#and sure that quote is a product of its time

[shaded-night]

The Price of Gift Giving

There are many things Aventurine can pride himself in. He has no shortage of talents that have gotten him as far as he has. However there are still a few things that he cannot wrap his head around. When it comes to love and showing his affection, Aventurine fumbles more often than not, even with his heightened emotional intelligence.

Now, he isn't sure what exactly he had done this time around, but his beloved Doctor seems to be frustrated with him. So here he is standing in one of the most luxury malls in all of Pier Point trying to pick out the best gift as an apology. He knows Ratio isn't big on material luxuries but as Aventurine eye's a beautiful fountain pen, he can't help but throw his card down. He pays extra to have it engraved with an owl face -the same one that adorns Ratio's shoulder- and a quaint but sweet quote, "For my Beloved Veritas". Aventurine feels confidence flow through his veins as he becomes a couple hundred thousand credits lighter. The pen is packaged nicely, the engraving hidden from view so he can surprise his boyfriend even more.

When he returns home, Aventurine can here Ratio in their shared study grumbling to himself as he no doubt marks another students paper as inadequate. Aventurine braves a smile as he tucks the small gift into his coat pocket and quietly enters the study.

"I'm home~. I see you're still working hard. Do you have time for a short break?"

Ratio sighs, sparing Aventurine a quick glance before his eyes setting back on the stack of papers .

"Unfortunately I'm on a tight deadline. I did mention to you earlier that I'd most likely will be busy all day." Ratio's voice held clear annoyance, but that's fine. Aventurine's smile faulters for only a second.

"Yes I remember you saying that. Sorry, I just don't like seeing you over work yourself."

Ratio only hums in acknowledgement as red ink fills another paper.

If Aventurine just stands here any longer he's sure to be kicked out, so to not waste anymore time he fumbles to get his gift out of his pocket.

"I have something for you." He places the box neatly on the desk, and Ratio pauses to look at it. It's not hard to guess its price, the name of the store was printed clearly on the lid. Aventurine can feel the annoyance radiating off of Ratio as he narrows his eyes at the package.

"Aventurine," said mans smile drops; Ratio never calls him that at home. "While the thought is appreciated, we've talked about your frivolous amount of gifts before. No matter how deep your pockets are, always spending isn't a good lifestyle. Honestly, is drowning me in expensive products the only thing you can do?"

It shouldn't hurt because Ratio is right; they have talked about Aventurine's unhealthy spending habits. Still, he had no issue buying anything that he thought Ratio may like. And that's what made his confidence crumble. His eyes stung and his voice was stuck in his throat. Ratio was looking at him, almost expectantly, but Aventurine couldn't form any words.

Instead he turned around, silently leaving the room. It felt humiliating standing there under his boyfriend's scrutinizing gaze. Maybe he deserved it for being inconsiderate of Ratio's thoughts on luxury goods. That was the only rational conclusion he could come up with.

~*~ When Ratio had finally emerged from the study, it was well into the evening. Aventurine could hear him in the kitchen getting himself his share of dinner Aventurine somehow managed to put together just a hour prior. He had the catcakes to thank for pushing him to get food in him. The last few hours he had just been curled up under a blanket on the couch while the snacks meowed at him sympathetically.

Eventually the noise in the kitchen died down, and was replaced with the couch dipping under Ratio's weight. Aventurine didn't move from his place under the blanket.

"Vasha," a hand fell onto Aventurine's shoulder; and maybe he's just a little too weak because a second later he wrapped himself tightly around his boyfriend. "I would like to apologize, my love. I shouldn't have been so insensitive to your gift."

Aventurine closed his eyes, letting his head fall against Ratio's chest.

"I just wanted to make you happy. I know you've been overworked lately...and I know I can't help with that kind of work. I know I said I'd work on my spending. So I guess I'm sorry too."

Fingers thread through his hair and a kiss is placed on his head.

"Change doesn't happen overnight, and I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you. You are far more valuable than any gift, Kakavasha."

Ratio shifts and pulls the giftbox from his pocket. It was still unopened, but Ratio swiftly untied the bow around it and removed the lid. He picked up the pen, admiring the pretty swirl of blue and white along its body and it's gold accents. His thumb ran over the engraving and Aventurine feels a smile against his temple.

"It is quite a lovely pen. Thank you, Vasha. I will treasure it always."

~*~ inspired by this twt post~

rtrn is so stupid i love them

[buckbuckleybegins]

I know everyone wants gay eddie (or bi or demi or whatever), but do you guys think there is a chance they pull a Ianto from Torchwood for him?

“It’s not men. It’s just him. It’s only him.”

[rolandkaros]

"i had no doubt she'd make it to the final. it only depended on me if i was going to make it. i really wanted to have this battle and decide everything on court. i was sad that she lost." so anyways. i'm going to launch myself into the ocean.

[parfaitblogs]

(totally not based on my day) but a simple request for spencer helping reader out with a bunch of chores bc she's overwhelmed with life and she decides to thank him with like the quote "best head of his life" and he's like "its okay you dont have to do that" and she's responds "but i am anyways"

it will come back ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid helps you when you're (very) overwhelmed, and you might need to return the favour.  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort & smut (18+ mdni) tags: oral (m receiving). praise. established relationship. reader's overwhelmed overstimulated overworked... very enthusiastic head giver!reader. use of honey and angel. they love each other a lot. i love them a lot. i don’t think there’s d/s dynamics but if there are it’s soft dom spencer (nobody’s shocked). word count: 3.1k a/n: thank u sooo much for reading my brain ily i need to give spencer reid head asap. new format/layout for requests sort of its the same as my normal post layout... do we like... i sure freaking hope so. as always lmk if u liked this or even if u didn't but preferably if u did!!

You were exhausted. For three weeks straight, you had been working nonstop, with a wondrous total of eight hours in between shifts. You were hardly sleeping, you had hardly had a social life, hell, you never even had time to enjoy the simple pleasures of an everything shower. You felt groggy, and cramped, and everyday felt like an awful repeat of the last. A nightmare that never ended. 

Never mind the fact that you hadn't seen your boyfriend.

Always home too late to be with him in the evenings, and up too early to get coffee with him before your days started. Spencer was so patient with you, regardless. He knew it would end eventually, and he would get his girlfriend back. It was just for the month, was what you would text each other whenever the other began feeling particularly lonely. He didn't even like texting, but the time for a simple phone call wasn't available to you anymore. 

And your apartment. Every time you stepped into it you swore a new dirty dish materialised in your sink, or a new pile of clothes sat themselves in your bedroom floor. Which was odd, because you had rotated between the same two outfits for the last eighteen days — your work uniform, or your pyjamas. 

You were overwhelmed with it all. Even as your hectic work life came to an end, and you were waking up to the sunlight pouring into your room, instead of an alarm clock while the moon was still up. You were acutely aware of the mess of your apartment, and just the thought of it all left you lying motionless in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

Tears stung your vision as you felt the seconds tick into minutes, and nothing happened. Attempting to will yourself to get up, and yet you simply couldn't. Exhausted beyond belief, with limbs sinking into the mattress and melding to the sheets. 

You faintly heard the click of your front door lock, and if you had any more motivation in you, you'd probably get up to double check it was the only other person who had a key to your apartment, and not a burglar. Thankfully, you didn't have to, for Spencer was calling out your name, gently.

Too exhausted to even reply and alert him of where you were, you lay still until he had found you in your bedroom, his bad dropping by the doorway, feet shuffling against the rug. 

"Good afternoon," he said, finding a seat on the edge of your bed, hand resting atop your thigh, gentle circles being rubbed into the skin. 

"Is it already afternoon?" you asked him, voice quiet. 

"Yeah. How long have you been awake in bed?" 

"I don't know," you answered, voice awfully small as you felt the thick weight of frustration with yourself blanket over you. "I need to get up. The apartment's a mess."

"It's allowed to be," he said. "You've been doing sixteen hour days."

"Yeah, but I'm not today. I have the day off."

"Your first day off in weeks. I'd be concerned if you'd spent it productively."

You stared at him, unsure if the irritation that settled in your bones was because of his insistence that you not doing a thing was okay, or your exhaustion. Logically, it would be the latter. You did know that, deep down. 

Upon seeing your eyes delve into something a little more desperate, he sighed, hand sliding up to your own, gently tugging you up into a seated position. His eyebrows knitted together at your exhausted look, and you could see his brain ticking behind his eyes.

"Do you want to split the tasks?" he finally asked.

"You don't have to," you shrugged your shoulders. "It's my mess."

"Honey, you're already overwhelmed, and all you've done is wake up," he answered, thumb drawing circles on the top of your hand that he still seemed to have clasped within his own. "Let me help."

"It's really gross."

"I've seen mutilated dead bodies."

"I'd argue my kitchen sink is worse."

"Oh would you?" his eyebrows shot up, lips twitching in amusement, that you found solace in, distracting you slightly from your overstimulated mind. "Do you want to have a shower?"

"Yes," you nodded your head, brain ticking over all the personal hygiene tasks you had been neglecting over the past few weeks. 

"How about you go shower, I'll start cleaning up, and you come join me when you're feeling better?"

Despite your aversion to anybody but yourself tackling the mess of your apartment, you knew better than to deny Spencer any further — he had set his mind on helping you. 

Sighing, you nodded your head in defeat. He had coaxed you up off the bed, gotten you to the bathroom, even found you a fresh set of clothes to wear, and waited with you for the water to warm up. It was really only once he was absolutely sure you had gotten into the shower, did he leave you be, and disappeared from the bathroom. 

Eventually, the apartment had been cleaned, with efforts from the both of you getting it to where it now was. 

You were a lot less exhausted, and your brain was a lot less fried now that you didn't have a million tasks catalogued within it to get done. 

You were lying in your freshly made bed — courtesy of Spencer. Your head on his chest, fidgeting with one of his hands as he used the other to wave around as he rambled about something you were no longer following. It had started as a simple explanation for why you had been so overwhelmed in the first place. Which you had asked as a rhetoric, but didn't have the heart to stop him when he began explaining. 

"You're not listening, are you?" he asked, free hand poking your side and emitting an involuntary laugh from you at the feeling. 

"I am, I am! I'm just not following anymore."

"Sorry."

"It's okay," you replied, turning and poking your head up to be level with his. "I like hearing you speak, anyways. Doesn't matter if I don't understand."

He only hummed as a response, and the two of you stared at each other for a beat, before you were breaking out into a smile. 

"Hi," you chirped. 

"Hello," he answered, perhaps a little too amused by your sudden energy. "Would you like something?"

"A kiss?"

"After all that labour I just put in for you?" he mused, but he was already lifting his head to brush his lips against yours, and was most certainly not pulling away when you eagerly connected them properly. 

You pulled back after a few moments, searching his face. "Do you want something for all that labour?"

His hand trailed up your spine, fingertips triggering a shiver to run up your back. "What do you have in mind?"

"I could give you the best head of your life."

He was clearly not expecting that as an offer, perhaps because you never had offered such a thing before. It wasn't even something you had talked about, which was bizarre (in your mind), considering he was quite enthusiastic about using his mouth on you. 

"You don't need to do that," he shook his head, but with how close your faces were, you could see the instant dilation in his pupils. 

"What if I want to?" 

"Then that's very nice of you, but my point still stands," he replied.

"Spencer, let me do something in return," your voice was nothing short of a whine, and if he was any less turned on, maybe it wouldn't have made his firm footed denial falter. Maybe you knew that.

"You could do anything but that."

"So a handjob?"

"Or that."

"You're such an awful liar," you huffed. "I can see your pupils dilating. I know you're turned on by the thought of it."

"It could just be because I'm looking at you," he answered, voice hoarse, no doubt from the arousal he was attempting to deny was there. "Romantic attraction triggers the same response in our hormones."

"But it's not."

He fell silent for a few moments, before he allowed his resolve to slip, shaking his head in agreement with you. "No. It's not."

"See! It's okay if you want it. I'm quite literally offering myself to you," you spouted. 

His eyes fluttered shut, and he exhaled through his nose, words coming out through almost gritted teeth. "That's not a sentence you should be saying."

"Why not?"

His only response was to say your name chidingly, and when he reopened his eyes, he was met with the shit-eating grin on your face. 

"Brat," he mumbled, lips seeking yours once again.

"Who gives really good head," you hummed against his mouth. "And would really love to show you."

"If you're insisting—"

"Which I am," you quickly interjected, staring back at him as yet another amused smile stretched across his lips. Then, he was nodding his head, and you were quite cheerfully kissing him all over again.

It wasn't that you kissed him with much fever at all — in fact, you were melting into his lips with a gentle hum. It was simply that he was kissing you back with a desperation you should be accustomed to. You weren't. 

Every kiss you received from him always felt like he was chipping away at your soul, claiming a piece of it. Maybe he was.

You mewled when his teeth nipped at your lower lip, and he was quick to take the opportunity of slipping his tongue into your mouth. Though, alerted by his sudden control over the situation between you two, you reluctantly pulled your face away from his before it could go much further. 

"Excuse me," he breathed out, scoldingly, only to be met with your hundredth grin of the day as you descended down his body. He'd take it — you smiling, albeit cockily, was much more rewarding than the concerned look you had been sporting for the majority of the afternoon. 

"I don't do this very often," you told him as you lifted your gaze to his, absentmindedly tugging his pants down his legs. 

"I hope not. You've never done it for me, and we've been together for quite a while."

"You know what I mean," you grumbled, and he was forced to poke his tongue into the inside of his cheek to keep the smile off his face. 

"Is this comfortable for you?" he then asked, having noticed your constant adjustments of your positioning between his legs. From nerves or comfortability, he didn't know. 

"Um. I guess so," you replied. "I've never done it lying down."

"We can do it however you prefer to do it, angel."

"Oh. Okay. Cool," you mumbled, sitting up straight and grabbing his hands within your own, tugging him over towards the edge of the bed. 

You sank to your knees on the rug, tapping his knees with your hands to part them so you could situate yourself comfortably between them. 

You were a vision if he'd ever seen one, and you weren't even doing anything. Perhaps you had noticed the effect you had on him, or maybe you were just largely enthusiastic about doing something for him, and only him. 

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips, eyes flickering up to meet his face, and if this was the last sight he saw before he died, he would have no complaints. 

"Have you ever gotten head before?" you mumbled, eyes fixated on him as your hands trailed up the sides of his thighs, resting at the waistband of his boxers. 

"Yes."

"Okay," you whispered, quietly, tapping his hips so he could lift them, and you rolled his boxers down his skin.

"Okay?" he parroted. 

"Okay," you confirmed with a nod of your head. "I just wanted to know if this is going to be completely new for you or not."

As you spoke, your fingertips dragged along his inner thighs, lips following soon after, kissing up the skin. 

"I don't think that's going to matter, honey," he answered, voice breathless. 

You smiled, not needing to ask what he meant. You lifted your head back up, studying his face. He gave you a nod, a silent confirmation to allow you to go further, and you took a beat to compose yourself. It's not like he would be mad at you if it sucked, but you had had a far too awful day to not do something good. 

You hadn't done this in a while, it was true. So your hesitance came more from your brain figuring out what it actually needed to do, than your insecurities (they were there too). 

Insecurities that melted away within an instant, for Spencer's thighs tensed beneath your hands that were now holding them apart the second your lips made contact with his cock, and through your lashes you could see his head tipping back. 

Your cheeks warmed at how easy it was to get him to respond, and you wondered if the satisfaction settled in your chest was anything similar to how he felt when he did this to you. 

You started hesitant. Gentle kitten licks at his tip that probably shouldn't have been garnering such a large reaction from him. But it was, and you had to preoccupy your mouth to keep the smug smile off of it. 

Wrapping your lips around the head, he lets out the breathiest moan you think you've ever heard come from him, and your mind goes hazy. Newfound blind confidence wills you to take more of him in your mouth, and it's a quiet 'Fuck' that compels you even further. 

In hindsight, he knew he'd enjoy it. It was you after all. He knew from the world shattering arousal that the simple sight of you on your knees was. He had, in a few short seconds, mentally prepared to enjoy this.

But not this much, and certainly not this quickly. 

"I've been too selfless," he muttered as you lifted your head back up, tongue licking a stripe up the underside of him as you did. When you met his gaze in question, he added, "I mean never asking you for this. I should've."

You hummed as a response (it was all you really could do), and the gentle vibrations shot heat throughout his body. A shuddering moan rocked through his body, and if not for your quick response time in pushing his hips down, they would've knocked against your face when he bucked them up.

You hollowed your cheeks, lowering your head back down, and emitting the loveliest of moans from Spencer, whose hand found its way to your hair. Upon the lack of your protests, he made a loose ponytail with his fist, gently tugging on it upwards so you could lift your head. 

You flattened your tongue on your ascend, successfully making his already weak grip on your hair go slack, within only seconds of him having grabbed it. Swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, his hips bucked up again, and you flinched. 

"Jesus—fuck, sorry, honey," he rasped, though his guilt was quick to dissipate as he saw your thumbs up against his thigh. Your movements weren't hesitant, anymore. Just slow. Tortuously slow. "Can I..." he trailed off, seemingly becoming unsure of what it was he was asking of you within seconds, but the retightening of his hand in your hair gave you all you needed to know. 

You nodded your head the best you could, and he mumbled a quiet 'thank you', allowing you to set a base pace, before taking over. 

"So good. Jesus Christ, angel. Where did you learn this? Don't answer that. Don't tell me. Shit." 

His rambling was sharp sentences, that didn't really sound like they belonged together, and certainly didn't sound like they should be coming out of his mouth. They weren't the most articulately structured phrases he's ever come up with. A thought that comforted you, because you were doing that to him. 

"Fuck," he breathed out, once more, and you came to the mental conclusion you've never heard him swear so much in his life. The thought made your stomach flip.

Fingers dug into your scalp, though not too harshly to hurt. In fact, you were letting out a quiet moan of your own at the feeling, hips wiggling. Even in his state, Spencer noticed, and he smiled.

"You—ah—okay, angel?" he asked you, and you relished in the fact that he couldn't get out sentences without moaning. 

Your response was yet another hum, and he was bucking his hips. Again.

You knew he was close for a multitude of reasons; the fact that he had quickened his gentle-turned-firm guidance of your head, his fingers tugging on your hair a little harsher than before, and the ever so lovely, "Jesus Christ—please—oh," leaving his lips, breathlessly.

It was a few more moments of that, before the fingers in your hair went impossibly tight, and the muscles in his thighs locked beneath your hands. 

The fact you had never discussed doing this, meant neither of you knew the other's stance on what to do. Thankfully, Spencer was rendered so frenzied that he couldn't do anything. 

It was a sickeningly lovely sight; you pulling back and swallowing, some of his come painting your bottom lip. His fingers twitched, before they dropped back to the mattress on either side of his body, his chest heaving just as much as your own. 

Lightheaded, you slowly brought yourself back up to your feet, and Spencer's arms were quick to wrap around the backs of your thighs, pulling you into him. 

"Best head of your life?" you asked, lowering your lips to brush against his. 

"By a mile," he replied. 

"Just one mile?" 

"Maybe two."

Shooting him a glare, you huffed, and he laughed. "You're never getting head again, then."

He nipped your lower lip. "Okay."

"I'm putting my foot down," you retorted, disliking his lack of belief in your words. "Never again."

"I believe that."

"You should."

"Oh, I do," he hummed, sarcasm in his words making you frown. "Are your knees okay?" 

If his goal was to distract you, he succeeded, for your eyes were instantly dropping to your knees, indents from the threads of the rug evident. 

"They're okay," you confirmed, squirming as his thumbs rubbed circles into the skin on your thighs. 

"Tell me if they're not," he instructed, and you nodded. He stood up, hands sliding up to your waist. "Shower?"

"Shower," you confirmed with a nod, despite the fact that you had showered only a few hours prior. "Can we watch a movie after?"

"Yes."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[prosciuttulipa]

Period Pain, Go Away

how the JJK men help you through your period

content: afab reader x jjk men, just fluff this time! brief dirty joke in Toji's one (because he's Toji), but every one of them is a good boi in their own way <33

a/n: on my period and am in much pain v_v i can't decide who i want to comfort me, so i'm writing for all of the men i want

Gojo Satoru who isn't just your boyfriend during your period, but a "girl's girl". He wants to spoil you with desserts and eat the leftovers that you can't finish, do face masks with those cute cucumber slices over the eyes. You want a bath? He's already drawing one, dunking in bath bombs till the water looks like a small galaxy, putting on your comfort show so you can watch it while you soak.

Dealing with pain through fun and smiles has always been his way of coping. So, yes—maybe he does look a bit silly, gossiping with you while you paint sparkles onto his nails, his hair tied up with a pink scrunchie. But what's a boyfriend for, if not to be your Ken doll during your time of need?

It hurts him more than he likes to admit, to see you wince at a bad cramp, or come out of the bathroom with the colour drained from your cheeks. When you can't manage anything more than lying in your bed, he'll rest his head against your stomach, peppering kisses wherever it hurts. "Be good to my girl," he'll jokingly threaten your uterus, poking your tummy gently, "she deserves the world."

Geto Suguru who knows your period is coming before you do. Your irritable mood and food cravings clue him in, and he takes action without saying a single word.

The day your period starts, you realise that the feminine products you usually use have been fully restocked without your notice. The fridge is filled with your period cravings, enough to last a week. Before you can even say anything, a large hand wraps around your waist and presses a hot water bottle against your abdomen. "Good morning, princess," he greets you like he hasn't just pulled off what can only be described as a small miracle, "is everything to your liking?"

You don't know whether to laugh or cry at how perfectly he's predicted you. He's a step ahead of you throughout your entire period, knowing which snack or act of affection you want just by your expression. Some might call his behaviour unreasonable; frankly, he thinks it's bullshit. "Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the same thing as prayer," is what he quotes, when you ask him why he's so observant. "What makes you think I do not absolutely and utterly worship you?"

Nanami Kento who is obviously written by a woman, and so does not flinch when he sees the blood on the bedsheets when he wakes up earlier than you. Instead, he kisses you good morning till you're giggling, distracting you so you don't get a chance to see the stains. He changes the sheets while you're in the bathroom, throwing them in with the rest of the laundry. When you come back out, worrying you dirtied the bed, he merely shrugs. "I didn't see anything, darling."

He treats you like a queen on the daily, but during your period, you're his empress. Each word is law, each action his cue to immediately come to your aid. He'll cook every meal, and won't let you hold the spoon to feed yourself if he can help it. As far as he can see, your only responsibility this week is to lounge around, and let him spoil you rotten.

He thinks it's a crime that you still have to go to work, when you have to pop painkillers with your breakfast just to make it through the day. "I can take care of you, you know," he'll inevitably murmur, kissing the shell of your ear, "I make enough money to support us both. Take the day off, dearest. They don't need you more than I do."

Toji Fushiguro who manages to piss you off on the first day of your period. "What size pussy you wear?" he calls to ask, when he's picking up your feminine products at the corner store, "gotta make sure I take care of that kitty for all the squeezin' she does on me."

When he gets back home and finishes getting an earful on how you're more than just his pocket pussy, he apologises by scooping you up in his arms. "You know you're more than just a good fuck, doll," his words carry a rare sort of honesty, coming from him. "You're a good woman. My woman. Gun's in the second drawer, sweetheart—shoot me if I ever do wrong by you."

His touches turn softer, the smack to your ass replaced with a squeeze on the hip, kisses on your shoulders. He's got a hand on you at all times, just rubbing idle circles against your stomach or lower back to soothe your cramps. When bedtime comes, he makes you lay on your tummy, massaging away the tension in your muscles until you're all nice and pliant. He may not always know what to say, but he'll be damned if his actions make you feel like he doesn't love you.

[metamatar]

i have a question and sorry if it sounds incoherent. why is it so important to marxists to distinguish that marxism is not “moral” or “ideological”? i understand that marxism is grounded in historical materialism and that it aims to understand how existing structures and institutions function with the specific goal of abolishing them in favour of a marxist state, but when it comes to understanding how to move forward past capitalism, how can MLs claim that it’s entirely objective and scientific? isnt the fundamental purpose of marxism (abolishing the oppressor class and putting the proletariat in power) a subjective one, given that it to support that you need to believe that abolishing the oppressor class is desirable in the first place? how would ML “scientifically” help people decide where the line is drawn on subjects like the death penalty and incarceration if its committed by a communist party (given that the decision that the cost of killing/imprisoning people is worth the boon it would give in establishing a communist state is still based on subjective goals?)

i don't think modern marxists should claim they're not ideological. im sure some do, but imo the correct claim is marxism is not idealist. i think some of this confusion comes from a popperian view of science as "neutral" or "objective" outside of time. how the political economy affects the propagation of ideology and the process of science as practiced in reality is very standard marxist analysis now. some of the claim to objectivity is something that most people claim belongs to their favourite philosophical project see the rawlsian veil of ignorance in liberalism. marx is also writing in a world where theological and religious reasoning have a lot of primacy in philosophy and he is drawing a clean break from that by hewing to scientific characterisation of his methods.

idealism, in the kantian sense is a philosophy that argues that our ideals (about say, fairness, justice etc) inform how we organise society. marxism, as philosophical project develops in response to kant and hegel to argue that the political economic base, ie the productive relations of society actually inform superstructure of ideals. to quote marx in the preface to critique of political economy: "it is not the consciousness of men that determines their existence, but their social existence that determines their consciousness."

for clarity's sake the idea that changes in the mode of production (mostly due to technology) transform the relations of production which is the main driving force of history is historical materialism. the analysis of why existing structures and institutions must be abolished therefore has to be grounded in analysis where such structures are considered variously – unstable, internally contradictory etc. if you view historical materialism as true, your theory of change cannot be that you'll change the world because it is unfair (an idea.) you can view the world as unfair as a marxist and talk about it to propagate the necessity of your project but that doesn't actually give you a blueprint on how to change it.

capitalists are oppressors, but marxism doesn't view the problem in their oppressive or evil natures. capitalist economies demand even the most moral capitalist to exploit the proletariat. but! it is desirable to abolish there class relations not merely because they are unfair and exploitative but because these class relationships cause workers to develop class consciousness, recognise their power and abolish capitalism.

on your specific example, i don't think marxism can or should claim their are no moral dilemmas. historical materialism doesn't assert that there are no conflicting understandings of history. walter benjamin's theses on the philosophy of history is imo good reading here.

so i dont think your concern about why it's important for marxists to believe this makes sense, because this is what marxism is. if you don't find this convincing, you're not a marxist. you could be an anarchist, or a social democrat or a radical liberal.

[itstatartdump]

So like most people on here I had been watching Watcher since they started their channel, and like most others I was surprised/concerned at the announcement that they're starting a streaming service. After checking out the site and looking close at their YouTube, this feels destined to fail.

I'll go through my thoughts.

They don't currently post enough to justify the paywall

Over the past year, they have posted between 4 to 9 videos a month. That is a decent amount for most YouTube channels, but for a streaming service that is way to low. For $5.99 a month, getting only 4 episodes is not a good deal when other services give you more for less.

What makes this problem worse it that...

They only produce one show at a time

Whenever Watcher releases a shows, they only have that show running. During a series of Mystery Files, they only upload Mystery Files. During a series of Too Many Spirits, they only upload Too Many Spirits. Now this isn't the case all the time, when they have smaller productions they usually release a similar size production along with it.

If we go back to the issue of only getting 4 episodes, this means that you can be paying $5.99 a month to access 4 episodes of a show that you don't enjoy.

These two issues would be less detrimental if it wasn't for the fact that...

They backpedalled removing their YouTube back catalogue

Lets be real, not only were they originally going to remove their YouTube content, It was the only way I could see this being worth the price.

Yes, they say that they aren't removing it, but if you read the full article it say's that "The company originally told Variety that Watcher would eventually remove all of its videos from YouTube".

Their original plan WAS to make all their content exclusive to streaming, the problem was that everyone new this was a scummy idea and they gaslit their audience into thinking they weren't doing that. But that now leaves them with a streaming service where all they offer is 4 episodes of a show per month and a back catalogue that is free on a more well known platform.

The big question I have is...

How are they going to make more content

This is something that I feel should be addressed, they are a small production studio who are trying to "creating television-caliber, unscripted series in the digital space" (direct quote from their YouTube Description). They need more content per month to make this service worth while, how are they going to do that?

Will they push out multiple small budget, easy to film, YouTube like content that bring up the overall upload count which may cause them and their employees to crunch and burn out.

Or are they going to produce several higher budget, TV-calibre shows that would each be more expensive than they can afford to make.

Not sure if this was coherent but thanks for reading anyway.

(sidenote)

While I agree that Steven is getting a huge bulk of the anger that should also be applied to Shane and Ryan, I also have to acknowledge that the first announced show after saying they need money being his travel show is not helping.

[petermorwood]

Food on St Patrick's Day (in the USA)...

...is usually Corned Beef & Cabbage, which is the Irish-American version of the original Irish boiled bacon & cabbage, but while the celebratory Irishness is still going strong, try something a bit more authentic.

A nice warm coddle. Not cuddle, coddle, though just as comforting in its own way. (Some sources suggest it's a hangover cure, not that such a thing would ever be necessary at this time of year, oh dear me no.)

Coddle is a stew using potatoes, onions, bacon, sausages, stout-if-desired / stock-if-not, pepper, sage, thyme and Time.

You'll often see it called "Dublin Coddle", but my Mum made Lisburn Coddle lots of times, I've made West Wicklow Coddle more than once, and on one occasion in a Belgian holiday apartment I made Brugsekoddel, which is an OK spelling for something that doesn't exist in any cookbook.

*****

I do remember one amendment I made to Mum's recipe, which met with slight resistance at the time and great appreciation thereafter.

Her coddle was originally cooked on the stove-top, not in the oven, and nothing was pre-cooked. Potatoes were quartered, onions were sliced, bacon was cut into chunks and then everything went into the big iron casserole, then onto the slow back ring, and there it simmered Until Done.

However, the bacon was thick-cut back rashers, and the sausages were pork chipolatas.

Raw, they looked like this:

...and the bacon looked like this:

Cooked in the way Mum initially did, they looked pretty much the same afterwards. The sausages didn't change colour. Nor did the bacon.

While everything tasted fine, the meat parts always looked - to me, anyway - somewhat ... less than appealing. "Surgical appliance pink" is the kindest way to put it, and that's all I'm saying. This is apparently "white coddle" and Dubs can get quite defensive about This Is The Way It SHOULD Look.

I'm not a Dub, so I persuaded Mum to fry both the bacon and sausages first, just enough to get a bit of brown on, and wow! Improvement! I remember my Dad nodding in approval but - because he was Wise - not saying anything aloud until Mum gave it the green light as well.

Doing the coddle in the oven, first with lid on then with lid off, came later and met with equal approval. So did using only half of the onion raw and frying the other half lightly golden in the bacon fat.

Nobody quoted from a movie that wouldn't be made for another decade, but there was a definite feeling of...

*****

There are coddle recipes all over the Net: I've made sure that these are from Ireland to avoid the corned-beef-not-boiled-bacon "adjustment" versions which are definitely out there. I've already seen one with Bratwurst. Just wait, it'll be chorizo next.

Oh, hell's teeth, I was right. And from RTE...

Returning to relative normality, here's Donal Skehan's white coddle and his browned coddle with barley (I'm going to try that one).

Here's Dairina Allen's Frenchified with US measurements version. (I feel considerably less heretical now.)

And finally (OK, not Irish, but it references a couple of the previous ones and is a VERY comprehensive write-up, so gets a pass) Felicity Cloake's Perfect Dublin Coddle (perfect according to who, exactly...?) in The Guardian.

*****

Returning to the beginning, and how boiled bacon became corned beef (a question which prompted @dduane to start an entire website...!)

The traditional Irish meat animal for those who could afford it was the pig, but when Irish immigrants (even before the Great Famine) arrived in the USA, they often lived in the same urban districts as Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe.

For fairly obvious reasons pork, bacon and other piggy products were unavailable in those districts, but salt beef was right there and far cheaper than any meat Irish immigrants had ever seen before.

Insist on tradition or eat what was easy to find? There'd have been contest - and do I sometimes wonder a bit if sauerkraut ever came close to replacing cabbage for the same reason.

The pre-Famine Irish palate liked sour tastes: a German (?) visitor to Ireland in the mid-1600s wrote about about what were called "the best-favoured peasantry in Europe", and mentioned that they had "seventy-several sour milks and creams*, and the sourer they be, the better they like them."

* Yogurt? Kefir? Skyr? Gosh...

Corned beef and Kraut as the immigrants' celebratory "Irish" meal for St Patrick's Day? Maybe, maybe not.

Time for "Immigrant Song" (with kittens).

*****

Corned beef got its name from the size of the salt grains with which the beef was prepared. They were usually bigger than kosher salt, like pinhead oats or even as large as grains of wheat, and their name derived originally from "corned (gun)powder", the large coarse grains used in cannon.

BTW, "corn" has been a generic English term for "grain" for centuries, and "but Europe didn't have corn" is an American mistake assuming the word refers to sweetcorn / maize, which it doesn't.

Lindsey Davis, author of the "Falco" series, had a couple of rants about it and other US-requested "corrections". As she points out, mistakes need corrected but "corn" is not a mistake, just a difference in vocabulary.

*****

In Ancient and Medieval Ireland pig would have included wild boar, the hunting of which was a suitable pastime for warriors and heroes, because Mr Boar took a very dim view of the whole proceeding and wasn't shy about showing it (see "wild boar" in my tags and learn more).

Cattle were for milk, butter, cream and little cattle; also wealth, status, and heroic displays in their theft, defence or recovery. It's no accident that THE great Irish epic is "The Cattle-Raid of Cooley" / Táin Bó Cúailnge (tawn / toyn boh cool-nyah).

Killing a cow for meat was ostentation on a level of lighting cigars with 100-, or even 500-, currency-unit notes. Once it had been cooked and eaten there'd be no more milk, butter, cream or little cattle from that source, so eating beef was showing off And Then Some.

Also, loaning a prize bull to run with someone else's heifers was a sign of great friendship or alliance, while refusing it might be an excuse for enmity or even war. IMO that's what Maeve of Connaught intended all along, picking undiplomatic envoys who would get drunk and shoot their mouths off so the loan was refused and she, insulted, would have an excuse to...

But I digress, as usual. Or again. Or still... :->

*****

For the most part, "pig" mean "domestic porker", and in later periods right up to the Famine, these animals were seldom eaten.

Instead, known as "the gentleman who pays the rent", the family pig ate kitchen scraps and rooted about for other foods, none of which the tenant had to grow or buy for them. These fattened pigs would go to market twice a year, and the money from their sale would literally pay that half-year's rent.

For wealthier (less poor?) farmers, pigs had another advantage. Calves arrived singly, lambs might be a pair, but piglets popped out by the dozen. A sow with (some of) her farrow was even commemorated on the old ha'penny coin...

What with bulls, chickens, hares, horses, hounds, pigs, salmon and stags, the pre-decimal Irish coinage is a good inspiration for some sort of fantasy currency.

But that's another post, for another day.

[probablyasocialecologist]

An increasing number of Silicon Valley investors and Wall Street analysts are starting to ring the alarm bells over the countless billions of dollars being invested in AI, an overconfidence they warn could result in a massive bubble. As the Washington Post reports, investment bankers are singing a dramatically different tune than last year, a period marked by tremendous hype surrounding AI, and are instead starting to become wary of Big Tech's ability to actually turn the tech into a profitable business. "Despite its expensive price tag, the technology is nowhere near where it needs to be in order to be useful," Goldman Sach's most senior stock analyst Jim Covello wrote in a report last month. "Overbuilding things the world doesn’t have use for, or is not ready for, typically ends badly."

[...]

According to Barclays analysts, investors are expected to pour $60 billion a year into developing AI models, enough to develop 12,000 products roughly the size of OpenAI's ChatGPT. But whether the world needs 12,000 ChatGPT chatbots remains dubious at best. "We do expect lots of new services... but probably not 12,000 of them," Barclays analysts wrote in a note, as quoted by the WaPo. "We sense that Wall Street is growing increasingly skeptical." For quite some time now, experts have voiced concerns over a growing AI bubble, comparing it to the dot-com crisis of the late 1990s. "Capital continues to pour into the AI sector with very little attention being paid to company fundamentals," tech stock analyst Richard Windsor wrote in a March research note, "in a sure sign that when the music stops there will not be many chairs available." "This is precisely what happened with the Internet in 1999, autonomous driving in 2017, and now generative AI in 2024," he added.

27 July 2024

[jubburb]

》 "-ARE YOU COLD, MY DEAR?"

• @jubburb

ask: none.

sypnosis: waking up with your husband one morning and going on a walk in the snow.

a/n: ive been procrastinating this foreva, ik its short but I just want this out of the drafts so I can start writing more fics😼

warnings: female reader in mind when writing, but I'm not sure if I put any fem pronouns, just cute fluffy fluffness 😺

notes: ooc zhongli? definitely? maybe? idk.. u tell me

When fall hits Liyue, it can get pretty chilly pretty fast. The degrees quickly drop to fifty degrees and lower, previously being in around the eighties or nineties.

It's quite a sudden change. But a pleasant one, especially for tourists who come around during the seasons.

-

One quiet morning, you and your husband, Zhongli, are lazing about in your shared king bed. Zhongli was reading a book, idly playing with your hair with one hand, while you were still trying to wake up, laying your head on his broad chest.

"Mm.." You groan sleepily, reaching a hand up to rub your eye.

"Are you finally awake, my dear?" Zhongli chuckles, halting his hand that was intertwined with the tresses of your hair.

You simply nod, yawning, and sit up against his chest, feeling his hand snake around your waist to hold you closer.

"Do you have work today?" You ask, blinking a couple of times to actually fully wake up, staring up at him and he nods with a hum.

"I am, in fact, off today. What do you suppose we do?" He asks, placing the book down to give you his full attention.

"Sleep in?" You request with a chuckle, and Zhongli jokingly sighs, shaking his head no.

"Something productive, please, my dear." He says, playing with a strand of your hair once more.

"Sleeping is productive, Li." You retort, rolling your eyes, tempted to fall back into a deep slumber just to spite your husband.

There's silence for a moment as Zhongli thinks.

"-Oh, I know, what about a walk around the harbor? I'm sure nobody is awake during these early hours, so it'll be calm, quiet, and peaceful. Just the two of us." Zhongli smiles, cupping your cheek, his slightly calloused palm brushing against your soft skin.

"..Thats.." You start, ".. Not that bad of an idea."

"Knew it."

You only roll your eyes at his response, "Well, I guess we better get our lazy asses out of bed before it's too late and people start getting to work."

"You're the only lazy ass here." Zhongli chuckles with a whisper under his breath, getting out of bed before you could do anything about what he said.

"Oh you mother-"

-

As you two walk around the harbor, you did not expect it to start snowing..

The pretty white snowflakes started to dance across the sky before ultimately finding use on the ground, creating a soft blanket of snow covering the docks and pathways.

Aaaaand.. you forgot your mittens.. your hands were freezing, but if you told Zhongli, he would give you that: "i tOld yOu sO" bullshit.

Before you guys even left the house, Zhongli insisted you bring mittens, because, to quote him, "You don't even know how cold it is in the morning, love."

And of course, you just had to defy him, insisting that you'll be fine without mittens.

You really regret it now..

Even though you were clad in a comfy coat, your hands that were freezing seemed to freeze your entire body, and you were quivering every step you and your husband took as you walked around.

Zhongli looked through the shop windows, not really seeming to notice at first, but then he eventually heard your teeth starting to chatter together, and glanced back at you.

"..Are you cold, my dear?" Zhongli asks, staring at you with a concerned look.

"I-m f-ine.." You respond, your teeth clamming together continuously.

He glances down at your hands that were trembling the most, reaching his mitten covered hands hold them, and you immediately feel a sense of relief.

Zhongli smiles softly, chuckling a bit, and leaned forward to kiss your forehead, "I told you to wear the mittens."

"I kn-ow.." You chatter, before moving closer to cuddle into his chest, the two of you still holding hands, standing there for a while in the wintery streets.

Zhongli hums softly, his nose nuzzled into your hair as he smells your shampoo and conditioner, snow falling over his long brown hair and back.

You could fall asleep right there in the arms of your husband, but you'd rather get home before you get all lovey dovey, so you pull away, looking up at his handsome amber eyes.

"Let's head back, Li.." You say, and Zhongli nods, continuing to hold your hand.

He even not-so discreetly maneuvered it into the large pocket of his coat, so your hand could be even warmer as you two walked.

You smile softly, and lean your head on your husband's shoulder.

The two of you only left footsteps in your wake as you find comfort in eachother.

- signed by c♡

[felassan]

July 17th DA:TV Game Informer article on returning to Dragon Age 10 years after DA:I - cliff notes:

At one point BW considered making DA:TV a multiplayer game. They did a "hard look" at this

With DA:TV BW want to get back to their roots: storytelling, characters, influencing the world

Gary McKay quote: "And we really felt multiplayer wouldn't do that. But single-player RPG is really where we wanted to spend our time, so after spending that time in pre-production, really honing in on what the vision of this game is, and [being] afforded the opportunity to deliver on the creative promise of this game, [now] we're really excited about what's coming out."

DA:TV's dev team contains both seasoned vets' decades of experiences and new talent with fresh perspectives

Gary McKay quote: "[You] want to have different perspectives, different backgrounds. If you bring a bunch of people together that have only known one thing, that's not where you see creativity. That's not where innovation comes from. Innovation comes when you have [...] that past history and blend it with some new voices and perspectives." 

DA:TV is the game where BW finally said out loud that their greatest strength is storytelling through characters, with intentionality. The game is built around those character moments

In DA:TV BW is doing "storytelling through animation" -

Mark Darrah quote: "If you put on a suit of armor [in previous games wherein each char moves exactly the same way], and you put it on Alistair, you looked exactly the same standing right beside each other. Now, we're able to keep the character coming through in the visuals and the motion, even as you're customizing them, which just wasn't possible in the past."

BW are more confident in and have a better understanding of Frostbite this time

Current game hardware tech is also able to do a lot more and execute it visually to an improved degree

BW worked hard to ensure DA:TV is respectful and referential to previous games while still being understandable by new players

John Epler quote: "So while there are references, there are moments that we have callbacks, it really is its own story, its own continuation with a different cast, with different characters. Historically, Dragon Age has always had a different cast per game, so that gives us a lot of freedom in terms of what we want to lean on in the past and what we want to really bring in that’s new and forward-facing."

Events in DA:TV play out with a storytelling goal for the future of the series. It takes the ball from DA:I, puts its own spin on it in its own direction, and continues the path forward into the future (emphasis mine)

Mark quote: "Dragon Age has always been about change. Every game has had a new protagonist, and it's been exploring its own space all the time, and this game is no different. [Veilguard] does a good job of bridging that gap. The really super fans of Dragon Age have actually made a lot of really educated guesses, and some of them are pretty right about where the franchise is going. The thing we need to make sure is that people who may have only played Inquisition are understanding what the franchise is really about – it's about a new protagonist, it's about change, it's about evolution – and don't come in expecting a direct sequel to a game they played and then are disappointed. This game is something new, something that evolves, something that is greater than what came before, the same as each game [...] before it." [emphasis mine]

Corinne: "For our new players, we're not assuming you know anything about [the DA locations or characters in DA:TV]"

BW took great care in how they introduce each companion and major story figure in the game with that in mind

DA:TV is John Epler's favorite DA game that he's worked on (he has worked on them all)

John Epler quote: "Dragon Age has always been about characters but to some degree, it's almost felt like we've lucked into that," he says. "Inquisition is a story that ultimately, you, the main character [...] have the biggest part to play. We wanted to tell a story this time where you literally cannot save the world without these characters. Beyond that, though, we also wanted to give them their own arcs that can run parallel to the main story and really give them that kind of deep storytelling our fans really enjoy." 

John Epler quote: "They have their friendships, they have their rivalries, and lean into that concept. You're not just pulling together a bunch of people who will do whatever you say. You're assembling a family, and that becomes the core of what the Veilguard is all about. It's about taking this group, this found family, and saving the world, side by side with them." 

[source]

[thepersonperson]

Thoughts on the tragedy of Gojo Satoru and narrative cruelty towards him as of JJK 261.

Some notes before we start.

1) This originally was going to be an analysis about how Gojo is Megumi's dad. Then JJK 261 came out and shattered my heart into millions of pieces.

2) This analysis will briefly deal with suicide.

3) The light novels are canon and provide critical insight to characters and their motivations. I would go as far to say they're the equivalent of Bleach's CFYOW for JJK. I will be citing the official translation from my own copies. There is a fan translation (Book 1 & Book 2), but the syntax is a bit clunky to read. Either version is fine, I just highly encourage reading them.

4) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility. 

5) Read the light novels.

(Click pictures for captions/citations.)

Preface

Umineko no Naku Koro ni (When the Seagulls Cry) is a visual novel about a person who is fundamentally misunderstood by those around them. They desperately want to be loved without being perceived, believing themself to be unworthy due to trauma and immutable characteristics given to them at birth. Instead of telling anyone these feelings directly, they play games akin to torture. They torment the ones they love over and over in hopes they'll see through their actions and understand them.

"Without love it cannot be seen."

If you've ever heard of Umineko, you've probably seen this quote. It's the lens in which you are supposed to view the contents of the novel in order to understand the heart behind the actions.

Keep this all in mind as I attempt to answer the following question:

What's wrong with Gojo Satoru?

Short Answer: Being the Strongest. He never got over the trauma inflicted by Toji that was worsened by Geto. And because he's the Strongest, he never sought help for these problems. I’m not going to explain why this is the case here—we’re just accepting this as canon for this analysis. How this trauma manifests and affects his interpersonal relationships is the focus here.

Regardless of trauma, Gojo Satoru is a fascinating character in that he is simultaneously a egotistical arrogant dickhead and a deeply caring individual. He's not one or the other, he is both at the same time at all times. Allow me to explain how he pulls this off.

2 Birds 1 Stone

Gojo Satoru is a 2 birds and 1 stone kind of guy. What I mean by this is that Gojo will do 1 thing and have 2 reasons behind it. The reasons often seem contradictory which leads fans and characters to have a polarized view of Gojo based on how they feel about him. If you hate Gojo, you will only see the bad/selfish reason. If you adore Gojo uncritically, you will only see the good/selfless reason.

This is why without love, it (Gojo's heart) cannot be seen.

I will now provide examples of this 2 birds 1 stone action.

Ijichi Kiyotaka

Ijichi and Gojo’s relationship is the best to start with because it teaches you how to read Gojo’s words vs his actions/results. We all know Gojo is very blunt in an rude way. This is at its extreme when he’s with Ijichi as seen in the following panels.

Gojo straight up tells Ijichi he’s useless as a sorcerer in a way that makes him cry. It’s definitely bullying, but it’s not to torment Ijichi even though it seems that way. Ijichi comes to understand Gojo was just trying to make sure he wouldn’t die. This particular scene took place right after Haibara died, Nanami quit, and Geto defected. The harshness is how Gojo is choosing to say “Hey I care about your life, but don’t get too close to me, I can’t handle that.”

Gojo was even kind enough to offer a productive alternative that let him participate in Jujutsu society without risking his life—driving a car and putting up veils.

Still, Gojo’s bullying of him is a lot. It makes Ijichi doubt that Gojo even likes him. Gojo has to spell it out that he trusts Ijichi the most. Ijichi being weak means he cannot betray Gojo like Geto did, therefore Gojo can fully trust him. Still, Gojo is aware his weakness is other people, so as The Strongest, he can’t let him in all the way. This leads to him showing affection/care in the most insane ways possible. (It’s not really a surprise people don’t understand him when he uses this plausible deniability model.)

ENTER: JJK Thorny Road at Dawn, Chapter 3 Asakusabashi Elegy

As stated in CFYOW, Gojo is aware of Ijichi’s stress and went out of his way to help him deal with it.

Not only does he recognize the stress and notice he hasn't taken time off for it, but he also pinpoints the reason so well that it moves Ijichi to tears. (Summary of Pages 75-77: He feels guilty for failing Yuji twice. Gojo assures him it’s not his fault and flicks him on the forehead.)

But! Gojo can’t be too affectionate. The very next day he piles a good deal of work on Ijichi’s desk he is aware will be stressing him the fudge out. (See Pages 78-79 for full context.)

It should go without saying that treating Ijichi like this is not ok. My point here is to demonstrate that despite being a massive asshole, Gojo does care.

So what did we learn here?

1) Gojo is aware of people’s emotional problems to some extent.

(IDing Ijichi’s stress source accurately.)

2) Gojo is aware he is unable to deal with emotional problems on his own so he enlists outside help.

(Having Shoko and alcohol help cheer Ijichi up while he talks to him.)

3) Gojo’s bluntness and flippant behavior is both rude and serves a purpose for the recipient.

(Gojo bullying Ijichi to keep him out of harm’s way.)

4) Gojo packages his affections with cruelty to keep people at a distance.

(Gojo flicking Ijichi on the head while telling him to take it easy. Taking Ijichi for a night out and then burdening him with extra work the next day.)

5) Other people do not understand Gojo and misread his intent all the time.

(It took Ijichi about 10 years to realize Gojo cares deeply about him.)

Nanami Kento

ENTER: JJK Summer of Ashes, Autumn of Dust, Chapter 2: Resurrection Doll

This chapter is so good at fully fleshing out the Gojo Nanami dynamic that I will not be using manga citations for most of this part. Please read it. Or listen to the official audio drama which has been fan translated.

Gojo spends the first half of this chapter messing with Nanami, forcing him to try unique foods and drinks and generally enjoy himself. You know the typical purposeful Gojo bullying. (See Pages 33-38)

Then it gets rather serious when they arrive at their mission’s destination. They have to deal with a grieving mother. Gojo is blunt. Nanami is comforting. (See Pages 47-50)

What’s interesting about this interaction is how Gojo reflects on it. He acknowledges how bad he is at dealing with attachment issues that come from grief.

Gojo and Nanami find the culprit and the both of them are quite pissed at how he’s exploiting grief to make a profit. They kind of let him be tortured by the curses that eat his body for a bit before killing him. Gojo makes Nanami do it because he can make him die a human death. (See Pages 50-57)

Even after he has expressed hatred of his man for preying on grieving parents, Gojo still ultimately wants this person to have a proper death. This captures the duality of his inhumanity (torture) and humanity (merciful death) quite well.

The following bar scene ties this all together nicely. (See Pages 58-60 for full context.)

I want to note that it is constantly drawing attention to the sentimentality the both of them feel as they converse about how this particular mission messed with them.

As stated in CFYOW, Gojo believes adults treat their stress with alcohol and conversation. And yet, he denies himself the alcohol.

Gojo denying himself this stress relief seems to be a combination of him being too wary to let down Limitless and not believing he needs it. He's the Strongest and he has to be the Strongest at all times, otherwise someone like Toji will get him.

As stated in CFYOW, Gojo recognizes his students will face trauma similar to himself and Nanami and that as adults they must look out for them.

What's so heartbreaking about this interaction is how Nanami is painfully aware Gojo isn't following his own advice of stress relief and says nothing. In a way it almost reads like Gojo, who knows people see him as a giant child, is asking Nanami to help him too in the most roundabout way possible.

As stated in CFYOW, Gojo deliberately paired Yuji with Nanami because he recognizes he is unfit to keep him emotionally stable. (Also note he refuses to have Yuji’s humanity denied as Sukuna’s Vessel. His concerns are explicitly about Yuji as a kid and nothing else.)

Not only is this for Yuji’s benefit, but for Nanami’s as well.

As we know, Nanami and Gojo have one thing common: they lost their best friends because they couldn’t be there for them. This guilt motivates both their actions as adults. Using that connection through shared grief, Gojo is trying to help Nanami heal from that wound with Yuji.

Why Yuji? Nanami’s best friend, Haibara, was a cheerful, friendly boy with a big heart—just like Yuji. He may not be able to replace Haibara, but that familiarity helps Nanami move on. We know this worked because Nanami dies without regrets thanks to Yuji. (All while seeing Haibara too.)

This is called the Nanago Bible for good reason. We have Gojo being an absolute annoying dick to him and then doting on him so targetedly it kind of makes your head spin. Just like Ijichi, Gojo cares but he’s got to bully you first before he shows it. (Totally sane and healthy behavior. /s)

That's why this hurts so much.

This is so cruel. Gojo does all this for Nanami only to be misunderstood by him in the end, and learn that everyone else is the same way.

However, Nanami still cares for him. Like Gojo, Nanami doesn't show affection unless he's being kind of mean. The best example of this is Yuji calling him Nanamin. And to be honest, his whole stern father dynamic with Yuji.

Nanami puts on a show here. He pretends this is pissing him off but he ultimately accepts it.

We've already established that Gojo is unable to fully understand other people. Nanami calling him a pervert/weirdo/self-satisfier was affection and Gojo too misunderstands him. So we're left with that panel of Gojo looking very hurt.

Iori Utahime

Similar to Ijichi, Gojo trusts Utahime because she is weak. And just like Ijichi, Gojo doesn’t say “I trust you won’t betray me like Geto”, he says this:

Not ignoring the misogynistic stint to his bullying of Utahime, Gojo has been doing this for so long that Utahime flat out hates him. It’s in her official character description. And Gojo is unaware of this because he can't read people well. But you want to know what else is? Her love of sports. (Baseball is one she's really into.)

After the disaster that was the first half of the Goodwill Event, Gojo makes the second half enjoyable for the students and Utahime specifically. 2 birds and 1 stone. Baseball means kids get to enjoy their youth and Utahime gets to have fun with something she genuinely enjoys. And Gojo gets to piss off Principal Yaga and Gakuganji as a treat.

Hopefully you can see the pattern now. Gojo cares for people while also being an absolute menace to keep them at a distance for what he believes to be their own good. And still he craves a direct connection with them. All of it is him failing to cope with Toji and Geto in a healthy way and being The Strongest.

Gojo's Heart

Now that we've established how to read Gojo's actions and words, let's take a look at his heart. What kind of person is Gojo Satoru really under all the posturing?

Other People

Though Gojo likes to act like he's above it all, other people are his weakness. This is not limited to other sorcerers, but the non-sorcerers as well. His attachment to people is so strong that it has been used by each major villain as an exploit. Toji used Gojo's fondness towards Riko to catch him by surprise, both Geto and Kenjaku used his sense of duty towards complete strangers to trap him, and Sukuna used Megumi to throw him off guard.

The Hidden Inventory and Shibuya Incident arcs in particular echo each other in set up and outcome—Kenjaku's plan being a finessed version of Toji's. Gojo panics over Riko and strangers potentially dying with the same expression as his weakness is exploited until he comes up with a solution on the spot. And these solutions ultimately fail to stop the villain from obtaining their goals. The difference between them is how Gojo follows up on the collateral damage. Post-Geto fallout, he starts more directly checking in on the people he potentially hurt.

The follow-up with Ijichi about Shibuya is illuminating. It reiterates that unconsciously Gojo created a domain on the fly that wouldn't be lethal to strangers, and it reveals that his cursed energy itself is hellbent on protecting others. What this indicates is that Gojo's soul is devoted to others. If he didn't care, none of this would be possible.

That being said, Nanami also isn't wrong to call Gojo a Jujutsu Pervert. Gojo does very much get off on fighting to the point where he starts disconnecting from other emotions. Just as the Hidden Inventory and Shibuya Incident showcased how much Gojo cares for other people, the same arcs showcased how unhinged Gojo is when left to his own devices.

He's both caring and a freak at the same time. Polarizing behavior included.

Gojo’s Students

Gojo cares a lot about his students, their enjoyment of life, and their futures. He also wants to change Jujutsu society without senseless bloodshed so he goes out of his way to recruit strong children with potential as his allies (Megumi, Yuta, Yuji, Hikari). Some may think he’s only using the youth for his own purposes. Others may think he just wants to help troubled youths. But it’s both. Gojo is doing both of these things. And boy does he feel immense guilt over it when it goes poorly. See how he handles Yuji "dying".

It should be noted that he still tries to maintain his jokey persona with Shoko and Ijichi while he genuinely gets upset. And he does this by bullying the tar out of Ijichi. (It's really no wonder the poor thing thought Gojo hated him.)

As stated in CFYOW, JJK Summer of Ashes, Autumn of Dust, Chapter 4: Ijichi at Work, Gojo’s style of care is one that is focused on helping the children handle the emotions he couldn’t at their age. (See Pages 116-118 for full context.)

Gojo basically finds children who are like himself and tries to make sure they don’t wind up like him. This is how he has chosen to cope with his trauma.

You could read this as manipulative and selfish if you find Gojo unbearable. It did turn out poorly in the end. But remember how he forced Nanami to speak of Yuji as a person and not a vessel. And how Gojo discusses with him the fragile hearts of youth and how he wants to prepare them for grief. Gojo is anticipating Jujutsu society ruining their lives and acting preemptively.

Gojo also postures in front of the students. As their pillar of stability, he pretends everything is ok because he's the adult in charge. Look at how quickly he buries his grief when they notice something is up.

And each time he does this, it works. He definitely believes what he says and that does make him annoying. However, the students feel secure because he's promising to take responsibility. When he fails them, he blames himself and no one else. That's the attitude of someone that cares despite most of his students not seeing through his arrogance.

Geto Suguru

It's not up for debate that Gojo was in love with Geto. Gojo 100% was gay for Geto. What is up for debate is whether or not the two of them ever acted on it when they had the chance. I lean towards the interpretation that this love was never realized in life. (Gege is a huge fan of yaoi that ends in tragedy.)

I want to make it very clear, after reading the contents of JJK 261, I believe Geto is the one who failed Gojo the most. He had a fundamental misunderstanding of his best friend so bad that he abandoned him and was shocked that Gojo still loved him in the end. It took him until the afterlife to see that all Gojo wanted was him.

Gojo checking in on him wasn't enough, Gojo not killing him for 10 years even though he could've wasn't enough, Gojo saying something that caused Geto to blush before he killed him wasn't enough, Gojo dying and immediately greeting him first wasn't enough. This is when he finally understands.

Before not denying the fact Geto saw Gojo as a self-satisfying Jujutsu pervert who cared about no one else.

Geto was too consumed by his own trauma and hang-ups to see Gojo with love. He wound up doing the exact same thing he killed non-sorcerers for; putting all the burden of their relationship on the strongest and expecting him to do all the work.

And yet somehow Geto was able to find the love Gojo also deserved. He made a family and was surrounded by people who openly loved him and even understood him. It makes me a little bitter.

At one point Geto did understand Gojo a lot. Enough to be his moral center and sense his suffering. He even accepted Gojo's awful personality when everyone else wouldn't. Since their breakup, Gojo has been mourning him. Every little thing Geto told him to do while they were together is something Gojo incorporated into his life.

Using the personal pronouns "Boku" and "Watashi" over "Ore" to be more polite? Done. Not killing ordinary people, even if they suck, because that would be pointless? Done. Even to the point where he spares most curse users or rehabilitates them. He takes care of Geto's family even after he's dead. Looking after the weak because he's strong? Done until it kills him.

Gojo is chasing after a Geto that no longer exists. These little rituals keep that ghost alive. And they turn out to be super beneficial to other people so let's make it another 2 birds and 1 stone that hides the fact he's grieving.

Gojo's Guts

In summary, Gojo does care about other people despite treating them in bizarre and unpleasant ways that aren’t ok. He may be using them as a way to work through his own trauma, but he is also determined to see that they live better lives than himself. 2 birds, 1 stone.

His status as The Strongest isolated him so severely that he was doomed to being misunderstood by everyone he loved. Both because of how Gojo treats them and how they treat his power. (Limitless being the metaphorical and literal barrier between himself and others.)

Gojo wants to give love and be loved but is denied it at every turn. His heart is that of a pathetic sopping-wet cat that pretends it's completely dry.

Narrative Cruelty

The narrative ire for Gojo Satoru cannot be overstated. This person sums it up the best.

After JJK 261, it has become abundantly clear to me that Gojo was intending to die the moment he made the date December 24th (the most romantic day in Japan and the death date of Geto Suguru). He has all this grief and guilt and truly believes that no one living will ever understand or care about him in the way he wants. The only one Gojo believes will understand him is Geto and he wants to be with him. (And that didn't pan out well either.)

Gojo is also refusing to burden the students with being a monster even though they're offering. As an adult he is in the right to do his damndest to make sure the minors in his care don't become as broken as him. He knows being a monster sucks and his whole goal is to put an end to that.

Plus, he blames himself entirely for this situation in the first place. He's taking responsibility by killing the elders to ensure that when he dies, his students don't pay for it. In a way he's correct, failing to kill Geto properly because he loved him is why they're here now. Kenjaku exploited that love to seal him and Gojo knows it.

The Gojo vs Sukuna fight was Gojo effectively committing suicide to be with his one and only love who fundamentally misunderstood him in life and barely understands him even in death. And ironically, the one who kills him is the first and only person relate directly to his suffering and acknowledge him as himself. Sukuna frees Gojo from the title of Strongest and leaves him as Gojo Satoru, appreciating him as the one who cleared his skies.

This is so unbearably cruel it makes my stomach twist just thinking about it.

It's why I want Gojo so desperately to come back to life. I want him to experience love and know that he is loved. I want him to come to terms with his grief and work through it. But we don't get that. He dies and is surrounded by people that barely understand him while claiming to have no regrets.

What's the point of this narrative ire?

Japanese society is largely Buddhist. Detachment, a kind of Stoicism, is a tenant of Buddhism. Emotions are to be let go of. Ideally when they arise, you don’t cling to or bury them. A version of this idea from Zen Buddhism manifests in Japanese culture as a mantra known as Suffering in Silence or Gaman. In summary, if you're hurting, you hide it. That's the proper thing to do. It leans much more towards repression of emotions instead of their release/detachment.

JJK deliberately draws inspiration from Buddhist teachings and imagery so I'm assuming Gojo Satoru being the poster child for Suffering in Silence is intentional. Taking everyone's burdens and pretending it's all ok because he's the strongest and that's what you're supposed to do.

He took on most of the burden for protecting Amanai Riko and they both died for it.

He took on the burden of being stronger, going on missions for both Nanami and Geto while they grieved until they both left him.

He took on the burden of raising Megumi and Tsumiki and look at what happened to both of them.

He took on the burden of every student no questions asked, money food, dealing with higher ups, etc and all but 2 of them treat him kindly.

He took on the burden of killing Geto, which Principal Yaga forced onto him when he was 17 and it came back to bite him 11 years later in Shibuya where he took on the burden of dealing with that veil.

This is a cautionary tale demonstrating just how much this kind of mindset can ruin your life. JJK has always been a massive critique of Japanese societal standards. And despite Gojo rebelling against it, the toxic ideas a part of his upbringing are ones he can't let go of for himself. He believes he can't be fixed, so he paves the way for the future generation with all his body and soul.

That's why this is so cruel.

In life Gojo was treated like an object by everyone around him. His clan saw him as a tool for their glory and pushed everything onto him. The higher ups, Yaga, Nanami wanted to push everything onto him and they did when they could. You can say whatever mean thing you want to him because he can clearly handle it. You can assign whatever mission or task because he's reliable as the strongest but not as a person. He gave his life for others and even his body, only to be scorned by those very ones he's helping. (Think back to how he forced Nanami to speak of Yuji as a person and not a vessel. He doesn't want any of his students to be dehumanized like himself.)

Yuta is only person who stopped to ask if Gojo was ok. He's the only one that noticed his status as a monster was eating him alive. He's the only one who had a problem with everyone talking about Gojo's body like a tool. And to help him be less lonely he asked for explicit permission to be the one to desecrate it.

Gojo doesn't want his students to give up their humanity and be lonely or give their lives to win. He's ok with them taking risks if it means they survive (see Megumi). And from what it looks like, Yuta will be the only one to fully understand him (obtaining his memories and all) and then die as the result of it.

So in a cruel twist of irony, Gojo will have one person know him fully as a monster and they will likely die as the result of it, further justifying his self-isolation in the first place. It's a game he always loses no matter how he plays.

Sukuna wasn't really wrong when he called Kashimo greedy for wanting Love and Strength. With how their society is structured, they really can't have both.

Note: I'm leaving Yuji out of this because he had no idea this was the plan and always saw Gojo as his teacher first, aka a person. This is also his general reaction to Gojo going things alone.

There's still more...

I also want to note Shoko's reaction here is another instance of Gojo not understanding those around him. From her first official character profile it's noted that Shoko has finally quit smoking for 5 years because Utahime asked her to.

Now what is Shoko doing in that panel and during the entire fight? Smoking. She's just mirroring Gojo's own behavior towards her. Pretending everything is ok and saying nothing of her true feelings. After getting blown off emotionally by both Geto and Gojo as a teenager, Shoko gave up on reaching them.

Gojo did this to her for over a decade and she's doing it back to him. Not because they want to me mean to each other, they just don't know how else to deal with their own trauma. To an extent the other students are doing the same. They're just being like their Sensei.

Gojo went out on a suicide mission believing only Yuta and Yuji cared about him in life as a person. (Megumi's getting his own post and believe me it's not fun.) The 2 most empathetic characters were able to let him know they saw his heart. With love it was seen. Other people cared and didn't show it or they flat out treated him like an object. Gojo is both at fault and not at fault for this.

It hurts me a lot and it's very cruel, but I think this has severed its purpose. If you don't tell people how you feel, they'll never know. Emotions will eat you from the inside out and no one will notice because on the surface you look ok. There aren't a lot of people like Yuta who will take the time to look for your heart, so it's better to outright show it. Don't put off grief, it will consume you.

Gege Akutami...when I get you...

Another prominent theme of Umineko is how poorly readers treat the creators of the story they are experiencing. Often times fans will say and wish horrible things on the author when the story they like doesn't go the way they want it to. You're free to feel upset by how this story's direction and critique it to your hearts content, but please remember Gege is a person too. Don't do to Gege what everyone else has done to Gojo.

Remember: "Without love, it cannot be seen."

However JJK ultimately concludes, I make you this promise.

"This game story will not have a happy ending."

[queer-ragnelle]

Why do you hate the Once and Future Knight? I decided not to pick up the book because of personal preference but I’d love to hear your rant on it

Hi anon!

I’m assuming you mean The Once and Future King by TH White?

There’s nothing I could say that hasn’t already been said before I’m sure. But I didn’t read the series until I had already read many other Arthurian tales and I really don’t understand the love the series gets. The negatives don’t outweigh the positives, and worse, the lasting impact of TH White’s characterization choices on subsequent retellings is a stain on the literary tradition that set us back too far to comprehend. Putting my rant below a cut because I went off and the subject matter is disgusting.

First and foremost, the bigotry is astounding. The racism, the misogyny, the ableism and every other prejudice and cruelty you can think of are staggering in their variety and magnitude. It’s vile. It’s inexcusable. I don’t read modern Arthurian retellings to be bombarded with that in every single chapter. TOAFK is not “a product of its time.” It’s a product of a deeply unhappy and hateful man. Plenty of earlier writing is vastly kinder to Palomides and Guinevere and Morgause and Mordred and Lancelot or any other character unlucky enough to be depicted by TH White. Literally the Medieval source material is more nuanced than that. Morgause get behind me.

Secondly, the anachronism is an annoying stylistic choice at best and yet another tool for bigotry at worst. Why are Mordred and Agravaine likened to Nazis? Like seriously what the hell? It’s not enough for them to be antagonists, the text has to invoke the Holocaust? It’s so extreme it rips the reader right out of the story and calls to mind the most horrific parts of history for no narrative benefit whatsoever. Baffling and bad.

Thirdly, the prose just kinda sucks. It’s rambling and TH White will pause the narrative to stand on a soap box to talk at the reader about his views. He’s anti-war. Fine. But of all characters to use as a mouthpiece—King Arthur? The warlord King Arthur? Make it make sense.

Fourth, most tragically of all, so much of what TH White did in his series is reflected in stories told to this day. Every other retelling has a cover quote comparing it to TOAFK. (It’s supposed to be a compliment!) To put it in perspective…

You ever read a retelling with evil neglectful parent and rapist Morgause/Morgan? TH White’s fault.

How about added incest between one of the Orkney bros and their mother (which sometimes results in someone other than Gaheris killing her, say, Agravaine or Mordred)? Thanks, TH White, that’s just what Arthurian Legend was missing, more incest.

Ever see disabled, crippled, bad seed Mordred? TH White started that trend.

What about Guinevere assaulting Lancelot when she learns about Elaine getting him drunk and raping him? TH White really said “Lol what if Guinevere hits Lancelot and spits in his face while he’s crying?”

And the racism! TH White walked so Thomas Berger could run (derogatory). Discussions of race are so intense and so frequent and so random like one minute the narrator has paused the plot to talk about how war is bad and now it’s slandering Native Americans? Brother this is Medieval England what is even happening right now? Oh, look, another N bomb. The antisemitism! Weren’t you just comparing Mordred to Hitler? What do you mean the Orcadian/Scottish characters are evil because of *checks notes* “the incalculable miasma which is the leading feature of the Gaelic brain?” [Queen of Air and Darkness chapter 5] Thanks TH White for stripping Lot, Morgause, Gawain, Agravaine, Gaheris, Gareth, and Mordred of all nuance, a condition from which they have, literally, never recovered. Of course there are some retellings since that write one or two of them with a crumb of nuance, but they’ll never be like they were in the Vulgate. Not all at the same time. I feel sick.

It goes on and on. I have to stop listing examples or I’ll get pissed off. But frankly, more people should be pissed off about it! I’m tired of seeing five star reviews on storygraph and goodreads accompanied by a review excusing the most bigoted garbage I have ever read in a children’s book. It’s vile and everyone should feel bad about defending it. It’s inexcusable. This wasn’t a case of good-intentioned inclusion with dated language, this was an author going out of his way to be hateful. Period.

Big names in the fantasy book community like Daniel Greene should not be awarding five stars and leaving an uncritical review.

Far too many readers acknowledge the racism and then rate it five stars anyway. Go to Hell, Spencer.

Here’s some from storygraph with, of course, praise for Marion Zimmer-Bradley’s pedophilic power fantasy Mists of Avalon, another piece of hot festering sludge everyone should stop talking about. Kill the legacy already. The real life victims have suffered enough.

There also seems to be a trend in these reviews that excuse the texts bigotry by referring to how “old” it is. Which is crazy to me for many reasons. TOAFK in its final form was published in 1958. That wasn’t that long ago. Also racism has always been racism, misogyny has always been misogyny, ableism has ways been ableism. Plenty of authors came before this and really make TH White look like a clown.

Let’s promote them. In reverse!

John Steinbeck wrote The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights in 1956 (published posthumously in the 70s, don’t go by that date). His depictions of Morgan and Guinevere are nuanced and fascinating, not to mention some original characters including an old granny who teaches Owain to be a warrior! This book also has a morally gray sun-powered Gawain without insulting his heritage, an emotional and thought-provoking Lancelot without marking his sin with a facial deformity, and a really sweet Marhalt who doesn’t often get much spotlight!

John Erskine wrote Restoring Palamede in 1932. He does exactly what the cover says, and writes a story about the Muslim knight Palomides beginning in his own country, living with his parents whom are both named, and follows him as he learns the ways of the world and finds an ally in his friend Brangaine! Tristan and Isolde are compelling here and while Tristan can still be a jerk to Palomides, it’s not the mask-off bigotry we’ve seen…elsewhere.

Howard Pyle wrote one, two, three, four books between 1903-1910. Two thumbs up from me. No notes. He drank his respect women juice, drew them with loving care, named so many previously unknown, and gave them voices. He was kind in his portrayal to Palomides and even some other knights of color from India. Morgause survives the narrative! We love to see it!!!

Henry Newbolt wrote Mordred: A Tragedy in 1895. A fascinating examination of family ties, all five Orkney brothers here AND their wives Lyonors, Lynette, and Laurel! (Minus Ragnelle bc life is unfair.) Guinevere and Lancelot are tragic and heart wrenching. Arthur struggles against his son Mordred and their destiny in a way that doesn’t outright demonize either side. It will rewire your brain.

Richard Hovey wrote his poetry between 1891-1900. A complex and interesting Guinevere and Elaine who are not enemies, Lancelot close with Galehaut during the war, destroyed by his torn loyalties between Arthur and Guinevere, Gawain who loves his friend Lancelot with all his heart, and so much more without tearing anyone down!

Oscar Fay Adams wrote his poetry between 1886-1906. Here we get a wide variety of character focus, with title-featured names from King Lot to Dagonet to Lamorak to Lionel. Each one is more fascinating and nuanced and fresh than the last, from a tour of Lot’s castle and meeting each inhabitant to Lamorak on Grail Quest learning to forgive himself from “sweet” Sagramore.

William Morris wrote his poetry between 1856-1910. All of it is on the Camelot Project but I also have this scanned book. Here we delve into Guinevere’s trial as she calls out those who have wronged her, lonely Galahad on Grail Quest relating to his father Lancelot and praising Palomides in his steadfast hunt of the Questing Beast, there’s even a poem named for Palomides himself!!!

Anonymous wrote Moriaen in the 13th century. It follows Aglovale’s illegitimate son Moriaen, who is of African descent. As he travels around Britain looking for his father, Moriaen meets many people who are afraid of his dark skin. BUT! All the Knights of the Round Table leap to his defense, even threatening townsfolk who try to demonize Moriaen for the way he looks and refuse him service. It is, essentially, an anti-racism story from the Medieval era. Not to mention healer Gawain’s care and attention given to the sick and disabled. That’s not even the moral/focus of the story so much as Moriaen’s journey, but it’s there and worth mentioning.

So here we are with a whole list of stuff to read that predates TOAFK and surpasses it. The last one is only sort of a joke. But it’s there to make a point about how inexcusable TH White’s racism really is. If Anonymous could give a black knight like Moriaen the narrative respect he’s entitled to for existing as a representation of real human beings that look like him, then TH White was capable of it too. Progress is not linear. This is not to say Medieval times were “better” than society today. But to write off any problematic story of the recent past as “a product of its time” as an excuse to make oneself feel better about liking it, well, I don’t know what to say. Maybe reflect on that. And while that marinates, read something else.

[blorger]

So, picture this:

Here I am, sat in an internet-less room, twiddling my thumbs and waiting for time to crawl ever so slowly by. For lack of a better alternative, I start flipping through the pages of Chamber of Secrets and I notice A Thing.

"My, how peculiar" I say to myself, fully intending to let The Thing be, but alas; time moves slowly, boredom persists and, not unlike the tell-tale heart, The Thing calls to me.

"Come," it beckons, "notice me further". "Compile some data" it begs, "that's surely the most productive way to pass the time"; like a moth to a flame, I am caught.

This, dear reader, is how I found myself tallying all the different ways the word "mudblood" is used in canon. So gird your loins and let me introduce you to

The Mudblood Chronicles, or what's in a name?

part 1: methodology

Since the purpose of this exercise is to analyse the use of the term "mudblood" as a slur, I'm not going to count the times in which the word is not being used with malicious intent. Throughout the books this happens on several occasions, those being:

during the course of the narration (it happens once in the context of "everyone present knew mudblood was a very offensive term")

when Harry uses the term, since it only happens when he either recalls someone else saying it (one time with Draco and once with Snape) or he's forbidding Kreacher from using it (twice).

when Ron uses it; it happens once to explain the slur's meaning and once (in conjunction with Ginny) to demand Kreacher stop using the term.

when someone is quoting themselves. Draco quotes himself to Dumbledore once ("you care about me saying mudblood when I'm about to kill you?"; incidentally, it's also the last time he ever utters the word)

I am counting instances in which a muggleborn character uses the term to refer to themselves, since it happens in the context of reclaiming the insult and I am interested in who the author chooses to highlight thusly.

part 2: the results/ WHEN

The word "mudblood" and its plural "mudbloods" are used as an insult a total of 62 times in the Harry Potter books. Here we can see the book by book breakdown:

Unsurprisingly, The book where "mudblood" is used the most ( a total of 34 times) is Deathly Hallows since it takes place during a war about muggleborns. Chamber of Secrets, where the term is introduced, follows with 10 mentions, after which is Order of the Phoenix (7 mentions), followed by Goblet of Fire (6 mentions) and Half-Blood prince (5 mentions). The term "mudblood" is not used in either Philosopher's Stone or Prisoner of Azkaban.

part 3: the results/ WHO

So who is our biggest culprit?

Draco Malfoy is our uncontested lead, having both the advantage of appearing in all books and of orbiting around our narrator. Both Bellatrix and Kreacher make a good showing, with Bellatrix's 6 times being especially notable since they all occur during the course of Deathly Hallows.

Let's break this down further, shall we?

Despite introducing us to the term, Draco appears to scale back his usage of the slur as he ages.

Before partaking in this experiment, I was under the vague impression that, in the wizarding world, "mudblood" is seen as a childish insult. I can now see why: in times of peace (i.e. before Voldemort's resurrection), Draco is the only person in Harry's day-to-day life saying it and he himself peters off in the usage of "mudblood" as things get more serious. To Draco, it appears, "mudblood" IS a childish insult, and we'll see further proof of this at a later date.

part 4: the results/ HOW

Let us now look at how the term is used:

Unsurprisingly, the person "mudblood" is hurled most often at is Hermione. As a main character, she is the most visible muggleborn in the narrative and, if that wasn't enough, she is more often than not the only muggleborn present, even when it doesn't make much sense (Hermione is the only known muggleborn member of the order of the phoenix, an organization whose supposed aim is the fight for muggleborn rights.)

There are no known instances of the word "mudblood" being used to refer to any other muggleborn student during Harry's time at Hogwarts. Lily Evans is the only other school-aged character who gets the dubious honor of being a "mudblood".

Let's break this down further and look at who people are referring to when they say "mudblood":

*= Walburga's portrait never directly addresses Hermione, she only alludes to the presence of various filth (muggleborns, blood traitors, werewolves..) in her home. That said, Hermione is the only muggleborn we ever see in Grimmauld Place so it must stand to reason that Walburga is referring to her, just like she's indirectly referring to Remus Lupin when she mentions werewolves.

**= Both Hermione and Lily use the term mudblood to refer to themselves in an attempt to reclaim the slur, they both do it twice.

***= Our only "other" is mr Ted Tonks, who Bellatrix only mentions in order to disavow when Voldemort talks about the birth of Teddy Lupin.

Interestingly, the only people who ever refer to Lily Evans as "mudblood" to her face are Severus Snape (one instance recounted three separate times) and Lily Evans herself. Voldemort uses the insult when talking about her with Harry long after her death.

Of further note, our only written "mudblood" comes by courtesy of a ministry pamphlet Harry finds in Diagon Alley, heavily implied to have been written by one ms Dolores Umbridge.

part 5: a brief interlude/ Draco's language

Draco refers to Hermione as “Granger” 13 times and, while their interactions often consist of him talking about her blood status, he uses "mudblood" instead of her name only 4 times. Furthemore, there are 4 additional times where he uses both mudblood and Granger (as in "that mudblood Granger").

The very first time Draco mentions Hermione in the books occurs during this exchange with Lucius:

I find this interesting because, even in private, his first instinct is to use her given name. It's only after he is scolded by Lucius* that we get our first "mudblood", in a scene where he is once again feeling threatened by her.

*= Guess who never utters the word "mudblood"? Lucius. Even Narcissa does once (in DH, when she recognises Hermione at the manor)

part 6: conclusion

I am not a linguistics expert, I cannot tell wether JKR uses the slur she made up in a way that mimics real world slurs. What I can do with the data I compiled is try to track various characters' attitudes towards muggleborns in the books by looking at what they call them.

People whose views remain unchanged (Voldemort, Kreacher, Walburga) remain consistent with their usage of "mudblood"; Draco, who grows up as the books progress, scales back. Snape only ever uses the word once, in the past, and the incident is retold multiple times to signify its importance.

As the situation in the wizarding world worsens, more people feel emboldened to use an otherwise taboo term, as seen by how most one-off utterances of "mudblood" take place in book 7, during wartime.

Finally, I would like to note that we only ever hear two muggleborns' (Lily and Hermione) opinions on "mudblood" as a slur, the rest of the time it's mostly purebloods (and the occasional half-blood) telling us how to feel about the insult; I find that very interesting.

There. Now all this useless information is out of my brain and into the aether, where other nerds can ponder on its significance while this nerd here sleeps the sleep of the truly righteous.

xoxo

[semischarmed]

Demonizer

Hope you’re not religious…

———

Parker Mills here sure was. The cross, dutifully hanging on his neck in every other post. The obligatory bible passage quoted on the profile. A “#believer” given every other caption. The works. By all accounts, religion had been good for him. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy. Friendly to all, despite the evangelizing. Virgin too- saving for marriage, of course. His parents on the other hand were vile fucks. The Mills often terrorized our small town’s tiny lgbt community but by some stroke of divine luck, the son of those demons turned out completely normal. Better than normal. Parker was probably the nicest jock in town. Parker also turned me the fuck on. With Parker, I just knew. Just knew that those kind blue eyes and gentle smile adorned that angelic face and ripped body. Knew that with his family’s wealth and that face, he had the makings of the town menace. Knew that despite all this, he was entirely clueless on his appeal and unwilling to share his god-given gifts. Many have tried to corrupt poor Parker, but the man was a saint. He even looked uncomfortable doing anything beyond a quick peck on the lips. I just knew I could make him my own cocky motherfucker.  

There were a handful of options in the dark web. Entirely different avenues ranging from a neurosurgeon offering direct transplant to a ritual for astral projection. It took 1 month just to sift through all the possibilities and options. Each one felt messy or required some form of constant maintenance. They wouldn’t do. I wanted Parker  permanently. All of him-body, mind and soul. At last I had landed on the Demonizer Potion. The effects seemed to vary drastically, though they all seemed to warn of its corruptive properties. In the end, I chose it because it filled the most important niche for these products for me- I could actually afford it. 

Finding a witch to procure this particular potion was… surprisingly easier than expected. In fact, it was downright effortless. Miranda, a witch just a town over, scoffed when I mentioned it to her. “A girl’s gotta pay her bills. Besides, It’s a lot easier and a lot cheaper to hide out here than it is in the big city.”

And that was that. For the “low-low price of $500”, I had the demonizer potion in hand. The drink was pitch-black. Darker than black even. And it seemed to pull all warmth from the room in an otherworldly, sinking feeling. I had no doubt this thing was the real deal. I read the instructions: “Drink with your intent.“ I imagined mine.

- - -

I knew the perfect time to strike. It felt oddly fitting to take him during a service. In the church’s bathroom, I took a quick swig of my future. Just a third of the black substance. I gagged as I felt it stream down my throat. And I winced, expecting a burning sensation. No-not a burning sensation. It was more like a pit of nothingness spreading throughout my body to my fingertips. The burning came after. All at once, the world around me spun as I felt my body leave physical manifestation. I watched as my spectral hands flashed white then black in a pulsating pattern, before finally settling on a grey.

Parker Mills sat, listening attentively. They seemed to be playing some religious music. My only religion sat right in front of me. In devilish glee I began to stream into him. Inch by Inch, I flooded into his thick dick. He made a small grunt at first insertion.

Parker shifted in his seat as the worship choir continued singing. His face grew red as he tried to hide a growing boner. The worship singing droned and I felt a sharp pain in my head. As if empowered, Parker’s own soul began to push me out. 

In the end, I only managed to slip a bit of the grey essence into him. It did not seem to have much effect, aside from giving him an inexplicable need to grab the flask from the bathroom floor. I tried to make a mental note of that.

I sighed, defeated, as I fled into the night. In the darkness, I recuperated as I planned my next visit.

- - -

This time, there would be no fanfare. No choir to welcome our joining and my rebirth. I wasn’t sure how long I could stay in this world without his warm flesh tethering me mortal, so I knew I had to get in him fast. 

I followed the man to his apartment, sitting patiently in a dark corner of his bedroom as he went about his day.

When he was close to sleeping, he turned off the light and sat on his bed in a meditative tone. I watched in anticipation as he closed his eyes and began to pray. “Lord, ple-“

“Mmhhmph!” I struck the man a snake, prying his full lips open and forcing his body to gorge itself with me. 

This time, no music. Just the sounds of a teary-eyed Parker choking on invisible mass. Drool ran down his cheeks as I inched more and more of my form inside. His neck bulged and eyes grew wide and bloodshot as he tried badly to reject the intrusion. Lubricated by Parker’s own saliva, by the taste of Parker, I greedily dug into his insides. 

Parker’s body began to move involuntarily. Deep in violation, it tried in vain to get me out. He smashed his head over and over again across the apartment wall trying to shake me out. I only forced myself inside harder. His head shook as it contorted in odd angles. Biceps started scratching at his own throat, trying to get me out to no avail. Eventually, they were forced splayed open as Parker’s body began to travel up the apartment wall. At first, his legs began to kick, then shake, then they begun to dangle ominously off the ground. In a perverted facsimile of his religion, I strung Parker up his own apartment wall, arms outstretched in a blasphemous pose as if to welcome me. “All are welcome..no, I am welcome,” I thought to myself. I continued my assault.

As Parker screamed, I weaved through each crevice until I could find the core of his soul. It looked pure and white, aside from the small speck of gray in my earlier intrusion. Gingerly, I pried the soul’s own mouth open as I laughed. I wanted Parker to his depths. Parker to his very core. And so I burrowed and coiled. Shackled myself to it. Shackled him to me. Like a trap jaw, his soul’s mouth closed. Forever sealing me in nice and tight as I continued squirm and fill into Parker. His spirit was mine. It bent in odd and unnatural angles, contorting until it tore. Outside, I felt Parker’s thrashing head slow into a twitching. 

I wanted-no needed every part of Parker to myself. So I begun to fill into the tears of his ravaged soul. I then felt the the fibers of those tears heal- with me embedded. Euphoric. Stillness.

Parker’s pale blue eyes shot wide open, dilated. “P-Please,” he whimpered, before they go glassy and a smile began to form on his lips. Parker’s flesh collapsed into a pile on the floor, body, mind, and soul spent. 

- - -

My first breath as Parker felt out of this world. Parker’s body was his temple after all. When I felt his lungs fill for me, and air flow into us for the first time, I felt the power in his drawn breath- Like having an athlete’s lungs chained to my whims. I felt our drawn air circulate inside me, tickling bits of me in drunken pleasure. Granted, I was not that unhealthy in my previous flesh, but this new home was unreal. Merely existing in his flesh felt like an unburdening. Energy brimmed from fingertip to fingertip and my mind raced with a clarity I did not know possible. 

“I can’t believe you just feel like all the time” I teased as I twirled my new perfect hairs. I couldn’t help but giggle in my new perfect voice. Hearing it vibrate into a low moan was music to my ears, as the man’s hand travelled and cupped his own perky ass. “Fuck,” I panted breathlessly as I massaged my new right asscheek. The Jock’s face twitches in vain retaliation. “Fuck you feel so good…” I twisted his nipple. “Thank you for saving yourself for me.” Hearing and feeling this Parker, a Parker the world has never seen- A Parker he himself had never seen, drove me mad with lust. This was a private Parker, my Parker, one bound to me for my personal enjoyment. A moment exclusive to us. This seemed to light a fire in the original Parker and I felt my soul shiver as his encapsulated mine. “g…g-get the fuck out of me!” He spat.

With newfound agency, the original Parker ran to his desk and managed just one action before I could wrestle back control.

I gulped. My shaking hand dropped the empty flask as I felt his intent hung around me like a death sentence. “Cast this demon out of me”.

Control over my perfect meat-suit went dark. Like a barrier emanating from within, I felt myself squeezed out of my home. Then falling. Falling for an unbelievable amount of time. I blacked out.

- - -

I awoke with the smell of sulfur in the air, the sky was dark and glowed a faint orange. I stood as I surveyed my surroundings, horrified. I saw a sea of bodies writhing and groaning. 

“Is this..?” I couldn’t bring myself to finish that sentence. I closed my eyes as I thought of the potion and the life I gave all to come to this. I didn’t even have a chance to play with my new body. A sensation stopped my racing mind abruptly.

It was a hand. 

One of the bodies on the floor moaned as it spoke in velvet. “Are you joining or what?” I shook it off me as the realization slowly dawned on me. It wasn’t groaning… it was moaning. They were not damned. At least, they were certainly not upset about it. 

Then I felt something else stir inside me. Hope? No- At least, not my hope. I grinned as I realized what had occurred. I took note of my spirit- a spirit that was a part of Parker’s. Partially superimposed. Partially one. We were bonded together, even as souls. When his sleeping soul came to, I felt that hope of his immediately vanish. He grabbed our merged face in horror, before looking around. 

“B-but, I never did anything… I was perfect…” Parker trailed. I felt a blackness pour out of me. That’s it? Is that all there was to being a demon? These people were not suffering in the slightest. If anything, this was something to look forward to. This time, I felt no resistance from Parker as our shared soul began to fondle itself. Our face, however, was stone cold. Parker was in control.

Feeling all that he had to look forward to, something shattered in him. I felt as much- Rage. Betrayal. Then, Liberation. He looked up into the sky with a sneer and hands outstretched. “This what you wanted, asshole? I do everything right and you still put me here? How much time did I waste in those stupid lectures? How many people did we turn down?” I immediately felt the pieces of this new Parker worm into my psyche. “Fine”. He said with a broken satisfaction.

Like a root, he spread throughout me. Bonding each of us tighter and tighter. This time, I felt a natural cockiness exude from Parker, and by extension me. It felt wrong, coming from Parker. At the same time, a part of me felt like this truly was Parker. This time, the disillusioned man continued fondling himself on his own volition. He brought me into the fold, guiding my movements. “Bro…” . I felt mind mind dull in euphoria. “Bro….”. It rolled off our tongue lazily. Something about it just felt natural. “Parker, if you don’t stop… we’ll”. His mouth opened in a wide smile as he gave both pecs a squeeze. “I know. Enjoy the ride bro”. All at once the pieces of Parker rooted into brimmed with energy. “Fuck it, right? You should be thanking me for this… My body is my temple… and I’m letting you live in it. Thanking me is the least you could do.” Searing pain hit us both. Despite all this, he retained a crazed expression as he kept defiling his own soul. Bit after bit, I felt him kneed soul into mine. Though terrified, I couldn’t help but soften. This was truly a side of Parker I had never seen. Here he was, tainting himself- tainting us both- locking us to eternal damnation. Into one being. And he laughed while doing it. I could feel it in his depths. A raw aggression. A depraved, sexual hunger in him. One that swallowed me infinitesimally. One that strung me up inside him, fed me pieces of himself. Fed me too much of himself. Fed me to him. My head was spinning as the lines between us blurred even further. This new Parker coursed through me as he guided me to finish the job. Let’s sin in this temple together. The last, innocent piece of the original Parker spurted out of our soul in a torrent of spectral cum. We could see the weightlessness of it. We watched as it floated up to the dark sky. This remnant of the original Parker-the original me, would be mine. I drew the land into me, felt empowered by the flames as I jetted up. In unbelievable pace we ascended back to the living world. 

- - -

Final bits of soul continued to ascend but with a swift, dark grip, we grabbed it and jammed it into our body’s chest. I watched my meat shudder at the feeling. It breathed into life, but remained unconscious. Our soul now brimming black, I caressed my perfected form in satisfaction. We were Parker. And we needed every bit of ourselves to be whole. On that note, I jammed our dick right into the Parker Meat body’s chest and watched as it shuddered. Caressing the face now wholly mine, I jammed our dick in again and again, reveling in the body’s shaking. I watched it claw into the floor, legs kicking and flaying in some automatic attempt to keep its own soul out. I only continued with faster and faster pace, grunting in his manly tone until finally-release. The invisible barrier around flesh punctured and I willed my spirit to pump bit after bit of myself into the small orifice. The Parker body only made gurgling noises as I streamed inside. Once all of me was finally home, I felt my flesh begin to enclose me and laughed as I felt the barrier reforge- only with me inside it this time. I made quick work of the last piece of the original Parker’s soul. Staining it black and integrating it into myself.

Tears now flowed freely down Parker’s flush cheeks. His hands caressed his thick biceps in gratification. We were finally complete.  

I moaned as I felt myself overcome a familiar sensation that my old body often experienced. However, this sensation was entirely foreign to this Parker-flavored bod. Electricity coursed inside me, and moans turned into screams as shook back and forth in a downright religious experience. My back arched in violent delight and I felt the lights go out from my new pale, blue eyes. Parker’s first cum- our first cum together- absolute pleasure. My jaw slacked and drool began to escape as I was still reeling from the sensation.

Mess. I sat there panting for a second, chest and stomach soaked and coated in our liberation. I scooped a bit of the white and stared at it in my hand, watching this body’s own seed violently shudder and contort unnaturally before phasing into a dark mist. In demented glee, I felt the mist like an extension of myself and began feeding it into the rest of the untouched cum still outlining my abs. I licked my lips in savage pleasure as I watched as the rest of it slowly turn dark and soon felt it also under my control. Exquisite. I sent the small package of myself into the air, flying towards one of my teammates. Just a small piece to convince him to submit himself to Parker’s temple.

I couldn’t wait to show the town our new self. We are Parker. And all are welcome to worship at this temple. “Let us pray”.

- - -

Now, have you accepted Parker as your personal lord and savior?

[genericpuff]

I've watched both (this is a hazbin hotel ask btw) but tend to keep my eyes closed to merch sales (and such forth) unless it can pierce my five degrees of separation

also gotta admit that I've been not keeping up with HB since... honestly the since the season end. yeah I'm behind.

What do you mean they're waiting for what's functionally pamphlets? It's taking MONTHS for a pamphlet?

That's funny in the bad way 😭

yeah so from MY UNDERSTANDING (i.e. correct me if I'm wrong) the playbill was part of some exclusive package deal where buyers would receive some keychains, trading cards, and a playbill which was supposedly going to be filled with exclusive interviews/quotes/background information/etc. about the show's production. That playbill was exclusive to the pre-orders, meaning if you didn't pre-order this merch package, presumably you could still purchase the merch package on its own (or possibly its parts separately on the merch site like the keychains n junk) but the playbill would ONLY be sent to those who pre-ordered.

The pre-orders started around a year or so ago, but then roughly 9 months ago when the bundles started to show up, people reported that the playbill - literally the centerpiece of the marketing - was missing.

Since then, the playbills still haven't arrived, but customers have gotten TWO separate emails written from the "characters" of Hazbin Hotel updating them on the situation. Yes, you read that right, the emails meant to update people on the part of their pre-order package that was still missing - a package that cost them $76 and again, the playbill was exclusive to - were written in-character like a roleplay post in a message board forum.

And for some reason, the A24 staff decided that Husk would be the best character to deliver the bad news, a character who is, like many characters in Hazbin, just an asshole.

It's wild that this even got approved as an official email from the A24 team because let's face it - if you had spent $76 with the good faith expectation that you were gonna get everything you were promised in return for that $76 is this really the response you'd want to get? I'm not exactly sure when this email was sent out but according to some of the people reporting on it via Twitter, it was around the end of January (so the end of the month that folks were expecting it to roll in). Not a great way to tell people that the product they're waiting on - and didn't expect to be missing in the first place - was delayed.

Months later, a second email rolled out, and A24 sort of learned their lesson, not by actually addressing their customers as human beings, but this time as Charlie, who is at least not a complete dickhead.

It still doesn't really answer any questions though because it's putting the responsibility on fictional characters to explain what's going on. So of course everything is masked behind the "teehee, Alastor did a naughty and Niffty got stuck in the printing press machine!" roleplaying talk which literally does not actually tell anyone what's really going on, just gives them a vague impression based on what they chose to make a fictional character say.

Sure, it's nicer than Husk, but it's still disingenuous and frankly just cringe esp when this is concerning the interests of paying customers.

I don't know if this is Vivzie's doing or someone else on the A24 team, but it really feels like they're trying to operate the same way HH would have operated back when it was just a Youtube series... but it's not a small-time Youtube production anymore, it's a full on Amazon show with hired employees and a customer base that expects the thing they paid for to actually show up. So at best this is just really immature mishandling of a situation that should be taken at least relatively seriously.

And really, out of all the things to delay... the playbills? Really? For anyone who's not familiar with what a playbill is, it's literally just a booklet. Professional, "Playbill" branded playbills that you see in legitimate theatre productions are (if I recall correctly) anywhere from 30-60 pages, but a lot of those pages are often dedicated to ad space of other productions and companies, with maybe only 10-15 pages dedicated to the actual production. People love collecting them though because you typically only receive them when you go to see a play itself, so it can be a great souvenir from limited run productions.

It's kinda like comic collecting for theatre-goers, they can serve as memorabilia or as "proof" that you were there to attend a specific show. Though playbills don't tend to accrue as much value as much as comics can, they can still have a lot of sentimental value.

Hazbin Hotel isn't a play though. It's a streaming show available on Amazon Prime that anyone can watch anywhere in the world. It doesn't exactly have the need for something like a playbill, because the exclusivity is simply tied to how much extra money you're willing to give them for the pre-order, not to any sort of unique in-person experience of going to the theatre and watching the show live with your own eyes.

Granted, Hazbin Hotel does obviously take heavy inspiration from theatre culture as it is itself a musical, so I can understand the novelty and appeal of creating a unique playbill for it. I just don't really understand why that's the item that got delayed when a booklet containing exclusive info should be one of the easiest things to make, especially when it comes to production costs (printing a bunch of playbills shouldn't be anywhere near as expensive as producing keychains and trading cards).

But there was an update on reddit about this a couple weeks ago and it seemingly contradicts what A24 - sorry, 'Charlie', sigh - said months ago that they were working hard on specifically printing and packaging the playbill orders-

FINALLY the HH fandom gets a real human being from A24 responding, but they're saying that the designs are still being worked on??? So this means they haven't even started printing the things yet?? So that's an entirely DIFFERENT issue that hasn't been addressed up until this point.

So yeah, again, I don't have any stakes in this and it's definitely not something that I'm like, putting a lot of emotional investment into, but it has still been fascinating to check in on every now and then. Big condolences to the HH fans who paid $76+ for this package and are still waiting for the MAIN CENTERPIECE to show up - if you're one of those fans and are now reading this, you're probably gonna be waiting a little while longer because apparently they haven't even designed them yet 💀😆