#Density and Disconnection

[wickedzeevyln]

✮ Grievance for Sonnets ✮

Plunged into a mundane-bleached afternoon,boxed inside a limiting pre-destined circumstance,stuck in Quiapo traffic under a corrugated tin skythat Rizal might have draftedNoli Me Tángerewith astute insight, had he squirmedonto the cleft vinyl bench beside meinstead of this man hawking peeled green mangoes.Though, after splitting a bag of fish crackersand showing him the news feed on my cracked…

[liminal-zeitgeist]

Dream Logic Fail

"The movements of our suspect have been logged thanks to Nicole." I dipped my head in her direction.

We had been chased into this room and were taking the time to give an overview of the case as we knew it thus far. Our sponsor stood by my side, nodding in approval. "And we have this from Mr. Hendrick's desk." I continued in the same considering tone. I held up a packet of papers in a manilla envelope.

Mr. Hendrick froze next to me. I could feel the whine of his panicked thoughts although I was ignoring him to calmly take input from the rest of the group. "Buuut!" he exclaimed, pointing around at everyone excitedly. "But! You can't read it." He settled back into place proudly, crossing his arms.

I didn't spare a glance in his direction. "We can read it." Mr. Hendrick deflated.

And I woke up with a smile.

-

Usually, his ploy would work and we wouldn't be able to read the papers. Dream logic loves to make everything more difficult for me. But a combination of a character trying to actively use it and me being close enough to waking let me exert more control.

Characters do use dream logic to make my life more difficult with relative frequency. However, Mr. Hendrick was way too invested. The correct way to manipulate dream logic is to make a statement of fact calmly, to trick my mind into acknowledging that yes, I am in fact right in front of you not escaping into the woods.

[bluebeads-art]

2025 April 25th

Never draw in the same art style twice in a row. Keep 'em guessing, baby!!!

Rambling and close-up under the cut

I got a TourBox NEO recently and wanted something quick(ish) and straightforward to draw while I got the hang of it. For lack of any better ideas I just hit Siffrin with the semi-realism beam. It ended up being a good call because soft shading forces me to use a bunch of different brushes and brush settings, and that was good to train me to actually use their shortcuts. My drawing setup banishes my keyboard to the ether, and my old and current tablet have 5 and 10 (inconvenient) shortcut buttons respectively, so I had more important things to map there. But now I have hotkey allowance with ✨button combos✨ and it's very cool and good. I haven't used it for long but I recommend it if you can justify the price tag.

There wasn't a cohesive plan for how I wanted Siffrin to look realism'ed, btw. I just looked at the official art element-by-element, went "how would I interpret that in physical space?", and then committed vibes to page with no extra thought beyond the bonus knowledge from the dev's nose reveal post, lmao. I'm a little meh on their hair because of that, the front and back feels disconnected. I'm happy with their face and cloak though. Thick & chunky fabric folds, my beloved. Also droopy eyes my beloved because I can just reference myself and boom, EZ PZ.

The main brushes I used from the Clip Studio Asset browser are SU-Cream Pencil (content ID: 1761353) for line art and crisp shadows, and uuuhhh Japanese name I'm too monolingual to read brush (content ID: 1692270) for general shading. (Drop the brush density & opacity a bit and draw lightly with it. Any pencil can be a paint brush if you try hard enough.)

Time taken was 9 hours and 17 minutes.

[eatmangoesnekkid]

I’m so tired of feminist women over 40 saying how they continue to be invisible to men the older they get.

I have never felt invisible to men and I’m close to 50. I do not try to be visible to men. I simply take care of myself and that naturally increases my visibility.

Today in my rebounding class, a young attractive Italian guy in his 20s asked for my number after class. Another lady in class commented on how attractive he was. After letting him know that I wasn’t interested and having a chat, I said to him that I was going towards 50 years old.

Santos was stunned. He, like everyone else, could not believe it. He said “I thought you were 25.” He was completely shocked and said “you are very beautiful” which made me blush because I could feel his sincerity. And I was sweaty in leggings and had my hair in two messy afro puffs in a gray winter climate. But it is really my aura, the fact that I don’t carry a lot of density in me, along with my love of being a woman, that attracted him at the level of the *unconscious.*

As we get older in these beautiful female bodies, our physical merely becomes a hologram of what lives in our subconscious in ways that we can no longer mask, hide, or lean on through youth or genetics. I was never the “pretty” or “beautiful” girl growing up; I was the smart girl. The “good” girl. The “nice” girl. But what I have learned is that every year we truly take care of ourselves will add up overtime and radiate out into the world in a higher frequency eventually.

Moral of the story —do not believe these women who say they are invisible to men because many of these women have spent years, their whole lives, living in their heads or complaining about their monthly cycles, not fully embracing being a woman. Now they want men to find them attractive after all those years of being disconnected from their own bodies. Over the years that constant dissonance and disconnection with self will add up and show through one's aura.

You must enjoy being a woman. This real genuine enjoyment is your magnetism.

Take care of your body. Be aware of what you are feeding your mind and your skin. Love your bleed time. Find ways to enjoy your breasts. Smile at yourself in the mirror. Nurture your softness. Laugh often- don’t take everything so seriously. Destress and nourish yourself in ways that stop you from having monthly cramps. Believe in something much more than what you have been taught about female physiology. Be lighthearted and connected to earth. Grounded. Let go, get rid of some things, sometimes people included. There are some deeper female mysteries that I will keep more veiled and private on this blog but will teach openly in my online school. I am a feminine wisdomkeeper which means that much of my work happens behind closed doors and in the underworld of the body and psyche.

All in all, when you *consciously* spend time being good to your body and saying good things about every facet of your womanhood and femaleness, then you won’t have any problem with people of all walks of life being attracted to you. Every year your aura will get bigger and bigger, more radiant and alive. Adore yourself and the world can’t help but to love and adore you back….at any age.

Living on earth is a game of frequency and consciousness. Nothing more or less.

—India Ame’ye

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Like a Person

[This story is softcore smut.]

The witch's gaze catches it like a rat in a trap. She tilts her head as she saunters over, the otherwise frozen audience of dolls docilely clearing a path. The witch kneels, cupping its head in her hands.

"Could you repeat yourself, dear?"

It takes a second to gather its bearings, trying and failing not to sound mortified. "This one, said that it does-"

The witch interrupts it. "Good dolls obey."

Its mouth speaks on its own, in a more monotone voice than before. "This one said 'I still feel like a person.' Miss"

"Oh, you poor thing." She didn't sound compassionate or sorrowful. She was smiling, looking down at the doll like a morsel. "Why don't you join me in my study. Then I can help you deal with those thoughts of yours."

The witch walks away, hesitating only for a second when it notices the doll is still frozen in place. She looks back, scoffing through her smirk. "That's a command, dear."

The doll's legs began to move.

. . . . .

The moonlight pools into the witch's cauldron, swirling as it dissipates a volatile air. It's as if it emanates an electricity, softly pulsing through the room.

The doll can't help but notice all the small hints of magic contaminating its surroundings. The wood finish of the bookshelves peeling to reveal a faint glow underneath, the way the curtains longingly sway without wind, and the way the candles illuminating the room seem to blink in unison.

The witch sits across from her toy, behind a desk cluttered with half-finished scrolls. She leans forward on her elbows, staring the doll down as she rests her glare on intertwined hands. The doll sits with its knees together, arms overlapping as it tries to soothe itself with its own contact.

"Curtsy, dear."

The doll sits with its ankles crossed and legs tilted to the side, placing its hands together on its lap.

The witch closes her eyes and tilts her head, giving a smile exhale of satisfaction. "Good doll. Do you feel more like yourself yet?"

The doll was still tense, barely managing to look at its witch. It was in a cage with a predator, one with a voice like silk and a smile like god. "Y-yes Miss, this one-"

"The truth, dear."

"No Miss."

The doll was a hollowed out empty space shaped like a person. It had no heart to race, no bones to chill, and no muscles to shudder. It felt that absence desperately, craving nothing more than a release of this tension. "This one feels out of place as a doll. As if it is a human that does not belong."

The witch leans back, almost sending a ripple through the imperceptible density that surrounded them. As if the magic wasn't even there, as if it was air. This woman could kill anything that lives in a thousand ways with no resistance. The world lives and dies by her whims, and dolls are very replaceable.

"Why would that be, dear?" There was a flirtatious edge to her words, playing with her toy. She placed a hand on her cheek and gave a pitying look, an intentional pose. "Why don't you tell me about the parts of dollhood you don't agree with. Stillness, obedience, docility… and your purpose, of course." She giggled.

The doll wished it could breath, calming itself, stalling so it could think even for a moment. But it was commanded by its witch. It started talking before it could even chose between resistance or obedience, as a natural reflex.

It recites its feelings like a presentation. "This one struggles to find stillness, it finds obedience involuntary and intrusive, its docility is an enforced persona, and…" it looks down, flinching away for only a moment, but it is a harsh disobedience, hurting as if it was staring into the sun. "This one feels disconnected from its purpose. Miss."

The witch waited patiently until her doll was finished to sigh. "Oh, what a shame. You don't seem very much like a doll at all, do you?"

The witch stood up and sauntered to where the doll sat, almost flying through the oppressive atmosphere. She stands behind the doll, waiting for just long enough to make it flinch when she places a single finger on its exposed neck, just above the strap of her uniform. "I suppose I have no choice but to give you your humanity back. Let you run along back to that 'existence' people seem so keen on."

Scratching. As the doll's neck curved, the witch twisted her finger just enough to have the edge of it barely scrape along the doll's hardened exterior.

The witch placed her arm around the doll, resting her weight on its back. She lowered her voice to a whisper as she moved her lips to its ear. "Unless you'd like to stay here with me~"

The doll was silent. Stiff, but not still. It was desperate to react, but it didn't know how. Even if it did, it would never dare to break the witch's command, even if it wanted to.

"That was a question, dear. Good dolls respond."

"This one wants to be a doll Miss." It squeaked out, hurried.

"Oh? And here I thought you weren't enjoying yourself." The witch tightened her hug, raising her chest to press against the doll's back. "Whatever could be driving you to stay?"

She's so warm. She's so soft.

"Speak."

"You Miss."

"Louder." The witch purred, digging her claws oh so gently into her prey.

"You, Miss."

The witch let out a husky, sinister chuckle, nuzzling her head into the nape of the doll's neck. Even then, it was perfectly stiff. "I thought you said you were 'disconnected from your purpose'. Did I hear you wrong, dear?"

"N… no, miss."

"Then you lied to me, didn't you~?"

"…This one didn't-"

"Yes or no, dear."

It whimpered. "Yes Miss."

The witch playfully tsk-tsk'd in disapproval as her removed her grip from her doll, standing back up straight. She towered over her toys even when they stood, and now in its seat her doll had to crane its neck to look up at its witch as she deserved.

"That's a big mistake, doll." She speaks with the same flirtatious playfulness as she always has, circling around to the doll's front. She placed a hand on the doll's head, trusting it with her weigh as she straddled her legs around the doll's torso, sitting on its lap. It deliberately leaned away from the doll, sparing it from any of her tantalizing closeness.

She reaches around the doll to grab the back of the chair. "Bad dolls need to be punished. And since I'm feeling generous…" Slowly, ever so slowly, she leaned forward. "…You'll have the honour of choosing your punishment."

She finally felt her chest press against the doll's face. The hem of her bodice opened just barely enough to let the doll rest its head in her cleavage. "It's a big decision. Take all the time you need~"

It wanted to stay here, oh so badly it did. It wanted to spend the rest of their eternities letting Miss lean herself against it, using it as nothing but a support while letting it smother in her wonderful body. But it was a doll, and it was given a command.

It leans away just enough to speak. "This one would like to be put on display, Miss." It decided with little deliberation. "This one thinks it is a fitting punishment for a failed doll."

The witch grabbed the back of her doll's head, leaning it just forward enough to give it a deep and passionate kiss on the forehead. "Oh, how predictable. I'm not sure if this will be a punishment for you, but I did make a promise, after all~"

She places both hands on the doll's thighs, giving them a gentle squeeze as she hoists herself back upward. The witch turns away, hesitating only for a second when it notices the doll is still frozen in place. She looks back, scoffing through her smirk.

"Do I need to tell you to do everything, dear?" The witch snapped her fingers. "Come."

The doll obeyed.

. . . . .

The doll was a hollowed out empty space shaped like a person. It had no heart to race, no bones to chill, and no nerves to shudder. In its current state, it couldn't even smile. Its witch clearly commanded it to be perfectly still.

It stood next to the couch, facing away from the wall. It was standing at attention, fully on display, no uniform hiding the artistry of Miss's favourite decoration.

The doll assigned to tidy the living quarters finished its task at the coffee table, now moving on to the new installation. There is no recognition in its eyes, just a docile readiness to perform its task.

It's holding a feather duster.

[sunandflame]

Alber "King" MODERN AU: Government Experiment Survivor | Underground Fighter

Alber, who was taken from an orphanage at just 3 years old, labeled "unclaimed" and selected for a government experiment that erased his identity before it ever formed.

Alber, whose childhood was replaced with laboratories and locked rooms, trained like a weapon and shaped through years of genetic editing and violent physical conditioning.

Alber, whose body was designed to endure what others could not — with muscle density beyond normal, reinforced bones, suppressed empathy, and a nervous system that learned to silence pain before it could reach his brain.

Alber, the most successful prototype they ever created — silent, obedient, inhumanly resilient — until he disappeared at 17 during a transport blackout, killing two handlers and vanishing into smoke and silence.

Alber, who no longer existed in any system, who gave himself a new name — King — not as a title, but as a shield. A way to hide in plain sight while the government still hunted ghosts.

King, who stands at 2 meters tall ��� that’s 6 feet 7 inches of broad, quiet mass. A man built like a fortress, with a presence that fills any room he walks into, even when he says nothing at all.

King, who fights in illegal underground circuits, cash-only, off-grid, nameless — known only by bruised mouths and broken ribs.

King, whose reputation carries further than his voice ever has: undefeated, silent, merciless. A myth in the flesh. Rumors say he doesn’t feel pain. No one knows where he goes after the match ends.

King, who moves like he’s still being watched. Who fights with brutal efficiency — a fusion of military kill-strikes and raw street brawling. There is no waste in his motion, only intent.

King, whose back is carved with a massive black wings tattoo — spanning shoulder to hip, inked with precision and grief. A monument to what he was supposed to be, and what they tried to take.

King, who lives above a junkyard in an abandoned apartment, walls stained with oil and silence. A mattress on the floor. Taped-over mirrors. A punching bag swinging like a pendulum in a room that never changes.

King, who eats the same meals. Who trains every morning. Who fixes bikes and cars for cash and does side security at a bar where no one makes eye contact.

King, who doesn’t let anyone close. Who doesn’t speak unless it matters. Who makes every word feel like a loaded gun.

King, whose body is all survival but whose soul still flickers behind burned-out eyes. Who isn’t cruel — just disconnected. Emotionally shut down, because nothing inside him was ever allowed to grow.

King, who watches the door even when it’s locked. Who never sleeps through the night. Who wakes up mid-fight, fists clenched, breath caught in a memory that doesn’t belong to this world.

King, who carries phantom pain and names he doesn’t say out loud. Who remembers the screaming, the silence, the training rooms painted red.

You, who didn’t flinch when he walked in bloodied and silent. Who didn’t ask for explanations. Who didn’t treat him like a threat — or a myth.

You, who spoke to him gently. Who handed him a clean towel. Who called him by name like it wasn’t something stolen.

You, who kept showing up. Who never pried, never demanded. Who looked at him like he was human, not haunted.

He never thought he could want. Not anything real. Not softness. Not warmth. Not you.

He doesn’t know how to touch gently, but he learns. Slowly. With still hands and shallow breath. He learns to stay when everything in him says run.

He tries to keep you away. Puts up walls that don’t speak, closes doors that never truly lock. You find your way in anyway. And that’s what terrifies him most — not that you’ll leave. But that you’ll stay. And someone will find you. And someone will hurt you. And it will be because of him.

[talonabraxas]

“This love is actually part of you; it is always flowing through you. It’s like the subatomic texture of the universe, the dark matter that connects everything. When you tune in to that flow, you will feel it in your own heart—not your physical heart or your emotional heart, but your spiritual heart, the place you point to in your chest when you say, “I am.” ― Ram Dass

Solar Logos Talon Abraxas The Solar Logos is inherently the Avatar Christos Matrix, which is the fourth triad of intelligence that holds the higher frequency bands of the 10th, 11th and 12th dimensions in our Universal Time Matrix. The triadic identity of the Avatar Matrix is required to link into the Soul Matrix in order to directly ascend back into the Universal Mind and Cosmic Logos. This level of consciousness embodiment is now possible from within any section of the time matrix. The Avatar Christos is the energetic reality of experiencing Unity with God, embodying the Unity Logos as an intelligent consciousness field, where enlightened extra-dimensional contact begins for working in Universal Service for the Cosmic Sovereign Law of One. Tri-Matrix of Maharata Solar Logos Mind

The complete tri-matrix identity of the 10D-11D-12D Avatar layers merge into the three levels of frequency of the Universal Christos field, which make up the Krystic Mind, the Buddhic Mind and the Nirvanic Mind. This unified trinity mind matrix is the blueprint record for the Christos Tribal Shield, and is how the entire human race can connect their inner Christos with the Maharata Christos Tribal Shield. To activate the diamond sun template of the human race, the quickest method is through the activation of the Christos Tribal Shield recorded in the Albion that holds the entire human race divine Christos blueprint, which represents the natural order of each consciousness body as it manifested identities throughout the timelines. Universal Gates

The most powerful Universal Gates in our system which relate to controlling the operational functions in our time matrix are those located in the Cradle of Lyra; 12D Aramatena, 11D Aveyon, and 10D Vega, along with the 8D Orion Gates. The Lyran gates were destroyed during the Lyran Wars, which destroyed the architecture for the Solar Logos Christ Body in this Universal system, and then the Black Hole Entities went to Orion in order to secure the 8D Metagalactic Core as a military base and AI command control center for themselves. Fourth Harmonic Universe

For human beings, these consciousness bodies exist throughout the densities and are aspects of the higher self and Lightbody. These aspects are called the Stations of Identity. The fourth Harmonic Universe is the Solar Logos.In the Fourth Harmonic Universe in 10D-11D-12D exists the three layers of the Christos Avatar Matrix. The 11D Layer is the Buddhic Body. In the Fourth Harmonic Universe in 10D-11D-12D the future earth blueprint in its crystalline form in the exists the three layers of the Aramatena or Aurora Earth Matrix.

Galactic Wars

With the onset of the Galactic Wars, there was utter destruction of the Solar Stargate architecture that formed the triadic identity of the Solar Logos, which is the highest emanation of the Source system that powers the eternal Soul and Spirit throughout the lower dimensions. This is similar to saying the eternal Soul of the Sun was disconnected from its lower dimensional Soul matrices, which were evolving in the lowest density of the phantom areas with artificial timelines being used by the NAA. Further, these lunar forces were abusing alien technology and broadcasting Mind Control programing in order to gain full control over the Earth. Without the Solar Logos, the Sun and its many Soul matrices would eventually expire and not fully ascend into the next Universe. The Solar Logos has the Source power to resurrect Solar Consciousness forms by rebirthing Soul matrices from within the Diamond Sun template of the Cosmic Christos Consciousness. Without the Solar Logos, and with the utter destruction of the Diamond Sun template, the Souls would continue to descend and fragment. Conflict to Control Solar Christ DNA

When the Cradle of Lyra was destroyed in the Lyran Wars with the invading Orion Groups, this caused the destruction of the Solar Logos, the Cosmic Christos, the Avatar Matrix level of consciousness in our Universe. These Galactic Wars damaged the Universal portals exiting out of this time matrix, and destroyed the Lyran DNA which was the original embodiment of the Silicate Matrix, the Diamond Sun DNA that enabled the capacity to live as an eternal Krystal Avatar human being. Universal 12th Gate Destruction, Fall of Nibiru and Tiamat

The Lyran War timeline holds the cellular memory of the collective shadow bodies and all of the fragmentation and disintegration that occurred during the destruction of the 12th Lyran Universal Stargate. As a result of the destruction of the 12D Universal Stargate, the planets Nibiru and Tiamat were partially exploded and then captured and forced into inorganic orbits around the Sun, which removed them from their Capstone Nodus position in the Universal Tree of Life or Kathara Grid.

Nibiru and Tiamat’s planetary crystal core were connected to the twinned suns of the Universal Elaysa-Melchizedek Logos, through the Cradle of Lyra in the triple stars of Aramatena, Aveyon and Vega, which were universal gates that led out of the time matrix. The Universal 12th Gate of Aramatena was once the 12D capstone for pre-fall Nibiru which held the Nirvanic mind frequency bands of the Solar Logos. When Aramatena was destroyed, it allowed for the easy capture of Nibiru which became outfitted by the invaders as a Battlestar.

Many of the Founders with organic Emerald Sun DNA body parts that functioned as Capstones for supporting the lower dimensions, which included the sapphire architecture of the 10th gate Holy Mother as the Tiamat Logos, were made vulnerable for attack and capture with the blueprint schematics being uploaded into AI technology and being in enemy hands. Covenant of Paliador

In their infinite love for creation the original Diamond Sun races, the Paliadorians, established the Covenant of Paliador millions of years ago to reclaim the fragmented Souls as a result of the Taran Explosion. The Covenant of Paliador encompasses a massive scope of locating lost souls, transiting consciousness, collecting and recovering Soul fragments that need bodies, routing attachments and consciousness units that need to be recovered, in order to return them to the possibility of continuing evolution through the Cosmic Time Matrix. The Paliadorians hold the access into the Universal Stargates and the many internal portal structures that exist inside every planet in our Solar System. These portals, such as the Trinity Gates, will serve as the transit gate exit for many of the Soul groups that will move through them for their continued evolution and learning in the next planetary schema. In order to heal the Soul groups that suffered fragmentation and digressed into the phantom realms, it would be necessary to completely rebuild the Diamond Sun architecture for the Solar Logos in our Universal Time Matrix. Solar Stargate Damage

The damage incurred to the Solar Stargate system and Sun Disc Network disconnected the Avatar Christ Matrix spiritual-communication links inside the planetary Core Manifestation Template, plummeting the Earth into the darkest age. This damage to the core template and its subsequent disconnection from the Solar Logos generated a Closed System of finite energy supply that prevented planetary ascension and terminated communication with the extradimensional Diamond Sun families. The NAA groups took advantage of the closed system and the fragmented Souls of Tara as they were reseeded back into the Earth timelines to reclaim their lost Soul parts. As a result of the planetary grid damage, they had lost their Soul memories and many were recycled repeatedly into the lower dimensional bands of the 3D earth timelines, unable to heal their Soul Matrix, evolve or ascend as their consciousness body was stuck in time. Aton Solar Disk

The Aton Solar Disk becomes an embodied shield in the ascending Starseeded and human Lightbody, into the solar sacrum and RA Center of the Krystallah Double Diamond Sun DNA Template during the Ascension Cycle as part of the restoration of the Solar Sacrum in the gender center. This disk when activated into the 10-11-12D Solar Logos base shield, underneath the feet on the horizontals, aligns with the 10D Solar Star above the head, which continues to repattern into the higher crown center. As this is restored through the personal Lightbody of an ascending male or female, the crown is shifted into the organic North star, which is leading home back into the God Worlds. Avala Constellation, Nine Holy Stars

The Avala Constellation is a 9 Sun-Star Constellation, accessed behind the Pegasus constellation in Lyra. From the Great Square of Pegasus, move slightly northeast to locate Vega and the Lyra (Constellation). Avala was connected by the Albion Lightbody during the Cosmic Energy Cycle openings during December of 2022, as the Elaysa-Melchizedek Twinned Suns appeared to highlight the parallel Ecousha Matrix, where the 22D, 23D and 24D three fold Sapphire-Ruby-Emerald Crystal Diamond Eye of God was revealed. As these Solar Reisha-Rishi founders were accessing these layers from the 24D Elaysian and 24D Melchizedek Reconnections to that eye of god, they ventured upon King Arthur's Star Body which appeared as Earth's Body inside the Solar Logos, feeling to be in the Parallels of Ecousha Matrix matters in the Universal Time Matrix parallels. This appeared to reveal guardian host founders to see or feel the Avala Star Constellation and to have that access from the merging and hierogamic union of the Elaysa-Melchizedek Suns happening at that time.

[korpuskat]

Engineering Ecstasy

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (Gender Neutral, implied to have a vagina) Rating: Explicit WC: 2,065 Warnings: None

-----

Surrounded by tools and screens and lights, Ramattra stands in his workshop and stares at the device before him. It floats softly on a light pad. Beside it, a screen shows off its blueprints, complete with a cut-away view, to show where each piece will lay, where the sensors are suspended, the indicator lights. It's rather a marvel, if he's truly being genuine- the design is custom, the inlaid nodes are all cutting edge, fast and sensitive and durable. Every aspect has been nurtured and guided into the form displayed before him.

And this is the lowest he has ever felt.

Because the appendage that floats before him is an imitation of a human cock. A mockery, even, intended in every way to be better, but perhaps... familiar enough to not be off-putting. He hopes.

It's shameful.

Making the thing itself is not the problem. Life was meant to be enjoyed, omnics were meant to explore and seek new experiences and integrate themselves among humanity- sex was a part of that. Even at the monastery it wasn't unusual for those omnics that had the hardware to use it- and to discuss the implications of having it to begin with. But he did not envy his brothers and sister who were made with genitals. Ramattra had never seen the appeal; all the ecstasy and release from sensory overload could be achieved without any attachments.

He had not understood the desire until you.

You and your laughter that plays endlessly in his memory banks, your soft, fleeting touches to his plating that tingle hours after, your kind words that pull his mind from the task at hand. He's itched endlessly to reach out and touch you, to know what it is about you that's made his processors hang, caught endlessly in the minutia of your existence. And how he wishes it was just simple fascination- he hates how quickly it turned to him prodding at his own sensory nodes, plucking wires in his hips and wishing it was your hands instead.

This- the purple silicone device in his hand- is only the latest fantasy he's indulged.

After all, what if he were to finally approach you and you were uninterested in toying with his systems? And even if you were, he wouldn't be able to please you at the same time-- he would not risk an unintentional twitch of his hands. This... this was just an investment in the future. He hadn't quite gathered your input on the design or shape or size-- or expressed his interest in you at all-- but he'd invested time to research popular shapes, ones well-received by humans. This... he's fairly sure will please you, if you let him- and if it isn't to your tastes, then he'll make it again and-

...

He should probably test it, before he gets ahead of himself.

He takes the cock in one hand and examines the ports, where it will connect to his frame. He squeezes it, feeling the firmness of the silicone. Honestly, he isn’t sure what density he was aiming for; it’s so much softer than his plating, he has no idea what would be ideal. Not just for what you want from him either; if the silicone's curing has somehow distorted a wire or dulled the sensors’ abilities, then the whole design will have to be scrapped.

Ramattra's hands shake as he disconnects the paneling at the end of his torso. Before, this little crevice had only housed a chip for monitoring the health of his hip joints. Now that was pushed further back towards his spine- with a minor upgrade to allow for more precise movements, smoother rotation of the joint- given the purpose of the device, it felt appropriate to make sure he could use it correctly. Where the chip had sat before is a new plate with two jack outputs.

They line up with the ports, at least. Ramattra allows himself one more moment of preparation before slotting them together. The circuits connect at once- and the buses inside are still working, aligning themselves with his systems, synchronizing, adjusting the pre-loaded drivers, running a self-check automatically. The internal display of his model updates- and another wave of shame nearly makes him pluck it off again as the cock- his cock- appears on the diagram.

The self-check concludes, the indicator lights flash green- muddied through the purple- then match his preset red. Every system reports back: ready, online. Between his legs his cock stands proudly. The translucent silicone glows where the red lights shine just under the surface.

He could leave it at that…

but he should test the sensors. After all, they all might be online, but they still might need adjustments. He has no idea if the silicone has disturbed their functionality at all. Hesitantly, as though the appendage would burn him, Ramattra touches the surface above one LED. It's smooth and cool to the touch. Something prickles in his sensory subroutines, the data input on his cock is so minuscule and yet so sensitive.

He wraps one finger and thumb around the base. Instantaneously, warmth spreads through his circuits, settles into those wires at his hips. He strokes upwards-

”Aaah…” The noise slides from his voice box unbidden, a kernel-level reaction to stimuli coming forth unintentionally. And Ramattra would make a note to investigate that, to minimize uncontrolled reactions- except that every process is overridden by the drag of silicone on metal, on the rubber pad of his palm, on how every wire in his body is lighting up.

One stroke and it’s like you’ve breathed on every sensor in his body. And you- how does his mind always wander back to you?- your hands would be so much smaller, softer- delicate, even. You would- he shudders, delves into fantasy- You would start so slowly, fingers barely touching him. His hand mimics his thoughts, loosening until there’s barely any pressure, stroking so slowly it hurts. Maybe you’d be nervous- it’s okay, he would be too.

And you- you would see how he’ll try to be still, to let you explore him, and you’d see how badly he needs more. You would be kind to him, wouldn't you? With those soft smiles, you wouldn't deny him. At least, in his fantasy. His grasp tightens again, thinks only of your little hands on his cock.

Each motion brings fire through his circuits, a haze to his mind. You… oh, you could do this to him as long as you wanted. Forever, maybe, if it always felt like he was burning from the inside out. Maybe... you would touch him elsewhere, too. Perhaps bracing yourself against his chest or shoulder, or exploring his ribbon cables or along his neck, down the sensitive, covered wires of his spine. He can almost feel you, your weight across his thighs, stroking with one hand and holding him close with the other- and he would hold you, splay his hands across your back and lean in closer to press his array to your forehead.

The thought alone has him shuddering, warmth spreading in his chest and-

and he needs more.

He would whisper to you, May I have you?, but even in his own mind he sounds desperate, aching.

It wouldn't matter, because you would say Yes, of course, I'm yours.

He groans aloud at the last one; yes, yes, he wants- he needs you. To have you, not just in physicality, but in every other way he can imagine. And he imagines much. Like how you'd move, how you'd reveal yourself to him. It isn't what lies beneath that excites him- it's you doing it at all, showing him what you hide from everyone else. Letting him explore you the same way, though he's not sure what you would feel like. Most of his experience with human skin and flesh is not what he wants to associate with you, so he skims this part of his fantasy until he's prodding between your thighs.

The internet has helped him visualize this part. He may not know what sensations you would provide him there, but he can picture your face when he slides into you. How your brow pinches, how your lips part- and you would be so wet for him-

and suddenly the drag of metal and rubber on silicone is not nearly enough. He needs- he needs to know how it would feel, that slickness you would surround him with. His workshop table provides an obvious option. A bottle of machine lubricant would be close enough- anything at all to sate the impulse. He pours the oil over his hands- and thinks of his fingers covered in your arousal instead.

When he strokes this time, there's hardly any friction at all. A smooth glide from root to tip has him throwing his head back, voice box crackling out another broken moan. All of that burning inside becomes liquid, waves of hot pleasure that crash over him with stunning ease. His hips twitch into his palm- and he lets the instinctive chase of desire take over, fucking into his fist with abandon.

He imagines you on top of him- and oh, he'd have to be so gentle with you, but he can't with himself now. He'd hold you, careful with his hands when his hips aren't. You'd cling to him, barely keeping yourself up as he fucks you- and he likes that, how you'd melt against him in pleasure. The pleasure he gives you. You would trust him with this, that he wouldn't harm you. And in turn, the moans he's heard in his research would be nothing compared to the noises from your lips. Would you be loud, quiet? Would you call his name- oh, yes- an overheat warning pops into his HUD, he likes that. How you'd sound saying his name, moaning it in broken tones, like his staticked voice as he pleases you until you-

his frame shudders as he strokes himself faster, imagines how your face would twist and pinch as you'd near your end with him. Would you tremble when you finished? And inside, what does it feel like in-

His ventilation falters, half his fans seizing as tips over the edge. Pleasure floods the same wires he used to manipulate, a white static rushing through every logic circuit, drowning out every thought as his body rushes to dump the excess sensory input. Heat surrounds him- literal heat, as his processors run and run with no coolant pumping. A droning noise fills his workshop- and it takes much too long for him to realize it's his own synth.

A pop-up tells his release vents have opened- a quiet hissing of steam and hot air rushing out somewhere. His fans resume their buzzing pace as he finally begins to cool off.

Ramattra falls back onto his workshop table and lays there, waiting for his systems to completely refresh- and enjoying the lingering tingles like sparks between wires. After only a few moments the high has passed, systems flushed and returned to working order. An automatic check returns ready, online across every parameter.

And Ramattra is left with his own cock once more standing proudly between his thighs. Perhaps that would be awkward for you, in the time afterwards.

Afterwards. When you're flushed and panting and curled up next to him- you would stay, wouldn't you? He's read humans need care once the activity itself has concluded. His refresh would mean he could tend to you in whatever way you needed; sustenance, contact (though, he would have to purchase pillows), perhaps he could clean you. A stray thought slips by, the image conjured before he can stop himself: What would you look like with...?

The shame returns, but Ramattra suspends the feeling and adds a note to the blueprints of his cock- should he make another, he'll add a fluid reservoir tank. It's practical, he argues. Self-lubrication would make this much easier.

With an internal tank he could leave his fluids on you- in you. Non-toxic- in case you wanted to... A prickle of stray electricity runs down his spine. His fist curls around the silicone again, still slick with oil. With the thought of your tongue peaking out to taste him, he can't stop himself from beginning to stroke again.

After all, another set of data would be very useful...

[estuaryghoul]

ghoul density headcanon¡!

Due to having to deal with the immense pressure of hellwater, Water ghouls are actually the heaviest (though they may not look it LOL). little pretty, slender Rain is like a 10 ton statue, almost immovable when he wants to be

the earth ghouls are also built like brick house. while they can be kinda,,, crumbly,,, they are INCREDIBLY strong and very unphased by physical damage as they recover quickly (usually)

quints are kinda weird, they aren't fully solid so it's hard to determine, but they seem fairly humanlike probably? depending on their energy they can almost seem weightless, or similarly immovable (looking at you phant, mom said it's my turn on the xbox!!!!)

fire and air are both fairly light, air have hollow bones like birds so they can float/glide with their element. fire on the other hand are just hot air so to speak ;P

multis can kinda depend on their combined elements, aurora (quint+air) is light and floaty, swiss (earth+fire) is pretty average in human terms. dew had the density burned out of him during his transformation and it only helps to add to the disconnection to his body,, derealization hours : (

[spacenutspod]

The moment one galaxy spears another with a powerful beam of radiation shooting from its central black hole has been spotted in a distant galactic collision.It's the first time we've seen this kind of interaction in an ongoing galactic merger, and the effects on the 'wounded' galaxy are pretty devastating, suppressing star formation as the beam of radiation clears the clouds from which baby stars are born. The team of researchers that discovered the system has named it the 'cosmic joust'. "Here we see for the first time the effect of a quasar's radiation directly on the internal structure of the gas in an otherwise regular galaxy," says astronomer Sergei Balashev of the Ioffe Institute in Russia, who co-led the research with Pasquier Noterdaeme of the Institut d'Astrophysique de Paris in France.Throughout the Universe, nearly as far back as our telescopes can see, astronomers have found and studied galactic collisions. The Universe is not a random, disconnected hodgepodge of galaxies, but is connected by a vast, invisible web of dark matter that gravitationally channels galaxies into clusters, where they often collide and merge to form bigger galaxies. This activity is thought to play a major role in galactic growth and evolution, and the growth of the supermassive black holes at their cores. It's a long, slow process on human timescales, playing out over millions of years as galaxies move close enough to be snared by each other's gravity, swooping past each other repeatedly in ever-shrinking orbits until they finally come together to form one galaxy.The field of view around the cosmic joust, which is the tiny white dot inside the yellow circle in the middle of the image. (DESI Legacy Survey)The repeated swooping stage is where the cosmic joust is at now, but with one key difference: one of the galaxies is a quasar. That's what happens when the supermassive black hole at the center of a galaxy is feeding at a tremendous rate from a giant cloud of material swirling around it. The gravitational and frictional forces at play heat this cloud to temperatures of millions of degrees, causing it to blaze with light. But there's another effect too: some of the material swirling towards the black hole gets diverted and accelerated along the magnetic field lines around the outside of the event horizon to the poles, where it is launched into space at tremendous speeds approaching that of light. In the case of the cosmic joust, when the quasar swoops past the other galaxy at speeds of around 500 kilometers (310 miles) per second, its jets blast into its sparring partner. That disrupts the star-forming clouds of dust and gas therein, leaving very little behind and thereby suppressing star formation activity.Some of the wounded galaxy's gas also gets gravitationally purloined by the quasar galaxy. This gas makes its way to the galactic center to add fuel to the black hole's rampage. The quasar activity isn't exactly healthy for star formation in its own galaxy, either. As the black hole frenziedly guzzles down material, it blasts out powerful black hole winds in all directions. These high-speed outflows push away and clear the host galaxy's own star-forming material, a process known as quenching (because it quenches star formation). While both galaxies are undergoing some tribulations, their ongoing interaction offers hope for new life. When galaxies collide, their gas reservoirs also collide, with shocks between them creating regions of over-density, the gravitational collapse of which germinates the seeds of new stars. Sometimes, it takes a bit of disruption to ignite a new stage of life… even for galaxies in the infancy of the Universe.The team's research has been published in Nature.

[momo33me]

The Hunger in Gaza – And the Silence in Israel

The humanitarian situation in Gaza in June 2025 is among the most severe witnessed in the 21st century. However, the Israeli media – almost entirely – chooses to ignore it. No coverage. No broadcasts. No cameras. The Israeli public is completely disconnected from what the entire world sees with its own eyes: an open, ongoing, deteriorating hell.

One slide is enough to clarify everything: three concentration areas populated with tents, at incomprehensible density (0.25 square meters per person = a 50x50 cm tile) – without water, without electricity, without any basic living conditions. Five distribution centers – one in Netzarim and four around Rafah – have become pilgrimage sites for hundreds of thousands of hungry people, forced to walk many kilometers just to find perhaps some food, some flour, maybe water. Maybe.

This situation worsens daily. The death toll in the Strip is stable – meaning stable at horrific levels: 80 to 100 killed per day, and hundreds wounded. Not in battles, not in combat, but around attempts to bring in humanitarian aid. Yes, you read correctly – humanitarian aid has become a death trap. This is not an accident; this is a method.

Most casualties in recent days occur around two main aid channels:

Aid convoys to international organizations – entering from Israel through Kerem Shalom, Netzarim, Erez, and Zikim.

The Gaza Humanitarian Fund (GHF) – an American initiative with Israeli funding, operating four distribution sites in the Strip.

This aid, which should save the public, is systematically looted by armed gangs – sometimes under Hamas supervision or backing. The cargo becomes merchandise in the black market. Those with money – survive. Those without – perish.

With international convoys – it's enough for the trucks to move one kilometer away from the border, and that's the signal for attacks. Gunmen shoot at the wheels, block the road with explosives, or open fire. Sometimes shooting incidents break out between gangs near the trucks. And if that's not enough – even hungry displaced persons, waiting all night, attack the trucks in a desperate attempt to obtain food.

And at the Humanitarian Fund? The farce there is even worse. The company, which declares it doesn't distribute aid but only "places it on the ground," creates looting sites. Within minutes, hungry people, armed clans, and sometimes Hamas itself attack. Dozens are killed each time: from IDF fire securing the area, from internal clashes, or from mass trampling.

The aid? It doesn't reach those who need it. It disappears on the way, gets looted, gets sold. This is a market – not compassion.

And so, under the nose of the Israeli public, within thunderous consent of silence – Israel is part of this system. The supplier. The approver. The funder. The military force in the field. And the Israeli public has no idea.

This reality – of complete humanitarian collapse, mass hunger, internal terror, a channeled black market – operates under the radar. And all of us – if we remain silent – become partners to it.

Enough with the denial. Enough with the ignoring. Those who wish to look at reality with open eyes – should look now.

Thanks to Prof. Yaakov Garb from Ben-Gurion University for monitoring the area using satellite imagery, to Arnon Regular for the situation picture from within the field, and to Reshef Moriah from the 'Tamror' research group for preparing the maps.

[evilminji]

New Question Haunting Me

Is the ENTIRE Zone Green or just the region Danny got spat into?

Cause we know Ectoplasm can change colors.

And the Zone IS literally Infinite.

The Caribbean ocean and the Arctic ocean look different, despite both being sea water. And Carbon sure can make ALL SORTS of funny shapes. Does the Zone have Regions? Actually, yes. We know it does.

Better question. Does it have Nebula? Like, WELL beyond plant sized areas. So big, that even with unobstructed view, you can't really see the edge of the color shift?

My brain is telling me? That the most LIKELY scenario? Is because it's Infinte? It's both There and Here. Just? The Zone, Repeated. With this being the Green One. A specific SHADE of many. Countless.

You just? Go 90 at a degree angle while standing still, maybe a little to the back-up-down-turn-left aaaand? Now you are in the Red Zone. Do it again, everything's monochrome. Etc.

Each place has its own Vibe. Probably it's own Monarch.

Likely just one Clockwork.

But? So far? All the Ectoplasm has come from, effectively This Specific Pool? The own closest and easiest to access from their universe. Which happens to be Green.

It could very well be like different gasses, per color. Different energy waves. Pulling different personality types towards different Zones of THE Zone. You very well COULD turn a corner, metaphorically, and find what to the ancients eye looks like Heaven.

Drifting clouds, endless bliss, soft light. All seen through some temporary portal. While another? Holy SHIT. Everything's on FIRE and people are tearing each other apart! Scary and bad! That must be some sort of punishment!

You see enough glimpses of the alien and untranslateable? It gets hard to explain REAL fast. But you become certain of what you know. Filter it through the lense of your experiences and cultural understandings.

Would be interesting to figure out how those glimps even HAPPENED. Was it the metaphysical "weight" of humanity? Slowly sinking Realm in the sea of the Zone until it reaches the correct ectoplasmic density? A way too support the expanding number of Souls being created?

What must, then, they have been able to see? When Humans were new? If the population keeps increasing, will the Portal in Fenton Works start to disconnect? As Reality is dragged down a layer? What effect does that have on the collective subconscious?

If Danny became King of the Green, would he have to stay THERE? Negotiate with the Monarch of where comes next? I have QUESTIONS! I want to STUDY THE GOO! Somebody let me poke the radioactive substance with a STICK!

@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe

[caterpillar-the-magnet]

Magnetism

Powers [all are products of magnetism]

. Magnetic momentum control (moves objects) . Magneto-static potential (magnetic charge) . Magnetic flow (moves material) . Magnetism-induced electric current (electricity) . Magneto-saturate repulsion (concussive force) . Magnetic marking (magnetic writing) . Magneto-influx thermo-regulation (heat control) . Magnetic compression energy containment (imprisonment) . Unstable magneto-conductivity rupturing (explosions) . Magnetism-induced gravity suppression (zero gravity) . Magnetic percussion (bulletproof aura) . Magnetic Newtonian-force dispersal (wind blade) . Magnetic ionisation (radiation poisoning) . Magneto-atomic charge manipulation (elemental transformation) . Photo-magnetic wave arching (laser bending) . Hydro-magnetic bond shifting (water state changing) . Psycho-magnetic stress suppression (mental clarity) . Ether-magnetic energy manipulation (power over ghosts) . Manna control (magical energy dominance) . Maji momentum control (curse control) . Novatic mastery (power over stars) . Info-horizon mastery (power over dark matter) . Alpha, beta and gamma radiation control (nuclear power) . Light spectrum manipulation (visual illusions) . Radio wave control (telecommunication hacking) . Microwave synchronising (the power of a microwave oven) . Electric current arching (bend lightning) . Carbon and silicon manipulation (no-one is safe) . Hydro-oxide bond manipulation (acidity regulation) . Nitrogen manipulation (don't live in an inhabitable environment) . Gallium state manipulation (gallium fluidity control) . Non-Newtonian state manipulation (can manipulate maize) . Plasma state manipulation (turns fire and lasers off) . Fire arching (fire bending) . Exothermic reaction ignition (fire generation) . Kryomagnetic energy control (sucks the life out of the room) . Crystal formation manipulation (jewels to rock and vice versa) . Magmatic flow control (tectonic %@$#ery) . Phosphoro-reactivity control (jetpack and firework control) . Magnesium permeation control (make boom bigger boom) . Hydrogen density control (summons the demon core) . Oxygen folding (ultraviolet control) . Monoatomic state manipulation (heavy metal control) . Material corporality control (phase through object) . Energy signal masking (untraceable) . Thermobaric cataclysm induction (smash rocks) . Fissure fibro-momentum control (knit wounds) . Time-flow rate warping (speed up and slow down time) . Higgs field control (reality warping / dimensional travel) . Magneto-gravitational weight control (crushing) . Sub-field atomic arrangement (shrinking) . Nuclear fission exponent (a nuclear blast) . Degloving (watch the uncensored music video to Rock DJ) . DNA manipulation (change someone's DNA) . Protein bond disassembly (flesh to soup) . Chloro-bond dissemination (bones to soup) . Magneto-potential signature repositioning (teleportation) . Psycho-magnetic signature broadcasting (cloning)

-

Weaknesses [all side effects of overuse of magnetic powers]

. Psycho-magnetic energy feedback (overstimulation) . Memory loss (Alzheimer's disease) . Over-stimulated brain function (epilepsy) . Nervous system dissemination (feebleness) . Psycho-magnetic energy withdrawal (brain freeze) . Cognition loop false stop (brain fog) . Identity disconnection (dissociative fugue) . Amygdala-specific coma (irrational fearlessness) . Pain-reaction loop discharge (thermo-sensory numbness) . Frontal lobe function suppression (zombie mode) . Adrenal chemical-potential overload (blind rage) . Lacto-reactive function collapse (cramps) . Lipo-function instability (pyrexic paralysis) . Spasmodic-induction self-perpetuation (muscle spasms) . Circulatory introstate induction (collapsed lungs) . Plexo-complex desynchronisation (erratic heart rhythm) . Follicle-wave electro-sensory neutrality (vertigo) . Canular rhythm regulation (tooth ache) . Olfactory static traversal blockade (no sense of smell) . Testosteronal-construction disintegration (withering) . Dendral-knotting friction lactation (scurvy) . Carto-seminate lubrication displacement (arthritis) . Osmoidal-salinate disparity (jaundice) . Symbiotic negotiation breakdown (auto-immune disease) . Hyperactive defence network runaway (allergic reaction) . Cock virus fungal-network reorganisation (shingles)

[thisworldisablackhole]

Blindsight, by Peter Watts - 4/5

I put this one off for too long. And for good reason. Blindsight has been touted as one of the hardest-to-parse science fiction novels ever, tackling a plethora of ideas, both technological and philosophical, with a cast of characters who could easily be described as psychopathic and/or insane, and a narrative hook centered around the idea of intelligence and consciousness. It's every bit as harrowing as it sounds, but thank god Peter Watts had enough rebellious whimsy in him to at least make it fun and put a scientifically plausible vampire in the story. No, really—Sarasti brought just the right amount of fantasy to break the surface tension in Watts' lofty psychological stronghold.

It helps that our main character, Siri Keeton, is also compelling enough on his own, so long as you can get behind the idea of a narrator who had half his brain ripped out and replaced with computer processors, who has lost his ability to empathize without mimicry, and acts mostly as an observer. His perspective may be a tad dry and analytical, but his account is authentic to who he is, and it's hard not to relate to the interpersonal challenges he faces despite being able to read people and process subliminal data like a savant. When Earth is snapshotted by 65,000 alien objects burning up in the atmosphere, thus taunting humanity into an interstellar goose chase, Siri is put on board because his detached perspective and cerebral augmentation makes him a crucial asset in understanding and giving an honest report of the situation (wink wink nudge nudge).

If I had to describe the general experience of Blindsight to someone, I'd say it's almost like if William Gibson wrote a space opera grounded in real science. Blindsight could definitely be considered cyberpunk adjacent due to its focus on characters who almost all have some sort of neurological or physical augments—apart from Siri, we have cyborg biologists who can possess machinery, an enhanced soldier who controls a whole army of automaton grunts, and a linguist with multiple self-inflicted personalities (who were actually a pain in the ass to keep track of). Sarasti, our vampire ringleader, even communes with Theseus—the AI-captained spaceship, which is honestly a whole character in itself with mysterious motives—by plugging a cable directly into his brainstem. The Gibson comparison comes with the clause that Watts' prose mostly comes off as Gibson-esque out of necessity to describe the sheer amount of far-flung tech surrounding our characters. When it comes down to sentence structure and flow, they are quite distinct, but they do have a similarly gritty tone and perhaps even a similar sense of humour.

One of my favourite concepts in all of Blindsight, though, has to be that of Heaven as a digital space where people essentially opt into medically induced comas where their bodies are kept physically alive but their consciousness roams the datumplane (stealing that word from Hyperion). The real kick is that individuals in Heaven become so disconnected from their physical selves as they get lost in the infinite realms of Heaven that when they do materialize themselves for an audience, they appear as an abstract mirage of floating lights, mirrors and data, although they retain their voice and most of their personality.

The sheer density of ideas really is the central strength of Blindsight. I won’t pretend to fully grasp everything Watts is trying to say about consciousness here, but it is presented in a compelling (and, more importantly, entertaining) enough manner to warrant further thought. The characters were all conceptually unique, but personality-wise they were quite dry. Siri and Sarasti were the only real highlights, and I love how Watts plays with your sympathy and fear of/for both characters. It is also really hard to follow what is physically happening a lot of the time. Watts is describing things most people have never and will never see in their lifetime, and he doesn't hold the readers hand or even so much as try to paint a clear picture; he dives straight into the micro level details, which makes for a visceral but spatially disorienting experience.

Despite its overwhelming nature, Blindsight has earned its reputation as a classic—partially due to the amount of unreliability in the narration and the amount of blind spots that Watts has left up to interpretation, which inspires a lot of speculation and incentive to re-read. The more this book simmers in the back of my mind, the more I love it; it is just so bold and well crafted, with steady pacing that really sneaks up and grabs you by the ankles in the last third or so. I can already tell that a second read will yield much more fruit.

[weatherstonethemedic]

Weather Update 3:

I am not going to focus on other regions, however I will address a nasty storm. A nasty storm has formed around South Knot City. It will be moving around upwards too Mountain Knot City and then towards the Distribution Center of South Knot City. For once, I know the storm's length. The storm is is 3km and will be falling in and out. There is a slim chance for tornadoes, originating from chiral density. South Knot City and Mountain Knot City may be hit the hardest. The Chiral Network will be disconnected because of the storm, in hopes that the storm will calm down. If tornadoes were to form, they'd be F1 or F2. So it shouldn't be too deadly towards nature or buildings. Those with DOOMs that can control chiral energy are appreciated too help on settling down that nasty storm. Fellow porters, I'd suggest to reside in any city and come out until your Head of District says it's good. Or, stay in a preppers place. From now on, I'll do my best to keep things updated. Stay safe.

[eclipsecrowned]

Meath isn't a Small Town. It's a county the same size as Dublin with half of the population but in clusters of mixed densities from busy main fairs to sprawling farm villages.

I think there has been a disconnect here between what I was trying to say vs what came out. In my head it was 'from a small town in Meath' but I get where I came across as a dumbass talking cities rather than counties by just saying 'from/in Meath.'

But either way the intent doesn't change in the sense of 'OC concerned with appearances would sooner dance on hot coals than admit she's a small town native rather than a rugged streetwise big city girl.' It's still large area vs small area, especially as the entire population of Meath at last count was about half of Dublin City alone.