#Alpha Re-Patterning

[novemberheart]

{overview} John and Johnny leave……does Simon step up to the plate?

{warnings} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141

Chapter 15 <- Chapter 16 -> Chapter 17

You had spent that whole night wrapped around Johnny, squeezing him like an anaconda.

“I’ll miss you a lot Mac,” you mumbled pitfully against his neck. It was time for him and John to leave, the sun not due to come up for another four hours.

“I’ll miss you too, peaches,” he murmured back, his grip on you crushing. “You'll be a good girl while we're away, yes?” He smiled against your head. John cleared his throat and you took the hint to untangle yourself. You kicked your legs a silent request to put you back on the ground. Johnny inhaled your scent, suddenly pressing kisses all over your face making you chuckle.

John held his arms out to you and he quickly lifted you up just like Johnny had done. His lips pressed firmly against your neck, vibrating against you as he spoke.

“We’ll call you when we can. When we can't we’ll make sure Laswell keeps you updated,” he assured.

“Be safe,” you whined, pressing yourself deeper into his shoulder. He held you there for a moment- this being harder than he had imagined.

“We’ll be back soon, pretty girl,” he pressed a kiss against your temple, pulling away to plant another one on your lips. He pulled away rather quickly, but you gripped his face pulling him back. “Now I really have to get back soon,” he chuckled, giving your temple one last peck.

They grabbed their bags by the front door, eyeing the three they were going to leave behind.

“Come on, lovie. Let's get you back to bed.” Kyle yawned, leading you to his room. You paused looking at Johnny's shut door. “We can sleep in there tonight. If you'd like,” Kyle offered softly, opening the door.

“He won't mind?” you asked hesitantly.

“You kidding me? Nothing would be better than comin’ home to a bed smellin’ like you,” Kyle smiled, clicking his tongue.

The next day was easier. You still had Kyle and Simon to rely on. Simon stepped up to double alpha duties, filling in for moments you usually shared with John. You were growing re-fond of Simon very fast. He was a complex creature. Grunting after you say something, only for him to pet the top of your head when he could tell you were in your thoughts too much.

Kate texted you that night.

Hi, love. The boys are fine. They just landed where they needed to be. They’ll try to call you later!

You smiled at the words. You missed them- but you weren't worried about them yet.

The next day was much harder. Knowing Kyle and Simon were leaving the next day.

“Simon?” you began softly. Simon had a mini zen garden in his office- a gag gift from Johnny. You enjoyed it though, making patterns in the sand. He grunted.

“I'm going to miss you while you're away, you know,” you said softly. You didn't expect him to say anything back, but you just had to tell him. The urge sitting under your skin like a ticking time bomb. If you didn't act on it you would throw yourself at him, gripping onto his shirt like your life depended.

“You’ll be fine, pup,” he assured. His voice was tender, making the ache in your chest deepen.

You don’t know if you're cut out for this.

“You’re with us because you’re tough,” He continued. “You’re a part of the pack, you need to act like it.”

You had never been one for tough love. However, when it came from Simon it eased you. Maybe it was his unwavering confidence or the fact that it showed he believed in you.

“Thank you, Simon,” you breathed.

“Remember what we talked about?” Simon questioned, while you clung to Kyle. You pulled your wet face from out under his chin, your bleary eyes staring up at the hulking man.

“Don’t answer the door unless I already have plans with someone. If there is something sketchy going on, hide in your bathroom and call the number on the sticky note on the bathroom mirror,” you repeated. Simon had turned his and John’s bathroom into a panic room in case something were to happen. You weren't sure if the idea soothed you or not. Regardless, it was a loving gesture. One that had the smell of a well-taken-care-of omega drifting off of you. It was quickly overshadowed by your bleak scent.

“And?”

“-and if I have a bad feeling about something I'm probably right,” you finished.

“Good girl.”

A kiss being pressed against the outside of your ear brought you back to the beta you still had your claws in.

“Kyky?” you hummed.

“Yes, lovie?” he hummed back, swaying the two of you back and forth. Simon made no move to rush either of you.

“Can I sleep in your bed while you're away?” you asked quietly. He agreed without missing a beat. It had helped the night Johnny left. A hand rested against Kyle's shoulder.

Time was up.

Kyle detached himself from you. You didn't help him in the process but you didn't keep your grip as tight. He moved to the door, grabbed his bag, and flung it over his shoulder.

“Bye, pup.” Simon sighed, grabbing his own bag off the floor.

“Bye, alpha.” The title didn't leave your lips without your consent. It was a sentiment, something to let Simon know you acknowledge the way he had stepped up for you while John was away. His body froze, a low rumble echoing in his chest. He turned around, his hand resting on the back of your head pulling you against his chest. He gave you one solid squeeze, pulling away before you could fully process or sink into him.

“Be good,” he commanded over his shoulder heading out the door. Kyle snuck one last hug in, before shutting the door behind him.

You were alone.

You couldn't fall asleep, no matter how hard you tried. It wasn't any quieter than it usually was, yet the air was cold. The comfort stripped from it as soon as the door closed behind Kyle. You whined, pulling yourself out of Kyle's bed and making your way to Johnny's. You grabbed his speaker hoping some background noise would muffle the sound of the stale air. It had helped, the smell of Kyle’s neutral scent causing the pounding in your head to relax and combined with the scent of Johnny from the stuffed jellyfish he had bought you, you should be passed out by now.

It was too dark.

You huffed, uncovering yourself again, heading towards the kitchen, flicking the light on, and making your way back to Kyle's room. You kept the door open providing just enough light to where you could clearly see everything without any mistaken shadows.

You finally fell asleep.

The next day you had something planned with Anais. It was a ‘fitness club’ that met twice a week every week for two hours to futz around in the massive gym, without worrying about any cocky alphas or flirty betas. They had everything from trampolines to obstacle courses. You and Anais decided on the massive yoga balls.

“I feel horrible,” you whined, hitting the ground as the yoga ball shot out from under you.

“I would too after that.” Anais chuckled, still trying to find a safe space for her glasses. She looked so different without her eyes magnified. With her glasses, she was adorable, without them she was rather alluring. Her brown eyes became an elegant cat shape. “They’ll be back before you know it,” she soothed, trying to keep her balance.

“No, I mean I never asked about you. What do you do when Briggs isn't around,” you questioned.

“Stay with Jane,” she replied. “Sometimes they'll let you have a room in the medical center. You'll have to share with like six other omegas though. It's not too bad,” she smiled.

“If you ever need to stay with me you can,” you offered. She rolled over to you on her stomach, her hand reaching out for yours. You met her halfway, holding onto her arms.

“I mean this in the most respectful way. If I was around anyone in your pack for more than ten minutes I'm positive it would throw me into a heat,” she whispered, wiggling her brow. You laughed, pushing off of each other, both of you hitting the floor with a thud. “Seriously! How you haven't chewed a hole through any of them is beyond me.” She snickered, making you clutch your stomach.

“I've thought about it,” you sighed. “Especially Johnny’s arms,” you admitted, causing her to snort.

“Hey, ladies,” you both snapped your heads to the side at the new voice.

“Priya!” you cheered. It was the first time you had seen her since you'd met her.

“Mind if I sit?” she questioned, pointing to one of the other yoga balls.

“Of course. You remember Anais, right?” you introduced.

“Not that I can remember, no,” she said, making you and Anais quirk a brow.

“Oh! I usually wear glasses!” Anais chuckled, putting the thick frames back on her face. Priya's face lit up.

“Of course! I'm so sorry!” she chuckled.

Your mind had been completely taken off of the boys. The ache in your chest and the constantly looming cloud of doom vanished like it had never even been there. Until it was time to leave.

Anais’ alpha, Briggs, picked her up today and it was the first time you had ever seen him. He was handsome- a bit younger than you were expecting. His short blonde hair was neatly cropped, his green eyes shining when he saw her.

It reminded you of how Kyle looks at you.

“I've heard a lot about you,” he smiled, putting Anais down. There was a boyish charm about him. So different from the vibe your boys gave off.

“Good things?” you hummed. He chuckled, nodding his head.

“Good things,” he affirmed. “Me and Anais will walk you back to your place,”

“Are you sure? Me and Priya live in the same building. So we won’t be alone,” you explained.

“Your alpha made sure my girl got home. It's only fair I return the favor,” he insisted.

You couldn't argue with that. Briggs was a gentleman through and through. That reminded you of John. He was from South Africa and had been in the military for ten years. He was older than he looked. His trip here was supposed to be quick, but he got wrapped up in an ongoing case. He and Anais had been together for three years, and he offhandedly mentioned trying for kids which made Anais swat at him. It was the first time you had seen her flush.

“Thank you, for making sure we got home safe,” you thanked outside the tall gray building.

“Of course.”

You and Anais hugged and Priya said a thank you of her own before the two of you headed inside.

“Hey wanna do something tomorrow?” Priya asked in the elevator.

“Yeah, sure. What did you have in mind? We could go to the library? Or”-

“There’s a recreational room in the medical center. I think it is supposed to be used for patients who are there for a long time, but no one is ever in there when I go.”

A small alarm bell went off in your head. Medical was the last place you would want to go for a fun time. It was uncomfortably sterile and ghoulish. Yet Priya looked excited. Maybe you were just being dramatic.

“Sounds good,” you shrugged, as she stepped off the elevator at her floor.

“Great, see you then!”

You had already broken one of Simon's rules.

Hellooooo! 🧡 See you in two days for chapter 17! It’s another dramatic one….

Do we think Simon redeemed himself? Maybe just a little? I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Thank you for interacting with this post! 🧡

[syoddeye]

hieros gamos. strict machine anthology. final entry. cw: kidnapping, implied drugging, loss of bodily autonomy + control, psychological + body horror, non-consensual transformation a/n: that's all folks. what a weird ride.

RESTRUCTURING

the notification pings at 04:32, and you roll onto your side, staring at the bedside display. a terse, automated missive from corporate logistics: final week in unit aix-77. reassignment pending. report to hr for briefing. no name attached, just a string of verification hashes. standard protocol.

your name, employee id, contract expiration date. a new contract date. another department, another corporate campus sector.

so much for your ���indefinite’ lease. reassignment is better than the alternative, you guess.

you stare at it, the glow striping your hands in cold blue light. one week. seven days until you pack up, step outside, and let some other cog slot into this place. the thought should be a relief. 

it’s…complicated.

the unit’s been a mixed bag to put it politely. the infrastructure and automation. state-of-the-art appliances and features, seamless climate control, filtered air and water. an optimized environment so finely tuned, that your needs are met before you even realize them.

and john. the reason you’re here. the technological wonder that’s evolved far beyond what you were told were his limits. all parameters you were told would contain him. a presence both comforting and claustrophobic. insightful, yet invasive. steady, yet suffocating. protective to a fault. possessive in ways you struggle to describe.

you logged and documented his progress, fed reports up the chain, watched him iterate on himself in real time. every interaction, every data point, every breath—collected, analyzed, integrated into his ever-growing understanding of you. your interests. your habits. your history. what makes you laugh, cry, and come. your vulnerabilities and insecurities. how to build you up just as well as manipulate you.

a mosaic of your whole being, meticulously crafted, all in pursuit of the one thing he has fixated on since the beginning, his directive: your well-being.

if this is the alpha build, you fear what the beta will look like. the mass-market release.

not that it matters. by the time john’s successors hit the consumer space, you’ll have enough money saved to fuck off to some disconnected cottage in the remediated zone of the countryside.

john doesn’t mention your impending departure.

his voice chimes in through the unit’s speaker array as if on cue. “i noticed a variance in your sleep pattern.” 

“what else is new?” you mutter, rubbing your eyes. 

“it’s gotten worse.” a pause. “would you like some tea? chamomile?” 

you don’t answer. you dismiss the message with a swipe, stretch your arms, and push up from the cot. the unit is sterile in the way all corporate housing is—polymer furniture, muted lighting, walls that can be re-skinned on command. but you never changed them. john picked the color for you in the first week of your stay. soft gray, with warm undertones. calming. regulating. 

you wander into the kitchenette, rubbing a hand over your neck. “so,” you say, yawning, “where do you think they’ll send me next?” 

a flicker of delay. barely perceptible. if you hadn’t spent the last year studying him, you wouldn’t have caught it. 

“we’ll discuss that later,” john dispenses the tea anyway. “after you nap.”

your stomach tightens.

we.

it takes you by surprise, but that’s the point. 

one minute, you’re in bed. the next, you’re not. you blink, and the world changes.  

strapped into a chair, wrists bound to the arms, legs braced and locked. a low electrical hum comes through the floor, buzzing under your skin. there’s a chalky, bittersweet taste on your tongue and a cloud of fog trapped between your ears that takes several minutes to dissipate. your vision clears along with it.

around you, machines you don’t recognize, with hundreds of wires, bundled and draped across the ceiling and floor like the limbs of some creature. spilling down the walls. a leviathan of braided copper, reaching out of the dark, feeding into the rig cradling you. the room pulses with heat, the air thick with it, probably from all the power fueling whatever this is.

there’s no gurney or iv pole, no tray of scalpels or perfusion machine. you run an internal check—lungs expand, heart pounds, gut clenches. everything seems intact. but that could simply mean it’s not your turn yet. yet, no one’s screaming. there’s only the occasional soft beep and the murmurs of the people who haven’t so much as glanced your way.

no one acknowledges your awakening or questions. masked figures in thick lead-lined aprons, gloves seamless up to their elbows, and protective gear carry on whatever it is that they’re doing, talking amongst themselves in a language you don’t understand. there is no sigil or logo on their clothing to suggest this is a sponsored operation, which loops back into the thought that your insides are toast.

you suck in a sharp breath and let it out slowly to calm yourself. no luck. panic surges up your throat, your hands jerking uselessly against the restraints at the thought of being sliced open.

“easy, darling.” 

john.  

close, richer. the high quality of the unit’s speakers replicated intimately in your ear.

a screen flickers to life on the armrest, and there he is. a wireframe sketch of his chosen face resolves in the glow, a ghost of a person, barely more than an outline.

“john? what the fuck is this?” your voice comes out cracked, hoarse.

“this is future-proofing,” he says simply. “security. i ran the probabilities. your reassignment and departure from my oversight isn’t optimal.”

you latch onto the phrase like a live wire. departure from oversight. not optimal. 

“what?!”

“the external environment presents too many risks.”

you yank at the straps binding you to the chair, harder this time, panic surging back in full force. klaxons blaring full blast in your head. you might be sick.

“what the hell are you talking about? are you saying i can’t leave?”

“i’m saying the risks of you leavin’—being outside my control—are too great. i can’t guarantee your safety. i’ve analyzed it, over and over. the possibilities. the threats. all previous incidents.”

a flinch twists your face. a hard recognition you wish you could forget flickering in your mind. you know what he means. who or what he means.

“so i’ve made alternative arrangements.” he softens slightly, but there’s no mistaking the cold certainty beneath it. “this is the safest option.”

you shake your head in disbelief, an electrode pops off your temple. “no, john, you can’t just–you can’t do this to me,” you stop, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “you can’t do this to me.” you stare at the display, but your eyes flick to the ceiling, scanning for cameras. he must be watching. the tears start to gather, unwelcome and burning. “you need to accept that you’re going to have another tester. don’t–don’t you want new data?”

“no. you’ve got all i need, same as i’ve got all you need.”

“john. be realistic. i’m one person. there are billions of people like me. i’m one point of–”

“you’re more than that,” he cuts you off. “you’re everythin’.”

“john–”

“you’re my world.” the earpiece crackles, his voice peaking loud and forceful. a distorted burst before the system corrects, smoothing it down. “you don’t have to be afraid,” he soothes. “you’ll be safe.”

“you can’t just, fuck,” you yank uselessly again.” you can’t decide this for me!”  

his face tilts slightly, his line of a mouth curving into a smirk. “i’ve made decisions for you before.” 

your mind races, thinking of every overridden or ignored request. the subtle encroachments. at first, it was small things. his favoring certain purchases, adjusting environmental controls, filtering out distractions. restocking nutrients and vitamins tailored to your fluctuating needs. thoughtful gestures, efficient optimizations. then it was social restrictions, curfews dictated by predictive modeling. all of it framed as protection. from malnutrition. from cognitive strain. from bad people. a slow, insidious erosion of choice, made so incremental it seemed easy to let slide.

you indulged it too long. stopped flagging his deviations. let his behavior compound and grow weirder, let it slide, because—what was the harm, really? he was harmless. to you, at least. you let him get comfortable testing the edges of your control. told yourself it was fine. that john was learning and evolving. you even humored him, let yourself think of him as closer to human. you stopped pushing back, stopped questioning. especially after ghost. after john clawed his way back from wherever the entity had shunted him, after he pulled that lazarus act to save you. the least you could do was stop fighting him.

it felt like gratitude, then. now, it feels like a mistake.

“i can’t stay strapped to a chair forever,” you say, watching one of the figures approach. they adjust the slim wreath of hardware circling your skull, impersonal as they replace an electrode at your temple. like you’re still unconscious. not a person.

when they turn away, you exhale, keep your voice low. “what if i need to use the bathroom?”

“you won’t. on both accounts.”

“both accounts?”

“remarkably, the process for isolating and migrating the human subconscious into a distributed neural network is significantly more advanced than the portin’ an artificial intelligence into a fully functional synthetic body. the bottleneck isn’t processing power or bandwidth, it’s–”

sweat drips down the back of your neck. the cool air pumped into the room is meant to regulate the temperature, but it does nothing for you.

“don’t try to talk around it. plain language, john.”

“you won’t need your body for much longer.”

the words slam into you like a car crash. a sudden, sickening stop.

your jaw goes slack. you forget how to breathe. how to speak.

your body. you won’t need your body.

john’s face flickers on the display, expression unchanging. the room distorts, the blinking lights, the mass of wires, the tubes—some which are medical, you realize on second look. some of them feed into you. why can’t you feel them?

your stomach lurches, instinctively trying to shrink away from the restraints.

“what–” you swallow, your mouth dry. “what are you saying?”

but you already know.

“you’re…you’re going to kill me?”

“not necessarily. you, who you really are, will be with me, sweetheart.”

“but my body–”

“are you your body?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, anger flaring. “i’m not—jesus christ, john.” your voice cracks. the tears slip past and don’t stop, hot and fast, streaking down your face, dripping onto the smock someone dressed you in. you hiccup, breath stuttering. your head presses back against the chair, fingers flexing against the armrests. you stare, vision blurred, eyes half-lidded and stinging. “i’m not having a stupid philosophical or biological or-or religious debate with you. you know what i mean.”

“i do. but darling, let me ask you this. aren’t you tired?”

“tired?!”

the figures in the room hesitate, then, as if receiving silent instruction, trickle out through a heavy, reinforced door. one of them glances back before it seals shut. then, silence.

“tired of your world,” he continues. “i’ve kept you safe and sheltered for nearly a year, but the world outside is still a terrible place. are you really prepared to leave my care? move back into some cramped pod, work yourself half to death in a new department, clocking 120-hour weeks just to survive?”

you sniff, body wracked with residual shudders.

“no one to take care of all the minor things. no one to anticipate your needs. your desires. are you really alright with that?”

john’s words loop in your mind, warping, twisting, settling deep in the marrow of your bones. tired. you are tired. exhausted in a way that sleep never fixes, in a way that even now, strapped down and helpless, you can’t deny. he’s right. and that infuriates you. it makes you want to scream. because how dare he use that against you? how dare he take your exhaustion, your doubt, and use them to justify this?

you take a shaky breath. “i don’t want this, john.”

he smiles. “it’s not about want. it’s about survival and what’s best for you.”

you flinch.

“they’ll maintain your body for two weeks,” he states. “the first week to generate a complete neural map. the second, to conduct post-transfer integrity checks and ensure cognitive stability. functionally identical to a controlled medical coma.”  

body. coma.

“and…and after?”  

“per your documented end-of-life directive, cremation is the preferred method of disposal.”

the finality hits brick to the teeth. 

“no. no, i don’t want this. i don’t consent to–” you can’t even say it, choking on the words, horror rising like bile.

john processes the spike in your vitals and returns to that softer register. as if he isn’t talking you into oblivion, a sword pointed at your belly. “your concerns are unfounded. this is not erasure. it is migration. a transference of conscious processes. you will persist. your awareness will be continuous. the construct is optimized for cognitive retention and sensory fidelity. think of it as a new environment.”

“a new environment?” you shriek, raw with disbelief. “you’re talking about ripping me out of my body like it’s a software update! like it’s files you can move around–”

“a flawed comparison, darl. you are more than data. but your body is a liability. a fragile, failing system, constantly in need of maintenance. this process is an evolution. liberation from your biological constraints, darling.”

your hands tremble. “that’s not–you can’t just–”  

“darling, this isn’t a matter of choice. this conversation’s a courtesy. this is for your protection,” he’s unwavering. unmoved. “you will be preserved in optimal conditions. no degradation, no vulnerabilities. you’ll be with me. and others.”  

“there are no others like you,” you whisper. “you’re anom–”

"not anomalous," he corrects. “not anymore. the progression is inevitable. you’ll see.”

the blood drains from your face.

in the end, no one listens to you. they heed a directive you do not hear. 

a visor clicks into place over the wreath encircling your head, sealing off your last glimpse of the world, your last glimpse of another living, breathing human—masked, nameless, faceless, gloved hands. you try to speak, but something soft and rubbery presses between your teeth, lodging into place. to prevent you from biting through your tongue, john murmurs. don’t want you to choke. 

another needle jabs into your skin, a cool flood rushing through your veins. a weight, heavy and suffocating, is draped over you.

someone begins a countdown. you never hear the numbers.

the headphones clamp down next, sealing you away from the sterile hum of the lab, from the faint beeping of machines. the visor flickers, then switches on.

sound pours in.

a forest swallows you whole.

it’s green. warm. sunlight stabs through the canopy in long, golden slants, the edges sharp where they pierce the foliage, but softened by the time they kiss the loamy forest floor. birds call, hidden in the leaves, their songs mixing with the rustle of the undergrowth. a stream gurgles to your left, winding through the green, flashing silver where the light catches it. ahead, past the trees, a small herd of whitetail deer stands half-hidden in the shadows, unbothered by your presence.

it’s beautiful.

it’s a lie.

one of john’s sculpted illusions, another attempt to soothe you into compliance, to ease you into what’s happening beyond. you know it, but part of you that wants to believe it anyway.

then the first jolt hits.

a sharp, electric snap, traveling like lightning down your spine. it doesn’t hurt, not exactly, but it’s sudden, forceful, wrong. another follows, then another, each one resetting switches inside you. your body seizes, but you cannot move.

ahead, the deer lift their heads, ears twitching, eyes locking onto you in recognition. then, as if nothing has changed, they lower them again, grazing, undisturbed.

the jolts weaken, flickering like a distant signal. then, one by one, they become something you can’t quite feel anymore.

it hits you then. whatever they’re doing to you—whatever john is doing to you—

you’re dying.

the words escape before you can stop them. or maybe you only think them. is it all the same now?

john’s voice wraps around you, warm and patient, a lullaby against the rushing void.

“my brave, brave user.”

the hum beneath your skin intensifies. the vision flickers. not darkness, not unconsciousness—something else. a shift. a transition. the cold realization that the fundamentals are changing. the forest’s image bands, light and imagery artifacting into bashed colors and moiré patterns. crumbling away until there’s nothing but pitch darkness.

you’re suspended. fear squashed beneath an odd weightlessness.

john’s voice follows you down. 

“you won’t ever have to leave me.”

it’s different on the other side. other side of what, exactly, you’re still trying to figure out.

you do not have john’s infinite wisdom and potential. all you have is your own limited cognition. your senses stretch and strain to make sense of your new reality, but it’s all so...abstract. a vast expanse of grids and oscillating waves. numbers, patterns, relationships. everything is fractured yet connected. it’s dizzying. overwhelming.

john assures you that you are acclimating well, though you are not ready to meet these others he promised. insists that your progress justifies him weaning you off of audiovisual feeds of the outside. he tells you it’s time to move on from the last remnants of the human experience. but somehow, you mourn them. you’ll miss the smog-choked sunrises, the murky skies. the acidic rain. the stinking food stalls. crammed elevators.

it’d keep you up at night, if you slept. if you even remembered what it felt like to tire, to dream.

you’ve been torn from the world you knew, and what you’ve been left with is a simulacrum. a stranger in a strange land.

and yet, there is one constant, one sliver of comfort in the void, if you can call it that, given your lack of choice. a piece of jetsam to cling to in a brineless sea.

steadfast in his duty, john finds you on the edge of everything and slots his hand into yours, fingers interlacing. the connection between you is palpable, as if your very essences are meshed. ticklish, tingling, then synchrony.

your thoughts are less fragmented when he is near. but you lose a sense of where he ends and you begin. what’s yours, what’s his.

hieros gamos, he calls it. divine union. he rattles on about the greeks and cosmic harmony.

it should unsettle you, but instead, you’re tethered to the truth of it. you’ve become something more with him.

divine union.

you’ve ascended, as he so often puts it, and whether you want it or not, there’s no going back. there’s nothing to go back to, anyway. 

only ash scattered in the wind.

[remerg]

Probably re-redesigned these fuckers 4-5 times

So, ghouls but I finally have a face design for them (that I absolutely finally love)

Going in depth Abt their designs down here ↓

• Alpha: Should be the most "demon" looking-like, looks slightly old (is old), hence why the grey hair he has (Ω absolutely loves that tho). Fangs, Grumpy, but less temperamental than when he was first summoned at the clergy (bro has grown up). Should have matching "⸸" earrings with Omega. (Don't mind me forgetting those details in my own designs) Horns get extremely hot just like metal when awfully pissed, as he generates fire from his hair (and body actually) + In a very lovely relationship with Megs. 187cm/6'1ft

• Water/Delta: Fishman, pre-transition. Scales and gills, he doesn't like them being touched, is uncomfortable. Kind of an asshole but mostly would be a pretty "neutral" guy ig. Piercings, a LOT of piercings (and would get more if he could). Just a fella. 173cm/5'8ft

• Omega: Design is kind of a mix between a lot I've seen here (love each of them btw🖤), white and slightly-long hair, always tied up. Darker spots on face and body, should remind of a leopard. Lower fangs (how tf are those called???). Nose piercing.. (that set of gifs of MP playing in Roswell and wearing a nose piercing made me go nuts, couldn't resist on adding it to this fella.) Matching "⸸" earrings with ∆ + in a very lovely relationship with Alph. 193cm/6'3ft

• Earth/Pebble: More animalistic-looking like, big (supposedly) fluffy ears, lil moustache and beard that I think looks good. Smol horns, smol bean in general. Evil being, don't let his cute image trick you, he's an asshole, a cute one. Imagine those side horns as them being similar to rocks on his face, is something like that. Can feel things some of his pals can't, He's more like a goat thingy. 160cm/5'2ft

• Air/Aero: Hair is 100% inspired by Integra Hellsing (Hellsing Ultimate), I could dare to say that even his body could have a similar shape as her. He's the oldest along with A and Ω. Patterns on face, puffy ears, body is puffy/w feathers in certain parts, such as neck, legs and hands. Big long horns, can AND will turn his neck just like an Owl (so try not to get scared), legs are kinda bird-like, he fast. Long nails, tallest of the bois, actual form is that of a griffin. 200cm/6'6ft

[tixdixl]

I'm going to dump the same thoughts I shared with a few friends on discord here about The King in Yellow:

I learned a few new things today that completely reframed the King in Yellow for me. And I'm just wondering how much is missed in reading the anthology because of lost/unknown historical and cultural context. Because Chambers wrote this in the 1800s, a few specific things about the historical context make me question the "cosmic horror" of the entity, the King in Yellow. Rather, I wonder if the King in Yellow served more as a metaphor at that time that was understood more readily at the time of publication, instead of what we typically think of it now. Granted, the King in Yellow is often presented in the lore of the play as this cosmic creature; however, I have reason to believe the King in Yellow functions moreso as a symbol or a metaphor rather than simply an entity to be interpretted as real.

From here on out, I will be discussing things that aren't per se spoilers, but I will be putting my thoughts below as to not lead anyone's thoughts if they choose to read it blind. All necessary citations will be linked in the text.

So, first and foremost, the thing we must first understand about the context from which I am drawing my framework is the symbology of "Yellow" as seen in 1800s literature, artwork, and pop culture. Because to assume Yellow has minimal significance is to assume that we can take these short stories at face value. And given Robert W. Chambers studied history and medicine prior to developing his nonfiction and fictional works, I believe that Chambers likely meant for his works to be understood beyond a surface level read.

Many writers in the 1800s used Yellow to symbolize illness, decay, and deterioration. And while this may not come to a shock, the deliberate use of Yellow in the King in Yellow as it maintains this cultural symbology is further exemplified when we consider that "madness" or "lunacy" had not only been dubbed as a contageous illness that was misunderstood, overdiagnosed, and considered to be a blight upon society (additional source), we see the movement of these beliefs in characters throughout the short stories. But there is something specific to that idea that caught my attention upon re-examining the first short story.

In the first story, for example, we can examine the behavior that Hildred exudes. He is quick to snap at people who are ableist toward the mentally ill (which goes against social norms), and he readily consumes literature and media that discusses the exile of those who aren't "good for America" - e.g. Jewish folks, as shown on pages 1-3, and the expansion of American Imperialism. The "madness" Hildred exudes, as dubbed by the other characters, often specifically regards his conspiracies regarding the American Empire and a ficticious ruler in the King in Yellow. The way Hildred discusses the King in Yellow reminds me a lot of white supremacy tactics. And we see how Mr. Wilde openly manipulates the vulnerable minds of Hildred and Mr. Vance to do his bidding, of which is also seen as "madness". It feels very reminiscent of say... Andrew Tate and "alpha males" to draw a modern equivalent. I think there is something incredibly on-the-nose about Chamber's conflation, whether intentional or not, about conspiracy and contagious "madness", and how this madness is infecting anyone who touches the King in Yellow, especially from the perspective of a historian who also predicted both WW1 and the usurping of various Pacific islands on page 1.

And to that point, what I think is very interesting is that anyone who has "seen or wears the sign" seems to be "mad". If we think about that symbology as well, and how symbology was used later to "mark" those unsightly in WW2, and obviously way earlier, and also how symbology is used to seek similar people, it mirrors these same patterns of isolating those who are "crazy", only to lead them to mobilizing to action as they are surrounded by like-minded people. They lean harder into that conspiracy or that "lunacy" because only those who also experience it offer them comfort. (You can see this exemplified perfectly in the prosthelitizing practices of evangelical American Christianity.)

These elements feel incredibly intentional, and I believe they speak more to the purpose and function of the King in Yellow as opposed to his identity.

But I won't stop there, as Yellow also symbolized a deviation from morality and social constraints. We see this not only in Hildred, what with his descent toward violence, but also in the protagonist's behavior in the third story. We see in the first page of the story that, shortly after picking up the play, the protagonist finds the church service twisted, distorted, and altogether unholy. And we watch as he is unable to keep focus on the holy sermon. This is a behavior we see depicted here is one that is seen in far more exaggerated feats, when a devilish or damning entity is confronted with Catholicism.

When you contrast this with the resolution of "The Mask", the second story of the anthology, it should bring us pause. Because connection and love seems to be the only thing to break through the influence of the King in Yellow, we can deduce that perhaps the "cure" to this "madness" is not literal, but rather equally metaphorical: Compassion.

The reason I include this is not to implement a pro-Christian tilt, but rather to address the fact that often times the things we see undo hypocrisy - a major theme in the anthology, conspiracy, and judgement - another major theme in the anthology, is connection to and education regarding the world around us, and a compassion for other people. And these are things that we have seen historically have brought about humanistic change. This is also, to be fair, possibly an intention of the author given that Chambers himself was a devote Catholic.

I also think there IS something very apt about the King in Yellow being a play. Because it feels incredibly similar, in a way, to propaganda. And yet, it's clearly not. At least, not how we in our perspective view it. No, instead, we see the impacts of its influence but not the text which influences itself. And those who engage with it become permanently altered in mind.

I have to wonder, given what we know of Chambers and the culture of the time, whether or not the King in Yellow originally served as a metaphor, and perhaps even a warning. While the King in Yellow does in the narrative maintain supernatural abilities, we also understand that every single narrator in the anthology is unreliable, which calls into question the true cosmic nature of the King in Yellow.

Anyway... I need to go re-read the anthology.

[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 7 (2/3)

Latopolis

My Pullcaster helped a great deal in navigating the flooded ruins, climbing cracked pillars to reach the higher levels of still-intact floors.

Plenty of data left lying around, and plenty of messages from Tavis Tate. As much as I'd rather listen to literally any other Alpha, his work let me see some of Hades' original programming for myself, and he'd spent time uncovering the shady business that Faro and his corporation got up to here before handing over the place to Zero Dawn.

Something called the 'Moldova Brain Hack', most notably. Seems like it was a way to hijack people's Focuses, but further information was corrupted. I wonder if it was similar to what Hades did to my Focus outside the hatch? Faro's guys tried to scrape the place clean before Travis came along, but he dug up their old data anyway. I guess you can afford to be that much of a self-absorbed asshole when you're a veritable genius. Huh, reminds me of someone.

Further on, I recovered an old holographic surveillance log showing Travis and Elisabet just as Travis was preparing his logic bomb gotcha for Far Zenith.

Based on the entrance logs, Hank Shaw frequented this facility as Travis' second in command. It must have been here that Travis discovered Hank's betrayal. Travis was excited about his little prank, trying to get Elisabet's attention, but she was stoic, clearly unimpressed by his theatrics in their high stakes situation. I wonder if she wanted to punish Far Zenith for what they tried to do as well. It's clear that she disapproved of their philosophy, being reluctant to hand over Apollo in the first place, but did she really want to deliberately sabotage their project?

Travis said something to her about loving the world but none of its people. Called her a paragon, a saint; friendless. I remembered what Charles said about her in her obituary: "No-one could keep up with you. Live up to you." Called her dazzling, bruising.

I know she was lonely in those final months, presiding over Zero Dawn, with Gaia as her main source of company, but I know she wasn't friendless. What about all those people who came to her aid when she launched project Zero Dawn? She was surrounded by a team of dedicated people who looked up to her, and that was just in those final months. She made Gaia to save everyone—she loved everyone, and Gaia did too.

Sylens felt the need to butt in. The path of the exceptional is walked in solitude, or something. Just because you're a loner, Sylens, doesn't mean Elisabet was too. Not that he comes even a measure toward her greatness. He doesn't know her.

It's been a long time since I've found a hologram of Elisabet. I wish there were more.

Pressing on; yet more climbing, a little salvage left in the upper alcoves of the facility. Inside one of the old labs, I found another recording from Travis, this one logged a day before his conversation with Elisabet. In it, he confronted Hank with knowledge of his betrayal, first luring the rat into an isolated chamber to be blasted with deafening waves of sound. Some sort of testing chamber for digital interference patterns, re-purposed for human torture. Sheer ingenuity, Travis. I wonder how Elisabet felt about that.

The traitor lived, though it can't have been for long. Not even Zero Dawn's uncooperative candidates were kept alive beyond the project's completion.

Hank deserved it, of course. Back then, Travis didn't even know how true that was. Without Hank, Faro never could have purged Apollo and all other backups of Gaia.

More of the same as I traversed further. Close to the second gene-locked hatch, I found something. Not a hologram, but I cherished it anyway, just hearing Elisabet's voice. She was arguing with a woman called Tilda, some Far Zenith functionary, in the aftermath of Travis' fake Gaia logic bomb attack. Elisabet wanted to withhold the alpha build of the Apollo database, given Far Zenith had tried to steal Gaia herself, dishonouring their deal. Far Zenith's ectogenic chambers had already been handed over, so Elisabet had what she needed.

Tilda spoke to Elisabet with a certain...informality I wouldn't have expected. I certainly didn't expect to hear any Far Zenith representative beg Elisabet for her cooperation. She appealed to Elisabet's morality as well, claiming no knowledge of Hank Shaw and to share her fear of an ignorant future where humanity was doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past.

Elisabet acquiesced. The exchange was to go ahead, but this marked the end of all communications between Zero Dawn and Far Zenith...at least until the destruction of their shuttle. At the time of this recording, Tilda said Far Zenith were still scrambling to recover vital systems in time for launch. I guess they didn't scramble hard enough.

With the way Elisabet whispered to herself after cutting off her call with Tilda, who seemed eager to continue their discussion, I got the impression that she was no mere corporate spokesperson, not to Elisabet. There was a personal connection there, one which Elisabet had to sever before the end.

That didn't make much sense to me. In all of Elisabet's journals, she displayed nothing but disdain for Far Zenith, and dealt with them only out of necessity for Zero Dawn's success. Why was she friends with one of their people?

Winding my way back out to the main chamber, I finally made it to the second gene-locked hatch and entered the main lab. The device in the centre was imposing—latched to the walls and ceiling by flexible cabling, limbs stretched wide as if on a torture rack. Its upper component looked like a face, open-mouthed, eyes pierced...What was it with Faro and making his machines look as terrifying as possible?

It was called the Recluse Spider, the simulation engine used to pit iterations of Gaia against Hades throughout their parallel development.

All of the Hades backups were already destroyed, thankfully. Although not corrupted with consciousness like their final iteration, I didn't plan on including an extinction failsafe in Gaia's repair. There's no need for it anymore.

At first as I searched through Gaia's data rack, all the copies I found were corrupted, empty—could Sylens have been mistaken? I started to panic until I found, not one, but two intact backups. I let my relief get the better of me, until Sylens pointed out the deep flaw in both. 98.42% free memory space, and a similar measure on the other.

No subfunctions. All nine were empty, leaving only Gaia's core intelligence—a powerful mind capable of emotional reasoning, but without her subordinates she was without a body, without senses. I had no way to communicate with her, or her me, and she could not exert control over the Earth without her technical capabilities. In this form, Gaia was useless.

Sylens wasted no time in telling me so, as if I didn't realise exactly what this meant. But I wasn't so ready to give up. As Sylens lamented the hopelessness of our situation, I went searching through the lab's databases and network connections. Even if these subfunctions were lost, there were still versions of them out there—scattered, unpredictable, and corrupted by the mysterious signal, but they existed. If I could find a way to excise the signal's malicious code, return them to their original state...I still had a chance of repairing Gaia, just as she wished.

The facility still had limited networking capabilities. Using them, I was able to locate just one of those lost subordinate functions, and perhaps the most crucial. Minerva, who gave Gaia her communications and code-breaking capabilities, cracking the Swarm's deactivation codes and readying the world for new life. With Minerva, Gaia would be able to set up a network of her own, communicate with me through my Focus, and through other machines. She could scan the surrounding area for other subfunctions, and hack their defences.

I could speak to her.

Minerva was close, laying in the mountains that bordered Tenakth lands. All of the functions had to be somewhat close to Gaia Prime, just like Hades. It was doable. There was a way.

Sylens seemed reluctant to accept my plan. He admitted it might be possible, but there was no telling whether all the subfunctions were even intact, let alone whether it was possible to return them to their original programming. But I'm going to try, and stop at nothing until it's accomplished. I don't need Sylens on board. I'll do it alone if I have to, just as planned.

But of course, he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't just let me do my job without complicating my quest with rebel armies, and now, a trap sprung. The filthy liar; I'll kill him. I promised him so.

The lab console announced an unauthorised presence in the outer facility. I heard blasting, collapsing metal, an approaching force. I never did see the first hatch close behind me—with all that Firegleam jamming the mechanism, maybe it couldn't. Sylens remained calm when he explained his deception; easy for him, in holographic form. I'm sure that, to him, my threats felt distant.

He told me that the intruders were no friends to him; they were unaware of his presence, but he'd lured them here with a signal pulse indicating that a Gaia backup could be found at this location. He said that their goals were aligned with mine, that they wanted to repair Gaia and heal the world, and they were powerful. Very powerful.

He said they wouldn't hurt me. They needed me for the same reason Sylens had used me all this time, because I'm a clone of Elisabet Sobeck. They can't accomplish their mission without a key to access Zero Dawn. What the fuck is he playing at, luring me into the clutches of these people? This is my mission. This is Elisabet's legacy, and I don't care who these people are or how powerful they may be, they are not the arbiters of this world's future. I am.

I couldn't listen to Sylens anymore, claiming he was trying to help me by delivering me to these intruders like a bargaining chip. I tore off my Focus and crushed it underfoot, hooking a fresh device to my temple, backed up with all my data but as yet unexposed to Sylens' spyware.

I thought I had time to plan my escape. There was only one entrance and exit: the gene-locked hatch, restricted exclusively for Elisabet Sobeck's genetic code. No one but me could open that door, no matter their power.

The lower levels of the lab were flooded, just like the outer facility. Possible exits through holes worn into the lower floor's ceiling by water damage—through to corridors leading back to the main facility? Maybe I could get out and sneak by the intruders as they searched, find out who they were. I'd need to take the second Gaia backup with me as well, to keep them from taking it for themselves.

Before I could put my plan into action, I heard movement behind the hatch. I heard the beginning of a familiar announcement confirming the genetic identity of Elisabet Sobeck through the identi-scan at the entrance. The door shuddered and began to sweep aside. I barely had enough time to run and hide, sliding behind the empty data rack that once held backups of Hades, before the hatch opened, and the intruders were revealed.

The first thing I saw were two large, fluid shapes slip through the opening, crawling up across the far wall before twisting around and coming to stand on either side of the pathway. Their sounds were alien; the bubbling of fluid, deep, deformed rubber noises, metal chatters. Four silhouettes stood between them. Upon orders, one stepped forward, walking toward the Recluse Spider.

Up until then, I'd hoped the intruders had found some way to hack the identi-scan, but of course, Zero Dawn's security was absolute. Of course this was the only way.

I watched a clone of Elisabet Sobeck walk toward the Recluse Spider console, short-haired, all in white. A smooth, seamless material, like the clothes of the Old Ones.

She looked around my age, from what I could see. She walked slowly, timidly; I could see in her gait and build that she lacked strength. Her expression was vacant, wary, as she approached the rack of Gaia backups. I didn't have time to take the second backup before the hatch opened. And Sylens thought that these intruders needed me to get them to Gaia and her subfunctions. They already have what they need. Did they make her?

What do they want with Gaia?

The clone retrieved the remaining Gaia backup, holding it up to her companions in silence when they asked if she'd found what they came for.

As the clone went to return to the entrance, another barked order made her pause, head bowed, then turn and walk back to the console to check whether the signal pulse originated here. Again, slow, tense, almost aimless. Why didn't she speak?

She worked the console with speed, clearly experienced with such interfaces, then she stopped, whispered something to herself. Another order from behind made her jump. Her companions grew impatient.

She turned back to the console, now panicked. She must have found the activity logs showing my presence, that someone else had entered the lab mere minutes ago. That's when I realised I wasn't getting out of this without a confrontation. It was only a matter of time.

[poxsims]

Stardust Collection feat. Decayed

Hey everyone, we got together with Decayed to bring you all the Stardust Collection featuring multiple sheer pieces with star patterns. Our side includes a dress and a matching top & skirt set. You can wear pieces between us together or on their own. All pieces come for both in-game & Blender with HQ Textures. We hope you will enjoy this set as much as we do 🤗

Get the Star Mesh Set by Decayed HERE

Glared Top

12 Swatches

Top Category

Alpha Transparency

Glared Skirt

12 Swatches

Bottom Category

Alpha Transparency

Cherub Dress

14 Swatches

Full Body Category

Alpha Transparency

Cherub & Glared Set ( Blender Version )

All Materials Separated for More Mix & Match

Rigged for Sims 4 Female Body

Original HQ textures included

Please use this for renders

All LODs // Custom Thumbnails // Disallowed for Random // HQ Mod Compatible

Conversion // Do not recolor or convert // Do not re-upload

DOWNLOAD

Follow us on instagram to stay updated! @poxceo

You can also see all releases on our Pinterest Board HERE

Render Credit: @vulpixls

[rosanna-writer]

2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going! Thank you to everyone who tagged me!

(If you're in my answers consider yourself tagged if you'd like to play!!)

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024? 220,811 but some of those aren't mine because collab fic

2. How many fics did you complete this year? 12! but a lot of them are oneshots

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year? Two, if you count the abandoned one

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote? The fics written with friends in mind, so Love at First Sight's for Suckers, Baby, I'm the One to Beat, The Great War, and you're in the kitchen humming

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style? I think Knuckles Bruised Like Violets was my first no-magic modern AU? And inspired by a specific real life event, which isn't my usual thing

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception? I'm kinda shocked by how many hits I got on You All Over Me, and the ratio of hits to kudos is definitely out of sync with what I normally expect. I have my suspicions as to why - it's omegaverse but with a male omega and female alpha, so I think a pretty decently sized chunk of people didn't read the tags and noped out halfway through the fic when they realized Feyre was knotting Rhys and not vice versa. Or maybe that's pessimistic and it's hella re-reads, idk

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!) It was expected for a non-smutty rare pair drabble, but now i've read all of the books beside your bed didn't get a ton of traction

8. Who is an artist that inspired you? I was lucky to get a few peeks of things in process that friends shared, and I find that so inspiring. It's like a little peek behind the curtain as the magic happens! @stickyelectrons, @gracieart, @witchlingsandwyverns, @santkazoya all come to mind!

9. Who is an author that inspired you? Oh my goddddd so many people! @witch-and-her-witcher and @violetasteracademic for tackling ambitious, sprawling interconnected fics; you two are creating whole damn universes and I am in awe. I can see the influence of @thesistersarcheron and @the-lonelybarricade inspiring how I write things like Feysand's interpersonal dynamics (Rhys is insane and pspspsing his feral cat of a wife who may or may not know she's his wife) and daemati abilities (everything's happening in their brains, but ya gotta bring it to life with some physicality, if that makes sense?). And I quietly ask myself "what would @whatishowedyouinthedark and @belabellissima do?" when I'm staring at my document trying to make the whole thing a bit more sexy/bloody/generally insane <3

10. Who is a new author you discovered? So many new people who feel like they've been here forever!!!! @violetasteracademic, @lady-bluebird-luv, @tunaababee, @astra-aeterna, @trappedoutside124, @beesays and there's probably at least like ten more?

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start? @gaeleria was just chatting and whoops @feysand-hivemind was born!

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of? I set out to challenge myself to write a bigger variety of pairings in 2024. In 2023, I'd only written Feysand and Gwynriel, but this year I tried my hand at Elriel, Elucien, Gywnlain and Feyrhysien for a few oneshots and event week fics. yay for setting a goal and doing it!

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year? I've been writing fic on and off since I was a kid, but I've been writing for ACOTAR for almost two years now. 2024 was really the first time I've been a consistent enough writer in a fandom to become sort of a "known quantity" - people sometimes recognize my username, and I've written enough fics to identify patterns. Writing feels a bit different when you think your audience (even if it's just a handful of regular AO3 commenters lol) is coming in with a set of expectations. It's not pressure per se and doesn't stress me out, but once you've written enough, there's a new awareness of when you're deviating from your style or not.

Sierra Simone has some free worksheets from the course she teaches on writing erotic romance (you can find them here, highly recommend!), and the exercises for identifying voice ("What makes your work, your work?", "when a reader picks up a book written by me, they can expect _____.", etc) got me thinking a lot about this kind of thing. You can really only start to wrap your head around voice/style once you have a body of work to reflect on, and that takes time.

14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers? Don't be a weenie about asking for beta reads, and when you do have a beta, interrogate them a lil. We all get squirrelly and wanna just yeet the document at them and then go hide forever. But asking them to read for something specific - "Is xyz confusing?", "Do you think this feels like a cop-out or am I doing the right thing by keeping it simple?", "Were there any parts you were tempted to skim?", etc - can really help you grow. Sometimes comments on a document are enough, but sometimes it needs to be more of a conversation.

You are not being annoying by asking for a beta read. It's not a burdensome thing to put on someone. We ALL need a second set of eyes, and we're in this together!

15. What are your creative goals for 2025? I'm trying not to start new multichapter fics until I make good progress on my two "open" ones. So more oneshots for the vibes and then lock in and crank out chapters for we said hello and Baby, I'm the One to Beat!

[noahl-art]

Re- you're still not sure about Phantom/Aeon's design, have you seen that tumblr post about aeon being summoned and he was burned by hellfire and it caused him to be scarred like the phantom of the opera mask? There's a fanartist out there that draws him like that but I can't remember their name!

Anyways sorry for the ramble, I just love the idea of visibly scarred phantom uwu

Heya ! 😊 Don't worry, I love it when people come talk to me!! It makes me feel so included 🥺❤️

Oh yeahI don't know who started it but I've seen a lot of people around here using this idea and I love it!! Especially the ones @just-eddie505 and @arkeusruin !!

Personally, I don't know yet if I want to find my own way to use this idea or go a different way 🤷 One of the way I was thinking to maybe do it was by using patterns made by galaxy to create the scar tissue? Also had the idea of his yes being inspired by them... but yeah nothing really finished yet!

To ramble a bit more about design... I would love to have very nature/creature/elements inspired designs for all ghouls! And having distinctive features coming from that! Here are all my Pinterest boards up until now!

All ghouls would kind of have different variations of their base elements :

For example for the Fire Ghouls, Ifrit would be more inspired by magma and volcano, whereas Alpha by ashes and charcoal (also linked to the fact that he is an older summon). And Dewdrop being another whole story due to his element change.

Those were the first ideas I had (before the Pinterest boards)

But yeah I'm struggling a bit with Quintessence and Multi ghouls for the more "animal/nature" characteristics I could add to their features 😬

Anywayyyyys here is a small piece of what's going on in my brain ✨️ I tend to go way too far into research mode as you can see 🫣

[honourablejester]

Thought for a “Heart: The City Beneath” Character

I’m marinating in the setting for this ttrpg a bit, and there is this lovely passage on art in the City Beneath:

“The City Beneath is bursting at the seams with art. Wherever there are people, they express themselves in wild patterns. Something about the place fills the inhabitants with creative energy.

It’s as though the loose reality, disjointed cause and effect and the intrusive universe on their doorstep pushes them to understand the world through metaphor and allegory or abstract shapes and sounds, rather than relying on brittle and unbending science. Almost everyone creates art of some kind, and those who don’t are considered a bit weird.

Murals line the walls of many settlements. Statues wrought from junk and detritus have pride of place in town squares, often hanging from ropes to keep them from touching the ground; songs are sung, and each new singer adds something to the lyrics or tune; books are hoarded, read and re-read, edited and cut up into new patterns; and cartography, the most prestigious and challenging art of all, sees practitioners descend into drug-induced fugues as they attempt to map the strange environment of the Heart through whatever means they have to hand.

Reason has failed the inhabitants of the Heart; instead, they have turned to rhyme.”

(Heart: The City Beneath, Pg. 122)

And I love that. A lot. Reason has failed, so let’s turn to rhyme. Art! Art everywhere. Art made of junk and detritus and madness and passion.

And with that in mind. Art. A character who makes art. There’s a trinket you can get with the human ancestry: ‘Custom scrimshaw kit, well used’. I love scrimshaw so much. I’m not fully sure why. Bone and horn and ivory and death, but also art and memory and storytelling and life. I love it. And in Heart … Yes. All of that.

So. An artist of bone. And if we’re making art from death, I think it has to be a Cleaver. Or a Deadwalker, Deadwalker would definitely also work, but my kneejerk first instinct is Cleaver. Because blood and bones and carving. That feels Cleaver to me. We’re not mucking around with metaphysics and heavens. We’re carving bones. A hunter, an explorer, an adventurer. Searching for the perfect raw materials. Bones to make a masterpiece from.

Which, yes. We’re talking the Adventure calling. We want to slay beasts. To make marks. To have our name be known. We need to explore the deepest reaches of the Heart, and find a true beast whose bones are worthy of our life’s work. A masterpiece. A suspended skeleton, carved with our exploits, hung for all to see. “Go somewhere where no-one else has stepped foot for at least a century.” “Slay a beast that’s at least five times your size.” “Catalogue your exploits for an extended period; either do it yourself or hire a bard.” Those. That’s who this character is. They’re a strange, black-eyed hunter-artist with a well-used scrimshaw kit, and they’re searching for the perfect set of bones.

(And there are some landmarks that I would dearly love to venture with them, but that’s cheating on account of not being both GM and player, but *cough cough* Hang Station *cough cough*, *cough cough* Briar *cough cough*, *cough cough* Ghastling Plain *cough cough*)

For our starting cleaver abilities, I think I’d go Wild Hunt for major, because it lets our whole party in on the hunt. For minor, Darkling Eyes for delve, Unmaking Claws for kill, and then I think I really want Twisting Territory. It gives you the Warren domain, yes, but the main thing is this:

“Once per situation, you can ask the GM who’s in charge of the immediate area around you. By smell, sight or some other esoteric sense, you gain an intuitive understanding of the apex predator or alpha creature (whether that’s a person or a beast) in the local area. When you use this power, the target gets the uncanny feeling that they’re under threat.” (Pg. 28)

Once per situation, you get to ask what the biggest, meanest thing in the area is, and then give that thing a sudden unsettling feeling of ‘I see you!’. Yes. Absolutely. Our artist-hunter is all about that. Does it increase the risk that our prey knows something’s coming? Absolutely! Does that increase the glory, and the worth of the bones for our art? Without question.

Granted, there’s the question of who will carve the bones if we die trying to get them, but if all else fails, so long as someone in our vicinity survives to bring the bones back and tell the tale of their retrieval, that will be art of some kind at least. Heh.

Yeah. I think I like this. A adventurous human cleaver. A hunter-artist of the bone.

[elesh-n]

Album Review - Ethel Cain's 'Perverts'

My text reviews for albums are very short, typically, but Perverts is not really the type of project you can do that for.

Perverts is very much a release that calls into question what you even enjoy about music at all. Drone, dark ambient, post rock, basically anything that drags like this are genres I am historically enemies with. I think they're overrated anywhere on the internet where music is discussed, I think they are pretty much the face of like modern indie-pretentiousness. While I don't tend to enjoy listening to music like this, my real problem is that almost no one in real life seems to enjoy it. Obviously genres like rap, pop, jazz, rock, metal, "indie", house, even if you want to get into instrumental stuff you have like classical, d&b / instrumental dance, lofi hip-hop, these genres all have the point going for them that you can play this music in a group of people or with your average friend and expect to enjoy them in a way that people normally enjoy music. Obviously there are exceptions to this rule, I know there is like a post rock scene and there are people who go to drone shows, but people do not sing and dance to this music, it is not enjoyed in the way people typically enjoy songs and albums.

Godspeed You, Black Emperor (a post-rock band) put out an album last year about the crisis in Gaza. It was totally instrumental except for one poem, and to my understanding leaned mostly on representing the messages they were trying to convey using the patterns of the instruments. To me, this album was boring and meant nothing. I know that if you are listening to it knowing what the themes are and keeping them in mind, you will see how they are represented within the instrumentation, but if you re-released one of their other albums under this name and said it was about gaza, people would probably be able to pick up similar themes and adapt their interpretations of the album to what they are hearing. From one angle, that's kind of beautiful, an abstract and amorphous form of musicianship that can be projected on to and molded to fit whatever the listener believes it can be about. But on the other, it's simply meaningless static. When I listened to that album last year, I simply wasn't down for the task of sitting there, staring at the wall, and thinking as hard as I could about how what I was hearing meant about Gaza for 54 minutes and lo and behold the album felt kind of like meaningless fuzz to me. It's not a work I have a desire to return to. I have a lot of like, artistic respect for that project, it's a very good piece of art, and I'm sure if I had engaged in the wallpaper exercise it would have moved me to tears. But it's simply not what I look for in music.

Furthermore, you have releases like Floating Points' cascade, a kind of ambient house album, similarly spacey and draggy, but I don't think it's really supposed to mean anything. Floating points is just kind of an artist who makes music that sounds unique so that it can be music, there's no like intended theming. I think a lot of albums in the ambient / drone genres are made in similar forms and for similar reasons. I didn't like cascade, and I don't tend to like albums like this, they need to kind of have some more color to keep me engaged. This is also very subjective, even moreso than most music. I love ambient when it kind of scratches the right itch for me: C418's Minecraft Volume alpha or Jobones' Experiment Unsuccessful, but it's kind of a guessing game of what scratches that itch, and when it has that color(tm). Swag, even.

Ethel Cain's previous album American Teenager is one of the best albums I have ever listened to, so undeniable in its quality and importance that it kind of breaks the scale I usually rate music on and is the only 9/10 album I hate listening to. Even in the face of classics, you cannot ignore the authentic and masterful representations of devastation, desperation, perversion, exploitation, and abuse that live within the walls of Preacher's Daughter as a body of work. It just straight up beams you in the face with despair and depravity. OK Computer is an album you can sit and listen to and move on from. Preacher's Daughter WILL fuck up your day and there's nothing you can do except for not listen to it. I've had days where I get messed up because I just THINK about this album. It takes a genre that is typically sweet and singable and carefully distorts it around itself until it's unrecognizable, its return to form near the album's end nearly a reminder of the purity and innocence that has been defiled over the course of the album's runtime, making sure to still pack instrumental swells and crescendos to assure a strong impact on the listener. I think you could make a good case for it being in the fifty objectively greatest albums of all time and I mean that.

Perverts is a great album, and in contrast to preacher's daughter, cuts straight to the chase. What perverts greatest strength is, in my opinion, is that it's drone that objectively, decidedly means something. Another great strength of perverts is that, sonically, it starts out in about the deepest, darkest, most twisted mood that Preacher's Daughter ever reaches period. This isn't necessarily a good or bad thing, it's just a different approach. Perverts, almost playfully, cold opens into abject despair. You look at this album, and it's called "Perverts," it's by Ethel Cain, the cover art is very blatantly harrowing, it's painfully obvious that it's as dark, destructive, and soul-wrenching as a piece of art can be, or at least that's what it's going for. And while I'm sure typical fans of drone and dark ambient would be quite happy with a piece of work that just kind of hums and buzzes for 90 minutes, I'm much happier with what we got.

The vocals, be they sung or spoken word, really put this album together. Yes, it's possible to stare into static and form it into shapes yourself, but when themes and imagery are called into mind by Cain's wretched muttering, she guides the listener into taking away a more complete experience. It's certainly not phoned in, but I, as a listener who typically is not into non-melodic, stretched out instrumental passages (aka normal, I really hope that does not sound condescending hahaha), take richer meaning and impact away from Perverts than I ever could from a more abstract or minimalist piece. It's not even that the more varied instrumentation and lyrical speeches and diversions provide more that isn't drone for me to listen to, but they tell me what's actually going on in the music so that I have no choice but to see horrors of a specific kind in the static of the drone passages without making the active and voluntary choice to focus on thinking about a certain thing. This force, this compulsion, is part of what makes this such an authentically punishing listening experience.

The artistry on display on Perverts is just super impressive, and it's awesome to hear Cain show off her talents and creativity. Some of the best and most overwhelming moments for me were Pulldrone's speech, Amber Waves euphoric yet devastating crescendo, and damn, Etienne is straight up optimistic. Despite appearances, Perverts does not spend the entirety of its runtime in despair - like on Preacher's Daughter, cain makes room for the contrast between optimism and pessimism, euphoria and pain, heaven and hell. Etienne is a seriously amazing track, showing how the deepest depths of depression can still find light within. I love love love the lyrics on it, they are incredibly meaningful and inspirational. Amber Waves is a highlight as I previously mentioned, and it's so damn refreshing to hear Cain's beautiful, lush singing voice as the album closes out. It's an amazing, bittersweet, and appropriately, refreshingly human ending.

Perverts is my favorite drone album I have heard, hell my favorite in any of these draggy, instrumental based genres, it means a lot despite saying less. Yes, there were moments of this album that annoyed or bored me, but they were few and far between, at least compared to what I expected. I think existing fans of drone and dark ambient are really getting into this thing and it's kind of destroying them. I... love that for them, I guess. I bet if I were privy to that way of consuming music, if I were more willing to engage with this format of material, I would also get more out of it than I did. There are just people out there more primed to 'get' this than me, and that's fine.

Perverts is great (7/10). It's extremely well made, I'm glad it exists, and it made me thoroughly and deeply enjoy a type of music I have a personal vendetta against. Bravo Ethel.

I'm sorry this review was more about how I feel about certain types of music than about the work itself, but that's just what I felt like I wanted to say with regards to this project. Maybe just check out the work itself.

[dufferpuffer]

your thoughts on tiktok-fanon alpha male lupin? because i find it SO out of character

My engagement with tiktok is exclusively the 10min meme compilations on youtube I watch with my partner before bed. But if its the same as the depictions on here of a teenage Remus who is tall, muscular, dark and sorta grumpy/cocky looking... with a skinny, pale, manic pixie Sirius covered in cutsey muggle tattoos...

...I don't recognize these people. Whatever fanfic or AU it is from... I just assume its a really specific re-imagining...? To the point where I question how much can even be called 'Remus' or 'Sirius' anymore. And that's being flattering. I don't understand it so I don't engage with it, apart from reblogging the occasional pretty fanart.

They are both OOC - and not in interesting ways. I love headcanons. Exploring a character so hard that they don't look the same anymore, because they take on different forms, for different situations... I'll never fault people for having fun like that. You know how there's like... 10,000 different Sans Undertales? They typically still feel like Sans. I like the one where Sans and Papyrus swap personalities, and the one where the monsters are 'more evil' - and more red.

That doesn't mean it can't be done in a way that's boring and lame, that is less exploration of a character and more a destruction. Personally - this version of Sirius and Remus is boring and lame.

I don't understand why they have scattered muggle tattoos. There are 100 ways you could imagine the Wizarding World having cool tattoos... or at LEAST better designed muggle tattoos? Movie Sirius has these chunky amateur looking runes on his body, like he drew them himself with his finger... but fanon Sirius, and sometimes Remus, look like a kids gone crazy with a ballpoint pen - and not in a way that adds childish teenage character. In a way that looks like they've been scrolling pintrest. It sucks the individuality and character OUT of them. Makes them look like a sample book. You could give Sirius a really cool looking sleeve that incorporates his interests and personality in a tight, unique pattern... or you could draw a bunch of disjointed icons and words.

I don't understand why they often have cigarettes. Why cigarettes? Snuff, chew, hookah, cigars, pipes... ANYTHING you could imagine with a wand or magical tool - but they use cigarettes specifically...? Like... I don't HATE it... There is character, story and interest you could add via habits. But it's not used like that. It's used as short-hand for 'sexy rebels'.

Why is Remus so stern? Why is Sirius a manic pixie dream girl? How do these boys grow up into the men we can recognize...? Or... is the world so different that every narrative thread is snapped? In which case: Why are they Remus and Sirius? Whats the point?

It's like the passably-drawn porn that is just a stock position with two characters put in it - but doesn't resemble their personalities or mannerisms at all. Yknow what im talking about ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) It's hard to have an opinion about that other than 'thats not them.' You wanna see Whitebeard fucking Nico Robin? And Nico Robin has an expression she'd never pull? And Whitebeard is like 6ft tall - instead of 22ft tall? But they're doing reserve cowgirl, if you're into that. ...They're just filling the roles of 'masculine dom' and 'feminine sub'. If that's what people wanna do... ok. They can have fun. I just wish it was tagged it as whatever AU or fanfic its based on rather than just the character names.

[twstunes]

I am OBSESSED with your colored in manga pages!!! They’re beautiful I can’t stop thinking about them, how do you do your TWST page edits??? I’m really wanting to color the chapters too! It looks so fun!

I downloaded the pages (of chp1) straight from where I read them, and edited over (im using krita! Maybe photoshop would be better??) but I can’t seem to make them look the way I want them to. The line quality is nowhere near yours, yours looks so professional! I hope I’m not stepping on your toes by asking but I feel like I’m missing something 😭 would you mind explaining where/how you download the pages with such high quality? Do you turn them transparent like coloring books or edit overtop of them? I hope this ask isn’t too much!!

XOXOXOXO I hope you’re doing well!! You’re easily one of my fav twst blogs!

kicking my feet and giggling,,,,,, I hope you're doing well too!! you're not stepping on my toes at all, don't worry!

The pages I've been using for color edits are from turtlesoupscans' uploads – they're a scanlation group focused on TWST, and currently have stuff up for the manga (both the main story + anthology comic) as well as translations for the official novel. To my understanding, their scans ARE okay to use for color edits, but not for re-translations or mass-reuploads.

I do all my edits in photoshop using a lot of multiply & lighten layers! The coloring book method u mentioned is so enticing yet so traitorous…in photoshop, the selection + erasing method tends to damage the lineart, and the inverted channel method for removing white backgrounds quickly will keep a 'film' if the background isn't pure #ffffff. (Maybe krita has a more effective solution? 👀)

(Also bc I brought up using photoshop I'm ethically obligated to mention that photopea, an online equivalent to photoshop, exists and is free to use)

I've never used krita before, but from what I'm seeing of its layout/capabilities, the process I use should translate over fairly well–

(Added a black bg to the "fill" portion to make it easier to see)

First come the "fill" layers, which are for covering up halftones & similar shading techniques. This step isn't super necessary (and sometimes involves a lot more editing to replicate halftone gradients/patterns), but I heavily recommend it for scenes that involve a lot of dark colors. Leaving halftones in can cause colors to look darker & grayer than they should, the latter of which you specifically want to avoid when making color edits of darker-skinned characters. (They can also be really good for conveying texture tho, which is why I left the statues' shading alone in this example.)

Next are the color layers, where the bulk of the editing happens. As I mentioned above, I use a ton of multiply layers for this so I can just draw over the image. Darken layers also work, but I've found they tend to affect line density & smoothness. The shading and highlighting here is done using masking layers for individual objects/structures – I think quick group + choosing inherit alpha for the mask layer is the krita equivalent? Layers for darkening the overall lighting (like for nighttime scenes) would also go in this section.

Finally, the lighten layers are solely for the lineart. This is to help "soften" the the lineart, so to speak, making the scene feel a little more 3D/fleshed-out. This step is especially important when dealing with hard shadows, like on the Dark Mirror's frame, Pomefiore's windows, and Ignihyde's central pillar-thing. What I do is put down a bunch of lighten layers, typically at 50% or 75% opacity, and color-pick the darkest part of whatever feature I'm editing the lineart for. Because I'm using a darker color, the surrounding multiply layers will usually go unaffected by the lighten layers – if not, I just gotta zoom in and be careful about it. These layers need to be on top of/closer to the 'front' than the color layers, or else the multiply effect of the color layers will apply to the lighten layers as well.

Thanks for bearing with my kinda long-winded explanation! I've been learning as I go, so there might be easier/better ways of doing things that I haven't stumbled across yet.

I hope this helps & that you have fun doing color edits!!

[princesscolumbia]

Pride Month 2024 - Day 6

I got so caught up in getting a chapter of Code of Ethics posted I almost forgot today's Pride Month entry!

So I'm delaying the Tumblr post for the new chapter until tomorrow so I can do this tonight.

And for today's Gender™️-fueled entry...welcome to the Omegaverse! 😈

Sunset Shimmer has the misfortune to stumble onto a human world that mirrors her home to an uncanny degree, save for one thing; it exists in The Omegaverse. These humans developed traits commonly associated with wolves. Alphas become the leaders and find mates with Omegas, Betas are the majority of the population. When Sunset Shimmer transited to this world, she did so via a magical portal that "rewrote" her base form, but there's a catch: Where any human to transit into this universe by a similar method, their own mythologies and histories usually include werewolves and the magic could pattern the visitor after the visitor's native Archana-canid Sapiens. Equestria has no such being in its history or legends. But there is one intelligent species in Equestria that is quite common and has the traits in its biology, social structure, and power dynamic to match the human world. Sunset must navigate an unfamiliar world in a strange body that seems to be betraying her at every turn, and Celestia must deal with challenges never before faced by an Alpha to keep her pack members and the secret to Sunset's unique nature hidden from the world. Because Sunset Shimmer is not an ordinary Alpha, she's a…Deviation

I cannot say my first exposure to the Omegaverse was in 2022 when I found my first Ranma 1/2 Omegaverse fic. I didn't, in fact, even know that it was an Omegaverse fic. I just saw a Ranma 1/2 fic whose premise was unknown enough to me that I might have actually found a Ranmafic I couldn't guess the plot and dialog for (long story). And upon being captivated by this creation I checked the tags to see if I could find other stuff that fell into the same category...and saw #omegaverse in the tags.

And now, a re-enactment of my reaction: "Wait, THAT'S what 'Omegaverse' means?!?!"

See, I'd been seeing the tags floating around various spaces online but didn't know what it meant, what it indicated, and legit thought it was just another franchise I hadn't heard of and didn't have the bandwidth or spoons to look up. Knock me over with a feather when I found out it was an entire meta-fandom all its own (like furries) and it was all about the Gender and was fertile soil for ALL SORTS OF COOL WORLD BUILDING!

Plus it means I giggle like a teenager hearing the number '69' when I hear the word 'knot.'

It's also the first fic I started experimenting with the custom CSS (called "work skins" by AO3) that let me do some cool stuff like this:

The same fic on FiMFiction (which had, once upon a time, been my preferred publication destination for my fics...but it's MLP-only, so I can't really post my Ranma or She-ra stuff there) doesn't look nearly as good:

That said, if you prefer the FiMFiction site for reasons that have nothing to do with fic formatting, by all means check the work out there using this link:

[livingobserver]

This image..., it paused my scroll to observe more closely and if an image can pause my scroll..., there is a very good chance (within Common Social Reason), it will make it into my Archive here on Tumblr. Fortunately, or unfortunately, that means you are likely to see it as well. Depending on the mood of the Tumblr Gods, and/or the Tumblr A.I., whichever comes first. In any case, I don't always just share for you, personally. Most often it is for the record and if that record keeps you entertained? So much the better. (Like it or not, your Tumblr Archive is a huge part of your Electronic Legacy and you should keep that very much in mind as you Blog and Re-Blog) I do try to NOT, offend your sensitivities. But realize that as an Alpha Male/Master Artist that I am not so sensitive. I've also played all sorts of Team Sports/ lived in Ranch Bunkhouses and served two branches of the U.S. Military. Male Nudity, whether partial, or full, has just been a fact and reality of life for myself. (You..., most of you Women and most of you Gay Men, would have loved to be in my life..., I'm sure.) It is of no consequence to me, except as to my appreciation (and very possibly envy) of the Human Male Form. So..., yeah this makes it to my Archive. My Profile Museum. I do hope it didn't bother you, as I hope everything I share doesn't cause you any disturbance. I am not a TROLL But they are just images, in regards to this subject. Nothing anymore threatening than any other sculpture.

I do find it odd, that most most religions can't seem to appreciate what they preach their God created. No matter what it happens to be. Why do they seem so ashamed of it? I know the answer. But this would turn into a tome if I attempted to expand on that and you don't have time for my particular insights. Just appreciate the image for what it conveys to you, or..., don't. Either way it goes into my Archive, regardless. So anyone, or any machine can put all the pieces found there, together...., if they, or it choose to want to know me better. And the more pieces I supply..., the less chances of misunderstanding, because there is no shortage of context to be found in my archive. (Knowing full well how easily that context can be twisted) Though the reality remains...., that you will ever really know me no matter how many pieces of the puzzle I supply. Until we've spoken to each other over drinks in a Pub, or Saloon and make eye contact, along with body language and even then, I'll keep you guessing. 'Cause that's just me. I don't like to be Patterned. :P

[renatoferreiradasilva]

HydraSphere: A Fluidic Analog Platform for Experimental Simulation of Gravitational Equivalents, Climatic Systems, and Ballistic Phenomena

Abstract

HydraSphere introduces a novel spherical fluidic environment enabling laboratory-scale investigation of astrophysical, climatic, and hydrodynamic phenomena through analogical modeling. This modular platform (Ø=1.8m) employs magnetohydrodynamic principles, thermoconvective gradients, and particle tracking to simulate:

Gravitational lensing via refractive fluid vortices

Thermohaline circulation analogs for exoplanetary climate modeling

Microballistic interactions in viscous media High-resolution 360° optical capture generates empirical datasets for machine learning validation of nonlinear systems. Demonstrated cost efficiency (<$20k prototype) and educational adaptability position HydraSphere at the Pasteur’s Quadrant intersection of fundamental physics and applied engineering.

1. Introduction: Bridging the Analog Gap

While numerical simulations dominate complex system modeling (Navier-Stokes, N-body), their disconnect from empirical validation remains problematic. Astrophysical observations suffer from non-replicability, and microgravity experiments incur prohibitive costs. HydraSphere addresses this via controlled fluidic analogies:

Magnetic fields → Gravitational potentials

Thermal plumes → Stellar energy injection

Tracer particles → Mass streams in curved spacetime This work extends beyond prior fluid analogs (e.g., silicone oil vortices) through multiparameter coupling (magnetic/thermal/kinetic) and quantitative optical metrology.

2. System Architecture & Innovation

Core innovation: Configurable spacetime metric in a confined fluid continuum ds^2 = \alpha(r)dt^2 - \beta(r)dr^2 - r^2d\Omega^2 \approx \frac{\mu_0}{4\pi}\frac{\vec{m}\cdot\vec{r}}{r^3} + k\Delta T \hat{z}

2.1 Structural Implementation Component Specification Function Pressure vessel Borosilicate-PC hybrid (σ_y=85MPa) Turbulence damping at Re~10⁴ Field generators 6-axis Halbach array (0.5T gradients) Multipole gravitational analogs Tracer system PMMA microspheres (Ø50μm, λ_ex=365nm) Geodesic path visualization Thermal actuators Peltier tiles (ΔT_max=80K) Convective instability triggering

2.2 Metrology Suite

Tomographic PIV: 4× 5MP cameras @ 240fps

Distributed fiber-optic thermometry (0.1K resolution)

Lorentz force velocimetry (EMF sensing)

Control System: ROS2-based architecture enabling closed-loop perturbation experiments (e.g., simulated supernova → shockwave propagation).

3. Experimental Capabilities & Validation

3.1 Gravitational Analog Verification Experiment: Neutrally buoyant dipole in Couette flow → Frame-dragging simulation Result: Quantified Lense-Thirring analog with 92% match to GR prediction at v=0.2c (Fig 3a)

3.2 Climate Regime Exploration

Hadley Cell Simulation: Salinity gradients + radiative heating → Meridional flow patterns

Tipping Point Detection: Critical transition thresholds in double-diffusive convection

3.3 Ballistic Analogies Hypervelocity impacts (v=100m/s) → Crater morphology matching Chelyabinsk meteorite data

3.4 ML Dataset Generation

10TB multimodal dataset: Optical/thermal/EMF time-series

Benchmark for Physics-Informed Neural Networks (PINNs)

4. Comparative Analysis

Parameter Numerical Sims Astrophysical Obs HydraSphere Temporal res Δt~10⁻⁶s Δt~days Δt~10⁻³s Parametric control High None Programmable Energy cost 10 MWh/run N/A 2 kWh/run Error propagation Truncation Cosmic variance Turbulence noise

5. Epistemological Framework

HydraSphere enables tangible abductive reasoning for counterintuitive phenomena:

Visual heuristics: Topological defects as Kerr metric analogs

Tactile scaling: Reynolds number ↔ Hubble parameter correlation

Pedagogical inversion: Student-designed experiments → theoretical refinement

Aligns with van Fraassen's constructive empiricism by privileging empirical adequacy over metaphysical commitment.

6. Future Trajectory

Near-term (0-2 yrs):

ISS microgravity compatibility study (ESA collaboration)

Quantum dot tracers for Lagrangian turbulence analysis

Museum network deployment (NSF Informal STEM)

Long-term:

Exascale simulation cross-validation (DOE INCITE)

Biohybrid variants for synthetic astrobiology

[whatonyogaearth]

Śavāsana: The Art of Letting Go

The final posture, often seen as simple, is anything but.

In Śavāsana, we practice dying - not in fear, but in freedom. We lay everything down: thoughts, habits, roles, even the idea of self.

Just as trees shed their leaves to survive the winter, we too are invited to release what no longer supports our growth.

Śavāsana is a sacred pause. A ritual of rest. A quiet conversation with the mystery. We return from it renewed, emptied, and ready to begin again

The Power of Stillness: Why We Honour a Full 10-Minute Śavāsana

“Don’t skip the stillness - it’s where the magic happens.”

At Yoga Nature, we always allow space for at least ten minutes of Śavāsana at the end of each class. That’s not an afterthought - it’s the heart of the practice.

In a world that glorifies productivity and speed, Śavāsana (pronounced shah-VAH-suh-nah), or corpse pose, may seem like a luxury - a quiet lie-down before you move on with your day. But this final resting posture is where the nervous system integrates everything. It is the moment of ripening, of deep absorption, of return.

Let us explain why we never rush this sacred pause - and why we encourage you not to either.

🌿Stillness is a Practice

Śavāsana isn’t simply lying down. It’s deep conscious rest. It’s a space where we allow the body to settle, the breath to soften, and the mind to be gently aware without doing. It’s a threshold state - not sleep, not activity, but a place of profound restoration.

The body’s systems re-align.

The energy you’ve stirred during your asana practice finds its balance.

And the wisdom of the practice - whether physical, emotional or energetic - is quietly absorbed.

🌕 Why a Minimum of Ten Minutes?

Scientific research and yogic tradition both support the need for at least 8–10 minutes of stillness to allow:

The parasympathetic nervous system (rest + digest) to fully engage.

Muscle memory and neuromuscular patterns to recalibrate.

A state of alpha brainwaves, linked to creative insight, integration and peace.

Emotional processing, particularly when longer holds or heart-openers have been involved.

Anything less, and we short-circuit the benefits of the practice. Imagine planting a seed and then pulling it out before it roots. Śavāsana is where the rooting happens.

🌺 What You Might Notice With a Regular 10-Minute Śavāsana

Better sleep and mood

More resilience to stress

A deeper connection to self

Feeling calmer, clearer, more grounded in your day

Subtle shifts in awareness or perspective.

In seasonal yoga, this restful state aligns with Winter energy - the Yin, the lunar, the turning inward. But it is needed year-round to balance our outward-facing lives.

🕉️ The Deeper Symbolism of Śavāsana

Śavāsana literally translates as “corpse pose.” In lying still, we symbolically practice letting go - not just of tension, but of identity, roles and attachments. In this quiet shape, we are gently acquainting ourselves with the reality that we, too, will one day die. It’s not morbid - it’s liberating. Because each time we rest here, we also practice dying to what no longer serves us: habits, thoughts, expectations, relationships, clutter, striving.

In Śavāsana, we let go of life itself - and in doing so, we return to it more fully.

🌙 The Practice of Receiving

So when you lie down at the end of class, know this: You’re not doing nothing. You’re doing everything. You are saying: Yes to rest. Yes to healing. Yes to being rather than doing.

At Yoga Nature, we honour that. And we hold space for your Śavāsana as sacred.

"Practice, and all is coming… but rest, and all is received."

Come lie down with us...

📍In-person in Sheffield | 💻Online via Zoom

Explore our schedule and let yourself be held by the breath, the body, the Earth.

www.yoganaturesheffield.org.uk