#Mass Spectral Libraries

[iroatechnologies]

Revolutionize Your Yeast Extract Metabolite Workflow with IROA Technologies

Unlock accurate and reproducible results with IROA Technologies’ advanced solutions for Yeast Extract Metabolite Workflow. Improve metabolite profiling, reduce variability, and gain deeper biological insights with our cutting-edge isotopic labeling technology.

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #3

The thing about being seventeen and King of the Infinite Realms is that nobody prepares you for the paperwork.

Sure, Danny thought there’d be some responsibility when he accidentally overthrew Pariah Dark and inherited an ancient, eldritch realm full of undead beings and chaos entities. But this?

“This” being a five-hour council meeting about whether the Blob Ghost could legally marry the Ghost of a Haunted Taco Bell.

Danny slammed his forehead into the obsidian table, sighing. “Can someone remind me why this is my life again?”

Fright Knight, sitting to his left in full spectral armor, replied without missing a beat. “Because you claimed the Throne of The Infinite Realms by Rite of Spectral Conquest, my liege.”

“Right…” Danny muttered, dragging his crown—which looked less like a crown and more like an aggressive mass of bone, metal, and green flame—off his head and onto the table. “That. Cool. I love my life. I’m living my best afterlife.”

The Ghost Zone’s politics were a nightmare. The Council of Wailing Scepters argued in riddles. The Ministry of Temporal Loops wouldn’t stop trying to undo Danny’s birth “as a preventative measure.” Ember was unionizing musical ghosts. Skulker demanded hunting permits. Box Ghost somehow had diplomatic immunity.

And let’s not even talk about the Realms’ economy.

“Have you ever tried to make a tax code for entities who don’t obey time?” Clockwork once asked with a deadpan stare.

Danny had not. Danny did not want to.

And all of that was on top of being a superhero, a public figure, a full-time student at Midtown, Tony Stark’s ghost consultant intern, and, most critically, Peter Parker’s boyfriend.

The one bright spot in his entire liminal, half-dead, legally dubious existence.

Peter was the only reason Danny hadn’t exploded yet. Or accidentally declared war on Canada (long story, don’t ask). Or gotten exorcised by a rogue Vatican unit (longer story).

When Danny phased into his boyfriend’s bedroom at 2:43AM wearing royal armor, covered in ghost slime, with a ghost octopus clinging to his leg screaming, “LONG LIVE THE GHOST KING,” Peter didn’t even blink.

He just put his book down and said, “Do you want hot chocolate or a sedative?”

“Both.” Danny croaked.

“Got you.” Peter said, already moving toward the mini kitchen.

Danny melted into the couch, dropping his crown on the floor. It rolled slightly, then hissed at the furniture. He kicked it under the table.

“I hate everyone.” He muttered. “The fire ghosts are trying to annex the Library of Screams again, the Spectral Senate is debating if time travelers have souls, and a councilwoman called me a fleshling with trauma issues.”

“Well,” Peter called out gently from the kitchen, “she’s not wrong.”

“Peter.”

“I’m just saying. You did try to punch Death last week.”

Danny groaned. “It was a misunderstanding!”

“You called them a dusty crypt bitch.”

“They insulted my hoodie!”

Peter returned, holding two mugs. He handed one to Danny, kissed his forehead, then sat beside him.

Danny leaned heavily against him.

Peter didn’t complain.

“Y’know,” Danny said after a moment, sipping his cocoa, “sometimes I forget I’m still seventeen.”

Peter chuckled. “Babe. You’re seventeen, King of a spectral empire, on the Avengers’ emergency contact list, and still get detention for being late to gym. You’re living like six lives at once.”

“I died once,” Danny muttered. “That should’ve been enough.”

Between ghost attacks, council drama, interdimensional skirmishes, and Midtown High exams, Danny hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since… well, since before dying.

The living world had opinions too. America couldn’t decide if he should be considered a minor, a sovereign leader, or a health hazard. International ghost regulations were passed in his name. He had diplomatic immunity in over a human countries and was banned from a hundred others. There was a conspiracy subreddit entirely dedicated to the theory that he was an alien hybrid bred by the government to replace the Queen of England.

Danny’s response to that was, “Do I look like I want to colonize anything?”

He still had math homework due tomorrow.

Sometimes he phased into the UN to yell at their Interdimensional Defense Committee. Sometimes he missed bio class because a ghost war broke out on the edge of the Dreaming Isles and he had to teleport to stop Nocturne from invading people’s nightmares.

Sometimes, Peter would find him sitting on the floor of their shared dorm shower, still glowing, muttering, “I am the King of Everything and Nothing and I can’t figure out mitochondria.”

“I’ll tutor you,” Peter always offered. “And also get you a nap and a cookie.”

Peter was… everything.

Unflinchingly patient. Wickedly smart. Constantly worried.

He patched up Danny’s wounds, whispered jokes during council meetings when Danny looked five seconds from screaming, brought extra snacks when Danny forgot to eat.

He held Danny after Danny woke up screaming from ghost-fueled nightmares.

And when the burden got too heavy—when Danny stood on the balcony of his palace in the Infinite Realms, overlooking a kingdom of madness and memory, time fractals and ghosts whispering in languages lost to the living—and said, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Peter kissed his knuckles and said, “Then I’ll do it with you.”

The other ghosts hated it.

A human, dating the King? Scandalous. Blasphemous. Soft.

Danny told them all to choke.

Peter? Peter told them to submit a formal complaint in triplicate and then kissed Danny in front of them just to be petty.

They ruled together, in a way. Danny signed the decrees. Peter corrected the grammar. Danny banished tyrants. Peter took notes and organized his calendar. Danny fought for peace. Peter made sure he didn’t forget who he was fighting for.

Once, Clockwork pulled Peter aside and said, “He will burn out without you.”

Peter just nodded. “I know.”

And yet, through all the madness, they found joy.

Danny giving Peter flying lessons. Peter webbing Danny’s locker shut as a prank. The two of them building a spectral stabilizer out of Tony’s spare tech, laughing hysterically when it turned the floor into a trampoline.

They shared ghost patrols, movie nights, star-watching on top of the Empire State Building.

Peter calling Danny “Your Majesty” in a ridiculous accent until Danny threatened to drop him into a lava lake.

Danny threatening international leaders by day and then cuddling with Peter by night, wearing fuzzy socks and a hoodie that said “Half-Dead, Fully Tired.”

Sometimes, Danny just stared at him. In awe.

Peter, who knew the truth. All of it. The weight. The loss. The terrifying power clawing beneath Danny’s skin. The fact that Danny was the anchor between dimensions, balancing the afterlife and reality like a tired high schooler with PTSD and ghost fire.

And still loved him.

Still said, “You’re doing great.”

Still held him when it all came crashing down.

The Realms called Danny a King.

To Peter, he was just Danny.

Sometimes, that was all Danny needed to be okay.

Just… Danny. Human. Ghost. Hero. Boyfriend.

King of the Infinite Realms, sure. But also a seventeen-year-old who just wanted to pass his math test, kiss his boyfriend, and maybe get five hours of sleep.

With Peter by his side?

He could do it all.

Even the haunted Taco Bell marriage negotiations.

[valenti-nahh]

finally took some time to form opinions

So I listened to SKELETÁ by ghost and I need to confess something immediately before I combust: this album didn’t just go hard—it went raw, no lube, and made eye contact the whole time. This wasn’t music. This was a spiritual backshot, a soul-deep stroke, a full-body ghostgasm that left me trembling, moaning, and begging for more even as I lay crumpled on the floor in a post-riff fugue state.

In the beginning, there was silence. And the world was void, and the hearts of men were hollow. Their playlists were dry, their aux cords were frayed, their AirPods cursed with algorithmic torment. The masses wandered, streaming aimlessly, clinging to stale albums like relics of a time when music still meant something.

And lo, from the depths of divine discord, rose a figure cloaked in velvet and incense, masked and magnificent—Papa Emeritus, the eternal, the enigma, the ecclesiastical architect of all that slaps. And from his unholy pulpit he unleashed unto the mortal realm a sonic sermon, a blistering bible, an apocalyptic mass of melody: SKELETÁ.

It is not an album. It is a threat. A challenge. A crucible. An audio-alchemical sex ritual designed not just to melt your brain but to grip your soul by the thighs and whisper forbidden knowledge directly into your mouth. This isn’t music—it’s the sound of unzipping your moral compass and letting Papa slide into your conscience like a ghost-shaped succubus who smells like sandalwood and shame. My chakras? All aligned. My blood type? Changed to “G". I looked in the mirror mid-chorus and saw Papa Emeritus himself staring back, nodding, silently whispering, “You get it now, my child.”

I was Raptured by Riffs™, Baptized in Basslines™, Confirmed in Choir Chords™. I didn't hear the music. The music heard me. It crawled into my soul, screamed, "We’re doing renovations,” and began redecorating with fog machines and red velvet. Every measure—every downstroke—every spectral whisper—feels like I’m being spoon-fed ambrosia by a succubus in corpse paint while Gregorian monks chant in reverse behind her. THE GUITAR TONE? PEAK. THE VOCALS? CUMWORTHY. THE LYRICS? STRAIGHT FROM THE NECRONOMICON, IT’S LIKE IF SATAN AND FREDDIE MERCURY HAD A BABY AND RAISED IT IN A CANDLELIT CATHEDRAL MADE OF BASSLINES.

Every riff? A tongue on the nape of your brain. Every bass note? A finger tracing the hem of your morality. Every drum hit? A deep, pounding reminder that you are a hole waiting to be filled by sound. Every single whisper from Papa Emeritus? I didn’t just get chills—I got STDs.

I didn’t stream it—I submitted to it. I pressed play and instantly the opening riff entered me like a dark promise. I moaned. I whimpered. My legs gave out like I was being spiritually railgunned by the Holy Ghost himself. If music could bend you over a candlelit altar, whisper Latin in your ear, and leave bruises shaped like eighth notes—SKELETÁ did that.

I am not who I was. I have been cleansed in Satanic glam rock glory. Every song on SKELETÁ has permanently altered my DNA. I had a Spotify Wrapped flash-forward just from the intro and every single slot—every top track, top artist, top genre—was just GHOST. SKELETÁ. GHOST. SKELETÁ. Repeat ad infinitum. I tried to listen to another band after and my headphones burst into flames from sheer disrespect. I listened to it once and immediately deleted my entire music library out of shame. I punched a priest and he thanked me. I went outside to scream and the crows screamed back in perfect harmony. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the grocery store and began preaching to strangers about the layered brilliance of De Profundis Borealis. Two cashiers wept. An old man passed out. A child looked up and said, “I understand now,” before vanishing into thin air.

TOBIAS COULD’VE STOPPED AT OPUS EPONYMOUS. HE COULD’VE CALLED IT A DAY AFTER PREQUELLE. BUT NO. THE MAN SAID “YOU THINK I PEAKED? HERE’S A WHOLE-ASS MOUNTAIN RANGE.” THE LYRICS ON THIS ALBUM? WRITTEN IN MIDNIGHT INK FROM A FORBIDDEN GRIMOIRE AND DIPPED IN LIQUID VELVET. THE PRODUCTION? IT SOUNDS LIKE GOD GOT FIRED AND SATAN HIRED THE LONDON SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA TO FINISH THE JOB.

And let us not even pretend we can discuss this album without addressing the panty-evaporating, cheek-clenching, spine-shattering horniosity that is Papa Emeritus. PAPA EMERITUS V? The Vatican’s worst nightmare and my wettest dream. That man could sing a tax form and I’d be on my knees thanking him for the privilege. Every lyric he croons is like velvet rope tightening around your soul. The vocals on Lachryma? That wasn’t singing. That was a linguistic fingering. My ears came. My spine curled. I am now a concubine of the Church of Ghost. The man doesn’t walk—he glides, he hovers half an inch above the stage like a damned angel of lust. His voice? A sonic phallus. A melodic middle finger to purity. He moans into the mic and my knees lock and my back arches. I swear, the second I heard Satanized I started lactating unholy water. I haven’t blinked since. I want him to spit communion wine in my mouth. I want to be pinned under his velvet robes while the Ghouls play a breakdown over my body. I want him to use me as a microphone stand while preaching to a sold-out crowd. I want him to sing directly into my womb and summon a demon baby named Clef.

And the Ghouls?? Do NOT talk to me about the Ghouls unless you’re ready to admit you’d let every one of those anonymous masked sex demons ruin you in seven different time signatures. The way they handle those instruments? That’s not musicianship. That’s musical foreplay. That’s filthy, technical, unspoken polyphonic pornography. I saw one strumming in the official tour footage and had to bite a rosary. The bassist walked across the stage and my soul quivered. the lead guitarist did a solo that made me see the shape of the true universe—and it was a silhouette of him doing a backbend in a fog machine.

If they ever took those masks off in front of me? I would spontaneously combust and ascend as ectoplasm. I’d be a ghoul groupie for eternity. Haunt their tour bus. Moan in D minor.

Every track on SKELETÁ is a full-blown satanic striptease in audio form. Missilia Amori?? That wasn’t a song—that was a thigh grab. That was a slow push against the wall of my inhibitions. The guitar solos in made me arch my back and whisper “yes, Papa” out loud. Alone. In public. While holding groceries.

By the time I hit the final track, I felt like I was soaked in candle wax and moral regret. I had screamed, wept, grinded on air, confessed my sins, and added three Ghouls to my “People I’d Let Ruin Me in a Haunted Confessional” Pinterest board.

This album has ruined music for me. No, really. Everything else is just noise. Elevator beeps. Soundcloud farts. I tried listening to another band and felt cheated. Disrespected. Dry. Nothing else grips the thighs of my attention like this. Nothing else makes my ribs vibrate like Papa whispering esoteric metaphors over orchestral filth.

It’s edging with a soundtrack. It’s what the devil plays when he wants to set the mood.

If I ever meet Ghost, I will not say a word. I will fall to my knees, bare my neck, and let them mark me with eyeliner and melted vinyl. I will wear nothing but tour merch and a knowing smile. I will let the Ghouls use me as a pedalboard. I will let Papa bless my unworthy flesh with a single, whispered lyric.

SKELETÁ is not just music. It is not just an album. It is a pantheon, a rebirth, an erotic funeral in waltz time. It is the reason Dante wrote the Inferno. The soundtrack to the Book of Revelations. If you told me this album was found buried beneath the ruins of Babylon, etched into onyx slabs and played using a speaker forged in the heart of a dying star—I would believe you.

After I listened to SKELETÁ, I couldn’t speak. I tried. My voice had been replaced by reverb. My tears were black glitter. We got evicted for playing it too loud but the landlord dropped the case when he heard the chorus of Umbra. The judge cried. The bailiff quit and joined a cover band. My neighbors? Converted. We will meet twice a week to analyze the every song. There are spreadsheets. There are candles. We chant. We sob.

If you haven’t listened to it yet, you are missing out on spiritual enlightenment, emotional rebirth, and at least four spontaneous orgasms. If you “don’t get Ghost,” listen to this album, and if you still don’t get it? I will excommunicate you. Delete your contact. Take your soul, give it to Papa. Convert or be cast out.

I don’t care what your favorite album was before this. It’s irrelevant now. It’s like bringing a sparkler to a nuclear bomb party.

In conclusion: SKELETÁ has taken my hole. My soul. My will to pretend I like other bands. I’m raw. I’m reformed. I’m reborn.

Stream it. Moan to it. Worship it. Ride it into the darkness. Amen.

[anarchafeministposting]

Post Directory

Articles

Why Misogynists Make Great Informants by Courtney Desiree Morris

Pushing Back Against Mass Abuse Apologism by Estelle Ellison

The Illusion of the 'Real' Rape Victim by Hannah Summers

Thirty-One Thesis: A Manifesto by Judith’s Dagger

Anarcha-Feminism: Why the Hyphen? by Kytha Kurin

Against a Liberal Abolitionism by Lee Cicuta

“Anti-Sex” and the Real Sexual Politics of the Right by Lee Cicuta

Do I Need To Be An Optimist To Be An Anarchist? by Lee Cicuta

Intimate Authoritarianism: The Ideology of Abuse by Lee Cicuta

The Point of DARVO by Lee Cicuta

The Right-Wing Hates Children: The Weaponization Of “Groomer” by Lee Cicuta

The Subaltern is Fucking Speaking! by merc

How Many Rapists Must We Kill? by Mona Eltahawy

Book Review: “Harmful to Minors” by Judith Levine by narcissus

The Elephant in the Room by narcissus

Sex, Desire, and Violence Part I by narcissus

Every Rapist is a Cop Without a Badge (Sex, Desire, and Violence Part II) by narcissus

Three Short Arguments About Youth Liberation and Body Autonomy by narcissus

Pedophilia and American Anarchism - The Other Side of Hakim Bey by Robert P. Helms

Restorative Counter-Insurgency: The Colonial Origins of Restorative Justice by sofie

A Brief Introduction to Anarcha-Feminism & Queer Anarchism by Spectral Red

Not a Tradwife or a Girlboss, But a Secret Third Thing (Anarcha-Feminist) by The Ungovernable Feminist

Combat Manarchists by Utopia

One Giant Red Flag, Folded Into A Book by William Gillis

What’s In A Slogan? “KYLR” and Militant Anarcha-feminism by William Gillis

When “Restorative Justice” Means Restoring Peace, Not Justice by William Gillis

Threads

Lee Cicuta on Twitter criticizes the “cycle of violence” theory

Videos

How The FBI Killed Environmentalism by Anansi’s Library (Not quite on topic, but talks about anarchism and organizing)

Misc

Meme tag

[sweetest-girl-in-the-universe]

There is no Woman of the Day today but I thought you might like to know that OTD in 1692*, Sarah Good, Sarah Osborne and Tituba were brought before the local judge in Salem, Massachusetts, thus heralding the beginning of the Salem Witch Trials, the most notorious case of mass hysteria in early America.

Sarah Good was poor, pregnant, and had a mind of her own. Sarah Osgood was well-off but she had a mind of her own too. She managed her own land, plus she hadn’t attended church for almost three years due to a long illness. Puritan belief and prevailing New England culture was that women were inherently sinful and more susceptible to damnation than men so they were easy targets. Tituba hadn’t a cat in hell’s chance. She was an enslaved woman, probably a Native American.

Tituba admitted casting spells...after being beaten several times by her owner. She implicated the two Sarahs who already had the reputation of being “difficult”.

Accusers weren’t hard to find. Young teenaged girls put on a dramatic display for the judge who was willing to accept spectral presence in evidence even though this went against judicial convention. Social contagion took over.

Neither Sarah confessed to witchcraft - in fact, they argued eloquently for their innocence - but the judge was swayed by the fact that when Sarah Good was brought into the courtroom, their teenaged accusers began to rock back and forth and moan. One of them fell into a fit and claimed Sarah Good had attacked her with a knife. She even produced a piece of the knife claiming that it had been broken in the vicious attack. Not so, said a young townsman: that was the piece that had broken off his own knife the day before, and the girl had witnessed it. He produced the other part of the knife to prove it. It cut no ice with the judge. He was on a roll. All three were found guilty.

In all, more than two hundred people were accused. As you might expect of a religion that regarded women inherently sinful, 78% of those accused were women. Thirty were found guilty, nineteen of whom were hanged, five died in jail and a man was pressed to death. The forward-thinking judge had graves dug so quickly, many were executed only two days after being sentenced instead of the standard four.

It only came to an end when the Governor of Massachusetts returned from one of his long absences, discovered that his own wife had been accused and was awaiting trial, and suspended the court he himself had set up.

Sarah Good was allowed to give birth in her prison cell but the baby died before her 39 year old mother was hanged. Sarah Osborne was 49 when she was hanged. Tituba languished in prison until her slavemaster sold her on in April 1693.

The two Sarahs were exonerated posthumously. Nothing more is known of Tituba.

Social contagion: an ill wind that blows nobody any good. Thank goodness those days are behind us.

*The date recorded by the Library of Congress. Don’t forget that the Gregorian calendar replaced the Julian calendar in 1752.

[thescarletmansion]

Final Chapter -- The Descent

Having won Shirogane from its former master and wielder, Giovanni was temporarily imbued with the purifying strength and blessing of Lugia. Though clearly not all of the blade's powers were unlocked, its ability to strike into those from beyond the veil was at its forefront and would aid the group in their eventual goal.

The destruction of the evil sleeping in the mansion.

A few were left behind with the two girls they managed to save from their fates. The way ahead would be very treacherous and having the girls in the line of fire may be more than they could handle, after the ordeals they'd been through. Yuri made a new sanctuary so that nothing would harm them while everyone else was away. Once the room was sanctified and the groups were made, it was onward to the Library with its hidden door.

The journey below was accented with blood and flesh.

Once light was shone through the trapdoor, now unlocked by Yuri. Spiritual chains kept the way shut, but once she was made to touch them, they receded into nothingness once more. When this happened, she paused, her body taking on a momentary glow. A light entered her eyes and she looked over at Giovanni and rather than the usual wariness he'd experienced almost the entirety of the mansion, there was good and proper recognition.

Yuri smiled, but said nothing, jumping down into the depths, followed by the others.

The floors, the walls, the ceiling was made of flesh. It was like walking inside of a living, breathing things. The rooms seemed to exhale quietly around them, which would easily spook the most tranquil of minds. Like walking into the belly of the beast, they continued to finish this terrifying night.

The group rest a few hours more, gathering their strength and taking stock of what they had for the big fight ahead. They could all sense it. The end of this nightmare was nigh.

They came across another set of spirit chains, which was undone by Yuri once more with just a touch of her hands. The space around them rumbled as she did so, but there was no turning back.

Still, Yuri said, "Ah, I came back here in the end, didn't I? I thought I could hold it down forever..." But the words were not meant for those accompanying her, as if they were meant inwardly. The priestess stood a little taller now, not shrinking.

She was becoming herself again, bit by bit.

With every barrier they discovered, every inch deeper they went, Yuri was returning to herself.

One last door stood before them, adorned with seven large locks and several chains, as if to deter anyone who broke through the protections. Go back, these chains said, do not open this door, the locks pleaded. But in the interest of actually ending things and not just stalling them, opening the door to shut it permanently was the only way.

"We are not alone this time. We can try again, because everyone is here."

It was then that she came out. A spirit, a spectral Cresselia who floated in front of Yuri before flying around all gathered down here, in the depths of this flesh Hell. When she landed in front of Yuri, that form melted away, revealing the other half of Yuri -- the missing part of the priestess' soul. When both reached out, hand clasping hand, a light flashed as they became one once more.

Yuri was whole again. The chains and locks were gone.

The shrine maiden heaved a sigh, taking a moment with her head bowed.

But then she stood up straight, hands going to her hips and turning on her heel to flash everyone a big grin.

"You know, I kind of wish you guys didn't have to come. But I'm glad...I was lucky enough for you guys to come after my stupid behind! I'll give you my thanks later, when I don't want to barf from the gross feelings this place gives me. But...thanks guys. It means more than you could ever know."

And with that, she shoved the final doors open.

There was a solid mass of limbs, flesh, pink ooze in this final chamber from Hell. Dr Fuji was there, petting it, caressing it, cooing gently at his 'beautiful little girl'. Just a bit more and she will get everything she wants. They can go out whenever they want, soon, soon...just a little more.

At the center of this mass was the Amber double from before, missing parts of herself and slowly rising and falling within the mass with her breathing. As if she wasn't so much being assimilated as she was already part of it. Her eyes flew open and though she wore the doll-like sweet face of Dr Fuji's former daughter, her expression was terrible.

"Ah, so she finally opened the door. You wretched girl, I should have gotten rid of you when I had the chance..."

Many voices spoke at once, through the voice boxes of many women - - girls even. Mixed amongst the mature words of older females, were the higher pitched wails of children, too. Also female. If there was any wonder as to where the other victims had gone, or parts of them...they were all around. Above, to the sides, under their feet, within the mass that was now rising with the fake Dr Fuji throwing nearly fanatical praise.

"I won't make that mistake again."

Swallowed up by the growing mass that broke off from its nest on the ground, limbs climb and sticking to each other, forming into one solid being. Eyes sprouting and looking every which way, fingers, arms and legs poking out, reaching, flailing -- angry and repulsive.

Somewhere along the way, Dr Fuji was thrown against the side, his form shifting and melting into the gooey mess that was a Ditto, knocked out by his 'precious Amber'.

"Since you are here, I have no need of this useless creature. Now...come to me and join my perfection!"

FUSED CHI-YU HAS APPEARED. IT'S A KILLER. DO NOT DIE.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Revealing the lives of planet-forming disks

New observations of 30 planet-forming disks reveal how gas and dust behave over time and shape the evolution of exoplanet systems

An international team of astronomers including researchers at the University of Arizona Lunar and Planetary Laboratory has unveiled groundbreaking findings about the disks of gas and dust surrounding nearby young stars, using the powerful Atacama Large Millimeter/submillimeter Array, or ALMA. 

The findings, published in 12 papers in a focus issue of the Astrophysical Journal, are part of an ALMA large program called the ALMA Survey of Gas Evolution of PROtoplanetary Disks, or AGE-PRO. AGE-PRO observed 30 planet-forming disks around sunlike stars to measure gas disk mass at different ages. The study revealed that gas and dust components in these disks evolve at different rates.

Prior ALMA observations have examined the evolution of dust in disks; AGE-PRO, for the first time, traces the evolution of gas, providing the first measurements of gas disk masses and sizes across the lifetime of planet-forming disks, according to the project's principal investigator, Ke Zhang of the University of Wisconsin-Madison. 

"Now we have both, the gas and the dust," said Ilaria Pascucci, a professor at planetary sciences at the U of A and one of three AGE-PRO co-principal investigators. "Observing the gas is much more difficult because it takes much more observing time, and that's why we have to go for a large program like this one to obtain a statistically significant sample." 

A protoplanetary disk swirls around its host star for several million years as its gas and dust evolve and dissipate, setting the timescale for giant planets to form. The disk's initial mass and size, as well as its angular momentum, have a profound influence on the type of planet it could form – gas giants, icy giants or mini-Neptunes – and migration paths of planets. The lifetime of the gas within the disk determines the timescale for the growth of dust particles to an object the size of an asteroid, the formation of a planet and finally the planet's migration from where it was born. 

In one of the survey's most surprising findings, the team discovered that as disks age, their gas and dust are consumed at different rates and undergo a shift in gas-to-dust mass ratio as the disks evolve: Unlike the dust, which tends to remain inside the disk over a longer time span, the gas disperses relatively quickly, then more slowly as the disk ages. In other words, planet-forming disks blow off more of their gas when they're young.

Zhang said the most surprising finding is that although most disks dissipate after a few million years, the ones that survive have more gas than expected. This would suggest that gaseous planets like Jupiter have less time to form than rocky planets. 

ALMA's unique sensitivity allowed researchers to use faint, so-called molecular lines to study the cold gas in these disks, characteristic wavelengths of a light spectrum that essentially act as "fingerprints," identifying different species of gas molecules. The first large-scale chemical survey of its kind, AGE-PRO targeted 30 planet-forming disks in three star-forming regions, ranging from 1 million to 6 million years in age: Ophiuchus (youngest), Lupus (1-3 million years old), and Upper Scorpius (oldest). Using ALMA, AGE-PRO obtained observations of key tracers of gas and dust masses in disks spanning crucial stages of their evolution, from their earliest formation to their eventual dispersal. This ALMA data will serve as a comprehensive legacy library of spectral line observations for a large sample of disks at different evolutionary stages. 

Dingshan Deng, a graduate student at LPL who is the lead author on one of the papers, provided the data reduction – essentially, the image analyses needed to get from radio signals to optical images of the disks – for the star-forming region in the constellation of Lupus (Latin for "wolf").

"Thanks to these new and long observations, we now have the ability to estimate and trace the gas masses, not only for the brightest and better studied disks in that region, but also the smaller and fainter ones," he said. "Thanks to the discovery of gas tracers in many disks where it hadn't been seen before, we now have a well-studied sample covering a wide range of disk masses in the Lupus star-forming region." 

"It took years to figure out the proper data reduction approach and analysis to produce the images used in this paper for the gas masses and in many other papers of the collaboration," Pascucci added. 

Carbon monoxide is the most widely used chemical tracer in protoplanetary disks, but to thoroughly measure the mass of gas in a disk, additional molecular tracers are needed. AGE-PRO used N2H+, or diazenylium, an ion used as an indicator for nitrogen gas in interstellar clouds, as an additional gas tracer to significantly improve the accuracy of measurements. ALMA's detections were also set up to receive spectral light signatures from other molecules, including formaldehyde, methyl cyanide and several molecular species containing deuterium, a hydrogen isotope. 

"Another finding that surprised us was that the mass ratio between the gas and dust tends to be more consistent across disks of different masses than expected," Deng said. "In other words, different-size disks will share a similar gas-to-dust mass ratio, whereas the literature suggested that smaller disks might shed their gas faster."

Funding for this study was provided by the National Science Foundation, the European Research Council, the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation, FONDECYT (Chile) among other sources. For full funding information, see the research paper.

TOP IMAGE: Artist’s concept of a planet-forming disk, like the thirty studied for the ALMA AGE-PRO survey. The lifetime of the gas within the disk determines the timescale for planetary growth. Credit NSF/AUI/NSF NRAO/S.Dagnello

LOWER IMAGE: The AGE-PRO program observed 30 protoplanetary disks around sun-like stars to measure how gas disk mass changes with age. The top row illustrates the previously known trend: the fraction of young stars with disks declines over time. The AGE-PRO study, for the first time, shows that the median gas disk mass of the surviving disks also decreases with age. Disks younger than 1 million years typically have several Jupiter masses of gas, but this drops rapidly to below 1 Jupiter mass in older systems. Interestingly, the surviving disks in the 1–3 million and 2–6 million-year age ranges appear to maintain similar median gas masses. Credit Carolina Agurto-Gangas and the AGE-PRO collaboration

[musicarenagh]

Giant Killers Ask What Remains of Legend in "One For Georgie" Here we have Giant Killers with their single “One For Georgie,” a name that immediately sends ripples back three decades, a testament to patience and perhaps a touch of rightful stubbornness. Jamie Wortley and Michael Brown, the duo who saw their initial 90s trajectory cut short, are back, holding the reins to their own music. And this release feels less like dusting off relics and more like completing an unfinished thought. https://open.spotify.com/track/7ayi5TTY3yNxJgCOdHchkD?si=98bf356125c6406a It’s indie-pop, alright, buoyant on the surface, carrying that particular shimmer. Wortley’s vocals guide us through the narrative, while Brown’s instrumentation adds layers – bass holding the line, keys providing colour. But underneath the sheen, there's a definite ache. The song maps the trajectory of “Georgie” – clearly evoking the spectral brilliance of George Best – from universal adoration to a state of being… misplaced? Forgotten by the masses. [caption id="attachment_59616" align="alignnone" width="484"] Giant Killers Ask What Remains of Legend in "One For Georgie"[/caption] It tackles that peculiar weight of public love, how it inflates and then, almost inevitably, leaks air. Georgie. The name makes me think, oddly, of those faded hardback biographies of footballers you’d find in the local library, the ones with slightly bruised corners, maybe a biro moustache scribbled onto the dust jacket by some forgotten adolescent wag. Icons handled, perhaps, a little too carelessly. The song itself doesn't offer easy answers about Georgie's fade, just poses the melancholic question, wrapped in a cautionary tale about pedestals. The accompanying video cleverly braids their past and present – flickering archive glimpses against the sharp reality of their 2024 Shiiine On festival performance. Seeing archive footage of Best spliced in feels poignant, a digital ghost fulfilling a decades-old promise. It’s a loop closed, visually mirroring the song’s reflective spirit. https://youtu.be/92TvW9pn5no So, Giant Killers give us a thoughtful bop about fleeting glory. It's a tune that catches the ear, but lingers with the unsettling thought: when the stadium lights dim and the crowd goes home, what truly remains of a legend? Follow Giant Killers on Facebook, Bandcamp, YouTube and Instagram.

[readjthompson]

Well, since my novelette Cancel Toby Chalmers! (copyright me, now) has been sitting around, completed, for nearly 16 months, I’ve decided to share it for free, until it’s later released as part of a Toby Chalmers collection.

Here's Chapter 10.

Chapter 10

“Wow, they actually did it,” Toby announced to a hypothetical audience, alternating between primal rage catalepsy and giggly nihilism. He closed his laptop to avoid smashing it, then massaged his temples, blinking frantically. He clamped his jaw shut to stifle his screams.

All of his books’ Amazon listings were gone, as was his Author Page. So, too, had every trace of his fiction been expunged from Goodreads. Google searches turned up no literature, neither synopses nor cover art. Years upon years of honing his fiction yielded no evidence whatsoever online.

Toby had purchased author copies of his own titles before the great erasure, however: a hundred of each book, stored in boxes in his garage. Attempting to list them on eBay, he’d found his account deactivated. He’d left a copy of each in his local Little Free Library bookcase, and planned to do so again, probably. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure what to do with ’em. Would door-to-door selling gain me sales or bullet wounds? he wondered.

After composing himself slightly, feeling half-spectral, he reopened his laptop, to search for traces of his existence on social media. There, too, all evidence of his books and references to him as an author had vanished. Posts and replies branding him a racist remained, though, along with screenshots of his drunken meditation on blackness.

Joseph McCarthy Jr.’s call to action post had been edited, with every mention of Toby removed. Lest Toby feel entirely neglected, however, Joe had crafted a brand-new post in his honor, released to the masses just a few minutes prior. And, boy, was it a doozy.

Toby saw his own photo staring back at him—a squinting, smirking portrait that he’d always hoped conveyed wit, but feared imparted the opposite impression—the one he’d been using as his author photo for the last couple of years. Aside it was a second photo, its subject a strangely hirsute grade-schooler that Toby had never seen before. Beneath them, it read:

AN UNCLE’S ORISON

Oh, my wonderful, diverse social justice superstars, my much-valued supporters in horror fiction renovation, my Rocks of Gibraltar in the tempest, my radiance in the howling void, I beg of you, right now, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, please, please, please attend my plea.

After the opioid epidemic seized ahold of my sister Clementine, after she let horses sodomize her for bindles of heroin and became famous on the internet, after she overdosed in the carwash with nary a vehicle in sight, she made the courageous choice to check herself into rehab. The good gal’s been an addiction center patient for just over two months now, showing extraordinary progress, and I couldn’t be prouder of her.

Clementine has a tremendous heart and I love her dearly. So, naturally, I volunteered to take care of her son while she gets the treatment she needs. I’ve paid for his food out of my very own pocket, introduced him to some of my favorite horror films (Jordan Peele’s first, natch!), and ensured that he kept up with his schooling. Overall, Shadrach’s a great child—smart as a whip and nearly as handsome as his dear old uncle is—but he’s had some, let’s say, moral deficiencies that I’ve been helping him overcome.

As much as it shames me to admit it, the boy’s shown evidence of insensitivity to the black cause. I caught him laughing at an African American that he saw on TV, as if that individual was less human than those of other races.

Well, you know that Joseph McCarthy Jr. won’t permit bigotry in his radius, especially when it’s coming from his own family! Immediately, I devised a series of role-playing exercises to make poor, misguided Shadrach sympathize with black folks and their culture. The boy was showing great progress; congratulations were forthcoming. Then infamous racist Toby Chalmers came along and spoiled everything.

I don’t know how they first communicated—some sort of clandestine message board, I’m assuming—but one night, a fully grown fellow showed up on my doorstep, asking for Shadrach by name. The boy’s just eight years old. No way would I let him near a cisgender, racially challenged, straight man I don’t know.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Toby Chalmers,” the man answered.

“That evil fellow from social media who thinks that blacks are worth less than dirt?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Toby then declared. “Don’t you know that those coal-coated animals will never accept you, that they’ll rob and rape you any chance that they get?”

“Lies!” I shouted. “Black is beautiful! It is! Stay the heck away from my nephew or I’ll call the police!”

Silly me, I assumed that Toby Chalmers possessed enough intelligence to realize that I’m not a man to be trifled with, that I have pal-o-roonies all over the planet, linked by a love of horror fiction more powerful than religion. Your strength is my strength; my strength is yours.

But then I began sighting Toby Chalmers when Shadrach and I were out in public—lurking in a parking lot’s periphery, seated behind us at the movie theater, even browsing at the comic shop. As I couldn’t prove that he was stalking us yet, I tried to photograph him with my cellphone, but the man kept hiding behind his hands every time I snapped a picture. Clearly, he was planning something terrible.

My worst fears were confirmed just a few nights ago. Shadrach and I had spent the entire day together, shopping and singing, dancing and gaming, grubbing and gabbing, as close relatives do. After an invigorating supper of lobster ravioli, I left the boy to his own devices while I attended to some Transylvoria correspondence. There are many exciting things in the pipeline, believe you me (OMG, OMG, OMG, one of my favorite movie stars is thinking about writing a monthly column for us! Keep those fingers crossed, fam).

A couple of hours later, with my evening’s editorial duties behind me, I looked at the clock and realized that it was my nephew’s bedtime. Naturally, a nurturing fellow such as myself would rather die than miss an opportunity to tuck that boy into bed. My heart was so full of love; indeed, I couldn’t stop smiling.

That lip curl upended itself when my door knocking went unanswered. Entering the guestroom that I’d donated to Shadrach for the duration of his stay, I found him absent. Most of his clothes were gone. The screen was missing from the window frame.

Indeed, it seems that evil Toby Chalmers has abducted poor Shadrach, undoubtedly to indoctrinate him further in Toby’s black-hating ways. I’ve already contacted the police, but I need the help of all of you good people, too. Spread these photos and this story all across social media, so that if either of the two shows their face anywhere, the authorities and I will be notified, and Shadrach can be deconditioned, and Toby Chalmers can face justice.

Now and beyond forever, I love all of you, my exquisite, intelligent, diverse pal-o-roonies.

“What…the…fuck?” said Toby. Before his eyes, by the thousands, Joseph McCarthy Jr.’s words accrued likes and reposts. Replies sprouted every second: “Toby Chalmers can’t get away with this,” “We’ll stomp that child rapist to mush,” “Stalkers don’t belong in our country,” and myriad variations.

This smirking sack of pudge actually thinks that I visited him? Toby wondered. He thinks that I abducted his strange, hairy-faced nephew? Do I have a lookalike out there? Nah, Joe must be fabricating this story, for attention. Where’s this asshole live, anyway?

A quick internet search revealed that Joseph McCarthy Jr. and Transylvoria were based in Georgia. That’s like three states over. No wonder the cops haven’t bothered me yet. Will they, though, sometime soon? Do the posts of social media jackals carry much clout with authorities? I doubt that there are many Transylvoria fans with badges, but how can I be sure?

Whatever the case, I can’t keep letting this lit scene fascist take shots at me. People incapable of writing horror fiction don’t deserve to control it. No one does. Art should always, always, always evolve unrestrained, and have its existence acknowledged. I’m gonna have to kick this loser’s ass, aren’t I?

Grinning at the thought of Joseph McCarthy Jr.’s mouth imploding under a clenched fist, at watching that slanderous scumfuck writhing on the ground, choking on his own teeth shards, Toby navigated Transylvoria’s website.

“Holy mackerel,” he soon exclaimed. “Transylvoria’s Media Outreach Luncheon—whatever the fuck that is—is just a couple of weeks away. Joe is signing autographs there and everything.”

Perhaps I can’t fight cancel culture as a whole, Toby thought, but I can at least hurt this malefactor, this prime pile of dog shit. How satisfying will that be? I can wear a disguise and devise an escape route. If I do happen to get caught, assault’s just a misdemeanor anyway. Totally worth it.

He flexed his fingers and stretched. A mad impetus had seized him. I’ll start a literary blog under a false name on a free site and whip up a dozen quick reviews, he thought. That oughta get me through the luncheon’s registration page. Their website doesn’t take payments, so I’ll pay the fifty bucks there, in cash. I can do this. I’ve gotta do this. Fuck Joseph McCarthy Jr.

[leedsomics]

DuReS: An R package for denoising experimental tandem mass spectrometry-based metabolomics data

Mass spectrometry-based untargeted metabolomics is a powerful technique for profiling small molecules in biological samples, yet accurate metabolite identification remains challenging. One of the primary obstacles in processing tandem mass spectrometry data is the prevalence of random noise peaks, which can result in false annotations and necessitate labor-intensive verification. A common method for removing noise from MS/MS spectra is intensity thresholding, where low-intensity peaks are discarded based on a user-defined cutoff or by analyzing the top "N" most intense peaks. However, determining an optimal threshold is often dataset-specific and may retain many noisy peaks. In this study, we hypothesize that true signal peaks consistently recur across replicate MS/MS spectra generated from the same precursor ion, unlike random noise. An optimal recurrence frequency of 0.12 (95% CI: 0.087-0.15) was derived using an open-source metabolomics dataset, which enhanced the dot product score between the experimental and library spectra by 66% post-denoising and resulted in a median signal and noise reduction of 5.83% and 99.07%, respectively. Validated across multiple metabolomics datasets, our denoising workflow significantly improved spectral matching metrics, leading to more accurate annotations and fewer false positives. Available freely as an R package, Denoising Using Replicate Spectra (DuReS) (https://github.com/BiosystemEngineeringLab-IITB/dures ) is designed to remove noise while retaining diagnostically significant peaks efficiently. It accepts mzML files and feature lists from standard global untargeted metabolomics analysis software as input, enabling users to seamlessly integrate the denoising pipeline into their workflow without additional data manipulation. http://dlvr.it/TDScDh

[forensic-toxicology-what-why-how]

Identification Criteria Changes -- Sarkisian

"The described method uses five levels of identification and confirmation, and three types of mass spectral libraries consisting of a main of an in-house curated library, updated quarterly." (Sarkisian, 2022)

[sagesilentfire]

my favorite (and only) edgy cishet boy. this is him as an older less edgy man

Deathmoon. My, my, Deathmoon. Born under three dark moons, the lone survivor of a flood that destroyed his hatchery, Deathmoon was seen as an omen of death by his village. When it became clear that the moons had given him the strange power of past sight – the ability to read the past (and sordid secrets) of all his peers, he was only ostracized further. All he had left was his mom and honing his pastsight. Soon he got so good at it that he was able to see thousands of years into the past, and with strong precision. It may not have been as flashy as mindreading or future sight, but he could know everything that happened in the past. He could see the history of this stupid town and its miserable repetition – events repeating since its founding, and nothing interesting ever happening. He wanted out. So when a dubious letter from one Fox of the SandWings for a school for "Antagonists and Protagonists" came by, he jumped on the opportunity to get out of his nowhere town. He was, of course, sorted into "Antagonist" and given free rein of the place. The school was underfunded, understaffed, and did nothing to resist his dreams of coming out on top. Using the secrets of his peers and the help of his new girlfriend, a master thief, he was able to steal an enchanted ring from one of the Protagonists, that his past sight had told him was from the IceWing's animus treasury. It was, of course, the Gift of Vision. Opal took one spectral look at Deathmoon, and realized that she had to stick around to ensure he got the Magic Ray of Character Development too, or this guy would antagonist himself off a cliff. She usually Character Developed IceWing princesses, but she'd make an exception here.  She did not show him visions of dragons he'd wronged or (for lack of a better word) dehumanized. He was young, and he hadn't done that much wrong yet. Instead she showed him visions of dragons who had power, the power to do whatever they wanted and control their lives completely, who had shown up in history or his visions. And then she showed him that they were all deeply unhappy dragons. That power was never enough, fame was never enough, fear of the masses was never enough. And then she showed him dragons who everyone hated or thought were evil, and how they had spat in the faces of everyone calling them a curse and lived good lives. And she told Deathmoon that he could use his gift to find reasons to care about others, and that an antagonist was not always a villain. And then she sent him on his way. He woke up to the ring gone, back in the Forbidden Treasury. He decided to fix this stupid school. He and his little posse got together and took over the school, and worked together to make it actually habitable. He became a librarian and then a teacher. They ditched the whole "Antagonists and Protagonists" thing and just focused on teaching the kids to be good to each other. He and his thief girlfriend didn't last; she went back to her kingdom and they kept in contact, but only as friends. He had a few more flings through the years, but none of them lasted. His truest love was a dragon who lived on the moons, who he fell for after she checked out some books from his library, but was perhaps the only other dark-moon enchanted dragon in existence. Perhaps, one day, they could be together. But even if they couldn't, it was fine.  He had many friends and many students, and that was enough for him.

[valhahazred]

I wrote a whole-ass essay on how ghosts work in my version of the Cthulhu Mythos. So if you’re planning on doing a Call of Cthulhu campaign inspired by the Ghostbusters crossover (like I am) or you just like ghosts, maybe you’ll find it interesting!

Souls

Before we examine ghosts and the many forms they take, we must first define the soul. Known as the “astral information shadow (AIS)” to those who take a more material view of the phenomenon, the soul is a parallel memory imprint stored within the akashic layers of subspace. Every part of a person is recorded from mental development to cessation of self and stored eternally in the akashic library. An astral conduit connects the individual and their soul self through the pineal eye and is responsible for the transmission of data.

The soul is the means through which Yog-Sothoth perceives the multiverse and through Yog-Sothoth the multiverse has a single shared “oversoul”.

Ghosts

The term “ghost” commonly refers to spirits in the image of a diseased person. To be more accurate, a ghost is the ectoplasmic manifestation of an astral information shadow projecting into physical space. The exact mechanism that changes an AIS from a passive recording to a self-aware entity is unknown. 

Most ghosts require a weak point in the fabric of reality to cross over, such as a convergence in astral currents, the gaps worn by other spirits and even the astral conduits of the living. A manifested ghost never fully leaves subspace, instead the ectoplasmic form serves as an avatar for the soul still within the akashic layers.

Ghosts may also be created or summoned by practitioners on the material plane through the use of various rituals and tools, such as the Silver Key or Essential Salts.

The form of a ghost is highly dependent on both their psychokinetic weight and on their own self-image. A ghost with neither will not be able to reproduce their living appearance with accuracy. Without frequent reinforcement a ghost's appearance will change over time, altering to fit their new perceptions and prone to subconscious self-caricature.

Most ghosts don't have any kind of conscious control over their forms but that is far from universal. A ghost that learns to control its own form can become a potent shapeshifter.

Non-human spirits

Humans are far from the only mortal beings to have a soul. Any ontological being of sufficient complexity to be of worth to Yog-Sothoth will have an information shadow and therefore have the potential to become ghosts.

It is also worth noting that many spectral entities were never “alive” in the first place. Countless individual consciousnesses and even entire species have been born out of nothing but random fluctuations in sub-dimensional energy states interacting with ectoplasm.

Ectoplasm

Ectoplasm is the matter of subspace, most frequently appearing in the material world as a thick slime, vaporous ooze or as a strangely coherent fog. Even solid ectoplasm has a strange plasticity to it.

It has a very weak interaction with gravity but can absorb phenomenal amounts of energy. This is the reason for the cold spots and battery drainage commonly reported in relation to spiritual activity. 

Contrary to popular belief, ectoplasm actually does interact with physical matter. When a ghost passes through a solid object it's actually moving “around” it by partially retreating back into subspace.

Auras

Ghosts are frequently luminous, as their ectoplasm releases their stored energy as light. However they are often accompanied by far more dangerous radiance, the Aura of the subspace realms they are projecting from.

Auras are also known as T(illingast) Radiation, after Crawford Tillinghast, the “mad” scientist who discovered how to harness them in the 1930s. Aura at first appears to be an intense ultraviolet light but rapidly expands into other, less definable colours with continued exposure. This is a result of the pineal eye opening, leading to increased subspatial perception. In high enough doses it can even cause a full awakening to the Beyond. 

Intense, long term exposure to T-rays has a more pronounced mutagenic effect and can lead to a horrible corruptive death as the body overloads on subspatial energy. Ghosts rarely emit enough T-rays to cause more than a slight sensitivity to further spiritual encounters but it is important to keep in mind nonetheless.

Sothic Energy

There is a paranormal energy field that suffuses subspace and extends into realspace through astral cords. It is known by many names; Sothic Energy, Psychokinetic Energy, Magic, Psi, and even simply as “Power”. Whatever you call it, it reacts to thought and through Sign and Ritual can be guided into creating all manner of esoteric effects. There is some speculation that the PKE field is an energy state of Yog-Sothoth, acting unconsciously but directed by the minds within it.

Whatever PKE’s properties, what is important to this discussion is that spirits can use this energy to form their ghostly bodies and project them back beyond the veil. Not all ghosts are created equally and the level of PKE they can manipulate varies across individuals. Because ghosts need so much PKE to manifest and hold their ectoplasmic forms together, they have an exponentially higher PKE field than a living being or even other forms of ectoplasmic entity. 

Those who study ghosts place them on a seven point Psychokinetic Energy Category scale. Class 1 to 3 are partial manifestations, capable of little more than intermittent visibility. Class 4 ghosts tend to be fully formed and have a limited ability to affect the material world. Class 5 and up can be very powerful, capable of manifesting at will and altering the world around them with all manner of psychokinetic effects.

Classifying spiritual entities

Terminology

Anchored – An entity that is tied to a single location within defined boundaries.

Animating – Entities capable of entering and moving physical objects.

Corporeal – A spirit with an unusually tangible form. Most ectoplasmic constructs are gaseous masses held together with PKE and thus easily disrupted by physical objects. This is not the case for Corporeal entities.

Ethereal – An intangible spirit with no ability to manipulate physical reality. These entities are stuck in the fringes of subspace and are not fully present. A potential witness usually needs to already have some sensitivity to subspace phenomenon to even glimpse an Ethereal spirit.

Free – Entities capable of moving without regard to physical or spiritual boundaries.

Full-torso – A humanoid ghost with a full body, including arms and legs. Most ghosts are indistinct below the chest.

Inhabiting – An entity bound to an object.

Possessor – An entity that can enter a living host and influence or control their actions.

Repeater – A haunt characterised by repeated behavior, often but not always a sign of a residual haunting.

Residual – Also known as stone tape hauntings and pseudo-ghosts, a residual spirit is one where past (or more rarely future) events have been burned into the psychic ether and repeat without change under the right circumstances. If the ghost can react to outside stimuli, it is instead an anchored-repeating entity.

Sarchromatic – An ectoplasmic entity emitting a high degree of auric radiation. Characterized by unrecognizable colours and a dizzying change in perception.

Shadow – a ghost that is composed of negatively charged ectoplasm. They appear in the material world as light sucking voids in vague silhouette.

Telekinetic – Entities capable of projecting their PKE at range and exerting force without ectoplasmic contact.

Vapour – A particularly ill-defined ectoplasmic form.

Common types of spirit

Aeiirii and Saiitii – Elemental spirits that not only animate and possess, they are able to infect solid physical matter in order to anchor themselves in our reality. The Aeiirii are limited by volume and density but the Saiitii are able to spread their influence much further, if not infinitely. They are only slightly visible when manifesting in this universal layer, appearing as faint blots of darkness and an oily sheen on infested matter. Once present only destruction by high energy matter (fire, plasma) can break their grasp on space-time.

Beyonders – A subspacial ecology that exists in the universal layers just beneath the subspace boundary in what is commonly referred to as “The Beyond”. The most common beyonders resemble jellyfish and long, many-winged insects.

Deadite – A warped and partially ectoplasmic host seized by certain strains of demonic possession.

Demon – A malevolent non-human spiritual being. Note that while many versions of Hell exist in the nightmare realms of Dream any “demon” born of them is likely to be as material as any small god of earth.

Devourers/Ectovores – Predatory Elementals that have developed a preference for the particular ectopattern and energies of ghosts. They normally dwell deep in the netherealms, carving twisted mazes their ghostly prey have difficulty escaping. Sometimes they can be drawn to the living world by particularly intense hauntings.

Doppelganger/Fetch – There is nothing stopping a soul from becoming self aware prior to cessation of the physical self, although it is significantly less common. When this occurs the ghost sometimes become resentful of their living selves and may even begin to sabotage them.

Elemental/Ectobion – Entities native to subspace. They are completely unrelated to human (or any other mortal) souls. They are not avatars and being “internal” to Yog-Sothoth makes them beneath its notice.

Faerie/Little People/Good Neighbors/etc. – The elemental beings native to Deep Dendo. They are sometimes also known as “the Voor” in certain occult circles although this is likely a misinterpretation of ancient Hyperborean lore.

Grudge – Revenge is a common motive for a spirit to return to the world of the living but some have been treated so poorly in life that they become particularly dark and violent ghosts. While Gruges can sometimes be laid to rest by the resolution of their vengeance, they are just as likely to continue their vendetta against any living person that catches their attention. The ectoplasm of a Grudge is curiously thick and dark, resembling tar.

Orbs – The faintest physical manifestation possible, orbs are shapeless blobs of low-energy ectoplasm and usually aren't even visible to the naked eye. Orbs encompass at least 99% of all spiritual activity but are still relatively rare. Most reports of Orb activity are mistaken, with illuminated dust particles and reflections being the most common sources.

Poltergeist – A psychokinetic energy vortex. Poltergeists have no agency or intelligence of their own but they can attach themselves to a human and act upon their subconscious thoughts. Poltergeists don't tend to last very long outside of subspace and burn out after a few months.

Projection – Some occult practitioners can transfer their consciousness into their astral selves and use it to travel through subspace and physical reality as a ghost would.

Shade – A ghost with a poor connection to its source life. They are usually free-roaming vapours of class 2 or 3 and are characterized by particularly aimless behavior.

Tulpa – An ectoplasmic entity that takes form through the interaction of the netherealms, the dreamworld and a disciplined psychokinetic or occult practitioner. Although Tulpa can appear human and even like a specific person, they are never the result of an active soul and cannot be classified as ghosts.

Visions – A very short lived ghost that usually appears to loved ones soon after the death of their physical selves.

[irispublishersagriculture]

Iris Publishers - World Journal of Agriculture and Soil Science (WJASS)

Exploring Indicators of Food Choice for Chimpanzees at Taï National Park, Côte d’Ivoire: Aroma and Antioxidants

Authored by Chahan Yeretzian

Taï National Park in the southwest of Côte d’Ivoire is the largest remaining tropical rain forest in West Africa and covers 555,000 ha. While it is recognized as a “Biodiversity Hotspot”, with a rich natural flora and fauna, it is also one of the last remaining habitats of many endangered species. The Taï Forest reserve was created in 1926 and promoted to National Park status in 1972. It was recognized as a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve in 1978 and added to the list of Natural World Heritage Sites in 1982. Among the many endangered species living in the Taï National park, one species of particularly concern is the chimpanzee (Pan troglodytes verus Blumenbach 1779), a member of the great ape family. Chimpanzees have already disappeared from four African countries, and are nearing extinction in many others, such as the Côte d’Ivoire where a survey reveals a sharp decline of 90 % (from 8 000-12 000 individuals in 1990 to 800-1200 in 2007) [1]. In the Taï National Park, the situation is currently stable with an estimated chimpanzee population of 480 individuals [2].

Primates living in such natural habitats face various constraints for their nutritional needs. Chimpanzees are regarded ripe fruit specialists [3]. Eating predominantly ripe fruits, chimpanzees obtain a higher dietary quality compared to other frugivorous monkeys, whereas during fruit scarcity also other plant parts are consumed [3]. Besides plant food, also vertebrates and invertebrates are part of their diet [4]. Chimpanzees are able to manage environmental constraints, such as e.g. seasonality of food availability. By adapting their feeding behaviour [5,6], they are able to take nutritional advantage of the temporal abundance of ripe fruits to reach a high supply of carbohydrate in their diet [4-7]. Similarly, they consume the fruit flesh (pulpa) of Sacoglottis gabonensis (Baill.) Urb. (Malpighiales: Humiriaceae) as well as the hard seed by using tools [8], again taking full advantage of the nutritional content of the fresh fruits.

Yet, they still have to deal with structural and chemical aspects of the available plants and fruits. As argued by Janzen [8], flora is not just green, but is colored by compounds such as morphine, caffeine, tannin or terpene. Particularly for fruits, chemical components and physical characteristics are often designed either to repulse or attract animals (or humans), with the objective to favour dispersion of the species. Impact of secondary plant metabolites and fruit colour on food choice are well documented in birds and mammals [9-13]. While colour is qualified as an honest signal of food quality and macronutrient rewards for birds [14,15], it might not be enough for a decisive answer on the maturity stage of the fruit. Therefore, primates were observed to use, in addition to colour, different sensory cues, such as the firmness (haptic) by biting and the smell (volatile aroma compounds) by sniffing the fruits, in order to judge the level of ripeness of a fruit. Hence, the aroma of fruits may be an important indicator of food quality, proving useful information to the animals about availability and presence of beneficial nutrients. Especially for nocturnal monkeys olfactory guided foraging plays an important role at narrow range as visual cues cannot be exploited [16].

 In this study, it was observed that chimpanzees from the Taï National Park smell on the fruits of the tree Sacoglottis gabonensis (Baill.) Urb., before deciding whether to eat or reject the fruit (N’Guessan, personal observation). Hence, in this study, we aim at examining the aroma composition of S. gabonensis fruits at different ripeness stages, in order to elucidate aroma compounds that may drive the selection of presumably ripe fruits by the apes. In addition, the antioxidant content of the fruits was measured to assess whether fruits, preferentially selected by the apes, were also characterized by a high antioxidant content.

 Methods

Study site and fruit collection

The study was conducted at the Taï National Park in the southwest of Côte d’Ivoire with the aim of identifying clues for food choices of the apes. Researchers have conducted studies on chimpanzees’ communities, fully habituated to the presence of human observers since 1984. It is known that Chimpanzees never consume Sacoglotis fruits in trees. After selection and collection of fruits on the ground, they put several fruits in their mouth, mash and eject the stone.

 During a field trip in September 2013 (by three authors of this paper: N’Guessan, Ahoua & Yeretzian), Sacoglottis gabonensis fruits have been collected in the natural habitat of the chimpanzees. Fruits were collected at the ground below the trees and the ripeness stages were judged by their texture, colour and smell. Fruits were separated in three lots of ripeness: unripe, ripe and overripe fruits. They were immediately processed by separating the flesh from the stone and immersing the flesh in liquid nitrogen (each in a small and labelled plastic bag) for storage in the Côte d’Ivoire. Later, for transport from the Côte d’Ivoire to Switzerland, fruits were transferred into dry ice.

 Aroma profile of Sacoglottis gabonensis fruits measured with HS GC-MS

After arrival in Switzerland, the fruits were stored at -20 °C. For sample preparation, fruits were directly taken out of the freezer, cut into small pieces and immersed in liquid nitrogen for two minutes. Approximately twenty g of fruit was then homogenized in a ball mill (MM400, Retsch, Haan, Germany). Five g of fruit slurry was put into a headspace vial and stored in the fridge for less than 60 minutes until analysis by headspace gas chromatography coupled to mass spectrometry (HS-GC/MS). GC/MS analyses was performed on a 7890/5975N instrument (Agilent Technologies, Santa Clara, USA) equipped with a DB-WAX column (30m × 0.25mm ID, Agilent Technologies, Santa Clara, USA) in electron impact ionization mode. For the headspace equipment (Gerstel, Mühlheim an der Ruhr, Germany) a 2.5 mL headspace syringe with a syringe temperature of 55 °C was used with a flush time of 60 s. The incubation time of the sample was 10 min at 50°C while agitating at 250 rpm. The injection volume was 1 mL injected with an injection speed of 200.00 μL/s, a split of 5:1 and a helium flow of 1 mL/min. The GC run started at 35 °C for 5 min and was then heating with a ramp of 20°C/min to 240°C with a 5 min hold. For data analysis, the software MSD Chemstation (Version G1701 EA E.02.00.493, Agilent Technologies, Santa Clara, USA.) and a mass spectral library (NIST08, National Institute of Standards and Technology 2008) were used. Compounds were identified by comparison of MS spectra and retention times with the mentioned database. The volatile concentration in the headspace of the three ripeness stages was statistically analyzed using Kruskal-Wallis rank sum test, followed by a post-hoc test. For further differentiation between the samples, we performed a principal component analysis (PCA) on the HS GC/MS data, using the software package R (http://cran.rproject. org/, Tinn-R editor version 2.4.1.5, http://sourceforge.net/ projects/tinn-r/). Odour descriptors were taken from Flavornet by Terry Acree & Heinrich Arn (http://www.flavornet.org, © Datu Inc., 2004) and from The Good Scents Company™ (http://www. thegoodscentscompany.com).

 Antioxidant capacity of Sacoglottis gabonensis fruits

For the antioxidant measurements, 500 mg of fruit slurry (see preparation for headspace analyses) were extracted three times with 10 mL of 70% aceton / 30% water phase. The extraction process included 10 minutes treatment in the ultrasonic bath and 2 min of mixing in a vortex. After evaporation, the residue was solved in 25 mL of water and filtered before analysis using 0.45 μm PET filters (Machery-Nagel, Düren, Germany). The Folin Ciocalteu (FC) reagent assay is measured on a FIAlab-3200 instrument (FIAlab Instruments Inc., U.S.A.) applying a FIA method [17]. The sample (diluted fruit extract) or antioxidant standard (gallic acid) were injected (injection loop 100 μl) into the flow stream (flow rate 30 μl/sec) of the FC reagent (0.2 M concentration). After mixing with sodium hydroxide (0.25 M concentration, flow rate 30 μL/ sec), to raise the solution pH for higher reactivity, dispersion in the reaction coil (1m tubing length) led to a mixing of the components and the reaction product (blue colored metal complexes) was measured photometrically (λ = 765 nm, slit 10 nm). A calibration curve was produced by analysis of gallic acid (GA) standards (gallic acid monohydrate, purity > 99 %, Sigma-Aldrich, SZBB0130V) at 765 nm. A stock solution was prepared by dissolving 50 mg GA in 100 mL degassed water and diluting with degassed water to provide working standard solutions of 10, 20, 30, 40, 50 and 60 ppm. For comparison with other studies, all results were related to the antioxidant activity of gallic acid and presented as gallic acid equivalent (GAE).

 Results and Discussion

Aroma profiles of Sacoglottis gabonensis fruits

Chimpanzees were observed to actively sniff on S. gabonensis fruits prior to eating. Therefore, there have to be volatile cues emitted from the intact fruit that help the apes to judge e.g. its sensory quality and/or ripeness stage. Our analysis was performed on fruit slurry to increase intensities, which possibly takes also into account volatiles that might not be released and perceived from intact fruits (intact exocarp). Further, the protocol used here for sampling and storage of the fruit did only allow analyses of smashed fruits. However, among the detected substances were also typical fruit flavours, which would also be perceived through the intact exocarp.

 Analyzing unripe, ripe and overripe fruits 22 volatile organic compounds (VOCs) were identified in the headspace of the smashed fruit flesh and chosen for characterization of the fruit aroma and for comparison of three maturity stages (Table 1). Only the absolute values of the HS-GC/MS headspace signal intensities from the 22 compounds can be presented here since quantification of headspace volatiles is difficult due to unknown partition coefficients of the volatiles between fruit matrix and headspace. Taking this into account, we applied the highest significance level (p<0.001; 99.9 %) for the decision on flavour differences between the three ripeness stages. In terms of hypothesis testing (Ho: there is no difference between the aroma at different ripeness levels) we strongly reduce the risk for Type I error. Regarding odour evaluation, we use descriptions made by humans. To the best of our knowledge, no such information is available for great apes.

Table 1: Compounds detected with HS-GC/MS in fruits of S. gabonensis at different ripeness stages and their flavor descriptors are presented. Given are mean values of absolute headspace intensities and their standard deviation (SD). Statistical analysis was done with Kruskal Wallis rank sum test. Statistical differences are denoted by small letters after analysis with a post hoc test (p<0.001). The sources for the flavour description are taken from AFlavornet by Terry Acree & Heinrich Arn (http://www.flavornet.org, © Datu Inc., 2004) and BThe Good Scents Company™. (http://www. thegoodscentscompany.com). ***flavour with high odour strength, ** flavor with medium odour strength, description taken from BThe Good Scents Company™.

To read more about this article: https://irispublishers.com/wjass/fulltext/exploring-indicators-of-food-choice-for-chimpanzees.ID.000588.php

Indexing List of Iris Publishers: https://medium.com/@irispublishers/what-is-the-indexing-list-of-iris-publishers-4ace353e4eee

Iris publishers google scholar citations: https://scholar.google.co.in/scholar?hl=en&as_sdt=0%2C5&q=irispublishers&btnG= 

[mdemontespan1667]

In the Flesh

Steve x Reader 

Synopsis: A visitor suddenly appears.

WARNINGS: DUB-CON (JUST IN CASE BUT YOU’LL HAVE TO CROSS BOTH EYES AND SQUINT)/VAGINAL SEX/ORAL SEX/BLOOD AND GORE/VIOLENCE

This is for @little-red-83​ Red’s Spooky Writing Challenge. My prompts were: Demon, Foggy Night and In the Library. Thank you so much for hosting the challenge. Happy Halloween!!!!

You loved this time of year. Summer’s hold had finally broken making way for Autumn. There was a distinct bite of cold to the air. The Oak, Sycamore and Poplar trees lining the river were in the end stages of their fiery glory, their skeletal remains reflected in the ever moving water. A full moon traced across the sky.

Dark came earlier with the changing of time. 

Tonight was particularly eerie. The cold air mass coupled with the slightly warmer water had thrown a thick gauzy shroud of fog over the town. 

Nestled on top of the bluffs the library provided a panoramic view of it all. It shared the land with elaborate homes of long dead river boat captains. Rumor had it that on stormy nights you could see the apparitions of their women pacing the Widow Walks, furtively waiting for a husband who would never come home. 

These spectral wives weren’t the only supernatural inhabitants of the town. The ruins of a Confederate prison and cemetery, century old family tragedies of the wealthy and a rich history of river men and women provided a plethora of fodder.

This time of year was big business. Halloween tours sold out months in advance. Death and it’s correspondent trappings brought tourists from all over the world. 

Built in the 1890’s the library supposedly had its own share of ghosts. Several of your co- workers claimed to have seen floating spirits on the 3rd floor. A few of them refused to work after darkness fell which was just fine with you. You loved having the limestone building to yourself.

You didn't believe in any ghosts or haunts. In the 5 years you had been the head librarian nothing unusual had happened. No books flying from the shelves, no floating revenants. For you the library was a place of solace and comfort. The stacks felt like home.

Tonight was no different. The 3rd floor was your favorite. It was where the oldest books were kept, the newspapers on microfiche, records of the town’s history. This floor had been left out of the recent renovations. It still smelled of dust and days gone by. 

You rarely had to tidy up. No one except for gray haired ladies searching for their ancestors or the occasionally student ventured here. But you climbed the three flights of stairs anyway. It was a habit you had no desire to break. 

As you took the last steps your breath caught in your throat. Books were thrown willy nilly, pages strewn like confetti. The further you went the worse the destruction was. Drops of crimson stained the walls, carpet and floor. 

Why would someone do this. You didn't remember hearing any noise that would have accompanied this. It had to be kids. Halloween pranks were common but never here. You sighed. This would take hours to clean up. Your fiance would not be happy. The two of you had dinner reservations at 8pm. Steve was old fashioned, traditional, and full of expectations for you. Some of his rules were a bit archaic but he was a good man. 

You made your way to the maintenance closet intent on gathering cleaning supplies. As you got closer to the door the paint on the floor became elongated smears. An arc of red flared along the wall. 

Something primal in your gut set off warning bells. Of its’ own accord your hand reached out and turned the knob. Slumped next to the bright yellow mop bucket was the body of a young girl, her throat slit almost to the point of decapitation. Whirling to run your eyes fell on the plaster wall. Rusty crimson words were scrawled across it. Without thinking you spoke the Latin.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The demon stretched her arms. How long had it been. She took a moment before standing to familiarize herself with her new form. Taking possession was always a bit chaotic. Each body had its own way of movement, its mannerisms. Muscle memory had to be overcome to truly take ownership. 

A quick glance proved she was alone. No overzealous hunter, no gaggle of black clad teens, no sad, lonely souls so desperate for love that they would willingly sell their precious souls to her, Lilith, the first demon. 

A window reflected her appearance. It was hard to tell much with the knee length skirt and bulky sweater but the face was pretty enough. She could work with this. 

Turning away her vision was caught by the spell. No wonder no one was here, save for the rapidly cooling corpse. Lilith hadn’t seen this particular incantation since the 13th century when her devotees would release her into a sacrificial host. A night of wanton sex and murder would follow, the women using her as a weapon against those men who had done them harm. But the mortals had always held the power. They sent her back to Hell after her purpose was served.

There was no one to do so now. 

Flicking through her host’s mind the demon bark laughter. This dumb bitch had summoned her by accident. The poor woman hadn’t even had the joy of participating in the ritual. 

“Darling? I’ve been waiting in the car for ten minutes. We’ve talked about this.”

An exaggerated huff floated up the open staircase. 

Lilith smiled.

“I’m up here Steve. I could use some help please.”

His heavy footfalls were filled with displeasure. 

“Our reservations are at 8. Your complete lack of time management is unacceptable.”

Steve hesitated at the last step, the disarray laid out before him.

“What the hell happened here.”

He moved further into the room. 

“Oh Baby. I’m so sorry I’m running late,” Lilith purred.

She strutted towards him, bottom lip pursed out. 

Not used to such brazen behavior from his fiancee, and with a small ounce of fear, Steve backed up, stopping only when his legs hit a table. He fell into a half reclined position. 

With deliberate ease Lilith slowly shimmied out of the skirt, pulling her panties with it. The heavy sweater was next to be discarded, followed by her bra. She grasped Steve’s knees, pushed his legs apart, sandwiching herself between them.

“Let me make it up to you Sweetheart.”

Her hands found his belt buckle. With expert skill she freed his cock, already hard in her hand.

“This is highly,” Steve’s voice hitched, “inappropriate behavior. You need to stop right now.”

“Oh but it doesn't feel like you want me to stop.”

Lilith guided him to her cunt, her fingers overlapping his. 

“Look what you do to me. I’m all wet.”

She circled her clit with Steve’s thumb under hers. Lilith shoved first one then two of Steve's fingers in her tight hole, following with one of hers. 

Arching her back the demon tweaked her nipples in to tight buds. Her lustful moans floated in the air. 

“That’s it Stevie. Be a good boy and make me cum.”

Nerve endings in her clit came alive, spreading through her belly. 

Her hips rocked in time with their intertwined fingers, forcing them deeper. Lilith increased the pressure on Steve’s hand, swiping her clit. 

She reached up and pulled his head to her chest. 

“Use your mouth on my tits sweetheart.”

Steve hesitated for a moment then his mouth closed around her nipples, flicking and sucking. 

The added stimulation set her on fire. Lilith’s head fell back. Her orgasm careened through her, a scream of satisfaction erupting from her lips. 

Lilith dropped to her knees. She coated Steve’s cock with her own release. Her tongue swirled the head, stopping to lick and nibble the long shaft.  

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

She ignored him. Instead Lilith opened her mouth wide and swallowed his cock. Her head bobbed back and forth, taking him deep. 

“Oh God, this is wrong, you, don’t stop.”

Hollowing her mouth the demon doubled her efforts. Saliva flowed down her chin. 

Steve took hold of her head, slamming his cock into her mouth. 

Lilith growled and pulled away.

“I am not submissive to you mortal. I lead here.”

She opened her mouth again and set a lightning pace. Within minutes Steve was throbbing. His shaft shook with the force of the orgasm, cum streaming down her throat. 

With demonic strength Lilith threw Steve to the floor. Her hand pumped his cock, using her magic to get him hard.

Lilith impaled herself on his cock, bracing her hands behind her. She rolled her hips leisurely taking him to the hilt. 

Steve glared at her with a mixture of rage and euphoria.

“You said you were a virgin.”

“I was,” she panted, “just not when I met you.”

Lilith’s hand sought her clit.

“Stupid stupid boy. Did you really think your girl was pure and innocent. I’ve seen the memories. She was a dirty little slut before she moved here.  You would never have been able to satisfy her.”

Finding the sensitive nub Lilith stroked it with two fingers. Around and around she rubbed, the friction of Steve’s cock and her fingers sending her over the edge. Her screech of ecstasy shattered the windows. Tendrils of fog swept in.

Savagely she rode Steve, still playing with her clit. It was raw, screaming from over stimulation. Lifting his hips Steve came, his cum jetting inside her pussy. She followed him, clamping her hips to his pelvis.

Gradually their breathing returned to normal. The smell of sex mixed with that of old books. 

Steve cleared his throat. 

“Uh we’ve missed our reservations but we could still make a late dinner if you're hungry.”

“I’m starving.”

Lilith’s hand punched through his rib-cage, yanking out his heart. Blood sprayed across her face and chest. 

As Steve’s eyes glazed she took a bite of the still beating organ.  

“Good sex always makes me hungry.”

[ableton-live-11-crack-zd]

Download Ableton Live 11 crack (keygen) latest version VA7-

💾 ►►► DOWNLOAD FILE 🔥🔥🔥 It helps the user to modify music tracks by turning them into finished tunes and taking them to the stage. With two sights — the traditional Set up Look at, where musical technology suggestions are set out along a timeline, and the expensive program watch in which you can improvise and also quickly test with musical technology concepts. So, Ableton Live crack download is the best way to activate this application in a secret way. Ableton Live torrent makes it possible to use this software for free. At the point when a Device is Processed, an individual can utilize a soundtrack to play out an assortment of Programs. Ableton Live Composing can be a genuine joy. It is the Pro sound Application altogether intended to assist the client in creating the track proficiently. Ableton Live Suite Key Cracked is the best and powerful music editing, developing, and mixing software. It is one of the professional famous music modifying instruments intended for use in live Enforcement just as for Production this product Prefers by Professional performers and DJs all over the world. It is a paid application that costs a handsome amount. No one can afford it normally. Download this music production now for Windows By Staying in the circulation with a mass of workflow improvements. You can also Perform even more away from the pc with Drive. You can also Build your audio with a curated library. And obtain the unlimited potential of Maximum for Live, built-in seamlessly. For those searching for a collection of electronic instruments, Ableton Live is a great music creation software program that contains dozens of necessary parts such as a sampler, drum devices, and dozens more. The package comes with a flashy software program synth known as Owner, which requires both evident and sonic motivation from classic analog synths. Our just actual protestation is definitely that, like most pro sound apps, Live The step-by-step guidelines were remaining us itching our minds on occasions. But with practically limitless capabilities, Ableton Live Cracked can be one of the fascinating music-production deals on the marketplace today. Key Features: Ableton live has a single-session view for flexible performance, intuitive composition, and improvisation. With unlimited undo music artists can do non-destructive editing and enhancing. Music artists make use of many amounts of organizations to blend with greater versatility. This tool has VST and sound unit support, time signature changes, and multiple automation lanes. Also, a user can import videos and export modified videos or audio also. This device enables you to catch it, and music artists can record equipment synths, drum devices, electric guitars, software program plugins, or any sound from the whole globe. At that time you can catch your MIDI records after playing them and also you can change your unplanned tips into music. There are three versions in the last edition of Live, introduction, suite, and standard. A presentation has got common features while regular and collection hold extra features, results, packages, and devices. Compatible with Windows 10 22H2. Improved and new 74 Effects for processing audio and MIDI, including Hybrid Reverb, Spectral Resonator, Spectral Time, PitchLoop89, Echo, and many more Instant mappings so you can use Live with your keyboards or controller Max for Live to give you even more instruments, effects, and customizations from the Live community, and to let you customize Live yourself This version, Removed a feature that required Shift-clicking to open an AU plug-in editor. Many other improvements and bug fixes.