#Mind's eye

[vaxolang]

"Mind's eye"

Acrylic painting

[applecidity]

astraea night

[sirenjose]

The Proof of Azoth's Theorem - (Concept Art) Analysis

(About Philosopher's Stone, Stibnite, Maria's Axiom, Philemon's Altar, Azoth, and a few of the symbols on each of their outfits)

Philosopher’s stone: the goal of turning base metals like iron into precious metals like gold or silver. It was also said to provide the elixir of life, which could cure any illness or bring longevity. It was considered the most pure and perfect of all substances.

Stibnite: an ore that is the primary source of antimony

Described in Basil Valentine's 1st Key (the image Fool's Gold is holding). This depicts purifying gold using melted stibnite.

Impure gold dissolves in melted stibnite. Metals besides gold are turned into sulfides and rise to the surface, while a white allow of antimony and gold sink to the bottom. Roasting this alloy causes the antimony to evaporate, leaving only the purified gold behind.

In the image of the First Key, stibnite is likened to a hungry wolf in the First Key due to how quickly stibnite dissolves (devours) metals.

In German, stibnite is called “spießglanz”, which means “spear shine” due to its shiny “spear” like crystals, thus why the First Key says “on account of his name, is subject to bellicose Mars”, as a spear is a weapon and all weapons are subject to Mars (the god of war).

This is like what is described by Nicholas Flamel, where silver is combined with mercury and antimony then distilled and cohobated (repeatedly distilling a liquid then pouring the distillate back onto the residue to extract more of the desired substance) to produce red power.

Maria’s Axiom: “1 becomes 2, 2 becomes 3, and out of the 3rd comes the 1 as the 4th” (also described as “1 becomes 2, 2 becomes 3, and by means of the 3rd and 4 thachieving unity, thus 2 are but 1”)

Carl Jung uses this as a metaphor to describe the process of “individuation”. This refers to the process of self-discovery to become our true, unique self.

This involves finding your identity outside of the roles and expectations imposed by the outside (society, others, etc…). The goal here being to achieve a sense of “wholeness” and “unity” with yourself.

1 is the 1st matter, or prima materia, containing everything you need. This is then divided (into opposites), with each element purified by itself then united again (reconciliation of opposites) into a complete whole more perfect than the starting matter, the philosopher’s stone.

Philemon’s altar: may refer to Jung’s Philemon, which is based on Philemon and Baucis from Ovid’s Metamorphosis and Goethe’s Faust.

With Ovid, Jupiter and Mercury are disguised knocking on houses but not shown kindness until they meet Philemon and Baucis, an old, poor couple. They let them live while killing everyone else (the wicked), with the couple’s house being transformed into a temple.

With Goeth, Faust is building a city on land reclaimed from the sea and asks the devil Mephistopheles to move Philemon and Baucis, but Faust is horrified to see the demon burn their house down with the couple still inside. Faust then decides he needs to atone for his crime.

Philemon was a figure in a dream of Jung's, a wise old man that represented superior insight and wisdom. For Jung, Philemon symbolized the “artifax” or skilled alchemist, with the goal to purify and perfect materials (transform base materials into noble ones like gold).

On a spiritual level, the goal of the artifax is to purify and perfect the human soul, achieving enlightenment (becoming a higher/whole human being).

Over Jung’s gate he put the inscription: “Philemon’s Shrine – Faust’s Repentance”. This involved integrating the moral questions raised by with the spiritual goal of alchemy via the opposing figures of Philemon and Faust (so acknowledge necessity of confronting evil on the path to individuation, atoning for Faust’s crime, and affirming the goal represented by Philemon).

Azoth: Considered to be a universal cure or Elixir of Life that could be created by the philosopher’s stone.

It is also essential agent of transformation in alchemy.

As the Universal Life Force, it's the energy responsible for the drive towards physical/spiritual perfection

Azoth is called Prima Materia in Latin. This was the first matter, the starting material required for the creation of the philosopher’s stone. It is the primitive formless base of all matter similar to chaos, the quintessence or aether.

It is the 1st matter at the beginning as well as its perfected essence (philosopher’s stone).

It relates to unity, wholeness, and synthesis of opposites

Alchemy Symbols:

Philosopher’s Stone:

triangle = fire

triangle in a circle = Wheel of Fire (Ignis Rotae)

entwined snakes = likely Hermes Caduceus (Hermes as Hermes Trismegistus was closely associated with alchemy)

Stibnite

upside down triangle = water

hexagram?() = represented the reconciliation/union of opposites (fire and water)

Philemon:

- triangle with a line through it = air

Maria's Axiom:

- downward triangle with a line through it = earth

- symbols on her dress and floor for Mercury/Quicksilver, Venus/Copper, Moon/Silver, Saturn/Lead, Jupiter/Tin, Mars/Iron, and Sun/Gold

There were several bits that looked like they could be symbols but I haven't been able to identify them yet (I've already spent so long working to identify everything. I'll try to add more if I identify them later).

Also I did notice/wonder how that shadow thing has eyes that appear around it could relate to Hunter Norton's weapon, which almost looks like an eye. Matthias also might have something on his boots but it's hard to be sure.

[tumbler-polls]

[joppyna]

I swear that one of these days I will knit or sew a Helena doll.

[battle-subway-ghost]

The Frozen World

// Offscreen post, taken from a roleplay with @thatfailedpokemontrainer

CW: Death, terrorism, Large-scale disasters, In-depth descriptions of dead bodies. Check the tags for any additional content warnings!

Sprite sighed. The alarm clock tethered to hotel wall by a cord that had split wires on either end mocked him, the red light flaring out in a way that made the numbers illegible. After a bit of blinking and squinting he was able to read '11.02PM' in bright analogue letters.

It was probably time for 'bed'. Or Paris sleeping while he sat up on his phone for hours, wasting as much time as he could.

Making the journey across the dingy room he flicked the light off, the lack of a protest being his approval. He sat down in his makeshift bed on the floor, his legs ached from a couple of steps, the cold seemed to stretch out the pain, intensify it. Paris would insist on him having the bed if he brought it up even once. No. He gets this.

He waited for Paris's breathing to slow, to become rhythmic and audible before he got out his phone, but it didn't. Theres a certain electricity in the air, lying a few feet away from someone, another living breathing thinking person. Someone who knows you're awake too. It can't of been more than 5 minutes before Sprite broke the silence.

"You still up?"

The room stayed silent for another beat, finally broken by blankets rustling. "Yeah, still up," Paris replied, pulling the blankets back over himself before the warmth could slip away now that he was sitting up.

Looking down at the floor, he could just barely make out the silhouette of Sprite laying on the floor. It really shouldn't be sleeping on the floor, but if that's what was comfortable for it right now, who was he to argue?

…Was it really comfortable, though? The heating in this hotel was fickle at best, and the nights in Opelucid were always cold, weren't they? He realized now that he should probably ask, but clearly Sprite had wanted to say something as well… Too late. He'd have to ask later.

"Why? Something up?" Paris added before he could interrupt with his own questions, glancing away to focus on something else, like running his fingers against the hem of the blanket.

The glow of faint red light illuminated the form of Paris in the darkness. Paris.

Something was wrong, and not with Sprite. But poking the ursaring again would ruin things for the both of them. He needed to be careful.

It urged itself to speak. The easy stuff would come first. Lying is always easy.

"Today was pretty alright. I've been feeling better… I think we should be good to travel tomorrow, get the hell out of here y'know."

A pause. The electricity in the air around him made it feel hard to breathe all of a sudden. Sprite persisted.

"… And. I was just. y'know. I've seen how you've been acting since we got here. I just. Wanted to say you can talk to me about it if you want."

The gentle rubbing stopped, having instead turned into a tight grip as Paris sighed. "Yeah.. yeah. I know. And I'm sorry for not saying anything." Truth be told, he still didn't want to have this conversation. He never said it out loud before.

Of course, there was an unspoken understanding between him and Lumi, one born through shared experiences. It was somewhat nice, being understood without having to say anything.

Really, he shouldn't have been as affected as he was. At least, that's what he always told himself. It had been years, and it wasn't like he was the only person who had it bad! In fact, his experience was comparatively better than most others'. He shouldn't be upset.

Why couldn't he get over it? Ignoring it hadn't worked. Leaving it- and everything- behind hadn't worked either. What was left?

Sprite drew his legs up to his chest, clenching its jaw.

Was it worse to try and coax the truth out of Paris with more sappy remarks he wasn't feeling or give him an easy way out, leaving their relationship in the same tense and weird place it was more often than he wanted to admit

There was no good outcome here. Nothing that would leave it satisfied.

This isn't about me.

"…"

Paris took the silence as a sign to go on, thankfully, and cleared his throat. “It must’ve been.. 2017? No.. 2018, I think. Around this time of year, actually…” he trailed off, thinking about his next words carefully. “Team plasma came back, a second time. And they… they..”

Had it been so quiet in the hotel before? The heater must’ve automatically shut off again, much to Paris’ discomfort. Too cold. It was always too cold in this city.

Sprite felt a chill creep up his spine. Paris's voice sounded far away, it didn't even sound like Paris anymore.

Team Plasma, of course. It was always them. Sprite wasn't blind to the fact Paris used to have 2 other pokemon that were seldom mentioned. But his voice didn't hold it's usual distain when discussing the group. This was something else. Something worse.

It wished it could turn to face Paris, to help him somehow. To fix whatever he was reliving.

Instead it prompted him to continue, guilt welling in its chest.

"And they…?"

Deep breaths. Paris shifted in place slightly, staring at- or through- the blankets. His facial expression didn't allow Sprite to discern much of anything, at least from what it could see in the dim red light illuminating his face.

"They wanted to take control of Unova through, I guess violent force. Make it so our leaders had no choice but to give in... And they were planning to do it by freezing most of Unova. The cities, towns… Anything they could to get control."

The words felt foreign on his tongue, but he continued blurting out everything. "They started with Opelucid City. Froze it over."

Another beat of silence. Maybe that was a hint to stop, but Paris didn’t know if he could now that he started— like he was fixated on a Rollout.

“Lumi, she was living there at the time. So the second I heard what had happened, I was already preparing to leave.”

Memories dragged themselves up, unwarranted. He could remember standing at the hospital’s reception, exhaustion clouding his mind as he pleaded with a receptionist. Unsure if he was being denied his last chance to see his only friend— no, the only person he had left.

Sickening memories. He wished he could push them back into whatever crevice they had been lurking in.

“I couldn’t do anything to help her. Couldn’t even visit her for a while�� some stupid rule, I don’t remember.” Paris was surprised at how steady his voice was. He had expected it to shake a lot more than this.

Sprite could do nothing but stare into the darkness, silently cursing his ignorance.

Why didn't he know this already, why hadn't he done his research- why was his stomach starting to churn-

This isn't about me.

It had no right to be upset at this. Any of this.

He took a deep breath as Paris paused again. Everything was starting to click into place as he spoke. 2018. He was 19 years old.

Their trip was being thrown into a much less fun light now.

Paris fussing over Lumi when they stayed, to an extent that seemed unhealthy.

Paris being panicked for days after it fell into the cold water at virbank.

Paris keeping them both out of the cold, his mood always worsening while it was snowing.

"I…."

Sprite hesitated, choking up,

This isn't about me

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's not like you could've known, yeah?" Of course, Paris still felt the need to comfort Sprite, even while recounting what seemed to be the worst period of his life.

"Besides- she's… Okay now." Paris was always a bad liar, but especially now. How many times had he repeated those words? How real were they to him? "It was just, shit was rough when it was going down."

"…I actually stayed by Opelucid, for a while." He quickly changed the subject, unfortunately to one far more grim, "It was already a cold winter, and it- the entire city, everything near it was frozen completely solid. Just an icy wasteland." The wind howled, the morning light reflecting off of the frozen city, particles of ice lazily floating through the air. It almost would've been beautiful, except-

"Thousands of people had no home to return to. Anything that wasn't iced over was probably rubble… lots of people lost family, too."

He could still see the makeshift tents, set up just past the Village bridge, as vivid as the first day he was there.

Mourning families, children with nobody to turn to for comfort… His heart ached for them all still.

He could've done more for them.

There had to be something he could've done.

Right?

"Mmhm."

Even Sprites wordless response was strained. It shifted again, unable to keep still, it's face pressing against the pillow.

There was no way to reach Paris, to pull him out of this. Instread he himself was being dragged deeper and deeper down.

Why did he ask about this anyway? To saitate his need to know? Did he really think he could help? Did he think this would help Paris somehow, talking about it?

This isn't about me

"That's… yeah…."

"…Yeah." Paris echoed, before clearing his throat. "The city couldn't be repaired until it started warming up- it was just too cold otherwise. I don't… really understand how, it must've been because of the Dragon, but it just- it wasn't normal ice. apparently it wouldn't even break until Plasma…" He trailed off, his mind immediately jumping to a line of thought he didn't want to pursue.

What would have happened if they succeeded? If they attacked more cities in the same way? Would-

"Forget about that. I'm off track." Paris realized he was shivering. When did it get so cold?

He tried to huddle up without moving too much, wrapping the blanket around him tighter before shoving his hands back underneath. Anything to thaw his freezing fingers.

"I also volunteered to help with recovering the city, once it was… safe enough for them to allow,"

Ah.

He regretted mentioning it before he even finished his sentence. Too late to take it back now.

"Help?"

It should not have surprised Sprite. Really. Still, it felt it's gut twist at the word 'recovery'

With the lense of this new information, all the overlooked details were coming into sharp focus. Every stupid argument they had about his saviour complex, all of Sprites concerns that were quickly brushed aside were coming back to haunt it.

He was tugged deeper down. Paris.

Paris, always obsessed with being the saviour, the hero, the white knight for those who needed it.

The worst thing he could do is surround himself with people he would never be able to save.

“What? Of course I helped. What else was I supposed to do?” He sounded genuinely confused at Sprite’s reaction, turning to briefly look in its direction.

He didn’t seem to see a single issue with anything he was saying.

“I couldn’t just, leaveafter everything that already happened.” Paris explained further, finding the very idea of simply backing off, or prioritizing himself strange.

Typical. Even if hundreds of other people were available to help in his place, Paris would still find a way to justify why he in specific needed to be present.

“People needed their homes back.. and to be able to mourn properly.”

Sprite felt Paris's eyes snap to him, but didn't back down, annoyance overtaking apprehension

"And you- You didn't need support, you didn't need anything?"

It knew he was fighting a loosing battle here. There was always some tarousshit explanation for Paris's borderline suicidal selflessness. He shifted again, stretching out it's legs and turning over to face away from his friend.

"… What did you do?"

"Well…"

Paris hesitated. He wanted to stop talking now, end the conversation here and go back to bed…

But that wouldn't be fair to Sprite at this point, would it? He could handle it, or at least, he should be able to handle it. So he took a deep breath, and steadied himself before starting to speak again.

"A lot of the process was… body recovery." Paris lowered his voice, staring down at the blanket with an almost vacant expression.

"…"

His voice finally cracked once he spoke again, his fist clenching the blanket. "They- A lot of them were trapped in their homes, or frozen solid in the streets… all of them, looked like they could've still been alive. They were completely preserved. And… It- it tricked my brain, every time- I always thought, maybe they'd start breathing, or they'd wake up any second…"

"But they were all cold. So, cold- I could feel it through my gloves- maybe they were, shit- but it was the coldest thing I've ever felt-"

Deep breaths. He knew he needed to take deep, steady breaths. Panicking wouldn't do him any good.

He looked around for Cashmere, or maybe Lotus- but they were all tucked away inside their Pokeballs. There was a rule against having Pokémon out indoors- and he wouldn't want them to experience this cold night with him, anyways.

It'd be cruel.

Cruel to make anyone else deal with him.

"…I.."

Their faces were still clear in his mind. Eyes like glass, faces frozen in terror- the last thing they ever experienced. He wanted to scream, hit his head against the walls until he couldn't remember anymore- but his throat felt frozen, completely iced over.

"…I don't… want to talk about it anymore."

I'm sorry.

You shouldn't have to hear about all of this.

I'm sorry.

"..."

Without another word, Paris laid back down, draping the blanket over himself as he turned away from Sprite.

Sprite bit his tongue, though any response had died well before it reached his throat. There was a pressure in it's chest that could only build, surely his lungs would give out any second, surely his heart would stop soon.

How long had he been keeping Paris in this place? A week? Two? And for what- for what.

They lay there in silence again, facing away from each other. Even after the heating turned back on the room didn't seem to get any warmer.

Something awful is going to happen

The pressure didn't stop building after the conversation ended, Paris's breathing stabilized, nor did it when they started packing up the next morning.

[brightlyidol]

✮ ; helena adamz iconz !!

— requezted by : no one ✦

— kin ) id ) me & f ) o tagz r ok :3

[PT. Star symbol; Helena Adams icons!! Requested by: no one (Star symbol). Kin/ID/me tags are okay (cat emoji) END PT.]

[shvarra]

so i was thinking about how aphantasia makes it so difficult to play D&D. you know, because once the dm describes like three aspects of the environment, you're already lost and have given up on remembering it.

then i had the most stupid yet genius (kind of, not really) idea. if you can't see the game in your mind, then play a near-sighted or visually impaired character. then your confusion about the environment will be genuinely role-played as a part of your character!

okay i admit that it would take a shitload of homebrewing to make such a character not completely unusable because of D&D rules about the blinded condition but hear me out. idk maybe give them spidey senses? like hightened senses. (i do know that this is not true about actual blind people (or so i've heard idk correct me if i'm wrong)) anyways i'm sure this could maybe potentially possibly work perchance.

[arconinternet]

The Mind's Eye Series (Videos, 1990/1992/1994/1996)

The iconic 90’s CGI showcase series. You can watch it all here.

[vaxolang]

"Mind's Eye"

Acrylic painting on canvas

Size 40 x 30

2021

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Mind's Eye (5x16)

I hate the way you see me.

Sometimes it feels like everyone sees her the same way. Helpless. Weak. Pathetic. She doesn’t see bright light, she doesn’t see blackness. Only nothingness. People seem to think her lack of vision inhibits her; that without it, she’s unable to see. 

But Marty sees plenty. 

She sees it every day: pity, impatience, even revulsion, like she’s something abhorrent. Something inhuman. And after twenty-nine years, she’s sick and tired of it.

She’s lived her entire life putting up with the way others view her, but Marty knows the truth: that she is just as capable as anyone else. She’s traversed certain pathways in her life enough times to know them by heart. Three steps forward inside the lobby and seven steps to the left will always get her to her building’s staircase, without fail. Twelve stairs, then two right turns will get her to her front door. And when she gets there, she can access an entirely new set of muscle memories to get her through the rest of her daily routine. She gets by just fine, thank you very much.

Her blindness isn’t the issue, not for Marty. But she still feels trapped. She’s been imprisoned for as long as she can remember, and for her entire life, she’s come to accept it’s where she will always be. But that acceptance doesn’t lessen her yearning to escape.

Her imprisonment doesn’t come from her lack of sight. It comes from her experience of life in a cell through the eyes of another: a stranger, or so she’s thought all these years. An ex-con who had finally been released into the world again, only to unknowingly share with Marty all the horrible things he’s done.

Her father. 

She should’ve expected such cruel irony: that the very man who gave her life is the one ruining it. 

She could be more helpful to the police, if she really wanted to. Finding the murderer of some loser drug dealer really doesn’t seem worth making an ass of herself, though. Maybe it’s better if they think she did it. Marty’s had it tough enough defending her own independence, her own worth. Getting someone, any one to believe she’s seeing through the eyes of another person would be impossible.

At least, that’s what she’s thought until now.

You didn’t do it. And I’m not gonna let this happen. 

Do you hear me, Marty?

Agent Mulder understood her right away. She didn’t really get it at first, the way he seemed to want to let her off the hook because he felt sorry for her. But that wasn’t it. He’d been testing her. He wanted to let her off the hook because he genuinely believed she was innocent, which was more than she could say for Pennock and his cronies.

Agent Mulder is the one who convinces her to help. He’s probably the only one who can. And she does want to stop Gotts. Watching that poor woman’s demise isn’t something she ever wants to relive. 

But Agent Mulder is still basically just another cop, after all. If she lets him take over, he’ll put Gotts in prison. 

And that means he’ll put Marty back in prison, whether he means to or not.

She cannot allow that.

As you lost one sense… you gained another.

He can talk all he wants about this power she’s gained. She wants no part of it. She never has. She’s lost far too much.

When she pulls the trigger, the images finally disappear. And even though she’s being led away in handcuffs, she doesn’t mind at all.

It’s control, finally. It’s freedom.

She is free.

She can’t see Agent Mulder in the room, of course, but she now can recognize his energy. She can sense his presence as she’s taken away. And she can sense it again when she’s tried and sentenced. Never judging, but quiet, observing. Seeing.

Surely Agent Mulder will approach the judge on her behalf, make a plea for leniency. She knows this because he’s a good man, a kind man. Someone who understands that a black and white world has many shades of gray whether or not a person can see them. But she doesn’t want special treatment. She’s killed a man in cold blood; she will face the consequences like any other human being. And she knows that Agent Mulder will understand that, too. 

He’ll visit her soon, in prison. She can feel it. And this time, she’ll be pleased he’s come. Because for the first time in her life, even after all she’s lost, she’s gained something even greater: someone who sees her the way she wants to be seen.

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@admiralty-xfd

[acrekette]

[stylistic-nightmare]

Acid King - Mind's Eye

[protoslacker]

But really, everybody’s weird, Nanay said. We all sit on the spectrum between hyperphantasia and aphantasia. It’s not only possible but likely that you have a totally different internal experience than someone you walk by on the street.

Kristina Armitage in Quanta Magazine. What Happens in a Mind That Can’t ‘See’ Mental Images

Neuroscience research into people with aphantasia, who don’t experience mental imagery, is revealing how imagination works and demonstrating the sweeping variety in our subjective experiences

I remember as a young boy wondering abou tthe nature and extent of our different internal experinnces. To be honest I 'm aphantasiac, or at least don't form very vivid mental images voluntarily.

[battle-subway-ghost]

Please make sure you know your ways of escape, your phone is properly charged and your pokémon are at full strenght. Don't fucking die.

@psyonicscream

Why does everyone think I'm going to die? Kura isn't a dangerous wild pokemon that's going to lash out or something like that

My pokemon are with me, we're meeting in a public area, people know where I'm going to be. and I'd like for people to quit acting like I'm putting my life in danger by helping my friend.

[mianimasenpoeticus]