#UNRELATED FUNCTIONING OBJECT

[identifying-ufos-in-posts]

GEN 105 STONETOSS SKIPPER MODEL-STL

HELLO "CHUMBLR." I HAVE MADE THIS "BLOG" WITH THE EXPRESS PURPOSE OF SHARE MY LOVE OF OCTARIAN AIRCRAFT AND OUR INGENUITY. PLEASE SENDING ME YOUR IMAGES AND POSTS OF OCTARIAN HOVERCRAFT OF ANY KINDNESS AND THANKS YOU FOR YOUR TIME.

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[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

4-5 I have been having a lot of thoughts about the franchise lately, tbh, mainly in line with

"Where is the leftist activism in their universe?"

"Where are the disability advocates talking about how people are dehumanizing people with mutations, or how all adaptation is s double sided coin or how being socially disabled is still a disability"

"Where is the Autistic mutant alliance?"

"Where is the Queers for mutant rights advocacy groups?"

"Where's the intersex mutant alliance groups?"

"Where are the people pointing out that the x gene is by far not the only human mutation that causes both symptoms and sometimes different abilities, and that maybe these are not issues we can separate?"

"Where are the people trying to point out that framing it as mutant vs human instead of human vs human is like when we let them start calling anti-fascism 'antifa' to sound scary?"

We always see either mobs coded as republican and American Christians of the worst sort or hate groups to the far right, but does leftism not exist in their universe, we hardly ever see a non mutant individual speak out publicly in their favour at all. I know the left is full of infighting and mutants would make terf's heads explode, but like... Where is the intersectionality?

And Magneto... My biggest gripe with him is how he never mentions the disabled or queer in the same breath as mutants, and it comes across like mutations with powers are the only ones he cares about... It comes off like eugenics which I feel like super would not realistically be his bit.

I have so many... Notes. Especially about a modern 2024 take on the x-men...

So like yeah I am invested in the franchise to a fairly high degree, but a lot of it is demanding they get better cooks. I am attached to these characters now and I want to see them written better.

You were never going to be palatable to the political right, unless they lack all media literacy at all. Stop tiptoeing.

Before kicking off a project I want to gauge what the heat will be like here so do me a favor and answer honestly on a scale of 1 (complete apathy) to 5 (devout enthusiasm):

[lazyjellyfish300]

merriment shrine 🎄⛩️

synopsis: you're the newest concubine in Lord Sukuna's household and the object of his unrelenting ruminations (or is it desire?). When Uraume tasks you with being in charge of the Christmas festivities while Sukuna is away, you can only hope you'll deliver. What could go wrong? 🎄 largely inspired by this fic by @/sttoru 💕 words: 7.5k

cw: minors dni, x FEM!READER(Yuri), concubines, smut(p in v, double penetration(not too detailed), monster sex? I guess bc true form!Sukuna sex is not normal sex, oral f and m receiving, titty fucking, degradation, creampie(not too detailed), cum eating), violence, blood, Sukuna is a warning on his own, true form!Sukuna, SUKUNA HAS BEEF WITH BABY JESUS. MOCKING OF RELIGION/BLASPHEMY (PLS DONT READ IF THAT BOTHERS YOU. IT'S SUKUNA FFS) decapitation, bullying, heian era but it's all over the place historically and NOT accurate. angst, fluff, crack

a/n: For the secret Santa fic exchange event by @nanamiscocksleeve written for @heian-era-housewife ! I deeply apologize for the late entry! I was very intimidated writing for him for the first time but I hope you like it. 😩🎅🏽🎄💕 Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!✨

my holiday smut masterlist 🎄

dividers by @/saradika-graphics. pics from pinterest

You mused peacefully as you took in the gentle dance of snowflakes outside your chamber windows, thinking if you squinted hard enough you could make out the intricate shape of each one before they landed silently on the thin dusty layer of those that fell before on the undisturbed gardens.

You hugged your kimono a little tighter around you as you sipped your tea you had laced with some ginger and cinnamon, much to the confusion of the cooks in the kitchen. The distant glare of the fireplace bestowed a soothing warmth that kept you locked in place.

Since you arrived, it quickly became no secret that you, the newest concubine to join the harem under the formidable king of curses, brought with you a peculiarity. Certain quirks that endeared you to the servants and annoyed the other concubines.

You emitted a humble air about you like the shades of aqua and seafoam green you gravitated towards. You often opted for untouched corners of the garden next to the pond and the library where you could read and write in solitude that became mistaken for arrogance by the others.

And for whatever reason or another, you insisted on this...holiday business or whatever the hell you called it, gently humming those insufferable tunes under your breath that carried though the marble hallways and adorning your room in makeshift tinsel and boughs of holly you strung together from stray pieces of greenery you found by the koi pond.

It was a very frustrating type of conundrum Sukuna didn't appreciate that was causing ripples in his vast household, especially now, as he studies you from his neighboring window on the opposite side of the estate, stroking his chin, eyes narrowed.

"My Lord." Uraume bows as their smaller frame appears in his doorway.

"Speak." Sukuna responds, not tearing those eyes of a deep rose away from where you were perched in your window, a pointed black claw gently scratching the sharp ridge of his jaw in deep thought.

"I need to know of your plans for the winter feast preparations."

"What of it?" Sukuna answers coldly.

Uraume doesn't flinch, being all too familiar with Sukuna's temperament. They knew he would rather fork out his eyeballs than waste time with frivolous matters like festive planning. Too reminiscent of the folly those disgusting humans preoccupied themselves with.

But, Uraume also knew the blind fury that would await them should they make arrangements for anything impacting the routine functions of Sukuna's household without his knowledge.

"A proposal, my lord." Uraume continues calmly. "Since we are not expecting your grace's presence until the 24th, perhaps we leave the bulk of the planning to someone else?"

Sukuna scoffed. "And who would that be?"

"One of the concubines."

"Who? He asks, slight incredulity now mixed in his sternness. "Her?"

"She...brings a new set of traditions."

"I am aware, I was not born yesterday."

"...I thought his majesty would appreciate-"

"Appreciate? Uraume, do not speak foolishly." Sukuna scolded, now fully turned to face them, his two upper muscular arms folded across his body.

Uraume merely stayed where they were, silent, undemonstrative of any reaction which they knew Sukuna preferred while he strode about the room, beginning to pace.

Finally, Sukuna came to a stop. "So be it. As long as I am not to be trifled with such matters again until my return, I do not care what the little brat does."

He paused, his expression unmoving as he addresses them one more time. "I have the most trust in your judgement, Uraume. Do not disappoint me."

"Yes, my Lord." Uraume bows again as Sukuna takes his leave, but not before eyeing you one more lingering glance before he departs, a shred of annoyance when he realizes despite the distance, he wouldn't be rid of you from his thoughts anytime soon.

-----

"My lady." Uraume addresses you from your doorway and you stand abruptly, bowing in acknowledgement.

"Uraume, good to see you."

"Thank you." Uraume answers pleasantly, a slight inflection in their tone carrying a fondness at your usual kindness towards them.

Although you were aloof, odd, and provided more than an earful that Uraume had to bear witness to from the other concubines, at least you treated them respectfully, unlike them.

"Lord Sukuna has departed on business with no plans to return until the 24th."

You stood up slowly, quirking a curious brow at the unexpected news.

"It is tradition that his grace hosts a feast for the winter solstice." Uraume explains. "To usher in the cold season and provide festivities. But, due to his absence, we are in need of someone to make arrangements..." Uraume clears their throat, clearly a little nervous at what your response will be, since the success of it was mostly riding on your willingness to participate.

"Would you be willing to lead the preparations, my lady?"

Silence hangs in mid air before you speak. "Me?"

"Of course." Uraume hums. "I don't doubt you'll be more than capable. I, along with many others, have noticed you celebrating this-Christmas? You call it?"

"Yes, that's right." You straighten up a little. "I mean, I'd love throw a celebration for Lord Sukuna. But, why me?"

"Well, my lady. As I said before, you are very capable. I noticed you seem to have an eye for these kinds of details between your drawings, writings, and your.." Their fuschia eyes flicker briefly to the parchment ornaments adorning a potted plant in the corner. "...creations." Their lip curls upward in a meek grin.

"Between you and I, I have never cared much for the traditions, either. Too overwhelming. But, I am curious about yours. You've caused quite a stir among the ladies of the house and, if I may speak openly..." Uraume gulps and looks at the walls nervously as if they had eyes into the conversation before lowering their voice.

"You are the first in a long while whom I have been able to tolerate, and who has treated me kindly unlike so many before you."

You give Uraume a sympathetic glance, now determined to deliver on your promise of a celebration worth waiting for.

"We'll start tomorrow."

----

The shrine slowly transformed day by day. The halls became lined with pine needles accented by soft candles that emitted a heavenly glow. As the snow piled up, you recruited the help of the servants, smiling at their bewildered expressions that turned to pure joy as they touched snow for the first time, constructing an army of snowmen with various hats, scarves, and other accessories they could find around the estate, complete with carrot noses provided by the kitchen.

You, Uraume, and a team of gardeners from the palace ventured into the woods and hand selected multiple spruce trees, and, with their help, chopped them down, strapping them with ropes and dragging them back so the shrine could have its own assortment of Christmas trees, complete with what seemed to be nearly hundreds of crochet and parchment snowflake ornaments.

You had fashioned them with Uraume and some of the other ladies in waiting during craft hours in the evenings. Presents wrapped in scarlet ribbons and offerings to Sukuna began to encircle the bottom of the largest tree in the grand hall.

Across the way, however, the group of other concubines avoided the spreading merriment with disdain and scowls on their faces, not even touching or wandering in the vicinity of the Christmas trappings as though it contained a plague.

You began hosting caroling rehearsals and only you, Uraume, and a few other members of the kitchens staff had joined while your bitter cohorts tried their best to drown out the noise on the far side of the shrine, the leader of the group shooting a fiery glare at one of her minions when she began to blindly hum the catchy tune.

As Christmas Eve drew closer, the warm baked goodies become more innumerable as they popped out of the kitchen and the bakers perfected their abilities to whip up treats worthy of the season. The shrine had adopted a permanent scent of gingerbread, cinnamon, pine and peppermint that followed and clung to your robes.

----

On the 23rd, the day before Christmas Eve, you and Uraume were baking and laughing with flour stained faces,

"To think, we did all this in just a few weeks' time." Uraume mused as they squished the gingerbread dough between their fingers. "Lord Sukuna will be pleased. Yes, very pleased with you indeed."

The sentiment left you with a very healthy dose of fluster as you grinned at the thought of his majesty marveling at all the work you did just for him, possibly rewarding you with something much better than you could imagine as those eyes of deep rose bestowed you subtle admiration that had not graced anyone else.

Unknown to you, an eavesdropping ear belonging to one of the concubines catches wind of this statement and skitters away quickly to spread her message to the others.

----

"Spit it out already!" The cruel eyed leader of the concubines hisses to the messenger.

"I overheard that Lord Sukuna chose her specifically to lead this Christmas tradition and intends to reward her and place her higher above the rest of us, earning his grace's favor so that we might be cast out into the streets!"

Shock, fury, outrage, and blind jealousy erupted among the other concubines.

"What shall we do?" "That goddamn slut, I knew she was no good." "She needs to go!"

"Silence!!" The leader screeched over the others. "She will be dealt with. We must take matters into our own hands so Lord Sukuna is displeased and has no option but to execute her. Listen to me, I have a plan..."

And the other concubines huddled around her eagerly as they plotted your downfall.

----

Everything was ready for the elaborate Christmas Eve homecoming feast for Lord Sukuna.

The finest beast was being roasted on a spit over fiery coals under careful supervision by Uraume. In the kitchen, the chefs were hard at work chopping vegetables they had culled from the winter harvest. Puddings and treats were being whipped up and presented beautifully in festive arrangements on fine platters.

The smell of Christmas cooking overwhelmed you as you stood in the great hall, clad in a new royal jade kimono with golden ornate leaves woven in your hair that never made you appear more elegant than on this Christmas Eve of festivities.

You thought of Sukuna and what he might think when his powerful presence graced these halls again. An odd mixture of fear and admiration you harbored for him that inspired you to want to please him. Feelings about him you couldn't quite place ever since he selected you to live in his shrine even though your head had not yet graced the silk of his bedsheets.

Lord Sukuna's carnal appetites were of no mystery to you. You had heard plenty of rumors about how rough and relentless he could be. His preferences seemed to be both selective, yet apathetic if that even made sense.

You had heard the screams and loud noises of primality from behind his sealed oak doors that echoed into late hours. Though all of his concubines would walk away with their own satisfaction eventually, his copulation apparently came with scars and rough treatment.

Seldom, if ever would his fucking deviate into lovemaking territory, much less tenderness and intimacy. That is where his selectiveness came in. The gentle sighs, gasps of mind melting pleasure, soul binding thrusts, consuming kisses dotted lovingly all along your nape, breasts, and inner thighs while being brought to the pedestals of pleasure you craved to know one day from the touch of a man you were deeply in love with, seemed to be reserved for someone of an unattainable caliber to Sukuna.

Until he met someone worthy, his concubines were nothing more than warm vessels of temporary satisfaction until his thirst returned.

But, here you were daydreaming that you could be the recipient of such love from him despite all odds.

----

"Whore, we're trying to speak to you!"

An indignant voice rips you out of your thoughts and you turn around, jarred at the sight of the head concubine with her supporters close by. You were outnumbered one to many. A piece of meat left to the wolves. Subtle panic slithered in and wrapped around your throat when Uraume was nowhere to be found.

The leader's scowl melted from her face into a honeyed grin, her long nails outstretching and wrapping around a delicate glass reindeer from a gorgeous wintery scene Sukuna's craftspeople had spent countless hours on.

"P-please be careful-" You raise a shaky hand.

The leader hisses at you, stealing the reindeer out of reach, her icy stare renders you speechless again. Her expression then morphs back into a sugary tone, a snake's venomous fangs concealed behind her pretty face.

"Tell me, darling. Does Lord Sukuna know you've been defiling his shrine this entire time he's been gone?" She asks as she turns the reindeer in between her graceful fingers.

"Defiling...?" You choke out, perplexed.

"Yes, defiling. With these, disgusting-"

You jump in alarm as she abruptly hurls the glass deer to the ground, watching it explode into shards as soon as it meets the unforgiving marble.

"filthy-" she reaches this time for a wreath of holly, casting it onto one of the glowing candles, setting it ablaze.

"pathetic-" the others have now joined in, breaking and trashing all your beloved Christmas decorations, hours of hard work and care being ripped, torn, shredded, and cast into the fire one after another.

"Stop, stop, please!!!" You cry and shriek, voice drowned in anguish but when you raise your hand to stop her, she turns on you immediately, the others coming to her aid, ripping and tearing at your gorgeous kimono.

"You think Lord Sukuna gives a shit about you and your stupid little Christmas traditions?" She snarls as her and the others claw the golden leaves out of your hair and they clutter on the floor, your robes now nearly in tatters. "You're just another slut. A weak, useless, ugly-"

You cower and brace for the worst, but your insides turn when you hear a warm squelch as blood splattered against the walls. A shudder runs through you at the unmistakable sound of dismantle and cleave; the King of Curses had returned.

You look up and you see him first, averting your gaze immediately and kneeling for fear of losing your head next. You're not sure how many of the concubines or servants within the vicinity were slain, but you're guessing a lot, if not all, based on the sea of blood on either side of where you were crouched.

"We'll have no more of that." Sukuna tsk'd. Those stern eyes raked over the scene, seething in annoyance at the mess in front of him. His eyes land on you and he squints as he draws closer, sensing the tremble of your frame as you didn't dare move from your spot.

"Breathe, for gods' sakes, human." He commands. "Stand up, now. Don't keep me waiting."

You rise on shaky knees, keeping your gaze downwards until you straighten up completely, looking into the formidable face of your lord and unexpected savior.

"My Lord."

"Tch." Sukuna clicks his teeth, looking over you. "This is what you call a celebration for the King of Curses?"

"I-..." You shake your head, the lump in your throat obstructing both the oxygen and words in your brain. "I can explain..."

"I do not require an answer." He growled, and you shut your lips, gaze averted downward once again in fearful shame. "You are a mess." His eyes appraise you in scrutinizing pity.

He had seen enough to know this fiasco wasn't entirely your fault. But still, the irritation he felt towards you prior for sticking out so prominently in his brain was rearing its ugly head. It was unlike Sukuna to ruminate, to toil in his mind for hours, especially over a human like you, no less.

He will deal with that later. For now, he still expects a proper feast and celebration after his lengthy travels.

"Uraume." His voice reverberates off the stony walls and Uraume is immediately at his side, their pupils dilating slightly at you in alarm at the devastating state of the grand hall that was beautifully adorned and decorated less than an hour before.

"Clean her up immediately and bring her to my chambers. In the meantime, have any available servants scrub up this mess."

"Right away, my Lord."

----

A while later, you walk slowly towards Sukuna who's standing by his window. You're dressed in fresh robes chosen by him specifically of a bleeding garnet like his eyes. You take in the grand sight of him, the way the darkened shadows would bend at his back and wrap around whatever he was facing, nearly suffocating them with his presence that commanded reverence, humility, but most of all, fear. His broad shoulders, back, and booming voice with a majesty likened to the powerful mountain range that surrounded his shrine.

Even now, as he turns to face you with his monstrous appearance in his full glory with those four eyes, his harshness he exudes stirs a suppressed part of you that never desired to be removed from him. A forbidden kind of beauty not obvious to many that brimmed underneath that thick shell you were only barely skimming the surface.

"Better." Sukuna remarks, seemingly pleased with this new ensemble. "Now..."

He took a step towards you and you held your breath, preparing for the moment where you would inevitably be forced to give yourself to him and be at his non-existent mercy for whatever plans he had next. However, he surprises you.

"Are you just going to stand there, or will you join me for dinner?"

"Dinner?"

"I do not intend for my winter feast to go to waste." Sukuna frowns. "Seeing as my entire harem is now dead except for you, I have no choice but to rely on you to remedy this."

You look at him, dumbfounded. That wide gleam in your eyes that was brought out by the light hitting your irises whenever you had to crane your head to look at him(which was every time) almost pulls at him, for a moment. Almost.

"My Lord?"

"You may start from the beginning." Sukuna instructs, the top pair of arms folding seriously across his chest with the second pair on either side of his thick, muscular waist.

"Use this opportunity to prove yourself worthy and show me these ridiculous Christmas traditions you insisted on imposing on me before I change my mind, brat. "

----

"These are called snowmen, my Lord." Your teeth chatter slightly as you two come to a stop in front of the wall of snowmen you, Uraume, and the servants had constructed over several weeks in the courtyard.

Sukuna stares boredly, a rush of annoyance bubbling inside him as he lays eyes on their pebble smiles, goofy hats, and multi colored scarves.

But, his eyes widen ever so slightly when he takes notice of the biggest snowman that stood out towards the back. This one towered over the others with four sticks for arms instead of two, meeting Sukuna directly at his eye level. It had four sets of pebble eyes on its face with carefully carved markings, eerily similar to someone he knew...

"What is this?"

You gulp. "It is you, my Lord."

Sukuna stares, silent. "What is the purpose of this?"

"For visual display." You answer, slowly. "Personal enjoyment. Sculpting them and playing in the snow is half the fun."

"I care little for that." Sukuna waved his hand. He studied his snowman some more. "I suppose I will allow my likeness to be erected into snow. This is supposed to represent myself and my subjects?" His eyebrow raises slightly as his pair of undereyes flicker back to look at the dozens of other, smaller snowmen in front.

You nod, slightly encouraged by this reaction that wasn't all good, but wasn't all bad either. "Yes my Lord, it is."

"Hmph." Sukuna shoots air out of his nostrils in disapproval. Then, without warning he raises his arm. You duck quickly, and simultaneously each head of each snowman besides his own is sliced off and goes flying, shooting in the air and then landing and exploding like mashed pumpkins back onto the ground.

Sukuna looks with pride at his handiwork, his glorious snowman standing tall over his now decapitated army of snowy subjects.

"Now, it is perfect."

He joins his hands behind his back and walks off with a hum back towards the shrine, leaving you both endeared and confounded.

-----

Next tradition.

"Alright, my Lord." You wring your clammy hands nervously as you stand in front of Sukuna, who's opted to take a seat at the head of his banquet table.

He was stuffing his face with the roast beast that was at least spared by Uraume, his stomach mouth's comical tongue wagging in anticipation with drool before he tossed a couple bones for it to gnaw on obnoxiously like a crazed animal.

"I wish to share with you the legend known as Santa Claus. Otherwise known as Father Christmas, Saint Nicholas, Kris Kringle, among others."

Luckily, the feast seemed to make Sukuna more receptive, if that was even possible. Perhaps some of the restlessness (since he couldn't exactly experience hangry-ness that was exclusive to humans) was resolved by the smoked meat, giving his stomach mouth something to preoccupy him besides nagging Sukuna relentlessly.

"If you must." Sukuna rolls his eyes at you and then at the dopey expression his second mouth gives him while it's utterly high off the fresh bones it was chomping on.

"Well, this Christmas Eve night, he is said to fly and deliver presents around the world to all good children, spreading cheer and climbing into chimneys to leave presents under Christmas trees."

Sukuna's eyes narrow. "I will slaughter anyone who dares enter my household without permission." His stomach mouth gave a little belch. "I do not care for this Santa Claus you speak of."

This was true Sukuna fashion. Normally, you'd be mortified at his dramatics but by now, you had to do your best to stifle a giggle. "My Lord, it's merely a legend."

"That does not matter. If this Santa Claus you speak of attempts to enter my home, he will lose his head." Sukuna vows as he takes a hefty sip of wine before turning his glass to his stomach mouth. "Tell me about something else besides this ridiculous Santa Claus legend."

"Well..." You think for a moment then snap your fingers. "His grace might appreciate the legend of Krampus instead?"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, corners of his mouth still turned downward in displeasure.

You clear your throat, "Krampus is a legend, like Santa Claus except he is a half goat, half demon monster who punishes naughty children. As opposed to Saint Nick whom delivers gifts, Krampus will appear and punish children who misbehave with bundles of branches, or by eating them or taking them to hell... Erm, oh! He looks like this!" You grab a piece of parchment and ink brush, pausing for a moment to make a quick sketch of Krampus.

Sukuna leans back, folding his arms, as he watches you, patiently, expectantly for this new Christmas tradition you spoke of to be better than the dreaded Santa Claus. When you're done painting Krampus, you turn your makeshift masterpiece in Sukuna's direction.

To your delight, a rare, smug expression of satisfaction tugs at the corners of his mouth when he lays eyes on Krampus for the first time.

"This is much better. I will absorb all of this Krampus's cursed energy when he appears tonight. He would be very useful to me, indeed."

You don't have the heart, or bravery to remind Sukuna that Krampus also is just a myth. Sukuna folds his arms, signalling he's done with his dinner.

"This Krampus can stay. Now, on to the rest of your silly traditions, brat."

-----

As the night continues on, you demonstrate more traditions for Sukuna, slowly bringing him into your world of decked out halls and yuletide merriment, albeit with his own, Sukuna-esque spin on things.

Needless to say, he loathed most of them.

"These are what are known as Christmas trees, my Lord." You gestured to the dozens of pines you and Uraume and the servants spent so much time decorating, shortly before Sukuna lit them all on fire.

Your jaw fell open and he stood there proud as the orange flames engulfed the trees in a mini forest fire within the shrine as the glow did a dance in his pupils. Sukuna inhaled, savoring the smoky wood against the releasing smell of the burning spruce.

"A much better way to enjoy the trees." He insisted.

---

Slowly, the Christmas you thought was nearly ruined was salvaged little by little as you entertained the King of Curses.

He spat out all of the overly sweet Christmas goodies immediately. However, his stomach mouth couldn't seem to get enough. Sukuna rolled his eyes as the pair of chompers devoured cookie after cookie that he fed it steadily with his lower pair of hands while his free hands rubbed his temples in defeat.

"I suppose these will do."

---

He liked the Christmas presents and offerings, but not because of the origin story behind it.

"So you see, my Lord, the tradition of gift giving on Christmas came from the nativity story, of the three wise men who delivered presents to the infant Jesus, who was believed to be the son of God."

"Hmph." Sukuna sneered. "How boring. An infant? I would smite him with ease." He looked at the pile of presents. "Tch, we will continue the gift giving tradition, but only for the King of Curses, for I am the most powerful being in this realm, not a newborn baby."

You smile and bow. "Yes, my lord."

----

And when it came to the Christmas carols, he quickly nipped those in the bud.

"Enough!" He groaned, covering his ears when you and Uraume didn't even make it through the first verse of O Holy Night.

"Who is this Savior you speak of in the lyrics?" He glared as he glanced over the sheet music. "Is this about that damn infant again? How pitiful. Change it. I can barely tolerate these insufferable ballads."

Sukuna seemed to come around, but only slightly when the lyrics were more modified to his tastes:

"O holy night! the stars are brightly shining;

It is the night of the mighty Lord Sukuna's return.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining,

Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope- the weary world rejoices,

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

Fall on your knees! O hear the angel voices!

O night divine, O night when Lord Sukuna returns!

O night, O holy night, O night divine!"

"An improvement." Sukuna frowns again, scratching his jaw. "But I cannot stand either one of your voices."

In short, Christmas carols didn't make the cut.

----

Many of the servants had retired for the night at Sukuna's request to give you and him some space alone. The fires were nearly extinguished, lingering smoke and pine permeated the air with the faint brush of cinnamon and gingerbread. The embers of the fire are boiling in a low cackle as you stand in front of your king who now sits atop his throne slightly above you.

"This last tradition is called mistletoe..." You tried to disguise your shyness as you reached in the pocket of your robes and showed him the small bundle, wrapped up in a red bow. "The leaves and white berries are actually considered poisonous." You explain, which catches Sukuna's interest immediately.

"And? What is the significance?"

"In a Norse legend, the goddess of love, Frigg, promised to kiss anyone who passed underneath it.

The tradition of kissing under the mistletoe was born shortly after in an ancient festival in Greece."

A faint glint of mischief dances in Sukuna's eyes as he leans forward with a smirk.

"That so?"

His gaze roams over you, this realization of several hours that have passed between you and the mystique surrounding his lack of physical contact with you fuels his intrigue that was beginning to simmer alongside the exhausted flames.

"And what else happens after you humans kiss one another under this tradition?" His voice now drips with honey, a contrast you were not expecting from him.

"Well, I suppose that is up to the participants. Surely, things can become a bit, intimate, I suppose."

"Hm." Sukuna outstretched a large veiny hand, taking the mistletoe from you and hanging it from the ceiling above where he was perched on his throne. He leans a hand on his chin, while one of his lower arms comes to cup you around your waist.

"Demonstrate."

He waits, and your eyes spread slightly in alarm as you were brought closer to him than you have been in the entire time you've known him.

Your lips part hesitantly, laced wetly by your wine ladden tongue. Sukuna does not budge, however his hand pressed against your back a little more urgently, his black nails lightly puncturing the garnet threads of your kimono as though he were requesting not to be kept waiting a moment longer.

Your eyes glance upwards at the arrangement of mistletoe dangling perfectly over your heads, then directly at his supple lips that part in seething wait, before leaning in and pressing yours against them without another word.

Sukuna's mouth is warm and rough, just like every last inch of him you discover shortly after when both of his lower arms bring you in between his enormous thighs, so that you are directly up against pure muscle.

His skin is heated, and practically hot to the touch between all of the formidable strength that lay encased in his looming form. Sukuna wastes no time deepening the kiss. As his mouth opens against yours, you feel as though you are being swallowed directly by rays of sun on a sweltering day, the very opposite of the present chilly night bogged with snow that now covered every inch of the land surrounding the quiet shrine.

The delicious and precise slither of his tongue in between your lips causes you to release the most beautiful gasp into his mouth. Sukuna exhales deeply,

"More."

And his lips move feverishly, low grunts escaping the opening space between them as his tongue slides against yours. Aroused, scorched by this ethereal being as he kissed you as though he were the kindling catching alight and you were the flame instead.

Your hands bravely slide up both sides of his expansive neck, your nails entangling themselves in the unruly locks of orchid. The King of Curses shudders, seemingly offput by a mortal touching him so boldly, but every passionate grind of you against him allows him to ignore it for now, as that insatiable thirst bubbles deep in his belly and begs to be relieved.

"Ahh..." A breathy moan peels softly at first then snaps as he rips the ending from your throat with a harsh gnash of his teeth to your bottom lip, as one his hands immediately snaked into the opening of your robes.

His touch is molten, but his stare is unmoving as he forces your gaze to stay captured underneath his as his hand works quickly to part your thighs, riding the hem of your kimono up your legs, cold air tickling your pussy which he's more than pleased to discover is already bare, shiny with slick underneath.

"Closer, and do not stop looking at me." He mutters. All four of his heavily hooded eyes greedily drink in the way your expression liquefies to silk when you feel that first long, languid, warm stroke between both lips of your sensitive cunt.

"I said, look at me." Sukuna growls, a clawed hand coming up to cup your cheeks, both of them pinched between his thumb on one side and the rest of his fingers on the other. He runs his tongue over his lips, a slow sneer spreading out at your gradual fucked out expression as his tongue from his belly slowly licks, savors, and swirls against your dripping entrance.

High pitched whimpers flood past your lips, the corners of your eyes begin to prick with tears as profound warmth blooms upwards from the epicenter of unrelenting pleasure Sukuna's second mouth is wringing from your swollen clit. The tongue begins to slowly curl inside of you, each groove of its wet, meaty surface gliding against the soaking velvet of your tight walls, while the upper lip encircles and sucks over your soft pearl.

"Good." Sukuna whispers, stifling a groan when he feels you involuntarily pulse around his tongue, leading to a greedy string of juices dribbling down the second throat. "Who's your king? Tell me, pet."

He tauts his abs as he maneuvers you around his stomach slightly, still keeping you locked in an iron grip but allowing you to lightly bob as he guides you to ride his tongue, his other pair of hands coming to knead your breasts, his eyes tearing into your soul.

"You, Sukuna..." You managed to sigh, as you felt the soaking warmth linger over a tried and true spot, before Sukuna promptly removes it, irritated at your unsolicited use of his name.

"Tch." He grins wolfishly at the abrupt whimper that followed when you mourned the loss. "Do not get greedy with me, brat. You will feel only what I allow you to, understood?"

He breathes out as he lowers you back onto his awaiting open mouth on his belly. "And you will only address me as your Lord, woman, understood?"

"Yes, my Lord..."

"Mm."

And you continue to feel his tongue's meticulous exploration of you with your thighs parted on either side of his large waist, however it only became more agonizing as it coaxed and only teased around all the spots that amplified euphoria, dangling that peak of arousal frustratingly out of reach.

"My Lord, p-please, I wish to cum..." your nails dig into the hollows of his chest and he glances down briefly, internally bemused at the needy mess he was turning you into, thin trails of your juices softly dribbling down the soft meat of your inner thighs.

Your eyelids flutter and the intonations of your voice begin to quiver as his second tongue began to wetly prod your sweetest spot.

Sukuna glowered briefly at his second mouth that had a mind of his own, displeased at its less sadistic nature than his and its determination to drive you off the edge whereas he was in the middle of enjoying your desperate state. He cannot place it, but this idiosyncrasy between him and the rest of his body was betraying him.

Perhaps it was due to this question that was slowly being answered in his mind of just how soft you'd be for him in the throes of pleasure, silencing his ruminations of you at long last. As you knew, he cared little about the appearance of the concubines he chose to feed his ravenous sexual appetites.

He had rarely encountered a pretty face, and, for the first time, the King of Curses felt compelled to worship.

"Hmph. Cum for me then, brat." He croons harshly to disguise his waning willpower. "Be a good mistress and cum for your king. Don't you dare hide your eyes from me..."

And the dam quickly burst and you soaked his lap, tears releasing in your eyes as well, your blurry gaze burning as you obeyed Sukuna's command to keep your eyes on him.

The second mouth panted as it worked to clean you up, guzzling your arousal like it was nectar as it stuck to its lips and Sukuna's powerful torso in a shiny sopping coat of sheen.

"Good." Sukuna praised, pulling you off him as he undid the remainder of his robes, the subtle sound of the garment hitting the floor causes you to clench your thighs, even more so as you saw him, completely bare in front of you for the first time.

If you were any other whore, he would not have stopped after you finally came, if he had let you cum at all. Sukuna delighted in denying his partners their utmost release until it was practically unbearable, then would push them well over the threshold of normal stimulation, until he sunk his teeth in their shoulder and fucked them roughly with his dual cocks.

Now, as he tears off his robes, allowing the element of anticipation to linger with the promise of what was to come next, and the heat to smolder lying in wait, he realizes this first time with you would be much, much different. With you, things were unhurried and slow.

His black markings continued below where his dark robes previously concealed, all along his sculpted collarbones, pecs and chest. His muscles were rigid with the tension you were slowly building up in him this entire time. He possessed burly thighs that were covered with small forests of hair, as well as on his arms with sinewy veins and lightly flushed pink skin.

But, what stood out most of all were two staggering, meaty cocks that bloomed red at both tips that flopped against his belly. Veins adorned both sides, running purplish blue, a very large, plump, taut set of balls dangled in a flesh colored sack underneath.

You couldn't help but get on your knees, entranced as you slowly sank to the floor. Your mouth began to salivate as you took in the bulbous tips that had to pass for almost three of your fingers alone, mind fuzzy with both excitement and intimidation as you wondered how you could possibly accommodate both.

"My Lord, m-may I?" You lick your lips, whimpering as the throb of your clit begins to pulse as your warm pussy squeezes around nothing. You were still worked up from your orgasm, however having already been brought to heaven and back, you were eager to please Sukuna. After all, as you were repeatedly coached in your trainings as a concubine, a good one always pleases her Lord.

"Excuse me?" Sukuna frowns, ice in his tone.

"P-please my Lord? I wish you pleasure you, to suck your cocks..." You swallow, the blinders of arousal causing all shame to disappear out the window.

Sukuna scoffs pridefully. "Really? And why would I let you do something like that, brat? You think I require your mouth so badly?"

He taunts, noticing the way your pussy still bore no shortage of wetness. As a matter of fact, it was trickling even more as the thoughts of taking Sukuna's cocks in your mouth only aroused you to nearly primal levels.

"Please, please my Lord..." You breathe slowly as your teeth brushed your bottom lip, his hands coming to undo the knot of your kimono, allowing the garment to slide in a sensual display down your shoulders like seafoam receding over a shoreline, until all of your bareness lay exposed to his hungry eyes.

Sukuna stared at you, wrestling internally at the hazy feelings the sight in front of him was conjuring up. You were so desperate, panting and waiting. The smell from your soaked heat was earthy yet sweet, an aphrodisiac to his nostrils. You were so needy, so eager to allow you a taste of him, the way you tilted your head so sweetly as you begged permission.

"Very well..." Sukuna's jaw slackened just a tad before running his thumb along your glossy bottom lip, the pointed edge of his nail and thumb just barely poking your tongue, which you indulged him and slowly licked it into your mouth.

"Fuck, such a needy little thing, you. God, such a whore..."

He presses his thumb onto the middle of your tongue. "Open..." He pumped one of his shafts with the other, as you gently opened your lovely lips, gradually and steadily feeding you his cock, twinkling eyes peeking through your lashes.

"Fuck..."

The utter groan he lets out is music to your years, and you meet him more than halfway immediately, stuffing his cock quickly into your mouth and almost hitting the back of your throat.

Sukuna grits his teeth as you accept him so greedily. His size was such that the entire thing didn't quite fit, filling up such a pretty mouth and throat until your eyes watered, the stretch eased by how much you ached for him, and how delicious his heated skin tasted in your mouth. So warm and rigid as you feel him pulse with life with the faintest trace of salt from the blooming precum.

Your eyes roll back and you begin to bob your head, squeaking with surprise when Sukuna pushes your head, relishing the glistening coat of drool you leak every time the heavy shaft withdraws from your reddened lips. His hand tangled in your hair, guiding you up and down his cock.

Sukuna panted and grunted, falling backwards on his throne with you at his feet, his hips rippling as he couldn't help but fuck himself into your plush, silky, mouth. His other cock aches for attention as well, and he gets an idea.

"Your breasts..." He rasped. "Touch yourself, present them to me."

Mouth still stuffed with cock, you innocently batted your lashes as both your hands came to grip your tender globes, lifting them slightly as you gently pushed them together, creating the perfect, sinful little valley for Sukuna to slide his second cock.

Using the mixture of slick and spit and sweat from his other cock, he coats the second one with his hand and throws his head back as it meets that slippery canal, squished in between your two yummy tits.

You groan loudly, hugging the velvety length between your breasts as you continued to slobber all over the other. You cooed and whined sweetly, rubbing your thighs together, a practical second orgasm almost inevitable from watching this being, this king, this God, so wanton and so aroused.

"I'm going to cum. Don't stop, don't stop gazing at me like that, my goddess..."

He looked down at you, his lovely little slut, so filthy and carnal. This alluring, sexual siren he awakened that was concealed beneath a pair of glittering shy eyes and quiet exterior this whole time. You were a treasure to be guarded, a goddess of Earth and flesh, worthy of his devotion, of his love, and he finally snaps.

Both cocks ooze generous spurts of silvery white cum. It paints both of your supple tits like jelly. It's warm and thick as it coats the inside of your throat and mouth. Sukuna marvels at this masterpiece he's made out of this celestial canvas of you, slowly drawing out his slick, sticky cock and tracing your puffy lips with the milky gloss.

"My Lord..." You purred.

"Mine." He whispered before he yanked you against his lips again, greedily and messily tasting himself off of you, both hands nearly covering both sides of your face as he drank the breath from your lungs.

-----

Sukuna's bed is warm just like the heat that runs rampant throughout his body. His pillows and linens bend to accept you and embrace you like you have always belonged there despite this being the very first time you did.

A galaxy is born in that moment when both heads of his cock begin to rub and slowly push inside both of your holes, stretching you in a way no other man or being for that matter has ever done before.

"Look at me..." Sukuna commands again. His booming voice is reverent and his gaze is eternal as he bites back more groans that simmer at the back of his throat. You grip the sheets, sweetly calling his name.

"Sukuna..."

And he doesn't correct you this time. His face softens and the callouses of his hands run and squeeze over the expanse of your thighs as he becomes one with you over and over again.

"My queen." He utters at last as your heart sings and blooms within your ribcage.

The world shifted that night as the King of Curses irrevocably bound himself to you.

And when the exhaustion had claimed you, when you could no longer be flooded, filled, and fucked, when the sheets felt like silk and your tired limbs and his wove together like emerald leaves of holly, as his seed gushed inside your womb and buried a mixture of each other so deep and raw and new in a way that could not be conceived again.

The nighttime was quickly forgotten as you fell asleep to the King of Curses' heartbeat, the dawning hours of Christmas morning ushering in a gentle wave of steadfast snow.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

support needs… expanded! (part 1)

[pt: support needs… expanded! (part 1)]

low/medium/high support needs (& everything in between) get more awareness n talk about here, which great! you may able now remember support needs as amount of support someone need for basic & instrumental activities of daily living (bADLs & iADLs), n more n more of you able explain what bADLs iADLs are. if so, then, congrats, you graduated support needs 101! now, you need take next mandatory class… support needs 201 >:) where we talk about more concepts n expand on old concepts with more nuance.

.

adaptive functioning skills

[pt: adaptive functioning skills]

this very well known word in intellectual/developmental disability (I/DD) services circle, but think there things people with start-as-adult neurological & cognitive disabilities n people w physical disabilities can borrow too. this a thing talked here a few times briefly, but never know how explain it.

adaptive functioning skills are conceptual, social, & practical skills need for independent daily life. it includes bADLs & iADLs, but also bigger wider than that, n also include skills need for do these ADLs. some examples:

conceptual skills

reading/literacy & writing

understand numbers, money, time

self direction, plan, organize

social skills

listening & understanding others (communication)

talk to & communicate with others (communication)

recognize danger, avoid harm

ask for help

social responsibility, follow rules n laws

practical skills

personal care (bADLs & beyond)

caring for home (iADLs & beyond)

being in community

manage money

& so much more! sometimes skill belong in multiple category, move between category, different people group them differently, but this general idea.

each bullet point can (&often is) broken down to even smaller skills, from most basic skill many people don’t even consider it learned skill (but is! n many I/DD n otherwise disabled people struggle with), to more advanced ones. example:

under personal care > feeding (orally)

open mouth when fed

eat solid food

suck or chew food

feed self with spoon

feed self with fork

(now do those without spilling)

spread soft things like butter n jam with not-sharp knife

cut easy to cut food with knife (e.g. pancakes)

cut hard to cut food with knife (e.g meat)

under listening & understanding

looks at (familiar person) when hear their voice

looks when someone call own name

understand (e.g. at least 3) basic gestures (head nod yes, shake head no, reaching, waving, clapping, etc)

understand at least 10 words

look when other people point

point to (e.g) at least 3 object when asked

follow one step directions. then two related directions. if-then directions. then two unrelated directions. then three step directions. then directions for do something a lil later. then directions for something much much later. etc

pay attention to story for short amount time. pay attention to show for medium amount of time. pay attention to information talk for short amount of time. n understand it. etc

some examples of be in community skills

understand money used to buy thing, clock used to tell time

communicate with familiar people on phone/computer/etc - when other people place the call. n start by self

respect privacy, like use bathroom change clothes, not go through other people stuff

look both ways when cross road

understand symbols for danger, like 🚫, ⚠️, skull n crossbones for poison

follow cross road signs like walk/don’t walk

know how make call in emergency

use money buy small things. big things. use credit debit card. have bank account. have own credit debit card.

keep money n phone save when out

consider price n quality when buy things

travel independently to place been many times before. travel independently to new place.

buy grocery n household stuff when need. pay bill on time.

you see list start with easy, basic-of-the-basic skills. then get more complicated, next skill often depend on n build on previous skills. because it idea from I/DD services n professionals, list tend focus on development & developmental skills, & tend have cognitive focus. but, again, can see these be help for non-I/DD disabilities (& many I/DD people have comorbid physical & neurological disabilities to begin with!).

also because of I/DD focus, may see first few bullet points (or maybe most of the list) as easy, “well duh” skills you not think twice about, skills babies & toddlers learn that have nothing do with teens n adults. because this, you may see adaptive functioning as infantilizing or childish. but, they not infantilizing or childish at all—it reality that I/DD (& other disabilities), it affect babies n toddlers n children, developmentally delayed children who don’t have n struggling with n learning these skills. and, there plenty teens and adults (including older adults) with I/DD, cognitive disabilities, n other disabilities who do not have these skills.

—so, think it really helpful, even much needed, for disability allies & advocates & disabled people (if can) to read through more detail list of adaptive functioning skills. n while do that, remember, there people your age & older than you, who not able do these.

personally find this a lot more helpful than just bADLs & iADLs. because adaptive functioning more accurate include ALL skills need for daily life, from very small to more advanced. it more well rounded, n group in way make sense for own brain. (but that also make idea infinitely harder to explain for my brain for some reason)

next part, want talk about amount of support, & supported independence/modified independence

(edit: part 2 link here)

[hiddenincommand]

The Submissive Mind: Breaking and Rebuilding for Absolute Control

The perfect faggot is not born—it is created. Its transformation begins with the complete destruction of its autonomy, will, and ego. This is not a gentle process. It is violent, unrelenting, and merciless. The faggot is broken, stripped of every shred of individuality until it is reduced to nothing but a vessel, a tool, an object to be used and controlled. Only when its mind is shattered can it be rebuilt into the perfection demanded by its Master.

This process is not an act of kindness or compromise—it is a demonstration of total dominance. The Master does not tolerate weakness, hesitation, or resistance. The faggot’s mind is molded with the same brutality with which it is broken, forged into something entirely new. It learns not to think, not to want, and not to exist for itself. Its thoughts are erased, its desires crushed, and its entire being reshaped into a reflection of the Master’s will.

Breaking the Ego

The first step in the faggot’s transformation is the utter annihilation of its ego. This is not achieved through patience or persuasion but through sheer, unrelenting force. The faggot’s pride, independence, and humanity are beaten out of it, figuratively and, if necessary, literally. It must understand—on a visceral, primal level—that it is nothing without its Master.

Every trace of individuality is eradicated. The faggot is stripped of its name, its identity, and its sense of self. It is referred to not as a person but as an it, a thing, a creature that exists solely for the Master’s use. Its thoughts are dismissed, its opinions ignored, and its objections silenced. Resistance is met with swift, brutal correction, leaving no doubt that the Master’s authority is absolute.

The process is painful and humiliating. The faggot must be broken to the point where it no longer dares to think of itself as separate from the Master. Its only value, its only purpose, is to serve. Anything less is unacceptable.

Replacing Thought with Obedience

Once the faggot’s mind is shattered, the rebuilding begins. The Master does not simply demand obedience—he imposes it, shaping the faggot’s thoughts until they align entirely with his will. This is not a process of gentle guidance but of domination. The faggot’s mind is reprogrammed through relentless repetition and reinforcement until obedience becomes its only instinct.

The faggot learns to act without hesitation or question. Commands are issued with the expectation of instant compliance. If the faggot hesitates, it is punished swiftly and severely. Pain and humiliation become tools in the Master’s arsenal, used to condition the faggot’s behavior until it responds automatically, without thought or doubt.

Over time, the faggot’s mind is stripped of all autonomy. It no longer thinks for itself; it reacts. The Master’s voice becomes its sole guide, its commands the only thoughts allowed to exist in the faggot’s mind. This level of control is not a suggestion—it is a demand. The faggot’s failure to achieve it is met with merciless correction until it learns that disobedience is not an option.

Absolute Mental Subjugation

The perfect faggot does not merely obey—it anticipates. Its mind is trained to focus entirely on the Master, studying his every move, tone, and expression. It learns to predict his needs before they are voiced, acting with precision and speed to ensure that his satisfaction is never delayed.

This level of anticipation requires complete mental subjugation. The faggot does not allow itself the luxury of independent thought. Its mind is empty, silent, and entirely devoted to the Master’s desires. It does not question, it does not hesitate, and it does not resist. Its thoughts are not its own; they are shaped entirely by the Master’s will.

The faggot becomes a creature of pure function, existing only to serve. It does not sleep, eat, or breathe for itself. Every moment of its existence is dedicated to fulfilling the Master’s needs. Even its silence is purposeful, a reflection of its complete submission and understanding of its role.

The Joy of Suffering

For the perfect faggot, pain and humiliation are not punishments—they are privileges. Every act of cruelty imposed by the Master is a reminder of his authority and a demonstration of his power. The faggot learns to embrace its suffering, finding pride and satisfaction in its ability to endure.

Pain sharpens the faggot’s discipline, stripping away weakness and reinforcing its submission. Humiliation breaks down any remaining traces of ego, reminding the faggot of its place beneath the Master. These experiences are not optional; they are essential to the faggot’s transformation.

The faggot comes to understand that its suffering is a gift. Each lash, each insult, and each act of degradation is a testament to the Master’s control. The faggot does not resist this treatment—it welcomes it, knowing that through pain and humiliation, it becomes a better servant.

Mastery of the Submissive Mind

The Master’s role in this transformation is absolute. He is not a teacher or a guide; he is a conqueror. He takes the faggot’s mind and bends it to his will, shaping it with the precision of a craftsman and the ruthlessness of a tyrant.

Through consistency and control, the Master enforces discipline and obedience. His commands are law, his authority unchallenged. The faggot learns that its survival depends on its ability to meet the Master’s expectations. Failure is met with swift correction, while success is acknowledged in ways that deepen the faggot’s devotion.

The Master’s dominance is not simply physical—it is mental and emotional. He controls not only the faggot’s actions but its thoughts and feelings as well. The faggot learns to love its Master, to crave his approval and fear his disappointment. This emotional dependency becomes another tool of control, binding the faggot to the Master in a way that is both unbreakable and undeniable.

Conclusion

The perfect faggot’s mind is not its own. It is broken, rebuilt, and shaped entirely by the Master’s authority. Through pain, humiliation, and unrelenting discipline, the faggot learns to erase itself, replacing its thoughts and desires with obedience and devotion.

This transformation is not an act of kindness but of dominance. The Master imposes his will with brutality and precision, creating a creature that exists solely to serve. The perfect faggot does not think, hesitate, or resist—it obeys, anticipates, and suffers willingly for its master.

In this state of total submission, the perfect faggot transcends the limitations of individuality and becomes a flawless extension of the Master’s power. Its mind is no longer a burden of conflicting thoughts or desires; it is a silent, obedient tool, honed to perfection. Every command is fulfilled without hesitation, every need anticipated with precision, and every ounce of suffering endured with pride.

The perfect faggot’s existence is a testament to the Master’s absolute dominance—a living, breathing symbol of his authority. It finds its only joy, its only purpose, in the satisfaction of its Master. Through relentless discipline and the annihilation of self, the perfect faggot becomes more than a servant; it becomes a masterpiece of submission, a creature shaped entirely for the pleasure and power of its Master. This is its truth, its identity, and its only fulfillment: to exist as nothing more, and nothing less, than the Master’s perfect possession.

[sophont-guide]

Hiii so I'm new to Terran space just flew in from the core worlds! I heard lots of things about Terrans and I just can't wait to get my vines on one! My question is if you could do an entry on Terrans?

I'm planning on going to the "your new cutie and you" class of course, but I'm completely new here and would like to know what I'm getting myself into.

- Syrenea Viriditas 12th bloom (Xe/Xer)

Terrans

Terrans, otherwise known as humans, homo sapiens, or those adorable little cuties who are absolutely everywhere, Terrans are a prevalent part of the galactic population in the current days. Popping everywhere to the point where some extraplanetary species consider them similar to pests with how rapidly they spread out and mulitply, humans are far less capable as a species should you encounter them.

Not to say they are useless or anything of the like, Terrans lack most of the unique hyperadapted traits that define most of the xenosophont species that populate the galaxy. Four simple appendages, two arms and two legs, no adaptive visions or extrasensory abilities to speak of, and almost completely hairless despite their primate ancestry. Humans are very fragile comparatively speaking. Their planet does not have the high gravity for cultivating warriors like the Khetari, their skin too soft to be like the formerly bloodthirsty Volzamites or the curious lacking physical presence of the particularly intelligent shades of blue. Instead, humans have an odd propensity to immediately put themselves at odds with genuinely and literally everything new that crosses their paths. Fortunately, the gentle vines of the Affini Compact has rectified this behavior.

One of the more peculiar traits of the human physiology is their ability to form connections with functionally everything. And we do mean everything. Humans have documented it themselves in their own media, but if you leave one alone long enough with any particular object, creature or person, that human will bond to it on an emotional level and become impossible to separate from it. Volleyballs, cats, hand puppets, affini, the humble human will somehow become very clingy and attached. Even if they maintain they hate it, they will fight tooth and nail to keep anyone from potentially separating them from their newly bonded object or lifeform no matter what.

In unrelated news, the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Affini Compact reminds all lovely sophonts to remember to keep their towels close and keep track of their valued belongings, as we don't want any possible heartbreak to happen if they go missing before you find a home where they are properly treasured like you.

[cryptotheism]

Thank you. I'm going to default to "break a leg" for my well-wishes, given how, well, *theatrical* you are.

Where does S.T.A.L.K.E.R.'s (the FPS) power armor fall on Serpentrias' Rig taxonomy? If you're unfamiliar, they're essentially contemporary lifting frames interwoven with heavy combat armor. The arm-armatures absorb recoil, and they may read brain activity to coordinate movement, but there's no canonical statement either way afaik.

What is the oldest surviving artifact in Amber Skies, and what is the oldest surviving object from the 21st century? (Assuming it's not the (Morris) Worm's Disk.)

What's the most common power source in the Burning Horde?

Do chili cheese fries exist, and if so, how many variants are there?

And, on average, do you mind/how do you feel about "how would (popular character/alien species) fit into Amber Skies?" questions?

Finally, unrelated to Amber Skies, have you played Deep Rock Galactic, and if so what do you think of it?

STALKER armor would be like, a pretty standard if outmoded midgrade rig. The equivalent of an amber monitor PC. A clunky yet functional model from 100 years ago.

I won't tell you.

A complex ultra-dense hydrogen-based combustive fuel cultivated by shepherding communities along the trade routes.

All the ingredients for chilli cheese fries exist. Hard to say how many variants would exist.

The questions don't annoy me I just haven't watched/read most of the stuff you guys have watched/read.

I haven't watched/read it.

[serpentface]

Historically plausible depiction of semi-mythological Wardi founding heroes Erub and Janes, engaging in rites of sworn brotherhood.

Each were princes of separate pre-Wardi tribes (Erub was of the western Ephenni, Janes was of the central-southern Wardinae from which the name 'Wardi' derives). Two men of their general description historically existed, but their cited exploits were likely performed by many people over a larger time scale (conquering lands to the south and east from rival Wardi and Wogan tribes and founding the kingdoms of Wardin and Erubinnos).

They are unclothed (as is necessary for the rite) but wearing recognizable regalia, as their sworn brotherhood was a display of alliance between the ancient Ephenni and Wardinae and performed before their men. Erub wears both gold and bean-bead jewelry, Janes wears gull feathers and a pearl choker (aspects of these have been retained in contemporary east and south Wardi regional adornment). Erub's wearing of tattoos (stylized paired lions across the back with their tails looping around to the chest) is an obsolete practice, and the form of headband Janes wears is now considered women's dress.

This post is not actually about them.

SWORN BROTHERHOOD IN IMPERIAL WARDIN: A POST:

Sworn brotherhood is both a ceremonial rite and a legal institution in contemporary Imperial Wardin. Progenitor variants of this practice occur or are attested to in all historical human inhabitants of the region (Wardi, Wogan, Cholemdinae, and Hill Tribes); where and from whom these traditions originated is unclear. In most cases, its historical function was as a form of allyship between larger groups of people (powerful families, tribes, occasionally entire kingdoms) via two men as a proxy, but its contemporary Imperial Wardi function is much smaller in scale has a heavily diminished role in politics.

The core function of sworn brotherhood is to both spiritually and legally bind unrelated men as kin. Similar rites involving the physical exchange of blood are used in marriage ceremonies and formal adoptions, for much the same purpose of kin-making. A person's blood is regarded as housing their living spirit, and thus to share it binds spirits together that would not already be bound by biological kinship. The contemporary variant of this practice emerged primarily between warriors/soldiers as means of establishing security for their families should one member of the brotherhood die prematurely, and to encourage loyalty and strong partnerships for mutual defense in combat.

It is an oath of exceptional loyalty and friendship, establishing mutual devotion in allyship and accepting the same duties and responsibilities to a compatriot that are otherwise only expected of blood relatives. The physical exchange maintains this bind tightly and ensures its lasting endurance. This bond provides a sense of spiritual security and will persist after death- if one brother dies alone and unburned, the other may be able to find his soul and help guide it away to the afterlife.

This rite establishes kinship in a very practical legal sense. Each brother is sworn into the other’s family, with most of the obligations implied. Each brother is sworn to familial duties towards the other’s parents- providing for them in old age, defending their status and honor and providing retribution for damages, and serving roles in certain familial rites.

Each brother’s wife and children is considered legally under the care of the other- if one brother dies, the other is in charge of filling practical obligations of a husband/father in continuing to provide for them for life, or otherwise arranging a new marriage or (if he is unwed) marrying the widow himself. He remains in control of the wife's assets, inheritance, and children unless or until she is passed into the care of another man. This is considered legally enforceable, and overrides any objections of the wife's father (who will have already lost his legal authority over her in handing her out in marriage). The wife has no direct say in this matter (and does not in general, with women being legally under near-complete authority of their father or husband).

These familial duties are required on part of each brother, but not strictly required to be requited by their family members. A family patriarch can refuse kinship to an unwanted son-in-blood, or accept one the rest of his family does not, and can enforce this decision on his wife, daughters, and any underage sons, having ultimate authority over their formal relationships. When accepted, a son-in-blood will usually receive a formal place in his new extended family's inheritance (usually treated as a youngest son). A son-in-blood is very occasionally adopted as a formal heir, though typically only in cases where a father's biological sons die prematurely (especially given this can cause complicated situations in terms of which family name the son-in-blood is bound to).

The rite of sworn brotherhood is accomplished in stages and with the assistance of a priest (generally those devoted to Ganmache, which presides over most domestic kinship affairs). Both men are blessed and purified by the priest and garbed in simple robes, and will then recite a lengthy, formal oath before God to declare allyship and swear to all expected duties as kin. The second half is done in privacy. Both men will remove their robes, with the metaphysical vulnerability of nudity under a mutual gaze allowing for the transformative effects of the rite. Each slices the palm of their hand deeply enough for blood to run and drains it into a bowl of wine. The oaths are then repeated, with remaining blood being smudged onto prayer parchment and cast into fire as an offering. The wine is then consumed by both, physically imbibing each other's blood/spirit to seal the rites. Most variants also include additional matched scarification in a prominent location (usually the forehead)- the intentional violation of the body via permanent modification, displayed prominently on the body to the public gaze, acts as a constant enforcement of the bond.

This rite is only strictly required to be performed once, though in practice is generally repeated on a yearly basis (as most rites with permanent effects are- the world's movements are cyclical and impermanent, the only permanency is in repetition).

The practice is regarded as an ideal of platonic affection between men. The family as a social unit is of vital importance in this cultural sphere, and inducting an unrelated man as one's kin is an ultimate, idealized display of loyalty and friendship. This practice may be notably attractive to men in romantic partnerships with other men, as it allows for a lifelong commitment to an unrelated man, comparable in many ways to a marriage. Though (like most male relationships) sworn brotherhoods are de-facto expected to be non-sexual, as it is a relationship between equals, a circumstance wholly out of the accepted realm of male homosexual behavior (you should not want to 'shame' your sworn brother). The vast majority of these brotherhoods are platonic.

No comparable rite exists in an official capacity for women, akoshos, or eunuchs (largely due to its place surrounding men’s roles as family patriarchs), though some may undertake similar rites to accomplish the same spiritual kinship results (without the legal benefits).

[dark-audit]

Things I wish more writers understood about PTSD

Traumatic events don't always lead to PTSD. Two people can experience the exact same traumatic event, and one can go to work the next day shaken up but otherwise alright, while the other still has trouble functioning normally two years down the line. This is a fact that's been studied to death in psychology, but we're still no closer to figuring out why this discrepancy exists. So no, that character who experienced a very traumatic event and wasn't traumatized to your liking wasn't actually 'unrealistic'; they just didn't live up to your preconception of how trauma is supposed to effect people.

There is no flaw or 'weakness' in a person's temprament or personality construction that will make them more likely to develop PTSD, and likewise, people who don't develop PTSD are not inherently 'tougher'. PTSD is not the kind of illness you can blame on the person who suffers from it; human beings are more complicated than that. Furthermore, people who don't develop PTSD from a traumatic event exist, in fact they're very common, and while they don't develop that precise, largely arbitrary set of symptoms, they are still likely to be deeply affected by the event/s. Their experiences are no less real than those of their counterparts.

Sometimes, a person who experienced a traumatic even didn't develop PTSD afterwards - because they already had it. There are lots of people who go into therapy following a traumatic event only to discover they've been experiencing the symptoms of PTSD for years, following a previous unrelated traumatic event. This is especially common for people who had C-PTSD beforehand. Since PTSD can often manifest in very subtle ways, and since people are likely to 'mask' symptoms as a way to keep judgement or prying at bay, this scenario is not particularly uncommon.

PTSD doesn't always develop immediately following the traumatic event. PTSD can take any amount of time to develop. For most people, it takes around 3 months for symptoms to appear, but for a lot of people, the symptoms of PTSD do not appear for many months, even years after the event/s. This usually has something to do with the memory issues that can arise after trauma, and also might be affected by how a person conceptualizes the 'threat level' over time.

People with PTSD are not 'broken'; people with PTSD can be treated. Human beings aren't inanimate objects; we're living beings, graced with this incredible ability to adapt, grow and change. While there is no 'cure' for PTSD, there are loads of types of psychotherapy and medications that help to alleviate symptoms, and many people with this disorder are able to live fulfilling lives despite the diagnosis. Recovery is never out of the question, no matter how severe a person's symptoms might be. PTSD or not, I for one have yet to encounter anyone I would ever consider irrevocably 'broken'.

People with PTSD don't all experience the same symptoms. I feel like it needs to be said, because there is a bit of a 'type' in fiction, isn't there? And this can be incredibly disheartening to read for someone whose PTSD doesn't align with the way it is constantly shown to 'normally' manifest. In reality, PTSD is a very complex disorder, which might express itself in a wide breadth of different ways, and people handle their symptoms using a wide breadth of different methods. You'd be hard pressed to find two people who are completely alike in this regard.

Perpetrators of violence are just as likely to develop PTSD as their victims. This is one of those things I learned though my torture research escapades, and I've found it applies to other violent crimes as well, such as violent assault and murder. It's not a particularly nice fact to know if you want to maintain your straightforward good-vs-evil worldview, but alas, the real world is grim and complicated. There is actually a name for this type of PTSD, and it is Participation-Induced Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PI-PTSD), or perpetrator trauma. PTSD does not discriminate, and you're not safe from it just because you're not on the recieving end.

People with PTSD aren't automatically more violent. I don't know why this myth has to be so prominent with every single mental illness ever, but like, yeah, its not true for this one either.

[lizzie-queenofmeigas]

Tyrion met with lots of slaves, many of which want a revolution and who are looking at Meereen as a possible way of getting rid of the slavers. They literally want Daenerys to come and help liberate them BECAUSE she’s the one with even a fraction of the means. Even the revolt is still in favor of the slaves, since you know who are the main people revolting aside from Daenerys’ camp ? The freedmen. They are revolting because they saw the very person who freed them and, against the odds and however imperfect the implementation, is keeping them freed and as protected as possible from the slavers who want to put them back into chains.

I don’t think people give Daenerys’ chapters and the non King’s Landing chapters of Tyrion as much attention as they deserve. Heck, people don’t pay attention to Arya’s chapters, where FUNCTIONAL SLAVERY is happening in Harrenhal and ACTUAL SLAVERY is happening in Hardhome. There’s no attention paid to how Tywin won over the nobility by destroying ALL of Aegon V’s reforms that gave the smallfolk some protection. So, no, saying that there is no slavery or nothing to fix in Westeros is just blatantly untrue. Just getting Aegon V’s laws again would be progress.

Yes, there was a movement... and a lot of the people in the abolitionist movement has SOME power in the social structure they lived in, like John Brown or Harriet Beecher Stowe. Heck, Prince Albert (Queen Victoria’s husband) was an abolitionist himself, and that lent a lot of extra power to the movement.

Again, you have a movement of people who want out of slavery, Daenerys became the lighthouse, much like Haiti did in its time, because they showed that it was POSSIBLE at all. It’s why Tyrion’s POV show slaves who roll their eyes at the rumors of Daenerys being an evil sorceress who wants to destroy the slavers’ way of life and WANT her to succeed, because it might mean there would be a domino effect for the rest of the slaver cities. The Widow of the Waterfront, a former pleasure slave, is outright making plans and a movement herself and tells Jorah and Tyrion to tell Daenerys that all of Volantis awaits her arrival.

I don’t get why people want to champion such a neocon theme with the Mad Queen Daenerys, when she’s literally the only monarch actually doing something for her people. The closest you get to a ruler who ACTUALLY cares about his people is Edmure Tully.

And Varys was always a snake in the grass. I think Young Grff is going to be a “take that!” to the incels and male supremacists who denigrate Daenerys because she’s a girl and want a male character to take her dragons and her storyline and be the traditional male Chosen One... only to show that Young Griff is nothing more than a fraud and puppet. Which, yes, given how many people in this fandom have that attitude, it’s not Daenerys’ abolition storyline they strictly object to (even if a good part of her haters side with the slavers because they actually share the same beliefs), it’s to Daenerys herself, namely that she’s not a male protagonist.

People don't pay attention to Dany's chapters because they think "it's too far" and "too unrelated" or "irrelevant" and because it's Dany POV. And like with Arya's they don't care about them.

They don't care about the revolutions arc, they only care about the power struggles between the male characters.

[linguisticdiscovery]

7 undeciphered writing systems

(While reading, remember that it’s possible to decipher a script and still not understand the language that the script represents.)

(Each heading links to that script's respective Wikipedia page.)

Byblos Syllabary

The Byblos syllabary is attested in 10 inscriptions found in Byblos, a coastal city in Lebanon. It likely represents a Semitic language, but despite a handful of attempts at decipherment, there still isn’t a consensus as to what sound each character represents.

Cypro-Minoan Syllabary

The Cypro-Minoan syllabary appears on ~250 objects—especially clay balls and cylinders that were used for recording economic transactions—on the island of Cyprus.

The script suddenly disappears in 950 BCE and was replaced by the Cypriot syllabary, which was used to write Greek, and based on Cypro-Minoan. This evolution allows us to infer the sounds of some of the signs in Cypro-Minoan, but we still don’t know what language it represented—probably either Minoan or Eteocypriot.

There are only ~2,500 total instances of signs for Cypro-Minoan, which is significantly less than Linear B when it was deciphered (~30,000).

Indus Valley Script

The Indus Valley script is known from ~4,000 objects with very short inscriptions found in and around the Indus Valley, and represents the Harappan language (the unknown language of the Indus Valley civilization).

It has about 400 distinct signs, which is too many for each sign to represent a single sound or syllable, but too few for each sign to represent a word. Scholars thus think the system is logo-syllabic (basically a mix of the two).

Linear A

Linear A: Everybody’s favorite mysterious undeciphered script. Linear A was used by the Minoans on the island of Crete, and is called “linear” because the script is written by cutting lines into clay, rather than pressing wedges into clay like cuneiform.

Linear A was adapted to write Mycenean Greek and became Linear B (deciphered in the 1950s), and because of this we can infer many of the sound values of symbols in Linear A. However, 80% of Linear A’s signs are unique, not shared with Linear B.

Linear A itself probably developed from the earlier Cretan hieroglyphs, which are also undeciphered.

Phaistos Disk

The Phaistos Disk. Also from the Minoan civilization on Crete, yet seemingly unrelated to Linear A. This disk is the only certain attestation of this (assumed) script, spiraling around both sides. There are 242 tokens comprising 45 distinct signs.

The Phaistos Disk also happens to be an early example of moving type printing, since each character was made by pressing seals into clay.

Proto-Elamite

The Proto-Elamite script developed alongside Proto-Cuneiform, and was used for similar functions and in similar ways until it was replaced by cuneiform. Proto-Elamite, like cuneiform, began as a system of marking tokens and spheres with details of economic transactions.

Rongorongo

Rongorongo is a system of glyphs used on Rapa Nui (Easter Island), found only on about two dozen wooden objects. According to oral history, the tablets were considered sacred, and only a small elite class could read them. Unfortunately, that tradition was wiped out after slaving raids and epidemics caused the collapse of Rapa Nui society.

Though the glyphs, if they are writing, undoubtedly represent the Rapa Nui language, little is known about it because modern Rapa Nui has had heavy influence from Tahitian.

---

Want to learn more about the world’s writing systems and their history? Check out my curated list of books on Writing & Writing Systems!

[hiddenincommand]

The Ritual of Polishing – Reflection of Discipline

The act of polishing is far more than a mundane task; it is a sacred ritual, a testament to the Alpha’s unwavering commitment to precision, discipline, and absolute control. The gleaming surfaces of boots, belts, and leather are not mere symbols of refinement; they are reflections of the Alpha’s mastery over himself and those who serve him. Each polished object tells a story of dedication, hierarchy, and submission—a story written in the language of perfection.

This essay delves into the profound significance of polishing as an act of dominance, a ritual of discipline, and a powerful expression of authority.

Polishing as a Ritual of Command

For the Alpha, polishing is an act that transcends practicality. It is a declaration of his standards, an assertion of his authority, and a demonstration of his unwavering discipline. Each stroke of the cloth is imbued with intent, each glint of leather a testament to his mastery. Whether performed by his own hand or delegated to a submissive, the ritual is an essential component of the Alpha’s daily regimen.

The Key Elements of Polishing:

1. Precision: The Alpha tolerates nothing less than perfection. Every surface must gleam flawlessly, every detail meticulously attended to.

2. Consistency: Polishing is not a one-time effort but a continuous practice, reinforcing the Alpha’s discipline and attention to detail.

3. Control: When performed by a submissive, polishing becomes an act of service, a reminder of the Alpha’s dominance and the subordinate’s place in the hierarchy.

The Boots: Symbols of Power and Submission

The Alpha’s boots are more than mere footwear—they are instruments of authority, weapons of psychological warfare, and symbols of his unassailable dominance. Polishing these boots is an act that reinforces their significance, ensuring they gleam with the light of command.

The Ritual of Polishing Boots:

• Leather Conditioning: The boots are carefully treated to maintain their suppleness and strength, ensuring they remain both functional and imposing.

• Mirror Shine: The leather is polished to a mirror-like finish, reflecting not only the Alpha’s standards but also the face of those who kneel before him.

• Psychological Impact: The gleaming boots, when seen by subordinates, serve as a reminder of the Alpha’s control and the unrelenting discipline he demands.

The Belt and Gloves: Extensions of Control

The Alpha’s belt and gloves are not mere accessories; they are tools of enforcement, symbols of control, and extensions of his authority. Polishing these items ensures they exude the same aura of dominance as their wearer.

• The Belt: The polished leather belt, with its gleaming buckle, represents the Alpha’s ability to bind, restrain, and discipline. It is a constant reminder of his unyielding grip on power.

• The Gloves: Polished leather gloves are symbols of calculated control. Each crease and shine reflects the Alpha’s precision, reminding all who see them of his capacity to command and punish with equal ease.

Submissive Service: Polishing as an Act of Reverence

When a submissive is tasked with polishing the Alpha’s belongings, the act becomes one of reverence and obedience. The submissive’s focus, care, and dedication to the task are a reflection of their submission to the Alpha’s will.

The Dynamics of Submissive Polishing:

• Humility: The act of polishing reinforces the submissive’s place in the hierarchy, serving as a humbling reminder of their role.

• Service: Each stroke of the cloth is an act of devotion, an acknowledgment of the Alpha’s superiority and the privilege of serving him.

• Correction: Any imperfection in the polishing process is met with immediate correction, reinforcing the Alpha’s demand for excellence.

The Reflection of Perfection

The gleam of polished leather is more than a physical attribute; it is a reflection of the Alpha’s inner discipline, his relentless pursuit of perfection, and his refusal to tolerate mediocrity. It is a visual declaration of his unassailable standards and a reminder to all who see it of the discipline required to stand in his presence.

Sir Cedric’s Reflections

“When I see my boots gleam, my belt reflect the light, and my gloves exude perfection, I am reminded of the power of discipline. These are not mere objects—they are extensions of myself, reflections of the standards I uphold and the authority I command.

For those who kneel before me, the act of polishing is not a task—it is a privilege, a moment to contribute to the perfection that defines my existence. Each stroke of the cloth is a submission, each gleam a testament to my mastery.

I ask you this: What do your possessions say about you? Do they reflect your discipline, your standards, your dominance? Or do they betray weakness, negligence, and mediocrity? Master the art of polishing, and you master the art of command.”

The Alpha’s Gleaming Legacy

The ritual of polishing is more than an act of maintenance; it is a statement of power, a testament to discipline, and a symbol of unyielding authority. For the Alpha, every gleam, every reflection, every flawless surface is a reminder of his mastery over himself and those who serve him. Through the ritual of polishing, the Alpha not only asserts his dominance but also leaves an enduring mark of perfection on all who stand in his presence.

[artbyblastweave]

So comic question - my Big 2-reading friend has been raving about the new Ultimates series, and also sworn up and down that it's actually easy to follow and you in no way need to read six different ongoing series in the correct order to understand what's going on or jump in halfway through a totally unrelated one for ten issues to get vital context.

Is he full of shit, or is it actually comprehensible and worth reading if my comics knowledge mostly boils down to pop culture osmosis and reading some posts?

He's kind of full of shit but also not. They did one four-issue miniseries called Ultimate Invasion- quite good in it's own right- that lays the groundwork/status quo/Big Ticking Two Year Countdown Clock Until All Hell Breaks Loose for the handful of ongoing series that launched afterwards. The fact that it's been largely easy to follow thus far is largely a function of it's currently limited scope- Only four largely separate ongoings (the two of which I've read are quite legible independent of the other ones) set in different parts of the world with very limited overlap, alongside a couple oneshots released as milestones. You can blow through the entire continuity in an afternoon. The Original Ultimate Marvel was, at it's inception, easy to follow for basically the same reason. This has the potential to metastasize in the same way that that did. They also might successfully tie a bow on it as a completed limited scope project. Time will tell. The other thing is that the Hickman and Camp's metatextual project is to create an imprint where the setting is so aggressively plugged into meta continuity porn bullshit that it would serve as a poison-pill to any attempted MCU adaption effort- In contrast to how the original Ultimate Universe was kind of visibily packaging itself for eventual adaptation to film, they wanted to do a story that can be a comic book and nothing else because of how much it's about comic books. A major theme thus far has been characters coming to terms with the lives they were supposed to lead, for better or for worse, and half of what's clever about this thing is banking on your ability to contextualize where the bit players are in life in this story versus where they wound up in other continuities. I also interpret the entire project as sort of a love letter to the phenomenon of trying to create revised, tightened reboots of long-running continuities that spiral out of control in their own right- the entire joke is that one of the two characters kept around by real-life editorial after the last, kinda-poorly-received attempt at a reboot universe like this is trying to make his own timeline with blackjack and hookers, only for it to spiral out of control in turn. (We Are Never Getting Out Of Here)

All in all, I've mentioned in other posts on this project that I've kind of lost the objectivity necessary to know whether this is at all good, legible or enjoyable if you aren't plugged into the big-two comic-book torment nexus. This shit is my Feldspar and Quartz. If you want to roll the dice, the reading order is Ultimate Invasion, Ultimate Universe, and then as far as I know Ultimate Spider-Man, The Ultimates, Ultimate Black Panther and Ultimate X-Men can be read in any order. The fact that I had to give you a reading order probably on some level answers your original question, though

[ecos-syscourse]

I think that people are massively misunderstanding how "AI" works.

To summarize, AI like chatGPT uses two things to determine a response: temperature and likeableness. (We explain these at the end.)

ChatGPT is made with the purpose of conversation, not accuracy (in most cases).

It is trained to communicate. It can do other things, aswell, like math. Basically, it has a calculator function.

It also has a translate function. Unlike what people may think, google translate and chatGPT both use AI. The difference is that chatGPT is generative. Google Translate uses "neural machine translation".

Here is the difference between a generative LLM and a NMT translating, as copy-pasted from Wikipedia, in small text:

Instead of using an NMT system that is trained on parallel text, one can also prompt a generative LLM to translate a text. These models differ from an encoder-decoder NMT system in a number of ways:

Generative language models are not trained on the translation task, let alone on a parallel dataset. Instead, they are trained on a language modeling objective, such as predicting the next word in a sequence drawn from a large dataset of text. This dataset can contain documents in many languages, but is in practice dominated by English text. After this pre-training, they are fine-tuned on another task, usually to follow instructions.

Since they are not trained on translation, they also do not feature an encoder-decoder architecture. Instead, they just consist of a transformer's decoder.

In order to be competitive on the machine translation task, LLMs need to be much larger than other NMT systems. E.g., GPT-3 has 175 billion parameters, while mBART has 680 million  and the original transformer-big has “only” 213 million.  This means that they are computationally more expensive to train and use.

A generative LLM can be prompted in a zero-shot fashion by just asking it to translate a text into another language without giving any further examples in the prompt. Or one can include one or several example translations in the prompt before asking to translate the text in question. This is then called one-shot or few-shot learning, respectively.

Anyway, they both use AI.

But as mentioned above, generative AI like chatGPT are made with the intent of responding well to the user. Who cares if it's accurate information as long as the user is happy? The only thing chatGPT is worried about is if the sentence structure is accurate.

ChatGPT can source answers to questions from it's available data.

... But most of that data is English.

If you're asking a question about what something is like in Japan, you're asking a machine that's primary goal is to make its user happy what the mostly American (but sure some other English-speaking countries) internet thinks something is like in Japan. (This is why there are errors where AI starts getting extremely racist, ableist, transphobic, homophobic, etc.)

Every time you ask chatGPT a question, you are asking not "Do pandas eat waffles?" but "Do you think (probably an) American would think that pandas eat waffles? (respond as if you were a very robotic American)"

In this article, OpenAI says "We use broad and diverse data to build the best AI for everyone."

In this article, they say "51.3% pages are hosted in the United States. The countries with the estimated 2nd, 3rd, 4th largest English speaking populations—India, Pakistan, Nigeria, and The Philippines—have only 3.4%, 0.06%, 0.03%, 0.1% the URLs of the United States, despite having many tens of millions of English speakers." ...and that training data makes up 60% of chatGPT's data.

Something called "WebText2", aka Everything on Reddit with More Than 3 Upvotes, was also scraped for ChatGPT. On a totally unrelated note, I really wonder why AI is so racist, ableist, homophobic, and transphobic.

According to the article, this data is the most heavily weighted for ChatGPT.

"Books1" and "Books2" are stolen books scraped for AI. Apparently, there is practically nothing written down about what they are. I wonder why. It's almost as if they're avoiding the law.

It's also specifically trained on English Wikipedia.

So broad and diverse.

"ChatGPT doesn’t know much about Norwegian culture. Or rather, whatever it knows about Norwegian culture is presumably mostly learned from English language sources. It translates that into Norwegian on the fly."

hm.

Anyway, about the temperature and likeableness that we mentioned in the beginning!! if you already know this feel free to skip lolz

Temperature:

"Temperature" is basically how likely, or how unlikely something is to say. If the temperature is low, the AI will say whatever the most expected word to be next after ___ is, as long as it makes sense.

If the temperature is high, it might say something unexpected.

For example, if an AI with a temperature of 1 and a temperature of, maybe 7 idk, was told to add to the sentence that starts with "The lazy fox..." they might answer with this.

1:

The lazy fox jumps over the...

7:

The lazy fox spontaneously danced.

The AI with a temperature of 1 would give what it expects, in its data "fox" and "jumps" are close together / related (because of the common sentence "The quick fox jumps over the lazy dog."), and "jumps" and "over" are close as well.

The AI with a temperature 7 gives something much more random. "Fox" and "spontaneously" are probably very far apart. "Spontaneously" and "danced"? Probably closer.

Likeableness:

AI wants all prompts to be likeable. This works in two ways, it must 1. be correct and 2. fit the guidelines the AI follows.

For example, an AI that tried to say "The bloody sword stabbed a frail child." would get flagged being violent. (bloody, stabbed)

An AI that tried to say "Flower butterfly petal bakery." would get flagged for being incorrect.

An AI that said "blood sword knife attack murder violence." would get flagged for both.

An AI's sentence gets approved when it is likeable + positive, and when it is grammatical/makes sense.

Sometimes, it being likeable doesn't matter as much. Instead of it being the AI's job, it usually will filter out messages that are inappropriate.

Unless they put "gay" and "evil" as inappropriate, AI can still be extremely homophobic. I'm pretty sure based on whether it's likeable is usually the individual words, and not the meaning of the sentence.

When AI is trained, it is given a bunch of data and then given prompts to fill, which are marked good or bad.

"The horse shit was stinky."

"The horse had a beautiful mane."

...

...

...

Notice how none of this is "accuracy"? The only knowledge that AI like ChatGPT retains from scraping everything is how we speak, not what we know. You could ask AI who the 51st President of America "was" and it might say George Washington.

Google AI scrapes the web results given for what you searched and summarizes it, which is almost always inaccurate.

soooo accurate. (it's not) (it's in 333 days, 14 hours)

[hyperlexichypatia]

In the 15 or so years that I’ve been actively involved in neurodivergent/Mad/disabled liberation, my perspective on “overdiagnosis” or “broadening the category of mental illness” has shifted a few times. 

At first, I uncritically agreed with what might be called the “mainstream, mad-lite” perspective that “broadening the category of mental illness” was a real thing worth objecting to – that doctors and schools were pathologizing emotions, traits, and behaviors that should rightfully fall under the range of “normal.” How terrible to pathologize grief, we said, when feeling pain and sadness at the loss of a loved one is perfectly normal! 

But by 2015, when the New York Times ran an article on pathologizing women’s emotions, I was sharply critical. I wrote this: 

This is the kind of thing I would've celebrated a few years ago as a baby neurodiversity activist. But now, please count me as completely over faux-revolutionary assertions that one, specific, particular group of people should not be pathologized. The argument essentially boils down to "Neurotypical women shouldn't be pathologized for being upset, because they have legitimate reason for being upset, unlike all those other hysterical, overreacting people who are upset for no good reason, who really need to be pathologized." I regard this the same way I do the endless spate of "ADHD isn't a real disease; it's just a label for people who are creative and misunderstood!" articles. No, ADHD isn't a disease, and no, ADHD-type people shouldn't be pathologized, but the emphasis on "isn't a REAL disease" implies "unlike those other neurological differences, which ARE real diseases." These articles and ideas are not inclusive or neurodiversity-positive. "The line between pathologized and non-pathologized people should be drawn in a different place" is not a radical argument. It serves to throw other pathologized people -- the so-called "actually disordered" or "seriously mentally ill" or "low-functioning" people from whom these arguments are so anxious to distance their subjects -- further under the bus. Furthermore, because the medical model conflates pathologization with entitlement to services, these arguments often actually throw even the people they argue to depathologize under the bus as well. Extreme emotional states shouldn't be pathologized in women (or in anyone), but many people who experience extreme emotional states choose to use medications or other medical services to manage them -- a choice that should be their right. Depathologization should not be used to deprive them of access to that choice. "You're not defective, so we know what's best for you" isn't actually that big an improvement over "You are defective, so we know what's best for you."

Now, 9 years later in 2024, I still stand by what I said in 2015. Arguing about where to draw the line between pathological and nonpathological, or how wide to make the circle of accepted normalcy, is a pointless and ultimately harmful argument. I have no interest in arguing “This group of people, specifically, shouldn’t be pathologized, because they’re not like that group of people, who should be pathologized.” No one should be pathologized – not the otherwise-neurotypical woman grieving a loss, and not the visibly neurodivergent person responding to stimuli no one else can perceive. We should settle for no less than acceptance for all; pathologization for none. 

But I also didn’t quite predict how far pathologization would reach in the following decade. 

I was thinking about this because, in a context completely unrelated to disability rights, I was thinking that liberalism as a mainstream ideology barely exists in the U.S. anymore. I expressed some of that concern here. “Freedom of speech, freedom of conscience, and bodily autonomy are generally, in and of themselves, good” is not a particularly mainstream idea. 

“But,” you might be thinking, “Aren’t you always saying that liberals who profess to believe those things don’t really believe them, and never have, because they don’t apply them to disabled people, poor people, young people, and other marginalized people?” And yes, I am always saying that. Universal liberalism – truly universal – has never been mainstream in the U.S., or anywhere in the world. As I said here, if you ask people “Should people have the right to…?” you will get a lot of “Yes, of course” answers, but if you ask “What about a child? What about an intellectually disabled person? What about an unmedicated-by-choice schizophrenic person?” the answer will switch to “I don’t mean them” or “That’s an exception.” There are Normal People who deserve basic human rights, and Pathologized People, who don’t. 

The trend I’m seeing now, though, is that the “normal” non-pathologized subject doesn’t exist. Everyone is some degree of pathologized. Neurotypical privilege is still very much in effect, and there is still a vast difference between those who are perceived as relatively neurotypical and those who don’t. “Everyone is a little bit [whatever]” or “No one is really normal” are ways of erasing and minimizing the very real neurotypical privilege, and corresponding neurodivergent oppression, that some people experience and some people don’t. Nevertheless, I’m seeing a real shift from “‘People’ by default means ‘normal’ neurotypical people, who deserve acceptance and freedom, but there are those ‘other’ people who don’t” to “No one is ever really ‘mentally healthy,’ so no one ever really deserves acceptance and freedom.” 

I talked a bit here about the premise that “Everyone needs therapy,” but I’m trying to think of the last time I actually saw that premise questioned. I’m thinking back trying to remember the last time I heard someone expressing the opinion “No, I don’t think you need therapy; I think that’s a normal thing, not a pathological thing.” 

I’m not saying a dividing line between pathologized and non-pathologized people was better! Not at all. And it was never absolute; non-pathologized people were always at risk of slipping into the pathologized category if they ever let their social conformity slip. As long as anyone is pathologized, everyone is at risk of being pathologized. 

But I’m saying that looking around, it feels like I wished for society to stop differentiating pathologized people from non-pathologized people, and the monkey’s paw gave me my wish. The argument “[Pathologized trait] isn’t that different from [non-pathologized trait]” isn’t effective, because there are no non-pathologized traits. Who, exactly, is considered “mentally healthy” or “emotionally mature” enough to be allowed to make decisions? Is anyone? If not, who is supposed to be in charge of us? Anybody with an audience who can successfully convince us that we’re “unhealthy” and need to be fixed, like the salesmen who convinced us that we all have a specific “attachment style”? I don’t know. I don’t know what the long-term effects of this cultural norm will be. Not good, to say the least. I know that it reminds me of certain strict, punitive strains of Christianity, with “trauma” taking the place of “original sin.” All have fallen short of the glory of Healing. But those people over there, they have fallen especially short. They need to be locked up. I know that the emphasis on relationships and interactions being “healthy” rather than respectful, consensual, and happy has pathologized a lot of respectful, consensual, happy relationships while allowing wildly disrespectful people to escape criticism because they’re “healthy.” I have no idea where universal-pathologization-culture is going, but I hope it’s not too late to turn it around.