#Elegant Electrical Solutions

[clariannt]

Discover the transformative power of Clariannt's Blank Switches and Plates. Designed to conceal electrical openings and enhance the aesthetics of your space, our products offer a seamless blend of functionality and style. Whether you're working on a residential or commercial project, Clariannt’s superior quality and elegant designs ensure a polished finish. Explore our range and see how our solutions can make a difference in your electrical setup.

[thesimsideofluca]

Sims 4 Apartment Lobby Override

Tired of the electric blue wallpaper and the outdated concrete floor in the Jasmine Suites lobby? I’ve got the perfect solution for you!

You can download them on my Patreon: [download] Completely free! However, you’ll need to be subscribed to access the file. If you’re not following me yet, it may appear blurred—just hit that follow button, and you’re good to go!

How It Works

This override replaces the default wallpaper and flooring in the Jasmine Suites lobby, giving it an elegant and sofisticated look. Keep in mind that once applied, you won’t be able to use the original wallpapers (electric blue) and flooring (basic concrete) in the game anymore (not that you’d want to, let’s be honest 😂).

Important Note

The Jasmine Suites override affects the default concrete flooring, which is also used in many empty rooms throughout the game. If you’d prefer not to override that, I’ve made it a separate file:

📁 TSSL_Jasmine_Suites_Floor_fibergrain.package

If you’re okay with the Jasmine Suites floor override, download both files and place them in your Mods folder.

If you’d rather keep the default concrete flooring, only download the wallpaper file (without Jasmine Suites floor) and place it in your Mods folder (max one folder deep).

You can always test it out and remove the file if needed!

Requirements

I wanted this override to be accessible to as many Simmers as possible, so:

The wallpaper works with just the base game

The flooring needs Dine Out

You will need City Living to access the apartments.

PLEASE remove any other override that changes the Jasmine Suites Lobby, else it will break/ not show up properly.

Want to take customization even further? I highly recommend using the T.O.O.L mod by @twistedmexi! It allows you to adjust lighting and add furniture pieces to truly make the space your own (just like in the last picture).

Elevator Override

I bet you noticed that in the last image, the elevator goes from that terrible orange color to a stunning black color! Wonder why? Well, I also made an override for that that you can find here or by browsing on my Patreon.

Terms & Conditions

Share freely, but please give credit.

Do not use my files to create your own reshades or overrides (as they break very easily).

DOWNLOAD HERE: [download]

Completely free! However, you’ll need to be subscribed to access the file. If you’re not following me yet, it may appear blurred—just hit that follow button, and you’re good to go!

Happy Simming <3

The Sim Side of Luca

[monstersdownthepath]

Herald of Besmara: Kelpie's Wrath

CR 15

Chaotic Neutral Colossal Outsider

Adventure Path: Skulls and Shackles: The Wormwood Mutiny, pg. 86-87

When one thinks of Besmara they likely think of "piracy," but her other two areas of concern are 'strife' and 'sea monsters.' One may thus believe that Besmara's Herald may be a powerful pirate captain, or perhaps an intelligent sea beast which either inhabits or commands a vessel. The most visionary may believe that Besmara's Herald could be nothing less than a whole crew of people running an enchanted ship! So when a mysterious fog rolls in and the lights of a ship that wasn't there alight from nowhere, the party may be tempted to look towards the helm, or the prow, or perhaps even the crow's nest to try and spot who's commanding the intimidating galleon... only for the skull at the front to tell you to quit eyein' its aft like some kind of pervert.

Indeed, Besmara has an elegant solution to the problem of what her Herald would look like. It's not a crew on a ship, or a sea monster, or a singular captain, it's a ship made of a sea monster which captains itself and utilizes a crew of zombie sailors when needed. Despite it's skeletal appearance and ghoulish powers, the Kelpie's Wrath is as alive as any demon or dragon, though it can passably imitate the feared ghost ships which haunt the seas at night, able to conjure ghostly lights (Dancing Lights), fearful sights (Major Image), and zombie fights (summoning a crew of up to 20 draugr) seemingly at a whim and wielding terrifying, spectral weapons and even whole ghostly creatures as though they were limbs. Many crews who've found themselves in its sights mistakenly believe its illusions and conjured zombies to be the real threats, unaware that the ship itself is their true enemy... and even if they did, it's unlikely to help.

Have you ever fought an enemy that was its own stage hazard? You don't want to, especially if that enemy can Plane Shift or Teleport with you in tow... or just immediately dive underwater. Though you have to fail a DC 18 Will save to be shanghai'd into another plane, having a ship suddenly teleport out from under you or dive a hundred feet underwater and drag you behind it is a real danger regardless of the situation, and it puts you at a huge disadvantage if you can't immediately clamber back aboard YOUR ship, fly, or walk on water. And if the phantom ship resurfaces right next to you...

Actually, what am I talking about? "If?" No, when. It's a pirate in service to the Queen of Pirates, and pirates are quite famous for never fighting fair. If you find yourselves prey to the Kelpie's Wrath, it's going to use every trick it has in the most underhanded ways it can. Let's take a look at what that entails...

We'll start with the obvious: It's an entire ship. Nearly a hundred feet long and hovering around 25 to 30 feet wide, the Wrath is a battlefield unto itself, but you absolutely do not want to stand on it to fight, because that's just asking for a terrible death. Engaging it from afar means you 'only' have to deal with its 40ft space and 30ft reach, denoting which part of itself it's focusing on defending, which is still a radius that covers most traditional battle maps entirely. Because you're only ever going to be encountering the Wrath on the high seas (regardless of what world or plane those seas are on), staying out of its reach is practically impossible unless you're using Pathfinder's rules for ship combat to engage it with a vessel of your own (WARNING: Do Not Do This), and you will inevitably be forced into melee with it... and then, unfortunately, forced onto it, which as previously mentioned is almost certain doom.

Everything within the Wrath's threat radius is subject to its trio of incorporeal touch attacks, which manifest as immense clawed hands, ghostly weapons, spectral sailors, and skeletal sea beasts of ages past, each one raking over the ship's target for 3d6 untyped damage plus 3d6 Electricity AND 3d6 Fire damage. The primary danger presented by these phantoms is that the party may not immediately know what's going on or recognize just how the attack works; the Wrath can conjure a crew of draugr to fight atop it AND it can use Major Image at any point within its reach, letting it clutter up the battlefield with obstacles which present no true danger to the party but which it can use as vectors for its incorporeal attacks, potentially making a party member out uselessly against illusions, insubstantial phantoms, and inconsequential minions.

Muddying the waters further, Wrath can use Seeming 3/day to swath its draugr sailors in magical disguises to make them appear more important than they truly are. Able to communicate telepathically, the ship can give complex orders to its entire crew at once to run baffling distractions or attack in tandem with it to make them seem like true threats, a tactic especially useful if the party doesn't yet recognize the ship is alive (or foolishly believes that only the skeletal figurehead is alive). Kelpie's Wrath thrives on sowing confusion when it attacks, and a DM would do well to remember that, describing its attacks and abilities in terms which feel ambiguous, like they could be coming from anywhere, like that one fancy draugr at the ship's helm that's dressed up like the captain or the strange balls of light dancing along its sails.

Even if the party feels like something is wrong, they'll have to go with their gut on this one; magic is unreliable when fighting the vile ship. Not because of any aura or unique ability it has, but because its space/reach means it can make extremely good use of its Disruptive and Spellbreaker feats, the former making it more difficult to cast spells defensively while in its threat radius (which is everywhere), the latter provoking Attacks of Opportunity if you fail the check to cast defensively.

Its touch attacks aren't just bad because of the damage, either. Being hit with two or more of them in a round lets it Keelhaul the unfortunate victim, repositioning them as a free action. Now, a reposition is a Combat Maneuver, which means it has to roll a CMB check versus the target's CMD. The average CMD of a 10th level Human Fighter is hovering anywhere between 25 and 35 depending on if they dumped Dex (WARNING: Do Not Do This) or got ahold of Str boosting items, and let's see what the Kelpie's Wrath has for its CMB...

+41?!

ah, right, Colossal size. This thing can juggle most players. Hope your party cohesion didn't rely on people being in specific positions!

In case you're not sure how the maneuver works: if you're repositioned, the attacker can shunt you into another space so long as that space is A) Within their reach, and B) within 5ft of your previous space... but for every 5 points the attacker's CMB check beats your CMD, that's another 5ft of movement. Now, remember how gigantic the Wrath's threat radius is? That's a LOT of potential spaces you can be shuttled into, and every 5ft you're moved from its Keelhaul you take an additional 1d6 damage because it's literally using your face to scrape barnacles and algae off itself. Keelhaul is an especially potent ability if used on the high seas, because the ability specifically states that it can use its repositions to drag victims underwater, forcing them into the ever-dreaded underwater combat scenario. Even if you've got Water Walk or Fly on, it can still shove you right into the drink if it beats your CMD by enough, forcing you to waste precious time getting back into the fight... if only to push you back down again, because pirates don't fight fair.

Also, Keelhaul specifically states "a creature hit with two or more of its attacks in 1 round," meaning AoOs and other off-turn attacks count. If you take one hit during its turn and then get schmacked because you triggered Spellbreaker or its Combat Reflexes, you're going into the soup.

If it doesn't want a victim in the sea, it also has the option to shove creatures directly into the center of its space, at which point victims are automatically dragged into its cargo hold and battered by treasure and captured supplies. This is treated as the swallow whole ability, victims taking 1d10+7 damage until they can get out, but it's not especially obvious what's going on, meaning players might waste their time trying to find an exit door out of the cargo hold or try to clamber back out the unyielding door when the 'proper' solution is to make a new door.

If the party manages to find out that swinging at the phantom limbs and illusions is useless, attacking the ship below their feet isn't exactly easy. The Kelpie's Wrath is magically reinforced, having an AC of 30 (hint: target its measly 6 touch AC) and DR 10/Lawful. It's got 30 Resistance to Acid, Cold, and Electricity, as well as 10 Fire Resistance and, of course, if you find yourselves managing to get past its defenses to outpace its Fast Healing 10, it can still suddenly poof away to rebuild, and if you think you can just use Dimensional Anchor or similar, it can still pop its once-per-minute Rush to crank its swim speed from 60ft to 150ft for one round, diving to the sea floor in a single round to give itself breathing room... and potentially taking breathing room from whatever schmucks are trapped in its hold.

And you know what? I've typed down... 12 entire paragraphs without even touching the Wrath's ranged options. This was on purpose! Because the Wrath is meant to get right up next to the ship it's attacking, and has every tool it needs to do so, including the ability to turn itself and its crew invisible 3/day or shroud its entire space with magical fog. Compared to all the shenanigans it can pull to get into melee and then make everyone wish it didn't, its ranged attacks need a little more preparation and math on the part of the DM, something they may not want to do on top of everything else it's already got. This is because its only ranged attack is using Telekinesis to hurl a storm of whatever garbage it's amassed at targets within 180ft of itself.

The Wrath can catapult up to 375 pounds of objects or creatures in a single action, not only allowing it to throw actual ammunition (which deals a flat 1d6 damage per 25 lbs; max 15d6 for a full weight object), but whatever it may have on hand or in its hold that it doesn't especially value. Since it can use Telekinesis at will and the spell itself has a tremendous range, there's no reason for it to ever run out of ammo, as it can simply dredge stones and wreckage from the sea floor and ferry it into its stores for later... but of course, there's nothing stopping it from using its enemies own cargo against it, or even lifting its enemies directly and throwing them around with nothing more than a thought. Most Medium-sized Humanoids weigh between 150 and 200 pounds, letting the Wrath snatch up two people at a time to toss around like ragdolls, including straight into the air if it wants.

There's something to be said about it hurling things far more dangerous than bricks and cannonballs, though, like casks of oil and a lantern, or barrels of Green Slime, or its own zombie crewmates. The Long range of Telekinesis also means it can get up to some pretty dangerous shenanigans if an enemy ship gets just a little too close, as it can pilfer cargo from a range, loose sails, send weapons hurling into the seas, or even spin cannons around just as they're about to fire if it readies an action to do so. Much like its phantom weapons, its telekinetic power helps make its illusions and zombie sailors all the more realistically threatening, adding to the confounding puppet show it puts on to throw people off.

The Kelpie's Wrath is one of the most dangerous Heralds a party to encounter, because they're going to encounter it on the seas (one of the most dangerous environments to fight in), AND they're not likely to even know it's nearby until it's dragging their crew to a watery grave. Even if they do, a DM can play up the possibility of it being a ghost ship for a while before any of them wise up to what they're really fighting, by which point someone might already be neatly folded and packed away in Davey Jones' Locker. It's not only dangerous for what it can do, but why it does what it does; most Heralds are only encountered if a god is offended, or has sent them on an important mission, but the Kelpie's Wrath freely wanders all creation in its off hours, attacking vessels with wild and greedy abandon. It's one of the few Heralds that an unlucky party may just randomly encounter, and thus have no possible way to prepare for.

You can read more about it here.

[commodorez]

Do you have a favourite rotary telephone?

Excellent question!

Yes, I have a favorite:

The Northern Electric Pyramid phone from about 1935. I had this on my desk at my old job, tied into the telephone system. Its distinctive ring made it really easy to discern if I was the one being called instead of my coworkers. The chrome dial and the area code indicate that this unit came from Canada.

Coming in second place is my Northern Telecom 500-style set with official Commodore branding -- also from Canada. These were sold with VICMODEMs in a special bundle exclusively in the Canadian market. The VICMODEM requires that you detach the cord from the handset, plug it directly into the modem, then dial for the computer.

Problem is that you can't do that here, because the handset cord is permanently attached! Solution? The little white adapter box called the VIC 1605. Very hard to find, but I found one.

Coming in third place would be the Contempra from Northern Electric/Telecom from 1967 (why do these keep being Canadian?). Beautiful colors, angles. Great phone, but sadly I don't have one. Atleast not one like this... NT made these into lineman's test sets (commonly called butt sets because they hang on a lineman's belt by their butt/you use them to butt-in to a call when testing things).

I bought one and turned it into the NT2017 Rotary Cellphone, a real working 2G cellular telephone. It's got an Adafruit Fona board inside with an Atmel 32U4 microcontroller, a little screen, and zero ability to send/receive text messages. It didn't work very well, but it was really fun to build and use before it broke. Construction was very fragile, and my code running it was hot garbage. Since the discontinuation of 2G cell service, it's just decorative at this point.

The last one of my favorites is one I certainly don't have: a late 19th century Skeleton Telephone from Ericsson. Technically not a rotary phone, but it does have a crank that you rotate!

These are expensive, really hard to find, and obviously rather difficult to use without having an operator to ring up when you turn the crank. However, they are stunningly beautiful, and all of the functionality is on display arranged in such a way to accentuate the elegance of its industrial design.

How about you? Do you have a favorite rotary phone?

[detectivehole]

i use someone's old senior design project in my electrical lab and i think my favorite activity is seeing how idiot proof it is. so far the answer is "very" bc if you do anything it doesn't like it just turns itself off which is a very simple yet elegant solution

[commercialfencesolutionsinpe]

Top Commercial Fence Solutions in Peoria for Business Security and Curb Appeal

When running a business in Peoria, IL, security, privacy, and professional appearance are essential. A well-designed commercial fence not only protects your property but also reinforces your brand’s image. Whether you're managing a construction site, office complex, manufacturing plant, or retail space, the right fencing solution can make a significant difference.

Benefits of Installing a Commercial Fence in Peoria

Business owners in Peoria are increasingly investing in commercial fencing for reasons beyond basic security. Here are some top advantages:

1. Enhanced Security

Protect valuable inventory, equipment, and assets from theft or vandalism. A properly installed fence creates a clear physical barrier and deters unauthorized access.

2. Improved Privacy

Some commercial operations require discretion. Fencing with privacy panels or slats helps shield sensitive areas from public view.

3. Controlled Access

Add automated gates or keypad entry systems to restrict access and monitor who enters and exits your property.

4. Professional Appearance

First impressions matter. A clean, well-maintained commercial fence adds credibility and visual appeal to your property.

5. Compliance with Local Regulations

Many Peoria zoning ordinances require proper enclosures for certain commercial activities. A local fence contractor can ensure your fence meets city codes and guidelines.

Popular Commercial Fence Types in Peoria

Not all fences are created equal. Depending on your industry and property type, one of the following options might be ideal:

Chain Link Fences: Affordable, strong, and widely used for utility yards, factories, and sports complexes.

Ornamental Steel or Aluminum Fences: Stylish and secure — ideal for professional offices, schools, and government buildings.

Vinyl Fencing: Great for commercial plazas and apartment complexes; offers a clean, modern look with minimal upkeep.

Wood Fences: Often used for restaurants, daycare centers, and outdoor venues needing a natural, warm appearance.

Custom Security Fences: High-security fencing with razor wire, anti-climb mesh, or electric gate systems for sensitive facilities.

Working With a Peoria Commercial Fence Contractor

Choosing the right contractor is just as important as selecting the right fence. In Peoria, a top-tier commercial fencing company will offer:

Free on-site evaluations

Customized fencing plans to match your business needs

High-quality materials built to last through Illinois weather

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Long-term warranties and maintenance support

Be sure to work with a licensed, insured, and locally experienced fencing provider familiar with Peoria’s business zones and regulations.

Keep Your Investment Protected

After installation, routine inspections and repairs are key. Many fencing contractors in Peoria also offer:

Emergency repair services

Gate automation tune-ups

Fence painting, sealing, or cleaning

Replacement of damaged panels or hardware

Regular maintenance extends your fence’s life and keeps your property looking sharp.

Final Thoughts

Your commercial fence is more than just a boundary — it’s part of your business's identity and security infrastructure. From functional chain link fencing to elegant ornamental options, Peoria businesses have access to a wide range of fencing solutions to suit every need.

Ready to Fence In Your Business?

Partner with a trusted commercial fence installer in Peoria and take the first step toward a safer, more polished business property today.

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 8

As you pull up to the address Adam sent, you're greeted by the same polished elegance that defines the rest of Heaven. Stepping inside, the interior is a symphony of white and silver, every surface gleaming with a sparkly sheen. Despite only using one rehearsal room, Adam booked the whole building. You weren’t sure if he always did it, or if it’s only a today-thing to impress you…

You navigate the halls until eventually, you come upon the door to the booked room, and you knock lightly, expecting Adam to answer. To your surprise, the door swings open to reveal a man who looks taken aback by your presence.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, we’ve actually booked this room–”

Before he can finish, Adam breezes in with his characteristic charm, bumping the man aside with a playful hip-check.

"Hey babes!" Adam's voice rings out, filled with warmth and affection as he holds the door open for you. His touch is electric as he places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the room with a sense of gentleness that surprises you. “Back off, Marsh. I invited them. No need to be a dickhole.”

As Adam asserts his dominance in his usual flamboyant manner, you can't help but notice the reactions of his bandmates. Their raised eyebrows and knowing glances suggest something you don’t know. Marsh, who you now see holding a bass, offers a placating gesture as if to diffuse any potential tension.

“Sorry man,” Marsh starts, “you’ve just never invited anyone to our band practice. You've always said it was a closed rehearsal. Unless… is this a new backup singer or something?”

“Depends. Do they wanna be?” As Adam poses his question– joking or not– you feel his band’s eyes all on you. Clearly, they weren’t used to witnessing Adam’s flirting. Or something. That’s the only possible solution you have. Though, there’s something on the tip of your tongue, and you’re unsure what.

However, at the thought of singing in front of all of heaven, you blanche, already embarrassed at the mere suggestion of it.. “Yeah no thanks.”

Adam shrugs. “Sucks to suck.”

As the silence stretches on, the band continuing setting up, you can feel the awkwardness settling in, making your palms clammy with nerves. With no direction from Adam, you find yourself fidgeting nervously, unsure of what to do next.

"Sooooo, where do I sit?" you finally ask, the words tumbling out in a rush as you try to break the tension that hangs in the air. Despite your best efforts to appear nonchalant, you can't shake the feeling of discomfort that gnaws at the edges of your consciousness.

Adam obnoxiously drags a chair to position it right in front of him, mere feet away, you can't help but roll your eyes at his audacity. It's a move that reeks of ego, and you find yourself resisting the urge to sigh in exasperation.

Unimpressed by his antics, you take matters into your own hands and drag the chair back to a more reasonable distance. Adam's smug expression quickly gives way to a pout, and despite your irritation, you can't help but maybe, sort of, kinda find his reaction endearing.

Curse you, Aeson, for putting ideas into your head!

With a soft huff, you settle into your seat, your gaze lingering on Adam's masked face with a mixture of frustration and curiosity. If only he’d take it off…

“Alright fellas, we have an audience member we have to impress.” Adam declares. You hide a giggle and he looks downright pleased at the attention. However, as Adam's bandmates share a knowing look among themselves, you catch the subtle exchange and can't help but wonder what they're thinking. It’s frustrating, like witnessing a confusing inside joke. “Let’s make this one count!”

As the band begins their performance, you can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu settling over the room. The music flows with familiar precision, each note echoing the previous rendition with uncanny accuracy. It's as if time has looped back on itself, playing the exact same performance as the other two concerts.

Your confusion mounts with each passing moment, and it's clear that Adam senses your bewilderment. With a glance in your direction, he calls the song to a sudden stop, bringing the performance to an abrupt halt.

“What’s wrong? You look like you have a dick in your ass, and not in a good way. Like it’s un-lubed. No prep. No–”

“Alright yes, I understand what you're saying. I’m just… your concerts are always the same. It gets kind of… repetitive?”

The gasps from Adam's bandmates draw your attention, and you turn to see their stunned expressions mirrored on their faces. Their collective gaze then shifts to Adam, expecting the fiery anger or frustration that might typically accompany such a comment. However, what they find instead is unexpected—a vulnerable hurt etched across Adam's features.

The sight takes you aback, as well as his bandmates. The vulnerability in Adam's expression is a stark departure from his usual bravado, and it leaves you feeling a pang of sympathy for him. You’re unsure of how to respond to his uncharacteristic display of emotion.

“You don’t like it anymore?” Adam asks, almost challenging you.

"No, no, no, not that!" you interject quickly, your voice tinged with urgency as you try to clarify. It feels like you're walking on eggshells.

"It's just—" you begin, searching for the right words to convey your thoughts without further escalating the situation.

"Just what?" Adam's tone is sharp, his frustration evident as he demands an explanation. The hurt in his expression is now mingled with anger, and you can feel the weight of his expectations bearing down on you.

"Boring? A snoozefest?" he continues, his words laced with bitterness. "Ever heard the term 'don't fix what ain't broken'?"

The accusation stings, and you find yourself struggling to respond.

It feels like you're tiptoeing around a frightened animal, trying to approach with caution to avoid causing further harm. You can't help but wish for Aeson's calming presence, knowing that he would have a much better grasp on navigating this delicate situation.

"It's not that, Adam," you repeat, your voice soft and gentle as you try to convey your feelings without causing further distress. "It's just... so unlike you."

Adam's genuine confusion catches you off guard, his earlier anger dissipating as he struggles to comprehend your explanation.

"So you don't like it... because it's not like me?" Adam repeats, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he tries to make sense of your words.

You hesitate, grappling with the nuances of his question. His wording feels a bit off, but you can sense the sincerity behind it. After a moment of contemplation, you nod slowly, acknowledging the truth in his statement.

Adam's reaction leaves you feeling uncertain, unsure of what exactly has passed through his mind. His expression morphs into one of contemplation, as if he's grappling with a newfound understanding. “Oh.”

You can't help but notice the lines on his mask, wondering briefly if they're supposed to represent blush marks or if they're simply scratches that you're only just now noticing. The thought distracts you momentarily, but Adam's next words pull you back to the present.

"Well then, I gotta fix that, don't I?" Adam's voice is lighter now, raised by a newfound sense of… happiness? There's definitely a spark in his eyes that wasn't there before.

Adam's bandmates nod along, their actions reflecting a sense of familiarity with agreeing to whatever Adam wants. He rounds his attention to the mic-stand, avoiding eye contact with you. He’s probably just embarrassed from his earlier outburst.

“In the meantime, we’ll continue our private concert the same. Next time you see me perform, baby, you’ll love it. Capiche?”

You nod.

"That's what I like to hear, bitch! Alright, places!" Adam declares, his voice filled with enthusiasm as he rallies his bandmates to continue the performance. It’s still the exact same, so you take the time to ogle Adam.

[lingshanhermit]

Lingshan Hermit: Are You Relying on Vajradhara or Money-dhara?

In Tibet, every long-established Buddhist lineage has its own refuge field. The refuge field encompasses the images of all masters from the Dharmakaya Buddha to the Sambhogakaya Buddha to the human lineage holders, all the way to the most recent patriarch. On thangkas depicting the refuge field, you can see these lineage masters with calm gazes and elegant demeanors arranged according to their historical distance, appearing either far or near on the thangka. You can also see noble beings of both Mahayana and Hinayana traditions, as well as various deities and protectors. Some refuge fields have Guru Padmasambhava at the center, while others feature the deep blue Vajradhara. As lineage disciples, we prostrate to the refuge field, regarding them as our ultimate source of protection and support.

Although we prostrate to them daily, pray to them, and recite their prayers, do we truly believe in them? Do we truly believe they can protect us and solve all our problems? Do we truly believe they possess extraordinary powers? I have my doubts about this. From my observations, many people I've met haven't truly taken refuge in the Buddha, Guru Rinpoche, or Vimalamitra. Instead, they've taken refuge in dollars, power, and modern technology. Every day, they contemplate how to earn more money or which new Sichuan restaurant has opened, rather than how to attain enlightenment quickly. When they encounter problems, their first reaction is never to pray to their guru; instead, they think about checking Xiaohongshu (Red Book) for solutions or finding someone who can help. Perhaps only as a last resort would they think to seek help from their guru or the Three Jewels. This is their genuine and natural reaction, indicating what they truly believe in—money, power, and modern technology. So if they were honest with themselves, they should replace Guru Rinpoche at the center of their refuge field with dollars and a MacBook Pro, and replace Vajradhara with "Money-dhara."

Your behavior is an extension of your true values. Where you spend most of your time shows what you consider most important. Whom you first think to seek when you encounter problems indicates whom you consider most capable and reliable. And what you consider most important and powerful reveals your true values and merit. If you truly believe that those smiling buddhas, bodhisattvas, and lineage masters in the thangka are extraordinarily powerful, you would certainly think of them first when facing difficulties. If you don't believe they are powerful, don't believe they are the most powerful in the entire universe, don't believe they are incomparable, then the quality of your prayers and refuge is highly questionable.

But don't misunderstand me as criticizing this phenomenon. I have no such intention. Your perception is determined by your merit; what kind of perception you have depends on the abundance of your merit. Criticism cannot increase your merit, much less change your perception. Changing perception is a lengthy process. It requires long-term guru-disciple interaction and the confluence of various causes and conditions. I never fantasize that someone will immediately change their mind after reading my article. Between us lies a vast ocean of merit; for most people, even understanding is unlikely, let alone transformation.

Moreover, living in modern society, you must acknowledge the importance of money. If you want to attend an empowerment ceremony in Nepal, you need money for airfare and hotels. You need to pay monthly rent to your landlord, buy dresses, hairpins, toner, and electric toothbrushes for your girlfriend, give some to your parents, and make offerings. All these require money. Most people's merit is only sufficient to see the benefits money brings but not enough to see its harm. So don't pretend you don't love money; don't pretend money isn't important to you. Especially don't pretend you now love Guru Rinpoche and Yeshe Tsogyal more. If you believe money or power is more important, it's because your understanding of samsara is still superficial, your merit is still insufficient, you don't comprehend how powerful these lineage masters are, and you don't know that only they can truly help you. That's why you think this way. This is your authentic perception at this stage. You need not feel ashamed of this, nor should you pretend otherwise.

Only when you have accumulated sufficient merit, when your life experience is rich enough, when you begin to slowly understand samsara, when you begin to understand that everyone is suffering, that everyone is hiding their pain and pretending to be happy, that behind everyone's glamorous appearance are countless anxieties gnawing at them—only when you have seen enough people's lives, seen them build tall buildings, host grand banquets, seen their buildings collapse, seen their efforts to pursue happiness fail one by one, seen them ultimately gain nothing—will you develop greater trust and reliance on the noble beings in the refuge field. Only then will you know that money, power, or Novartis Pharmaceuticals cannot solve your problems; in fact, they only bring more problems. Most people who believe money can solve problems are those who don't have much money. So they mistakenly think these problems will disappear once they have money. But this is merely their wishful fantasy.

Written by Lingshan Hermit on September 26, 2024. First published on April 1, 2025.

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灵山居士：你依止的是金刚总持还是金钱总持

在西藏，每一个历史悠久的佛法传承都有自己的皈依境，皈依境囊括了从法身佛到报身佛到人间祖师一直到最近的那位祖师的形象。在绘有皈依境的唐卡上，你能看到这些眼神淡然举止优雅的传承祖师们按照年代的久远程度或远或近地逐一呈现在唐卡上，你还能看到大小乘的圣者，以及各种本尊和各种护法神。有些皈依境的中间是莲花生大士，有些则是深蓝色的金刚总持。作为传承弟子，我们会向皈依境做礼拜，以他们为我们最终的依止护佑处。

虽然我们每天都在礼拜他们，都在向他们祈祷，都在念诵他们的祈祷文，但我们真的相信他们吗？真的相信他们���保护我们能解决我们的所有问题吗？我们真的相信他们具有超强的能力？对此我很怀疑。我见过的很多人，从我对他们的观察来看，他们真正皈依的不是佛陀不是莲师、不是无垢友，他们皈依的是美元权力和现代科技产品，他们每天在琢磨的是怎么挣更多的钱哪里新开了个川菜馆而不是如何尽快成佛。假如他们遇到事情，他们的第一个反应也绝不是祈祷上师，他们想的是上小红书看看有没有解决办法，或是有没有认识的人可以帮助解决。可能到最后他们才会想到还可以向上师三宝求助。这是他们真实而自然的反应，这表示他们真正相信的是这些——是金钱权力和现代科技。所以如果他们对自己诚实的话，他们其实应该把皈依境中间的莲师换成美元和MacBook Pro，把金刚总持换成金钱总持。

你的行为是你真实价值观的延伸，你在什么地方花的时间最多，就表示你觉的什么东西最重要。你遇到事情第一个想到要找谁解决，表示在你的眼里这个人的能力最强最可靠。而你觉的最重要最厉害的东西，则展示了你真实的价值观和福德。如果你真觉得唐卡里那些微笑的佛菩萨祖师超级厉害，你遇到事情肯定会第一个想到他们。假如你不觉得他们很厉害，不觉得他们是全宇宙最厉害的，不觉得他们无与伦比，那么你的祈祷和皈依质量就非常堪忧。

但是不要误以为我是在批判这种现象。我完全没有这种意图。你的认知是由你的福德决定的，你有什么样的认知取决于你的福德多寡，而批判并不能使你的福德增长，更加不可能改变你的认知。改变认知是个漫长的过程。需要长期的师徒互动需要各种因缘具足才可能发生。我从来不幻想有人看了我的文章就能马上改变想法。我们之间隔着巨大的福德海，对大多数人而言，看懂都不太可能，更何况是改变。

而且生在现代社会，你必须承认金钱的重要性。如果你要去尼泊尔参加灌顶法会，你需要钱买机票住旅店，你要每月要缴钱给房东，要给女朋友买裙子发卡爽肤水和电动牙刷，要给父母一些，还要去做供养。这些都需要钱。大部分人的福德都只够让他们看到金钱所带来的好处而不够让他们看到它的坏处。所以不要假���自己不爱钱，不要假装钱对你不重要。更不要假装自己现在更爱莲师和依西措嘉。你认为钱或是权力更重要，那是因为你对轮回的认识还很粗浅，你的功德还很不够，你不了解这些传承祖师有多大能耐，也不知道真正能帮你的只有他们。所以你才会这么认为。这是你现阶段的真实认知。你完全无需为此惭愧。更加不必假装自己不是这样。

只有当你累积的功德足够多的时候，你的人生经验也足够丰富，你开始慢慢了解轮回，开始了解到每一个人都在受苦，了解到每一个人都在隐藏自己的痛苦假装快乐，了解每个人风光的背后都有无数的烦恼噬咬，只有在你看了足够多的人的人生，看到他们起高楼、看到他们宴宾客、看到他们楼塌了，看到他们追逐快乐的努力逐一失败，看到他们最终一无所获，你才会对皈依境里的圣众生起更大的信任和依止心，才会知道金钱、权力或是诺华制药解决不了你的问题，事实上它们只会带来更多的问题。大多数相信钱能解决问题的人都是没什么钱的人。所以他们误以为只要有钱这些问题就会消失。但这只是他们一厢情愿的幻想。

灵山居士写于2024年9月26日。首发于2025年4月0日。

[plethora-of-imagines]

Hello there.

I hope you're having a fantastic weekend. If it's alright with you I would like to request a dhawan!master (or delgado!master) where both them and the reader are trapped in a place and both of them can't leave. The master won't leave the reader and the reader won't leave the master. So the master comes. with the idea to shrink the reader to the size of a bratz/barbie doll (Maybe they've been working on this for a while incase the day came where he needed it) so he can get them both out and the reader agrees trusting him with their life and the fact that it will be reversed once they're both safe.

I hope you have a great week and if you're not comfortable then feel free to ignore:)

“Now,” the guard looked back and forth between the two cells that held you and the Master. 

Separated so that you “couldn’t cause any trouble”.

“We have come to an agreement to allow one of you to leave. And have been generous enough to allow the two of you to choose. So you both have ten minutes to determine who is leaving and to have that person walk out this door,” with his electric baton he gestured to the side door. “There is someone on the other side who will ensure that it is just one of you so don’t try any funny business.”

As the guard closed the door behind him on the other side of the small prison the cell doors clicked open.

You wasted no time leaving the cell to rush to the Master’s side.

“Okay, so you leave, grab the TARDIS, and come back for me. Problem solved.”

“While normally a perfect plan, my dear, this prison is equipped with a form of teleportation interference that would stop the TARDIS from being able to materialize within this room. Rendering that plan useless.”

He spoke with a calm elegance. Why would he be telling you this? You were willing to let him leave without any fuss. Yet he told you that he couldn’t come back for you. No.

“No,” you voiced your thoughts aloud. “You can’t possibly expect me to leave you here.”

“And I refuse to leave you, my dear. Leaving us at an impasse as they would say.”

Pressing your head into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. Oh god, the situation was very bad if he was willingly showing such prolonged affection where anyone could see. He was letting you seek comfort from him. 

Both of you were trying to silently think of a solution.

“There is a possible solution,” he begrudgingly offered after a minute of quiet reflection.

“But you don’t like it.”

“It would not even be an option if the situation were not so dire,” he admitted. “It is not fully perfected yet. It may take some time to change you back.”

“Change me back from what, Master?”

“My dear, you understand the basic premise of how the TCE works, correct?”

You nodded along in subdued horror.

“I have been working on a new method in which the affected survive the process. It would be a valuable tool to be able to sneak anyone out of anywhere as a hostage.”

Stomach turning you asked, “what part of the process is not perfected?”

Recognizing your complete terror his hands cradled your skull, lips pressing softly to your forehead in reverence. 

“My dear, I did not mean to frighten you! The process is painless and works every time. The only flaw in the process is returning people to their original size! The mechanism does not alway work so it may take me time to return you to your original size.”

Taking a deep breath to solidify your resolve and reduce your nerves, you agreed.

He took the TCE and with a simple kiss to your lips, started to shrink you. 

It didn’t hurt. But everything tingled, like all your limbs had fallen asleep. The rapid change in the size of everything made the room blur. Closing your eyes to avoid the nausea that was building up. When the sensations stopped you slowly opened your eyes.

Everything was so big now. The Master towered above you, you were barely able to see his face with how small you were. Blurry and hazy like the top of a distant mountain.  Against your will tears filled your eyes as how vulnerable you were hit you. He could kill you, by pure accident like this. Just by taking a single step.

Clinging to his finger when he picked you up, hiccuping and sniffling from the stress. You allowed him to gently hold your body in his hand. He tried to speak to you but in your distress it sounded like nonsense. 

Slowly he slid you into his shirt pocket and everything went dark. The lack of stimulation soothed you, allowing for you to calm down. No longer overwhelmed, you let the steady walking of the Master rock you into dozing lightly.  You would be demanding cuddles once this was all over.

(717 words)

[tenselyloudvisitor]

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[indigovenomecho]

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[shashankcreation]

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[luna-wing-cns274]

I see your railguns and raise you a coilgun

< “Raise me?” Hm. I don’t know about that. >

Drone view from the side of Hachi’s fighter, silhouetted against the black of space and the gentle curve of a planet far below. Holoprojected onto the over-under configured tines of her railgun, Hachi’s avatar lounges against the nose of her fighter. She dangles one paw over the side of the cannon’s barrel, and her tail swishes lazily at her side.

Her presence provides a sense of scale. The weapon is comparable in size and design to the familiar model packaged with the Death’s Head license, but with robust, EVA-grade radiant heat dispersal systems fitted on the exposed section. Most of the barrel is housed inside the fighter’s core frame, and the two rails of the exposed section are bound together by cermet ribs.

< Coilguns are fine. Multi-stage electromagnets are reliable, they’re low-wear, there’s a lot you can do with them. Complicated, kinda bulky. Rugged, though. I respect the preference.

Railguns, though? >

Hachi sighs, running her clawed fingers along the barrel. The resultant sound is simulated, of course, and clearly for effect rather than realism. A clear, metallic note, the peal of a bell, which tapers down into a sustained, vibrato ringing.

< They’re beautiful. Current in, force out.

At the risk of sounding all SSC about it: clean and elegant. The power-translation packs aren’t exactly light, of course, but the architecture is about as simple as it gets. A few variable-charge reservoirs of pure current, ready to discharge on command. >

She rises and strides down the length of the barrel, glancing down at a storm system swirling across the atmosphere of the planet below. Behind her, she leaves a trail of emerald paw prints which dissolve, one after another, a few moments after appearing.

< “But, Hachi,” you might be saying, “that’s cool and all, but what about friction? What about electrical resistance? Waste heat, component wear, contact surface erosion? A few shots at max power, and you’re going to end up having to swap that entire barrel out mid-mission.”

And you’d be right! Those are serious problems, but there are solutions.

This is where things get a little bit SSC-proprietary, stuff that usually gets packaged with the Death’s Head. If I knew precisely how it worked, I’d tell you, but at that point I’d probably be a research NHP, not a pilot. >

Stooping down at the end of the barrel, Hachi beckons to the camera drone. It follows her, zooming in on the terminals at the railgun muzzle as she points to various components and begins to explain.

< As normal, our munitions use a sabot armature as a casing for the actual projectile, and only the sabot comes into direct contact with the rails. When one is loaded into the breech of the gun, the loading mechanism applies a layer of some kinda EXMAT supermaterial to the sabot, which fills the intervening space between it and the rails like a lubricant. When the gun fires, the stuff reacts to the current, hardens, and fractures as the sabot starts to accelerate. When it does so, it forms a damn near frictionless contact surface as the sabot travels down the rails.

We lose so little of this material with each shot that we only need to print more of it once every few years. Waste heat is still a problem, especially in vacuum, but this cuts down on a lot of the heat and friction damage you’d expect to see.

End result: we can put these things through their paces and get away with a lot. They crank out megajoules with much fewer maintenance headaches than you’d expect. >

Standing again, her tail wags.

< I’d give a demonstration, but unfortunately, this is inhabited space. Not the best idea.

Anyhow, take care! >

[redfilledfantasies]

After Hours (Single Story)

In the hushed sanctuary of Carmella’s private clinic, the sterile gleam of polished chrome and the quiet hum of monitors held sway, a world apart from the pulsing heat locked inside Lydia and Bailey’s bare forms.

Naked beneath the clinical glow, they stood poised at the edge of an experiment that stretched limits far beyond science—where every racing heartbeat might become a wave of shattering ecstasy. The air hung thick with the scent of antiseptic mingled with anticipation, an electric tension that whispered promises no protocol could fully contain.

Lydia’s pale, bronzed skin caught the faint clinical light like molten metal, muscles taut with a lithe, practiced grace honed through relentless discipline. Her athletic silhouette was an elegant contrast to Bailey’s more compact strength, the younger woman’s lean, bronzed limbs shimmering with a soft sheen of fine sweat. Bailey’s chest rose and fell with measured breaths, the faint rise of defined abdominal muscles a testament to years of unyielding training beneath the calm surface. Both women bore the unmistakable marks of cardiovascular excellence—hearts mapped in every curve, pulse throbbing visibly at throats and chests alike.

Lydia’s gaze swept over Bailey with the exacting precision of a scientist and the fire of a seductress. Her voice, low and deliberate, brushed the charged air between them. “This next phase will push the boundaries of cardiac and sensory experience, Bailey. My new aphrodisiac targets the heart itself. Each beat will send shivers and waves rippling through your body, magnifying sensation until ecstasy cascades free.”

Bailey swallowed, a flicker of nervous tension betraying her steady exterior. “It sounds… incredible. But also overwhelming,” she admitted softly, fingers flexing as if to grasp the unseen current flowing between them.

Lydia smiled, a knowing, slow curve of lips that hinted at danger and delight in equal measure. “That is why we begin with the dobutamine injection. It will elevate your cardiac output, pushing the heart to deliver with greater force and rhythm before the pill takes effect.”

The younger woman nodded, curiosity overriding hesitation as she reclined onto the cushioned examination table. The pale vinyl stretched taut beneath her athletic frame, the supple contours of her skin glowing warmly against the sterile white. Bailey’s eyes flicked upward, momentarily catching Lydia’s luminous blue, shining with that rare blend of scientific zeal and intimate promise.

From a polished tray, Lydia selected a syringe already prepared with the clear, viscous dobutamine solution. Her hands moved with deliberate confidence—graceful and exact—as she checked the dosage once more, murmuring to Bailey the pharmacologic details, her voice a weave of clinical expertise and seductive calm. “This catecholamine will increase heart rate and contractility. Your cardiovascular system will respond immediately—stronger beats, quicker pulses. It’s the perfect precursor to the aphrodisiac’s wave.”

Bailey’s pulse fluttered visibly at her throat, breaths growing ever so slightly quicker as Lydia’s fingers brushed a pale forearm with reassuring gentleness before sliding beneath her biceps to expose the skin at the crook of her elbow. Lydia’s eyes flicked up, seeking consent, before the needle slid smooth and sure, cool liquid seeping into the network of veins beneath. Bailey’s hand clenched lightly around the table’s edge, an electric tremor rippling through her frame.

Minutes passed with a charged stillness as the dobutamine coursed through Bailey’s bloodstream. The familiar flush of increased blood flow bloomed across her skin, the delicate pink expanding over cheeks, neck, and chest. Her pulse surged, palpable now against the translucent skin of her throat, throbbing in a steady, insistent rhythm that pressed outward like a drumbeat under fine glass. The Erwachte Pumpe’s monitors glowed quietly, broadcasting every nuance of Bailey’s intensified cardiac ballet.

Lydia’s voice softened as she extended the slender white pills between trembling fingers. “Now, we add the aphrodisiac. Three pills—crafted to couple every heartbeat with waves of rising pleasure.”

Together, they swallowed the small capsules, the smooth motion witnessed in soft inhalations and the barely audible clink of swallowing. The room seemed to hold its breath as the compounds began to stir. Bailey’s skin deepened to an almost fiery rose, her heart pulsing hard enough to sketch a visible rhythm beneath pale flesh. Each beat was a tempest in miniature, vibrating through muscle and bone, the relentless call of life itself.

Without hesitation, Lydia withdrew one of the wireless transmitters—the small titanium disc gleaming softly under the clinical lights. Her fingers traced the subtle valleys of Bailey’s chest before settling the device just above the apex of her heart. The cool metal kissed warm skin, an intimate contact laden with unspoken invitation.

Pressing her ear gently to the rise and fall of Bailey’s chest, Lydia inhaled the powerful cadence against her cheek. The heartbeat was a torrent of vitality—a "THUD-DUM, THUD-DUM" thundered like an ancient war drum beneath her skin, each contraction jarring the flesh in time with pounding desire.

With her free hand, Lydia slipped between Bailey’s parted thighs, fingers sliding through the slick folds, seeking the core where muscles curled in eager welcome. Her touch was practiced, precise—exploring the G-spot with exacting rhythm that danced alongside the wild beats surging in Bailey’s chest. Bailey’s breath broke free in ragged gasps, her spine arching involuntarily from the table, a fragile melody of surrender rippling through every taut fiber of muscle and nerve.

The room tightened around their shared heartbeat—the intersection of science, sensation, and raw, unfiltered hunger pulsing in relentless crescendo.

Lydia’s voice is a soft, hypnotic chant woven into the thick hum of Bailey’s relentless heartbeat. “Your ventricular walls, Bailey… perfectly sculpted. The thickness of an elite athlete, robust yet free of any pathological swelling—a masterwork of cardiac architecture.” Her words float over the electric crackle of the Erwachte Pumpe, blending science and seduction with equal measure.

Pressing her ear firmly against the swelling rise of Bailey’s chest, Lydia feels the convulsive pulses—the thunderous “THUD-DUM, THUD-DUM” reverberating in sharp, magnificent bursts beneath her skin. Each contraction jars her cheek as if the heart itself wields power to move worlds. Bailey’s breathing is ragged now, breaths ripping from her lungs in short, shuddering gasps that mark a body consumed by burgeoning fire. She sweats freely, tiny beads gleaming against bronzed skin, cascading in shimmering rivulets down sculpted limbs and along the curve of her breasts.

Her moans build, thick and wet with desire, sliding free from lips parted in abandon. The sound matches the wild thunder beneath Lydia’s ear, a desperate symphony with no pause. Lydia’s fingers, slick and deft, slide against the slick folds and trembling core, finding with practiced certainty the quivering knot beneath. The rhythm of pleasure rides in perfect tandem with the ferocious beats shaking the room.

With the gentlest cruelty, Lydia’s free hand moves beneath her own thighs, skin flashing heat as she strokes slowly, deliberately. Her breath quickens, mingling with Bailey’s gasps in a tight coil of sound and sensation. The illicit pulse of Bailey’s heart thumping violently against Lydia’s cheek sparks a wildfire beneath her skin—a maddening pulse that echoes in her own blood like a summoned tempest.

Minutes compress into seconds as Lydia’s breath falls into a steady cadence of measured observations and whispered enticements. “Observe how your stroke volume commands the entire chamber,” she murmurs, “each contraction pushing fiercely against resistance, the ejection fraction peaking at an unimaginable intensity. Your heart beats with the force of a wild drum, a tempest contained only by your will.” Her words wrap around Bailey’s senses, fanning flames brighter than medicine alone could kindle.

Bailey’s body stiffens, tense as a drawn bowstring. Her moans twist into sharp cries, her limbs clenching the table with trembling fervor. Lydia’s fingers accelerate in silky mastery, exploring depths and heights, mapping the folds and tides with intimate zeal. The pounding in Bailey’s chest intensifies—a fierce barrage beating against ribs and flesh alike. Every pulse vibrates with brutal might, shaking the sinew until her entire body hums with the promise of release.

Suddenly, the monitor’s steady rhythm distorts—skips shard every third beat, harsh and erratic as a living thing betrayed by its own power. The signal shudders with jagged desperation, rhythms lurching in a dangerous dance that cascades through the speakers like an urgent scream. Bailey’s heart falters briefly before breaking free, firing with savage acceleration that sends hot torrents pulsing through arteries and veins. The rapid onslaught bursts forth, primal and wild, as her heartbeat climbs past limits, a furious tempest blazing beneath vulnerable skin.

The air thickens with charged heat as Bailey’s orgasm crashes over her—a savage wave that wracks body and spirit with undiminished force. Her muscles convulse in waves, ribs heaving violently against the harsh rise and fall of life’s most intimate hammer. She cries out, breath splintered and wet, the sound raw and ragged as it cascades like a roar of primal power.

Drawn into the maelstrom, Lydia’s own senses spiral. The thunderous heartbeat against her cheek ignites every nerve, her body trembling as the wild storm pulses through her blood. Her fingers clutch her own skin, tracing fiery lines as the cadence overwhelms her control. A sudden cry rips from her lips, sharp and unrestrained—a wail of exquisite surrender as her heart spikes fiercely, clocking a wild one twenty beats per minute. Lydia’s mouth crashes against Bailey’s chest, a hot, desperate kiss stolen amidst the tempest of shared climax.

For long moments, the room throbs with aftermath—the primal soundtrack of two bodies shattered and reshaped by fire, by rhythm, by impossible heartbeats exploding beneath skin. Sweat mingles in trails across tangled limbs, breaths rough and rasping in chaotic harmony. Every pulse through the Erwachte Pumpe’s speakers resonates with raw truth, a fierce anthem of strength, surrender, and the inexorable power of hearts driven to the edge of ecstatic collapse.

Within the fragile silence that follows, their eyes meet—fiery pools mirroring unspoken gratitude and the shattering bonds forged in the violent, beautiful storm of this shared experiment.

The furious symphony of wild heartbeats gives way to a gentle diminuendo, rhythms unspooling and settling into harmonious quiet. On the luminous display, the pulses fold back with miraculous swiftness: Bailey’s steadfast organ slows gracefully to a commanding sixty-five beats per minute, a steady, mighty drum carved of discipline and resilience. Lydia’s heart answers in kind, easing to a poised seventy beats per minute, a measured cadence of perfected endurance. The monitors, their cool glow painting the sterile walls in pale blues and greens, attest to the peak form locked within their bodies—testaments of steel and sinew, etched in pulses and blood.

Sweat clings to their skin, thick ribbons gleaming beneath the sterile clinical light. Each breath rises in soft bursts, shallow and jagged yet suffused with a profound sense of accomplishment and fragile vulnerability. The air between them pulses with the faint scent of exertion, a mingling of heated flesh and electric possibility that makes the clinical room feel suddenly intimate, almost sacred.

Bailey’s hazel eyes, bright with equal parts scientific wonder and flushed post-orgasmic warmth, track the scrolling data streaming from the machines. Each wave and spike is a whispered story—of hypertrophied walls sculpted by years of grit, of chamber volumes perfect in balance, of conduction systems delicately poised on the razor’s edge of human limit. Her gaze glimmers with respect, both clinical and deeply personal, as she processes the implications, marveling even as her body trembles lightly with residual thrill.

Slowly, she pushes herself upright from the padded table, the movement fluid despite trembling limbs. Her muscles tighten beneath slick skin; breath escapes in soft moans, the pale light catching dew along smooth shoulders and collarbones. She parts her lips, a fragile invitation ready to spill words—thanks, admiration, wonder—yet the space stills before sound can slip free.

Lydia’s hands, strong and sure, close over Bailey’s delicate face with a sudden, commanding gentleness. The shift is abrupt—a silent declaration in motion. Fingers thread through damp hair, palms cupping soft cheeks with reverence and hunger as she pulls the younger woman forward in one seamless motion. Their lips collide, the kiss igniting in an instant like flint to tinder.

Bailey’s surprise flickers in wide eyes before dissolving into surrender. Her hands rise, tentative at first, then with growing urgency, slipping beneath Lydia’s arms as their bodies press tightly together. Skin slick and bare meets bare in a slick, electric meld, the heat and moisture of their union painting the clinical room in hues of fervent color. The kiss deepens, tongues tracing deliberate, urgent arcs, breathing melding in slow waves that echo the steady thump of their hearts now aligned in intimate tandem.

Their chests press in perfect rhythm, subtle rises and falls that signal new cadences, hearts edging up from resting beats to passionate tempos renewed by their closeness. The monitors, silent witnesses to this transformation, continue their quiet vigil, catching the subtle upticks—numbers shifting gently upward, heart rates dancing in lockstep as breath and pulse intertwine.

Fingers roam boldly, tracing contours long studied in the sanctity of clinical observation but now cherished with raw, personal devotion. Every stolen breath, every shared sigh, weaves a delicate story—two lives merged not just in science but in the vulnerability and promise that follows discovery. The sterile walls no longer separate, but enfold them in a cocoon of shared heat and whispered longing.

Their kiss lingers, a slow burn trailing from mouth to neck, from skin to soul—a silent vow written in rising heartbeats and the tender clasp of arms. It is a moment both triumphant and fragile, the triumphant close of an experiment that began with data and desire and now finds itself blossoming into something more profound and uncharted.

As their hearts beat onward—steady, sure, and increasingly unrestrained—the line between professional rigor and passionate embrace fades into soft shadow. In the quiet glow of monitors and sweat, in the charged silence between moans and heartbeat, a new chapter begins—one of promise, of connection, of bodies and souls entwined beneath the pale clinical light.

[sachidigital]

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[table-cat-games]

Another round of Ghostbusters modding!

I dedicated some time to modding the Hasbro proton pack. The pack was crowdfunded on their platform called Haslab and was modeled after the proton pack scene in Ghostbusters Afterlife.

They did a pretty good job on it except for a few things. The primary thing that bothered me about it is that it used D cell batteries instead of a modern solution that is rechargeable.

The solution was cracking it open and installing a battery myself.

Now it's accessible from a little side door.

At the same time I also installed a keep alive kit which you can use to keep the proton pack running almost indefinitely as you walk around with it on. Otherwise it shuts off after 3 minutes.

That's it right there, it's super tiny.

Next up was replacing the lens on the power level doodad. The frosted looked really bad in my opinion so I got a more clear blue one.

I can only do one video per post, so you'll see it in action at the end.

They also have some stuff that looks really fake like molded rubber tape or clamps that are molded rubber. I covered up a lot of the faky stuff with actual electrical tape or clamps.

Also this guy on YouTube did this interesting thing with little bits of wires to give it a little more authenticity, so I did that too.

And while I love Ghostbusters afterlife I wasn't super in love with the modified pack in that film, so I toned it down a little bit.

In the final image You can see that I took these little fake copper wire things and removed them. I covered up the holes at the top with a sticker and at the bottom with just some electric tape. Not the most elegant solution but it works for me.

And here's the final result for now. There's only two more things on the list for this pack: 1. Replace the yellowish wireloom cover. 2. Replace the really dirty ribbon cable. 3. Replace the fake tape on the handle of the neutrona wand.