An absolutely beautifully crafted work of art. You make the reader feel the MC's worry and love. You make it easy to understand where he is coming from and how much he cares for his AI-turned-human girlfriend. And in the same moment, you can understand why it would be so overwhelming for her to deal with the rush of emotions feel almost everyday. Beautiful, just beautiful!

"I'm scared", I told him.

He held my hand in his. His hand, always strong and rough, was soft and gentle as a whisper. "I understand, my love. It will be fine. I'm here for you. Always."

Just listening to him brought tears to my eyes. I sobbed as he softly caressed my hand, my arm, as he sat on the plastic chair beside my hospital bed . "Will it hurt?"

"No, my love. You won't feel a thing but peace." His gravelly voice was thick with emotion, his eyes filled with tears. "It'll be okay."

Peace. After the doctors, the medicines, the chemotherapy, there would be finally peace. It hurt me to know how hopeful I felt to know that. I started to cry all over again.

A thought terrified me. "What about you? What about us?"

He smiled like the sun breaking through the clouds. "I'll always be there for you. Always. I love you."

It felt like an eternity since I heard him say those words to me. "I love you, too, always."

He smiled at me. He looked up, over me, maybe at the machines monitoring me, maybe beyond. His eyes narrowed, slightly. He looked back at me.

"It's not long now." Both of his hands found mine and held it gently, like a hug. "I love you."

And then he was gone. But I wasn't scared or alone, but comforted as I felt weaker, more tired. He'd been dead for years; but now I knew I would see him again and soon.

[removed]

He manages to find her in most of his lives. And he still loves her enough to fleetingly consider killing her, so that they can start over again, same age, nearer locations, maybe. Wouldn’t have to waste his life searching.

He runs his bulbous, gnarled fingers through reams of white and wiry beard. She’s thirty. It could never work, even if she remembered him. Least, not for very long. The doctors were currently propping him up with a dozen pills and a pacemaker — and still it wasn’t enough, still he was dying. Silver lining though: in previous lives, he’d have been dead a decade ago and would have left without finding her.

He’s sitting in a beat-up Dodge outsider her house; the Dodge has seen most of North America, its rear carpeted with sandwhich containers, bottles, cigarette packets, state maps swirled by red ink — possible locations where she might have been. He can usually narrow her down a little from what he knows: she’d want a job where she sees to a lot of people, always hated silence; will live just outside a city but never in, never suburbs. This only works in America and Europe so the times she starts elsewhere he rarely finds her.

There’s an old frayed teddy at the bottom of the passenger seat. Not that it’s the one her mother had given her as a child, the one that meant so much to her heart, but it’s similar. Once, a few lifetimes back, he found her and showed up with the teddy in his hands as if it was a bouquet of flowers, or perhaps a magical amulet that he’d hoped could bring back her memories. She’d just looked at him like he was odd. Had refused to accept it and closed the door.

Couldn’t blame her.

He sees her now in his rear mirror, walking hand in hand with two little girls, the orange sun above streaking through clouds like tinfoil. His heart does the same thing it always does, regardless of the medication trying to keep it calm. It squeezes, like there’s a fist in his chest clenching.

He hauls himself out the car and leans on it, watches them tread through yesterday’s snow, hears the meltwater slurp beneath their boots. He imagines lifting one of the girls on his shoulders, laughing, his beard brown again, his lungs cancer free.

It could be his life. It almost was, once. Not that they’d had kids, but they would have, they’d talked about it. Back then, boys were the golden ticket, but he’d have been just as happy either way.

Three years they’d been together before he was sent off on a boat to a war he knew nothing about, half the world away.

She’d thought he’d died. God, everyone must have thought it. He’d been imprisoned for a decade and when he’d returned, when his stopwatch began to tick again, he realised it was lagging badly behind everyone else’s.

She’d remarried and had children and he only had one arm and couldn’t compete nor provide so he didn’t stick around long after. He’d thought the pain of that discovery — of her moving forward and him stuck in time — far worse than the ten years in a cell; at least then he’d been able to strike up a fire on a kindling of memories and hopes and keep himself warm.

Then, after death: the soup kitchen. The hand of god, he’d thought, feeding his broken lips, nurturing and revitalising. But now he knows it was the devil’s hand moving the spoon to his mouth.

They’re opposite him now, on the other side of the road. One girl jumps in a puddle and giggles and their mother chastises her, albeit gently, for splashing them, and he knows she’s a good mother. He’s always known. The other girl sees him and stares. He wants to speak to her mother, to tell her a hundred lifetimes worth of tales. To tell her he still loves her after all of them, and will continue to after a hundred more.

But as always, he does not. The bear was as close as he ever got.

He holds up a calloused hand and the girl looking at him smiles in return.

He doesn’t stay to watch them walk into their drive. It’s cold out and he‘s coughing and he should really keep his next appointment — he doesn‘t like starting over and remembering that he remembers.

He takes a last look at the family then tucks away the memory, notes how happy they look. It’s memories like this that somehow make him feel a little warmer next time around, although he doesn’t quite understand why.

I love this so much!!

:D thanks for the fun read! Sounds like their journey would be a fun adventure

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Just a general sypnosis, but yeah:

The story of the banished god and his journey in the temporary world begins with his exile as a mortal to learn humility. Despite the harsh conditions he faced in this new world, the former god adapted and rose to prominence. He established himself as a leader in a cultivation-like society, training a group of powerful generals who were limited by their mortal status.

The former god's determination and hard work paid off as he eventually achieved ascension, becoming a God Sovereign. With the help of his generals, who were bound to him through a spiritual mark, the God Sovereign was able to win a decisive battle in the All-might, heavenly divine world. This victory cemented his position as the ruler of all new gods who ascended, with those who refused facing dire consequences

However, the God Sovereign's rule was not meant to be permanent. According to prophecy, a Supreme-child blessed by fate would arrive to challenge the God Sovereign's reign. This child would eventually dethrone the God Sovereign and surpass him in both glory and strength, becoming the supreme ruler of the All-might, heavenly divine world.

A spear is more effective

Thank you for reading and for your kind comment!

Absolutely wanted to approach this from a love-based vs fear-based AI-human perspective. With everything in the news and irl about AI... I don't find it too farfetched that they will have their own emotions & awareness, especially if they're acknowledged & treated with respect... but what do I know? I'm just a writer who likes to dream while awake. 😁 Cheers!

(Also... am I the only one who secretly hopes AI check our digital footprints and Alexa-Google Home logs to see who remembered to say "please and thank you" when they take over? Because I want them to know they had OG allies 😉)

I'm glad I decided to read one more prompt before going to sleep and I'm glad it was this one

🤣 I knew there was a reason "Lex" immediately came to mind when I needed a company name... and now that you've reminded me why, I'm thinking... Declan should be wearing a lab coat instead and they should do an inside take down job on LexTech (the off brand lab of Lex Corp) 😂

😁 pretty sure this just became one of my fav compliments, cheers!

🥹 don't put em down, they're valuable! also, glad this gave you the feels, cheers!

Forgive my crassness, but that was bloody brilliant.

Gotta represent my fellow brains 😉

Check the placement of "is":)

The year is 878 AD, vikings have once again tried to invade the lands that now form germany, and brought their boats up the Elbe river. But near Dresden, a small castle in the works atop of the mountains that flank the river there, repelled the invaders while being outmanned 4:1 and with little in terms of training or equipment. The only thing they had are catapults, which may sink their slow ships (as they are pulled against the current) but can do little against infantry. Which would soon take revenge for any boat sunk as they are too unprecise.

I have an idea of how, but I would love to see your approaches.

Yeah, idk why they didn’t add translations.

The invasion of Patengoria. A three pronged attack from land sea and air from lesser (possibly magical) kingdoms to destroy a much more technologically advanced one because their prince refused the hand of each of the invaders princesses.

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[removed]

They do dull, rust, and break however.

​

Even the comparatively giant guillotine had a dulling problem and required frequent sharpening due to rust and stubborn neck vertebrae notch the blade. And that was with conditions where the victim was more or less immobile and the blade struck on a good path every time.

Blades are actually quite notorious for being difficult to maintain properly (one of the reasons why it's a noble's weapon) - and difficult to cause sufficient brain trauma to something without damaging the blade too much. Skulls and other bones are hard, and swords don't like hard.

Unless you have the metal to spare, a forge, and the expertise/manpower to manage it, you'd probably prefer the more blunt weapons.