ParadoxSeahorse
@ParadoxSeahorse@lemmy.world
- Comment on The old icons were better 4 days ago:
- Comment on Tender chicken 4 days ago:
- Comment on Leaked Windows 11 Feature Shows Copilot Moving Into File Explorer 4 days ago:
I’m sorry, is this an AI Generated keyboard…?
- Comment on Zootopia 1 week ago:
I think those were deliberately “bedroom eyes” actually
- Comment on Hard choices. Who would you choose? 1 week ago:
Scoobs, snoops or supes
- Comment on AI-generated isekai novel that won a literary contest Grand Prize and Reader’s Choice award has its book publication and manga adaptation cancelled 1 week ago:
It’s so easy, and it’s like passable, but step back and it’s just shit. Reminds me of Twilight tbf
Tap for spoiler
Final Chapter — The Last Thing That Belonged Somewhere The last demon waited where the sky was closest to breaking. Not in a throne of bone, nor in a sea of fire—but in the ruins of the old seal, sitting calmly atop a fallen monolith as if it had always been there. Its shape was almost human now, refined by centuries of war and adaptation. “You look tired,” it said kindly. Saitou Kiyomi felt tired. Her hands shook as she leaned on what remained of her broom—more handle than tool now, bound with wire and memory. The mountain wind cut through her coat. Her reflection in the demon’s eyes startled her: gray at the temples, lines around her mouth she had not seen in decades. Her power was nearly gone. Clean no longer answered unless she bled for it.
Tidy flickered like a dying lamp. Behind her stood the children. No—her family. They had grown. The quiet girl held a blade inscribed with prayer-script, her stance perfect. The twins stood back to back, one wielding holy flame, the other binding seals with threads of light. The boy—the first—wore armor etched with vows instead of sigils. They lived because Kiyomi had hated dirt. Because she had believed that filth should not cling to children. Their resurrection had cost her everything. When the spirit had told her it was possible—only because their souls had risen clean to Heaven—she had not hesitated. Years vanished. Skills unraveled. Concepts she had rewritten returned to their original state. She paid willingly. Because a world without them was not a proper place. “Do you regret it?” the demon asked. “You could have been eternal.” Kiyomi stepped forward, pain flaring through joints that remembered being young. “I cleaned offices for thirty years,” she said. “Eternity sounds exhausting.” The demon smiled. “So be it.” It rose, and the sky screamed. The battle did not feel grand. It felt like work. The children moved as one—not perfect, but practiced. They fought with power earned through faith, discipline, and grief. Kiyomi supported where she could, sealing wounds manually, redirecting strikes, placing fallen weapons back into trembling hands. She did not command. She trusted. When the demon finally struck her down, she felt ribs crack and breath leave her body. The broom slipped from her fingers. Her family screamed. Kiyomi looked up at the sky—at the last tear still bleeding fire. “One more,” she whispered. Tidy answered. Not as a miracle. As a favor. She placed the demon. Not destroyed. Not erased. Returned. Back to the hell it had clawed its way from, sealed by the combined will of mortals who refused to be disposable. The sky closed. Silence fell. Kiyomi did not stand again. Her age returned all at once, like dust settling after a long day. Her hair went white. Her hands grew thin. The last warmth of magic drained from her chest. The children knelt beside her. “Is this… okay?” one asked, voice breaking. Kiyomi smiled. “It’s perfect,” she said. “Everything’s where it belongs.” She closed her eyes, not as a goddess, not as a hero— But as a woman who had finally finished her shift. Epilogue — A Place That Stays Clean Years later, the monastery stood again. Not as it was—but better. Stone laid by monks and masons. Beams raised by priests, shrine maidens, and travelers who believed differently but worked the same. Bells rang for no single god. The cottage halfway down the mountain was rebuilt too. Children’s laughter echoed there—new ones this time. The orphans—now adults—taught them how to sweep. Not magically. Properly. Slowly. On a wooden plaque near the entrance were carved simple words: This place is kept clean
not because it must be
but because someone cared. No one prayed to Saitou Kiyomi. But every morning, someone picked up a broom. And the world, for once, stayed just clean enough to live in. - Comment on AI-generated isekai novel that won a literary contest Grand Prize and Reader’s Choice award has its book publication and manga adaptation cancelled 1 week ago:
Sorry couldn’t resist
Tap for spoiler
The bells of Asteria rang at dawn, bright and wrong. Saitou Kiyomi stopped sweeping the plaza halfway through a stroke. The sound scraped against her nerves like chalk on a board. Bells were for festivals, weddings, victories. This wasn’t any of those. People didn’t cheer. They whispered. “An Edict?” someone muttered. “From the Cathedral,” said another. “No—from the Palace.” Kiyomi sighed, resting both hands on the broom handle. Of course. When you tidy a world too well, eventually the people who enjoyed the mess come knocking. She had known this day would come. She’d just hoped it would be later. Preferably never. Since arriving in Gahaski, things had fallen into place—literally. Bandit gangs vanished overnight, their knives and clubs snapping neatly into evidence lockers they’d never seen before. Slums became livable when refuse simply… stopped existing. Corrupt officials found themselves waking up in cells, their ill-gotten gold “returned to its proper owner,” whatever that meant according to the magic. They called her many things now.
Saint of Cleanliness.
The Living Broom.
The Witch Who Erases. Kiyomi hated all of them. She resumed sweeping. Habit was stronger than unease. The plaza stones gleamed, polished to a soft morning shine. She remembered another plaza—no, a station platform—back in Tokyo, where she’d scrubbed gum off tiles while pretending not to hear a manager shout her name like it was an insult. I just wanted things to be a little less dirty, she thought. Is that so wrong? The bells stopped. A ripple of silence spread, followed by the arrival of white-robed clerics and steel-armored knights. At their center walked a man whose clothes were immaculate in a way that made Kiyomi’s skin crawl. Not a speck of dust dared touch him. Not because of magic—because dozens of others were paid to ensure it. High Chancellor Verdan bowed, just enough to be polite, not enough to be humble. “Saitou Kiyomi,” he said, pronouncing her name carefully, like a document he’d read twice. “By decree of His Radiance the King, you are summoned.” Kiyomi leaned on her broom. “I’m on shift.” A murmur rippled through the knights. The Chancellor’s smile tightened. “The kingdom is in crisis,” he continued. “Order is collapsing. Institutions are… relocating themselves without authorization. Prisons are full beyond capacity. Treasuries are emptying into private homes. This ‘Tidy’ of yours—” “It puts things where they belong,” Kiyomi said simply. “And who,” Verdan asked, eyes sharpening, “decides where that is?” Kiyomi opened her mouth—and stopped. For the first time since coming to Gahaski, the answer didn’t come easily. She thought of the noble she’d sent to jail without a trial because everyone knew he was rotten. Of the temple vault whose gold had marched itself into the hands of starving villages. Of the mirror, weeks ago, when she’d casually wiped away twenty-six years like dust on glass. Where is the proper place… for power? “I do,” she said at last. The words felt heavier than they should have. Verdan nodded, as if that were the only answer he’d expected. “Then you must also accept responsibility for the consequences.” At his signal, a knight stepped forward and unrolled a parchment. Names spilled down it like a stain that wouldn’t wash out. Cities destabilized. Borders violated. Alliances broken overnight because a crown had decided it belonged “somewhere else.” “You are cleaning the world,” Verdan said softly. “But a world without dirt has no friction. Nothing to hold it together.” Kiyomi laughed, short and tired. “Funny. Back home, they told me the opposite. That if I worked harder, stayed later, cleaned more… things would hold together just fine.” She straightened, feeling the familiar hum beneath her skin—the magic responding to her mood. The plaza’s dust quivered, eager. Verdan took a cautious step back. “I won’t stop,” Kiyomi said. “But I will listen.” That surprised him. It surprised her too. Above them, unseen by all but her, a small cat-shaped spirit sat atop a roof beam, tail flicking. So, it thought, eyes gleaming. She’s reached the messy part. And for the first time since her reincarnation, Saitou Kiyomi wondered whether some things, once cleaned, could ever be put back where they belonged. - Comment on PFP Evolution 1 week ago:
Anyone old enough to call it an avatar?
- Comment on Unquestionably high class 1 week ago:
Precook? The bacon and sausages just need to be thin enough, ie. pancetta sliced and chipolata, respectively. Possibly better roasted so they don’t need to be turned (they may unravel).
Traditionally, short chipolatas are used, sometimes referred to as cocktail sausages, although this can also refer to cold, precooked sausages of the same size.
- Comment on The whole "toilet seat up, toilet seat down" gender debate could be solved by everybody putting the seat and lid down. 2 weeks ago:
Is this a bit
- Comment on The whole "toilet seat up, toilet seat down" gender debate could be solved by everybody putting the seat and lid down. 2 weeks ago:
I love it, you’re awesome, good luck… but I read the “you” as referring to men in general ie. “they won’t miss” so I had to re-read your comment a few times before I understood what you were replying to! You’re both right, just sit down men smh
- Comment on LG Electronics unveils 2026 Gram Laptop line with aerospace composite - up to 50% lighter than macbooks 2 weeks ago:
What a misleading title! It says 2026 gram laptop but that’s so heavy it’s 1199 grams wtfff
- Comment on Check mate, atheists. 2 weeks ago:
Thank you
- Comment on Check mate, atheists. 2 weeks ago:
That’s nuns
- Comment on Humans May Be Able to Grow New Teeth Within Just 4 Years 2 weeks ago:
The reason toddlers have such cute chubby cheeks… because they’re chock full of teeth :D
- Comment on Welcome to the thunderdome? 3 weeks ago:
Purity bad, bastard best
- Comment on Boxing day nightmare 3 weeks ago:
And here’s the translated blurb for “Leka Doktor”, for fun:
A short novel about love and eroticism.
Anya has been terrified of doctors, illnesses and hospitals her whole life. Then she meets the great love, Martin is the man of her dreams and he feels the same way. The only problem is that he is a doctor, and Anya has big problems with her love life. She finds it hard to relax and enjoy their relationship when she constantly imagines that she is sick and that he finds various faults with her.
One day she has an accident and becomes really sick, she needs support from Martin and her best friend Katja. But Martin has to do something else, he has commitments he promised himself before they met.
Can Anya overcome her fear of doctors and hypochondria? Will they find a life together? Can their new relationship withstand being apart for three months?
- Comment on Boxing day nightmare 3 weeks ago:
The woman who “found” them said she planned to write a book about it, and then later did.
From the summary:
This is the true story, according to me Kicki Karlén about when I’ve first came across all the skeletons in the Church. In just a week I went from being a normal silent person to became known all over the world.
This is just a short story where I tell you about it. You get to see my point of the view, what I’m thinking of all the journalists questions, the Swedish authorities and about what they are digging up as side-stories.
Yes, I took photos off the skeletons in Ikeabags, but I did not do it to get famous. Yes, I emailed some local politician, and plenty of other people about it.
I did not in my wildest dream imagine that this thing came out this way. I also did not imagine that my life is no longer private, and I did not for a second consider that words was put in my mouth, and that the whole focus went far beyond the focus of all these dead people and on to me, writing erotic short stories and other stories, focus on what I think of the local politicians and the township. But the fact is, that I started it. If you buy the story you can learn why, and there’s also pictures of it all in the end.
This is not the easy entertainment I use to write, but it is the truth about me and the roll I had to play in this story. I hope I’ll give you all relevant answers in this explanation, about the skeletons in Ikeabags, the Church in Kläckeberga Sweden and about what started it.
Bur please remember while reading; these skeletons were once human beings just like you and me, and they deserve our respect for their lives and their death, and give just a thought of compassion with the parish who uninvited had to deal with this whole mess.
And what about me? I just love to tell a good story, and this one is the simple truth, not a fiction story I made up to amuse you. I will also warn sensitive persons for the pictures at the end of the story. I or my publisher Balder Books will take no responsibility what so ever for any damage you can fell by reading the story or watching the pictures. By buying this story you agree to hold me as a private person, an author and a publisher free from any blame that can came out of this. It’s the true story with pictures, that’s all it is.
- Comment on Explained: Why you can't move Windows 11 taskbar like Windows 10, according to Microsoft 4 weeks ago:
Good explanation. They couldn’t checks notes be fucked
- Comment on The difference between a Collection and a Hoard, is "Standards" 4 weeks ago:
God fucking dammit, it’s a hoard
- Comment on Relevant username 5 weeks ago:
I will not accept a rotting avo
- Comment on How do you sleep at night? Please respond with a number 5 weeks ago:
Yes! But the good thing about these stitched together cloths is they follow me to the bathroom
- Comment on How do you sleep at night? Please respond with a number 5 weeks ago:
3 9 19 depending on the weather? Does everybody else stay consistent due to climate control?
- Comment on How do you sleep at night? Please respond with a number 5 weeks ago:
This has been changed since the original (someone else linked). 8 should be 7 and 7 should have 17. Eight looks like an adult diaper.
- Comment on Choose wisely: Chocolate that taste like shit or Shit that taste like chocolate 1 month ago:
So if you made this out of Hershey’s, it’d be both?
A shit that tastes like chocolate that tastes like shit?
- Comment on idk 1 month ago:
Hyperbolic speed increases
- Comment on idk 1 month ago:
Innit 240?
- Comment on idk 1 month ago:
Darjeeling darling
- Comment on Lying can be so complicated 1 month ago:
I thought this was hilarious
- Comment on Why do some people have so many tabs open on their browser? 1 month ago:
Some browsers will not keep your history indefinitely (or even more than a month) any more
