#neural oscillations

[anftherapy]

🧠 Dive into the fascinating world of neural oscillations! Neurons aren’t just cells; they’re the rhythmic pulse of our body, creating frequencies that resonate through every tissue, organ, and gland.

With billions of unique neuronal types, the diversity in neural activity is astonishing. But what happens when these crucial oscillations are disrupted?

From disorders to immune response impairments, the balance of our physiological functions hangs in the balance. That’s where ANF Therapy® comes in, employing cutting-edge device technology to fine-tune these neural frequencies and restore our body’s harmony.

🔬 Discover how ANF Therapy® targets everything from chronic inflammation to pain relief, employing a range of devices, each fine-tuned to different neuronal frequencies. It’s not just therapy; it’s a revolution in understanding and harnessing our body’s own neural network.

Experience immediate results, from optimized organ function to pain reduction, all thanks to the normalization of neural oscillations. Ready to see the science in action?

[strikeanothermatch]

Mild social shame works, unfortunately! The other week someone at a party was like "oh wow is that actually a juul" and now I'm quitting for real

[mariasont]

limerence

you're not a fan of fireworks. luckily, spencer's not a fan of letting you suffer in silence, especially when he has obscure marine biology facts and lap space to spare.

pairing: spencer reid x shy!reader warnings: fluff yipee, fireworks, some discussion of sensory overload, reader in spencer's lap (we up!), spencer is very in love, established relationship, kissing prompt: here! wc: 0.6k

“At night, the jellyfish showed an increase in the time to first pulse and the time to reach bottom compared to during the day. This increased latency in response to stimulus indicates that Cassiopea have reduced responsiveness to stimulus during the night.”

The article is still warm from its ill-fated stint on the radiator, a rushed drying technique he knew was a bad idea, but tried anyway.

He smooths a corner with one thumb, eyes scanning each line. He printed it after you mumbled something about fireworks being… well, not fun. You didn’t say you hated fireworks (you would never be so bold), but just gave him a thoughtful wrinkle of your nose, followed by, “I don’t think colors exploding overhead is my thing.” 

Which, coming from you, translated almost perfectly to please don’t make me pretend I like loud things for your sake.

And If he were being honest, and he’s not, because you’re very pretty and he’s only human, he would admit that he studies you more attentively than he’s studied any dissertation subjects. A concerning thought for his sanity, less so for his ego.

Now you’re tucked against him on the couch, limbs tangled and deposited half-haphazardly across his lap. Your toes nudge his thigh once, then again.

“Out with it,” he says.

A sour look fortifies on your face as cock your head to one side. “What?”

“That face. The I-have-a-question-but-I-don’t-want-to-seem-annoying face. It’s very cute. Not very stealthy.”

He does not mention, of course, that it’s his favorite face. Or how, embarrassingly, he’s sort of banking on you never perfecting your stealth because then he might stop getting to decode all your thoughts in real-time. Which would be weird, obviously. So instead he bites the inside of his cheek.

“So they slow down when it’s dark, but you’re telling me that’s not sleep?”

“Well, what we define as sleep involves identifiable neural oscillations and circadian regulation. Jellyfish lack a centralized nervous system, so technically, they’re not sleeping. But they exhibit behavior that’s, functionally, sleep-adjacent.” He pauses, glancing at you. “You’re not convinced, are you.”

“Sleep-adjacent feels like a cop-out to me, but okay.” You’re moving mid-sentence, elbows and knees negotiating gravity as you clamber into his lap.

It’s entirely impossible for him to continue arguing with you, especially when a firework splits the sky behind you, washing your face in quicksilver blue glow.

Your eyes dart briefly toward it, reflection shimmering against your lashes, before returning to him. He sets the paper aside, letting it flutter to the floor as his hands come to cup the curve of your spine.

He feels your heartbeat beneath his fingertips, fluttering quicker with every sudden burst overhead.

“You’re going to make a terrible research assistant if you keep rejecting my terminology.” There’s a hint of smile tugging at his lips. “But I guess I could keep you around for… morale.”

You gasp. “I would be an excellent research assistant. You’re the one who brought reading material after promising to relax for once.”

“I did promise that, didn’t I?” He muses. “Relaxing is subjective.” One hand rises to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “And you make it easier. So technically, this is collaborative rest.”

“Is that in the paper, too?” you whisper, fingertips tracing the edge of his collar, the slow movement sending a flush of warmth straight through his bloodstream. “The part where jellyfish respond better to affection-based co-regulation?” 

He exhales, a sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh, gaze dipping involuntarily to where your red-painted nails press into his skin.

“That, uh…” he murmurs, “no, that wasn’t explicitly covered in the research.”

“Feels like a major oversight.” You tilt your head, bottom lip jutting out. “I’ll submit an addendum.”

A firework cracks sharply behind, and Spencer nearly jumps this time, though he catches himself just in time. You would never let him live that down.

“Add it to the record,” he mutters — and then he kisses you. Thoroughly.

join me at the lake for my 5k event!

maria's red, white and bau masterlist

[sirxaibs]

Veritas Ratio HSR X Reader

“Stubborn, Stubborn, Stubborn.”

masterlist

You’re apart of the crew and an aspiring scientist. Though focusing in the forensics field to help out on missions.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. You hunched over a cluttered desk inside Herta’s Space Station, scribbling notes that looked more like deciphered codes than legible science. The quiet hum of machinery served as a backdrop to your forced concentration, punctuated every so often by the sharp scratch of a pen.

Dr. Veritas Ratio sat a few feet away, posture rigid, eyes sharp beneath a veil of bangs, hand flying across the pages of his own leather bound book like a man possessed.

This wasn’t what you imagined when you signed up to “shadow the renowned Dr. Ratio for advanced forensic learning.” You wanted to expand your skills, help the crew better on field missions because for some god forsaken reason, every time you stepped foot on a new planet, you were the one knee deep in clues, bodies, and mysteries no one asked for. It only made sense to sharpen your mind where it counted. days in and Dr. Ratio had barely acknowledged you unless he was critiquing your logic like a middle school science project.

Still, you tried again.

“So,” you started, voice casual, “when you said the neural pathways respond to stimulation, were you implying synaptic frequency increases even without cognitive awareness, or?”

“I was referring,” he interrupted at lightning speed, “to the involuntary oscillation of signal transmissions under external influence, something any second year biologist could tell you. Your phrasing was inaccurate, misleading, and honestly bordering on theoretical idiocy.”

You blinked, stunned into silence not because you were offended, but because his words were fired off like bullets from a gatling gun. You couldn’t even keep up enough to be offended. Still, you smiled, brows raised. “Right… of course. That’s what I meant. Totally.”

He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge the sarcasm. Just kept writing. You sighed, staring at your notes and trying to find the motivation to continue copying something down about tissue decomposition in altered gravity conditions. But your thoughts were elsewhere specifically: “The brain is a muscle, my ass,” you thought bitterly. “This man is a stick in the mud.”

You tried once more, adjusting your chair just enough to glance at him. “Hey, uh… Ratio?” He didn’t stop writing. “I just wanted to let you know it’s my last day here. The Express is taking off tonight.”

He paused. Pen hovered in midair. For the first time in hours, he turned to look at you. “Then I suppose this is farewell,” he said evenly. “Any mind still desperate to learn more is worth a modicum of effort.” You blinked. That actually sounded… almost like a compliment? “But you remain, unfortunately, idiotic.”

There it was.

You couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped. “Thanks, I’ll take that as the most affectionate thing you’ve said all week.”

“There is no affection in scientific discourse,” he replied, already back to his book.

You exhaled hard through your nose. There’s no pleasing this man. Still, you gathered your things, slung your bag over your shoulder, and gave him a nod. “Appreciate the time. Really. Maybe next time, I’ll come back knowing enough to offend you less.”

Ratio didn’t look up. “Unlikely, but your optimism is statistically entertaining.”

You paused at the door and gave one last look over your shoulder. No goodbye. Just the steady scratch of pen on paper. Annoying. Insufferable. Condescending. You had plenty of normal conversations with Ruan Mei, Screwllum, even Herta who could be a little unhinged but at least talked like a human being. you couldn’t say you didn’t learn something. Even if you wanted to shove him into a simulation chamber and press “random.”

Sighing, you stepped out of the lab, muttering to yourself, “The man needs a personality transplant. Or at least a nap.” Time to go back to the Astral Express. Hopefully, without being called an idiot in five different academic dialects.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. Dr. Veritas Ratio stood alone in the silence of Herta’s Space Station lab, the ambient hum of machinery now a mere background to his thoughts. The room still carried the faint trace of your presence a slightly skewed chair, a half empty data pad left untouched, a worn notebook you used with mismatched doodles and scientific scribbles alike. He stared at the door for longer than he intended after you had left.

“Hmph.” His voice echoed softly in the quiet room, as if irritated by his own lingering stillness.

With a sharp breath, he returned to his seat, flipping open the leather bound journal he had been writing in not his own research logs, but something far more… unwieldy.

A chronicle. An account. An observation. You. You, the girl who barged into his space several days ago claiming she was eager to “learn more about forensics” so she could stop playing amateur detective across the galaxy like some kind of self declared interstellar sleuth. The girl who stood there in front of him bright eyed, annoyingly persistent, armed with nothing but a notepad and a smile that dared him to reject her.

He should have said no. Really. He meant to.

Entry One:

She is insufferably stubborn.

From the moment she entered, she challenged my authority not with words, but with that relentless, aggravating optimism. It’s like trying to teach science to a golden retriever that insists on wagging its tail every time it gets a basic equation right.

She surrounds herself with the imbecile crew of the Astral Express each of them so charmingly flawed that one would need earplugs just to survive a conversation. She listens. She stares at equations like a brain dead dog. if puzzles are worth solving, and when she gets them wrong…

Ratio’s pen slowed for a second.

Entry Three:

I threw a book at her.

She botched a rudimentary breakdown of spatial decay honestly, I still don’t understand how someone confuses atomic diffusion rates with heat based deconstruction and I threw a book at her.

He tapped the end of the pen to the page.

She didn’t cry. Didn’t storm out. She laughed. Actually laughed. Rubbed the back of her head and said, “Should’ve known you’d have better aim than that,” before flipping back to her notes and reworking the entire equation.

Stubborn. Stubborn. Stubborn.

He underlined the word twice.

Entry Five:

She got something right today.

Not just right. Brilliant, actually. She identified a miscalculation in a gravitational bleed pattern I hadn’t even caught yet. I told her it was “adequate.” She beamed like I’d handed her a Nobel Prize.

Ratio exhaled slowly at the memory. There had been more moments like that. More times than he cared to admit where he’d look at her work and see genuine understanding growing like a slow, tenacious weed through cracked pavement.

She was undisciplined. A jumbled mess of deduction and instinct. But she was learning.

He flipped to the last few pages in the book, where neat bullet points were written in his precise hand. Not for himself. For her.

• You need to stop jumping to conclusions without sufficient data.

• Emotion clouds deduction. Maintain detachment until evidence is confirmed.

• Your spatial awareness is strong. Consider pursuing work in trajectory and motion based forensics.

• Your memory recall, while clumsy, is oddly adaptive. You seem to remember patterns more than facts use that.

• Stop doodling in the margins.

And then, written softer, smaller, like it embarrassed him:

• You are better than you think. Just… be better still.

He hadn’t meant to go into so much detail. It was just supposed to be notes. Brief, simple. A few guiding remarks she could use once she returned to playing Sherlock on alien planets. But the longer he spent around her, the more the book filled. He would’ve given it to her. That was the plan. Hand it off as a cold farewell and return to his own work, alone, uninterrupted.

But when she said she was leaving, a strange ache settled in his chest. He had closed the book instead. He told her she was idiotic. That was easier than saying anything else. He wasn’t built for sentiment.

But now, in the sterile quiet of the lab, he opened the book again and stared at the last empty page. His pen hovered for a moment before he wrote:

You were the most tolerable nuisance I’ve encountered.

He closed the book. Folded his arms. And sat there, in silence. Holding the only piece of you he could.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. The Astral Express had settled into its familiar rhythm a quiet lull between the catastrophe that just occurred. You sat in your room, sprawled on your back atop your bed, legs dangling off the side as a small packet of data chips and half doodled notes littered the floor beneath you. The lighting was dim, and soft music played in the background something March had been trying to get everyone into. Bubblegum pop something or other. You didn’t mind it.

Then, your terminal lit up with an incoming call.

Caller ID: Dr. Veritas Ratio

You blinked. Seriously? The last time you’d heard from Ratio was months ago, back when you’d finished your “training” with him at Herta’s Space Station. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t sent a single follow up. Hell, you figured he forgot you existed. Which was fine. He’d called you idiotic more times than you could count. You got the message.

So why the sudden contact? You leaned over, smacked the “Answer” button with your palm, and sat back again, letting the hologram flicker to life. The familiar sight of Ratio appeared sharply dressed, arms crossed, and already mid glare.

“Have all of you completely lost your minds?” he barked.

“Wow, no hello? You’ve really softened over the months,” you drawled, stretching your arms above your head and letting out a long yawn.

Ratio ignored the comment. “You brought it on board. A Stellaron. A living, breathing, ticking time bomb and you you let them install it into the crew roster like it’s a decorative lamp!”

“Not me,” you replied casually. “That was Himeko and Welt’s call. I was too busy teaching March how to tell the difference between a footprint and a crater.”

He leaned closer into the hologram, voice sharp as shattered glass. “And you didn’t stop them?”

You tilted your head, gaze flat. “Ratio, I’ve learned many things in my life. One of which is: you do not argue with Himeko unless you want to be questioning your own sexuality.”

“This is reckless. Irresponsible. Foolhardy. Welt Yang used to be logical.”

“He still is,” you said, picking at a thread in your blanket. “Realistically, this was the safest option.”

“Oh?” Ratio lifted a brow, sarcasm soaking every syllable. “Yes, why not keep the volatile Stellaron host onboard the most advanced dimensional train known to man? Surely the best place for a cosmic disaster seed is inside the space equivalent of a floating museum.”

“See? You do have a heart,” you said, smiling slightly. “You’re worried about us.”

“I’m worried about the structural integrity of your ship, and the illogical stupidity of a crew that includes people like well, like you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Ratio scowled. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

You rolled onto your side, cheek pressed to your pillow, gaze on the projection of his furious form pacing like a scientist on the edge of an aneurysm. “No, I am. I just also live on a train that is fully capable of going against the Antimatter Legion, hunted by robots, and now has an amnesiac walking stellar bomb with a winning smile and a personality March immediately adopted like a stray puppy. You’ll excuse me if I conserve my panic energy.”

Ratio paused, folding his arms. “You’ve grown bolder.”

“You called me idiotic for a week straight. I had to evolve or die.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, softly so softly you barely caught it he muttered

You blinked, eyebrows lifting. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Still. You would be wise to proceed with caution. The Stellaron may not act today or tomorrow, but entropy is inevitable. One misstep, and it could unravel every layer of existence you so casually nap on.”

You smiled lazily. “I missed your bedtime stories.”

“You are insufferable.”

“You called me.”

Ratio paused. For a flicker of a second, his expression shifted barely visible, like a crack in marble. Thoughtful. Frustrated. Maybe even… hesitant. “you have a brain. And I don’t like seeing it wasted.” He gestured vaguely in your direction. “You’re tolerable when you’re being cautious.”

“And you’re tolerable when you’re not actively trying to kill me with a migraine.”

The hologram began to glitch slightly signal fading as the Express entered another sector.

Ratio’s voice cut through one last time before the line ended: “Just don’t get comfortable. You may not always have time to brace for the explosion.”

Then the screen blinked to black. You sat there, the weight of his words hanging in the room like smoke.

“…Still didn’t say goodbye,” you murmured, grabbing your tea and taking a slow sip. You weren’t worried.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. Herta’s Space Station was bustling with its usual polite chaos researchers skittering around with datapads too big for their hands, drones zipping above heads, experiments sparking in sealed chambers. The scent of metal and burnt circuitry lingered faintly in the air. A strangely nostalgic aroma, really.

You had come here for one reason and one reason only: to visit Screwllum. The robotic genius had promised to show you a new forensic simulation model, one that could track theoretical blood spatter in zero gravity. You were deeply interested, and by “deeply interested,” you meant giddy like a child with a crime scene coloring book.

You weren’t expecting to see him. Not as you rounded the corner of the central archive, passing Herta’s projection arguing with itself, and almost bumped headfirst into a tall figure already ranting at a researcher over some miscalculation involving quantum probability flow.

“Dr. Ratio,” you breathed, blinking once.

He turned toward you slowly. You immediately put your hands over your mouth, gasped dramatically, and staggered back a step. If he gets to ghost you, why cant you have fun yourself?

“Veritas? Is it really you?” you cried, voice shaking like a widow in a play. “The universe said you were lost to the abyss of academia, never to be seen again! I we I waited so long!”

Ratio stared at you, expression unreadable but very much unimpressed. “You’re being absurd.”

“Absurdly in love,” you swooned, grabbing his arm with faux desperation. “I swore I’d wait, no matter how long the stars turned. You you arrogant bastard you came back.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” he replied flatly. “Ill have you know that if you even tried i would’ve answered. You were simply too busy pretending to be a detective on every rock you stumbled across.”

“not one letter. Not one call. Do you have any idea how I’ve suffered? Ive missed my stuck up asshole of a husband”

He raised an eyebrow. “You were messaging Screwllum memes less than twelve hours ago.”

You blinked. “Screwllum loves my memes. Don’t derail me trying to make you look like a bad husband.”

“I should’ve let you fail the entropy unit,” he muttered, brushing your hands off like you were a particularly annoying layer of dust.

You laughed, arms crossing over your chest. “Still as insufferable as ever, Ratio. You really know how to make a girl feel welcome.”

Ratio returned to his datapad. “If by ‘welcome’ you mean ‘tolerated,’ then yes. I remain consistent.”

There was a beat of silence. The usual static hum of the station pulsed around you. You tilted your head slightly, observing him not just as a former mentor or your favorite verbal sparring partner, but as someone you honestly missed.

You stepped a little closer, voice dropping. “Hey… could we catch up a bit?”

He paused. His fingers hovered over the datapad. Just for a second. Then, slowly, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye.

“why”

You smiled. “Ok big guy is asking the questions, I suppose I just want to see how you’re doing.”

Ratio’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smirk. “I suppose… some minds are worth the occasional recalibration.”

“Is that your way of saying ‘yes’?”

“It’s my way of saying you’re still stubborn and prone to foolishness but slightly less irritating than most of the imbeciles I suffer daily.”

You beamed. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Ratio glanced away, resuming his work. “Don’t get sentimental.”

But you saw the way his posture shifted less tense, a fraction more open.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. Ratio’s quarters were exactly what you expected and somehow even more Ratio than you thought possible.

Minimalist, sterile, everything arranged with sharp symmetry almost clinical, like the man had tried to recreate a science lab in the shape of a bedroom. The lighting was dim, a soft overhead hue that neither strained the eyes nor dared to be comforting. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls, but not a single one looked even slightly out of place. His desk had no dust, no loose wires, no snacks just data pads, models, papers arranged in brutal harmony. despite all the perfect order, there was something kind of… homey about it. Or maybe you were just losing your mind. Probably the latter.

“I’ll return shortly,” he said earlier, stepping out with a brief mention of fetching something from Screwllum or threatening Herta’s projection into silence you weren’t sure which. His voice was already vanishing down the hall as you nodded absently, too curious about seeing this inner sanctum of his to stop him.

Which is how you ended up alone in the room and your eyes landed on the book. You hadn’t seen it since your time as his reluctant partner slash student slash mental punching bag. Leather bound, its corners slightly worn, it sat there on the desk like it had been placed just for you to find it. An artifact of a past so recent it still itched under your skin. You told yourself to leave it alone. You didn’t. Fingers brushed the cover. You opened it.

The first few pages were filled with sharp, scathing commentary written in Ratio’s precise, aggressively legible handwriting. Your early days of working together where you barely kept up and made mistakes that, according to him, “required divine intervention to unsee.” You scoffed, flipping forward.

There were notes, not just about your blunders, but about what you’d done right. Diagrams you’d drawn that he’d annotated, not with insults, but improvement suggestions. Questions you’d asked that he’d praised though usually in the most begrudging tone imaginable.

You flipped further. Dates from after your training had ended appeared.

She let that walking disaster <Stelle> on board. Of course she did. Her loyalty to the crew is stronger than her self preservation. Idiotic.

…Though, if she’s the one monitoring it, perhaps there’s hope it won’t implode immediately.

Your brows lifted. Another entry, this time sloppier, less rigid:

Saw her solve a multi layer deduction test from Ruan Mei’s simulation. Beat the projection time by five minutes. Either she’s improving rapidly… or cheating. I doubt the latter. Annoying. Impressive.

And then:

You were the most tolerable nuisance I’ve encountered.

You stared at that line for a long time, blinking. Your heart gave the smallest traitorous flutter. Ratio? Writing that down? In his own personal notes? Voluntarily?

“Veritas Veritas Veritas,” you whispered, amused, letting the book rest gently on the desk again, “you’re so down bad and you don’t even know it.”

You glanced around the room with new eyes now. Not just a workspace. There were signs of you scattered in the margins things you’d said that he’d scribbled down verbatim, questions you’d asked, observations you’d made. There, in this sterile haven of knowledge, you existed. When the door slid open again with that same low mechanical hiss, you didn’t turn immediately. You kept your hands at your sides, innocent, as Ratio entered holding a datapad and a cup of something that definitely wasn’t coffee.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You moved things,” he said bluntly.

You turned, grinning. “I breathed in here. Hope that’s not too much.”

Ratio’s eyes zeroed in on the open book like a hawk spotting a wounded animal. The datapad in his hand made a dull thud as he dropped it to the desk beside you.

“You read it,” he said, voice low, clipped. It wasn’t a question. It was a fact delivered like an accusation.

You opened your mouth, but he was already moving, closing the book in one motion that was more violent than necessary. His eyes flicked to you, sharp with something between irritation and disbelief. “That book was for me. My documentation. My evaluations. Not for you to comb through like some sentimental schoolgirl with a crush.”

You just raised your hands a little in mock surrender. “Okay, first of all ow. Second, maybe don’t leave emotionally repressed love letters in plain sight if you don’t want them read.”

His scowl deepened. “You are not the center of my notes. You were a case study in irritating persistence.”

You smiled. “A tolerable nuisance, if I remember correctly.”

“I regret ever writing that.”

“You do not.”

Ratio looked like he was about to snap again, but your tone shifted before he could. A little more sincere this time. Less teasing.

“Look, before you combust into quantum dust or something, I’ve been doing the same thing. Kind of.”

That made him blink. His arms crossed tightly, jaw clenched.

You shrugged. “Whenever there was news. Whenever Screwllum or Herta mentioned something cool you did. Whenever you published something with Ruan Mei. I’d log it in a little virtual journal. Notes, quotes, observations. Even drew a diagram of your frustrated face once. It was very detailed.”

“You tracked my activity?” His voice was dry with disbelief.

“Kept tabs,” you corrected. “I mean, you did teach me how to observe patterns and record data. I thought it’d be fun to apply it to you.”

Ratio stared at you. Hard.

You grinned again, stepping closer now, just into his space, enough to make him instinctively stiffen. “So, if you like me so much, Veritas…” you tilted your head, voice dipping into a teasing lilt, “it doesn’t have to stay theoretical.”

The room went dead silent. Ratio’s eye twitched.

“I do not like you.”

You leaned back with a smug hum, hands slipping behind your back. “Sure. That’s why you wrote, ‘perhaps there’s hope it won’t implode immediately.’ About me and the crew.”

“That was in reference to the logistical risk of hosting a walking bomb, not an emotional attac—”

“You said impressive, Ratio.”

“I said annoying right before.”

You shrugged. “And still impressive.”

Ratio turned away from you, muttering curses under his breath in a tone too quiet to catch. But he didn’t tell you to leave. Didn’t shove you out or erase his notes or block access to his quarters. Instead, he sat, flipped open a new file on his datapad, and typed exactly three words

Emotional interference: persistent.

You laughed as you settled in across from him.

“Glad I’m still in your data set.”

[bunji-enthusiast]

𝐘𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐲’𝐬 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐈

Summary || The factory makes you learn the cold unforgiving truth soon enough.

WC: 1k

A/N: part 2 was requested! Augh, Yarnaby my boy :(

The cold, sterile walls of the examination room seem to close in as you sit in a metal chair, hands trembling. Across from you, Dr. Harley Sawyer, now mostly a walking machine with twisted wires and circuits visible beneath his skin, leans forward, his eyes gleaming with a cold curiosity. His voice is low, almost amused, as he studies you.

“Tell me, child, why are you here?” The one singular eye stays indomitable, searching your gait. As if he was waiting for something more, something that easily made your heart tick.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his gaze. You try to remember how you got here, but everything blurs into a nightmarish haze. Memories are a fickle thing, he supposed.

"I... I was on a field trip. We went to Playtime Co. for a tour... to see the factory." You said, almost numbly wriggling in your seat, trying to not let the chill of the room get to you. The attempt oscillates.

He notices.

The Doctor tilts his head, the metal plates on his face emitting noise as he scans the child’s expression. One clink or two, just a small look into his thoughts. Just barely, perhaps. The silence doesn’t last longer than intended.

"And then?"

Your head tilts at his prodding, mental, or otherwise. It was as if he was trying to curl into the weight of your brain, the neural mapping of your thoughts. Maybe it was fear, or something else that heavily weighs into the metal shoulders of his. Though you paid no mind, you were a young child, and you preferably wouldn’t want to find out whatever it was. The energy he radiated was… mysterious.

"We went into Playcare... I don't know. I remember... screams. Screams from above. And then the crash... the train crash."

Your voice falters, mind flashing back to the horror. The weight of the memories raze your emotions, "My teacher... she was... killed. By that... thing. A Jack-in-the-box monster, Boxy Boo. It..."

The words catch in your throat as you try to push away the memory. You can’t forget the sight of their teacher being torn apart, the sound of the springs and the horrific laughter that filled the air. Such a gruesome sight was difficult to forget, who could ever forget every little detail, significant — or insignificant.

"I... I passed out from the smoke. Red smoke. And when I woke up, I saw him. Yarnaby. He was coming toward me, with those... eyes." Eyes easy enough to invade your once wonderful dreams, turning it into a nightmare like no other. Especially for someone as small as your stature.

You shudder, recalling the strange, multicolored lion and his unsettling grin.

Dr. Sawyer doesn’t react immediately. His face is unreadable, his metallic fingers tapping rhythmically on the metal table.

Finally, he speaks, breaking the disconcert silence with an oddly quiet tone; "Fascinating. And yet, you are not an orphan. Why is that, I wonder?"

You look down at your hands, suddenly aware of how different your situation seems from what the Doctor expects. You’ve always had a family—always had a place to go home to. And yet here you are, caught in this terrifying web. Only the vague warmth of your mother’s hug, and your father’s kind eyes remind you of what you had so suddenly been stripped away from. You barely have grown just yet.

"I don't... I don’t know why. I was just a kid... we were just on a field trip." The truth in your words ring an unbearing kind of hurt, so easily trodden upon, easy to mold and shape. Children trust, they laugh, they share kindness. A different kind of honesty.

And it hurts.

The Doctor’s expression softens, but only for a moment, before a sharp, knowing look creeps into his eyes. He mutters to himself, almost absentmindedly. "Reminds me of Riley... the child who left those pathetic little diary entries. So much potential. So much to learn. And yet... they were not meant to stay."

The Doctor leaned closer, the energy he radiated grew more intense. Whether it was intentional, his gait made it palpable.

"So, tell me, child. What do you think is going on here?"

You don’t know how to respond. Your heart pounds in your chest. There’s a dark curiosity in the Doctor’s voice, a madness hiding beneath the surface. It was something at play, and it was not something that you wished to dive into. Yet, you sense that you were not allowed the momentary transition of peace to be allowed to leave.

Hesitantly, you spoke, "Why... why are you doing this?"

The Doctor tilts his head again, his mechanical face emitting a soft whir. You both knew the answer.

"Why not?"

His smile, if it can be called that, stretches across his face as he leans back, watching little you with unsettling interest. The sound of metal creaks as he stands, his chair scraping across the floor.

Suddenly, a heavy thud echoes in the room, and Yarnaby enters, his multicolored yarn mane swaying as he lumbers closer. His amber eyes are fixed on you, and for a brief moment, you felt a strange tugging sensation—a cold, possessive feeling, as though something inside Yarnaby is claiming you

The Doctor observes the interaction with an almost detached amusement. "Yarnaby... You know what to do."

Before you can even react, Yarnaby leans in, his grotesque, monstrous form slowly morphing from his playful appearance into something far more terrifying. His face splits open, revealing that horrifying hollowed-out mouth, filled with jagged teeth and dripping with blood.

You froze in terror, unable to move, as Yarnaby presses his fangs into your arm. The pain is immediate and sharp, searing through your skin as the lion marks them—his property now.

"NO!" You scream, but it’s too late. Yarnaby pulls away, blood dripping from his mouth, as the Doctor moves quickly to bandage the wound.

"Good. You are his now."

His voice is almost detached, as if this is a routine procedure for him. Your mind was spinning, everything unraveling faster than you can process.

"Take them back to the cell. Let’s see if we can’t make a toy out of this one too."

Yarnaby growls softly in agreement, his eerie eyes never leaving you as he gently but firmly takes you by the arm, leading you out of the examination room. You stumble, barely able to keep your balance, as the Doctor’s voice echoes behind you.

"After all, what is a toy if not something to be molded? Something to be... played with."

The door shuts behind you, and you are left to wonder if you’ll ever see the outside world again. As Yarnaby leads you down the cold, dark corridors of the facility, your only hope is that somehow, against all odds, you can escape this nightmare. But for now, you are Yarnaby’s, and there is no escaping the twisted grip of Playtime Co.

[definitely-not-a-wasp]

One of the things I want to be explored more is Max's general inability to connect with people outside of her immediate circle. Not in the "I'm so socially awkward" way or even "I grew up feral" way, but in the way of Max having spent the first 14 years of her life having everyone she interacted with divided into family or enemies.

Like, this isn't even fully psychology at this point, it's neurology. When her neural pathways were at their infancy all the way up to when her prefrontal cortex was mostly developed, she had the flock that she would die for, and everyone else who wanted to hurt her. That's it. It's no fucking wonder that she felt like Dr. Martinez and Ella were practically family after three days, and that's because her brain has no reference for making friends or casual acquaintances. They were nice to her, and that means they're not enemies, and there's only one other slot in her brain for them to into. It's no wonder that she felt disjointed in Virginia's private school, even when she was trying to make friends, because she's attempting to do something that she has no frame of reference for. Of course Jeb kept wildly oscillating between "my dad who was misguided but tried his best" and "the worst person alive", because he was one of her enemies until age 10 and then immediately made a switch to her caretaker, and that only enforced the dichotomy in her head.

She cannot relate to other people outside of these two scopes. The closest she gets is the romance, and even that has the undercurrent of family because even with all her options (and she had several), she always circled back to Fang. The romance is just an extension of a dynamic that's written into her brain.

And I think there's something genuinely sad about that. How it stunts her ability to interact with other people, how it creates an inability for nuance in her mind. And, ultimately, how it's something she never learns to outgrow.

[hummingjay]

My First OC that I haven't Scrapped in like a week: Kasuar or the Cassowary, flightless harbringer of rage. Fun fact, she was originally an OC Ara unit that was put into the war and I eventually just made her into a different replika type and now she is the manifestation of my rage.

Two pages of lore and three pages of bonus doodles under the cut!

KSAR  (Kampf-schlicht-angriff-replika) “Kasuar”

(Combat-simple-attack-replica) “Cassowary”

Light infantry units, 190 (yes, the pic is innacurate) centimeters tall. Light Infantry units mostly used in frontal attacks, excelling in trench and siege warfare.

Kasuars love combat and possess an easy persona to manage with bladed weapons as stabilizing objects. Originally meant to be cheap and simple long-stationed infantry for light work, their violent personalities have convinced our ÆON strategists to exploit their use as beserkers.

Their Neural maps are from a religious zealot of a religion long-banned by both the Empire and the Nation called ##########, their fanaticism now directed towards near-religious patriotism not dissimilar to worship. They suffer from what commanding officers call “extreme bloodlust”, and will wrestle violently with one another, often sustaining injuries from the practice even when not in combat. These units generally imprint on nearby STAR or STCR units, admiring them for their close-quarters-combat prowess, and they regard SAPR units as parental and protective figures, often more willing to listen to them than their commanding officer. For this reason it’s not uncommon for Kasuars to hang on to Schnäpper units as they walk. If their Starling or Storch dies or is decomissioned, they will fall into a state of rage or sadness, sometimes oscillating between the two. It’s also not unheard of for Kasuars to become romantically attracted to respective Starlings and Storches.

They carry bladed weapons, usually heavier ones such as swords and axes as fetish objects. When given the chance, these units relish CQC and will violently maim enemies, storming trenches like rabid animals unless explicitly told to take prisoners. After being disarmed it is not uncommon for units to use discarded limbs as blunt weapons, which they will later carve the bones of which into tools or decorations. Though technically contraband, it’s recommended to not confiscate the morbid carvings. They like to decorate their firearms with flower petals on string, and are fond of Ara units who help them find or grow flowers to gather the petals. They generally treat medical units such as Eules with a strong fondness and will keep a close eye on them to keep them safe. One can grow close to them by catching them sharpening their weapons, when they are at their calmest, when conversation can be initiated. Do not speak of religion of any sort. An additional method of getting close to a Kasuar is gifting them a blunt weapon such as a hammer or club. The more elaborate the weapon the better, and one-handed weapons are preferred, in contrast towards their preferences towards bladed weapons. Do not gift a Kasuar a dagger, as this act is seen as a declaration of love, ill-advised unless one is willing to reciprocate. Kasuars are fervently devoted to their lovers and will carve totems as gifts.

They have a strong group culture akin to Starlings, which they allow other units to enter, though rarely, by proving themselves to the cadre. Eules who heal the cadre report that the units are surprisingly gentle with those who don’t enjoy violence and allow the Eules to style their hair, which is longer than most replikas. Storches and Starlings who enter will often wrestle with them. Kasuars will dig trenches and small openings in the ground for Ara units they grow fond of. Kasuars will sleep close to their compatriots, side to side in a straight line. Older Kasuars sometimes whisper odd chantings in their sleep. Never place a Kolibri or other bioresonant unit near them during this time, as the they will experience deeply unsettling nightmares which they refuse to recount. 

Degraded Kasuars are angry and difficult to control, often crying for hours, before possibly falling into a state of insanity-induced violence towards both allies and enemies due to combat fatigue. This state is called ‘wutblindheit’ by medical units and is untreatable but temporary. It is possible to have a Starling, Storch or Schnäpper that they have grown close to calm them down. It’s also best to give them a blanket and have their respective Starling or Storch talk to them. Once degraded, Kasuars will either fall into a state of wutblindeit or revert to disturbing rituals such as cutting the palm, drinking their own oxidant, making necklaces from body parts such as fingers, seldom but possibly their own, and carving odd symbols from banned religions onto their flesh and armor. The practices are possible remnants of a gestalt life and are mostly harmless to others unless they are interrupted or told to cease, which causes them to attack whoever ordered them to stop. Decommissioning is difficult and it is better to send them on a task with an abyssmal survivability rate.

For reasons unknown, Kasuars have a deep love of animals, often attempting to befriend dogs, cats, birds, and horses, and will keep large spiders or centipedes as group pets. It is not uncommon for Kasuars to allow their bugs to build webs and burrows on vehicles. After finding a pet the Kasuars will come together to name it. If an officer is to confiscate the animal it is to be done before this happens, as named pets are honored as part of the cadre, sometimes brought into battle. Some ÆON commanders actually encourage this practice, as seeing a soldier with a centipede coiled around their arm is intimidating at best. The death of named pets speeds degradation, but this can be countered by allowing the cadre to mourn properly. Attempting to gift a replacement pet is ill-advised and viewed as an insult to the previous pet.

Kasuars have a deep love of their melee weapons, keeping them in pristine condition and even sleeping with them. Kasuars rarely allow others to hold their weapons, and often the weapons of fallen Kasuars will be passed to lovers or friends. In the case of a Kasuar allowing one to hold her weapon, know that this is a sign of feeling safe, and is a declaration of affection second only to gifting a dagger.

Kasuars show fear so rarely that it is thought that they are incapable of the emotion, making them ever-suitable for the dangerous tasks they find themselves on. However, in the rare case of a FLKR unit being stationed near Kasuars, they will show signs of deep fear, nervousness, and agitation. Officers report that Kasuars will jump at the sound of a Falke’s voice, and will resort to rubbing the neck and forearms, as if checking for wounds. ÆON psychologists speculate that Falke unit voice modules resemble the mother figure of the gestalt neural template, the former of which has a civil record of domestic violence and abuse. In the case of this agitation, Kasuar units will retreat to areas deemed safe, usually near trusted Schnäppers, Starlings, Storches, and sometimes medical units that healed them in the past. If reprimanded harshly by Falke units, Kasuar units will often retreat to tents where they can be heard crying and muttering that they are safe repeatedly. It is best to have a gestalt officer act as a relay point between Falke units and Kasuars. Never allow a Falke to physically touch a Kasuar, not even gently,, as they will become even more agitated and will freeze up, and will refuse to speak for days on end. The Kasuars in the cadre will become extremely protective of the agitated Kasuar and will refuse to let anyone see her until she has calmed down, sometimes screaming at medical units to stay away.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Alzheimer's-like brain changes found in long COVID patients - Published Sept 2, 2024

New research from the University of Kentucky's Sanders-Brown Center on Aging shows compelling evidence that the cognitive impairments observed in long COVID patients share striking similarities with those seen in Alzheimer's disease and related dementias.

The study, published in Alzheimer's & Dementia, highlights a potential commonality in brain disorders across these conditions that could pave the way for new avenues in research and treatment.

The study was a global effort, and brought together experts from various fields of neuroscience. Researchers at the UK College of Medicine led the study, including Yang Jiang, Ph.D., professor in the Department of Behavioral Science; Chris Norris, Ph.D., professor in the Department of Pharmacology and Nutritional Sciences; and Bob Sompol, Ph.D., assistant professor in the Department of Pharmacology and Nutritional Sciences. Their work focuses on electrophysiology, neuroinflammation, astrocytes and synaptic functions.

"This project benefited greatly from interdisciplinary collaboration," Jiang said. "We had input from experts, associated with the Alzheimer's Association International Society to Advance Alzheimer's Research and Treatment (ISTAART), across six countries, including the U.S., Turkey, Ireland, Italy, Argentina and Chile."

Jiang and the collaborative team focused their work on understanding the "brain fog" that many COVID-19 survivors experience, even months after recovering from the virus. This fog includes memory problems, confusion and difficulty concentrating. According to Jiang, "The slowing and abnormality of intrinsic brain activity in COVID-19 patients resemble those seen in Alzheimer's and related dementias."

This research sheds light on the connection between the two conditions, suggesting that they may share underlying biological mechanisms. Both long COVID and Alzheimer's disease involve neuroinflammation, the activation of brain support cells known as astrocytes and abnormal brain activity. These factors can lead to significant cognitive impairments, making it difficult for patients to think clearly or remember information.

The idea that COVID-19 could lead to Alzheimer's-like brain changes is a significant development.

"People don't usually connect COVID-19 with Alzheimer's disease," Jiang said. "But our review of emerging evidence suggests otherwise."

The research reveals that the cognitive issues caused by COVID-19 reflect similar underlying brain changes as those in dementia. The study's insights emphasize the importance of regular brain function check-ups for these populations, particularly through the use of affordable and accessible tools like electroencephalography (EEG).

The study not only highlights the shared traits between long COVID and Alzheimer's, but also points to the importance of further research.

"The new insight opens avenues for future research and clinical practice, particularly in studying brain oscillations related to neural biomarkers of mild cognitive impairment in people with long COVID," said Jiang.

One of the key findings is the role of astrocytes—support cells in the brain that have not been as thoroughly studied as neurons. The research suggests that damage or activation of these cells by COVID-19 can cause synaptic dysfunctions, leading to the abnormal brain activity observed in both conditions. This discovery is significant because it may help explain why EEG patterns in COVID-19 patients resemble those seen in the early stages of neurodegenerative diseases like Alzheimer's.

Researchers believe this work could have a direct impact on patient care. They are advocating for routine EEG exams to detect early brain changes in both COVID-19 survivors and those at risk for cognitive decline.

"EEG patterns in COVID-19 patients resemble those seen in early neurodegenerative diseases," said Norris.

"These similarities may be due to shared issues such as brain inflammation, astrocyte activity, low oxygen levels and blood vessel damage," said Sompol.

By detecting these changes early, health care providers could potentially identify at-risk individuals sooner and implement interventions to prevent or slow the progression of cognitive decline.

As research continues, the team is particularly interested in how EEG monitoring can predict long-term outcomes in COVID-19 patients and assess the effectiveness of treatments aimed at preventing cognitive decline.

More information: Yang Jiang et al, Parallel electrophysiological abnormalities due to COVID‐19 infection and to Alzheimer's disease and related dementia, Alzheimer's & Dementia (2024). DOI: 10.1002/alz.14089

alz-journals.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/alz.14089

[reverieshifts]

𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

𝒔𝒄𝒊-𝒇𝒊 𝒅𝒓

Estimated Frequency: ~1 in 1,000 Velari

Velari Term: "Sha’lurei" 

Offworlder Term: “resonance”

𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒔

Lumen Node Function: The foundation of resonance-based abilities lies in the lumen node, a specialized neural cluster located near the upper spine, unique to the velari species. In resonants, this node exhibits hyper-synchronous neural oscillation, allowing it to function as a localized psionic amplifier. It contains an unusually dense lattice of iridesium-aligned neurofilaments—a bio-reactive crystalline structure found only in velari tissue—which enhances long-range synaptic cohesion and sensory processing far beyond baseline parameters.

Cognitive Resonance Field (CRF): Rather than emitting force, resonants interface with the ambient energy of space-time through a passive psionic field—an extension of their consciousness that subtly syncs with biological, emotional, and electro-mechanical rhythms in their environment. This “Cognitive Resonance Field” allows them to perceive, interpret, and gently manipulate localized energy patterns without direct contact.

Empathetic Feedback Loop: Resonants process external stimuli through a layered empathic interface, enabling them to “feel” spatial tension, neural dissonance, and even emotional signatures. Many describe the sensation as “walking through thought” or “hearing the world breathe.” This heightened feedback loop enables rapid threat detection, environmental awareness, and non-verbal communication through emotional echo.

𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔

Psychokinetic Manipulation: Through fine-tuned modulation of their CRF, a Resonant can exert subtle kinetic influence on physical objects. Rather than brute force, this manipulation stems from temporary energetic entanglement—an induced alignment between their own neural patterns and the vibratory signature of nearby matter. Movement appears fluid, almost instinctive; objects float, twist, or halt midair as if persuaded rather than forced. Precision scales with emotional clarity and environmental quietude, while range is limited by both psionic focus and spatial density.

Resonant Drift (Self-Levitation): By finely tuning their CRF to the kinetic frequencies of the immediate environment, a resonant can initiate a state of partial anti-kinetic equilibrium—a passive suspension that allows them to float or drift gracefully above the ground. Unlike propulsion-based flight, this “resonant drift” feels more like weightlessness anchored to emotional and spatial awareness. They tend to float instinctively when calm, contemplative, or emotionally overwhelmed. The effect becomes more stable in low-gravity environments or when they are barefoot and in full skin contact with their surroundings. Movement during drift is smooth, gliding, and eerily silent.

Neural Interface Override (“Soft Sync”): By attuning their CRF to simple electronic fields, a Resonant can override low-grade or analog electronic interfaces, such as doors, terminals, scanning systems, and older AI systems without neural shielding. This isn’t hacking—it's resonant subversion: they convince the system it’s already received proper authorization. The process is not instantaneous and requires direct proximity and focus. More complex or modern systems—especially encrypted or military-grade—typically resist this technique or trigger failsafes if improperly tuned.

Emotional Signature Mapping: Resonants perceive the emotional imprint of nearby sentients as complex tonal signatures within their field. These signatures fluctuate with mood, intent, and neural activity, enabling a trained Resonant to distinguish lies, detect concealed aggression, or sense psychological distress before it becomes visible. In groups, they can navigate emotional “weather,” identifying tensions, loyalties, or fractures long before they escalate.

Memory Resonance Touch: With direct skin contact and sufficient emotional synchronization, a Resonant can access echoes of memory embedded in living beings or objects with long-term energetic exposure. This is not a perfect playback, but a fragmented, emotional reconstruction—flashes of fear, joy, grief, or pain layered into the subject like a psychic fingerprint. They typically use this carefully, as overwhelming memories can bleed into their own consciousnesses, leaving them shaken or dazed.

Proximity-Based Thought Echo: While full telepathy is rare and unsustainable, Resonants are capable of passive thought-echo reception within close proximity. This typically manifests as fleeting impressions—unspoken words, images, or urges bleeding across the resonance field. Such impressions are strongest during heightened emotional states or direct physical contact. With deep bonds, this effect can intensify into partial shared cognition, allowing them to communicate without speech under stress.

Environmental Sensory Overlay: The CRF interfaces with a Resonant’s perception as an augmented sensory overlay, mapping environmental tension, motion, and energetic flow in real time. They can detect concealed movement, identify stress fractures in structures, track electromagnetic shifts, or feel malfunctioning machinery before failure occurs. In high-focus states, this field awareness extends through walls, into wiring, and along conduits—turning the space around them into a kind of living schematic.

Energetic Residue Tracing: Every living being and powered device leaves behind a faint resonant signature. A resonant can “listen” to these echoes in a given space to determine recent activity—detecting where someone stood, what systems were accessed, or what emotional state they were in. It works best on unaltered environments and within minutes or hours of the initial event. Older traces become distorted or overwritten. This ability makes them invaluable for post-incident analysis, tracking, or infiltration prep.

Neural Dampening Field (Perceptual Obfuscation): By dampening the outward frequency of their own resonance field, a Resonant can slip beneath the notice of most passive sensors and casual observation. This creates a soft perceptual blind spot, blurring details or delaying recognition in both sentient and synthetic awareness. It doesn't render them invisible—just forgettable. Useful for slipping past scanning systems or lingering unseen in plain sight, especially when paired with stillness and low emotional output. Stronger AI or high-alert targets may still detect them with effort. The effect is brief, typically measured in minutes.

Syncwalk (Micro-Teleportation Glimpses): In moments of deep focus or crisis, a resonant may “blink” across very short distances—instantaneous resonance displacement over a few meters. This is not true teleportation, but a momentary phase-skip, where their field synchronizes so tightly with space that it temporarily collapses and reforms their physical presence along a natural energy seam (such as a corridor, high-voltage conduit, or psionic turbulence vein). Side effects may include nausea, temporal dissonance, or mild electrical charge.

Psionic Disruption Pulse (“Breaker Note”): In moments of acute distress or self-defense, a Resonant can release a burst of destabilized resonance—an involuntary psionic shockwave that disrupts electronic systems, weakens mental shields, and disorients nearby sentients. This “Breaker Note” is not a weapon they control, but a side effect of violent resonance collapse. Systems flicker, glass fractures, and unshielded minds may experience vertigo, nausea, or blackout. Recovery varies by species and exposure.

Energetic Stabilization ("Resonance Sink"): In environments with fluctuating electromagnetic or psionic interference (e.g. hyperspace tunnels, collapsed sectors, psychic storms), a Resonant can act as a stabilizing presence. Their CRF naturally harmonizes nearby fields, creating a calm “bubble” that resists disruptive effects. This function is subconscious and limited in radius, but invaluable for helping allies stay grounded in unstable conditions. In prolonged crises, they often become the centerpoint others unconsciously gravitate toward—emotionally and physically.

Resonance Bonding (Selective): Through sustained exposure and mutual trust, a Resonant can form a biopsionic link with a specific individual. This bond allows for continuous emotional tracking, rapid non-verbal communication, and increased stability of both parties' CRFs when in close proximity. Such bonds are rare, often instinctive, and potentially permanent. Once formed, it is a two-way tether—one that transcends normal distance thresholds and occasionally manifests as shared dreams, dual-state reflexes, or unintentional synchronization.

𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒌𝒔

Energetic Depletion: While the CRF operates passively at low levels, active resonance manipulation consumes considerable neural and metabolic energy. Prolonged or intensive use—especially heavy psychokinesis, neural dampening field projection, syncwalking, or the release of a breaker note—can lead to symptoms of acute neural exhaustion, including dizziness, tremors, blurred vision, tinnitus, and spatial disorientation. In advanced stages, overextension may trigger nosebleeds, loss of motor coordination, unconsciousness, or psionic seizures caused by synaptic misfiring within the lumen node.

Emotional Instability: A Resonant’s power is intertwined with their emotional state. Intense emotions—fear, rage, grief—can amplify resonance uncontrollably. While this may grant temporary surges in power, it often results in field bleed, where the CRF spikes erratically, disrupting electronics, disorienting allies, or unintentionally projecting thoughts and memories outward. Emotional overload may also trigger the breaker note reflexively, endangering nearby personnel. Thus, Resonants are trained to regulate their emotional output carefully.

Cognitive Noise Threshold: Environments with high energetic interference—such as densely populated city centers, military command decks, or battlefields—can overload a Resonant’s sensory field. The constant barrage of emotional signatures, EM fields, and kinetic motion can produce a sensory “hum” that drowns out their fine-tuned perception. In these conditions, abilities may become muted, erratic, or outright disabled unless they can find stillness or an anchor point (such as a bonded individual).

Field Range Limitations: The Cognitive Resonance Field is localized, typically extending only a few meters from the user’s body. Precision psychokinetics and soft-sync interfacing require proximity within arm’s reach or line-of-sight. Emotional and sensory mapping is strongest within a 10–15 meter radius, and drops off sharply beyond that. A resonant cannot affect or perceive distant targets unless a direct bond has been formed—and even then, range is variable and unreliable.

Bond Vulnerability: Resonance bonds, while powerful, are also liabilities. Through them, a Resonant can experience echoes of pain, fear, or emotional collapse from a linked partner—and they from them. In moments of physical trauma or mental instability, the bond may destabilize both parties simultaneously, amplifying stress responses or creating shared disorientation. Severing a bond—voluntarily or by death—can trigger a complete CRF collapse, with unknown long-term neurological impact.

𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂

Ok, so there's a lot of information shoved into here, so sorry about that, but I love making myself overpowered, so yeah. Like with my description of the velari species, I tried to make this sound a little more scientific to fit with the whole sci-fi theme, so again, it may read like a bit of a report. But anyways, all this basically comes down to the fact that resonant velari are able to sync up with the world around them, and sort of convince reality to act as they please. Because resonance isn't control or manipulation, it's a discussion with the universe itself.

@aprilshiftz @lalalian

[shamandrummer]

The Science Behind Shamanic Drumming

Shamanic drumming has been used for thousands of years by indigenous cultures across the globe as a tool for healing, spiritual journeying, and altered states of consciousness. While the practice is deeply rooted in ancient traditions and sacred symbolism, modern neuroscience and psychology are beginning to shed light on the mechanisms that make shamanic drumming so effective. This blog post explores the fascinating intersection between ancient wisdom and scientific inquiry, uncovering the science behind shamanic drumming and its profound impact on the human brain and body.

What Is Shamanic Drumming?

Shamanic drumming typically involves repetitive, rhythmic percussion played at a steady pace, usually between 4 to 7 beats per second. This rhythm mimics the brain's theta wave frequency, associated with deep meditation, trance states, and dream-like consciousness. Shamans use this rhythmic sound to induce altered states, facilitating communication with the spirit world, accessing inner wisdom, and performing soul retrievals or healing work.

Unlike musical drumming intended for entertainment or performance, shamanic drumming is functional. Its purpose is to shift consciousness, harmonize body and mind, and align the individual with natural or spiritual energies.

Brainwave Entrainment

One of the most compelling scientific explanations for the effects of shamanic drumming lies in a phenomenon known as brainwave entrainment. Our brain operates on electrical impulses that produce patterns called brainwaves, which can be measured in hertz (Hz). These brainwaves correspond to various states of consciousness:

Beta waves (13–30 Hz) – alertness and active thinking

Alpha waves (8–12 Hz) – relaxed, calm awareness

Theta waves (4–7 Hz) – meditative, trance, and dream states

Delta waves (0.5–3 Hz) – deep sleep and unconsciousness

Shamanic drumming, typically played at 4 to 7 beats per second, naturally entrains the brain to synchronize with the theta frequency. Theta states are linked with intuition, deep insight, emotional release, and non-ordinary reality--the very terrain shamans navigate during their work.

This entrainment occurs through a process called auditory driving, where rhythmic auditory stimuli influence neural oscillations. Over time, the brain shifts from faster beta activity to slower theta rhythms, facilitating a trance-like state of consciousness.

The Default Mode Network and Ego Dissolution

Recent neuroscience research has focused on a set of interconnected brain regions known as the Default Mode Network (DMN). This network is active during self-referential thought, daydreaming, and our internal narrative--essentially, the seat of the ego. In altered states like deep meditation, psychedelics, and shamanic trance, the DMN becomes less active, allowing for a temporary dissolution of the ego and a greater sense of unity or connectedness.

Studies suggest that rhythmic drumming can modulate activity in the DMN, leading to this sense of ego dissolution. This helps explain why individuals often report feelings of oneness with the universe, encounters with spirit guides, or a profound shift in perspective during shamanic drumming journeys.

The Role of Binaural Beats and Hemispheric Synchronization

Another scientific explanation relates to binaural beats, a phenomenon where two slightly different frequencies are played in each ear, creating a perceived third tone inside the brain. This auditory illusion can also entrain brainwaves, particularly theta and alpha waves. While traditional shamanic drumming isn't binaural in the strictest sense, it can produce a similar synchronizing effect, especially when the drumming is combined with vocal toning, rattles, or other rhythmic instruments.

Moreover, shamanic drumming may encourage hemispheric synchronization, where both the left and right hemispheres of the brain begin to operate in harmony. This balanced brain state is associated with enhanced creativity, intuition, and integrative thinking--traits that are essential for accessing deep inner wisdom and healing.

Endorphins, Dopamine, and the Healing Response

In addition to brainwave effects, drumming stimulates the release of feel-good neurochemicals. Research shows that rhythmic drumming can increase levels of endorphins and dopamine, which reduce pain and elevate mood. This biochemical response may explain the sense of euphoria or catharsis many people experience after a drumming session.

Drumming also activates the autonomic nervous system, particularly the parasympathetic branch, which governs relaxation and restoration. When participants engage in group drumming or journeying sessions, heart rates and breathing often slow, blood pressure drops, and stress hormones decrease--creating ideal conditions for physical and emotional healing.

Immune Function and Cellular Health

Beyond psychological benefits, studies have shown that drumming may positively influence the immune system. A landmark study by Barry Bittman, M.D., found that group drumming increased the activity of natural killer (NK) cells, a vital component of the body's immune defense. Participants who engaged in regular rhythmic drumming showed elevated levels of cytokines and other markers of immune function.

While more research is needed, these findings suggest that the repetitive and immersive nature of drumming may help reduce inflammation, improve immunity, and even support the body's natural healing mechanisms.

Bridging Science and Spirit

It's important to note that while science can explain many of the physiological and neurological effects of shamanic drumming, it cannot fully capture the subjective, spiritual dimensions of the experience. Shamans don't merely use drumming to influence brainwaves--they enter relationships with spirits, ancestors, and elemental forces through these rhythms.

For many, the drum is not just an instrument, but a living ally--a "horse" that carries the spirit of the practitioner into other worlds. These cultural and metaphysical frameworks, though difficult to measure empirically, are no less real or valid for those who experience them.

Final Thoughts

The science behind shamanic drumming reveals a compelling bridge between ancient wisdom and modern understanding. Through brainwave entrainment, modulation of the default mode network, neurochemical release, and immune system enhancement, drumming offers a powerful, evidence-based method for healing and transformation.

Yet its deepest value may lie in its mystery--in the way it invites us beyond the rational mind into realms of intuition, archetype, and spirit. Whether approached as a sacred rite or a neurological tool, shamanic drumming continues to be a profound and effective path for inner exploration, healing, and awakening.

[compneuropapers]

Interesting Papers for Week 21, 2025

Gustatory cortex neurons perform reliability-dependent integration of multisensory flavor inputs. Allar, I. B., Hua, A., Rowland, B. A., & Maier, J. X. (2025). Current Biology, 35(3), 600-611.e3.

Complex harmonics reveal low-dimensional manifolds of critical brain dynamics. Deco, G., Sanz Perl, Y., & Kringelbach, M. L. (2025). Physical Review E, 111(1), 014410.

Context-dependent decision-making in the primate hippocampal–prefrontal circuit. Elston, T. W., & Wallis, J. D. (2025). Nature Neuroscience, 28(2), 374–382.

Applied Motor Noise Affects Specific Learning Mechanisms during Short-Term Adaptation to Novel Movement Dynamics. Foray, K., Zhou, W., Fitzgerald, J., Gianferrara, P. G., & Joiner, W. M. (2025). eNeuro, 12(1), ENEURO.0100-24.2024.

Touch-evoked traveling waves establish a translaminar spacetime code. Gonzales, D. L., Khan, H. F., Keri, H. V. S., Yadav, S., Steward, C., Muller, L. E., Pluta, S. R., & Jayant, K. (2025). Science Advances, 11(5).

A distinct hypothalamus–habenula circuit governs risk preference. Groos, D., Reuss, A. M., Rupprecht, P., Stachniak, T., Lewis, C., Han, S., Roggenbach, A., Sturman, O., Sych, Y., Wieckhorst, M., Bohacek, J., Karayannis, T., Aguzzi, A., & Helmchen, F. (2025). Nature Neuroscience, 28(2), 361–373.

Sensorimotor environment but not task rule reconfigures population dynamics in rhesus monkey posterior parietal cortex. Guo, H., Kuang, S., & Gail, A. (2025). Nature Communications, 16, 1116.

Dendritic growth and synaptic organization from activity-independent cues and local activity-dependent plasticity. Kirchner, J. H., Euler, L., Fritz, I., Ferreira Castro, A., & Gjorgjieva, J. (2025). eLife, 12, 87527.3.

Prediction of future input explains lateral connectivity in primary visual cortex. Klavinskis-Whiting, S., Fristed, E., Singer, Y., Iacaruso, M. F., King, A. J., & Harper, N. S. (2025). Current Biology, 35(3), 530-541.e5.

Reconstructing a new hippocampal engram for systems reconsolidation and remote memory updating. Lei, B., Kang, B., Hao, Y., Yang, H., Zhong, Z., Zhai, Z., & Zhong, Y. (2025). Neuron, 113(3), 471-485.e6.

Sensorimotor adaptation reveals systematic biases in 3D perception. Lim, C., Vishwanath, D., & Domini, F. (2025). Scientific Reports, 15, 3847.

Enhanced accuracy in first-spike coding using current-based adaptive LIF neuron. Liu, S., & Dragotti, P. L. (2025). Neural Networks, 184, 107043.

Overwriting an instinct: Visual cortex instructs learning to suppress fear responses. Mederos, S., Blakely, P., Vissers, N., Clopath, C., & Hofer, S. B. (2025). Science, 387(6734), 682–688.

Neural mechanisms of relational learning and fast knowledge reassembly in plastic neural networks. Miconi, T., & Kay, K. (2025). Nature Neuroscience, 28(2), 406–414.

Dynamical constraints on neural population activity. Oby, E. R., Degenhart, A. D., Grigsby, E. M., Motiwala, A., McClain, N. T., Marino, P. J., Yu, B. M., & Batista, A. P. (2025). Nature Neuroscience, 28(2), 383–393.

Dendritic excitations govern back-propagation via a spike-rate accelerometer. Park, P., Wong-Campos, J. D., Itkis, D. G., Lee, B. H., Qi, Y., Davis, H. C., Antin, B., Pasarkar, A., Grimm, J. B., Plutkis, S. E., Holland, K. L., Paninski, L., Lavis, L. D., & Cohen, A. E. (2025). Nature Communications, 16, 1333.

The developmental emergence of reliable cortical representations. Trägenap, S., Whitney, D. E., Fitzpatrick, D., & Kaschube, M. (2025). Nature Neuroscience, 28(2), 394–405.

Opposite asymmetry in visual perception of humans and macaques. Tünçok, E., Kiorpes, L., & Carrasco, M. (2025). Current Biology, 35(3), 681-687.e4.

Attention modulates subjective time perception across eye movements. Yan, C., Wang, H., Jiang, X., & Wang, Z. (2025). Vision Research, 227, 108540.

Dissociating the roles of alpha oscillation sub-bands in visual working memory. Zhao, N., & Liu, Q. (2025). NeuroImage, 307, 121028.

[cowboysandcannolis]

Ties that Bond-Chapter I

An afternoon that was meant to be spent on a blind date turns into a tryst, and perhaps more, with fellow sorcerer Kento Nanami…

“Trust me, Y/N. He’s a hell of a catch and he needs someone. Handsome, courteous, he’s exactly your type.”

Your pen twirled easily between your fingers as you sat beneath the shade of the awning at your local cafe, the summer sun searing the sidewalk a mere few feet away. Your other hand had a death grip on the cup filled with your iced latte, which threatened to slosh over the edge of the glass with each of your anxious movements.

Humming nervously, tapping your shoe upon the shaded concrete “I’m not so sure, Kara. You know my life is—complicated.” You winced as the words fell from your lips ineloquently. Your life was an injustice to the meaning of the word complicated.

“You always say that and yet I don’t know what’s so complicated about selling makeup, hell you travel for a living, what’s so difficult about that?”

Shit. That’s the latest in a long string of lies that you told your friend.

Kara had been a wonderful friend to you until the end of middle school. When you had disappeared entirely from your previous school without a trace, enrolled in another school, started a new life. It wasn’t until approximately five years later that you stood on a street corner when she grabbed you by the wrist and insisted you explain to her where you had just up and disappeared to. And she never let go.

Kara was one of the most stubborn people you knew, but that’s why she was one of your only friends that you spoke to regularly that didn’t share your lifestyle. She insisted on being apart of your life, no matter how much it irked you some days. You could easily put a stop to this, make her forget that you ever crossed paths and yet, you never did.

“Kara-“

“Listen, you don’t need to explain it to me, okay? Just give this a chance. Since I’ve gone to the trouble of arranging it. I swear I’ve arranged a date for the most stubborn person on earth. If I didn’t care for you I would have saved myself the trouble.”

“Right-you’re right…thank you.”

Just as she began to prattle on about the suitor that she had arranged for you your ears perked up, drawn to something unseen. Down the street, through the alley.

“Kara, I have to-“

“Oh, is he there? Okay. Have fun, be good! Tell me everything later!”

The phone fell silent as you rose from your seat, chair scraping the concrete behind you. You closed your eyes to concentrate. The din of minds, all in different states, some were upset, some were angry, some were thrilled, it was a never ending sea in all directions, hitting you like a tidal wave. Concentration dwindled that sea to a lake, a pool, a stream…a trickle until you found the solitary source that you were seeking.

A curse. One that moved with its own thoughts, its own constitution.

You moved like a sleepwalker, in a trance like state, fixated on your target. Eyes closed to hide the milky, emerald haze that overcame them with the activation of your technique, eyes did nothing for you anyway. Just as you would be about to bump against one passerby on the street, your feet would redirect with a jolt, bouncing off the cloud of their neural oscillation just in the nick of time. Like a pinball you make your way towards your target.

…

When your eyes opened once more, the green film fading away as you took stock of your surroundings, viscous purple liquid painted every surface in a ten foot radius, including your once shiny and pristine patent leather shoes. For all the wonders of your technique you could never count on cleanliness, curse brains would splatter without discretion.

Even a few pinpricks of purple managed to fleck your skirt, you pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing.

“I didn’t think a soiled pair of Mary Jane’s was enough to get you down, Y/N.” A familiar voice called from further down the alley, followed by the tell tale click clack of expensive loafers on cobblestones.

“Easy for you to say while wearing freshly polished loafers, Nanami.” As annoyed as you were about the state of your clothes you couldn’t be all too annoyed when in the presence of your favorite fellow sorcerer.

You turned on your heel, a particulate of curse brain squelching beneath your shoe in an unsettling manner, nonetheless you found yourself brushing your hair away from your face and offering a soft smile.

Peering at you over his green tinted glasses, hazel eyes glimmered with amusement at the spectacle you caused, liquidating what was once a level two curse.

“I see you have everything well under control here.”

“Did you think otherwise?” You scoffed, feigning hurt.

“Never. I simply couldn’t pass up on the chance to greet the one and only tolerable co-worker that I have.”

“Likewise. Shall we?”

“Let’s.”

In practiced form he offered you an arm, clad in his fine tan suit, you wove your arm with his and let him lead you out of the alleyway. It was a rare treat the two of you were in the same place at once, usually it occurred whilst your two schools were at odds, with very little time to catch up.

“Were you sent here on assignment? I wasn’t made aware that the curse was in the area.”

“Not at all, I am supposed to be free for the day but, alas, duty calls. You would think the signature would be a drop in the ocean in such a crowded place but…” You signed heavily, leaning on your fellow sorcerer just a tad, feeling deflated “Here I am, shoes soaked in goo.”

Nanami chuckled “Well if you are free for the day then no need pouting over a pair of ruined shoes, not like you have anywhere to be.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Kara set me up to meet someone and now I am going to have to stand him up, poor thing. I was just going to be polite, but now there isn’t much I can do to explain to a non-sorcerer why I’m covered in purple goo.”

All at once the thick bicep that your hand laid upon tensed, a wave of intense emotions rolling off of him and crashing over you, a dizzying, intense feeling.

Lips suddenly hovered just above your ear startling you, still stricken by the sudden change.

“You say hell to all that and spend that afternoon with me and I’ll buy you a hundred pairs of shoes.”

The intensity of his voice and warm breath tickling your ear caused a shiver to run up your spine, your body betraying your mind before he even finished his proposition.

This would be far from the first tryst with Nanami Kento. Countless times over the years your paths would cross and you’d wind up falling into his bed, chanting his name like a ritual. It was animalistic, it was powerful and it made your mutual cursed energy spike off the charts.

The best part about Nanami that was after the deed was done, a time or two, he’d make you lunch, or dinner or whatever meal was appropriate at that time of day. He’d worship you, wait on you hand and foot if you’d let him and if you decided to stay for a day, a week, or forever. He’d let you. The wonderful, charming bastard.

The problem with infatuation was that it was addictive. Every time you’d stay longer, finding it increasingly difficult to leave each time. Domestic bliss was never an option for someone in your profession, much less two people in your profession. Someone would die, someone would leave. And yet, your mind was betrayed by your naive heart. You were as madly in love with this man as you were with the blonde boy at the rival school all those years ago.

“Kento…” You whispered, sounding so helpless as your skin grew oh so warm. The tone of your voice was enough permission for the blonde man to kiss your ear, and then your neck.

•

Green clouded over your vision as you gasped wildly to fill your lungs with enough oxygen to fuel the blazing fire within you. Your hands were bound over your head by Nanami’s spotted tie, wound expertly round one of the bed posts.

“Oh, Ken, oh Ken—!!” You cried out as the blond man’s head bobbed rhythmically between your thighs.

You let out a shuttering cry of pleasure, tears rolling down your face, as you neared your peak the electricity between you two surged, your feelings of all time pleasure forcing themselves onto him as well, causing him to whimper against your clit.

Your breasts heaved and skin cooled, letting your head roll back against the pillows as you stared lazily at the bonds above your head through an emerald haze. You felt incredible, unstoppable perhaps. Let any curse try its luck in this moment and see what happens.

A moment later large hands began to untie your bindings, you let your hands fall limp once they were free, closing your eyes and blindly nuzzling against his warm body.

“Let me draw you a bath, goddess.” Nanami whispered, pressing a kiss against your mused hair as he moved to do so.

“No, please. Just give me a moment to enjoy this…” He stilled, allowing you to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, just enjoying his scent, lulling you off to sleep.

You woke some time later to the smell of food cooking, a quick swipe of a hand over the sheets was enough to confirm that Nanami was gone and had been for some time. And yet, the blankets were tucked around you with such thought and care, your lips to quirked into a fond smile. Throwing on only your dress, with no additional undergarment, you padded out of the bedroom.

The blonde man was just pulling a meat thermometer from the oven, turning to wash it off in the sink as he caught your visage, a tiny smirk appearing on his lips.

“You’re awake. I was going to wake you in a few minutes when the cordon bleu was finished.” Nanami busied himself pouring a glass of wine, a favorite Cabernet of yours, you noticed by the label. He either had it on hand with you in mind or made a trip out to get it while you were asleep. Incredibly thoughtful, either way.

He placed the delicate glass of ruby liquid between your fingers, meeting your smoldering gaze with his hazel eyes, studying your expression. Honey brown most of the way around with green streaks throughout both eyes. A little detail that you always kept catalogued in your mind.

The hint was taken and he met your lips in a slow, open mouthed kiss, your hand that was not preoccupied with the glass slinging around his neck.

As his kitchen timer chimed from beside the oven Nanami pulled away, breathlessly, running a hand through his blonde locks. You had riled him up in a way that he wasn’t anticipating. “Y/N, the food is going to burn if you keep this up.”

Grasping the blonde’s sharp chin, forcing him to look down at you, a rare wide eyed, startled expression on his face.

“Let. It.” You commanded, kissing his lips once more, leaving a sharp, lingering bite of his bottom lip before pulling away.

The uncertainty in his face was gone in a millisecond, replaced with a predatory look. You loved it.

Strong arms encircled each of your thighs, lifting you up onto the cold marble counter. You were quick to carelessly discard your wine glass, sliding it across the surface so you could meet his fervent kisses with even more enthusiasm, grasping his face, pulling at his hair, tearing at his shirt.

“Ohhh, you are so bad.” Nanami hissed as you undoubtedly left deep, perhaps even bleeding, scratches with your fingernails on his back through his undershirt.

Nanami was quick to discard his trousers, as quick as he could be with you grabbing and kissing all over him like a bitch in heat.

Once freed from his trousers his cock bobbed intently, head a deep pink and marked with a bead of precum. You make a show of licking your lips like the cock-hungry vixen you were in that moment.

“Ohh no, I don’t trust you not to eat me alive right now with that look you’re giving me. Ass on the edge of the counter. Now.” The commanding tone caused you to smile, sliding right to the edge of the counter, pliant as he slid between your thighs, your knees on either side of his hips. You were quick to turn on him and lock your legs together behind his back, forcing the angle of entry that he was lining up to be sharper, undoubtedly deeper.

Nanami huffed in frustration but let your form of punishment be selfevident, pressing himself inside of you harshly with little warning. You hissed, wincing as he pushed relentlessly inside of you.

“That wouldn’t have happened if you let me do things my way.” He scolded, though he smirked and his tone softened, starting a slower, softer rhythm. “If you just do things my way, pet, I’ll treat you nice. You know I love to treat you nice.”

And you did like when Nanami was soft and worshipped you. However, on this night you were just too full of mischievous energy and just too dead set on challenging him. It had been awhile, you craved the blonde sorcerer putting you in your place.

You let Kento continue his ‘nice’ pace, head and torso lying back upon the cold countertop as he thrusted into you, he was clearly very content.

“See, pet?” The blonde soothed in a soft tone “When you don’t fight me things are so much-“ His hand traveled to caress your cheek and you took your opportunity to be naughty, biting at his thick index finger. Never enough to harm him but enough to give him a shock.

In a second his hand was encircling your throat, squeezing hard enough to cause bloodflow to slow and your mind to become hazy in the most lovely way. And the way he stared down at you so intently caused you to gush, you were sure he felt it.

“What did I just say?!” He boomed, putting more pressure on your throat and you fought back a grin.

“That’s it. If you can’t be good then I’ll treat you as such.”

At that he exited you, pulling hard on your hair, forcing you to arch your back uncomfortably, knees scraping the counter top as he forced you down onto the counter, stomach and breasts pressing against the cool material. He kept his menacing grip on your hair as he suddenly shoved himself inside you, moving at a punishing pace. You moaned, cheek squished against the counter as he used you punishingly.

As soon as he finished inside of you the harsh grip on your hair was released as he sighed breathlessly, pressing a kiss against the small of your back and rubbing a soothing circle with his big, warm palm.

“I’m sorry. But you ask for it.” His menacing tone long gone, play was over. You smiled, raising yourself up to look back at him. “Indeed I did.”

Just as Nanami began to clean up the utter mess you had made of the kitchen there came a heavy, frantic knocking at the front door of his apartment. Your eyes met his hazel ones, sharing a worried look before you hopped off the counter and fled into his bedroom.

“Break it up, break it up! Animals. You two are animals!”

The ohhh so familiar voice of Satoru Gojo echoed through Nanami’s apartment, causing you to groan from your place in the bedroom, rummaging through Nanami’s dresser to find something suitable to wear. You ended up with a white T shirt that was long enough to be sensible dress, though being careful to cover your breasts with crossed arms.

“Getting it on like National Geographic in here!”

Padding out of the bedroom in your makeshift nightgown, arms crossed in front of your chest, showing your dissatisfaction clearly. The white haired sorcerer was turned away from you, gesturing wildly at the spilled glass of red wine on the counter and the smoke rising from the oven that Nanami was frantically attending to. This may have been funny if you weren’t so angry at the interruption.

As your soft footfalls echoed on the floors Gojo whirled around, pointing an accusatory finger at you. Though by the quirk of his lip this was all fun and games for him.

“You! What do you think you’re doing to poor Nanami, killing him?!”

Letting out a heavy, irritated sigh you rubbed your tired eyes “Gojo, what are you doing here and why is what we’re doing of any consequence to you?”

“He’s being a pervert!” Nanami snapped from behind the oven, placing the baking sheet with its well done meal on top of the oven. A blue oven mitt incased his hand, which was rather adorable, you decided.

“No!!” Gojo shot back, making a dramatic show of crossing his long arms over his chest, pouting “I am highly offended that you would say such a thing!”

“Fine, then tell me you didn’t just hear and or see everything that just happened!”

“Here I am just trying to visit my old buddy Nanami and-“

“Ughh, Gojo!” You cried in irritation, eyes flashed a deep, pupil-less green as your irritation grew, the bickering men became silent abruptly, the air growing thick. Being a level one sorcerer you probably couldn’t succeed in popping Satoru Gojo’s head, not without a solid connection to each of his temples and his infinity off, but man, would he hate for you to attempt to do so.

“Okay, no need to go there. Got it. Put your angry eyes away, Y/N.” Gojo added hastily, pale palms raised high in surrender.

“I’m here to brief Nanami on a mission but hey, I’m no cockblocker-“

“-you literally were just being a cockblocker-“

“-So! I will graciously take this mission off of your hands because you are enjoying the company of a lady friend this weekend and I am not. Since that’s never happened in the history of the world before. Can I get a rousing round of ‘Thank you, Gojo!’?”

The white haired man threw out a hand towards his audience, your eyes slid over to Nanami, his to yours, sharing a look, absolutely unimpressed.

In the silence you even threw out a soft, fake cough that echoed off the walls of the apartment, Nanami’s lips twitched, fighting a laugh. Gojo’s shit eating smile came crashing down, a sight that warmed your heart.

“You’re both so mean. Honestly, you’re perfect for each other. Fine. Make the mission your little date. Don’t say I never tried to do anything for you!”

Gojo threw the manilla folder that contained the notes for the assignment onto the coffee table as he headed for the door.

“One more thing! Don’t forget to wrap it up. I tell my students that safe sex is very-“

With each word out of his mouth your eyes glowed a more intense shade of green and Gojo would swear he felt the slightest stirrings of a headache coming on, even with his Infinity.

“Yeah, okay, bye!” The door slammed shut behind him and you shook your head.

“He’s such an idiot. I don’t know how you survived attending the same high school.”

Scooping up the folder you flipped through the pages, sitting on the sofa to take it in. Nanami joined you a few moments later with a fresh glass of wine and a plate of only slightly singed food, setting both on the coffee table in front of you.

“What are we dealing with here?”

“Abandoned ritualistic site, estimated to be multiple grade one and two curses….Close to a popular footpath for tourists….On Okinawa. They’ve allotted five days on the island to eliminate the curses….”

“So what you’re implying is…we wipe out the site in one day and spend the remainder of the week on a paid vacation?….” Nanami proposed as you crawled into his lap, tossing the folded back onto the coffee table, a devious smile on your face.

“I love how you think.”

—————————————————————————-

Surprise, the next chapter is a (paid) vacation trip. What else would suit our sweet Nanami?

[canmom]

I just read A Summoning! I really liked it. I’ve been told authors enjoy long-form comments, so if that’s true for you then here’s a reflection that got quite personal:

The use of second-person made me feel like I was looking in a mirror and the mirror was speaking into existence what it saw in me. I don’t think I’ve ever read something like that from a trans fem perspective. My social context (skewing heavily trans masc) is very invested in this sort of “listening and learning” approach, conspicuously uplifting and deferring to the sociopolitical opinions of trans fems because how could we possibly presume to understand their experience? Reading this knocked some sense into me about how alienating that must be from the other end. I don’t happen to be a trans girl, but why would that mean their experiences aren’t relatable to me? It seems absurd and unhelpful and dehumanizing and dangerous and just mean to reject that fact. Maybe this is just a painting of my own shortcomings, but I’m so glad that your story gave me an opportunity to connect better.

Some parts I found compelling and relatable:

- The self-shrinking, both physically and by the narrowing of memory. Painful but relatively brief experiences consume and overpower the narrative of self.

- Unwanted and painful bodily changes, and contending with the potential of taking agency to make further changes that are painful but (more or less) wanted.

- Plurality of the body, especially related to pain or division (dismemberment). This one hit me once for being bigender, and the a second time for chronic pain and old injuries.

I also greatly appreciated the intention and good research you put into describing the clothing. Historical costuming is a big interest of mine, and it always warms my heart when artists share that priority with me.

Also the esoterica cum gore (Latin pun intended) was delicious.

Thank you so much! This is exactly the sort of thoughtful comment I really appreciate getting <3

I think that 'how could we possibly understand' is a trap (hehehe... sorry). It's something that tended to get pushed very hard in the 2010s, this sort of standpoint epistemology thing, taken from a matter of courtesy (along the lines of don't talk down to people) to this kind of presumption of the intrinsic unknowability. Which is self-defeating! You've gotta believe communication is actually possible!

I plan to go into this more at some point but one thing I really perceived when I was on LSD a few weeks ago was a separation of the different faculties or parts of my mind; how much even different parts of the brain have their own spaces of concepts, like a sense of conceptual, image-like thinking that was being interpreted by the linguistic part of my brain; how all these elements work in concert to make 'me' happen. this was in part inspired by learning more about how artificial neural nets such as LLMs work, which encode concepts as vectors in high-dimensional spaces.

anyway the point being, communication within the brain and communication between brains, it's the same problem. we are attempting to map information that has meaning in one space to a corresponding meaning in another. and the way we do that is language. when I say 'red', it excites the various associations that my net of neurons has with certain sensory perceptions, a signal from my cone cells and so on. those are unique to my brain, unique even to different parts of my brain. but, by associating that word with a common experience, it's possible to excite the corresponding, analogous (or as I became convinced was a word when I was tripping, analogistical) set of associations in your brain. I think of it with a physics metaphor: thoughts are a lot like oscillations, normal modes and so on.

so we may not have had the exact same experience, the pattern of thoughts that get excited in your brain when I say 'red' are in no way identical to the ones in mine. but we are able to use the word as an anchor point, to excite oscillations in our respective brains that allow a back-and-forth to happen. if you talk about redness, I can imagine what you might be seeing by invoking my experience of redness, and vice versa.

so, for example, I haven't personally experienced what it is like to, say, live under anti-black racism, any more than you have experienced what it's like to be a trans woman. in fact, I haven't experienced a good many of the infinite contradictory things that one would consider to be part of The Canonical Transfem Experience(TM) either. but, if you're willing to listen, it's possible I can bring up analogous experiences and say, this is what my life's been like, and what other people told me they experienced, and these are some theories I find relevant, and perhaps excite some memory in you of what your life's been like that you can use to imagine what I'm on about.

the skill of a really good artist is to find the words, images, symbols, expressions, sensory effects, etc. etc. that can get across some of that inner world, that particular set of experiences, and let you construct something analogous in your own head. it will never be exactly the same, it is a limited channel and how you interpret it will be specific to your particular set of thought-resonances, but that doesn't matter. it's close enough to be meaningful.

thomas nagel famously asked if it's possible to know what it's like to be a bat, equipped with a sense that we humans lack. well, we don't know exactly what it's like to be a bat, but we can try to imagine it based on what we know about bats and what we do know. we can construct experiments in human echolocation, or use or knowledge in the differences between sound and light to imagine what echolocation would 'look like'. and we can build up a more detailed sense of bats by closely observing them (another @baeddel post: the amateur ethology one), so we can get a sense of the different ways bats act in different contexts, the nuances of specific bats, etc. etc. unfortunately we can't tell the bats what we've come up with and have them confirm or deny it! we are very limited in our channels of communication with most animals.

humans, on the other hand, have this absolutely insane invention we call language. we don't know exactly what it's like to be another person, but we can tell each other through the shared protocol, and that's a feedback loop, which will tend to bring our internal resonances more into concordance with each other. so the more we talk, the more curiosity we engage in, the better we understand each other.

(maybe the hippies were onto something with all that vibrations talk.)

so, all in all, I'm glad that my story made my experiences more comprehensible to you! in fact that's maybe the highest compliment you can give me, so thanks very much :3

and just to confirm your thought there - idk what it's like in your scene, but personally, I never want deference. I want friends. I want someone to meet me halfway, and take me seriously, but that also means if I'm talking shit, I don't want anyone to be like, ah, this sounds like bullshit but it must be mysterious transfem deep knowledge, inaccessible if you don't belong to this specific canonical demographic. like lmao what is that. even if one person is more knowledgeable about a thing than another so the information goes mostly one-way - a good teacher pays attention to and listens to their students. it's never only one-way.

(social media fucking sucks why are we on it)

long tangent aside, thanks for reading my story <3 i am super grateful for every engaged and thoughtful comment that anyone ever gives, that is absolutely the best thing you can ever get when you make an art. I have thought this and that about whether this story was any good, but hearing this makes me glad i wrote it and glad I finally released it. I can't wait to send out some more more freaky shit from the inside of this brain.

[hannigramslesbianhusband]

Clocks and Metronomes in Hannibal

``Hannibal counted the beats of the metronome against those of the clock. They went in and out of phase``

?????? Clocks???! speaking of this, I found out something really cool. I was researching trying to find some kind of connection or UN-connection between clocks and metronomes and what they might mean here, and I found this very interesting journal, which references and builds off of some of Christiaan Huygens' discoveries and work.

Let's list out a couple of things:

Arguably, Hannibal's favorite book is Treatise of Light, by none other than Christiaan Huygens.

``Among Mr. Jakov’s books was a copy bound in leather of Christiaan Huyghens’ Treatise on Light, and Hannibal was fascinated with it, with following the movement of Huyghens’ mind, feeling him moving toward discovery. He associated the Treatise on Light with the glare of the snow and the rainbow distortions in the old windowpanes. The elegance of Huyghens’ thought was like the clean and simplified lines of winter, the structure under the leaves. A box opening with a click and inside, a principle that works every time. It was a dependable thrill, and he had been feeling it since he could read.``

I skimmed a bit of the book- and it does include an explanations of the calculations Hannibal used to determine the height of the towers in his castle- which he was doing before he read the book. Bro is a literal genius.

``Also in the year Hannibal was six, Count Lecter found his son determining the height of the castle towers by the length of their shadows, following instructions which he said came directly from Euclid himself. Count Lecter improved his tutors then—within six weeks arrived Mr. Jakov, a penniless scholar from Leipzig.``

The journal I previously mentioned is, in very simple terms, about how pendulums and clocks synchronize. We can very reliably assume Hannibal is a fan of Christiaan Huygens, it’s very possible he could later have read Horologium oscillatorium, where he discusses these discoveries. Unfortunately, I can not dig too deep into the original text because the only copy I could find is in Latin, and I really don’t want to translate all that. But I CAN use the information provided in the journal. It’s also reasonable to assume Hannibal would know a lot of the information presented in the journal, because although Christiaan Huygens’ books are from the 1600s, Hannibal is not, and discoveries have been made! Science has advanced! Yippee!

In the journal, It is stated that “Synchronization occurs in diverse physical, biological, and chemical systems. Examples include the synchronous flashing of fireflies, the chorusing of crickets, the rhythmic applause of concert audiences, the coordinated beating of cardiac pacemaker cells, the pathological neural synchrony associated with epileptic seizures, and the coherent voltage oscillations of superconducting Josephson junction arrays.”

It all sounds very artistic. It is beautiful and connected. Right up Hannibal's alley, for sure. But- whats that near the end?? “ the pathological neural synchrony associated with epileptic seizures”. Epileptic seizures. Let’s put that away for later. 

The synchronisation of pendulums (pendulum clocks, metronomes) placed on the same (wooden) surface even if started at antiphase will eventually become in phase with eachother BUT: synchonizing in phase causes the pendulums in the clocks to slow down, so they lose time (multiple seconds an hour) but- they way they synchronize is dependent on several things(mechanisms in the clock, length and thickness of the surface they're on,etc etc.) but basically- with a SMALL amount of damping (loss of energy in an oscillating system) the clocks with synchronize in phase, with a large amount of it they will be antiphase. clocks synchronizing in antiphase has been called sympathetic motion or the sympathy of clocks (not empathy). 

Synchronization in itself is a pretty artistic thing, beautiful and connected. It shows up everywhere- including something called neural synchrony. neural synchrony is basically when two people interact or communicate, their brain rythms/waves synchronize, couple, create matching patterns. You understand eachother. this is seen a lot more in romantic couples or people who are close together, child-parent relationships(especially as infants) and the such. Not usually seen in strangers. the brain to brain synchronization happens in the  temporal-parietal part of the brain. The way will makes himself think like killers- to the point sometimes he feels like he becomes them- is definitely neural synchrony. Why he can do that so easily with strangers, who may have never even met? Who knows; but at least we know all kills leave behind a part of the killer, a part of their psyche, and not always just a message.  Basically, Will's whole metronome thing is symbolic of him synchronizing mentally(and neurologically! Very cool) with the killers. This may have been way too much work for something that is a bit obvious, but it’s very interesting to unravel.

I’m not sure how I started with picking apart clocks and metronomes in relation to Hannibal (in the book), and ended up with a conclusion about Will (in the show), but I did! I can’t say much more on this for now as I haven’t finished the book, and Will has yet to show up. 

Now, that thing we put away for later.

Neural synchrony is also associated with epileptic seizures. Neuron firing tends to become synchronous/hypersynchronous in the middle of a seizure.

I wanted to go more into Will's encephalitis and seizures related to this- but those are only a thing in the TV show, so I cant connect it quite as well. I can share the things I did find out, though, so if anyone is interested to see that please let me know! But right now, I'm too researched out to put it all together, and that's mainly why I'm not including it here now. All in all- we all know Hannibal knows all that psychiatry stuff and is crazy smart and crazy insane, so here is a bit of the science of it and how it all loosely connects to the books. And, of course as someone who values beauty and art, he would become obsessed with Will upon seeing how effortlessly he can achieve that synchronicity with others- especially those who think similarly to him. Honorable mention to Eldon Stammets.

[acdc-elektra]

Heres a little speech about how sleep has many benefits.. please take the time to read, it took me ages !!

Sleep is a complex and multifaceted phenomenon that plays a vital role in maintaining the delicate balance of our physiological and psychological well-being. During this enigmatic state, our brains undergo a remarkable transformation, oscillating between distinct stages of non-rapid eye movement (NREM) and rapid eye movement (REM) sleep, each characterized by unique neural patterns and physiological responses. As we surrender to the allure of slumber, our bodies repair and rejuvenate themselves, consolidating memories, regulating emotions, and restoring the immune system, while our minds engage in a symbolic dance of subconscious processing, weaving together fragments of thoughts, emotions, and experiences into the intricate tapestry of our dreams. Ultimately, sleep is a mysterious and essential aspect of our existence, one that continues to inspire scientific inquiry, philosophical contemplation, and poetic reverie.

Wow… that’s quite the text, rather factual too.. thank you? I think? Even if I’m not sure what brought this up.

[mindblowingscience]

One of the unsettled questions in the field of neuroscience is what primarily drives these rhythmic signals. The researchers, whose findings appear in the journal Neuron, specifically focused on what are known as theta oscillations, which emerge in the brain’s hippocampus region during activities like exploration, navigation, and sleep. The hippocampus plays a crucial role in the brain’s ability to remember the past. Prior to this study, it was believed that the external environment played a more important role in driving theta oscillations, says Arne Ekstrom, professor of cognition and neural systems in the University of Arizona psychology department and senior author of the study. But Ekstrom and his collaborators found that memory generated in the brain is the main driver of theta activity. “Surprisingly, we found that theta oscillations in humans are more prevalent when someone is just remembering things, compared to experiencing events directly,” says lead study author Sarah Seger, a graduate student in the neuroscience department.

Continue Reading