#i am being tested from EVERY angle today

[mirdaniaa]

lol. lmao, even.

[ghulehunknown]

Copia x F!Reader

Day 5 of KINKTOBER is (finally) here! 🎃

**WARNING - EXPLICIT/NSFW**

Also available on AO3!

Written by request for @honey-dripp1n

“Do You Deserve It?”

Summary: You wear your shortest skirt to your one-on-one meeting with Copia, and face the consequences.

CW/Tags: short skirt, boots, degradation, vaginal fingering, thigh riding, PiV sex, unprotected sex, AFAB reader, F!Reader, zero aftercare, dom Copia/submissive reader

Word Count: 1870

It was a rainy, fall day and instead of being curled up in bed reviewing Papa’s business reports, you were in his office with him going over every single line item. ‘Well,’ you thought, ‘at least I could do something to make the boring task a little more fun.’

Oh how you loved to tease him and watch him get flustered in meetings, in the hallway, during mass, or even during a ritual. Would he be able to hide that hard on or not? This was your favorite game to play.

So you showed up to work in your shortest habit - the skirt just barely covering your ass. Perfectly perched on the arm of his chair as he sat at his desk, you gazed out of the window into the garden as the rain went pitter-patter against the glass.

He was completely immersed in his stacks of paperwork. “The September file,” he murmured.

“Hm? Oh, yes I have it right here,” you said, losing your focus on the stapled spreadsheet in your lap. You handed the top stack of papers to him and glanced over your shoulder to double check his work.

After a few moments his left hand wandered into your lap. You thought at first he was reaching for another spreadsheet, but his hand slipped in between your legs. You shifted just slightly, to alleviate the heat now pooling there.

He slid his hand under your skirt and trailed towards your hip. Then a sly smile spread across his face when he realized there was no hem of your panties - just bare skin. “You think I would not notice, Sorella?” he asked, his eyes still on the paper on his desk, one eyebrow cocked.

“Mmm Papa, you know better than anyone that tight clothes and a visible panty line just do not mix,” you replied in a sassy tone.

He shifted in his seat to look you in the eyes, knocking his pen off the desk in the process. “And just what am I expected to do with you now?” You pursed your lips and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, waiting for him to answer his own question.

He looked at the pen on the floor out of the corner of his eye, then glanced back at you. “Pick it up,” he commanded.

You slid off the arm of his chair and daintily kneeled down, tucking your knees together to remain decent. He kicked the pen further on the floor so it was now under his desk. Now you’d have to get on your hands and knees to retrieve it.

You crawled under the desk, your back now to him. You could hear the chair scrape on the floor as he pushed his chair back to give you room - or him a better view. You couldn’t reach the pen from this angle, so you outstretched your arm, arching your back and shoving your ass in the air. You could feel cold air hit your nether regions, so you had a pretty good idea of Copia’s view.

“Such a naughty Sister. Do you enjoy dressing like a little slut and parading your bare ass around the Ministry this way?”

You let out a little chuckle as you finally reached the pen - then a small yelp. He lifted your skirt a little and clapped you on the ass once. You couldn’t help it - the smallest whimper escaped your lips as you stayed frozen on your hands and knees. You felt your slick trickle down your inner thighs as you heard Papa mutter “mmmn,” under his breath.

You started to get up from the floor when you felt his leather boot on your back, immobilizing you. Not sure what to do next, you said meekly, “Here’s your pen Papa,” as you held it up for him.

He snatched it from your hand and snarled in your ear, “Just one more test before I let you up Sorella. Have you been a good or naughty girl today, mm?”

Hm. This seemed to be a trick question. Either response could yield the result you wanted - or do the exact opposite. Gauging by his demeanor so far, you concluded he wanted you to be naughty. “Oh Papa,” you began, savoring your words and choosing them carefully. “I…I’m afraid I’ve been a bad girl today.”

“And how is that, cara mia?” His boot was still on your back, pressing you down harder on the floor.

“Well, you’ve seen how I dressed today Papa. I…I’ve been aroused all day just thinking of you, and how easily you could take me without all those silly layers getting in our way.”

“So you have felt a tickling sensation in the middle there all day, eh? Should I take your word for it or put it to the test?” The pen still in hand, he leaned in close as if he was about to insert it inside your entrance. Your whole body tensed in preparation, and you made another small noise, stifling the sound in your closed mouth. “Relax Sorella, I could smell your sweet musk as soon as you sat down next to me.” He removed his foot from your back and gave you room to stand up.

You stood up beside him and began to straighten yourself and pull your habit back down over your hips but he stopped you, holding your hand firmly in his.

“I still need to see for myself,” he said. He grabbed you by the waist and plopped you down on his desk in front of him, shoving the papers out of the way in the process. He parted your legs with his knee, still sitting in his chair. One hand on your hip, the other sliding between your legs, he stared at you intensely.

You shuddered and tilted your head back as he slipped his middle finger inside you slowly, inch by agonizing inch.

“Mmm so fucking wet,” he said. “You have been bad. So bad to think of me all day and do nothing about it until now.” When you whimpered quietly again, he teased. “Does la mia piccola puttana need more, mm? So greedy you need two fingers?”

He slid his ring finger inside and pumped in and out a couple of times before removing his hand from your core, bringing with it a small pool of your arousal onto his desktop.

You exhaled sharply as he removed his fingers, aching to be filled again. “Yes Papa, I need it so desperately, Lucifer below I do.”

He inserted the same fingers into your mouth and you sucked on them, tasting yourself, tickling his fingertips with your tongue. He grabbed you by the waist and sat you on his thigh, facing him.

Instinctively, you began to grind yourself against the thick, ripped denim, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“So desperate to get off you can’t even wait for your Papa? And just look at the mess you have already made in my office. Who will clean this up? You expect Housekeeping to clean your shame?” he said, gesturing to the giant wet spot now on his jeans and the small puddle of slick on his desk.

Without hesitation, you leaned over and licked your own arousal off his lacquered desk top. It was still warm from being in your body just moments ago. He seemed slightly taken aback, but rolled with it.

“Lucifero,” he whispered as he started to say something but you kissed him on the mouth to shut him up, sliding your wetness you collected in your mouth into his. “Mmn -” he muttered in surprise, then swallowed and broke away from your embrace. “You are full of surprises, Sorella. I can tell I’m going to have fun with you.”

“I think you’ll be able to keep it up better than your brothers,” you whispered into his ear. Grinding on his thigh still, you began to unbuckle his trousers.

He slapped your hand away before you could go any farther. “Did I say you could touch, troia? If you’re going to act like the Ministry’s cum rag, then that is how I will treat you. You don’t get to touch what you’ve been getting from everyone else in this goddamn place. Is there anyone you haven’t fucked?”

“Your father, but that can be changed.”

He grabbed you by the shoulders, nails digging into your skin and leaving red marks. “You’ll regret saying that. And after I’m through, you’ll forget about those other quick lays you had.” He whipped you around and bent you over the desk, fumbling with his belt buckle before freeing his already leaking cock and burying it inside you - deep.

“Oh God Copia!” you screamed as he entered you fully without hesitation. You braced yourself on the desk as he began to pummel into you, grabbing your hair and tugging each time he thrusted back into your slippery cunt. He was moving so quickly - and you were so wet for him - he almost slipped out entirely several times.

“Lucifero all'inferno, come fai ad essere già così bagnata?” he grunted as he relentlessly slammed in and out of you. “Does my little whore enjoy taking Papa’s cock, mm?” he teased as you moaned loudly for him. “Do you think you deserve to cum?” he asked as he reached around to your front and rubbed circles around your clit. “Do sluts like you deserve to cum, do you even deserve Papa’s cock?”

“Please, Papa!” you cried as he touched your sensitive bud.

“Please what? Mm, speak up slut.” He clapped your ass again for good measure. His hips bounced off your plump ass in perfect rhythm to the circular sway of his thrusts. He shoved your head down on the desk so the side of your cheek pressed flat against it, your arms bent on top of the desk to shield your face from getting slammed into it repeatedly.

“Please let me cum! I’ll be so good for you, Papa, I promise - ohhh fuck -” you struggled to say with your head shoved down through rough thrusts.

“You think you deserve it? I don’t think you do, strega.”

You screamed out as he pounded away. “Please Papa!” you begged, so close to orgasm.

“Since you’ve been so polite, puttana.” He continued the small circles around your clit, building up the pressure more and more until your climax came in a sudden explosion throughout your body, shaking uncontrollably.

“Sto per venire! I’m cumming, fuck!” He groaned, body shuddering as he slammed three more times into you - quick and deep. You could feel his warm seed swell inside you, spilling out as he pulled out of you.

You laid there, slumped over the desk like a ragdoll. Your chest heaved as you felt both your cum and his flow down your legs.

He used some tissues to clean off his cock then zipped up his pants. “You did well, Sorella. No wonder you’re everyone’s flavor of the week around here.” He threw the tissue box to you and said, “Now clean yourself up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Silence filled the air as he left you on the desk, still too overstimulated to move. You could hear the rainfall tap at the windowsill.

English to Italian Translation

- cara mia (my dear)

- la mia piccola puttana (little whore)

- troia (slut)

- Lucifero all'inferno, come fai ad essere già così bagnata? (Lucifer in hell, how are you already so wet?)

- strega (witch)

- Sto per venire (I’m cumming)

[demontonic]

Hayden Christensen - The first time - 2

let’s pretend that i didnt already start writing this for a separate story before i decided to just add it in for a part 2 please and thank you! Here’s part 1 if you haven’t read it and my masterlist for more!

word count: 1998

You had landed a part in Star Wars after years of auditioning for any possible role. You had struck mainstream fame after a horror movie you did for Rob Zombie. They had introduced an interesting character, they wanted to give Darth Vader a devotee, of course after Padme he never loved again but they wanted to show how exactly he dealt with it immediately after her passing. The audition was a scene in which said devotee breaks after pining for his approval the entire series.

“I have given you everything I am, I betrayed everything I ever knew, and I have done everything you ever asked! Just once I want you to see me, all I do, all I am is for you… Anakin.” Your voice sounded empty, defeated, broken and angry. Unrequited love in the worst case scenario possible, falling in love with a widowed sith lord. The story outside all the theatrics however was quite the opposite.

“Chosen one, how’s your morning old man?” You taunted in a merry voice, the taller blond man just shook his head. A smirk resting on his lips as he scoffed at the weak attempt of a joke.

“You aren’t too far behind me lady,” he dropped his bag onto the blue mat next to yours. Soon Hayden towered over you awaiting the inevitable comeback, something you’d grown accustomed to during training.

“Twelve years is enough for me to give you shit big papi,” you shoved his torso once you felt your neck stiffening at the uncomfortable angle it required to look at him.

“Well I thought you two weren’t supposed to get along,” Dave Filoni, you swear you could spend hours thanking this man for his work in the Star Wars universe, afterall he did create your character.

“Dave!”

“Hayden!”

They briefly shook hands, clearly having a deep respect and adoration for each other as long time coworkers and friends. Behind Dave however was this redhead, she was older than you but still younger than Hayden. She was the trainer's assistant who very much liked to try and correct Hayden, despite him having more experience than most of us. It wouldn’t have struck a chord with you, it shouldn’t have, but when she placed her hands around his arms to adjust his ‘lightsaber’ it angered you deeply. Luckily for you she seemed to be in quite the chipper mood, “Fan- fucking -tastic,” you thought while watching her drool over him.

“-And then we’ll get started on your final battle, sound good?” Dave looked between you and Hayden, a nod coming from you both before he walked away; being replaced by the main trainer, Harry.

“Morning, Milord, lover girl, Jess.” His voice was relaxed as always, he was a gentle man despite the skills he had taught us. He could cheer you up and stop you from being discouraged one moment and then completely body slam you the next. You were forever grateful he was the trainer, because if it was that snotty bitch Jessica, you’d never catch a break. He liked to refer to us using names related to our characters to ‘get us in the headspace’ you just thought it was cute.

“Morning puff, how was the commute this morning?” You teased since he always complained about traffic, but today he gave you a knowing look. Puff was the nickname you gave him, his hair was insanely fluffy and long it also was a very light blonde.

“Well I’ll have you know it was better today, I hope that’s how your choreography goes as well since we’re gonna start breaking down your final battle today.” He grabbed a pole before swiftly turning to us, a test he’d do every now and then to see if we could spring into action. Of course, being the teacher’s pet I’d met his ‘blade’ first.

“Ah my lover girl, always quick on her feet,” his praise made you smile while he stood down, returning to his previous spot.

“She still needs to keep her legs braced properly, her stance is weak,” Jessica spat while she walked over to Harry, twirling her pole in hand cockily. To be fair she’d won many matches against you, but as of recently you had the winning streak.

“Now Jess-”

“Wanna give it a go, see how weak my stance really is?” You proposed, walking out to the middle of the mat, leaving Hayden to stand lonesome in the corner. He loved your drive, your constant need to prove yourself against that wretched woman. Not many people fancied her, it wasn’t hard to understand why, Hayden was not one of those people.

“Any day, any time, you know I’m always ready,” she quickly met you in the middle, poised for action, awaiting your first strike.

“Are you?” You had been working on this rendition of Hayden’s move, it was your personal touch to the character. It was the famous ‘Obi-Ani’ however when the saber went behind your back the blade would be downturned. From there it would switch hands, strike once it was brought forth, then switched back to your right hand. That was exactly how you started, she hadn’t been able to combat it and in the fictional universe her hand would be severed. In the real world, you hit her wrist very hard, you hoped to see the bruise later on.

“Impressive! I didn’t know you had finally polished that move, I think it will do well in the choreo.” Harry quickly declared before getting in between you two. Hayden also approached you, his hand turned your shoulder to face him.

“What even was that?” He sounded impressed, almost childlike especially with the smile that accompanied the question.

“I took your move, and I made it my own master,” you said cockily with a shit eating smile. Harry’s praise made you smile, but Hayden’s interest made you jump for joy.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

It had been a few hours now, you had gone through 4 out of 10 parts of the battle and you were starting to get frustrated. The lightsaber part had never been an issue, but the footwork on your part was intense. It had to be because by now Anakin was Darth Vader his mobility was nothing like the prequels. To keep Hayden stiff they had pads on his arms and knees to limit the movement. On top of that there was a lot of dialogue throughout the beginning, so you kept circling each other, anticipating each other's next moves.

“Again, let's slow it back dow-“

“No. Let’s do it again, I just need to keep doing this until I get it.” It wasn’t a backflip or some mind blowing parkour, however the transition from running, to sliding, up to your knees; and then trying not to fall back while Hayden pushed down on you with his saber wasn’t easy.

“Do you want me to ease up?” God sometimes you just wanted to hit him with the pole when he tried to water it down for you. He came from a good place but amidst your frustration, and Jessica’s relentless corrections you were losing control.

“No, just start again at 3”

“Okay, on your line”

And with a heavy sigh you repeated the last line of your spiel. “Just once I want you to see me, all I do, all I am is for you… Anakin.” Your voice was harsh, it was unmissable so as Hayden began his attack, you deflected with more force than normal. Your jaw was clenched and your fists tight. Your eyes were set on Hayden, it was like you were doing the scene for the actual take, hell it was like you were actually living this scenario.

“Anakin is no more, I killed hi-“

“Liar!”

You stepped forward going back into the confrontation, your sabers clashing louder than before. Grunts leaving your throat as you push your tired body to perfection, until you catch sight of Jessica. Her glare stuck on you as if you killed her favorite person, it just made you fume. The next part is when you cut off Vader’s left hand and while normally you let Hayden put his hand down, you hit the back of his hand. Finally it had clicked that you weren’t okay, something was bothering you and he had a pretty good idea why. However he remained silent and followed through with the scene.

“All this time, did you think I might fall in love with you? Your pride consumes you, padawan.”

“And your grief consumes you.” You said through clenched teeth, this was where you had to jump off a blue block they’d set up. As you jumped down, you rolled onto your knees before running at Hayden, and to avoid his saber you slid beneath it. Once you turned to face him, you hurriedly got onto one knee finally making it on time before your sabers clashed. He pushed down on you and you could feel your shoe slip against the slick fabric of the mats. You were fed up with this plastic always fucking this part up so you pushed back with all your upper body strength.

Not your best moment.

Hayden fell back as you stood up and this finally calmed you down from your mood. You breathed heavily while you walked over to help him back up, twirling your saber mindlessly. You looked down at the blonde, holding your hand out wordlessly in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I just-“

“Let’s take a break, and talk about this.” Hayden interjected before hurriedly ushering you to the parking lot. There was nothing to say, it was childish of you to act out, it was embarrassing, you couldn't begin to process the emotions pooling in your stomach. He unlocked his car and opened the door for you without hesitation, he was scarily calm as you got in the passenger seat. It didn’t take long for him to get into the driver’s seat, long strides equaled less steps. Once he was seated the silence continued for a moment, you wouldn’t dare meet his gaze.

“Jessica is a hard person to be around, I’m sure you’ve had a few instances like that in the workplace. Y/N you are giving her what she wants when you get angry, people like that thrive off your misery.” Hayden Christensen, he had to be God’s favorite, he was so nice and understanding. A gentle giant trying to reason with a short psycho, perfect.

“It disappoints you as much as it does me-“

“I’m not disappointed in you, if anything I’m proud… surprised even.”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah, Harry assumed you would’ve chewed her head off by now. You saved me 20 bucks”

“So what I’m hearing is you think I could win in a fight.” The mood was lighter now, you both sported bright smiles while the banter continued.

“I wouldn’t have put money on you if I didn’t think you would,” he was being sincere and you knew by the way he spoke so effortlessly.

“Might not be for much longer, it’s like she gets worse everyday- that or my tolerance is getting shorter.” This time your tone sounded defeated, sure you’ve dealt with more stressful things in life, but it seemed as though you had no more patience left. Hayden quickly took note of this and used the leverage of you being a Star Wars nerd to cheer you up.

“Have faith love, everything will soon be set right… I’ve been told she’ll be transferred to a different project anyway. Someplace far far away from us,” His voice dwindled to a hushed volume, it was soothing.

“That would bring peace to the entire city.” He laughed at your brutal joke before changing the subject.

“So do you think we can go in there and try to play nice?” The question lingered for a moment before you reluctantly answered him.

“I don’t make promises.”

“But?”

“But… I will try.”

“Atta girl.”

@oogachakaooga

@lonelywitchv2

@papas-peepee

[theragethatisdesire]

Ideas!

Bff Eren #10

Because there’s gotta be more Eren/Jean discourse before Jean comes to terms with the fact that he’s not getting his ex back. Eren being a smug ass mother fcker about it, too.

OR

Roommate Jean (well, poly boyfriend Jean). “You look pretty like that” prompt.

Maybe reader is handcuffed to a chair or in a bed? She’s an absolute mess because she’s dying to be touched and neither of her boyfriends will indulge her. They’re not sure if they even want to considering how pretty she looks all desperate and restrained. They’ll stroke themselves so close to her mouth, let her think she’ll get a taste. She stains her neck in hopes of getting a lick but they stay ever so slightly out of reach. 🤷🏻‍♀️

If I keep writing, I’m gonna end up sending a damn drabble to your ask box. 🤣

HIIIII kjt<333 omg.....this is like...such a difficult choice. honest to god i may pocket your first idea for something.....longer than a drabble ;) so i'm gonna go with the second one bc i am OBSESSED with poly erejean like genuinely. obsessed. might have a part 2 coming for them too solely bc i love them<3

throwing all nsfw under the cut like always

"Not too tight, is it, baby?" Jean tugs the ropes digging into your skin into what has to be the final knot after nearly twenty minutes of positioning, repositioning, and admittedly, a rope burn around your ankle.

"Mm-mmm," you try to assure him around the gag in your mouth, shaking your head no. Jean smiles, places a laughably chaste kiss on your forehead.

"Such a good girl for us, aren't you? He's going to love it."

The ropes were Jean's idea; ever since he'd joined your relationship with Eren, almost everything was Jean's idea, having come so far from the timid, reluctant lover you'd made of him a few months ago. These days, Jean's nearly bouncing out of bed in the morning with a new idea to bring to the bedroom, and neither you nor Eren have the wherewithal to complain about it.

Eren's had a rough few weeks at work, and over coffee this morning, Jean had talked you into a "surprise" for your mutual boyfriend. This surprise had involved a trip to a sex shop, a hardware store, and an hour-long Youtube tutorial on knot-tying, but you'd figured it out together, and it's paid off.

Jean's got your arms above your head, secured to either side of the headboard, and your legs spread wide enough to incite a slight ache in your hips, ankles tied to your thighs and putting your already-dripping cunt on display. A black lace gag is holding your voice back behind your teeth, and the collar Eren and Jean had surprised you with last weekend jingles around your neck when you wiggle experimentally, testing the bonds that Jean's wrapped you up in.

"Can't get out, can you?"

"Mm-mm," you affirm, tugging on the ropes at your wrists to prove your point. Jean grins again, wicked and dark.

"Eren's not the only one getting a surprise today," he muses, knocking around in the nightstand drawer on your side of his bed.

What he pulls out makes your eyes widen.

"I didn't tell you, but I left a little pocket riiight..." Jean trails off, working the vibrator under a little slip in the rope, "here."

He angles it perfectly against your clit, not yet turning it on, but watching your reaction lecherously. You're already running hot with your movements restrained, already starting to feel the hum of lust buzzing through your body.

Before Jean can make another move, you meet eyes meaningfully at the sound of the front door opening, Eren's voice calling out into the empty apartment.

"You guys home?"

"Be right back, don't move." Jean snickers at his own joke, leaving you there bare and unattended.

Unable to move, your other senses hone in on every little bit of stimulus around you. The muffled sounds of conversation between Eren and Jean outside; you can hear Eren's disgruntled grumble, Jean's soothing timbre, but not what they're saying. The annoying, understimulating nudge of the vibrator against your center. The texture of the lace gag against your tongue, the way it's making you drool ever so slightly. And then the door clicks open.

"Fuck..." Eren trails off, eyes going wide. If you look close enough, you can see the front of his pants already beginning to tent. You're not sure what to do, so on display; you can't smile through the gag, can't even move in greeting, really. Jean's turned you into their little fuckdoll in the most literal sense of the word. Jean smirks proudly.

"Isn't she so-"

"So pretty," Eren breathes out, rounding the bed to caress your cheek, brush a thumb over your nipple, "you look so pretty like this, baby."

Jean comes behind Eren, wrapping muscled arms around his waist, palming slightly at the erection forming behind Eren's zipper. "She's all yours, we both are. Whatever you want tonight."

"Whatever I want, huh?" Eren's eyes darken. He turns his head over his shoulder to Jean, catching the other man's mouth in a slow, languid kiss. Watching them pulls a whimper from you, muffled by the gag, but insistent.

Jean breaks the kiss to frown down at you, reach over and flick the vibrator on, ripping a tinny whine out of your throat.

"Behave yourself, you're supposed to be his little surprise, remember?"

Eren smirks down at you through hooded eyes, lets one lazy hand drag soothingly up Jean's neck, lets the other come down to tweak your nipple roughly. "Let her act up a little. Can't punish her if she's not being a brat, right?"

[rivetgoth]

Tbh I think one aspect of goth club environments that I find a bit frustrating, though generally keep to myself/my close circles who know I'm not coming at this from some massively judgmental angle but more passive observation and ultimately minor grievance, is that I think there's two pretty distinct camps in most of them where Camp 1 is "people who love goth [or otherwise dark alternative] music who want to hear it played loudly and dance while socializing with other individuals who love this music as much as them," and Camp 2 is "people who are weirdos and freaks [affectionate] who wanted to find a place where they could express themselves comfortably and safely and meet other weirdos and freaks." And these aren't completely separate spheres, but the two circles of this Venn diagram are not nearly as overlapping as you would think.

I consider myself first and foremost Camp 1 as the one and only reason I became goth and began participating in this community was the love of the music, the music has kept me alive and shaped me into the person I am today, the reason I go out to these events is for the music, and every close friend I've made in this scene has been through the love of the music, but I don't have any negative feelings towards Camp 2 and I relate to them in many ways as well. I think goth clubs are fantastic accepting spaces for queer people, kinky and sex posi people, autistic and other neurodivergent people, and people who otherwise just do not fit into the norm, whether it be due to something outside of their control or just having Weird Person Interests that have gotten them kinda stigmatized by wider society. I totally found solace in the goth scene due to being a lot of those things myself. But I still connect first and foremost with the people who love the music. That is THE THING that has kept me going. While when it comes to the exclusively Camp 2 people, a loooot of them kind of come out to these spaces specifically to be amongst other likeminded individuals and feel accepted for their weirdness, and the music is practically, just, like, incidental lol. Ironically they don't necessarily realize how much of the reason that these spaces ARE historically safe for them is due to what the music itself, the musicians making it, and the fans of the music have stood for.

The thing is I don't really think anything needs to be "done about this" or whatever, I hesitate to call it a problem at all, firstly I think that the dark alternative scene SHOULD be a safe space for individuals who exist outside of the norm and I don't think they should need to pass some sort of knowledge test in order to gain entry to these spaces, second of all I think many of them over time do come to love the music, even just by being around it enough to develop positive association, and third I think that supporting these spaces with physical bodies, generating financial revenue, etc is the best way of keeping them alive so ultimately it doesn't really matter how much or how little they know if they're showing up and materially supporting the scene. But I do think it's like... person to person, a little sad, I guess, that the dark alternative scene is so muddled with just the general broad category of humans that is "people who are weird and don't fit the norm" that it's kinda difficult to find people who are there because they love the music and a lot of the people who I get excited to connect with because they're openly trans or something reveal quite quickly they don't really listen to any of the bands I'm there to hear, they just heard from a friend who heard from a friend that you can meet other cool queer people and be GNC safely there. And that's great! It really is. But I do wish that the people who were going to these spaces without knowing much about the music would spend some time exploring it. I think they'd probably find a lot to love about it honestly.

[opiumkitten]

Disobedience Begets Consequence

Zhongli, the Archon of War, wasn't always a calm man. After all, he is the Rex Lapis everyone knows.

So, of course he has a disciple who is a bit unruly every now and again. How does he fix this?

In his own little way of course.

Ruixia is an OC of mine. She's a common theme that shows up in my work as a Senri. I usually do Y/N works, but I wanted to release something small of my own as I start incorporating more of my more concrete reads here. I hope you enjoy Ruixia and Zhongli <3

There will be a part 2 and maybe even a 3. Part 2 will be posted soon since we've already had 3 released today.

Warning: Free Use, Aggression, Degradation, Submission, Half monster fucking (Zhongli has a barb)

The Collection

MINORS DNI MINORS DNI MINORS DNI MINORS DNI MINORS DNI

“Ruixia, I told you not to go down into that village for any reason-“

“But they were screaming for help-“

“That village is ridden with karma-“

“You told me to help whenever I can-“

“NOT THAT VILLAGE. STRICTLY.” Pointing at the dark, muddled houses, Zhongli glared angrily at the Senri, her ears flat as her tails lashed.

“The karma they have is a direct result of what they’d done 100 years ago, and you, by interfering, have made it worse.” Getting in close, he tapped her nose with his finger.

“You only listen halfway. Never consult me before barging in. Do you not understand just who I am, or are you testing –“

Electricity zapped up his arm from where she bit his finger, Ruixia eyes sharp as venom spat from them.

“Rex Lapis, this Rex Lapis that- I’m so scared of the Lord of Geo-“

She wasn’t sure what happened after he’d grabbed her by the mouth, his palm cutting off her rant as he forced her into the stone so roughly, pain bloomed at the base of her skull.

A deep growl resonated around them before gold emanated from his being-

Tearing open her hanfu, she panicked as he hitched her leg up, ripping her panties before unsheathing himself.

“W-wait- Rex Lapis I-“ He didn’t give her a chance to rescind, forcing his way inside as she whined loudly over his invasion. Beating at his chest, she gripped hard at the lapels of his robes as she tried steadying herself, Zhongli pumping hard inside her.

Her whining soon turned to wanton moans, tears streaking down her face as she tried to hide it, but Zhongli wasn’t having it.

Grabbing her by the throat, he forced her to look at him, embarrassment flooding her cheeks and running down her thighs as it stained the front of his pants.

“Please-..My Lord I-“

“Scolding you never works. You NEVER learn your lesson till I fuck it into you, disobedient little wretch.”

Shivers ran up her spine as her tail wrapped around his wrist. Humiliation as she bit her lip, made Zhongli’s aura grow brighter, enjoying the bounce of her supple breasts as her back arched.

That’s when she noticed through the blurriness of her tears that his horns and tail had grown out.

She’d really pissed him off this time, didn’t she?

“My Lord- I’m so-“

“Save it. Apologize with your body.” Snapping at her, he leaned in as he reached deeper, making her scream-

His fangs pierced her neck, making her eyes roll back as her body gave-

He didn’t stop- fucking her through her orgasm as her claws dug so deep into his back, he felt the beads of crimson running down his shoulders. Her blood was sweet, her sweat and pheromones mixing well on his tongue as he licked his way up her jugular.

“You are MY disciple. YOU. Serve. ME. Understand, Ruixia?”

“Y-yes My-Mmmmm~”

“Yes-What?” His words were pronounced with every vicious thrust, her sweet spot completely open from this angle.

“M-Master~”

“You do as I say when?”

“When…when you s-say it-!”  Pinching her nipple roughly, Zhongli slapped her tit before clawing her thigh angrily.

“You listen when?”

“The first time- Master I’m gonna cum again-“

Ruixia’s eyes were Prussian with guilt, lips pouty and open as her moans bounced around the bamboo forest.

“Did I tell you you could cum?” Clenching down to stop the release, Zhongli had to stop his eyes from rolling as she trapped her swollen lip between her teeth.

“No-Master. For-forgive me-“ Zhongli buried himself to the hilt, her breath catching in her chest as she looked down. She felt his pulse as every inch was stuffed inside her, her own quicker and harder as her flower tried milking his seed from him.

“Will you go back into that village?” Grinding into her, he felt her walls stretch tighter around him, her head kicking back as he abused her Gspot.

“N-no sir-“

“Will you help them?”

“No-sir” thumbing over her nipple, Zhongli breathed in deep as he licked over the wound he’d placed on her neck.

“Will you take every drop I fuck into this disobedient little hole?”

Her hard nod as her eyes met his, was cute. Her hips had started moving on their own, begging for his pleasurous reward- I mean, her lesson to resume.

“Yeah? You won’t waste a drop?”

“No...No Master.”

“You’ll keep it in all day?”

“I’d be…honored…to be your fuck toy, Rex Lapis…” Smirking, Zhongli ghosted over her lips as his hands trailed south. Fishing through the silk and satin, he knew exactly where to go, pressing against her womb-

Brushing over his brand on her skin, he felt his thickness as he slid all the way out.

The delicious symphony of her gooey sex met his ears as a ragged moan left her, her eyes searching to see-

As he leaned back, Ruixia got a good look of his dick covered in her arousal.

“You think you deserve it?”

“No…no I don’t. I’m a disobedient little wretch who gets off on making her Master angry. I don’t deserve your graciousness nor your seed.” Panting roughly, new tears formed as her need flared. Pain along with pleasure searing across her body as she became hyper sensitive.

But Zhongli didn’t move as he watched her wither. Silently, he watched her melt as his aura took hold.

Ruixia wasn’t like his other disciples. She didn’t obey him like Ganyu or Xiao did. She enjoyed causing mischief and forced his hand in ways that a scolding or a fight wouldn’t help.

And so, he made a contract with her.

Branding her body, whenever she disobeyed him, he’d carve the lesson into her flesh, and use the karma to fuck her out so thoroughly she’d think twice before repeating the same mistake.

And she’d thank him for every bit of it.

She’s become more obedient, only doing “good” misdeeds.

But as those lidded eyes met his.

He was sure that long ago; she’d figured out that if she ‘misbehaved’ she’d end up under him.

Smirking at him, Zhongli gripped her throat-

Forcing his way inside, he felt her orgasm pool around him before glossing down her thighs.

But he didn’t mind it too much.

Just meant he’d have to punish her thoroughly when she did so.

Grabbing up her other leg, he opened her wide as he fucked into her roughly. Ruixia couldn’t push his hips away, even as she tried, her weak body was no match for him as he bullied her little cunt mercilessly. His deep growl cut through the air as her hand found purchase in his hair, gripping hard at his scalp as she tried finding reprieve in his neck.

“T-thank you- my Lord-! Please- I beg you- fill me-!” Zhongli cut her off with his lips. He wasn’t going to let her charm her way from under him just yet.

His lesson wasn't over.

And he was having so much fun, balls deep in his favorite little Senri.

Beating at his shoulder, Ruixia panted roughly into his lips as her third orgasm came rushing through her.

She knew she’d be in trouble for cumming again-

“You’ve cum twice without my permission. Don’t think I can’t tell with how you’re dripping and ruining my clothes, Senri.”

“I’m so…so sorry, my Lord. But you feel so good. I try to hold it, and you –“

Completely sheathing himself in her warmth, he watched as she short circuited before doing it again.

And again.

Till he fucked her in the same belligerent rhythm.

“Keep. Doing. That-…My Lord, you’ll make me-“

“Women pray to be you. Screaming my name into their pillows every night. Do you know that?”

Shaking her head, she whimpered as he pressed into her sweet spots arrogantly, stirring her up as delirium started taking hold.

“And here you are. Taking me against a rock, after shaking your little ass just to get it. You can’t be grateful and hold your orgasms for me?”

Trembling as she tried, he couldn’t help smirking as he bit his lip to hide it.

“You-force them…you love it..too-!” Clipping into her, he moaned as she creamed for him, fat tears rolling down her temples as she searched the heavens for mercy. Her body stuttered as he took her in, suckling at her nipple as he rode her through and then far past the point of over stimulation.

She wasn’t wrong. He loved the way her pussy pulsed around him as he had his way with her. 

And though she may have been disobedient to get here, she was his good little slut when he wanted her to be.

Wherever he wanted.

And however he wanted.

So, when he felt his balls drawing in tight as his release inched up his shaft, he watched that pretty, dumbed out face as she welcomed her final orgasm with his own.

“Cum for me.”

“F-fuck- yes-! Rex..!” Ruixia’s unleashed orgasms were far better than her forced ones, her legs opening more, her pussy fluttering freely as her hips pressed up to meet Zhongli’s.

His broken groans fanned over her neck as he got lost in the throbbing heat, barring his fangs-

His barb latched on deep inside-

Ruixia screamed, her claws etching into the stone as she clawed at Zhongli. Her belly descended from his load, so full as his pumping slowed till he was empty.

As her purring kicked up, Ruixia opened her neck for him, his licking as he closed her wound a tickle before he slowly detached from inside her. She felt the pleasurous spike scrape down her walls as he retracted before he created the seal, the golden slip she’d become very familiar with.

And placed it right on her pussy.

She truly wouldn’t be wasting any with that in place.

Letting her down, he watched her sink to her knees as she thanked him with her mouth, licking up every drop from his dick and lapel before trying to stand on shaky legs.

Attentively, Zhongli righted her robes as she did the same, wiping the lipstick from his lips as she blushed from his refreshed features.

“Have I made myself clear, Ruixia?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Good. That seal will stay in place for the day. You try to remove it, I’ll be notified.”

Pouting, his release had already started taking effect, her legs scissoring together as she took in how handsome he was.

“…but My Lord-“

“But?”

“I…it already…”

“That’s what your ass is for, now isn’t it?”

Turning, he righted his posture before making his way back to the city.

“You want that stretched; I suggest you come along. You rush at any point then you’ll wait longer.” As quickly as the feeling returned to her legs it was being taken away as she walked after him-

Zhongli had her tattered panties in his hand, bringing them to his nose as he looked at her, eyes flashing.

“…Maybe I’ll give you a bit before we get back. Filling your pussy a bit more would make fucking your ass all the better, right Ruixia?”

Her knees buckled as her brand responded, pleasure sparkling inside her as she fought back the orgasm.

“Yes...My Lord…”

2023 Copywritten and Owned by @opiumkitten

Do not claim or repost anywhere. If you see any works on any other site claimed by anyone else but @opiumkitten please report it to me and report it to the site. Thank you

[rebelelegance]

My Person

A/N: Burst of motivation so used it for this rather than studying for my next test 'cause, why not? @lokisgoodgirl thank you so much for the ideas!! Kinda mixed 2 of them together here.

w/c: 1945

Summary: Loki decides to celebrate Valentine's a little early in view of you working hard for your exams.

Warnings: None, just pure fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki didn’t like seeing you stressed. However, your college didn’t seem to be on board with that plan, and it infuriated him. You’d been slogging off for 3 days, your sleep schedule, your food schedule and everything else being thrown out the window just because your college thought asking you a bunch of questions about the hardest subject Loki had ever heard of would be a good way to test your intelligence.

If only they knew how good you were at snowball fighting. He’d like to see them find some better at figuring out an angle to blindside the Hawkeye. 

However you’d told him it was important nonetheless and as much he disliked it, decided to at least support you in whatever way he could until the day of the exam. Which was today.

He lost count of how many times he checked the time, 2pm just couldn’t seem to come any quicker. And it was only 11.15. He groaned, sliding lower in his position on the couch. He didn’t know why he was so anxious, and yet he couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing up and down, pausing temporarily when his phone buzzed, resuming at a faster pace when he realized who it was.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The blonde God who is unfortunately my brother

Brother! I am going to the store called Target 

to buy a Valentine’s Day gift for Jane. Would you 

like to accompany me?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Loki sighed, he’d heard you gushing about Valentine’s Day to Natasha, although he couldn’t figure out what you’d planned for him, just that he was going to love it. He didn’t doubt that, a day full of cuddles in itself would be more than enough for him. However, he did want to get you something special, so begrudgingly he replied.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alright, but you stay 5 feet away from me. I’m not

in the mood for your cheeriness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He got up, grabbing a coat and the house keys as he stormed out of the house, with the realization that he knew nothing about what to get someone for Valentine’s day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thor had decided on a box of chocolates, a rose and a card for Jane, however Loki couldn’t find something worthy of you. He’d gone through an entire aisle of cards nearly ripping three of them after reading the cheesy lines written in fine print. Only one had seemed interesting, something about sending something sexy for valentine’s day but not being able to fit into the post box. But, after some consideration, he found it rather silly. He’d also managed to nearly ruin a card with a pull-out message on it. He’d pulled it too hard, almost pulling the heart right out of the fold, rather than unfolding it. Thor had stood there, laughing nearly the entire time, telling every person who passed that it was his brother’s first time Valentine’s shopping, earning amused chuckles from them and glares and threats from Loki himself. 

He huffed, throwing his hands up in the air. “This is an absolute waste of time,” he nearly yelled, turning to Thor. He pointed an accusing finger, “You put me up to this, you-you love watching me fail at this don’t you- you filthy little excuse of a-”

“Loki! We’re in public, save your insults for the car,” Thor stopped him, gently pushing Loki’s hand away. He fumed, but stayed silent, closing his eyes in defeat. “I have an idea,” Thor started. Loki opened one eye, tilting his head to the side. “What does Y/N mean to you?”

Loki straightened, opening his mouth to bite back - “For once take me seriously,” Thor said, shifting his bag of goods from one hand to the other. 

Loki sighed. “She’s special Thor. She just- there’s something about her. I can’t explain it. She knows exactly what to say when. She’s smart, funny, and talented. I can’t- I can’t just give her chocolates or some printed card, it’s-it’s not enough.” 

Thor smiled, “Then don’t brother, give her something personal. What would she like?”

Loki froze in thought. Personal. What was that phrase you always used? My person. You’re my person. If only he could materialize that. He placed his hands on his hips, and started pacing. Personal. Personal. My person. Us. He froze, spinning back to Thor. “I’ve got it!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you got home, you expected Loki would be all over you. You hadn’t texted him after the exam, and deliberately told him a time 2 hours later than the actual end of your test, just so that you could add a few final touches to the Valentine’s Day present you’d got him. It was tomorrow, which meant you were a bit late, but with your exam schedule, it’d been hard to get anything else done at all. However when you walked into the dining room, you froze, nearly dropping your bags.

Loki was standing there in jeans and a black shirt, with that emerald blazer you’d given him on New Year’s partly buttoned, a huge grin on his face. The table was covered in rose petals and little colored pieces of paper, with a box sitting in the center. 

You placed your bags down, immediately running over and engulfing him in a big hug. Loki laughed as he caught you, twirling you around once, before setting you down gently and bending over for a kiss.

“How was your exam darling?” He asked once he pulled away, his arms still around your waist. You smiled, “It went well,” you pulled yourself closer to him, your arms tightening around his waist. You kissed his shoulder, “Thanks for all your help,” you whispered. 

Loki kissed your forehead, rubbing your back gently. “Don’t thank me love, you deserve all that and much more.” You both pulled away, your eyes filled with nothing but admiration for your boyfriend. You turned, one hand still around his torso, as you used the other to gesture to the display in front of you.

“So,” You said.

“So,” he responded. You looked up at him. “What is all this?” you laughed. He smiled, “You can choose darling. An early Valentine’s Day present, or a reward for working so hard for your test,”

“But I only just told you that I did well,” you said, confused.

“Whether you did well or not is secondary,” he replied, “you did your absolute best, and a reward is in order.” 

You couldn’t help the huge grin that split across your face. “So how do I go about this?” you asked, stepping up to the table. “Read the notes first. Then open the box,” Loki replied. You suddenly turned back to him. “You’re not proposing are you? I mean- not that I would mind, I- I’d love it. But I mean, I still haven’t graduated and I- I just thought-” Loki placed his hands on your shoulders, silencing you. “I know love, it’s not. Don’t worry,”. You nodded, hoping he didn’t feel bad. You knew you loved him enough to marry him, but you wanted to graduate first. You were glad he understood.

You turned back around reaching for the first note. It was written in his handwriting, delicate cursive filling the small colored square.

I’m so grateful for the fact that Tony basically raised you. Otherwise, I doubt you would have forced me to confess my feelings for you.

You laughed, reaching for the next one,

Your smile is brighter than the Bifrost. And that, as you say, is saying something.

You grinned, picking up a pink one next,

I’ve never said it, but your hugs are my safe space. The world’s cruelty disappears when your arms are sound mine.

At this point your eyes were starting to water as you picked up the next 3 at once.

I do think at this point you are the one thing I could not live without. You make life worth living, for someone who has gone through and done as much as I have.

I know you don’t like me seeing you dance, but I will confess, that I have seen it once, when you thought I wasn’t home yet and you were blasting your favorite ‘Sucker’ by the Jonas Brothers and dancing around the kitchen.

One more thing I never say enough: You Are My Person

Tears were now streaming down your face, and Loki wrapped his hand around your waist from behind, wiping your tears away with the other.

He kissed your hair, “I love you,” he said. You turned around, pulling him down for a long kiss.

“I love you too,” you whispered, pulling away. 

“Open the box please,” he requested, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You pulled away, walking back to the table as you gently picked up the small box. You opened it carefully, gasping immediately once you saw what was inside.

A golden colored necklace sat inside with a beautiful heart outlined with stones as the pendant. Inside the heart was your initial, a little plus sign and then an L. You turned around to Loki, holding it out. He carefully pulled the necklace out, and you turned back around. You pulled your hair out of the way, as he gently fastened the necklace around your neck, kissing your shoulder afterwards. 

“I love it,” you grin, placing the box on the table. “I’m glad darling,” Loki replied, a smile on his face. “My turn,” you walk over to your bags, going through them as you pick out a box. You hand it to your boyfriend, “Happy Valentine’s Day love.”

Loki carefully opened the box, lips curving into a huge grin as he saw what was inside. You’d gotten him a thin gold bracelet, with a small rectangular piece in the center reading: My person.

You gently turned the bracelet over, the underside had your nickname etched into it.  

Loki looked back up at you, “Put it on for me?” You nodded, carefully pulling it out and clasping it around his wrist.

He then promptly wrapped his arms around you again.

It took you forever to decide what you wanted to get him. When you were on your way home from college one day, you passed a store that was selling personalized jewelry and you couldn’t help but think it was perfect.

Loki pulled away slightly, “I have to admit though, Thor did help me a bit with the decision, not what to buy of course, but more of how to decide what to buy. That doesn’t make sense does it?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “I think I got it. But, you know what that means,” you said, pulling away. “Uh- no, no I don’t,” He responded, concern lacing his voice as you started carrying your bags up the stairs.

You turned back around, pausing, “You have to say thank you,” you smirked, then continued up the stairs.

Loki ran after you “No. Not in the name of the nine realms, no way,” he protested, as you packed everything away. “Yes,” you said your arms on your hips.

“No.”

“Yes, you will.”

“No, I will absolutely not.”

“Fine then, no cuddles for 2 days. And that’s really saddening you know, considering I have a day off tomorrow,”

Loki gaped at you, both of you knowing full well that you’d cornered him. “I-You- You wouldn’t,” he said pointing at you. 

You shrugged, the smirk still on your face. “I just did.”

He groaned, “Fine, fine, I’ll apologize tomorrow.”

You nodded, jumping on to the bed with the TV remote. “That works.”

“So can I get cuddles today then?” he asked, cautiously approaching the bed.

You laughed, “Get over here ya big cuddle bug.”

A/N: This was soo fun to writee. Hope y'all like it!!

[lethedwarddavidsonworld-blog]

Signalis Doom - 4

Another mixed bag of a day, largely spent on textures. Did you know video games tend to have alot of them? So today's issue came from me grappling with the fact that what's good for Signalis texturing is not good for Doom texturing. At first, i didn't see the issues though. Signalis's Textures are all actually at or around doom's texture resolutions, and it's sprite sheets can easily be chopped up into good looking walls and pillars and such.

The problem comes from two places. 1. these are textures made to wrap around a 3d model, not laid out along a floor or a solid wall, so i had to figure out exactly how i was going to chop it up. Do i have a few solid pieces? do i chop it up into a dozen small ones so i have the most control? the answer is it's gonna vary.

For example. here's a chunk of the Penrose and it's wall texturing. The entire room is one model, and every part of it(including the lil' spires in the corners) are all pulling from the same sheet. Each part is meant for dif stuff, which explains why some chunks are much brighter, or darker, than others. That's great for UVing, but i don't really know what i'm supposed to do with something like this. What do i do with the clearly darker chunk of wall? Sometimes, there are walls that have a lil' extra line on the bottom, or the top, and i don't know why. I think they'd texture rooms so that dif parts would look better to the camera angle. That's great for their angle, but a bit odd in first person.

I mean it guess it's not that weird, but i think it'd have to edit it to have a more natural falloff or somesuch. It doesn't look great ported as-is, and this problem comes up alot (this is a minor example tbh) 2. Doom's textures more often than not are expected to look acceptable when used on large surfaces. This means floors and walls and such need to be able to tile (or repeat forever) cleanly, but without drawing too much attention to the repetition. Like a walking loop, you don't want a specific action to pop too much because it'll call attention to the loop.

Signalis's textures, however, are often very small textured tiled very aggressively. It's something that you don't think much about in a slow game from a pulled back perspective. However, once you're low to the ground and moving at a clip, not only do you notice the repetition, but it can honestly get a bit nauseating to see the patterns whoosh by.

the floor textures look like this. Most areas are made up of the middle tile in the ring, with the ring parts often running along walls. The bits on the righjt and bottom are often used to break up the visuals. At first, i thought this would be a big problem. The 32x32 tiles just repeat too hard to look good. However, i am a dummy, and forgot that this is pretty easily solved by breaking the ground up and slotting those tiles in.

Now, it's more work than it'd be on a 3d model, cuz i'm gonna need to remember to do this manually. But, that solves the problem of using the little details. Doesn't really solve this tiled floor being a nightmare to see stretch on forever, but at least it's something. --- I spent a bit of time working on getting some 3d models and stuff into the game as a test, which didn't go great. The community models for the characters are fantastic, however, they don't deform well when converted to the .md3 format.

GZDoom doens't used fbx files, it uses OBJ for static stuff, and MD3 (an old quake 3(?) file type) for stuff with animations. It's an old old format, and only really works via a couple of blender addons or old modeling programs. Conversion from obj/fbx/ect to md3 can always be funky, i don't really know why, it just can be. Sometiems it works, or sometimes you need to model in md3 from scratch. i don't know how far i'm gonna go with that. I also played aroudn with getting sprite turnarounds of the characters. However, that's going to take it's own tech setup that i didn't give much time to today.

Overall, a pretty frustrating day, but i got alot more stuff in-engine and figured out mass naming schemes and so on. I can't say i've really solved any problem, but I'm gonna pretend noticing the problems is progress in-of-itself. So uhh, i dunno, hey do you wanna see Ariane's bathroom? god, poor girl, 20(?????) years in that tube and this is what she's got to work with.

(the blender scene is not mine, it was assembled by a very skilled person on the signalis discord. all credit goes to whoever did it, they're a godsend)

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Shreya A Cadwell

Published: May 7, 2022

One of the best movie characters I have seen portray PTSD symptoms is Charlie in “The perks of being a wallflower.” Throughout the movie, his silent suffering and disturbing symptoms affect his life quality and relationships. Charlie experiences several flashbacks and relives the trauma repeatedly with a racing heart. Scenes play on in the back of his head with memories that are so painful to remember that he has forgotten large parts of the whole story. He has suffered a series of unfortunate events during his life, something I can relate to, which made me develop PTSD myself. Today, there are many productions that display mental illness, “13 reasons why” is another example, and one of the reasons why mental health is more widely talked about than ever before.

In real life, PTSD is a diagnosis that often comes with great empathy from people around you. Known as a common stress disorder among veterans, it is almost like wearing a badge of honor in today’s society. Let me explain why this can become troublesome for us that live with a mental disorder.

The feeling of constant shame

It is lunchtime, and I am on the subway on my way down to the city core of Stockholm. I have carefully chosen a spot on the train close to the doors where I can see people from every train angle. I listen carefully to every sound around me, and every person that might look or act a little odd has my full attention. I can feel sweat running down my back.

“Does anyone notice how nervous I am?”

At the third station, a woman enters the train. She walks through the sliding doors and sits down with her friend in front of me. She is one of the people on the train that I find odd.

She wears a pair of black sunglasses and a black cap, and she holds her friend’s hand as she rocks her body slowly back and forth, seemingly nervous. It looks like she has a panic attack.

What struck me in this situation is how she acts out her stress in front of everyone and has her friend’s full attention the whole trip. She strokes her hand. They both have that look in their eyes,

“Can you not see that she is suffering?”

I know many people with severe disorders, from having one myself. We have one thing in common: the feeling of shame. Shame for what we have been through, guilt for letting it happen, and shame for letting it happen again.

When you feel this intense amount of shame for what you are, you are not so eager to show it in front of other people, not even in a group meeting with people who deal with the same feelings.

Most of us would not dream of putting ourselves in such a vulnerable situation where so many people publicly got to see our worst moments of fear.

No, we suck it up, avoid and hide.

We become chameleons in a society that praise people who are open with their imagined illnesses.

A mental illness is not a badge of honor. Many self-diagnosed people out there get to represent an illness they do not even suffer. There are many tests and articles online and a generation of social media awareness on mental health problems. That leads many to self-diagnose a severe illness, and we do not just diagnose ourselves but even the people around us. How many life coaches out there put up clip after clip on tackling narcissists?

Can we self-diagnose cancer?

No, and how do we feel about people who fake serious illnesses? We despise them. But you have to pretend many symptoms psychically for cancer and other serious diseases. It is easier to put on a spontaneous show of having an anxiety attack.

Yes, the woman on the train may have a mental illness. I can’t be the judge of that. Her behavior felt staged and didn’t align with how many of my friends act or how I operate. It was a bit too much of everything. We all show emotion and handle difficult situations differently. I respect that some people might act out that way, but I would not consider it the norm. Most of us want to fit in so well with the rest, so we act our way through situations or avoid them.

“Emotional numbing is a way for many to cope with life.”

It took me years to get diagnosed with PTSD and to get help. I felt that the health care system did not take me seriously when I entered the room at the therapist’s office. I managed to talk about what I had gone through in a civil matter. After meeting several therapists, I met the right one, who chose to look at my background and how my body reacts to situations instead of what I decided to show openly.

One of my first therapists wrote in my journal that I was in a very sane state of mind when talking and just needed a little help and support. Therefore I was not in such need of direct assistance. Today, I know it is called emotional numbing, a character trait for someone with PTSD. It is how I have learned to cope with what I have on my brain when adrenaline rushes through my system. That is how many of us who have suffered severe trauma copes with life.

The consequences of self-diagnosis

Although we have a greater awareness of mental health issues, our openness has helped destigmatize them. It has also affected people by attributing it to symptoms of imagined mental illness. A professional medical diagnosis is hard to obtain for a reason.

I believe that one of the consequences of a society where people now self-diagnose severe mental health disorders is that those who suffer for real do not get the help they need. It is more convenient for a therapist to take on patients who need a few meetings, a couple of pills, and then it is over and done. They are paid the same for that type of patient and a patient like me, with a history of multiple fallbacks and repeated trauma patterns.

Most of us who suffer from high functioning mental illness hide it pretty well, and the only ones who get to experience and suffer with us to some degree are often family members and partners. But all around us, our coworkers and friends use the complex word anxiety when they mean that they are stressed. Stress and low moods such as sadness or grief are normal and healthy coping mechanisms that are part of life. Anxiety is a deep-rooted rumination that something will go wrong, all the time and in every situation.

It enhances the feeling of isolation and loneliness you already feel because you are not coping on the same level as your friend who has self-diagnosed. All of a sudden, “everyone” suffers from anxiety. Everywhere you turn and it downplays the suffering you feel yourself.

Another problem with self-diagnosis is that it can prevent you from seeing the real issue, for example, an underlying medical issue.

“You do not have a monopoly on pain.”

Some happenings are part of life, which are such joint suffering for most people. Then there is the sudden or long-lasting trauma of an event that is so specific to you that it’s hard to get other people to understand the suffering and fear you’ve experienced.

To hear that you can be diagnosed with PTSD for going through a divorce or think you can because you experience some complicated emotions. It downplays the suffering of more complex situations where your life has been in great danger. It takes away the real struggle from those who are suffering.

The lines get more blurry for diagnostic requirements for mental illnesses that affect your daily life and it has severe consequences for us. Eventually, that can take us down a very dark path instead of staying put on the road to recovery.

Shreya A Cadwell is a writer with a particular interest in psychology, politics, and sociology. She is diagnosed with PTSD and, therefore, has a burning passion for how mental health reflects our society and how we live.

==

Self-diagnosis is much like blaming the devil for your failings, or blaming your astrology sign for your bad behavior.

Self-diagnosis is also the exact same thing as "self ID."

[teeth--thief]

I'm becoming quite interested in Chernobyl myself. Your Drive folder will be read with much adoration and appreciation. If you want an excuse to infodump, or otherwise tell a (likely less educated) person about Chernobyl, please take this as such. I would love to learn more, even if simply anecdotally. I'm sure it will spur research of my own. Apologies for stilted English.

Hi hi hello!! First of all: I'm so glad you're enjoying my Google Drive! It's being compiled with a lot of love and care, I'm very happy it'll be of use to you ♡

If you ever have any questions about specific things related to Chernobyl - don't be afraid to ask! If I don't know something already, I'll make sure to educate myself and get back to you ☆

I would LOVE to use this opportunity to tell you all about my favourite operator but I'm not going to - not unless I'll get asked about him specifically (Lyonya Toptunov did nothing wrong in his life, ever - source: me. Not even the "punching his tutor in college" bit. And that's because it's not even true. He's my special boy, case closed). I am mostly interested in the human side of things though, and will always look at things from that angle. But let's go with something more useful and interesting for most and let's keep it short and sweet today:

1. Which few books in my folder are the most important/best and which you should be careful to believe! Not every book I have in there is a good book. But every book is a Chernobyl book.

2. A little (speculative) something about the area surrounding the ChNPP

Must reads:

INSAG-7 - while it contains some mistakes, certainly less than INSAG-1, it's THE thing to read if you want to learn about the technical stuff.

How It Was - Dyatlov A.S. - but but but Hunter 🥺 wasn't Dyatlov The Big Bad? No. I'm sorry that the HBO's show and Medvedev's book hurt you in this way. I can get more into Dyatlov if anyone's interested but all in all, it's a solid book.

Chernobyl: A Documentary Story - Shcherbak I. - the most important stuff? Not in the English version. The translation is missing hundreds of pages of absolutely crucial witness statements... best course of action if you don't know Russian? Look up words/names in the original regarding things that interest you and throw them into Google Translate. It's unfortunate, I know, but it's better than nothing.

Midnight in Chernobyl - Higginbotham A. - everyone's favourite. Contains some mistakes - don't trust the technical parts, cites Medvedev (cardinal sin) but overall makes a great case for humanising the workers.

Be wary when reading these:

Chernobyl Notebook (aka The Truth about Chernobyl) - Medvedev G. - nobody from the nuclear field respects this dude. IIRC he got fired after working for a few months in ChNPP before it even started operation but went around claiming he was a worker at the plant. Go figure. Just makes up stuff. Doesn't have the technical knowledge to make half the claims he makes. Follows the (false) official government narrative (hmmmm I WONDER WHY).

Voices from Chernobyl - Alexievich S - too busy chasing her own biases to care about the people she interviewed, claiming they said things they never did or forcing their stories to fit her narrative. Yes, I know, everyone LOVES this one but it's really not that good.

Manual for Survival - Kate Brown - it's a good read, albeit the author takes a pretty anti-nuclear stance, repeating various myths about the nuclear power and radiation overall, seemingly for the purpose of fear mongering.

There are so so many more books worth recommending but I wanted to mention the most popular and important ones.

According to Kate Brown and her book "Manual for Survival", the area of Prypiat Marshes and wetlands was already mildly radioactive before the nuclear power plant wad even built. Apparently "the Soviet army tested strategic nuclear weapons, the small battlefield variety, in the Pripyat bombing range" which meant that radiactive isotopes where already present in the atmosphere, long before the disaster struck Pripyat.

While her evidence and sources for that are shakey, at best (I'm not a fan of the he said, they said stuff - show me a signed document and I'll believe you), it would certainly be awfully convenient to built a NPP close enough to the slightly radiated areas and call it a day. You could always say it was the plant that caused the unusual radiation spike and definitely not the tests they ran there years before the power plant was even in the building stage... but alas. It might not even be true, I haven't seen it mentioned anywhere else, if I remember correctly.

A third fun fact I'll throw in for free - I'm currently in the process of making a Chernobyl inspired shirt =D Maybe I'll show you guys, who knows...

[allwhilewaiting]

i woke up unsettled

almost in a panic. and i had to remind myself that i have tools now...

i have access to sit and reckon with myself in a way that i never have, all of which do not include running.

i have three decades of experience that assures me every problem has a solution, if only i am patient enough to seek it.

and because i know that now, there is no need to run from anything.

i can reflect. i can ponder. i can just allow and surrender so that i may traverse through all of my big feelings.

the big feeling of today is grief ...and a hollowness.

i have come to the realization that there is a lack of self regard, a toxicity, a dead end in my connection with moses. not only because he is he an ill-suited partner, but he is not even a friend to me if i'm willing to be honest with myself.

he is unkind. he is gaslighting. he is emotionally unaware.

and all of that weighs on me, it grinds at the core of my peaceful essence like a pestle and mortar. i can feel the stripping away of myself, my center, my loving heart with every action of offense and disregard that he offers.

and i have approached the situation from nearly every angle with similar results. i tried to talk to him. i tried not to talk to him. i tried to let him talk. and nothing is helping to soothe this sensation of irritation to my calm. so i decided once and for all that i'm going to have to fully release him.

i have to. for the sake of my own mental and spiritual health.

for the sake of my own growth and the manifestation of my actual loving and life-giving, light-bearing husband into my life.

moses is a block. and a test. now is the time to reckon with myself by facing the music.

it is a test of self-regard, really. what am i willing to let go, to keep myself? how thin am i willing to stretch myself before i realize that i'm self-sabotaging?

every man who didn't work out (except for 2) that i've met on socials since i made the decision sometime last year to reintroduce the idea of online dating (or simply friendship) has left me.

they either stopped responding to me, or i knew that there was no need for me to continue asking to connect because their energy read disinterested/indifferent.

this will be one of the few times that i made that decision for myself.

and it's not easy, because i value human beings. i see them for their dynamic complexity. not all bad. not all good. somewhere in the middle.

but my litmus test has been, if you are mostly bad most of the time, there is something really wrong that requires mediation. that mediation, if unsuccessful, then requires a response action. and that response action has been, unfortunately, undefined and not pursued.

generally speaking, i'm not much of a 'ghoster' by common standards. i like to talk things through and come to a decision. i've been known to write long text messages of departure. perhaps i will offer moses the courtesy of a letter for closure, for myself and also for him if by any chance he needs one.

i need to sort through my emotions first though and detox...so that i can be of sound mind and emotionally clear when (and if) i try to attempt closure. so for now i am going to have to be a ghost. i need to heal from the disappointment, i need to address the anger, i need to approach the reality that the man i hoped he was, he is not and likely will never be at his age. but more importantly, i'm unwilling to stick around and get knocked around emotionally to find out. i've got to get out of dodge while the going is good.

some people you just have to love from afar, and i will always wish him the best as i hope he does for me.

and that disappoints me. it even scares me [which is precisely the reason this has happened. to expose the underlying fear that i've historically suppressed with grit and resistance to the blatantly obvious...not him girl. this doesn't feel good. that's your sign.]

ok, at 30 i'm listening. i'm using all those 20 y.o. failures to ignite meaningful changes for my ascension now.

moses had to go. there's no way around that. and any of my mental 'but he xyz, abc, 123' is just my fear of being alone trying to override the obvious.

sure, i've got my own shit. moses helped expose some of that. so i'll take the meat, leave the bones.

this grief will have to sit with me awhile. and i'll nurture it [myself] with compassion and curiosity as the more loving parts of me are [re]born.

[kyrodo]

Things are a lot better than back then. It's not entirely because who I'm interacting with is better, though that's a factor too. I am handling myself a lot better in the world of today. I have that experience that only comes through failure. I've gotten hurt, I've gotten struck down, I've made enemies and those enemies left me face down in the dirt after they had their fun.

But through it all, I gained wisdom. Everything about me feels so different from back then. First off I'm not stomping about acting like I'm some "king" because of an anime amv. Right? But I know how to handle myself better. I don't have anything to test my mettle and poke my buttons necessarily, at least the ones that would irritate me on the same level, but that in itself is a good thing. I can't take back all the embarrassing things I used to put out, I can't take back all the times I tried to approach and be polite expecting things would go well only to find some unexpected difficulties time and time again. And I can't avoid all the teasing and crap that has already been done to me.

But I am built different now. I am built in a way that is unlikely to ever experience or allow those things to happen again. I am built in a way that tries to be as soft and as soothing as possible to the people I love. I am built in a way that kept my feelings hidden until the very last moment. I am experienced enough with language and slang to avoid triggering the wrong radars. And I am more careful about what I give out and what I keep in. It would've been ideal if it had happened at an earlier point in my life of course, but it's better that I got here than never at all. As vain as it is, I feel the beauty of my avatar. I can vocalize so well as a cat. And I keep evolving. The purrs just recently. And besides that I actually am more emotionally and intellectually mature.

The love I get from Choskey is so pure, inexperienced but true. And he just can't go two minutes without telling me he loves me again. And I am so happy. The feels are incredibly warm and welcoming. I wish all this had happened earlier in my life so I could've spent those days being happy instead of miserable and desperate. Secure instead of constantly being unsettled by attempts to unhinge me and make me doubt myself. The entire foundation of my existence feels set in stone instead of rickety. I feel that my words carry so much more weight now that I'm not on a lone quest for something outside my relationship. Being alone is what lets people get away with pretending every story you ever tell is fake. Facing cyber bullying alone without my dragon is how people were able to turn me into whatever villain they wanted. I had options, and while such needs are unlikely to happen again, if it ever came down to it I would know what to do.

I am the living antibody to my entire ordeal from every angle.

I also understand my tendencies when it comes to music and feel good animated scenes. When you experience something you really like, a beat, a riff, a melody, some nice singing, a good intro, etc. You want to feel that music in what you do too. You want to embody that music and express what you experienced in some way. For me that was in the form of creative ranting. Feeling a character forming somewhere behind the constant swapping I was doing in my head. Through music I was finding a voice. Because my old one was dull. The name Brian is very dull and boring. And I didn't want to be just Brian. I wanted to be Kyrodo. I wanted to be better than I actually am. Better than human. In a sense it's the same reasons people become furries or anime geeks with sonas. People want to be more than they actually are. To make cracks in the ground, perform action feets they wouldn't dream of doing in real life, do magic, whatever. People want to be lost in their imagination. And the more miserable they are the more they want that escape. Even if it means falling in love even over something as simple as, because they started sharing memes with me.

To dress up for halloween essentially but have that be an entire way of life instead. Like how I am always in whuffy form at home when I'm with Red instead of being just human brian doing all the formal fronting I do at a restaurant or at work. But imagination needs to be capped within reasonable limits, and one should always be aware what they're doing no matter how immersed they want to be in that imagination. No matter how silly or extra you act online nothing really changes who you really are in real life or otherwise. Until you've spent a good deal of time with a sona it is not ingrained as part of your very being. It is just a temporary fad at best. But such headspaces do play a major role in how you behave, no matter how stifled it is in practice. It dictates how situations make you feel and what choices are choices that sona would make become a preference.

And as you slowly bring that imagination back down out of necessity like I did, you eventually adopt what parts of it actually define you and you discard everything else. Trauma changes the way you're shaped. The way you respond to things. The way you approach things. The things you are most cautious of. Because you recognized a pain or fear as being particularly unpleasant, as being something you wish to avoid, and you change to protect yourself against it. And as one where a surreal version of myself is always existing in some form in my head, that headspace completely changed too. Less edges, more serious, more meaningful, more ordered, and less chaotic. More calm and immune to a lot of the things that used to bother me. Instead of being a mish mash of different characters I am just one. Both the real and the sona side of me grew to be something far stronger and far more graceful than my old self.

Being rejected isn't fun but it happens and it's better to respect it than to persist or keep coming back like I did. Words like "that won't be possible" still stick in my mind and they still hurt. I felt so much and it took way too long for me to finally have those feelings dismantled, even though I was actively being attacked and harassed by the very person I liked. But I did it. I remember every little thing I did that might've made me unacceptable. And I try with all my might to make sure all of that remains buried. If I am ever to be called a predator again, it'll be because of a kink than for any other reason.

In the land of today, poly is possible. Love is possible. I can feel and feel and feel and be extremely happy, and feel all of that welcomed and returned a thousand fold. Things are a lot less complicated.

I still experience my share of people acting like there's a problem when there's not. But it is much easier to tell when Choskey is joking about something and when he's not. And there's never any malice behind it. It is a whole world away from whatever we'd call my previous excuse for romance. Though I still wonder how people like you can just behave like that, know that all of it is bad shit, and not do anything about it.

[denimbex1986]

'“A few people laughed, a few people cried, most people were silent.” — J. Robert Oppenheimer in 1965, on the reactions from the people of the Manhattan Project after the world’s first nuclear detonation in 1945, the Trinity test.

1: DESTRUCTION

FLAMES WILL FLOOD THE FRAME. LIGHT TRAVELS FASTER THAN SOUND. THE SCIENTISTS WILL SEE THE BOMB THEY HATH WROUGHT. THEY WILL SEE THE LIGHT BEFORE THEY FEEL THE EFFECTS. THE SILENCE WILL HOLD AS FIRE SHOOTS TOWARD THE SKY AND OUT OVER THE DESERT. THEN THE THUNDER OF THEIR STOLEN LIGHTNING WILL RING OUT. ONCE IT HAS PAVED THROUGH PROJECT MANHATTAN, THERE WILL BE SILENCE FOR A MOMENT. THEN THE SCIENTISTS WILL CHEER, AND I WILL ONCE AGAIN FEEL TEARS FLOOD MY EYES.

2: creation

christopher nolan (“Inception”) begins “Oppenheimer” with an allusion to the ancient greek Titan Prometheus. this comes from the biography on which nolan bases the film: “American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer” by kai bird and martin j. sherwin. the Titanic title is reminiscent of mary shelley’s “Frankenstein,” alternately titled “The Modern Prometheus” — but while the latter likens its haunted scientist to Prometheus for the Titan’s creation of humanity, bird and sherwin compare the birth of the atomic bomb to when, as quoted in the film’s opening shot, “Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to man. for this, he was chained to a rock and tortured for eternity.” they chose the wrong Titan.

3: Preservation

When William Faulkner won the 1949 Nobel Prize in Literature, he gave a speech chiefly concerned with the state of art and internal conflict in the Cold War era of nuclear proliferation: “Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: When will I be blown up?” The end of everything — whether by war, climate or some other disaster too monstrous for comprehension — is too enormous to examine. I have tried, in a way — but the only way to contain eternal apocalypse is to view it through the eyes of a mortal. Could I start with the end of everything that I knew?

WE EXPECT THE CAMERA TO STAY FOCUSED, PULLING OUT TO SENSE THE SCALE OF THE EXPLOSION. IT WILL NOT HOLD TO JUST ONE APPROACH. IT WILL CUT AROUND EVERY WHICH WAY, EVERY ANGLE OF THE EXPLOSION IT CAN. THIS IS A SCALE THAT COULD NOT BE SENSED. NEUTRONS BOMBARD UNSTABLE HEAVY METAL ISOTOPES UNTIL IT DESTROYS ITSELF INTO LIGHTER ELEMENTS. THE DIFFERENCE IN MASS RELEASES AS ENERGY. THAT IS FISSION: A SMALL AMOUNT RELEASES, BUT IT WILL LINK AND MULTIPLY INTO ENERGY INCOMPREHENSIBLE — INCOMPREHENSIBLE UNTIL IT WILL BE UTTERLY ECLIPSED BY FUSION.

no, there’s this look in the university-era oppenheimer’s (cillian murphy, “The Dark Knight”) eyes before he is ever burdened by the bomb, constantly straining with all the stars in the sky and the quantum dances of the atoms they contain — it reminds me of Atlas, who was punished by the gods for his loyalty to the old order and tasked to shoulder the skies and the stars and everything else we claim to know anything about. later on, oppenheimer takes on the weight of his lover (florence pugh, “A Good Person”) in addition to the sky as he reads out another title from the Bhagavad Gita: “i am become Death.” that translation isn’t the most accurate, though. that passage refers to Time, less a destroyer than a decayer. in Titanic terms, the Lord of Time is Kronos, the father of the gods, who, after eating his children for fear of being replaced, was cut down to nothing by those very children. then there’s the Trinity test — named for a poem about the Christian Trinity favored by both oppenheimer and his paramour — and it is darkest just before the dawn. the bomb blots out the stars and summons the sun before their time and oppenheimer becomes Helios, the Titan of the sun, who was condemned to watch his lover die by being buried alive, even after he unearthed her and bathed her in life-giving sunlight, all as punishment for his infidelity. after the test, oppenheimer calls his wife (emily blunt, “Edge of Tomorrow”) of nearly five years. he can no longer call his lost lover, their final meeting two years ago, and her suicide a year after that. to become a Titan is to become a cautionary tale. this is where nolan fails.

Before I knew the true shape of the universe, my infantile brain read in some Hindu story that the world was supported by four elephants who in turn stood atop a turtle. Shivaji, Brahmaji, Vishnuji and all the other gods I read in the scriptural retellings and Amar Chitra Katha comic books were the ones who drove this universe forward, the ones who my parents once told me — to keep alive some of my childhood magic, reinforce my religious faith or maybe just to mess with me — was not mythology, but history. It was my father who put on the first NOVA documentary I saw as a primary school child, which detailed the incomprehensible size of the universe and how all of that could end. I couldn’t rip my eyes away. It worked on comparative scale; the subdivision that felt giant to my child body was multiplied into the suburbs, the suburbs into the city, the city into a state, the state into the country, the country into the continent, the continents into the planet, the planets into the solar system, the solar systems into galaxies, the galaxies into superclusters and all of that contained with a universe — a universe that could die from its own expansion, weight, entropy. That revelation dragged my head beyond the clouds, into the stars, and I have never left. There was a never-ending question I had to cope with: How could I live in a universe that I could not comprehend?

FUSION CREATES HEAVIER ELEMENTS FROM ITS LIGHTER COMPONENTS. THE DIFFERENCE IN MASS IS RELEASED AS ENERGY. THE ENERGY RELEASED IS GREATER, AND THIS PROCESS IS ACCOMPLISHED WITH THE LIGHTEST AND MOST ABUNDANT ELEMENTS IN THE UNIVERSE. THIS IS HOW THE SUN SURVIVES. THIS IS HOW THE SCIENTISTS WILL ADVANCE THE ATOMIC BOMB INTO A WEAPON WORTHY OF THE STARS — ALL TO TURN IT UPON THE EARTH. THE WEIGHT UPON THE TITAN’S SHOULDERS IS SO GREAT IT WILL WARP TIME UNTIL IT BREAKS, SO THE DIRECTOR WILL SPLIT AND CUT HIS FILM BETWEEN FISSION AND FUSION, BETWEEN MULTI-COLORED SUBJECTIVITY AND GRAYSCALE OBJECTIVITY, BETWEEN THE IMPLOSION OF PLUTONIUM AND THE HELLFIRE OF HYDROGEN — BUT HE WILL OMIT THE THIRD NUCLEAR FATE.

i don’t think nolan cares about j. robert oppenheimer. he can claim that he regards the scientist as “the most important person who ever lived,” but nolan’s film does not focus on the man, only the tragedy of Titanhood he becomes. in nolan’s continuous prioritizing of concept over character, there are very few singular people who matter. even if the actors behind them are exceptional, the scientists are stage props for the next atomic advancement; the politicians are mouthpieces to spout famous historical soliloquies; the women — the brilliant botanist-biologist katherine “kitty” oppenheimer and the sophic psychiatrist dr. jean tatlock — aren’t safe from the fate of nolan’s women, to be punished and put in the ground for the sins of his protagonists. but in “Oppenheimer,” nolan doesn’t need to care about individuals, about titles, about nations — because what’s at stake is the entirety of humanity and the world itself. the story is centered around not oppenheimer the Father, but his Son, the bomb and the Holy Spirts that haunt him. nolan cares only about the Trinities, about art, about where he sees himself in the scientist by what the director’s art has unleashed. “Oppenheimer” is a Trinity of Hollywood staples: the boundless business of biopics, the star-studded and cameo-crowded blockbusters, the hans zimmer- / david julyan- / ludwig görranson-orchestrated (“Interstellar,” “Memento,” “Tenet”) nolanic ballads. it collects contradictions in its factual fabrications, its negligible name drops, its auteurist inanities — but contradiction is how “Oppenheimer” achieves its most exquisite ends.

Come primary school, I was obsessed with books on black holes, relativity and quantum mechanics — at least the ones that my pre-teen brain could process, the ones that turned sci-fi into fact. I had wanted to be some scientist for as long as I knew: The dream was Peter Parker first, then a paleontologist and now a professor of physics. Come middle school, I prided myself on my obsession with the atom and my declaration to earn a doctorate in my chosen field — staring at the glowing, ionized helium trails of cathode ray electrons and the condensed cacophony of cloud chamber alpha particles for science fair projects. I learned about Occam’s razor that year — the idea that the simplest model for a phenomenon is usually the best one — and used it to cut my gods out of the universe, believing science was supreme to my sensibilities, that faith was belief without evidence contradictory to a rational world. Come high school, my goals were set on Harvard — ranked the top in the US for both physics and education — and so I returned to my elementary, atomic experiments: refining my research on cathode rays, solidifying my studies on semiconductor band gaps and enriching my understanding of electromagnetic administration over plasma. I wanted to do much more, but I was limited to high school science and told I could do more elsewhere to get where I was aiming. I put in the work: well-rounded extracurriculars, sports, APs. I sacrificed night after night of sleep to study until sophomore year. Then in the spring of my sophomore year, I was hospitalized. Among other things, I found out my body had succumbed to the stress of my science-centered schedule. It ulcerated my intestines. It bled me from the inside for months. I finished that year with my GPA and goals crushed, but beyond that, I had a new question to cope with: What do you do when the thing that made you feel alive — that solidified your soul among the stars — is part of what tried to kill you?

DECAY IS WHAT WILL FOLLOW THE EXPLOSION. DECAY CREATES AND DESTROYS THE SUBATOMIC TO ACHIEVE ITS STABILITY. DECAY ELIMINATES INSTABILITY FROM ELEMENTS BY EMITTING IT INTO THE UNIVERSE. DECAY IS WHAT WILL HAUNT THE ISLANDS, THE PEOPLE AND THE WORLD LONG AFTER THE LAST BOMB HAS BEEN DROPPED. DECAY WILL SEE THE TITAN CUT OFF FROM THE FILM TO SPEND THE REST OF HIS LIFE CRUMBLING UNDER HIS SIN, TO DIE FROM THE BODY PART WITH WHICH HE TALKED SO MANY INTO DESTROYING THE WORLD, THE VERY SAME PART THAT DEIGNED TO DECLARE HIM LIKE “VISHNU … HIS MULTI-ARMED FORM … THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS.” BUT EVEN AS HINDU DEITIES ARE OFTEN ASSIMILATED, SHIVAJI IS THE TITLE MOST ACCURATE TO THAT CLAIM. THE HINDU TRINITY AND BALANCE WILL BE BROUGHT AS THUS: SHIVAJI / THE DESTROYER / ATOM SPLITTER, BRAHMAJI / THE CREATOR / ELEMENT FUSER, VISHNUJI / THE PRESERVER / STABILITY SEEKER.

what came before humans or gods or Titans was Chaos. Chaos is what sinks the skies, smashes seconds and swallows the sun. Chaos is neutrons bombarding every which way to ravage a desert and an island nation of people. Chaos is what happens when cells stack their functions in such a way that the organism they create now seeks to fulfill its function in countless contradictory ways. Chaos is that contradiction, a physicist-politician-philosopher attempting to end war by igniting the atmosphere. Chaos is the contradiction of grayed-out, grueling objectivity and vibrant, senseless subjectivity. but within Chaos lies its master — the invitation to control it.

Come college, come my senior year, come mere months away from graduating with my first degree in physics. I have gone through the virtual hell of Zoom honors courses, been Stockholm syndromed into liking Python and overcome the intimidation of participating in research projects that now feel far more advanced than I could have once imagined. I had to quit the latter position last summer. There were schedule conflicts, but there was something else. Especially after the discovery of my disability, how the world changed and reality was exposed while I went from secondary school to college, my attempts at activism have implanted themselves in my identity. I found myself embracing faith more when I realized the world was never rational; I have since needed some semblance of it to keep going. I eventually found a path to my goals that didn’t gut me, but I remained conflicted in this new life. Beyond the existentialism, beyond that science-induced stress, I now cope with one more question, one for our burning world: If the Earth is ablaze, how is any action of mine that doesn’t fight the flames of any use?

THIS WORLD WILL NOT BE ONE OF DUALITY. THIS WORLD WILL NOT BE DIVIDED THROUGH BLACK AND WHITE, THROUGH THE COLORLESS AND COLORFUL. THIS WORLD WILL NOT EITHER LIE ON YOUR SHOULDERS OR COLLAPSE ENTIRELY. THIS WORLD WILL NOT ONLY BELONG TO EITHER MICE OR MEN, TO MORTALS OR TITANS, TO SCIENCES OR GODS. THIS WORLD WILL NOT GIVE AN ANSWER TO EVERY QUESTION, ONLY EXPERIENCE. THIS WORLD EXISTS IN TRINITY: IT IS WHAT ISN’T,

of what opposes by what IS

and the absurd arose from that contradiction.

THE FUTURE WILL BE DESTROYED

if we only create the present

because we wanted the past to be pointlessly preserved.

WE WILL SAVE OUR DAYS

when it takes all of time to justify for itself

for what had actually ever mattered.

WE WILL SHOUT AS LOUD AS EVERY BOMB DROPPED TO TOPPLE THOSE AGED, OPPRESSIVE EDIFICES.

we whisper those new quiet Constitutions into existence to better what we replace.

We have found our balance to advance the upheavals.

PROMETHEUS WILL NOT BE TO BLAME FOR BRINGING FIRE BECAUSE WE WILL BE DESTINED TO DESTROY OURSELVES AND WE WILL BE DESTINED TO NEVER LEAVE OUR CAVES

and we are destined for the flames and we are destined to burn beyond ourselves

and light was wave and photon and we could never know both the location and momentum of a quantum particle and everything was matter and everything was energy. I have beseeched thee, Prometheus.

I WILL HAVE MY FIRE BACK. I WILL HAVE THIS WORLD CRUSH ME FLAT, EVISCERATE ME WHOLE, BURY MY HEART

so i can learn to lift the sky myself, raise myself and restore my love because

maybe the term “mad scientist” was always redundant. The existential melancholy at the heart of “Oppenheimer” wasn’t just that we created the weapon to end the world, but that we peered into infinity at one of the most fundamental levels of our existence — the boundless energy of our most basic atomic constituents — and harnessed its power for destruction. But harness it we did. I wanted that bit of divinity that is my birthright by Brahmanji. In all of this chaos, I have only ever sought a self-centered semblance of control in the hopes that one day it could save people in some way, including myself. Scientists have a good idea how to save the world, but the selfish won’t listen. The scientists of the Manhattan Project thought they were able to save the world through their science, but maybe they didn’t listen.

SCIENCE, ART, SPIRITUALITY — THEY WILL DESTROY THE WORLD IF WE FORCE THEM

and they are saving it when we allow them.

My melancholy has served its purpose; there are only so many tears you can shed until you flood the world before the oceans. But I still weep at Trinity — whether that is the Trinity of Titans, mine or Oppenheimer’s — and I know I always will. I mourn what the gods, what science and what humanity has wrought upon the world, yours and mine.

THE ACTORS WILL LAUGH,

the audience remains silent,

someone had to cry.'

[audio-luddite]

Business as Usual.

The more things change......

I watched a Micheal Fremer "Tracking Angle" You Tube Tour of Audio Research Corp from a few days ago. As far as it goes it is business as usual there. A new owner has put in some cash and people are working. The offices are spacious and I wish I had such a nice place to work. They have a lot of stuff and it is a bit cluttered due to a recent move that was before the $$ trouble.

They do lavish things on their product, but nowhere near the level of that DartZeel company. Do you really have to laser etch the back panel labels? It takes minutes to laser carve the lines on a single meter display. Very careful assembly and much attention to detail.

They have a lot of parts in stock even from the old days. I may be able to get the right color code fets for my ARC SP14 if I need them.

In Contrast to DartZeel they actually assemble and test the circuits there in a large shop. I like that they tried an "Asian" supplier for transformers and even though they met the spec they sounded funny so they went back to NA supply and trashed the commie shit.

I wish that Fremer would refrain from whistling when he goes into idle mode. It is neither melodious or in tune. That is ironic.

At the level they work and sell they must have a certain look and feel and that drives much of the design. Their commitment to Vacuum Tubes is significant, which does disappoint me to a degree. There were some new bench prototypes he was told to not photograph. Lots of glass there.

That brings me to the second thing. The first is that they are still there up and running. The second thing is are still developing new designs. They have been making high end stuff since 1970. That is 53 years people. The key pieces of Preamp and Amplifiers have been down every design road I am sure. What are they looking for? OK DACs and CDs and all that stuff is newish, but the basic stuff is half a century of work by more than one very good designer.

McIntosh still makes the same stuff as when WoodStock happened. Though they have never been considered SOTA.

The TOTL of every ARC generation is usually the latest global SOTA benchmark. But why does the goal move? Does it actually move?

I have experienced closely three ARC products. Many more in stores, but in my home or other people's I have known three, all preamplifiers.

The first being the SP 3a1. It was lovely and rich like a really good chocolate mouse. (more on Chocolate later) Eventually and today it is considered bloated, even muddy and far from the best today. That was 1975.

About twelve years later I found and purchased an ARC SP12 which was first sold in 1985. It was relatively stripped down and it was my main machine for a LOOONNNG time. A full tube design, it had wonderful depth and space and was so nice to listen to. It was absolutely better than the SP3s but it did hide things in the fuzzy warm space. It was also a price point exercise.

Only a short time ago I got the ARC SP14 of 1990s vintage after a prolonged search. That unit has detail and resolution the SP12 could only dream of. I am certain that there is no more information to extract from my source as far as a preamp is concerned. That is 20 odd years of progress and probably improved quality of parts too.

My constant guiding star is this whole hobby is about preferences not some absolute goal. Part of the marketing is, I am sure, for builders to constantly up the ante, but are things getting objectively better? At some level it does not get better, only different without being bad.

Please recall that back in the 1970s solid state surpassed the perceived quality of the Vacuum for a time. Then it not so much came back as a fan base developed to cheer them on. That was ARCs market niche.

So corporate life goes on and I am glad as I like their stuff. They sound nice.

NEXT ITEM.

The Audiophiliac guy admitted to having a strong, call it, style preference. He likes things maybe for the wrong reasons?

Getting to the very bottom of this is he likes and does not like this preamp. It does not fit his preferences "the sound is not my bag", but it sounded more like he remembered a recording session he was at for some of the music he played. Kinda contradictory that. Clarity and detail are MY thing. If it had a phono for normal humans I might put it on my lottery jackpot list. Meitner makes a phono front end equalizer for the optical DS cartridge. Talk about commitment.

As far a his review he never stated the DAC he used for streaming, the phono preamp he used for the LPs, or the CD deck he used. He used several different amplifiers, and two different speakers and compared to two other preamps. Presumably all those other things did not contribute to the differences in sound.

It is apparent he likes richer meatier sounds, whatever that means. It is like him saying he prefers chocolate and does not care for lemon tarts, yet he reviews a lemon tart and kinda likes it. I suppose if you have similar tastes his opinions are more valuable.

There is a lesson here. Trust nobody but your own tastes and remember it is taste.

[frostbite-the-bat]

vent post where i overshare and complain about my life below because i wanna distract myself from studying because i'm having a hard time mentally motivating myself to do it !! yippie.

fucking hell only 2 days before my last part of finals and i REALLY dont feel like studying not only bc my mental health as of late aint been the best, my mood being bad today in general, but also just. really REALLY wanting to be over with it. to be over with it successfully i have to try, and i am trying quite hard, but man do i not want to. just a few pitiful days and im over with it. i'm feeling the same pressure as i did when i was about to do my first two finals... i've noticed i'm being a bit more distant in general aside from TRYING TO focus on studying (90% of the time im probably not doing much tbh)

and i just wish these finals were a bit fairer. we have 25 questions, right? well, it's a verbal test, we have like 20 minutes to speak to two teachers who **MAY** ask questions about it PLUS some official we dont know of. a stranger. and 20 minutes to prepare. oh, 25 questions? for that? sounds bad! well, it's only one question! sounds good, doesnt it?

well... you don't know which one you're gonna get. THANKFULLY we have the list of questions available to us - but we have no way of knowing what we may get. we have to prepare for literally anything, because if you slack studying even a singular one, you may get unlucky and that may be the one you're gonna end up stuck with. of course, they will ask questions to squeeze things out of you, and hint stuff...but i am just so worried i won't know. every time i study, there's a bit of something i just... skip over completely. i dont have the time or patience for it. it's too hard... and i spent too much time over working the other answers. like, really overworking on them, with pointless detail.

and that's the thing! we have to say as many details for this as possible... and for many of these questions i can honestly say i'm very confident about answering them! but... the rest, most of this, many of this... it's just so hard. it's too hard. i need to approach it from like... an angle of. just fill in everything a little bit. (forgot to mention, im working out each question in a google doc, as if i was answering it. i will then read through it and study it. re-writing things in my own words makes me remember topics better, and i often re-write a thing over and over for this same reason.)

and just... getting even a bit of something in so i feel fullfilled. but...in theory i should study what i don't know, which is what is so hard. i don't know where to begin. these questions are from all over the place....i always need so many confusing tab open just to answer one question - then close them and get stuff for the other question - but oops! the other half of it needs stuff from the previous ones, great...

and it's just a whole mess, and i am worried i may not make it. well...i did rather well on my actual finals. like, exceptionally well. better than i typically do. like, a B. i never ever get those grades. that's an excellent grade. even if i do not define myself by my grades, it feels good to know i did well on that. but...i know my verbal performance is bad... and for that, it was many topics in one test. okay, study a bit of everything and you're fine. but for this i need... a lot of detail for ONE THING. that i will not know what it'll be. and it's a BIG deciding factor on whether or not i pass.

and it SUCKS. i am so tired. not to mention i have been sleeping less to play games with friends, due to timezones, while attempting to manage my horrible attention span to attempt to study. at least...i am doing something? but i am afraid it won't be enough. it won't be valued. it won't be what i need. i am a person who values my breaks a bunch, and i need them. hell, even writing this was a bad idea as my hands are starting to hurt, making my entire self feel horribly exhausted. i wish i could write down those answers this quickly.

issue is the language barrier - i have managed to switch my thoughts to be mostly in english, and i am a native czech speaker. i really need to read things in czech a little bit more. but just...the motivation. the drive. here my drive is to express my feelings an annoyance, and just get it out of my system so i can focus better. but? for that?

a pointless test, where there is a big chance i will be given something i may be clueless about. i may panic and fuck everything up. and... after this. i do not know what i will do with my life. it's scary stuff.

i both wanna get out of here so i can truly be myself, but also, i have not been taught about life by my parents at all. i need them. even if i wish to escape from them and do what i want...do what i need to get better. glares at my dad. glares back at this post. i do not know how the world works.

i have zero plans. anything i'd want probably wouldn't go through - or they would tell me it's a bad idea, have comments on it, and i'd go back into my little shell again. i'm gonna need a job eventually, but i'd really like to see doctors or something first, because i'm like 99% sure covid from last year cause me to have chronic exhaustion (and probably pains? im in so much pain especially in my legs and arms so easily its unreal. i need to study this more) as well. i can't do shit for too long without spacing the fuck out and trying not to cry because of the pain. i perform badly. i am an anxious mess. however anything health related i ask about is met with "oh we don't need a doctor for THAT" or "oh, stop whining! this is what the real world is like. get used to it. don't sit down, you're so lazy. work hard."

and i don't plan on doing what my school taught me to do and fighting jobs is hard enough already. i am sure my parents won't mind supporting me while being unemployed for a while, but... i know that my dad will pressure me a lot. hell, he joked about it even years ago when my best friend got a summer job before me... and also my parents want me to work at their job. okay good might get nepo babie'd, but uh, issue is! that place works like crazy fucking **12 hour shifts**. i already die at like 4 or less hours of something. what.

and fuck i am so grateful to my friends for supporting me during these times... offering their own help. i am so glad. i am so happy. i could not ask for better people. but... i wish this was more available to me in real life. i am rotting my fucking brain online only because the only support i get is here... everywhere else i am unwanted. and i was never taught to ask for help. if i ever wanted anything...or asked for help. it was denied or ignored... they always say you can tell me anything, if there's trouble tell me, but then you tell them and...

all you get called is "you're so sensitive" "oh boys will be boys" "oh come on get over it" "you have to try harder than that". and!! man. it is hard. its so hard. i just wanna lay down... for a whole year....do nothing. hibernate all that time. have zero life worries... everyone has these, but. i hate that life played the cards to make it this difficult for me... and. a lot of it is invisible.

i hide it. i mask it. or it didn't pop up until now... nobody will believe me if i tell them these issues i am facing. it's not enough to need help for them. "there's others who face more pain and issues in their life than you" "you don't seem like you need it". constantly stuck...in this. it does require actual speaking out, yes...but if your whole life, you ask for the smallest things, and it's not delivered upon...you just learn to stop asking. you know who to not ask and who to ask. it's horrible.

not to mention some issues i can get in actual danger with if it comes out. like i don't know. me being queer? that's one of the main things holding me back this much.

like. once i am done with this school. these finals. if i pass them. i am done. i have no plans after. i am sure i will... find something. it wont be easy. but... ill have to do it. sadly.

no plans at all. how am i supposed to be motivated to do even such a simple task as studying when i know in the end it may not even matter... i hate all of this so much. i wish i wasnt this way. i hate these things about myself. i love being a wacky little weirdo, but. i wish the world was easier to live in. i hate all of this shit. i hate that this world is built to be hard for someone like me. especially since it's not seen as hard enough to most... it ends up making me feel even worse. it's not fun.

i just wish it was all easier. i wish that at least today i could do the things i want. but i dont get to it. it sucks so bad. i have like zero energy left and i have to push through. i have to. or else i wont pass. that will cause more issues... it's. horrible. sigh. i'll....i'll stop now. at least i got all these thoughts out of my brain. i am repeating myself. nothing is there. despite my low energy, and me ALREADY pushing myself a lot, it's probably the most ideal time for me to do something. so. i guess i'll try. only because i have to. i hate this. i'm so scared of the future...

[sweetmusingss]

I lit up the moment that you showed me the roses and my cheeks turned almost as pink as the flowers after you compliment. I bring them up to my nose, smiling softly as I smelled them. “They are beautiful, baby. Thank you so much. You are the absolute sweetest. I got two bouquets from my boyfriend in a week. I am the luckiest woman alive,” I smile lovingly at you before pecking your lips gently. “Let me just go put these in a vase quick and then we can get going,” I kiss your cheek gently, handing you the picnic basket, about to leave your room before looking back over my shoulder at you. “No peeking!,” I say before going to put the bouquet in a vase. I put them in my room since the guys have been teasing me about the flowers everywhere even though two of the bouquets I got this week were from them. I was overwhelmed this week with all the love and support I received in opening my clinic, so grateful for the people I had in my life.

Seb was about to look down into the picnic basket before you were telling him not to, jumping a bit in place. “Okay, okay, jeez! Bossy!” Seb smirked before following you, happy that you always loved the flowers. Seb loved buying you flowers, knowing you loved looking at them and you loved the colors too. He would buy you flowers every day if it didn’t break his bank... he never knew how expensive nice flowers could be. But you deserved it, even if his bank account was a bit sad afterwards. “Can you give me any hints into where we’re going today, princess? Because you look far too cute, I kinda want to just cuddle you up in your big pink bed and ravish you all day, to be quite honest....”

__

Frank was a complete blushy mess as you called him cute and you were almost babying him by holding his drink for him and even angling the straw towards him. You had no idea just how much of a weakness he had for that and it was fun to give into his kink that his past girlfriend had thought was ‘weird’. He sipped at the drink before looking back at you, his eyes slightly darker after you tugged on his hair so hard. He groaned lowly before sliding his hands down a little lower but still not completely on your ass, testing you and wanting to make sure you were okay with what he was doing. “You have my consent to do whatever you’d like to me, too. I can take it,” he says a little darkly, staring incredibly intensely at you. “You are so beautiful.. I am sure you hear that all the time though,” he said, continuing to blush a bit. He was a complete mess underneath you, not having felt this many butterflies in a very long time.

“I am sure you can take it, Frank... I bet you’d be so good for me.” I keep one hand in his hair while my other hand comes up to cup his jaw, running my fingers along his stubble, actually desperate for our alone time in the private room. I didn’t know what was going on with me right now but all I knew was that I wanted to make Frank feel good, that was the most important thing to me right now. I blush as he calls me beautiful, that not often being the adjective that people used while describing me, especially here at the club. “That’s so sweet, thank you. You’re quite beautiful too. So damn pretty.” I move my hand from his hair to bring his glass back up to his lips, giving him a sweet smile as I angled the straw towards his lips, knowing that he was definitely a sub, not sure if he knew it about himself yet.