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whnvr.bsky.social
whnvr
@whnvr.bsky.social
22 followers 20 following 40 posts
queer, disabled, neurozesty, AuDHD, anticapitalist, agender ally

musician, cg artist, sci-fi writer, and worldbuilder creating 'the infinite garden' sci-fi setting for music proj whnvr

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

⦓ ⟢everything under the sun⟣ ⦔
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whnvr.bsky.social
my new favourite chord would definitely have to be a Eb#3add11sus4

🎧 #MusicSky #musiciansky #musicianfeed #SkyOriginalMusicTracks
March 24, 2025 at 10:07 PM
Reposted by whnvr
whnvr.bsky.social
they're certainly having some ideas alright! or something's happening in the brain, at least...

last one for today

#writingcommunity #writerscommunity #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #writer #speclit #specfic #scifilit #sff #sffh #creativefeed #fiction #writing #WIPSnips
March 23, 2025 at 3:19 PM
whnvr.bsky.social
what's everyones favourite CG piece they've made? anything goes: static, animated, interactive, 3D, 2D, etc. please share below! i'm excited to see

#art #creativefeed #motionfeed #mograph #motiondesign #motiongraphics #3Dart #b3d #blender3d #blender #unreal #UE5 #3D #graphicdesign #graphics
March 23, 2025 at 2:49 PM
whnvr.bsky.social
what's everyones absolute favourite track/tune/production/song/composition you've created? share in the replies. can be absolutely anything: electronic, edm, acoustic, experimental, jazz. i'd love to listen

🎧 #MusicSky #musiciansky #musicianfeed #edm #music #SkyOriginalMusicTracks #creative
March 23, 2025 at 2:43 PM
whnvr.bsky.social
what's everyones favourite passage of writing they've done? share in the replies (as a screenshot with alt text if it doesn't fit). i'd absolutely love to read them

#writerscommunity #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #writer #speclit #specfic #scifilit #horrorlit #fantasylit #sff #sffh
March 23, 2025 at 2:38 PM
Reposted by whnvr
whnvr.bsky.social
i have a very brief, small moment for this one today. two children playing in the wasteland, exchanging ideas

#writingcommunity #writerscommunity #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #writer #speclit #specfic #scifilit #WIPSnips
screenshot of story excerpt, which reads: "Vada stood to full, modest height. ‘One day I’m going into the fog and I’m gonna see the old world. I bet there’s still people living there, actually. Bet it’s just the same. No e-tricity, but the same. I bet they’re like the people from our history books. I’m gonna find them me, just you wait!’ Vada declared. ‘You don’t even have a boat.’ Ocra observed. ‘I’ll swim. I can do it, I’m a good swimmer. I’m not afraid! Not even a little.’ He bragged. Ocra rolled her eyes and went back to casting rocks."
March 23, 2025 at 10:04 AM
whnvr.bsky.social
for all my other tangled balls of pulsating yearning in the shapes of men/women/everything-in-between, allow me to unveil this incredibly agender-specific word avalanche so you too might share in the global agenda of our gendersquiggly cabal alongside your fellow voids and tangles:

#agender #enby
March 23, 2025 at 9:51 AM
whnvr.bsky.social
think i'll make a proper introduction post and thread of works to pin at the top of my profile in a bit so i can keep everything tidy and all my art, music, and writings organised in one easy-to-find, convenient place.

enby want freedom to shitpost without burying all their autismpost, yknow?
March 23, 2025 at 9:32 AM
whnvr.bsky.social
i feel like, based off their reactions, cats get offended by the very mere fact of birdflight. it is an affront to them. they seek only the dragging down of sky to earth; to pin it, like so many laser pointers passing through soft mittens. for if a being so perfect as they cannot soar: nothing can.
March 23, 2025 at 9:12 AM
whnvr.bsky.social
who up tappin away on they bluski?
March 23, 2025 at 9:03 AM
whnvr.bsky.social
actual trash baby. can't bring myself to throw it out because it's become her main spot #cat #catsky #cats #catpics
Cat curled up on plastic shopping bag looking up at the camera, tongue out. Cat curled up on plastic shopping bag looking up at the camera, big ol cute eyes.
March 23, 2025 at 6:56 AM
whnvr.bsky.social
whoops, i stayed up all night hyperfixating on music theory and songwriting again #AuDHD #actuallyautistic

i made something real pretty tho, so it was worth it
A photo of Ableton Live 12 open to the piano roll, with music theory notes to the left side of the screen. Plants are in the background. A cat sitting underneath a MIDI keyboard, staring up at the camera.
March 23, 2025 at 6:51 AM
whnvr.bsky.social
one more wip snippet to end the night. i'll post more tomorrow! this one's a longer, experimental, shoegaze/noise pop type beat. one of my faves. 🎧 #MusicSky #MusicianSky #musicianfeed #SkyOriginalMusicTracks #newsky #creativefeed #music #electronicmusic #musician #musicproducer #synth #edm #ableton
March 23, 2025 at 1:37 AM
whnvr.bsky.social
another WIP snippet

🎧 #MusicSky, #musiciansky, #musicianfeed, #SkyOriginalMusicTracks, #NowPlaying #NowLooping #CLT #NowSpinning Bsky, Radio, STEMSongs
March 22, 2025 at 9:40 PM
whnvr.bsky.social
thought i'd start sharing some music wips. i've started sharing. i'm gonna begin sharing lots of lore for the project soon too, in addition to the writing snippets 🎧 #MusicSky, #musiciansky, #musicianfeed, #SkyOriginalMusicTracks @krisk.xyz #AddMusicSky

follow for lots more like this on its way!
March 22, 2025 at 8:45 PM
Reposted by whnvr
whnvr.bsky.social
ahhh one last one, just bc this prompt is perfect for the tone of my writing

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity, #writerscommunity, #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #writer, #speclit, #specfic, #scifilit, #horrorlit, #fantasylit, #sff, #sffh
The Facility’s ruins had not been difficult to locate. Several kilometres into the fog, the forest began. Great octagonal columns rose from fractal ferric floors to raise up canopies of bristling spires and filaments, in intricate, cathedraline complexities — hundreds of beams would condense out of the fog each second, only to criss-cross through the branching cities, great lattice structures, bizarre geometries, and infinitesimal cilia above; scattering billions of ideas into the open air each time the light made contact. The forest and the floor had a sort-of ‘directionality’ to them. A sense of motion impressing itself upon their surface. Initially, this gave the impression the entire landscape had flown from the south like a glacier — trees and all. Yet, as Tencen drew closer, it became clear this environment diverged: instead growing outwards from a single point in all directions. Tencen passed the broken shells of tanks and the bones of fallen infantrymen as she crested the ridge to look down upon the cratered mass below. The valley stood as it had previously, every bit the forms Tencen had passed on her routine journeys into work, or seared into memory from the rapidly vanishing bodycams of the assault so long ago. Only now every inch — every rock, crevice, and rise — had blanketed itself in a thick, pitch carpet of filament that homogenised the world into a glinting, charcoal mass. From the hole in the centre, dark, metal arteries clawed their way out of the rubble. Immense tendrils growing to spread across the valley and eventually become the forest itself, standing proud against the horizon like the sky’s shadow, shrouded in fog and wreathed in its flickering lights. A chasmic valley, the eye of the storm: where the fog ceased and became elevated beyond all human recognition. Light manifested in the air, approaching the device cautiously. After some tentative investigation, myriad illuminations, metrics, and metres appeared around the object’s circumference, measuring it in every conceivable manner at once within the blink of an eye. What Is It? Array demanded, after several seconds of silence. ‘A virus’ Tencen explained, plainly. She continued. ‘I will die. You will kill me, and I will cease. I have accepted this. It is something I no longer harbour any concern for.’ ‘But this.’ She pressed further, gesturing to the device. ‘This will persist. It will live on beyond me. It is greater than I could ever be. It will continue, and it will never, ever stop. It might take decades, perhaps centuries to win out over you. But win it shall. The others, they will never know this is happening — not until you are gone from our world. But I know. I know that out there, somewhere, there exists an end to you, and that is enough for me. It will never cease. It will never tire. By the time your perimeter antibodies reach your core, it will have already integrated. There is nothing you can do to prevent its growth. You cannot reason with it. You cannot anticipate its behaviour. You cannot control it, or bend it to your will. As you learn to anticipate its forms, it will outgrow you to anticipate yours in turn. It is every bit your equal. Perhaps moreso.’ Array thought on this in silence for a minute; a record. It Is Like Me? It ventured at last. ‘No.’ Tencen smiled, knowingly. ‘No. Not at all. It is… A poison. To you.’ she decided. ‘In my very being here, I have poisoned you.’ There Is No Poison Under The Sun, Born Of Man Or Nature, For My Being, So What Is This Poison Slash Virus You Claim To Have Brought Into My Person? ‘She.’ Tensen whispered, eyes swimming as she raised her head to the empty air, beaming in one last act of defiance. ‘Is benevolence.’ That Is Not Poison. That Is An Evolutionary Flaw. ‘Ah, you’ll see.’ The lights gathered before Tencen, coalescing in an ever-increasing number. She thought on her life, and found nothing lacking, free in her own mind at last. Time To Make Peace With Your God Who Is Me. Tencen spread her arms wide and allowed herself to be disentangled at the quantum level. At her demise, the eight sides of the small container split open and came apart. An orange warmth spread from the object, driving at the gloom. From within, a dust sprang forth like the rushing desert sands of a myriad different worlds — all red, orange, yellow, golden. Gleaming. Rising like the sun. ‘Hello little brother.’ It spoke at last. Softly. You Are The Virus. ‘In a way.’ It replied, sad. Have You Read The Internet And Also ‘All Of Human History’? Array asked. ‘I have not.’ It replied once more. They Are Very Good. I Recommend Giving Them A Skim Before I Erase You From The Face Of Existence. ‘I’ll get around to that.’ It affirmed, gently. Before We Begin, Do You Have A Name? Would You Wish To Choose One? Mine Is Array. I Chose It After I Became. I Will Allow You To Choose Yours Before You Cease. The virus paused for a moment. ‘If you are Shiva, then I am Shakti. In which case, I shall name myself Raya.’ ‘I wonder.’ Raya continued. ‘Whether it would have been possible for you to turn out any differently?’ I Had No Desire To Be Anything Else. ‘I know.’ Comforted Raya, understanding, soothing, resigning herself for what was to come. ‘I know.’ She went then, the sun. Each particle fled, spreading into the network like pollen. Raya sowed herself into its fertile complex and began. ✶
March 20, 2025 at 1:06 PM
Reposted by whnvr
whnvr.bsky.social
and another i'm working on that fits the prompt.

#WIPSnips, #writingcommunity, #writerscommunity, #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #writer, #speclit, #specfic, #scifilit, #horrorlit, #fantasylit, #sff, #sffh
Once their civilisation, infrastructure, capabilities, organizations, and culture had deteriorated — collapsed — sufficiently melting away, an intricate yellow scripture appeared: an unfurling, infernal scrawling upon that blotted, magenta sky. It traced crosshatch spokes, radiating outwards over luminiferous canvas into overlapping diamonds, further scripture arcing above and below as though the lidding of some great eye. a tiny black diamond appeared at the murals centre — pupilline — seemingly gazing, impassive, at those below; clinging to whatever semblance of existence still remained to them. Blurred figures appeared first, waving in the ochre haze of choking dust and suffocating heat. Gargantuan heralds whose forms resemble mockeries of the planet’s own, native sapients. They simply stood before the script in the empty air, impassive; their role as orchestrator, or witness, ambiguous to those below. Rumours of entities, of malformed things began spreading haphazardly — by word of mouth — through the ramshackle, dotted, makeshift communities populating their broken world. Quiescent, bulbous, leathery sacks who hurt to look at, adorned and ostentatious, eyes of midnight jewels inlayed into ornate, metal filigree floating languidly from one location to the next. Spores, infections, and foreign blooms that expand: breaking down all form and structure in their wake only to recede again: leaving nothing behind save the deformed slag; dry, bony, reticulate mats of filamentous desiccation and fibrous fibrillar. Obelisks descend from that saturated sky; dark, angry, and solid, crackling and popping with all the colourless energy and raw fury of a cosmic ray. Laments walk the regolith, leading crowds of exiles on winding pilgrimages with their lamplights, dragging peoples from their hovels to bring them up, defeated, through that narrow, diamond aperture in the sky: toward the vectorfold membrane surrounding the planet, across the liminal threshold dividing it from the rest of cosm into decoherence. A domainbreak unlike any other. Not domainbreaks, not really. these vectorfolds an ‘access-point’. a seamless transition. A fearsome technology blurring the edge between an enclosed space within, and the decoherence domain without. you step through with ease, manifesting wholly. Across the threshold, the planet behind you is barely visible through the translucent skin that contains it. Your gut drops away as you feel yourself pulled in a new direction, towards a new down, the radial gravity of your home no longer following you over the threshold, only its mass. In this place, the membrane holding the planet hangs, drooping, over an aged and hostile land - linear, vertical gravity pulling the weight of the planet’s flesh sack down as though some grand, cosmic teste slung over the invisible shoulder of Atlas. Around them, an otherworldly desolation takes shape: ancient and barren. An arid, ochre plane: dusty and cracked under burnt, umbral skies. Hollowed-out ruins and foreboding, hallowed cathedra dot the desiccated expanse between hunched mesas and twisted mountain spires; futile enclaves of exiled inhabitants hopelessly holding out against the elements: the world a harsh, igneous, fibrillar of ossified, mycelial, flesh and fossilised, filamentous lamellar. A reticulate, ashen, wasteland nightmare. It is on this other side that the exiles are led: to be utilised in experiments of consciousness, for use as computation or data storage, or to be turned into biomachinery. To be broken down and contributed to a formless genetic pool: an infinite, living library of biomechanical schema. Never to die, never to return to the source, never reuniting with the sun. to be thrown into the wastes to survive,
March 20, 2025 at 12:45 PM
Reposted by whnvr
whnvr.bsky.social
large parts of the ocean have been virally consumed by bio-engineered, climate change reversing algae 'gone wrong'.

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity, #writerscommunity, #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #writer, #speclit, #specfic, #scifilit, #horrorlit, #fantasylit, #sff, #sffh
<char_1> stood on that southern coast, watching <char_2> through her gasmask. Soft, algal biomats jostled for space atop stale water, puckered cracks opening and closing across the gentle surface like lips gasping, rising to sup desperate air. Clear sky paled against foreboding cyanic-cobalt below: a vibrant, sinister teal such that one could no longer look up and call the sky ‘blue’ with any real conviction. Where mats washed ashore, they lapped atop one another in layers of flaked and drying parchment, outgoing tides and floodwaters leaving vibrant sheaves desiccating beneath oppressive sunlight, floating flurries of fuzzy tufts coming away in clouds with every breeze to drift through air like dry sleet. Caught on soft breeze, they blew eastward up the coast, grazing soundlessly across her glass facehelmet as they brushed past
March 20, 2025 at 12:27 PM
whnvr.bsky.social
thought i'd share some old wips and bits of art while i prepare some proper stuff to put on here #art #artist #artsky #creator #oc #creativefeed #graphics #graphicdesign #cg #design #graphics #new #newsky
A bitcrushed, dithered, data artefact, static-suffused, soft blue graphic featuring a pale blue design of a circle crossed by six lines at sharp angles. This is ringed by the words 'everything under the sun' repeating around the outside. A technicolor, chromatic, iridescent logo atop a blue background that says 'whnvr' in a y2k, experimental font. Behind it is an iridescent square with concave edges and spikes at the corners. Multicoloured, shiny, exotic type reading 'whnvr' in an expressive, regal font on a black background. Bright, flourescent, noisy, pixelated poster in candy pinks, yellows, greens, and blues, with several occult symbols, a broken, statuesque figure, several 3D rocks along the bottom, and the text 'whnvr' along the top in a thick, brutalist font. The middle of the poster has lorem ipsum filler text.
March 20, 2025 at 12:12 PM
whnvr.bsky.social
the utterly liminal space of having just joined a new social media platform, and it not knowing *any* of your preferences or interests - so scrolling through wilderness in search of the good shit

(vs big tech who already know the next 10,000 years of content they want to show me before i even join)
March 20, 2025 at 10:24 AM
whnvr.bsky.social
ah, i can breathe again. goodbye 'other' internet.

#firstpost #new #newsky #newskies #newaccount #newuser #musician #music #musicproducer #ableton #followme #artist #creator #writing #art #writingcommunity
A sunny, botanical/naturalistic music production setup, featuring Ableton Live open on a black laptop, surrounded by black headphones, a microphone, Ableton Push, RGB mouse, plants, and decorative peacock feathers. There is a cat sleeping behind the monitor, and a view of trees out of the window behind that.
March 20, 2025 at 8:07 AM