mean to get upset. I am just very worried about everyone, and I was grateful I could count on you to help me, but learning that you don’t want to for selfish reasons is just…I’m disappointed.”

America looked away, feeling guilt and shame well up within him. His head felt cloudy, and he couldn’t think of anything that would prove Oceania wrong. He wanted to help. He really did.

“I want to help. I do. I just…I never thought of it that way,” America said. Did his states think he was selfish? Or was this more proof he really was a coward, having the power to recover from all types of wounds and still hiding from war?

No wonder Oceania wanted him more involved.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure that now that you have realized how bad that kind of thinking is, you can move past it. I can have them implement that into your training, making you less hesitant and selfish,” Oceania suggested. America nodded before wincing as that action seemed to make the cloudiness in his brain hurt more.

“That sounds like a great idea, Oceania,” America said. Oceania smiled.

“I’m glad. I guess I was too harsh on you. It must be the stress. You’re always willing to improve when you have your flaws pointed out to you,” Oceania said. “I have one more thing I need to ask of you.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know how your training has been done so far, but you need to prioritize being more ruthless than the norm,” Oceanis said, walking over to stand by America. America wanted to protest that idea, but the cloud in his mind made it hard to get out much more than a small “why?”

“They aren’t showing mercy, so why should you show them mercy? Ruthlessness isn’t wrong if it’s what is needed to win,” Oceania said, a gentle hand on America’s back. The cloudiness of his mind was so thick it was hard to think clearly. America nodded.

“You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. My brain is…foggy, I think I must be ill or something to be so irritable and foolish,” America said with a small laugh.

“Well then, I’ll tell them to give you the rest of the day off so you can recover. It’ll give them time to adjust your regime,” Oceania said, gently guiding America to the bed, where he sat down, head spinning from the action.

“That sounds great. Thank you, Oceania. I mean it. Give my states my love.”

“Of course,” Oceania said, and with those final words, they glided out of the room.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America had long since lost track of how long he had been here. Every day felt the same, one blurring into another into another. Oceania had visited a few more times, each time pressing America more to finish his training faster, that they were worried about the states, about his father.

America gave it everything he had.

It was all he had.

Oceania had been dropping off newspapers as well. Some of the papers America didn't recognize, as Oceania explained how some newspapers had shut down due to the war, causing others to spring up in their place. America was still alone, but at least he still got news.

Well, newspapers. He wasn’t exactly given time to read them. He didn’t need to read them, though; the commanders did, and they gave America plenty of reminders as to what was at stake.

War was already in Oceania, and war was coming for his land. He needed to be ready to protect everyone. It was on him; Oceania needed him, and his states needed him.

The pressure on him was immense.

The training seemed to get harsher every day, as America seemed to make more mistakes than he did before. The punishments for doing anything without permission seemed to grow stricter as the commanders began to put a greater emphasis on obedience.

“Armies are more effective when they are not made up of individual people, but rather when they are one mass that is obedient to their commander,” they explained. America was told this often. Although he was training without an army, he needed to learn how to be another face in the crowd.

It was important that he learn to be obedient to his commanders.

Not only that, sometimes they would tell America to do things without telling him why, and he was expected to do them without hesitation or further explanation. If he failed during one of those exercises, he was made to watch some stupid movie about the importance of obedience and overcoming hesitation.

It was all part of the training to help him be less selfish, more decisive, they explained.

America guessed it was working. Each time, it became easier to do what they said without thinking too much about it. America didn’t feel more decisive, though, just…quieter.

But that had to be a good thing, with how the commanders had been commenting on how far America had come and how he was going to be a good soldier. America was happy about that. He was improving. He would be able to protect his states.

All fi…all of them. America shook the fuzziness from his head, refocusing on his task.

If this was what was needed to protect them, then America would throw himself into it wholeheartedly. It didn’t matter what methods they used here. What mattered was that America would be a good soldier that could protect them.

His pride didn’t matter when it came to that. Nothing was more important to America than protecting them.

America would be a good soldier. For his states.

No matter how harsh the training got, this was for the greater good. America understood that, and he trusted Oceania to take care of them until he was ready.

America just hoped he was ready soon. He felt anxious, not fully knowing what was happening to his states, and he would give anything to be ready so he could ensure they were safe.

Although, based on the way the commanders had begun to talk, that moment would be coming soon.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America didn’t find out Oceania had arrived until they walked in on one of his lessons. America had been using a knife to rip apart a dummy with brutal efficiency, something he had long grown used to and did almost subconsciously.

A lot of the things he did here he did without thinking.

But the odd thing was that Oceania didn’t talk to him, didn’t even greet him, instead turning to the commander as America continued running through the brutal motions.

“How soon will it be ready?” Oceania asked. It? What were they talking about? America couldn’t help his curiosity, even though he knew it was probably rude to eavesdrop. Then again, Oceania was talking about it right in front of America, so clearly, it wasn’t that secret.

“Soon,” the commander said, and America watched out of the corner of his eye as the commander nervously looked at him before whispering something to Oceania. Oceania frowned.

“Stop!” They then said, and figuring they were referring to him, America stopped what he was doing and pulled away, fighting down the instinct to salute Oceania as he turned to face them. Oceania then stepped towards America before they grabbed his chin, forcing America to look them in the eyes.

It was a rough movement, one that America was not expecting, but he forced down the urge to pull away or say something. He trusted Oceania. Oceania was doing this for a reason. It didn’t matter that it was humiliating and something America normally would have never allowed. America had to trust Oceania.

He didn’t want to be punished for disobedience.

Oceania moved America’s chin around a few more times before releasing it, stepping back. America could still feel where their fingers had tightly gripped his chin, and he opened his mouth to move his jaw around to shake off the feeling.

“Close it!” Oceania ordered, and America's jaw was shut before he could even think. Oceania then turned back to the commander, and America stood as still as he could.

“So you say it is good at obedience and its purpose but has yet to fully understand what it is?” Oceania asked. The commander nodded, and America had a sinking feeling that he was the one they were referring to.

But he wasn’t an ‘it’. He was a person, a country, the United States of America. America almost opened his mouth to say something but found that he just couldn’t, as if something had sealed his lips shut.

He…he didn’t want to disobey, but…what Oceania was saying concerned him.

But it was Oceania, so there must be a logical reasoning behind it, right?

“Yes. We are hoping that with a stricter training regime, it will accept what it is,” the commander said. America fought to keep his face neutral as he tried to figure out what they were talking about. Surely it couldn’t be him, right? But…they were talking about a training regime. And the only person here who had that was America.

America was still frozen in position.

“I want it done now. Do whatever it takes to finish it, so long as you don’t break it,” Oceania ordered. “More than a stricter training regime. I can see how well that is working, but you have reached the end of its effectiveness.”

Oceania then leaned down and whispered something into the commander’s ear. The commander nodded as Oceania turned back to America.

“These next few weeks are going to be the most important in your life,” Oceania said, their voice full of the same heavy weight to it that America had heard in it so often before. “And it is imperative that you obey them and that you listen to them. Even if it makes you uncomfortable at first, just know this is for the greater good, and the sooner you help them by going along with what they tell you, the sooner your training will be over, and you can protect your states. Understood?”

America nodded, not sure if he had permission to speak, his mind feeling fuzzy. Oceania smiled.

“Good. I expect your training to be done when I return. If not…” Oceania trailed off, letting their words linger in the air as they turned to leave the room, giving one last order to the commander. “Start now.”

The commander nodded before turning to America.

“Come on. Follow me,” he said, and America followed him out of the room like the good little soldier he was. There was still an odd feeling in the back of his mind, but he was long past the point of no return.

America trusted Oceania. They promised this would be for the best.

So America trusted it would be.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America was meant to become Oceania’s weapon.

It was a mantra that had been repeated to him again and again and again. The cameras around the facility were always blaring the message whenever America was training, serving as a permanent reminder of what he was meant to become.

He hated it at first. He didn’t say anything because he still wanted to be a good soldier, but he hated the message at first. It felt wrong.

But America has been the one in the wrong. The nightly videos he watched explained everything, talking America through all his doubts and fears and how silly it was to not want to be Oceania’s weapon.

America understood that it was silly to want to be just another soldier. The army had plenty of soldiers. His states had been protected by soldiers for the entire war. What Oceania and his states needed was a new weapon crafted to protect them and hunt down their enemies with brutal efficiency.

America was to be that weapon. He understood now. That was why it was okay for people to call him an ‘it’ or not call him by his name. He was still just a weapon at the end of the day. A weapon that didn’t need to feel emotion or think when it was being a weapon.

After all, what weapon thought?

Ever since he realized that, he had done better in his training.

Oceania’s weapon was efficient and it was brutal, and it would ensure that the states were protected.

It was still in training, though, because why have a good weapon when you can have a perfect one?

“Attack,” the commander said. Oceania’s weapon turned around, lashing out with the knife as it mutilated the dummy in front of it. It didn’t hesitate, ripping into the dummy again and again until the commander ordered it to stop.

Stepping back, the weapon realized that a picture had been attached to the dummy, a picture of Britain—the wea—America’s father.

“Very good, weapon. You weren’t even hesitant, even though the dummy had a picture of an ally on it. You just obeyed your orders,” the commander said. America nodded, feeling vaguely dazed. He didn’t hesitate. If that had been his real father, would America have ripped him apart, too?

He was…he didn’t want to hurt his family.

“Wipe that expression off your face. Weapons don’t show emotion, and weapons shouldn’t be thinking while fighting,” the commander said. America was quick to slide his face back into the empty expression that had become so comforting, “We wouldn’t actually make you attack him. We just needed to test how much faith you have in the people giving you orders.”

America relaxed. Of course, that was what it was. Oceania wanted America to protect his family. They wouldn’t really have him attack his family. They just needed a good weapon.

America was going to be that weapon.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

Oceania was very proud of how far their weapon had come when they came to retrieve it.

“You did a good job crafting it,” they said, as their weapon held out it’s arms for Oceania to inspect, “One could be forgiven for thinking that it had always been a weapon.”

“We’re glad it’s to your liking, sir,” one of the men said. Oceania dismissed him with a wave of their hand.

“There are still a few things that I need to fix up, but then, yes, I believe we have the perfect weapon here,” Oceania said, “Follow me, weapon. We’ll need privacy for this next bit.”

America let his hands fall to his side and followed Oceania out the door.

“What is my name?” they asked.

“Oceania,” America answered, his tone empty. He found it hard to express any emotion in his voice, something that was for the best anyway. Oceania clicked their tongue.

“Wrong. My name is Big Brother, and you will address me as such,” Oce—Big Brother said. America nodded.

“Now, what is your name?” Big Brother asked. America hesitated, unsure of how to answer that question. His name was America, of course, but he wasn’t sure if he should say that, considering he was training to be a weapon.

But it was the only name he had…

“Ame—”

“Wrong. You are a weapon. Weapons do not have names because they are not people. They do not have identities or anything like that. They are objects to be used and owned. You may have once been America, but you cannot be America if you want to be the weapon that ends the war. Only when war ends can you stop being a weapon and be a person. Now, what is your name?” Big Brother asked, their voice somehow squeezing its way into Ameri—into the weapon’s very being.

“I—I do not have a name because weapons do not have one,” the weapon said. Big Brother nodded.

“Better. Don’t worry. Soon, this will be second nature to you,” they said. “Now, to continue. Do you feel emotion?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because weapons cannot feel emotion.” the weapon answered. Big Brother smiled.

“Good. So if I see you expressing emotion?”

“That means I—”

“I?” Big Brother asked. Their weapon quickly corrected itself.

“That means the weapon is broken and needs to be repaired.”

“Good,” Big Brother purred, their voice blocking out everything in the weapon’s mind as it seemed to consume everything, “One last question before we finalize the other faults and enter you into service. Do weapons think?”

“No.” the weapon stated.

Big Brother’s smile widened.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

Big Brother’s weapon still had a few flaws that needed to be worked out before it could be put into service. Big Brother wanted a quality weapon, meaning that they all needed to be worked out before it could begin it’s primary objective of protecting the states.

“The states are all in hiding due to the war and the fact that the weapon is not yet in service, so we must get it working as soon as possible,” Big Brother said, addressing the man who was meant to fix their weapon’s flaws.

“Of course. What do I need to do?” Big Brother then grabbed their weapon’s face, lifted it, and pointed to the mouth on it.

“I need the mouth sewed up. Weapons do not need to speak, so it is a useless feature that needs to be repaired, as it is impossible to remove it without damaging the rest of my weapon,” Big Brother said. The man nodded.

“Of course,” he said before preparing the supplies as Big Brother ordered their weapon onto a chair.

The man then approached the weapon, a needle in his hands, and Big Brother’s weapon froze to ensure that the repair went as smoothly as possible.

Big Brother’s weapon held still as the needle punctured it’s lip. The doctor’s assistant held his mouth shut as the sewing continued, practiced movements that made it’s mouth sting.

Big Brother’s weapon ignored it. Weapons don’t feel pain. This was being done to increase the efficiency of the weapon.

It stared ahead until the procedure was done, the last stitch tied off.

Big Brother dismissed the doctor before grabbing their weapon’s face, tilting it back and forth as they inspected the stitches.

“Yes, you’ll be a much better weapon now that we’ve gotten rid of that little flaw,” Big Brother said before releasing their weapon’s face, turning to leave the room. “Follow.”

Their weapon stood up, and obediently followed Big Brother.

#countryhumans #the weapon and the spy by weird #countryhumans america #countryhumans oceania #orwell 1984 #cage of eyes au

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