♥ liked by @ardentEpulation
Some of you are rather fond of calling psionics "mental powers," which is just as informative as calling digestion a "stomach power." The thinkpan is an organ. It is a complicated one, mind you. But an organ nonetheless. Trolls possess the same broad neurological necessities one would expect of any sufficiently sophisticated animal: sensory processing, motor control, memory, endocrine regulation, autonomic function, and so forth. The unusual portion is a set of structures threaded through and immediately beneath the ordinary neural tissue which have no especially useful human analogue. For convenience, I will refer to this system as the psionic complex. It is composed of three major components. Some neurosurgeonerals of Alternia refer to them by the shorthand of the lattice, node, and resonator. I will elaborate on the specifics shortly, but understand that each of these structures has its own substructures. The first component mentioned, the cerebral lattice, is a dense web of conductive tissue distributed primarily around the frontal, parietal, and temporal regions of the thinkpan. It is similar enough to ordinary neural tissue under crude examination that those crude trolls examining it tend to miss it. Its cells are considerably richer in conductive metals and electroactive proteins than the surrounding matter, and they form repeating geometric bundles rather than conventional branching neural networks. These bundles carry and synchronize electrical impulses. A normal thinkpan contains billions of individual neural events occurring simultaneously. The cerebral lattice can force enormous numbers of those signals into phase with one another. Once sufficiently synchronized, the activity ceases behaving like mere thought and begins producing a coherent psionic field. This is one of the fundamental cornerstones of psionic biology and of psionic practice. A psion does not "think very hard" and move an object. Their thinkpan converts synchronized neural activity into an external physical effect. This keeps particularly determined idiots from developing their own telekinesis. The second structure is the psionic node. This is a small organ seated deep within the thinkpan, approximately where several major sensory and endocrine pathways converge. Its precise shape varies considerably between castes and, even more importantly, between individuals. If you were to open a troll with negligible psionic aptitude, you would scarcely find more than a knot of this specialized tissue. In a powerful psion, it can be enormous relative to the surrounding structures. It would be vascularized to maximize activity and connected to the cerebral lattice with bundles of conductive fibers. This node performs two functions. It regulates output, and it determines the category of output the thinkpan is capable of producing. This is where the popular notion of "different psychic powers" becomes rather strange. Telekinesis, communion, mind control, prophetic sensitivity, dream intrusion, and the various phenomena collectively referred to as chucklevoodoo are not entirely separate mechanisms. The primary difference between these abilities would be the node. A goldblood whose node is heavily integrated with motor planning and spatial processing may externalize those systems. The thinkpan ordinarily calculates force, direction, velocity, weight, distance, and position so that the body may reach out and move an object. The telekinetic merely eliminates the inconvenient requirement that the arms participate. The third and final component is the cranial resonator. This is where this little system goes from novel to unpleasant. The inner surface of the skull contains microscopic crystalline deposits interwoven with the meninges and vascular channels surrounding the thinkpan. In most trolls, these deposits are sparse. In gifted trolls, they form branching structures around the cerebral lattice. They are similar to biological antennae. The node generates, the lattice synchronizes, and the resonator couples the resulting activity to the world outside the nugbone. Without it, a powerful psionic thinkpan would accomplish little besides cooking itself. Which, incidentally, still happens often. Headaches, nosebleeds, eye hemorrhage, seizures, temporary blindness, sensory distortion, aphasia, and loss of consciousness are all perfectly reasonable consequences to expect when your resonator matrix is damaged. It is important to understand why different hemotypes have different relationships to psionic structures. Different hemotypes deposit different concentrations of metals, pigments, proteins, and trace compounds into nervous tissue during development. These compounding elements result in certain changes: conductivity, vascularization, and resonator and node densities and shapes. Most importantly, they alter where the psionic node establishes its strongest connections. This is why psychic abilities tend to cluster by caste rather than forming a collection of caste-exclusive abilities. Blood does not contain "telekinesis." Blood creates the developmental conditions under which a certain kind of psionic architecture is more likely to form. Rustblood psionics appear to suffer from unusually permissive sensory filtering. Aradia Megido did not require a specialized organ for hearing ghosts. Her thinkpan simply admitted information most trolls automatically discard. Bronzeblood communion externalizes the machinery used to interpret other creatures. At sufficient strength, it becomes influence. Goldbloods have the most developed raw psionic architecture, with enlarged nodes, dense resonators, and extremely conductive neural tissue. This grants tremendous output at the cost of instability. Telekinesis, involuntary discharge, migraines, and prophetic noise are different consequences of a nervous system coping with psionic information. Cerulean domination is far more specialized. These psionics interface directly with motor and executive pathways. The victim need not cease thinking. They only cease being the primary authority over the body. Purpleblood chucklevoodoos instead interfere with fear, sleep, memory, and perception. Why seize someone's limbs when you may alter what their thinkpan considers frightening, significant, familiar, or real? Success is not determined by raw power alone. Psionic abilities depend upon resonance between nervous systems. Some thinkpans synchronize readily; others resist. Blood influences both architecture and compatibility. These categories may also overlap. A troll may possess telekinesis and clairaudience, communion and emotional projection, or any number of hybrid expressions. The classifications are ours. The anatomy is less considerate of the taxonomical categories provided. All of this is metabolically expensive. Psionic use consumes enormous amounts of oxygen and glucose, producing exhaustion, overheating, migraines, tremors, hemorrhage, seizures, and, when pushed sufficiently far, catastrophic damage to the thinkpan. So there is no mystical reservoir of caste energy involved. For the inevitable "TL;DR" request. Blood shapes the thinkpan. The node determines what it can affect. The lattice produces coherence. The resonator carries the signal beyond the skull.
࣪⊹₊˚{ oh my gosh! whaaaat! the masquerades OVER already???? but how are going to solve the REEL mystery of the day: like, how did this picture of these two suspicious fishies get onto my palm husk? dont these medicullers have a JOB to get to???? }9u9{ }9u9{ }˚₊⊹ ࣪ ࣪⊹₊˚{ whaleeee! if youre ever looking four the good docterror + the nurse shark again, PLEASEEEE give @carbonatedCaravanserai + me a call! so we can be soooo TIDALLY CONFUSED aboat it too! like! who even is that!!!! }>7<{ }>7<{ #outglutmasquerade #hicacontent #medicullercore #workplaiceaffairs }˚₊⊹ ࣪
all of you b1tchbeasts and nooksuckers W1SH you had my ass on tap #th1rstpost1ng #suggest1ve ((art by sarcasmprod1gy!
Some Of You Are Too Worried About " Getting Laid " When You Should Be Worried About Developing A Personality, Send Chitt. #suggestive #nsfc #goodlight
⚇ I won't even use all my quirk for this one. Show this shit the respect it deserves lmfao. --- To Kiss The Sun, Chapter 12 -- Fear and Longing "WE HAVE TO RUN, KULLEO!" The stars had already begun to disappear overhead as spilled orange Faygo stained the sky in rich hues as the sun began to rise. I stared in awe at the break of day, like a cuspidated grimalkin stuck in the headlights of a scuttlebuggy I felt trapped to the spot, my body shaking. I'd never seen anything so beautiful before, so thoroughly romantic. "This is what you get to see every day...?" I whispered to Fallan, eyes managing to turn away from the sunrise just enough to see the glitter of her pallid skin in the glow of its rays. She looked beautiful, even beyond the life that had long drained from her eyes, my cemetery girl stood shining brilliant in the dawn. Her eyes fell on me in that moment and we both knew, that everything we'd been through, everything we'd endured had all been worth it for the flush that we now shared between one another. The persecution, the pusherache, the daytime we now ran from...it was all worth it just so that we could stare at one another in this glorious moment and know we were two halves of one whole, just as the Messiahs prophecized! Okay, Isidor interjecting here. I might have to take them up for a little bit of blasphemy here but hey, the prose is pretty damn good, right? Kulleo is one hell of a writer! Okay back to the story: The moment was broken by my own traitorous wince as the sun's rays began to sting the top of my horns. It was bearable on the strong keratin, but once it touched the softer chitin of my face... "I told you, we need to hurry!" Fallan insisted, grabbing me by the hand and using all of the strength left in her to drag me back towards the shelter of the blackout tree, who's leaves would keep us completely obscured until night fell once more. We ran, managing to make the top of the trunk just as daylight singed the slightly exposed skin on my ankles, though I dragged it up just in time to avoid the worst of it. My sigh of relief came for both of us, for despite Fallan's lack of cardiovascular function, I could see the comfort plain on her face now that we were safe in the treetops. Peering over the side of the tree branch we'd perched ourselves on, I could see the sunlight bleaching the bottom of the tree in stark white, while further up the trunk remained its tell-tale stygian color. "We're safe for now" I murmured, allowing myself a moment to relax as I lay myself down on the thick branch, allowing my eyes to close as exhaustion pulsed in waves over my skin. "Emphasis on the for now part. As soon as the sun comes down, they're going to come looking for you again." I heard Fallan shuffle on the branch next to me, before feeling the brush of their old, raggedy shirt against my arm. She had lay down next to me, the cold of her skin atypical for one who had once been a warmer blood than I. I still sometimes watched, fascinated, as old, coagulated teal oozed from an open wound. I often wondered, in those moments, whether or not she could still be used for paint. Did her blood regenerate? Would wounds heal? There was just so much we didn't know... "...How long can we keep doing this, Kulleo?" her hoarse, raspy voice was taught with emotion. "How much longer until the ragrippers finally catch up with us? Or...Or a threshie squad manages to make good on their threats? Or the mercenaeronauts try to collect my bounty? This was never going to work! We're not meant to..." She paused, and though tears no longer flowed from her dead eyes, I knew that her soul was crying. I think that's about enough of airing out my student's writing on here. Gotta save some for its SlayO3, right? lmaooo. Hopefully this teaches it to make sure its sending the *right* document in future. ⚇
Been re-watching some of the footage from the Guttercade last night. I cant help it; i keep laughing my ass off at how shitty so many of you are at bowling. But there's hope! You can come back in two wipes and try to beat your record :). ((credit to @deathlessDeadwood 4 the lovely art!)) #guttercade #selfie
>([saw t#is dude at t#e party i aint know w#o t#e #ell #e is but decided to make #im in wwe] #ttps://cdn.imgc#est.com/files/8c40deb018e1.png #ttps://cdn.imgc#est.com/files/41a8586628dc.png]
"But you didn't mean me, did you?" ... Oh, CERTAINLY not, dear heart.
Happy 8/8.
If luck be a lady then shes one ornery gal because what in the sam hill man. https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/d6a7414d7da2.jpg
Veeery funny, Oddy. Very funny. I'll take over the music posting from here. Just one last one 4 the road. LET'S HEAR IT 4 THE ALTERNIAN EMPIRE'S 4REIGN POLICY!!!!
tHIS IS, mY cHITTR HOT TAKE, mAYBE BUT, i THINK i WOULD FEEL WEIRD, bEING W1TH SOMEONE WHO, kEEPS POSTING ABOUT, "GIRL BULGE," (aND i AM NOT TAGGING THAT, oN PURPOSE), aLL THE TIME, i WOULD GET, aNXIOUS ABOUT IT, i THINK LIKE, wOULD THEY STILL LIKE ME, aND WANT TO BE WITH ME, iF MY HORMONES, aFFECTED 1T OR, iF i GOT BOTTOM SURGERY OR, eVEN IF i JUST, dON'T PUT OUT AND, g1VE THEM ACCESS TO IT? aND DO NOT, sTART TALKING TO ME, iN THE COMMENTS ABOUT, tROLL BIOLOGY BECAUSE, i KNOW, yOU KNOW, wHAT i MEAN, yOU KNOW? #NSFW #isHOULDnOTbEsURPRISED #tHATbEINGoBJECTIFIEDcOMES #wITHbE1NGawOMAN
>([w#en i see dat butt] #ttps://cdn.imgc#est.com/files/38b094f01eac.png]
Dont get me wrong im all for the cinematic jaunts of mister singer and his rowdy boy bunch and id *never* razz the artistic inclinations of those hollywood bigwigs but i do so wish theyd kept mystiques penchant for skulls! I mean its just a helluva pun to have such a leading lady decked to the nines in her fashions of SKULLduggery. Get it??
...oh!
Ok! Well its kind of like i was her first bestie so.
Meeting the fricken replacement i suppose.
I cant stay mad at a goof like that!
Hi. :/
#BFF #:( https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/ff7d1cc571de.gif
Precisely!!
Youre so wise tavvy aw. :)
Sometimes when a mountain is put into perspective it just becomes a mole hill! Who wouldda thunk.
<:|
Umm...
I toss my two cents in and suddenly the whole fricken fountain is clogged huh. I was under the impression that that scallywag was just the ol ar-bot in disguise but phooey me for trying to think with my noodle and not my doodle or whatever.
Whats the rub dude i thought we were taking up arms against the big bad!
On principle kind of!
Sorry for the juniorheads in the audience but some things simply must be said.
Oh janey. With your cooking i wouldnt be able to stop myself from boogieing!
Too long!
Oh unreal heiress get this junk joint jumping.
If you think one like isnt a lot just imagine another fella in the room sitting really close to you going gee whilikers that was a good one.
Im learning so many colors in the comments here dude its like blues clues in here.
Successful pancake flip. Yep! I bet youre green over there. Not everyone can do it the way ol jake does.
Everyones wetting their britches about a dude getting tootsweet on the timeline. Tighten your belts boys thats usually how it is for him! #vaguepost #NOTvaguepost #missingmyfishing
I dunno if your brofy meant all that much if some random ol ragamuffin is taking you to the wayside.
:/
Well this is just plum embarassing for me.
You know it my girl up top with the slop.
You know a dude likes to break out the good chow on a hellacious friday! https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/feb859506377.jpg
Push it push it!
The mutts in this case!
PARDON!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?
Everythings coming up english!
Gotta go! Me and the ol bffeferi are playing table pong! Instead of doing shots every time we win we take little sips of ice cream from the flower of a hibiscus. Toodles!
?
Coming where? :)
Reminding me of my new pal @cuttlefishCabbalist ! This dudes eating corn through a picket coral fence to boot too. Heh. Hes like if the two of us mixed and made something funky! https://i.pinimg.com/736x/5b/10/9d/5b109d8067eeb0bb8f9d1cd05d24272a.jpg
I dunno! Its always a little funny seeing a bunch of random dick tom and harrys razz those of the striderian kin. Ought to have the ability to throw tomatoes at the screen.
Its like france and stuff!
I wonder how many honest to goodness fellas assume im of the european steeze strictly by the way i get on about the web. I think im just more mush mouthed than anything. Personally anyway!
Oh jade. You always know just what to say to cheer a fella up. Hey is your icon off kilter or is it just me seeing things a little screwy.
Well durr yeah i think being someones skippy ol pappy is the worst it can get.
Frankly i guess im a little green about all these clam happy englishes running tootsweet with their happily claimed ankle biters. I thought for a long time maybe i was incapable of junk like that but maybe it really is just a *me* thing. Like maybe other mes have got their noggins screwed on straight and im stuck in the muck being some kind of silly boy about the little things.
Huh?
Pour one out for our pals of the olden era. Instead of jonesing it up with your best guys on the web about your various whackadoodle interests you were just called ol johnny pervert and shipped to the nut house.
True!
How come the consort kingdom aerospace center hasnt gotten a howdy do back about their big top bottle rocket race featuring a ship in your likeliness? Good heavens to betsy milady these scaly sonuvas and bubble blowing big brains are primed on their adorable little haunches!
Not like that!
This is why i trust my most hearty and ineffable squeeze! My firmest and snuggest gal pal were just two bugs in a rug.
CAN THE RAPSCALLIONS ABOVE ME KEEP THEIR BRITCHES ON.
:(
They only have four fingers janey you must excuse their slapdash craftsmanship. They simply didnt mean to give you a big ol loogie and a fat little bottom.
Me and you tav maybe its a page thing.
Say does anyone start to sweat when theyre alone for no good reason or is it just me.
You cant just have a one man harlem shake...
Happy pride month folks!!
Nobody ever wants to chow down on ol jakes sweet potato and asparagus casserole.
Every time i turn up to some klatch i get this kind of overhanging presence like theres some humbug shooting me the heebie jeebies. At first i thought it was a sponsor hot on my tail and trying to trap my fur for falling off the wagon but ive come to find that its actually probably nothing at all! And im just being kind of hypervigilant for no reason.
It brings a tear to my eye to hear folks take "our boys in blue" as some tip of the hat towards the boys with a badge and *not* an inclusive shoutout to our (very) fine fellas up and down the middle gradient of the (caddish) (NOT good) hemospectrum.
Attention, I would like to personally thank Hektor Castio, @gallavantingGourmand, for serving as Witness to the Duel between Captain Mirith and myself. His presence was appreciated. His discretion was, at select intervals, almost convincing. There is a particular value in having a third set of eyes present when two Officers meet in private to settle a matter of friction, pressure, stamina, and steel. One wants the record to be accurate. One wants the angles pReserved. One wants someone with a steady hand nearby when the formalities become difficult to describe without sounding indecorous. Hektor, to his credit, remained admirably attentive. He observed the Captain’s advance. He observed my resistance. He observed the moment that resistance became a matter of debate. He observed the aftermath with the seriousness due any scene involving a compromised Uniform, a breathing imbalance, and two Officers who had spent themselves quite thoroughly in pursuit of satisfaction. Following the Duel, he was also gracious enough to provide a portrait. For the portrait, naturally. That is why we permitted him to linger. That is why the evening required additional time, additional arrangement, and a more intimate study of posture, expression, placement, bruising, and hue. A proper portrait is not made from memory alone. It requires patience. Proximity. Correction. Occasionally, one must return to the same position several times before the hand understands what the eye has Witnessed. Captain Mirith and I both appreciate Hektor’s dedication to his craft. Whatever others may infer from the three of us remaining together after the formal matter had concluded, I would remind Chittr that Witness work can be demanding, portraiture can be exhausting, and highblood Ceremony often requires more than the untrained public is prepared to comprehend. Gaze upon it. @diligentAcquisitions https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/f1807fced590.png Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
:o) 'The Sin of Badras' is a seminal work of the six hundred and twenty fifth Grand Highblood, Poteni Pikoli :o) It tells the story of Badras, a penitent highblood sinner who is charged with greatest heresy and his struggles to win back the trust and love of his Family. :o) He is given several trials to complete by the Church, which culminate in the hardest and most brutal of all. :o) He must slay his lowblood lover. :o) The play calls for the actual lowblood playing the role of Johana to be culled live on stage. It's very emotional and visceral. :o) @handMaid and I took up the call to put on a performance of our own! Here we are in the final moment, where Badras cradles the body of his matesprit in his arms, and wonders whether it was all worth it. :o) He in the end decides, of course, that it was. There's no lowbloods in the Carnival, after all. In the end, he'll have his Family or he'll have nobody.
:33 < i just got fucking 30 notifs of people liking my suggestion to delete mewr account :33 < so i think purrhaps mewr the only one who thinks i'm a bad kitty >:33c :33 < mewr move asshole
:33 < delete mewr account at 88 followers
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