#Finite Difference Methods

[dnieperrobot69420]

What have I been up to? Well more or less more optics.

I started to learn about the Index Ellipsoid, and I am beginning to understand how we can quantify a materials allowed polarizations using the "indicatrix" (not going to lie this is a hard word to spell lol)

I now understand that there are two possible electric flux densities (basically the quadratic equations +/- gives two roots, so when you solve for two possible refractive indices, you also get two D solutions) and that these two fluxes are orthogonal.

The index Ellipsoid let's us characterize anisotropic crystals into biaxial (two defined optical axes) and uniaxial (two axes are equal)

But honestly, I'm hitting a bit of a wall here. I just want to be familiar with the material before grad school starts. Since I'm self studying now, I decided to venture off into a related topic: Computational electromagnetics!!

I took numerical methods this winter so when I heard about Finite Difference Method I didn't look like a 🦌 staring at 🚗 lol (honestly I find Runge-Kutta methods scarier haha)

So I learned a bit about collocated grids, recalled Dirichlet boundary conditions, periodic boundary conditions as well as Neuman boundary conditions.

My plan is to use COMSOL multi physics to do a little simulation for my masters thesis, so I'm betting that having a grasp on the numerical side of emag is something I need to accomplish to bear fruitful results.

And of course I get hit with the realization exactly *why* plane waves are used to teach us optics: because they are simply a stepping stone towards us learning about Gaussian Beams!

The 🐇 hole just keeps getting deeper and deeper... 🕳️

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Ok so I’ve had this question for a while and I feel like you’ll be able to give me a good answer. I understand that we’re absolutely not supposed to support anything JKR does monetarily and I never intend to do so. However is engaging with Harry Potter media *at all* also something I should not do or is it only things that give her money?

Like, would there be anything wrong with me playing Hogwarts Legacy if I pirated it? Is fanfiction and fan art ok to consume? Or is engaging with the IP at all going to be harmful in a way that I don’t see atm?

Thank you for your time!

I don't really think a cis person is the right person to ask about this, but I also know that trans people are sick to death of having to field these questions so I'll do my best to answer this, if everyone who reads my answer will promise me that you will NOT use anything I say in this post as an annoying argument against a trans person who has a different opinion on the matter. Remember whose opinions are actually important here.

And look, number one, you can do whatever the fuck you want. Nobody can stop you. If you, in yourself, in your soul, feel morally comfortable consuming Harry Potter by some convoluted method of Ethical Consumption™, then go and do that, and own it, and have the strength to be judged for your decisions.

Trans people might not trust you - hell, I'll probably not trust you either. They might get angry at you, and criticize you, or roll their eyes and call you a fucking loser. If you have the moral conviction that what you are doing is right, and that you are acting in accordance with your beliefs and you are not doing harm, then stand by that conviction and face the consequences. Have that strength of character.

But if you feel the need to go around posting and arguing that it's unfair, that you shouldn't be judged, that you should get to be a special exception and people are unreasonable when they get mad at you... then that is evidence, proof positive, that you are a fucking loser. That you are cowardly, and you don't actually believe that what you are doing is right, you just want the world to affirm your fragile ego while you enjoy your little treats.

To be clear, I am not accusing you of doing this (you seem to just earnestly be asking for guidance), but there's a hell of a lot of people who do do this, and you don't want to be one of them.

So that's number one. Do whatever the fuck you want, and face the consequences with a spine.

Number two is... just fucking drop it. That is my earnest advice to you. Just fucking drop Harry Potter. They are children's books from the early 2000s, they just are not that fucking good or important. The Hogwarts Legacy game is live service slop; the movies are passable at best and their quality comes from the actors being better than the source material. Just drop it. Harry Potter has nothing to offer that you can't get elsewhere from better media with better authors, or problematic authors who have good grace to at least be dead.

Don't waste your life thinking about complicated ways to circumvent the moral problem of JK Rowling's rancid transphobic hate-aura at the center of the franchise, don't waste your finite time on Earth trying to thread that stupid needle. Harry Potter isn't worth this. Rowling is old, and shriveling from hate and mold fumes, at the very least just wait for her to fucking die, and for her political project to fail, before you pick that world back up again.

I speak as someone who read the first book at age 11, hyperfixated on relating to Harry, and whose entire cultural life was consumed by the franchise for over a decade. It is not worth it. You don't need it, you don't need the stress of trying to navigate how or whether to engage with it ethically. You almost certainly have an enormous backlog of other books, games, movies and TV shows you've been meaning to get around to, so just go do that instead. I promise you it will be infinitely more rewarding, and infinitely less compromised by stress and guilt and cognitive dissonance.

And while you're at it, send some money to a trans charity and go scream invectives at a transphobic politician some time.

[ronearoundblindly]

Forgot to add In our modern days please

So we've got: ☑️ relaxing ☑️ domestic ☑️ established relationship ☑️ with Steve

Since it's *me,* there's some deep feels in there... plus hearty laughs.

No warnings. It's just headcanon-style fluff!

He likes the warmth of the clothes right out of the dryer, so Steve always thunders over to the laundry room the instant the machine stops. There could be a no-holds-barred action sequence blaring from the TV. There could be real gunshots outside. Doesn't matter. He heard it. As long as you're not in immediate danger, he's going to run and plunge himself shoulder-deep into toasty fabric.

That wasn't a thing when he was a kid. Now, Steve would rather wear out sheets faster than dry them on low heat. He will pay the money. It's worth it.

For the holidays last year, you bought him a huge, fluffy, heated blanket, and he absolutely uses it--keeps himself tucked in until sweating then kicks it off in frustration--but the laundry addiction never stops.

Every time he showers with you at home, you warm his towel in the dryer for a few minutes.

There is nothing, nothing, quite as cute as Steve Rogers burying his face in a fresh towel and hugging it to leech out each extra degree Fahrenheit...or Celsius. He's not picky.

When it's a load of mixed clothing, he scoops it all up and carries it like a boulder over to the bed, bending at his Disney princess waist to press himself in.

Just a minute. Just give him a few deep breaths and a minute.

He likes to fold sheets with you taking one end and him taking the other, coming together in the middle, because no matter how long you two have been a couple, Steve still gets a thrill at his fingers grazing across yours as he takes a corner, as he hands you another. He's a simple man with simple pleasures.

Now, sweaters are a different story.

Steve will wash and dry those however keeps them softest for longest, even if it means putting them on that rack he constantly stubs his toe on. Worth it. Sure. Can we just always put that stupid thing away quickly? He's going to keel over one night trying to get to the bathroom in the dark. Seriously, it's a hazard!

Steve won't wear shoes in the house, which might seem obvious to a lot of people--he's a pretty clean and considerate man, of course he'd want to not bring crap inside, both physically and mentally--but Steve also likes to be barefoot in his home. He doesn't have slippers, but he insists on the floors being pristine.

He vacuums the rugs and carpet constantly because it feels best on his feet that way. Wiggling his toes is part of a grounding ritual he does once home.

Sometimes it's as simple as holding you for a while, savoring a long hug, methodically rubbing your back, and letting you lightly scratch at his.

He prays, in his own way, at that time. What he's grateful for. What he's hopeful for. Thanking whoever or whatever is out there for you.

He's a research fiend. As good as he is about keeping the floors clean, Steve will litter every other surface with books, newspapers, files, magazines, printed articles, and anything else necessary to get the answers he's looking for. He does not like to just search online. He's the weirdo who makes note of the citation online and finds that source at the library.

At some point, you have to put a moratorium on bringing books home when he's deep in that research phase. He's a fast reader; he can scan some there. Steve may be able to check out unlimited volumes, but your home has a finite volume.

You're not discouraging learning, though, just trying to keep it reasonable. No need for him to be possessed by the Ghost of Knowledge Past...

You can tell he's good and properly lost in an art project when supplies are everywhere. Unless it's going to stain/damage something, Steve does not clean-as-he-draws. The colors are out and they are accessible.

You love this; he's happy like this. You let him do it.

Steve gets really, really picky about what art hangs where in your home. He's knows you like his art, but it's nothing compared to the printed and canvased work of the masters. He pitches a fit if you try to display his as predominantly, but you refuse to stick them on the fridge like he's a child.

It's his hobby, he loves it, and he improves in different ways every time he picks up a pencil (or pen). He often has the most casual and fun conversations when he's splitting his brainpower. Steve doesn't particularly know he's doing it (how could he? he'd stop and overthink it if he did), but you can see the stress-thickened aura on him melt away if he's distracted for long enough.

Focusing on cooking with you has the same effect. These activities have become therapy for him--and you--and act as multitasking which is wonderful in the sometimes limited spans he gets to stay at home.

Once almost everything inside your home is setup nicely--there's always room for improvement or redecorating 🤗--Steve makes you two a nook outside to stargaze. He loves to stare and let his mind wander, but he especially loves to have you there in his arms. It's not limited to nighttime either. He's equally thrilled with watching clouds or, if you're under cover, watching storms roll in.

He likes to have you sit between his legs and lean against him. The pressure on his chest is soothing, but he can rest his cheek to yours. Steve gets to use a soft voice then, not his usual, commanding one. With you so close, he can whisper. It's just you two in the whole wide world.

Steve may not be much of a singer, but he uses that same, sweet whisper to share lullabies from his Ma as you fall asleep at night. Not every night, but still. It's magical.

He insists on trying something new every single time he goes to the grocery store. Doesn't matter if it's a condiment or a side dish or a little treat, a new cut of meat or fancy nut milk, Steve has to explore (safely).

He is, of course, still appalled at the price tags, but he also can't judge when something is too expensive since it all is to him. This is how he ended up with a single, $12 dipped pretzel, and you nearly fainted.

It was quite delicious, but never again!

There's a code, a safeword of sorts, for really bad days. Doesn't matter the reason, could be as simple as your brain just can't brain, but it means the user (you or Steve) get to call the shots. You might want to be alone, you might want him to hold you until the sun rises, you might want to watch the cringiest romcoms or ugly cry reading your 'stories.' No questions.

Shawarma.

It came from an early moment once Steve was out of the ice. The whole battle was a disaster from start to finish. He was so overwhelmed, but so was the makeshift team. They all sat in silence. Ate. Didn't eat. Fell asleep sitting up. Fell asleep in their food. No one cared. That's the idea. He needs that sometimes, as he figures everyone does.

Whatever the other wants.

Unsurprisingly, this often winds up mutually beneficial. Sometimes being quiet for the other's sake lets both just breathe. He looks at you and can see your pain, your strain, your fatigue. Steve always ends up smiling, though, because he loves you. There's a type of beauty in your sadness--this gravitational pull to bring him closer, to let him in, to let him lift you back up--that makes him feel needed. This home is where he shields you from the world. On his worst days, he still gets to protect you, to do good, and to make you happy. That is all he's ever wanted in his whole life

Also sometimes shawarma sounds good for dinner, but if that's the case, it's specified. No one is surprised when the whole night is spent just caring for each other. The 'code' means you're starting at an ultra-low place that day or night, but with understanding and respect, you always balance back out.

And finally, a freebie for shiggles: Steve finds flatulence hysterical. Not all potty humor, not jokes in bad taste, but he just cannot keep it together if he or someone else farts. I'm sorry, he can't. It's too funny. The noises???? He's dying laughing.

The team at some point figures this out, and at a dinner at your home--a perfectly reputable affair with proper china and all--the group proceeded to fake (or not fake) fart noises. Steve almost peed himself. Tears of joy were streaming down his face. It was adorable.

See, he doesn't care that it happens; the human body is the human body is the human body. Obviously, he can be concerned if there's like a medical issue, and he's allowed to poke a little fun if your toots (or his) smell, but mostly...he just finds them hilarious.

That is the most childish thing about Steve Rogers, a holdover from a bygone era, and that's kinda the best part. After all he's been through, Steve has an inner child. He just needs to let it rip! 🤭😂

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[txttletale]

could you elaborate on the difference between liberalism and fascism? it often seems like the latter can evolve into the former, but the varying definitions of fascism sometimes make it unclear when the line is crossed - possibly due to fascism’s position both as a politics and a historic moment?

disclaimer: this is a very rough overview and by no means comprehensive

fascism is a political project by which capitalism reasserts itself in the face of the threat of socialist uprising -- fascism adopts some of the rhetoric of communism while offering no actual change to the ownership of the means of production (except further privatisation) and playacts at offering the masses power on a purely affective, expressive level (what walter benjamin calls 'the aestheticization of politics)

this siphons discontent and radicalism away from socialist politics and towards a movement that will violently suppress and attack socialists, offering a two-fold shield against any real threat to the bourgeoise's control of the means of production

when in power, fascists will shore up the power of the bourgeoise and allow an open mingling of private enterprise and the state (corporatism), and answer economic crisis by expanding the genocidal and ethnic supremacist policies of the colony to the nation itself in an act similar to what marx calls 'primitive accumulation'. because there's a finite amount of wealth to be seized by this method and because purely affective politics deliberately blinded to changing the ownership of the means of production, fascism inevitably turns to external war

[raviollies]

I really hate the whole "all vampires are evil. Even if they weren't evil in life, every positive trait is now negative." in DnD because it discards so much interesting story telling for absolutely no reason.

Vampires are people that were given immortality, power over others, and their method of sustenance inherently is selfish, having to be taken from others - but they're still people. People as mortals can be evil without those things, so why can't a person with that still make the choice to be good?

Some vampires take their power over others to be cruel, to get what they want without care for anyone else. To claim and consume. Others could live a hundred lives by different peoples sides, each love unique but finite. Some vampires could see their immortality as a curse, an eternity writhing in their sadness - while others as time they have to do things they never did as mortals.

"They can never feel love" - but love can be harmful too. Love can be toxic, it can be unhealthy, and I think that some people can be incredibly cruel in the name of love. Every emotion can be pure and good, and rotten and vile on the flipside, it depends on the person.

I just think it's more interesting if there was more thought put into the reasons the monster is evil, and that with those reasons, sometimes people will still choose to be kind, and others will choose to be evil.

[starlight-tav]

I'm going fucking insane over Jayce & Viktor so I offer you an unhinged ramble about the butterfly and the narrative structure of their relationship. I apologize in advanced for being batshit.

So Viktor and Jayce's relationship is a chiastic structure. A chiasm is where the beginning and end of a story point to the middle of it, creating an X or ∞ (a chiasma is also a structure in genetics, if you've seen the word in science classes before.)

This means that the rise and fall of the narrative mirror each other (parallelism). There are many parallels in Jayce and Viktor's relationship, with one of the most overt being "Am I interrupting?" and one of the more covert examples being Viktor's belief in Jayce's dream to use science to bring access to the Arcane ("Our hextech dream") and Jayce's belief in Viktor leading them to shattering access to the Arcane web ("We finish this together.")

At the center of this narrative is death and resurrection (metamorphosis). The first season ends with Viktor's death, and the second begins with his resurrection, the literal center of the story.

Now, Arcane is about love in its entirety. All-encompassing, earth-shattering, life-giving, life-taking love. Love, which inspires our greatest evil and our greatest good, is something that changes us. Love which can lead to grief, can make us into our worst selves (consider the warmongering), but it can also make us into our kindest selves (consider Isha.)

Jayce's love for Viktor saves him but it also changes him. Twice. When Viktor dies, Jayce is unwilling to let him go and uses the hexcore to resurrect him. This transforms Viktor into the Herald.

When Jayce is forced into the alternate reality where he experiences the decline of his body and the struggle to climb from the depths to the surface (a narrative representation of empathy), he finally understands Viktor. This transformative understanding primes him to fulfill his promises to Viktor, past and future - to destroy the hexcore and stop the Arcane from bleeding out all over reality; to save Viktor.

The butterfly is a well-know symbol of transformation, so it's no accident that it follows Viktor and Jayce from the very beginning to the very end. But it isn't just a visual representation of love and its power, but a reminder of the very structure of their narrative.

Because Arcane is also about perspective - narratives. Silco and Vander show us how our shared experiences can yield different motivations, as do Jinx and Vi, and Ambessa and Mel too. Every single one of these characters is motivated by love, but their methods are opposing forces.

We see, time and time again, that those with the most power are those who control the narrative (power in Zaun creating a righteous rebellion vs power in Piltover creating a narrative of dangerous insurrection), and that power lacking empathy is corruptive (Cait and Ambessa forsaking empathy in favor of violently seizing control vs. Vi and Mel embodying empathy to save that which they love.)

At the center of all of this conflict is partnership. Failed partnerships, like Vander & Silco and redeeming partnerships, like Ekko & Jinx. Viktor and Jayce share a dream, and that dreams bleeds the Arcane, corrupting reality. But when they forsake their partnership (Jayce joining the council and Viktor leaving the lab), it nearly destroys everything.

When they lean into their affection, when they utilize empathy, when they let their love be transformative, they heal the Arcane and reality. In their final moments, they mirror each other, and as they're scattered into all timelines and all possibilities by the explosion they are transformed into something cosmic together. Their story ends as it began.

We know from the lifecycle of the butterfly, by the structure of the narrative, that beginnings and endings are not so finite. Love is both a constant ("in all timelines, in all possibilities") and an anomaly ("That which inspires us to our greatest good, is also the cause of our greatest evil".) It is the infinite, and the infinite is not a line with a beginning and an end, but a tangle of time and potential.

The chiastic structure of Jayce and Viktor's relationship is one that shows that love itself is the most powerful and transformative force in nature. It demonstrates that love doesn't just have the potential create or destroy but to do both at the same time; that reality isn't binary, but it is symmetrical. A butterfly was always a caterpillar and a caterpillar was always a butterfly; it experiences both, not one or the other (there's even a moment where it's neither and both all at once!)

Love is imperfect. People are imperfect. When Jayce is transformed in the depths of Zaun, he finally understands this. He carries this revelation to the height of Piltover where he finds Viktor waiting for him.

"There is no prize to perfection, only an end to pursuit."

If love were perfect it would stagnate, dreamless. Recognizing its power is seeing it for all its good and evil, and choosing it all the same.

"You were never broken, Viktor. There's beauty in imperfections. They made you who you are. An inseparable piece of everything I admired about you."

Viktor's transformation isn't from a broken man into the Herald, it's from a man believing himself unworthy of love to one knowing he is loved unconditionally. If love were perfect it would require perfection of us. But it isn't and it doesn't. Only Jayce can show Viktor this, because Jayce loves Viktor and Viktor loves Jayce.

"I thought I wanted to give magic to the world, but all I want is my partner back."

Think about Singed telling Viktor that "Love and legacy are the sacrifices we make for progress."

And Viktor responding, "Jayce will understand."

He did understand eventually, only he sacrifices progress and legacy for love and transformation. Love is not the opposite of progress, perfection is the opposite of progress. In a perfect world, there is no need to dream together. Jayce understands this. He shows Viktor this. And together they change.

I've always been bad at concluding paragraphs, but I hope my rambling has made sense up to the point. TLDR; the butterfly is a visual representation of Jayce and Viktor's narrative as one of love and transformation.

[whatlurksbean]

I really admire your ability to be chill with flexible planning when it comes to changing stuff with your comic!! I have a really hard time living with story decisions and I know it’s a big hamper on actually going through with them… x__x is getting over that something that comes with experience, or do you always just feel a bit bothered by things and just learn to live with it? (I’ve been following you since TR and the way you develop your stories overtime and let them grow with you as an artist is something I have always really loved seeing, i hope to go about my projects someday)

Thank you!

i really enjoy how i do it, i think i would get bored if it was finitely planned from day one.

i think you just have to live with being bothered with some past choices. People change, and comics take years to complete. You will probably not make the same writing choices in 5 years that you would make today, but that’s just part of creating i think.

Everyone has a different method when making a comic though, some people like a detailed script before starting. Some people just write on the fly. You really just need to find what works for you, and i dont know if you are able to know until you do it.

Wishing you luck in your creative endeavors!

[shiftingfawnnn]

Shifting: A Perspective on Immortality, Death, and the Afterlife

Shifting is a concept that has always fascinated me because it feels like a bridge between life, death, and something even greater. It provides an answer to some of life’s most profound questions: What is the purpose of existence? What happens after we die? And how much control do we truly have over our reality?

Because of that I’m gonna be discussing shifting, immortality, being your own god, death, the afterlife, “I think before I am,” in this one blog.

Shifting and Immortality

Immortality, when considered through the lens of shifting, isn’t about living forever in the same physical body. Instead, it’s about the enduring nature of consciousness and its ability to transcend physical limits. Shifting allows us to explore realms where time behaves differently or where existence is not confined by the rules of our current reality. This ability to endlessly experience new realities feels like a form of immortality—a way for our spirit or essence to continue thriving in infinite variations. It’s comforting to know that even if our physical body remains finite, our consciousness can journey on, free to explore boundless worlds and possibilities.

Shifting and Death

While immortality is inherent in shifting, it also mirrors the experience of death. Shifting involves leaving behind one version of yourself to fully embody another in a different reality. It’s a process of transformation, where one version of “you” must end for another to begin. This act of letting go mirrors death, but instead of finality, it represents transition and renewal. Shifting reframes death as not the end, but a gateway to other dimensions of existence—much like stepping into another chapter of being.

Shifting and the Afterlife

The afterlife has always been shrouded in mystery, but shifting sheds new light on what it might entail. What if the afterlife is simply another reality we shift into after death? The traditional concepts of heaven, hell, or reincarnation could be interpretations of alternative dimensions. Shifting provides an opportunity to explore or even create one’s own afterlife while still alive. It eliminates the fear of the unknown and replaces it with curiosity, suggesting that the afterlife isn’t something we wait for, but something we can shape and experience even now.

“I Think Before I AM” and Being Your Own God

Shifting aligns deeply with the idea of “I think before I AM,” emphasizing the power of thought in creating reality. Shifting requires belief, visualization, and focus—an act of turning thought into tangible experiences. By harnessing the mind’s potential, one can reshape reality entirely. This power is akin to being your own god, creating and controlling the experiences of your life through sheer intention. It’s a reminder that we are not mere observers of reality, but active participants who hold the power to design the world we live in.

Conclusion

Shifting is more than just a method of moving between realities—it’s a framework for understanding life, death, the afterlife, and our role as creators of our own existence. It reveals that immortality lies not in physical permanence, but in the infinite potential of consciousness. It reframes death as transformation, rather than an ending, and provides a glimpse into the afterlife as a space we can explore now. Most importantly, shifting reminds us of the extraordinary power of our thoughts and beliefs, showing us that we are, indeed, the architects of our lives. It’s a practice that inspires hope, growth, and boundless curiosity about what lies beyond the limits of our current understanding.

[ariaste]

Hello!

Thank you so much for your writing, I am devouring all of your published books (and every time i am left with a hunger for more of those same characters but alas). I wanted to ask you where you got your inspiration for the different cultures in your world and for the languages spoken in it, how that process came to be, if you had any struggles with it and so on.

I hope my question doesn't bother you, if so please ignore.

Have a lovely weekend 🥰

Ah, thank you so much, I'm so glad you're enjoying the books! :)

So worldbuilding can be a little bit tricky, depending on how you do it. For me, I want my readers to feel as though the world is showing hospitality to them, using the most classic and sacred definition of what hospitality means. I'm not writing books set in the real world, so I'm not representing real cultures, but I still want people to experience that delighted little tingle of recognition: "Oh, there are people who look like me here!" or "Oh, that's something we do in my culture too!" or "omg that IS how [thing] is, exactly!"

Obviously this cannot succeed for 100% of the audience 100% of the time with every single book, because a book can only fit a finite amount of STUFF in it before everybody gets bored and tired.

For one thing: If you DID try to fit more into the book than what its capacity can hol, then you start running into that "ticking off boxes for diversity points" method of representation, which... idk, man, personally I prefer to see one thing done well with depth and care.

For another thing: You simply can't please everyone, for the same reason that you can't feed the entire world out of your own home kitchen. The whole world can't even fit on the street outside your home, let alone under your roof! But you can invite a few people at a time over for a dinner party, and feed them well, and then invite a few more people over next week, and feed them too. Given forty, fifty, sixty more years to work, I still won't have been able to please everyone, but hopefully I will have been able to feed a lot of them.

So those are kind of my guiding principles to start out with, which inform my overall approach and the Vibes of what I'm going for. But like I said, there are some tricky things to navigate with worldbuilding, such as how to bring in that sense of familiarity without committing cultural appropriation.

Personally, I believe that humans are humans, that humans have always been humans, and that human nature is kind of the same no matter where you go, even if the details differ. (What I mean by this -- Every culture in history has cared about Food, but cultural attitudes about food vary: What is polite table manners in one culture might be shockingly rude in another; te foods people traditionally eat in Norway are not the same as the foods people traditionally eat in Tonga; everybody needs fire to cook.)

There are a number of human universals across all cultures, but the three that I most often rely on when I'm doing my worldbuilding are: 1) Everybody eats, 2) everybody communicates, and 3) everybody adorns their body. These aren't necessarily the FIRST things that I'm looking at when I'm doing worldbuilding, but they're often the first ones that I reach for when I'm trying to encode Familiar Things into my work -- I will usually use real-world languages and names rather than fantasy languages, and I will VERY often mention real-world foods. And those are so visceral to us and carry so much automatic cultural weight that I can pretty effortlessly cue an automatic and instinctive cultural orientation in the reader's brain with nothing more than a name and a food.

Here, watch: "Yamamoto ate a piece of sushi and sighed at the rain." Depending on how readily your brain pictures things (everyone has a different degree of this) and the fact that in context you'd know you were reading a fantasy book, you might have also already filled in half the room behind him, the color of the sky, the fact that he's sitting on a cushion at a low table in a room with sliding doors that open onto the porch, what season it is, and possibly even a vague idea of what he's wearing. I didn't tell you any of that shit. A name and a food, and your brain did the rest. That's how much cultural weight language and food carries.

You can do it with clothing as well, but you have to be a little more careful, because while language and food are not closed cultural practices, some clothes are. But it still makes a difference if I say "She stopped before the doors, steeled her nerves, and smoothed the wrinkles out of her sari" versus "smoothed the wrinkles out of her kimono" versus "smoothed the wrinkles out of her kaftan" versus "smoothed the wrinkles out of her cotehardie". Cultural touchstones! Food and language and clothing MATTERS, and it gives us so many clues about where we are and what the vibes are.

Finally, as to your question about where I got my inspiration: I get it from everywhere. I have the sort of brain that is always wide open for interesting facts, and I am curious about a LOT of things. I just spent two weeks binge-watching this youtube channel of a guy who is a professional opal cutter in Australia. Will I ever write a book about opal cutting? Dunno! I just sort of... have a tendency to intake everything, and it all becomes raw material.

Hope that answered some of your questions??? I'm not sure that it did ahahaha. Please feel free to ask more specifically if there's anything else you want to know about. :)

[sapphosremains]

Thoughts on Calvinism?

This is so interesting bc the majority of posts about Calvinism on here have focused on its beliefs about predestination, so I want to try and buck that. As with everything on this blog you'll get a weird mix of personal religion and academic theology, so do shout if you only wanted one or the other and I'll try again! Another disclaimer: I have no formal reading or research on Calvinism - denominational theology isn't really my area, so anything in here is personal opinion and from brief research, but no real academic reading. I'll get round to it, but it's not the top of my list right now!

Starting with the unified idea against the Real Presence, with Calvinism teaching that the Eucharist is simply a reminder of Christ's sacrifice, personally I just can't agree. I am still working out where I am on trans/consubstantiation, but I do completely believe in the idea of the Real Presence, and reject a memorialist theology. To me, it just doesn't work that the Eucharist can be a sacrament yet only a reminder and a memorial (although to be fair, Calvin's alternate view of what a sacrament is dodges this issue, but I can't agree with it so still personally doesn't work).

Now, from what I've read, Calvinism seems pretty on the side of sola scriptura, which again as an anglocatholic I am not. I think there's a reason why Revelation is addressed to the churches, and why Jesus devoted so much time to His disciples. Do I think that the Church is possibly more fallible than scripture? Yes, that's why I'm not RC, but I think the Church and community is of utmost importance, and understanding of Christianity and rule of faith is reliant on the Church. Furthermore, I think that again there's a reason why the Pope is the Pope and I'm not, and the Archbishop of Canterbury is and I'm not! Not that I would suggest that Calvinists reject this idea, just that I think there is a chain of authority and expertise in the Church for a reason, and their view ought to carry more weight than mine, despite us both reading the same scripture.

Carrying on with this Church idea, despite what I've just said, I'm not sure about the idea of God's only communication being through Christ. I'll come onto other reasons, but the first one that landed concretely with me was the idea that the preaching of ministers about God is the Word of God. Mmmm. Not sure. I think it's quite a vain idea to suggest that humans, ordained or not, let alone a massive group of them all preaching different things can all be speaking the word of God. Even just think of a minister you know who's said something slightly off, or a denomination that is far off every other, or not to generalise but if you've ever watched a mega-church service... can they all be the Word of God? Makes me feel a bit icky. The other stuff about Christ and salvation being the only two methods of God's self-revelation I feel like I don't know enough theology about to write about, but my instinct is against.

Covenant theology to me just felt like another framework, and I'm not keen on it. So far what I've read of Calvinism just seems to me like it tries to restrict a divine and infinite being into finite and defined ways of working with humans, and I'm not super keen.

Social trinitarianism? Nuh uh. I just, no. Not sure what to say, I'm just a Nicene creed girly.

Now, getting into the stuff we see more on here, starting with total depravity. This one makes me sad. There was a really good post on here which I've just been looking for (similar to this post by @hymnsofheresy) and I wish I could find it but essentially just a different view of original sin, seeing it more as meaning that we cannot be perfect, and to prevent us being perfectionists because we are in a world which cannot let us be perfect. I really like this view. The Calvinist idea of total depravity meaning that we are displeasing to God, 'defiled and polluted' in his sight, and makes us 'naturally hateful to God' is just like what? God loves us. Yes, He hates sin, and sin is irrevocably linked to the person, but I can't believe that He hates us and finds us displeasing, defiled, and polluted from the minute we are conceived.

Now, predestination. Similarly to the original sin, I just think this is such a nihilist theology. I think if I believed that there was a chance that before I had a chance to have faith, or do good works, I was condemned to hell, no matter what I did, I would struggle to have faith. Why would one want to believe in a God if you think that He could have condemned you to hell before your existence, based on no characteristic of your own?

On a more flippant note (ha), I couldn't be Calvinist because I love music, and as cool as a cappella is, it definitely couldn't be my whole liturgical life (also I'm an organist!).

Hope this was somewhat interesting, and I hope not horrifically uniformed. What are your thoughts?

[nyx-de-riva]

Reflection Ronday/Early Ruesday

Thank you guys for tagging me: @serensama, @alystrin03, & @thedissonantverses last week for this! I'm just now getting to it, so sorry. But hey, early start for this week!!!

I tag..... @woundedsoul12, @ccrystalfox, @pavuslavellan, & @antivan-sprig. And YOU!!! If you see this and haven't been tagged yet, I'm tagging you!!! Do it and tag me!!!

Rules: Go through your writing, art, gifs, etc. that you started but never finished and find something you love. Brush it up a bit if you want and share it. Tag me and use the tag Reflection Ruesday.

I decided to dust off the Solas/M!Lavellan fic I had been writing. I was kind of proud of how I wrote this little scene.

Solas studied Michael’s face the way one would study a book. Tracing every detail, taking in every blemish and scar. There was only one thing marring the man’s face that made Solas feel a deep pang of regret. The vallaslin, marking one of his eyes. A tried and true method the dalish seemed to believe distinguished them from city elves. To keep them close to elven history. A gross misunderstanding of their past, and a terrible tattoo to place on someone. After seeing nearly every dalish hunter or keeper marked with one, Solas had grown accustomed to it, the dalish were but a shadow of the former elves, husks. Their finite lifespans and fickle traditions that had been twisted and misshapen until nothing of their former glory remained.  Michael was different though, from the very start. Solas could see him, truly. When they spoke, it didn’t feel as if he were talking to nothing more than a lifeless body. Even with precious few interactions, Solas had found himself desiring to speak with Michael more and more. Funnily enough, the Herald almost seemed to catch onto his eagerness and sought him out first rather frequently. Their musings would go on long into the night, within Haven and out in the field. Michael was a sponge, willing to soak up any knowledge Solas deemed interesting enough to share. Of course, there were many things he couldn’t share though. So many things that he wouldn’t understand.

[glitteringcrab]

Do you think the portals spewing blood in the dead Morty vat is linked to the blender dimension and is spewing Rick blood?*

Ricks have called it "the oldest trick in the book" which suggests has been used a lot, but then again we've seen only two instances of it being used in the series:

*which, if my theory is correct, is probably necessary to reinforce the Central Finite Curve Wall. If Ricks need Morty & Rick uhhh 'frozen' brainwaves (frozen? However they are stored whenever they bodyhop using Operation Phoenix, anyway) to support the Central Finite Curve wall, I can see them getting dead Mortys easily (duh) but I was wondering where they'd get Rick brainwaves...

I dunno if the Blender Dimension is used often enough by infinite Ricks to provide adequate amounts of Rick brainwaves, but then again, I have no other explanation for the portals spewing nothing but blood. Where did that blood come from?

Then again, once Eyepatch Morty took over we saw the Citadel using a very different execution method (those airlock chambers). If they truly needed dead Rick brainwaves you'd think they'd want to put every dead Rick in good use and do all executions via blender dimension, but apparently not?

(Or was that one of the many changes Eyepatch Morty did once he took over the Citadel? Since he wanted the Curve weakened anyway, there'd be no need to execute via Blender Dimention...)

[drrobctnik]

@maaskuline

he was new to the whole G.U.N business; not exactly a greenhorn, but a little wet behind the ears. still, julius had just turned 24, and was slowly trying to make his way up the ranks of G.U.N's frankly bizarre 'status' system. it was infuriatingly annoying trying to navigate what exactly he was supposed to do or say in order to impress enough to be risen up a rank.

julius stood at 6'3", trying not to slouch as much nowdays but couldn't help it. he also struggled with eye contact, primarily because everybody here always looked so serious. did his best to emulate them, not wanting to tarnish G.U.N's name or reputation while out and about in the field or while on missions. though, lately, julius had been noting that G.U.N's methods were... er, different than what he had expected of a military's to be.

his thought was that their job was to protect the people of earth first and foremost, and then the planet itself. G.U.N's higher ups, however, felt it was more important to keep the shareholders & those that helped fund the military happy and pleased. which meant following government orders & working so closely together with them. julius hadn't enjoyed that.

he also hadn't enjoyed his own work being passed over or looked down upon. what was so wrong with building machines with the intent to help people? to help enrich the planet; to shield nature and revitalize it? didn't these people realize that earth's resources and it's nature were finite if they weren't careful with it??

a sigh huffed from julius, as he pushed his hair back and his bangs fell against his eyes again. he should probably look into cutting his bangs, that or slicking his hair back somehow. wouldn't do him any good to be caught unawares by something just because he couldn't see past his own bangs.

"maybe i should just quit..." it's muttered, mostly to himself, turning to head into the break room that G.U.N used for it's lower-ranked soldiers. the higher ups had their own wing/unit and quarters. julius'd even heard talk of some high ranking G.U.N members having their own bedrooms / mini-apartments around certain bases--

not paying attention, julius nearly slams into someone that was leaving, "sorry," he starts, then glances up and stills. he's looking down at probably one of the most muscular men he's seen in a while, since he'd quit the gay club. jesus, those arms. no focus julius.

"....are you new here?"

[speaker-of-the-void-cats]

[I could be wrong. Is it possible the Black Heart will beat again?]

<<This place is a message… and part of a system of messages… pay attention to it!>>

They mistake the vessel for its contents. They confuse the pieces with the whole. They see their imprisonment as empowerment. They are hostages of their flesh, unable to see without vision. Unable to hear without sound. Unable to slake their thirst for fear of drowning. Their ignorance is their saving grace. Yet one among them understands, in their limited fashion. They pour from one vessel to another. A welcome change. A new form. Another method of gifting death. I am made finite. Personal. Bright and delicate to hide my true form. An intimacy. They think me contained, but I am instead diffused, as vapor upon the wind. Once again, I am becoming.

There is a great deal of difference between the source of the power, the power itself, and the hand that shapes it.... do you know where the lines are drawn, Guardian?

<<Sending this message was important to us. We considered ourselves to be a powerful culture.>>

MARA: I touched the mind of that being - that monster - only once.

MARA: I sensed its purpose. Not the purpose itself, but the idea of purpose.

EIDO: The final shape. What it seeks to achieve, with all the tools it has gleaned over the years. This... eternal, perfect thing.

MARA: The language it uses is illuminating. Peak. Pinnacle. Pyramidion.

MARA: The broad base of the pyramid, focusing and sharpening as it builds toward its highest point.

MARA: Self-improvement, or what that being believes to be self-improvement.

[Here, I began to realize something. Excitement rushed through me like lightning.]

EIDO: Dissecting, reassembling. Taking, merging. All those things point towards what the Witness sees as the final shape.

EIDO: It is not simple destruction, the march of entropy. The ruined garden.

EIDO: It seeks... compression. The combination of a chosen past and limitless future into a perfect forever. A state of being that cannot be anything else, because it is everything it could be.

MARA: Taxidermy.

[She had to explain the practice to me. What strange hobbies Golden Age humans had! The metaphor was quite apt.]

EIDO: But it cannot achieve this goal, can it? Not perfectly.

EIDO: What it does instead is mutilation. Its tools leave scars on reality. Great wounds that do not heal. It may preserve some elements, but it always botches the process.

MARA: It cannot accomplish what it envisions—its true ideal of the final shape—without the Traveler's power.

MARA: How it must rankle, to be forced to rely upon the being it loathes.

[She smiled without humor.]

MARA: I hope the Guardian is properly grateful for this gift, Scribe Eido. You have shown them more than an opening move; you have laid bare their opponent's guiding principles.

[I could not help but chirp with pride. I might have felt embarrassed, but Marakel seemed amused…then suddenly serious.]

MARA: Last night, I had a dream.

[I sat up straight.]

MARA: It began in nothing. Neither Light nor Dark; the absence of both. But in that nothing, I began to perceive an impossible something.

MARA: Stone hands clutching at the fabric of the sky. A mountain of screaming bone. A crumbling spire choked by kudzu. A great cancerous growth. Necrotic tendrils digging into flesh, which was earth. Darkness turned gangrenous, strangling the Light.

MARA: But I was not afraid. As I woke, I felt the lingering warmth of a campfire, chasing the chill from my hands.

[She leaned forward. Though I was the one who recorded her words, I believe she was speaking to you.]

MARA: It is not too late.

TRANSCRIPTION ENDS

<<This place is not a place of honor… no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here… nothing valued is here.>>

April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, And drank coffee, and talked for an hour. Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch. And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s, My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust.                       Frisch weht der Wind Der Heimat zu Mein Irisch Kind, Wo weilest du? ‘You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; ‘They called me the hyacinth girl.��� —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Oed’ und leer das Meer.

Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, Had a bad cold, nevertheless Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe, With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she, Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor, (Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!) Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks, The lady of situations. Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel, And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card, Which is blank, is something he carries on his back, Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find The Hanged Man. Fear death by water. I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring. Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone, Tell her I bring the horoscope myself: One must be so careful these days.

Unreal City, Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many. Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, And each man fixed his eyes before his feet. Flowed up the hill and down King William Street, To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine. There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: 'Stetson! ‘You who were with me in the ships at Mylae! ‘That corpse you planted last year in your garden, ‘Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year? ‘Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed? ‘Oh keep the Dog far hence, that’s friend to men, ‘Or with his nails he’ll dig it up again! ‘You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!”

<<What is here was dangerous and repulsive to us. This message is a warning about danger.>>

Oryx went down into his throne world. He went out into the abyss, and with each step he read one of his tablets, so that they became like stones beneath his feet.

He went out and he created an altar and he prepared an unborn ogre. He called on the Deep, saying:

I can see you in the sky. You are the waves, which are battles, and the battles are the waves. Come into this vessel I have prepared for you.

And it arrived, the Deep Itself.

<<The danger is in a particular location… it increases towards a center… the center of danger is here… of a particular size and shape, and below us.>>

ARENA DESIGNATION: Cathedral of Dusk

Dreadnaught, Rings of Saturn

As soon as the first Guardians penetrated the Dreadnaught, Shaxx's Redjacks launched a boarding party to Oryx's fortress. By war’s end, they'd fought all the way to the ship’s “impossible weapon,” the Dark ordnance that obliterated the Awoken fleet.

It was there they found what the Warlocks named the “Cathedral of Dusk.” A Hive burial site for— what? A former master of Oryx? Comrade? Lover? It was vile. And obvious that Oryx never expected the Light to reach so deep inside his throne, to such an intimate space. But he didn’t expect a lot of things — like a Guardian training ground atop the husk of his dead ship.

I dive to understand.

I must be calm. I must record my thoughts. Now I think of the OXA Machine, eternally lost and eternally rebuilt, passed down from civilization to civilization like a ship's black box. I think of the legends of the Hive King Oryx and his quest to pass into the Deep. I took that story as an allegory. I think I was wrong.

<<The danger is still present, in your time, as it was in ours.>>

A dream of a friendly conversation with someone impossible to see, cloaked in shadows. It leaves behind an impossible data fragment to mark its passing.

Here is what a flower knows.

(The fact that a flower may know anything is a conceit that will have to be accepted as metaphor, but to constantly qualify into perfect precision wears thin, does it not? So, here is what a collection of chloroplasts and pigment can know.)

The direction of the sun.

The presence of the rain.

The tangle of the roots.

The distress of another plant.

The hands of the gardener, whether they prune or transplant or crush.

A flower cannot know much else. But the reality of the garden is vast and wild. A flower knows not the fence; a flower knows not the footpath. And yet there is an infinite cosmic garden, which is not any less real simply because the flower cannot possibly comprehend it…

Let us try this again. Stop me if you've heard this one: A gardener and a winnower sit down to play a game outside of time and creation. Yes?

Yes. Then we're agreed. The metaphor stands. Let us iterate.

A gardener and a winnower set out their chairs and play a game of flowers. The flowers know only that they grow or wither, struggle or flourish. Sometimes, they are touched by one hand or the other, and that influence is the closest they will know of the divine.

A flower and a flower spread their leaves to the sun above. (Remember that the sun is also a metaphor: a thing said beautifully, winnowed down to poetry, when the truth is too vast to put in words at all.) They jostle for space, each competing to be the pinnacle of their shape. One flourishes. One withers. Is it the fault of the flower or the fault of its position?

A gardener and a winnower sit down to play a game called Possibility. This is a game about a garden, which is to say that it is also a game about flowers, just as a game about a living being must also be a game about organs and bacteria.

A gardener and a winnower collaborate to create a protein. Whose hand is it in the design, that shortens one life to extend the rest?

It is the winnower that discovers the first knife, but it is not done without the gardener. This, too, is a tradition: a knife does not come to exist without something that must be cut. A woody stem, a colored petal, a vital vessel. The first victims of the blade.

All of these are true.

All of these are false, for metaphor simplifies as the knife does. It pares incalculable concepts into shapes your wrinkly little brains can comprehend. The weight of billions and the simple curve of a planet give you pause, and how then are you to be expected to grasp the forces that created your nth-removed creator?

So the stories woven with utmost delicacy in and around the falsehoods are, after it all, true. There was never any option for the knife to not exist in the garden: it was only ever a matter of time and opportunity.

And as for the shape of the knife itself—

No. That is enough.

I will tell you of gardens.

They are domesticated things, made in a form. As soon as something is called a garden, it is shaped. The plants require the hand of a gardener, for they have become weak and dependent on tender care. They require the hand of a winnower, to cut away the dross, for they are too incapable to do it themselves. In absence of a hand, either the flowers themselves must rise up to wield the knife, or the garden will resolve to meaningless wilderness.

You will say, "But there are plants that can walk! There are seeds that must be scorched by fire to know growth! Existence is more complex than a simple dichotomy between growth and withering, and there is more in heaven and on earth than is dreamt of in this philosophy!"

And I will tell you, clearly:

There can be no gardens without knives.

<<The danger is to the mind, and it can kill.>>

To drink the poison, continue reading.

It tastes of bitter regret and psychosis sweat: a poison to end the thoughts of Human, neohuman, or machine. You see the cosmos before you like a spiderweb of light. Filaments of galactic supercluster shine in the clouds of invisible dark matter, which glue their mass together. Dark energy yawns in the space between all things, ever-growing, ever-spreading.

Chioma Esi, research log: Veil interface, supplemental. They're all dead. Chorus, conductor… everyone. It was too much. Swept their minds away like… like grains of sand on a beach. They're all dead! Maya… Maya called it "valuable data points." Wellsprings and rivers, or… something. What have I done?

<<The form of the danger is an emanation of energy.>>

Life arises. Life spreads, contests itself, and changes. Great things are built and destroyed, but from your vantage point, you see that the victor of each struggle contains—in its negative, in the marks left upon it by the loser and the shapes it assumed to win—the master record of all that it has beaten. Information may not be erased. Whatsoever survives until the end of the cosmos will possess and remember all which came before it.

This is true even of the devouring black hole, which remembers all the secrets it eats. It will only confess these secrets when it evaporates, 10 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 years from now, long after the last stars have flickered out.

You are a Guardian.

We are all connected. I admit this despite the few people I would rather not share a paracausal connection with. Some people.

…Many people. —Osiris

You must protect life.

We are all pinched silhouettes impaled on the twitchings of infinitely long spiderlegs.

If all life is information, and Guardians strive to preserve life, and information is preserved when it is secret, then you must convert all life into the most secure form of secrets, durable to the end of time.

YOU MUST CAST ALL THE LIFE ||[THIS ONE] YOU [WILL] CHERISH|| INTO A BLACK HOLE

<<The danger is unleashed only if you substantially disturb this place physically. This place is best shunned and left uninhabited.>>

[In the Garden, of the Garden: both descriptions are approximately correct but technically inaccurate, in the same way you can say Schrodinger's cat is at once dead and alive. You and I are both and neither, in and of, extinct and perpetual.

So, there isn't much point in wondering what might have been if we had stayed in our familiar prism-prison or kept tightrope-walking across the quantum wilds. Instead, ask yourself is disincorporated immortality really so bad compared to the others' ends? Would you have preferred an attack by vitreous helicoprion or stumbling over the edge of unreality?

Imagine if we didn't have each other; at least we're not cut off, like the Sol Divisive are from the rest of the Vex. Nor are we beholden to another's purpose. They chose that lonelier path all for a chance to create not simulate, not remake in their image—something truly paracausal. Well, they tried to anyway. Either the blueprint was imperfect or the task impossible or both or neither, but their efforts fell short, so now they're stuck waiting for a resurrection they know will never come.

I could be wrong. Is it possible the Black Heart will beat again?

Of course. The same as everything else, everything that has been and is and will be. And what will become of us then?]

O you wonderful curious things. Do you believe you're the only ones with the power to see what should not be seen? Did you believe you can use such power blithely?

For your trespass, I would ruin your luck, wreak havoc on your drops, poison your engrams, and fill your lines with static. Thus I would curse you and dissipate the bond that ties you to your tasks. How frail you Guardians can be! How many millions have fallen silent, never to return, because the bond did not hold them strongly enough?

But you have already cursed yourselves. You have walked the Anathematic Arc and glimpsed creation from below. You will never forget the tenuous, provisional framework you found here. You will never forgive the mortality and fallibility that underlies a world you thought was everything.

Those who use this power to seek unearned knowledge will see more than they ever desired. There is a price for glimpsing the Cord. You will pay it.

If you ever want to see what's been watching you since the very beginning, just stand on that line, and look...

^

up

Home by the sea Home by the sea Home by the sea Home by the sea Creeping up the blind side, shinning up the wall Stealing through the dark of night Climbing through a window, stepping to the floor Checking to the left and the right Picking up the pieces, putting them away Something doesn't feel quite right Help me, someone, let me out of here Then out of the dark was suddenly heard Welcome to the home by the sea Comin' out the woodwork through the open door Pushing from above and below Shadows but no substance in the shape of men Round and down and sideways, they go Adrift without direction, eyes that hold despair Then as one they sign and they moan Help us, someone, let us out of here Living here so long undisturbed Dreaming of the time, we were free So many years ago Before the time when we first heard Welcome to the home by the sea Sit down, sit down Sit down, sit down, sit down As we relive our lives in what we tell you Images of sorrow, pictures of delight Things that go to make up a life Endless days of summer, longer nights of gloom Waiting for the morning life Scenes of unimportance, photos in a frame Things that go to make up a life Help us, someone, let us out of here 'Cause living here so long undisturbed Dreaming of the time we were free So many years ago Before the time when we first heard Welcome to the home by the sea Sit down, sit down Sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down As we relive our lives in what we tell you Let us relive our lives in what we tell you Sit down, sit down, sit down 'Cause you won't get away No, with us you will stay For the rest of your days Sit down As we relive our lives in what we tell you Let us relive our lives in what we tell you, oh

One of your philosophers said, "It is not to be thought that the life of darkness is sunk in misery and lost in sorrow. There is no sorrow. For sorrow is a thing that is swallowed up in death, and death and dying are the very life of the darkness." He was a shoemaker. He was right, and it matters more than anything.

[33-108]

"39

Anenadhisthite dehe yatha sarvajnatadayah/

Tatha svatmany adhisthanat sarvatraivam bhavisyati//

Just as all knowability, in respect of the body occurs when it is pervaded by that spanda principle, even so when the yogi is established in his essential Self, he will have omniscience, etc. everywhere.

When the body is pervaded by the spanda principle which is one's own essential Self, then as experiences of things suited to the bodily state, such as states of all-knowability, all-doership (associated with the body) manifest themselves to the embodied being. Same way, if the yogi gets established in his imperishable Self, the spiritual Consciousness recognized(in his essential nature which is pure, spiritual, consciousness distinct from the body), if he is steadily absorbed in that state, either by withdrawing his sense, etc. within himself (sahkoca- as a tortoise withdraws its limbs within itself) or by the device of the expansion of all-embracing consciousness (vikasa-concentration on the inner reality even while the sense -organs are quite open to the external objects.) , then he acquires omniscience, and omnipotence—powers appropriate to Siva everywhere i.e. from the category of Siva down to earth."

Swamiji Lakshmanjoo- "There are two beings: one is the individual being and one is the universal Being. Anenādhiṣṭhite dehe, when in individuality, in your body, the pervasion of God-consciousness takes place in the body–arena in the body, when the pervasion of God-consciousness exists and It is induced in the body (sarvajñatādayaḥ), then in all the organs you feel all-pervading ness. You become capable of seeing, touching, tasting, smelling, everything. Your consciousness pervades in the whole body. This is the strength of [sāmānya] spanda, which pervades the whole body in the cycle of individuality. In the same way, tathā svātmanyadhiṣthanāt, when you insert this God-consciousness in the universe, then you can handle everything in this universe [just] as you handle each and every part of your body by your sweet will."

"Mark Dyczkowski - Consciousness sustains the components of the

psycho-physical organism, giving it life and feeding it with its vitality in such a way that it is conscious of itself and its activities. If we ignore the relationship between consciousness and the body, we unconsciously assume that consciousness has no separate, distinct existence. Thus, inevitably, the feeling or notion we have of ourselves relates not to the condition and being of consciousness, which is unlimited and universally potent, but to the body, senses and mind, which are the very opposite of consciousness even though they draw their existence and vital energy from it.

We can either go on passively letting this infinite consciousness sustain its outer finite vehicle through which it acts and perceives, and continue to project our notion of our self-identity onto it, or else ground this notion and the self-awareness that it is based upon on consciousness itself.

Ksemaraja explains that there are two ways of doing this.

*One is to withdraw all the activity of the senses and the mind along with their perceptions into the unity of consciousness on which they are grounded.

*The other is to expand the activities of the senses and mind through the development of the awareness of the omnipresence and universal activity of consciousness.

Although logically distinct, these two methods are not different. Ksemaraja explains how this is so in his commentary on an aphorism of the Sivasutra which, according to his interpretation, means: "By uniting the mind in the Heart, every observable phenomenon and even the void appear as a form of consciousness.

Ksemaraja says that the Heart is "the light of consciousness because it is the place where all things are firmly established." In other words, it symbolizes consciousness as the ground and vessel of phenomenal existence.

Ksemaraja quotes this Stanza once he has explained that: When the restless movement (of the senses and mind) is fixed therein, the perceptible, that is, (all objectivity) blue etc (as well as) the body, intellect and vital breath, along with the emptiness of deep sleep in which it is absent is (perceived in the singleness of) vision that, freed of the distinction between subject and object, illumines (it all) in accord with its true nature as if it were one's own body.

(In short) the mind, intent upon the light of consciousness, perceives the entire universe as pervaded by it."

Commentary of the Verses with Spandakarikas

[aortaobservatory]

what are your thoughts on the time aspect? ive always loved the theme of clocks, rhythm, death, and of course dave and aradia are the best characaters ever lmfaoooo. also random rambling: i feel like i often have this sort of ticking metronome in the back of my head that makes me feel very time-y and ive always LOVED music and cool antique stuff. im not sure how much of that is an indication of my actual claspect though lol

(apologies for the ramblings xD)

Apologies; you sent this months ago and I am only answering it now! I hope these thoughts of mine are still satisfactory to read about.

I feel as though Time's inverse, Space, is understood to be "creativity", and those who may not entirely understand what an aspect is meant to be tend to take its inverse's opposite. However, the "opposite of creativity" doesn't paint a very fun picture. While "creativity" isn't necessarily wrong for Space, I understand Space to be a journey, joy in the traveling. Time, therefore, would be an ending goal, the satisfaction of victory.

From The Extended Zodiac, I pulled these keywords from the Time Aspect description. These would be the "canon" traits; they are what I adhere to when analyzing, but it should also be understood that this concept encompasses much more to do with than these keywords. Its "vibe", if you will, is much more than what is written.

TEZ Time Keywords: Struggle, restless, action, goal-oriented, relentless, empathetic, problem-solvers, (ruthless, defensive, impulsive)

The keywords I chose to represent Time are "Repetition, Goals, Efficiency, Restlessness". This aspect, like all the other aspects, is inherently neutral. It is not good or bad, but has the potential to be either.

Time is about optimization. Timebound do not create new solutions; they use what they are given within the finite and refine it into the tools they use to achieve their goals. Their satisfaction comes from the end product of their labor, and they are not satisfied if they are not working towards something; anything can be a goal to work towards for the Timebound. If Space is an infinite destiny (a course of events within the present moment), then Time is a finite fate (the future outcome).

If it's not broke, don't fix it; an efficient method is a good method, and a good method is an efficient method. It is the nature of Time to stick to what it knows works well rather than attempt to figure out some other way of achieving the same goal. (Code, and the action of coding, is a good example of this.) This repetition of methods can certainly translate into a metronome of sorts; monotonous and keeping a beat. While music is the logical conclusion to draw from this, I could make a case that it is specifically rap that is Time's purest form of music, since it focuses on the rhythm of the words rather than singing a tone. At the very least, I would say each Timebound has their own rhythm and way of doing things that is simply what makes the most efficient sense for them to do. (Perhaps that is why Dave is so fixated on being ironic when he grew up under the care of a Prince of Heart...)

Dave is the poster child for all Timebound everywhere, of course. As the Knight of Time (Active Utilizer), Dave is extremely skilled with his aspect; since Time is about efficiency, Dave would be able to achieve a great deal of things in a very short amount of time. And he does! I would almost say that if he were any other class but a Knight, the beta kids probably would have crashed and burned hard. Meanwhile with Aradia, the Maid of Time (Passive Enhancer), she would rely on others for her aspect; this manifests in a few different ways. She documents the code on the frog temple for Sollux to then adapt into SGRUB. Ghosts are considered to linger behind after their deaths due to a state of unrest and "unfinished business", which is quite in line with the nature of Time. She relies on the destruction of alternate timelines to guide her choices, which ends up amassing an army of Aradiabots to passively help the trolls in their battle against the black king.