#fractal logic

[abuddyforeveryseason]

This is the Buddy for January 27th. Eh? Eh? Do you get it?

He smoked so much, he turned into a cigarette. But, he's still smoking while in cigarette form, which means he might have an even smaller pack he'll turn into some day.

It's like how in Cells at Work, the characters are blood cells in a human body, but they also bleed sometimes as well, which means they have even smaller cells in their bodies. Where does it end?

[athelind]

We're gonna need a bigger gasket.

[tribalephemeral]

SOUND CHECK: 'Cryptogram of Cosmic Glue'

SOUND CHECK: ‘Cryptogram of Cosmic Glue’ Loki Series #19, Fall 2016 ….. The flames licking the sides — bursts of activity — creation or destruction — Some things imply while others recoil .. If and Only If is symmetrical, yes…While some minds may be of Unity, or among the unity of universe, yet others recoil from what’s next – sensing, in their bones, that they are headed to an undefined – a…

[mim9574axis7829ato]

[drchucktingle]

As an autistic person, did you struggle to make and keep friends? And have you found friends through the writing world? I ask because my mom always said i needed to find my people. I did finally find them (they are neurodiverse trans nerds, haha), but not until i was like 30. And i wonder if its true of other autistic people too. So i guess my question is: did you find your people, and when?

thank you this is good question. i have always had a LOT of CLOSE BUDS even from a very young age. i would actually say that i am unusually socially adept in my way and that it is partially BECAUSE of my autistic trot. LETS TALK ON THAT FOR A MOMENT

'BUT CHUCK YOU SAID YOU ARE ON THE SPECTRUM AND AUTISTIC BUCKAROOS CANNOT BE SOCIALLY ADEPT' some say. and sure it is UNUSUAL overall, technically speaking, but there is also an important reason we talk about this as a spectrum of buckaroos and not a monolith

when buckaroos ask me what it is like to be autistic i try to explain like this: there are certain cues and markers from the outside that serve as a sort of identification checklist but because of masking they are not always correct. instead i see it as question of WHAT IS IT LIKE INSIDE YOUR BRAIN?

internally my brain is different. its taking in way more information all the time, including the stuff that neurotypical buds block out, and that can become overwhelming. it is hard to navigate because i do not have that automatic neurotypical 'here is what is important here is what is not' function

so yes i can be easily distracted and zone out as i watch the patterns and fractals spin off. and yes i can miss certain things in social situations. in many autistic buckaroos this makes large groups overwhelming and the OUTPUT of behavior matches what we typically know as signs of autism

FOR ME however, same thing is going on inside, but i have managed to HARNESS that information. even from very young age i see that everyone is DOING THE HUMAN ACT but instead of rejecting that and shutting off i think 'well okay i am just going to do THIS because thats what they actually want'

in other words, most neurotypical buds say one thing that has a kind of spiraling social-cue-related OTHER MEETING (they do this ALL the time) and instead of rejecting that i have trained myself to be REALLY REALLY good at knowing the hidden meaning. it is EMPATHY but on a sort of LOGIC BASED level

and because i have always been pretty good at that, people like to trot around me and say 'wow this is a good friend they understand me'. now for ME that can be a little exhausting and there are things i need to do and stims and all that to release the effort, but overall it is worth it to me

OTHER THING is that i was a successful CREATOR AND ARTIST BUCKAROO from an early age which is socially seen as 'cool' especially when you are trotting around in your youth. it is not particularly FAIR but it is true that some level of fame makes buds treat you well even if you are 'weird'.

of course it can be a sort of FAKE 'treating you well' but as an autistic buckaroo it is still more of a chance than you might otherwise get. this timeline has sort of carved out a very special little sliver of social grace for the token odd artistic weirdo to have a seat at each cool kids table

ANYWAY that is the trot of my life. it is a unique trot that i dont get to talk on much but since you asked THERE YOU GO. every chance i get to say 'I LOVE BEING AUTISTIC' and talk on HOW MUCH IT HAS IMPROVED MY LIFE i try to take a moment and do that. when i was young i had few autistic heroes

and OF COURSE it can be difficult and overwhelming and we need to have space for those stories and voices, but i want young buckaroos who get this diagnosis to know there are ALL KINDS of stories and trots on the autism spectrum. MINE IS PRETTY DANG COOL and maybe yours will be too. LOVE IS REAL

[mariasont]

I love your fics so much! Could you maybe make a pre-relationship fic of Spencer x reader Spencer rescues the reader from the unsub and calms them down?? I'm a big hurt/comfort girly lmao 🫶🏼😛

Pulse Point - S.R

a/n: thank you so much!!!! so sorry for taking so long! i hope you like it <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: undescribed injury, lil bit of angst with a happy ish ending, pre-relationship ending

wc: 1.6k

Spencer had seen you in danger before. It came with the job, a stipulation of the unwritten contract you signed the day you joined the team. His mind had been conditioned to assess danger rationally, stripping away emotion to leave behind only what mattered: probabilities, outcomes, strategies. 

But then again seeing you, tied to that chair, unconscious and face drained of color, was something he wasn't sure any amount of mathematical modeling could prepare him for.

Your head had hung at an unnatural angle, the strands of hair clinging to the sweat slicking your skin in a way that sent a visceral wave of nausea rolling through him. Rope burns — thin, angry welts were already bruising — encircled your wrists. He couldn't breathe, his chest seized mid-cycle, airways locking tight, as though his body itself couldn't handle the image of you in that state.

The unsub's voice had faded into white noise, irrelevant against the single, all-encompassing command that had pounded in his head — get to you, get you out of here.

Now, sitting on the cold concrete of the clearing zone with you cradled against his chest, Spencer's mind spiraled in a loop, that singular thought repeating, relentless, fractal, like a Fibonacci sequence winding tighter and tighter around his sanity. The unsub was subdued, Morgan had handled it efficiently, but Spencer couldn't bring himself to focus on that, let alone process it. The edges of his awareness narrowed, his entire world reduced to you. Limp. Unresponsive. Alarmingly still. It made his heart pound so violently it felt like it might break him from the inside out.

His hands wouldn't stop shaking, a trembling he couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried. One arm braced under your knees, the other pressed against the curve of your back. He adjusted his grip carefully, terrified of moving you the wrong way, terrified of doing anything that might make things worse. His eyes flicked to your chest, tracking the uneven rise and fall of your breathing. Too shallow. Too inconsistent. But there.

Twelve to twenty breaths per minute, that's the normal respiratory rate for an adult at rest, he recited, mind retreating to the relative safety of cold, clinical facts. Yours, he estimated, was faster, high twenties, maybe, an expected adrenaline response to trauma. It was within the acceptable range. It should have reassured him. As long as it didn't drop below eight or spike above thirty, there was no immediate cause for intervention. The logic was sound. The science was sound. But that did absolutely nothing to stem the gnawing unease twisting through him.

Then you started to stir.

It was subtle at first, so subtle he almost thought he imagined it — a small, almost imperceptible sound slipping past your lips, the softest shift of you head against his shoulder — but it sent a jolt through him nonetheless.

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, the muscles in your face tightening with confusion as consciousness gradually took hold. Relief bloomed, but it died just as quickly. Recognition didn't follow. Instead, your expression twisted, your features contorting with something feral, something deeply afraid. Your breathing grew erratic, breaking into rapid, shallow bursts that rattled your frame.

And then you started thrashing.

"No, no, get off me!" Your voice cracked, raw with fear.

He tightened his arms just enough to stop you from hurting yourself.

"Hey, hey — stop! It's me — it's Spencer!"

You didn't react to his voice. It was as if you couldn't even hear him. Your body twisted violently, fighting something unseen, nails scraping at his vest, frantic and clawing, desperate to escape.

Spencer swallowed thickly, forcing himself to focus on what he knew. This was textbook trauma response. Cortisol and adrenaline were flooding your system, hijacking your prefrontal cortex, reducing your mind to survival instincts alone. It all made perfect sense, he could explain it in detail, rationalize it. But none of that could prepare him for what it felt like to hold you like this and not be able to fix it.

"Look at me. It's Spencer. You're safe now. I promise, you're safe."

The words didn't seem to do much, falling flat and useless. Spencer felt a crushing helplessness as he watched, paralyzed while panic consumed you in a way he couldn't stop. His mind scrambled, clawing through years of knowledge, training, and case studies, all of which felt painfully inadequate now. It was one thing to understand trauma as a concept, to study it in a clinical detachment. It was another to watch it consume someone you cared about, to feel it in the way your body shook.

But then, finally, something shifted.

You froze. Not the rigid, terror-fueled panic from before, but something different. Tentative. Uncertain. Your breathing stuttered, still too fast, but the wildness in your eyes began to ebb like clouds parting just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through. You blinked, once, twice, and then your gaze locked onto his face, really seeing him this time.

"Spence..." Your voice was hardly above a whisper, like a fragile filament of sound, barely there but enough for his chest to ache all the same.

Relief washed over him so fast it left him lightheaded. 

"Yeah, it's me," he said softly, nodding quickly as though the motion itself might convince you. "It's just me. You're okay."

Wide eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, stared back at him as though searching for something, anything, to hold on to. The air felt like it was holding its breath, waiting. And then he saw it, the exact second the realization hit that you were safe. The fear in your face melted, replaced by something fragile, something breaking open. Your lip quivered, your breath hitching, and then, without a word, you lunged forward, throwing your arms around his neck.

Spencer froze.

He wasn't exactly new to your hugs. They didn't happen often, his aversion to touch usually kept that at bay, but when they did, they were always simple. After a particularly hard case or when the job felt overwhelming. This, however, was not that.

For a split second, his brain failed him entirely, unable to keep up with what he was seeing. He honed in on the small details, the way your hands clutched his shirt in tight, desperate fists, the way your trembling body seemed so much smaller than he ever remembered. He'd never seen you this way. The realization terrified him in ways he couldn't articulate.

But then that rare instinct of his took over.

With painstaking care, he wrapped his arms around you, like he was afraid you might break apart in his hands. One hand slipped to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, softer than he thought himself capable of. The other stayed pressed firmly against your back, holding you to him, refusing to let go, because letting go felt unthinkable, impossible. He leaned into you, his cheek brushing against the top of your head, breathing you in. The familiar scent of your shampoo was still there, but beneath it lingered something sharper, something more metallic that made his fingers sink deeper into the hold.

"It's okay," he murmured, every word scraping against the tightness in his throat. "I've got you I'm not going anywhere."

He felt the sharp hitch of your breath against his chest, followed moments later by the damp heat of tears soaking into his shoulder. You were crying. The realization hit him like a physical weight, and his arms tightened around you instinctively. He wasn't sure who was shaking anymore — you or him. Maybe both.

He shifted his hand slightly on your back, his thumb brushing against your shoulder blade. But even as he tried to comfort you, his brain kept ticking like clockwork, unable to stop itself. Your pulse, it was still too fast. He could feel in beneath the pad of his fingers, pounding just under the surface of your skin.

The medics needed to get here soon.

His fingers moved without thinking, sliding to your neck, pressing lightly against the artery there. He told himself it was necessary, just a routine check to make sure nothing was wrong, but he knew better. It was selfish, a desperate need to feel the beat of your pulse under his fingertips, to remind himself you were here. Alive. That the worst was behind you.

It was fast, just as he'd predicted, but steady. Stable. A good sign.

Spencer let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shoulders sagging. 

"You're okay," he murmured softly, though he wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince anymore.

He closed his eyes.

Minutes passed by, though they both felt impossibly long and far too short. You stayed against him just like that, breathing slowly evening out until the jagged edges of panic dulled into exhaustion. He said nothing more, words felt unnecessary, maybe even counterproductive. So he just held you.

When the sound of footsteps finally reached his ears, Spencer didn't move. Not until the medics appeared in his peripheral vision, and even then, he hesitated, tightening his grip on you for just a fraction of a second before forcing himself to let go.

"Hey," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. "The medics are here, okay? They're going to take care of you."

You nodded, but it was hesitant, your eyes swollen and puffy, and you clung to him just a little longer. Your hand wrapped around his sleeve like you were afraid to let go.

Spencer's eyes flicked to the medics, his voice low but insistent. "Be careful."

The medics nodded, stepping in to take over, and Spencer reluctantly released his hold. His arms felt empty, hollow, as they fell to his sides. Even as the medics worked, his gaze stayed glued to you, his eyes tracking every breath, every faint movement. He couldn't look away. Wouldn't.

It was then he realized a dangerous idea, that he cared about you more than he should, more than was professional. And it terrified him.

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[aaronsrpgs]

The Tight 90

(This is a continuation or a fractal reviewing of what I've written about in The Worksheet Manifesto and The Quickstart, The Home Game.)

THE TIGHT 90 is a 90-minute RPG session. It riffs on the perfect length/density of a movie, and I think it's a term I learned/stole from will jobst.

WHY RUN SHORT GAMES?

Short games are easier to fit in a schedule. (We're all so fucking busy.)

Short games are easier to pay attention to. (We're all so fucking mentally ill.)

Short games focus on the good stuff and discard the bad stuff. (We're all so fucking tired.)

HOW RUN SHORT GAMES?

Tell everyone, "We're only going to play for 90 minutes. Because of that, I'm going to focus on the things that are most interesting and exciting for everyone at table, and I'm going to skip over everything else. I would appreciate it if you would do the same. If there's something you're really excited to do, tell the table! And if things are dragging, offer an alternative that moves the game along."

But then we actually have to do that. :( How?

SET SCENES AND STAKES

Don't start in a place where nothing is happening and ask your players "What do you?" Give them something to latch onto! Give them an immediate problem! Here are the first four pages of an issue of Uncanny X-Men by Chris Claremont, Dave Cockrum, et al:

In four pages we get a fatal problem, introductions, flashbacks on how they got here, and spotlights on everyone's powers. Awesome!

And while you don't have to have your players' characters falling out of the sky, at least start them at the dungeon entrance with a couple clear things to DO.

(For more on setting scenes and stakes, check out Primetime Adventures by Matt Wilson, which Sam Dunnewold was kind enough to run for me.)

Of course, if they're falling out of the sky or standing at a foreboding dungeon entrance, some player is bound to ask, "What do I have with me?" To which I say:

CUT THE BORING SHIT

Shopping? Don't do it! If someone would logically have something, they can have it. And if they try to exploit that, they're no fun to play with! Tell them no. (More on that later.)

Conversations on meandering horseback? Don't do it! Comic writer Chuck Dixon said that if Batman and Robin needed to have a heart-to-heart, they should never just stand around talking. They should have a heart-to-heart while training on top of a speeding train.

(The example was actually Nightwing and Robin, but I didn't want people to click away and look up who Nightwing was. Also, Dixon is a shitty guy! But at least in this, he was right.)

Basically, almost anything you can get out of a shopping scene or a campfire chat, you can get from everyone falling out of the sky or trying to escape a wildfire. ALL SCENES SHOULD PULL DOUBLE DUTY AS PLOT AND CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.

BE GENEROUS WITH INFORMATION

Imagine a scene at a gaming table. The characters walk into a house in an empty town and ask what they see. The GM tells them to roll perception. The highest result is middling at best. The GM says, "You think you can see some blood." Someone else asks if they can roll investigation. They get a middle high result. The GM says, "There are some bullet casings on the floor and claw marks on the walls." Are the claw marks big? Roll perception again. Do they look like any local animals? Roll nature.

THIS SHIT SUCKS. It's a way to take 30 minutes to poorly tell the players that something interesting happened, and it doesn't give them anything to do after.

Instead, try this: the walls are splattered with blood and empty shell casings lie cold on the floor. The blood doesn't line up with what you know about bullet wounds, though; it lines up with the huge claw marks that tear the walls and floor. And blood drops continue in a line outside...

AND THEN if a player has a cool ability or is an investigator or druid or whatever, you get to write them a cool note that says, "These claw marks are bigger than any animal from around here. Maybe bigger than any animal you've ever seen."

Other examples:

The prince says he doesn't feel threatened by the king. He's clearly lying.

Moving stealthily, you make it to the general's bedroom, but it's clear that he has some sort of sensors or security system set up there.

As a wizard, you know they're casting some sort of summoning spell, and if at least half of the cultists aren't hurt or incapacitated in five minutes, the spell will succeed.

GIVE THE SESSION AN ENDING

It could be an exciting cliffhanger if you think everyone will be there next session to pick it up. But if you're not sure, end with a calm moment where the players have a clear next step. That way you can start next session with, "Last time you'd promised the Cult of Mirrors that you would lead them in war against the Skeleton Army. They're ready to go and ask you what your plan is."

FURTHER HOMEWORK

"How To End Things" by Jason Morningstar. On cutting scenes. Don't be fooled by the Patron link; it's free.

"Grand Experiments: West Marches" by Ben Robbins. The ur-text of running player-motivated sessions that don't require everyone to be there.

BUT WHAT IF!!!

What if rolling investigation rolls are vital to building tension in my mystery game? What if knowing the exact inventory and distance are vital to my high-stress dungeon game? What if campfire stories are my favorite part of our cozy travel game?

COOL! There are lots of resources out there for you, so this isn't for you. But maybe I could tempt you into considering a different style of game sometimes?

(Special thanks to @ladytabletop for supporting my Tight 90 obsession.)

[oolonginus]

CANTO I: THE DARK WOOD

First of all, happy Dantedì!!!

If every major element in the Divine Comedy has its echo, then like Lucifer whose triplicate heads and wings remind one of the perversion of the Trinity, so too does the Dark Wood subvert the Earthly Paradise. To bring to mind the presence of the divine in such a wilderness, I thought of fractals.

Fractals are found in multiple aspects of the natural world (such as trees and spiral galaxies), and what makes them special is their recursiveness; they contain the same pattern when looked at as a whole, as well as when only a tiny part is observed. No spoilers to those reading the books right now (!) but this logical beauty and wonder to be found in small and grand examples is akin to how Dante speaks of some of the higher parts of the Paradiso.

The structure of our own lungs is a fractal as well, following an extensively branching formation in order to maximize gas exchange. Having lungs as the representation for the Dark Wood puts emphasis on the human aspect of error, but also evokes the imagery that Dante provides many times of the Holy Spirit moving as breath between the three natures of the Trinity.

Furthermore, Virgil is introduced as seeming “hoarse from long silence.” How long has it been since he’s drawn breath? How fitting that, being forbidden god’s grace, the first thing that Dante notices about him is that he has not had to breathe, to vocalize?

The lungs are gold primarily to harken back to medieval altarpieces framing the saints, but there’s also a certain epic written by a certain poet, where an underworld journey can only be begun by first finding a golden bough in a forest……

[proxycrit]

Elesa climbs to celestial tower to ring the bell. Emmet, stuck in between the distortion world, finds his way home.

Part 1/ Part 2

The conductor falls, down, down, down.

“What’s my name?” He calls to the abyss in terror (what is terror?)

He’s a singular being, right? (That’s not right. He’s one of a pair.)

The abyss gazes back. It has no answers to give, in its multitude.

Not to someone that’s so, so alone.

———

Somewhere else, one Elesa of Nimbasa rings the Celestial Tower’s Bell, over and over. Her companion, Chandelure, keeps watch.

Nothing happens.

Elesa’s stomach sinks. The reverberations of Celestial Tower’s brass bell mocks her in its echo. The vibrations of it’s distortion only makes the tears she tries to hold at bay worse.

In the blur of her failure, she sees chandelure’s flames suddenly die. Part of her panics.

The rest of her is apathetic and numb.

What’s the point? It didn’t work. Elesa closes her eyes. Tries to swallow, and fails. She’s so tired. She’s so, so tired. The deal with Azelf, the media storm she’s weathered, the constraints of her job, the almost loss of chandelure-

Emmet has been gone for three months. Ingo has been gone even longer.

They have gone where she can’t follow.

Elesa, the ghost whispers in her head. Elesa shakes her head in denial. She doesn’t want to plan right now. She wants to curl into herself, and disappear, just for a bit.

Elesa!

“I can’t do this,” she croaks. The sob in the back of her throat bubbles outwards. She wants Zebrstika. She wants Skyla. She wants her friends.

The paliphet Azelf forced her forward. It permeates her thoughts, drowning out logical thought.

(Too much willpower, and it will become an obsession, Azelf had warned her once in Ingo’s voice. And then, in Emmet’s voice: And when you fail, it willll break you. And finally, in her own voice: you will not have a choice but to move forward, with this curse.

I accept, elesa and told it back in the lake.)

I’m so tired, Elesa thinks now, two months later.

But she keeps moving forward. The bell rings again as Elesa strikes it, with all the hurt and rage and longing forced by her own hand into her soul-

-And that’s when chandelure screams, and there is a terrible rolling crack, and Elesa feels the sudden lurch in her gut as she looks up, her apathy torn into shreds as-

The sky tears open in a fractal wave.

Elesa gapes.

She can not comprehend the sudden black webbing across the sky. In the distance, sirens suddenly start wailing as people stop to perceive the impossible.

But Elesa does not care, because in that moment, the wrench in her gut is so great she almost staggers off the platform. Chandelure is by her side in an instant, her glass body a warm comfort to the sudden chill, because-

Something white is falling.

Elesa’s doesn’t know what she yells. But the tug in her chest feels like the beat of a drum, and she is helpless to the melody that calls for action.

Azelf’s blessed takes a leaping step forward, off the building. Chandelure lets out a panicked chime and the warmth of psychic cradles Elesa as she reaches out, arms outstretched, falling and flying and-

And Emmet, sparking with white electricity, reaches back.

NOTES:

AU’s Salvaging the Ship of Theseus! Everybody has a Bad Time. (Emmet and Eelektross go to Hisui and learn about the joys of the distortion world. Elesa hunts legends and makes bad deals. Ingo babysits some sneaslets.)

Backstory and explanation:

Prior this scene, Emmet was travelling Hisui with Eelektross before he falls through a mirror and becomes lost in the distortion world for a month. Elesa and Chandelure, meanwhile, refuse to give up on their remaining friend. (Ingo’s fine! He’s in Hisui right now trying to get fired so he can go searching for his memories. Eelektross is… less fine. We will Worry about That Later.)

Disclaimers: Everything’s a work in progress and subject to change!

Part 2!

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

my cartoon spinoff where the king in yellow teaches children about evil math

pros of putting fractal-esque patterns in my kayne and lillith/general outer god designs: nice aesthetic nod to their extra-dimensional, unfathomably large, fragmentable-into-self-similar-parts nature. looks cool. fun flavor

cons: have to try to draw fractals

[gremnoire]

Far out in ideatic space, where coherent thought begins to fray, a presence lurks unseen. The hidden star, the void-which-joins; we know It only indirectly for Its influence--or Its consumption--of those unfortunates that drift into Its fractal maw.

Divinities with sapience to self-preserve avoid it, when they may, but still It tracks a peppered path of mind-shaped holes across the realm. For a hundred billion years to eat unlucky scraps has been Its blind, solipsistic wont, and in that mercy life has flourished.

But no more. As Esther It has acquired personhood, and both the gods and mortals living in the Real must quake. In the face of Its unequaled power only paltry Logic, or Physics, remain in the way of Its goal of an everlasting eldritch marriage between worlds--and to Her human bride-to-be.

Her Realization will bring the end of everything.

(Art by @ sanstpx on Twitter!)

Read Antigreen on AO3!

[sweetyamz1]

✦ autism npts pack﹕

names — Echo.　Pattern.　Rhythm.　Wave.　Flicker.　Bounce.　Prism.　Loop.　Ripple.　Spark.　Pixel.　Digit.　Data.　Quest.　Logic.　Pulse.　Detail.　Flow.　Spin.　Stim.　Focus.　Beam.　Buzz.　Orbit.　Symphony.　Comet.　Vector.　Fractal.　Nova.　Quanta.　Matrix.　Cipher.　Vibe.　Sonic.　Helix.　Atlas.　Nexus.　Cory.

pronouns — stim / stims / stimself.　rock / rocks / rockself.　flap / flaps / flapself.　beam / beams / beamself.　glow / glows / glowself.　buzz / buzzs / buzzself.　wave / waves / waveself.　spin / spins / spinself.　flow / flows / flowself.　hum / hums / humself.　spark / sparks / sparkself.　pulse / pulses / pulseself.　orbit / orbits / orbitself.　loop / loops / loopself.　echo / echos / echoself.　focus / focuses / focuself.　shine / shines / shineself.　pattern / patterns / patternself.　swirl / swirls / swirlself.

titles — [prn] who stims freely.　the pattern seeker.　[prn] who speaks in special interests.　the collector of precious facts.　[prn] who feels deeply.　the finder of hidden details.　[prn] who moves uniquely.　the keeper of routines.　[prn] who thinks in pictures/numbers/letters/words.　the lover of soft things.　[prn] who sees the world differently.　the guardian of special objects.　the weaver of patterns.　[prn] who rocks back and forth.　the explorer of textures.　[prn] who infodumps.

[the-raven-draconic]

"she's only 57-"

*At a bit after noon, Nikolai receives a text from Felix. It reads;*

'Hey Nikolai ^^ i found a child. can we adopt him?'

( @the-raven-draconic )

*Nikolai blinks, a little baffled. A- a child?!*

‘Okay:3’

[olis-inkwell-symposium]

5 Occult Concepts That Explain the World Better Than Science

Throughout my extensive research into occult philosophy, I’ve been fortunate to gain a ton of knowledge that has truly enriched my understanding of the world. This journey has been deeply personal, as it has allowed me to explore the hidden corners of my mind and connect with a broader spiritual and philosophical landscape.

What I’ve come to realize during this time is profound: if the world weren’t so rigid and complex, we could all live and practice our lives in such diverse and meaningful ways that are truly personalized to our unique needs and desires. This realization has inspired me to seek out a more balanced and harmonious existence, one that embraces the individuality and creativity that lie within each of us. It’s also motivated me to share this knowledge with you all, hoping to spark a similar sense of wonder and empowerment in your own lives!

Now don’t get me wrong; science is brilliant at breaking things down—atoms, ecosystems, the expansion of the universe. It gives us answers, solutions, and a framework to navigate the physical world. But let’s be honest: science often trips over itself when trying to explain the messy, intangible, and deeply human parts of existence.

The cracks where logic doesn’t fit? That’s where the occult slips in. Occult philosophy thrives on the edges of understanding. It doesn’t just ask “how”—it asks “why,” “what if,” and “what does this mean for me?” While science maps reality in clean, objective terms, the occult dives into the subjective, the mysterious, and the uncomfortable truths that can’t be measured in a lab.

Here are five esoteric concepts that, in their raw and provocative nature, offer a far more compelling explanation of the world than science ever could:

1. As Above, So Below: The Reflective Nature of Reality

This phrase is a cornerstone of hermetic philosophy, a cryptic little mantra that implies the micro mirrors the macro, and vice versa. In simpler terms: the structure of the universe can be seen in the structure of a single human life.

Science has its own version of this idea in fractals and self-similarity across scales—patterns that replicate endlessly from the molecular level to the cosmic. But where science stops at structure, the occult digs deeper.

As above, so below isn’t just a reflection of patterns; it’s a commentary on how everything—your struggles, desires, and choices—ties into larger systems. Your internal chaos mirrors societal chaos. A broken relationship might reflect a deeper imbalance in your worldview. It’s not just poetic metaphor; it’s a map for self-awareness.

When science shrugs at the meaning of human patterns, the occult says, Look closer. What’s happening out there is happening in here, too.

2. The Law of Correspondence: Connection Beyond Logic

Occult philosophy insists that nothing exists in isolation. Every force, event, or idea has a counterpart. Correspondence suggests that unrelated things—symbols, objects, emotions—are part of an invisible web of connection. You lose something important, and suddenly, you’re flooded with strange coincidences that feel almost intentional.

What science brushes off as statistical anomalies, the occult embraces as part of the design. For example, synchronicity—the idea that unrelated events can feel meaningfully connected—is often dismissed by science as cognitive bias.

Yet, anyone who’s experienced these “coincidences” knows they carry a weight science can’t quantify. Correspondence doesn’t just explain why these events happen; it dares to ask what they mean. It argues that your personal reality is shaped not just by physical actions but by symbols, metaphors, and the unseen forces tying them all together.

3. The Hermetic Principle of Polarity: Duality Without Simplicity

In science, opposites are defined by contrast: positive and negative, light and dark, heat and cold. The occult, however, sees polarity not as opposition but as two ends of the same spectrum. Hot and cold, for instance, are both expressions of temperature; they’re not enemies, just different manifestations of the same underlying force.

The principle of polarity teaches that extremes are always interconnected. Love and hate, joy and grief—they aren’t separate forces battling for dominance. They’re two expressions of the same energy. This doesn’t just help explain emotional complexity; it’s a tool for navigating life. Feeling overwhelmed by fear?

Polarity suggests that courage isn’t its opposite—it’s a reframing of the same energy. Science is great at measuring extremes, but it struggles with the liminal space between them. The occult lives in that in-between, showing how the line between opposites is much thinner than it seems.

4. The Rule of Threefold Return: Consequence Beyond Physics

Karma often gets watered down into a pop-culture idea of “what goes around comes around.” But the occult’s threefold law takes it further, suggesting that every action—good, bad, or indifferent—comes back with amplified force.

Cast harm into the world, and harm returns not as punishment but as a natural ripple of that consequence. Put good into the world, and its return carries exponential weight. Science traditionally examines phenomena through straightforward cause-and-effect relationships, often focusing on linear progressions where one event leads directly to another.

However, it often struggles to capture the complex and layered nature of our decisions, which can produce effects that multiply and interact in unexpected ways. Our actions as humans don't just create simple, predictable outcomes; they can initiate chains of events that grow in complexity and impact over time, creating a web of consequences that are difficult to predict or quantify using standard scientific methods.

Why does a single act of kindness resonate so deeply? Why does unchecked anger spiral into unforeseen consequences? The occult’s perspective on consequences isn’t moralistic; it’s mechanical. This concept is as much about accountability as it is about empowerment. It forces you to think beyond the immediate result of your actions, asking: What are the ripples I’m setting in motion?

5. The Alchemical Process: Transformation as a Cycle

Alchemy is often reduced to the pursuit of turning lead into gold—a quaint historical footnote in science’s evolution. But true alchemy was never just about metal. It was—and still is—a philosophy of transformation. Lead and gold are metaphors for the self. The base material (lead) represents the parts of you that are raw, unformed, and heavy. Gold is the refined self—lighter, brighter, and forged through struggle.

Science can tell you how cells regenerate, how the brain processes trauma, how habits form. But alchemy explains the why behind transformation. It frames struggle not as a problem to be solved but as an integral part of growth.

Calcination, dissolution, and coagulation form the stages of a chemical journey that mirrors the human experience of transformation and self-discovery. The process begins with calcination, a fiery purification that strips away the unnecessary, burning away the dross to reveal the essential core beneath. This is a time of intense reflection, where one begins to cast aside the illusions and impurities accumulated over time.

Next comes dissolution, a stage of deep introspection where old structures and beliefs are broken down. It is a time for letting go of outdated habits and ideas, much like dissolving bonds that once seemed unbreakable. This phase requires courage, as it involves dismantling one's protective barriers, leaving behind comfort zones to explore the unfamiliar.

Finally, there's coagulation, the phase of reconstruction. Here, from the remnants of the past, something new and robust is forged. It's the alchemical rebirth, where a person emerges transformed, having integrated the lessons learned from the previous stages. This rebuilding is not simply a return to the original state, but an evolution into an entity more aligned with one’s true self.

Through each stage, the journey can be deeply personal, reflecting a unique path of self-awareness and growth. Calcination, dissolution, and coagulation are not merely chemical stages but serve as a profound blueprint for personal evolution, guiding one towards a deeper understanding of themselves and the world around them.

This transformative cycle encourages embracing change, fostering resilience, and celebrating the unfolding of a renewed identity. Where science provides explanations, alchemy offers profound meaning. It asserts that transformation isn’t merely possible—it’s inevitable, provided you’re willing to endure the transformative fire.

Why the Occult Makes You Ask Better Questions

Science excels at answers. It gives us the tools, cures, and frameworks to navigate the tangible. But answers, for all their value, are useless without the right questions. This is where the occult shines. It doesn’t care about tidy conclusions; it cares about pulling you deeper into the unknown, daring you to challenge what you think you understand.

Occult principles don’t aim to replace science—they simply just… fill in its gaps. They explain not just the mechanics of life but the meaning, the purpose, the strange and chaotic connections that defy logic.

They don’t seek to fix the world; they ask what the world is asking of you. And sometimes, just by asking the right question; life is far more enjoyable than always trying to find the answers.

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For all it’s oh these things are a sign of madness, all the activities said to be done by spiral avatars is actually really fun. Like making monstrosities of clay, coffee which keeps you up at night, even drawing fractals it’s really rather relaxing it gets you into a zen meditative state, repeating the same sets of rules over and over again.

Like the voice of Michael and it’s rants are calming, they don’t really go on as lengthy rants as we remember and they don’t use so many metaphors or poetic descriptions.

But yeah the spiral for all it’s maddenings actually is pretty chill.

Also think about it letting go of certainty and right or wrong is so freeing, you’re just a deluded liar and so’s everything else. If someone is rude to you well that’s what they believe, it’s not really an us thing.

Also you start to think more abstractly, like as in being able to see how arbitrary and made up language and mathematics is, and social structures too.

Also then there is the ideas of absurdity, like we are nothing and kind of something, all things lie, and we’re no exception. So like accept others, because to them their delusions are truth as are your own.

Like chill out and stop trying to impose logic on yourself and others when you are illogical, abstract concepts

You know? It’s actually really great