#existing should not be a crime punishable by death

[krysmcscience]

Man, I can't believe I didn't wake up to this news in the form of a Supernatural meme :(

Seriously, though - if you have the ability to vote, go do it. And while you're at it, maybe bring someone along with you who might not have the means to go vote on their own.

Yes yes, I too am very sad and annoyed that Trump is not dead, I got all breathlessly excited and queued up "Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead" to be ready for a great announcement, and then I didn't even get to play it. It's a huge bummer.

However, step two of this huge bummer is NOT "Oh no and now his fandom will be EVEN MORE ANNOYING, we have basically already lost :((((" That is the devil speaking. Step two is to say "Ah heck, his fandom is going to be even more annoying, better FUCKING VOTE AND MAKE SURE EVERYONE I KNOW ALSO VOTES" Stop your worthless defeatism, stop your stupid pessimism, stop trying to GIVE UP AND SURRENDER just cause one weird thing happened.

GO VOTE, IDIOTS

[musical-chick-13]

Maybe I’ve just been Thinking Too Much About the Concept of Justice due to...currently watching....something (Idon’twannatalkaboutit)..........but GENUINELY the way most of y’all talk about the death penalty and about ANYONE who decides to go through law school for ANY reason is terrifying.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good. 

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left. 

and then satoru wins. 

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead. 

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure. 

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware. 

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place. 

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it. 

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free. 

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair. 

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared. 

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on. 

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close. 

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper. 

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?” 

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for. 

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore. 

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down. 

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were. 

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself. 

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever. 

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why. 

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought. 

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare. 

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature. 

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again. 

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face. 

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high. 

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath. 

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause. 

and then you remember. 

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru. 

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have. 

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again. 

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh. 

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself. 

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close. 

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness. 

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night. 

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans. 

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest. 

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room. 

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry. 

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly. 

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not. 

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen. 

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast. 

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between. 

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace. 

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile. 

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart. 

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.  

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name. 

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles. 

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away. 

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment. 

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years. 

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do. 

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you. 

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru. 

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had. 

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.  

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him. 

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind. 

his breath hitches. 

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror. 

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms. 

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened. 

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him. 

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance. 

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along���that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to. 

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention. 

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence. 

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them. 

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them. 

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to. 

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down. 

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it. 

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself. 

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life. 

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in. 

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you. 

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for. 

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you? 

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it. 

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life? 

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him. 

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal. 

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score. 

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous. 

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort. 

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good. 

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off. 

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think. 

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles. 

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it. 

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug. 

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed. 

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place. 

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look. 

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch. 

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes. 

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this. 

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room. 

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook. 

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again. 

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind. 

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks. 

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left. 

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good. 

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence. 

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away. 

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow. 

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation. 

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too. 

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes. 

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too. 

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?” 

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever. 

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive. 

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy. 

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru. 

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little. 

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises. 

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough. 

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink. 

finally, for once, you’re enough. 

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering. 

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much. 

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum. 

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

[gallierhouse]

One of my favorite things about IWTV is its critique of the patriarchal family structure through vampirism. The maker functions as both father and husband, and the maker-fledgling relationship is analogous to a parent-child relationship (the maker makes the fledging, then nurtures them and teaches them about vampirism). This is then complicated by the fact that makers are often engaged in romantic or sexual relationships with their fledglings (Lestat and Louis, Marius and Armand). So the fledgling is permanently tied to their father-husband (or if they’re lucky, just their father). So far both makers have been abusive. Lestat is violent, controlling, possessive, and also loving, dedicated, and responsible for the welfare of his two fledglings. As cruel as he is to Louis and Claudia, he fulfills his function as a father by 1) teaching them to hunt 2) protecting them from the outside world 3) enacting punishment when they defy him. I know he fails Claudia with regards to Bruce, but he doesn’t save her because he’s punishing her for leaving (he could hear Bruce’s thoughts, so he probably knew what was happening, and chose not to go). This is the classical mold of a father. Both protecter and punisher, who has dominion over his family and is justified in expecting obedience. He is a good father. Not by modern standards, but he’s a good father according to the patriarchal idea that fathers should discipline, teach, protect, and yes, control (see: daughters first belonging to their fathers then to their husbands, child abuse being implicitly sanctioned as corporal punishment, etc.). He fulfills being a father the way he fulfills being a patriarch. It’s very traditional. Similarly, Armand functions as the patriarch of the coven, which Claudia identifies as a family. He enacts his authority through violence, and demands coven members follow a strict set of rules. When coven members step out of line, he punishes them, drags them home, demands they follow coven rules, etc. (See: Lestat’s father dragging him home from the seminary, Lestat dragging Claudia home when she tries to run away, etc.) It’s not exactly 1:1 because the coven is also a cult (and I have things to say about how the coven exists to critique not only cults but the nature of theatre troupes, which are commonly abusive and hierarchical…) but Armand does function as the patriarch and acts accordingly as an enforcer. Santiago even reminds Claudia that “tender can turn to tinder,” reminding her that as while affection within the coven (or, you know, families) exists, it’s secondary to the fundamental nature of the coven, which is hierarchical, obedience demanding, and enforced by the patriarch, who, within the rules of a coven or a traditional family, is justified in enacting violence. On top of that, it’s interesting that Claudia and Louis’ crime isn’t just killing a vampire. It’s killing their maker. When Armand abuses Claudia, he reminds her about what she did to her maker, not what she did to Lestat. Claudia and Louis have committed patricide. Bad enough to commit murder, worse to commit patricide, and flout the natural order and hierarchy of the family completely. Patricide has historically been punished much more harshly than murder for this reason. It was the only crime for which a death sentence could be given in the Roman Republic, and we all know about the myths (Oedipus, Cronus overthrew his father and then got overthrew by his son, the cycles cycle, etc.) that state that patricide is the worst possible crime.

All this is to say is that a recurring idea in IWTV is that abuse within the patriarchal family structure isn’t a bug, it’s a feature. Wives and children (Louis and Claudia) are meant to submit to fathers and husbands and father-husbands (Lestat and Armand). It’s not supposed to be an equal relationship. It’s hierarchical, and if you step out of line, you “deserve” to be punished (Louis refusing Lestat sex, Louis not allowing Lestat to cheat since wives, historically, are expected to tolerate infidelity from husbands via concubines, mistresses, maids, etc., Claudia defending herself and Louis from Lestat, Claudia daring to not want to wear a stupid blue dress, Louis not going home to Armand on time, etc.). I really like the way IWTV explores this, because not only does it cue us to see Lestat’s and Armand’s actions as abhorrent and abusive, cueing us to see it doesn’t spare Louis or Claudia from the abuse. The narrative respects Louis and Claudia, but Lestat and Armand don’t, and so even as the audience roots for Louis and Claudia, they have to recognize that they’re trapped in a cycle enabled by patriarchal structures of abuse, and the tyranny of the family.

[yiling-laozu-is-loml]

You know what's sad about Wei Wuxian's death? Its not that a bunch of people disliked him and said 'die bitch!'. No. The thing with Wei Wuxian was that he had to die. There was no other way.

Wei Wuxian was kind, selfless, paid his debts and favours as deserved, cared about people, used his skills and cultivation for good of as many as he could, didn't shy away from danger or back down in the face of injustice. He was, in short, the very definition of what a cultivator should be. And that's why he had to die.

If he lived, corruption would have decreased and ended over time. If he lived, civillians and younger cultivators would've realized their rights and how they shouldn't take bullshit from clans. If he lived, next generations would've realized that rules and traditions were just constraints set to keep them under strict control and from realizing they didn't need all those useless elders after all. The system would've changed, no one would've tolerated all this extortion, corruption, nepotism, power imbalance, crimes that were swept under the rug due to the committers being influential. Absolutely no one.

And all that would've been caused by the existence and actions of one man. Wei Wuxian.

So how do we deal with that? We nip the evil in the bud. First use his horrible treatment at the hands of Jiangs as a base to show that yes, he's bad, his martial family treated him that way and they know him best. Then cutting off his allies by skewing their perception about him and his intentions. Then by sowing fear into hearts of allies and civillians. And then leading a siege to cleanse the world of 'evil' so that their bullshit won't be discovered or put a stop to even centuries later. So that his end would serve as a warning to anyone who wishes to rise against evil and corruption, as an unspoken threat to anyone who cared for people and their duties for real.

And it worked. It worked spectacularly. Anyone defying the rules was punished, anyone saying anything similar to Wei Wuxian's? Anyone trying to do real good or anyone following in his path was deemed evil. Their torture and murder were never even acknowledged, yet the rumours were spread to discourage others from trying. Even people who didn't follow his footsteps and chose to be righteous of their own accord didn't live to see the results of their goodness (Nie Mingjue, Xiao Xingchen, Song Zichen etc) and if they did, no one found out and they were forgotten quickly (Mianmian).

It worked so well that every harm that befell on anyone, whether it was from the gods or from someone playing god and taking advantage, was attributed to the Yiling Laozu's evil ways. He was dead, yet everything that went wrong was his fault. Your marriage didnt work out? Wei Wuxian was behind this, I am sure. There was a flood that destroyed years worth of your hard work? Sounds like the Yiling Laozu. You had a cough because you ate something cold in the winter? Pretty sure the evil Wei Wuxian is behind it, he has various very evil tricks up his sleeve. That Monster!

He was all-powerful, a man who didn't bend to the whims of gods or wills of mortals. Someone who could defy everyone if he woke up in the mood to.

The propaganda and brainwashing worked so well that people never stopped to ask themselves the question: If Yiling Laozu was truly so powerful, how did he get defeated by a bunch of corpses? How did the Ghost General, his most powerful weapon, get killed by a few dozen cultivators?

And thinking of that is depressing as fuck because he died solely so the rich could get richer, the evil and corrupt could advance in their evil ways (Jin Guangyao, Xue Yang) and everyone could stay on their carefully curated bubble of bliss with none the wiser about their deception, manipulation and bullshit about bloodlines and traditions (Jiang Cheng, The Lans, Jin Guangshan, etc).

[mxtxfanatic]

Why Lan Wangji Endures

I breifly touched on this topic before in this post, but I wanted to go more in-depth with it in combination with this post. When Lan Wangji says this:

"...When I went to see him, I told him, ‘Young Master Wei was already in the wrong, why add onto the wrong committed?’ And he said....... He can’t affirm whether what you did was right or wrong. But no matter what, he was willing to shoulder all of the responsibility together with you...."

—Chapt. 99: A Hatred for Life Part 2, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

...he is not making a statement on the morality of either his or Wei Wuxian's actions. In fact, his opinions about the moral righteousness of their actions are separate from his opinions on his clan's (and the greater cultivation world's) meted-out punishments. Why? Because the rules and laws of the cultivation world are now wholly separate from what is moral, and so Lan Wangji has matched Wei Wuxian in cleaving his sense of morality from what is considered acceptable by the status quo. Lan Wangji cannot confirm to Lan Xichen (or the Lan Clan, or the cultivation world as a whole) whether Wei Wuxian was right or wrong because they are not operating under the same understanding of "right and wrong." At the same time, Lan Wangji's (summarized via Lan Xichen's) speech above is not in conversation with his brother but actually in conversation with Wei Wuxian's speech back in Yiling:

There was no such road. No solution existed. Wei WuXian spoke slowly, “Thank you for keeping me company today. Thank you for telling me the news about my shijie’s marriage too. But, let the self judge the right and the wrong, let others decide to praise or to blame, let gains and losses remain uncommented on. I, too, know what I should and shouldn’t do. I believe that I’ll be able to control it as well.” As if he’d anticipated such an attitude since a long time ago, Lan WangJi nodded slightly and closed his eyes. And that marked their farewell.

—Chapt. 75: Distance, exr

Wei Wuxian was put into a dead-end situation where any act of self-defense or defense of innocents was an automatic crime. In the end, he experienced the ultimate consequence of death because his act of self-defense led to the death of an important individual, a death that was seen as "unforgivable" in the eyes of the cultivation world, unlike the deaths of Wei Wuxian and the Wen remnants. Likewise, Lan Wangji's actions in protecting Wei Wuxian against his clan were met with punishment, because even though he had good cause in rescuing the Wen remnants' only protector, going against his clan is "unforgivable" in the eyes of a society ruled by tradition and orthodoxy over morality. This is why Wei Wuxian says that the self must judge the self, and why Lan Wangji is following that creed by enduring the Lan Clan punishment while maintaining an unshakeable belief in Wei Wuxian's righteousness.

It was never about Lan Wangji doubting his or Wei Wuxian's morals. It was never about Lan Wangji putting love above righteousness. It was always about how Lan Wangji so much believed in Wei Wuxian's morality and the righteousness of his actions that he was willing to protect the man when the entire world said he was in the wrong, when his own family stood opposite him. And just like Wei Wuxian eventually accepted the consequences of his actions and used his last moments to attempt to destroy the Stygian Tiger Seal, Lan Wangji, too, endured being whipped 33 times by the discipline whip, then went on to rescue Wen Yuan and raise him and the other Lan disciples with morals so strong that they could transcend the mob mentality that their parents never learned to unsubscribe from. Lan Wangji's steadfastness in the face of the incredible hypocrisy and corruption baked into the system he lived in is why Wei Wuxian is able to resurrect into a world where the new generation can look up to him as a hero and a mentor rather than a scourge and a terror.

This endurance is Lan Wangji's ultimate act of love.

[yandere-toons]

I know this is a little early but can you do a Book of Life headcanon for Dia De Los Muertos? It can be La Muerte and Zebulba or Maria, Manolo, and Joaquin. (I love your writing so much!)

Yandere La Muerte & Xibalba (Platonic & Romantic Headcanons)

Warnings: Death, Toxic Mindsets.

A.N. – ¡Feliz Día de los Muertos!

While the candle of her chosen mortal is aflame with life, La Muerte dons it proudly in a prime spot among her dress or hat, close enough to where she can always feel its heat and wince at the exact moment it goes cold. If so exists even a whiff of foul play, it is her husband Xibalba who punishes the living with a sudden uptick in fatal snakebites.

Hot boils the resentment of Xibalba, who never so wished to eradicate the Law-Maker as he does watching his own helpless reflection in the window of a home where his favourite mortal lay despairing. Decades of deceit and contrivances just to share a few words, forced by ancient law to conceal his true name and nature, have worn his patience to a thread. At the same time, Xibalba is inclined to thank this purveyor of death in person, to offer a taste of what the latest victim endured and send the slain soul to rot, as he did, in the Land of the Forgotten.

La Muerte, for all her power in death, can in life offer only words of encouragement from the mouth of a kind stranger. She often observes their day from the secrecy of terraces and distant roofs, watching to ensure their happiness and step in with bits of wisdom should they seem lost. She refrains from direct intervention until the day they wander inside her castle, at which point she cannot help wondering how much longer it may have taken to meet them this way had they lived the life they wanted. Such rumination is channelled into action as La Muerte focuses on bringing them more comfort with their new arrangement than ever they found with the living, seeing it as a way to make up for all the strife she was forbidden from preventing.

La Muerte is happy to join their visitation for Día de los Muertos, believing it will help them grow more accustomed to her and accept her as someone deserving of a higher role in their existence. Xibalba gripes the whole time while wondering where he went wrong to make them so opposed to his presence that they would choose the company of mortals over a night spent drinking and feasting with him and his wife, even questioning whether La Muerte is behind all of this to punish him for some ancient crime.

Xibalba muses that, for a bond so strong as this, he could use his deathly touch to kill their relatives all at once, feigning the promise of a reunion — while keeping to himself that such a deed would only eliminate the last of their tethers to the living and thus send them straight to his realm in perpetuity. Xibalba has one finger outstretched to do just that when La Muerte slaps it down and swears she will never forget this should he go through with it.

Xibalba wilts at her wrath but soon grows restless with spite and decides a more clandestine approach will net him his petty vengeance. If simply snatching away a few lives is too vulgar, then perhaps he can make a wager of it. La Muerte, her inner child intrigued, listens as he spins the age-old tale of a fair trade: if their spouse in life leaves town; if the kids down the street go on to marry one another — Xibalba will claim hosting rights, and if not, he will stop cursing their mortal attachments.

Neither are too moved by sympathy plays, having heard every plea imaginable from souls desperate to live and reunite with those up above. A bet, however, draws from both gods the memory of a younger time, a splash of excitement in an otherwise predictable system.

La Muerte's conditions are more palliative: not protesting when she requests a day spent with her, not trying to breach the living-dead barrier before its time. When others or perhaps even the soul themselves begin to question these once-thought agape embraces and invitations to dine, the goddess admits to a more personal interest. She has walked beside them for much of their life and feels they were cheated by it, seeing the bad side of the world too much and the good side too little, and so has taken it upon herself to show them what could have been.

Xibalba's conditions revolve around staying with him for longer periods, say a millennium instead of a century, or granting him explicit permission to kill some mortal companion of theirs who stokes his envy. Such a blessing is by no means necessary to carrying out the hit; rather, it serves as a colossal show of deference as well as a convenient method of claiming the person's blood is now on their hands.

La Muerte can generally be relied upon to act as a restraining influence on Xibalba, keeping him from wiping out whole droves of mortals in a fit of cruelty; however, even she will leave them to their fate if the terms are clear and both parties have agreed, for a wager with a god is all-binding. By refusing to fulfil one's end of it, the winning side is bound no longer to the stipulations set forth in the agreement and may exact any price as recompense.

Only one path to victory remains: accuse Xibalba of rigging the bet, which La Muerte will be inclined to believe given his history, assuming a trip to lodge this complaint with her is even feasible. Xibalba may suspect this intent to oust him and cancel the next dinner date in haste, professing to La Muerte that he and his new roommate are getting along splendidly.

La Muerte laments their absence and voices her desire to see them again, to which Xibalba pleads that she has hosted them long enough and to give him a chance. Despite a winding series of lies and broken promises to consider, La Muerte is committed to forgiveness and thus gives her word that she will not try to ferry them back to her land, at least until the next bet is up.

Xibalba's lonely heart is all too eager to drag them down into the Land of the Forgotten, where souls hardly move or speak, having lost all sense of self. Immortals and mortals alike who spend any significant amount of time in this realm incur some degree of degeneration and start to lose touch with what made them human, a process Xibalba endlessly chatters about to fill an otherwise eternal silence.

La Muerte, once content with this tenuous sort of balance, finds the scales tipping when they express a disinterest in reconnecting with the living world. Chaos erupts as La Muerte challenges Xibalba to return their soul, convinced he is poisoning their heart with his own bitterness for humanity. Xibalba deflects at every opportunity, suggesting that he merely speaks a harsh truth and offers an escape from the drudgery of mortal life.

A deep frustration ignites within La Muerte, less now at the dark turn of her husband, which she has begrudgingly come to accept, and more at the threat of losing her chosen soul to exactly the kind of existence she strove so hard to separate from them. Even though the march of time will one day condemn the soul to what comes after, La Muerte sought to enrich their short journey and give them the taste of true happiness they could never afford.

While she has walked this path with many and knows the weight of her title demands she overcome her grief, cursed objects of half-formed immortality and interjections of the soul's name into increasingly unrelated projects and movements are the desperate final scratches of Xibalba. A god who chases off the inevitable, Xibalba scrambles to build this entire false history in those last few years, only to watch it crumble when his actions force La Muerte to banish him for upsetting the natural order.

[proshippers-against-censorship]

The final word I will always have on the death penalty, whether we're talking about rapists or pedophiles (the two most common types of "bad enough" criminals I tend to see people talking about when advocating for corporal punishment) or anything else, is this -

The state/government should NEVER be given the right to kill people. No, it does not matter what somebody has done. No, there is no crime "bad enough" to warrant death. Yes, that includes the people you're thinking about.

Even if you ignore the proven statistical facts on how states that employ the death penalty have higher rates of violent crime and murder than states that don't, even if you ignore the fact that hundreds of studies have proven that the death penalty is not a deterrent to crime, even if you ignore all the records of wrongful executions in which innocent people were executed for crimes they were later proven not to have committed,

In the year of our lord 2024, when the radical act of simply existing and being alive as a queer person and/or racial minority is enough for cops and prosecutors and politicians to decide that you are a pedophile and a sex offender (a frighteningly high number of states are fighting tooth and nail to pass bills that would legally classify queer people, particularly trans people, as pedophiles purely for the crime of being queer/trans in public) WHY would you ever advocate for the death penalty?

You want pedophiles to get the death penalty, based entirely on your personal feelings of disgust while disregarding the factual evidence of how the death penalty does not stop pedophiles from existing or harming people? You HAVE to reconcile within yourself that that means accepting that you are supporting the mass incarceration and execution of innocent queer people, and trans people, and black people. Trump is perpetuating lies about "illegal" immigrants (racist codeword for "people who aren't white") being violent child-raping puppy-eaters to a global audience on a daily basis, and you want the people in power to have free reign to kill anybody they decide is a pedophile?

I have to wonder if the pro-death penalty crowd even understands what it is actually advocating for.

THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS

The government should NEVER have control of anything that catastrophically affects the life of a human.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

FTC vs surveillance pricing

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

In the mystical cosmology of economics, "prices" are of transcendental significance, the means by which the living market knows and adapts itself, giving rise to "efficient" production and consumption.

At its most basic level, the metaphysics of pricing goes like this: if there is less of something for sale than people want to buy, the seller will raise the price until enough buyers drop out and demand equals supply. If the disappointed would-be buyers are sufficiently vocal about their plight, other sellers will enter the market (bankrolled by investors who sense an opportunity), causing supplies to increase and prices to fall until the system is in "equilibrium" – producing things as cheaply as possible in precisely the right quantities to meet demand. In the parlance of neoclassical economists, prices aren't "set": they are discovered.

In antitrust law, there are many sins, but they often boil down to "price setting." That is, if a company has enough "market power" that they can dictate prices to their customers, they are committing a crime and should be punished. This is such a bedrock of neoclassical economics that it's a tautology "market power" exists where companies can "set prices"; and to "set prices," you need "market power."

Prices are the blood cells of the market, shuttling nutrients (in the form of "information") around the sprawling colony organism composed of all the buyers, sellers, producers, consumers, intermediaries and other actors. Together, the components of this colony organism all act on the information contained in the "price signals" to pursue their own self-interest. Each self-interested action puts more information into the system, triggering more action. Together, price signals and the actions they evince eventually "discover" the price, an abstraction that is yanked out of the immaterial plane of pure ideas and into our grubby, physical world, causing mines to re-open, shipping containers and pipelines to spark to life, factories to retool, trucks to fan out across the nation, retailers to place ads and hoist SALE banners over their premises, and consumers to race to those displays and open their wallets.

When prices are "distorted," all of this comes to naught. During the notorious "socialist calculation debate" of 1920s Austria, right-wing archdukes of religious market fundamentalism, like Von Hayek and Von Mises, trounced their leftist opponents, arguing that the market was the only computational system capable of calculating how much of each thing should be made, where it should be sent, and how much it should be sold for.

Attempts to "plan" the economy – say, by subsidizing industries or limiting prices – may be well-intentioned, but they broke the market's computations and produced haywire swings of both over- and underproduction. Later, the USSR's planned economy did encounter these swings. These were sometimes very grave (famines that killed millions) and sometimes silly (periods when the only goods available in regional shops were forks, say, creating local bubbles in folk art made from forks).

Unplanned markets do this too. Most notoriously, capitalism has produced a vast oversupply of carbon-intensive goods and processes, and a huge undersupply of low-carbon alternatives, bringing the human civilization to the brink of collapse. Not only have capitalism's price signals failed to address this existential crisis to humans, it has also sown the seeds of its own ruin – the market computer's not going to be getting any "price signals" from people as they drown in floods or roast to death on sidewalks that deliver second-degree burns to anyone who touches them:

https://www.fastcompany.com/91151209/extreme-heat-southwest-phoenix-surface-burns-scorching-pavement-sidewalks-pets

For market true believers, these failures are just evidence that regulation is distorting markets, and that the answer is more unregulated markets to infuse the computer with more price signals. When it comes to carbon, the problem is that producers are "producing negative externalities" (that is, polluting and sticking us with the bill). If we can just get them to "internalize" those costs, they will become "economically rational" and switch to low-carbon alternatives.

That's the theory behind the creation and sale of carbon credits. Rather than ordering companies to stop risking civilizational collapse and mass extinction, we can incentivize them to do so by creating markets that reward clean tech and punish dirty practices. The buying and selling of carbon credits is supposed to create price signals reflecting the existential risk to the human race and the only habitable planet known to our species, which the market will then "bring into equilibrium."

Unfortunately, reality has a distinct and unfair leftist bias. Carbon credits are a market for lemons. The carbon credits you buy to "offset" your car or flight are apt to come from a forest that has already burned down, or that had already been put in a perpetual trust as a wildlife preserve and could never be logged:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/18/greshams-carbon-law/#papal-indulgences

Carbon credits produce the most perverse outcomes imaginable. For example, much of Tesla's profitability has been derived from the sale of carbon credits to the manufacturers of the dirtiest, most polluting SUVs on Earth; without those Tesla credits, those SUVs would have been too expensive to sell, and would not have existed:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/24/no-puedo-pagar-no-pagara/#Rat

What's more, carbon credits aren't part of an "all of the above" strategy that incorporates direct action to prevent our species downfall. These market solutions are incompatible with muscular direct action, and if we do credits, we can't do other stuff that would actually work:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/31/carbon-upsets/#big-tradeoff

Even though price signals have repeatedly proven themselves to be an insufficient mechanism for producing "efficient" or even "survivable," they remain the uppermost spiritual value in the capitalist pantheon. Even through the last 40 years of unrelenting assaults on antitrust and competition law, the one form of corporate power that has remained both formally and practically prohibited is "pricing power."

That's why the DoJ was able to block tech companies and major movie studios from secretly colluding to suppress their employees' wages, and why those employees were able to get huge sums out of their employers:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/High-Tech_Employee_Antitrust_Litigation

It's also why the Big Six (now Big Five) publishers and Apple got into so much trouble for colluding to set a floor on the price of ebooks:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_v._Apple_(2012)

When it comes to monopoly, even the most Bork-pilled, Manne-poisoned federal judges and agencies have taken a hard line on price-fixing, because "distortions" of prices make the market computer crash.

But despite this horror of price distortions, America's monopolists have found so many ways to manipulate prices. Last month, The American Prospect devoted an entire issue to the many ways that monopolies and cartels have rigged the prices we pay, pushing them higher and higher, even as our wages stagnated and credit became more expensive:

https://prospect.org/pricing

For example, there's the plague of junk fees (AKA "drip pricing," or, if you're competing to be first up against the wall come the revolution, "ancillary revenue"), everything from baggage fees from airlines to resort fees at hotels to the fee your landlord charges if you pay your rent by check, or by card, or in cash:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/07/drip-drip-drip/#drip-off

There's the fake transparency gambit, so beloved of America's hospitals:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/13/a-punch-in-the-guts/#hayek-pilled

The "greedflation" that saw grocery prices skyrocketing, which billionaire grocery plutes blamed on covid stimulus checks, even as they boasted to their shareholders about their pricing power:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-06-12-war-in-the-aisles/

There's the the tens of billions the banks rake in with usurious interest rates, far in excess of the hikes to the central banks' prime rates (which are, in turn, justified in light of the supposed excesses of covid relief checks):

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-06-11-what-we-owe/

There are the scams that companies like Amazon pull with their user interfaces, tricking you into signing up for subscriptions or upsells, which they grandiosely term "dark patterns," but which are really just open fraud:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-06-10-one-click-economy/

There are "surge fees," which are supposed to tempt more producers (e.g. Uber drivers) into the market when demand is high, but which are really just an excuse to gouge you – like when Wendy's threatens to surge-price its hamburgers:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-06-07-urge-to-surge/

And then there's surveillance pricing, the most insidious and profitable way to jack up prices. At its core, surveillance pricing uses nonconsensually harvested private information to inform an algorithm that reprices the things you buy – from lattes to rent – in real-time:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/05/your-price-named/#privacy-first-again

Companies like Plexure – partially owned by McDonald's – boasts that it can use surveillance data to figure out what your payday is and then hike the price of the breakfast sandwich or after-work soda you buy every day.

Like every bad pricing practice, surveillance pricing has its origins in the aviation industry, which invested early on and heavily in spying on fliers to figure out how much they could each afford for their plane tickets and jacking up prices accordingly. Architects of these systems then went on to found companies like Realpage, a data-brokerage that helps landlords illegally collude to rig rent prices.

Algorithmic middlemen like Realpage and ATPCO – which coordinates price-fixing among the airlines – are what Dan Davies calls "accountability sinks." A cartel sends all its data to a separate third party, which then compares those prices and tells everyone how much to jack them up in order to screw us all:

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

These price-fixing middlemen are everywhere, and they predate the boom in commercial surveillance. For example, Agri-Stats has been helping meatpackers rig the price of meat for 40 years:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy

But when you add commercial surveillance to algorithmic pricing, you get a hybrid more terrifying than any cocaine-sharks (or, indeed, meth-gators):

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/tennessee-police-warn-locals-not-flush-drugs-fear-meth-gators-n1030291

Apologists for these meth-gators insist that surveillance pricing's true purpose is to let companies offer discounts. A streaming service can't afford to offer $0.99 subscriptions to the poor because then all the rich people would stop paying $19.99. But with surveillance pricing, every customer gets a different price, titrated to their capacity to pay, and everyone wins.

But that's not how it cashes out in the real world. In the real world, rich people who get ripped off have the wherewithal to shop around, complain effectively to a state AG, or punish companies by taking their business elsewhere. Meanwhile, poor people aren't just cash-poor, they're also time-poor and political influence-poor.

When the dollar store duopoly forces all the mom-and-pop grocers in your town out of business with predatory pricing, and creating food deserts that only they serve, no one cares, because state AGs and politicians don't care about people who shop at dollar stores. Then, the dollar stores can collude with manufacturers to get shrunken "cheater sized" products that sell for a dollar, but cost double or triple the grocery store price by weight or quantity:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/27/walmarts-jackals/#cheater-sizes

Yes, fliers who seem to be flying on business (last-minute purchasers who don't have a Saturday stay) get charged more than people whose purchase makes them seem to be someone flying away for a vacation. But that's only because aviation prices haven't yet fully transitioned to surveillance pricing. If an airline can correctly calculate that you are taking a trip because you're a grad student who must attend a conference in order to secure a job, and if they know precisely how much room you have left on your credit card, they can charge you everything you can afford, to the cent.

Your ability to resist pricing power isn't merely a function of a company's market power – it's also a function of your political power. Poor people may have less to steal, but no one cares when they get robbed:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/19/martha-wright-reed/#capitalists-hate-capitalism

So surveillance pricing, supercharged by algorithms, represent a serious threat to "prices," which is the one thing that the econo-religious fundamentalists of the capitalist class value above all else. That makes surveillance pricing low-hanging fruit for regulatory enforcement: a bipartisan crime that has few champions on either side of the aisle.

Cannily, the FTC has just declared war on surveillance pricing, ordering eight key players in the industry (including capitalism's arch-villains, McKinsey and Jpmorgan Chase) to turn over data that can be used to prosecute them for price-fixing within 45 days:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/07/ftc-issues-orders-eight-companies-seeking-information-surveillance-pricing

As American Prospect editor-in-chief David Dayen notes in his article on the order, the FTC is doing what he and his journalistic partners couldn't: forcing these companies to cough up internal data:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-07-24-ftc-opens-surveillance-pricing-inquiry/

This is important, and not just because of the wriggly critters the FTC will reveal as they use their powers to turn over this rock. Administrative agencies can't just do whatever they want. Long before the agencies were neutered by the Supreme Court, they had strict rules requiring them to gather evidence, solicit comment and counter-comment, and so on, before enacting any rules:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

Doubtless, the Supreme Court's Loper decision (which overturned "Chevron deference" and cut off the agencies' power to take actions that they don't have detailed, specific authorization to take) will embolden the surveillance pricing industry to take the FTC to court on this. It's hard to say whether the courts will find in the FTC's favor. Section 6(b) of the FTC Act clearly lets the FTC compel these disclosures as part of an enforcement action, but they can't start an enforcement action until they have evidence, and through the whole history of the FTC, these kinds of orders have been a common prelude to enforcement.

One thing this has going for it is that it is bipartisan: all five FTC commissioners, including both Republicans (including the Republican who votes against everything) voted in favor of it. Price gouging is the kind of easy-to-grasp corporate crime that everyone hates, irrespective of political tendency.

In the Prospect piece on Ticketmaster's pricing scam, Dayen and Groundwork's Lindsay Owens called this the "Age of Recoupment":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/03/aoi-aoi-oh/#concentrated-gains-vast-diffused-losses

For 40 years, neoclassical economics' focus on "consumer welfare" meant that companies could cheat and squeeze their workers and suppliers as hard as they wanted, so long as prices didn't go up. But after 40 years, there's nothing more to squeeze out of workers or suppliers, so it's time for the cartels to recoup by turning on us, their customers.

They believe – perhaps correctly – that they have amassed so much market power through mergers and lobbying that they can cross the single bright line in neoliberal economics' theory of antitrust: price-gouging. No matter how sincere the economics profession's worship of prices might be, it still might not trump companies that are too big to fail and thus too big to jail.

The FTC just took an important step in defense of all of our economic wellbeing, and it's a step that even the most right-wing economist should applaud. They're calling the question: "Do you really think that price-distortion is a cardinal sin? If so, you must back our play." Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

https://clarionwriteathon.com/members/profile.php?writerid=293388

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/24/gouging-the-all-seeing-eye/#i-spy

[gor3-hound]

jujutsu kaisen works (dark content)

☆ salvation

ft. cult leader!suguru geto x reader

tw: non/dub-con, corruption

“Thank you for your help, Master Geto. I feel a lot better now. It's been a while since I managed to get a full-night's sleep.” You reply, offering him a gentle smile. Your eyes still look a little hazy, as if you're about to fall asleep any moment. Suguru decides to put his plan into action.

You're not quite delirious enough to miss the way his hand wanders along your side, caressing the curve of your hip and giving it a squeeze before he slips his hand under your shirt, feeling the fever hot skin of your stomach. His eyes flick up as he hears the cup being set on the table, your brows furrowed in confusion.

☆ daddy's home

ft. real dad!toji x reader

tw: incest

“Ah. You're my favourite, anyway.” He tells you, and you smile. You know you're only his favourite because you put up with his shit, but it still makes you happy to hear him say that. You can see the way his lips curl into a smirk at that, and he slowly drags his gaze along your body. You're not sure you appreciate the way he's looking at you, though. Like, it's great to get some attention from your dad for once, but that doesn't exactly mean you want him looking at you like you're a piece of meat.

☆ bark or bite - commission

ft. real dad!toji x reader

tw: incest, dub-con

“One more fuckin’ word, sweetheart. I dare ya. Always wanna act like a bitch with Daddy, huh? You're gonna get fuckin’ treated like one.” He hisses, grabbing you by your hair to tug your head back harshly. “Pretty mouth like yours should only be used for one thing, but mutts like you love to bite. Daddy's gonna have to make sure ya can't.” He snaps the collar in place first, and that's already enough to get you begging. All the 'no, daddy's and 'please, I'm sorry's in the world couldn't stop him now, not with how rapidly his cock is filling out. It's hot, almost gets him as worked up as when he squeezes that little throat with his hand. The bone gag comes next, and he even got you a pretty one, the pink leather straps matching the collar. He sees your jaw clench, and then you're tugging your face away disobediently. You're even a fucking brat being faced with your punishment.

☆ written all over your face - commission

ft. naoya zenin x puppy!reader

tw: hybrid mistreatment, cruel naoya, forced cosmetic procedures

He kneels behind you, spreading your folds with two fingers, humming in satisfaction as strings of slick spread and break at his actions. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t pick out a puppy for that exact reason - a few words of praise, and you were soaked. He slips a finger deep into your cunt, adding another one and scissoring them open before groaning at the tightness. You felt like a virgin, too. Perfect. He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, wiping his spit off on your clothes before he pulls them back on. He gives your ass a few pats as he stands up, turning around to bang a few times on the door. ”Hey! I’ll take her.”

☆ give me love - commission

ft. naoya zenin x reader

tw: incest, verrryyy light dub-con

Growing up in the Zen'in clan taught you one important lesson - women would always be seen as inferior to men. It did not matter how hard you worked to prove yourself to the Elders in the clan. You were a woman, and that was crime enough.

More than anyone, Naoya had every right to resent you. Your mere existence was an inconvenience to him, but more than that, your birth dishonoured him. He already had to fight harder than your brothers to climb to the top and become the head of the clan, but sharing a womb with a woman was unforgivable. He was constantly ridiculed for having a female twin, and in turn, you were treated as a stain on the Zen'in name for bringing shame to a Zen'in heir.

☆ 'til death do us part - commission

ft. naoya zenin x reader

tw: forced breeding, abuse

Being the favoured whore of Naoya Zen'in is considered an honourable position to have. You would be blind to miss the envious gazes of the other servants within the clan walls as you make your way through the halls once more, towards his room. You're sure their jealousy would dissipate if they knew how he truly was. He did not mask his attitude, his distaste for women as a whole – for prey women, no less. The extent of it was not something even you had anticipated. You had theoretically climbed the ranks to an easier job. After all, you'd gotten your own chambers. Three square meals most days. It was no wonder the other women wished they were in your position.

☆ sly fox // dumb bunny - commission

ft. zenin clan x reader

tw: dubcon

“You've all failed to produce any useful heirs to secure your place as the next head of the clan. Ogi has given us women, Toji - a bastard. My own son has not even produced a child, and as for you, Jinichi… I do not even wish to speak on the matter. You have somehow disappointed me more than your brother.”

Naobito kicks your trembling form forward, your body bare as you catch yourself before making contact with the floor. The wood is rough against your soft skin, your eyes flickering across the many faces of the Zen'in men staring down at you.

“A bunny. Not ideal, of course. But fertile enough I'm sure one of you will be able to fuck a useful heir into her by the end of today.”

☆ just wanna be yours - commission

ft. inumaki + yuta

cw: dubcon, coercion

Inumaki saved your life. He would do anything for you. He’d lost his fucking arm saving you. Didn’t he deserve more than a few phone calls when you had the spare time? It wasn’t fair. His entire career was at risk, all because of you – didn’t he deserve a little more than a bit of friendly concern?

[kaeyas-beloved]

val’s no sympathy november!!

this november, just before the merriest time of the year, val of @/kaeyas-beloved presents the most gut punching, tear jerking, heart shredding fanfics of your favourite genshin characters. why? just because :)

The following is a list of to be released fics along with their corresponding characters. individual works will all feature their own cws.

nov 1st - 6th: a moment too late

— where your husband doesn’t arrive in time… [Ayato, Diluc, Childe, Cyno, Wriothesley, Zhongli]

nov 7th: turn the clock back

— he should know by now that no one is exactly the same after death [Zhongli, Reincarnation AU]

nov 8th: dust

— when chalk crumbs, all that’s left is dust [Albedo]

nov 9th: a shot in the dark

— his fourth and final betrayal [Wanderer, Apocalypse AU]

nov 10th-12th: accident

— he didn’t mean to… hurt you… [Itto, Childe, Gorou]

nov 13th: marigolds for us

— may the march of time halt, if not just to have one more second with you [Dainsleif]

nov 14th - 15th: catch-up (if needed)

— life gets in the way sometimes :((

nov 16th: drive the knife, twist it good

— when words cut deeper than any blade ever could [Xiao]

nov 17th - 18th: red drops on my white cuffs

— he’s a doctor, so why couldn't he save you? [Baizhu, Dottore]

nov 19th: more catch-up T-T

nov 20th: two birds with one confession

— you lost two friends in one confession [Alhaitham & Tighnari]

nov 21st: lovers < oath

— his oath far out weighs your love [Childe]

nov 22nd: four sides and a bottom

— a box full of your things, that’s it, that’s all [Kaveh]

nov 23rd: before i could tell you

— he died never knowing your greatest secret [Wriothesley]

nov 24th-26th: behind the veil of lies

— “can you see my disguise // i’m different inside” [Lyney, Venti, Pantalone]

nov 27th: unlawfully punished

— does the punishment really fit the crime? [Neuvillette]

nov 28th: drowning

— apparently, you’re everything he doesn’t want… [???]

nov 29th: heart, bruised then broken

— history repeats itself, and he can’t handle that [Diluc]

nov 30th: spider lily

— the gods really do scorn his existence [Kaeya]

all works will be tagged with #val’s nsn!

[jozor-johai]

Ned has this small speech in AGOT Bran I about why he must behead Gared, and I think there's some really interesting takeaways. Not about why he must do it, the part he focuses on; the part Ned doesn't focus on: why it's legal, and what that means for Gared.

"Do you understand why I did it?" "He was a wildling," Bran said. "They carry off women and sell them to the Others." His lord father smiled. "Old Nan has been telling you stories again. In truth, the man was an oathbreaker, a deserter from the Night's Watch. No man is more dangerous. The deserter knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime, no matter how vile.

Ned moves our attention along to why Ned had to be his own headsman, but in just a few sentences here, we've been introduced to the paradox of law that makes this system so fundamentally unjust and broken.

We're told that "no man is more dangerous" than this deserter, so we might think, for a split second, that Ned feels he must kill the man because he is dangerous. But as Ned points out, the logic is actually the reverse: "he knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime" (emphasis mine). It is not the prevalence of crime that is creating the demand for law, here, it's the existence of this extreme law that is generating the crime. Not wanting to be killed, the deserter would do anything to survive.

For Ned, the epitome of law in the North, who literally acts as judge, jury, and executioner, the tautology of the reasoning is irrelevant. The man is dangerous, now, whatever the situation. Of course, for Ned it's also really about an adherence to the laws of the Night's Watch, which is an institution as old as his house. It's their death sentence to declare, his to pass.

This time reading it, though, I was struck by how Ned's words here are an inversion to Septon Meribald's broken man speech, which is too long to relay here but ends with this:

"He turns and runs, or crawls off afterward over the corpses of the slain, or steals away in the black of night, and he finds someplace to hide. All thought of home is gone by then, and kings and lords and gods mean less to him than a haunch of spoiled meat that will let him live another day, or a skin of bad wine that might drown his fear for a few hours. The broken man lives from day to day, from meal to meal, more beast than man. Lady Brienne is not wrong. In times like these, the traveler must beware of broken men, and fear them . . . but he should pity them as well."

Septon Meribald is describing Gared here, just as much as he's describing the men at war. There isn't a mention here directly of the threat of punishment for desertion, which is more extreme with the Night's Watch than elsewhere, but the reality is the same. Here, though, Meribald's approach is entirely different than Ned's—Meribald, who walks among the smallfolk and gives away what good he can offer, has a much more understanding and empathetic view of these men.

Ned has the capacity for this understanding, but his role is simply not to have kindness here. All of the goodness and kindness Ned has otherwise just doesn't matter here, because here Ned is the law, and Ned is a lord still.

With the fact that even Ned is given this treatment, we see how rigid and unjust the laws and class structures are here. Even a "good person" is not good in Ned's position.

I think this highlights the cause behind the growing smallfolk unrest throughout the books and especially in Feast/Dance. Even the good lords, the ones who can see the problems at work here, are still lords, and still hold themselves to the status quo that keeps them in power above all else. And it takes a very different perspective—like the kind Arya has gotten, for example—to see it the way Meribald does. (Though Arya has gone the opposite route away from forgiveness... that's interesting too.)

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hey trans Florida folks - things suck, but I want to make sure y'all have more info so you can better gauge the urgency and expected risk for a new bill.

This is another long post, but please read because a lot of folks are in a huge panic at some misleading info.

You've probably seen this by now:

This is misleading. Be incredibly concerned at the path we're on because it is bad, even plan to leave the state (I am), but drag isn't punishable by the death penalty:

From the Twitter screencap: "Florida has now: 1) made drag in public illegal as a 'sex crime against children'."

Misleading. SB 1438 censors drag in front of minors w/vague, subjective language and threatens misdemeanors, fines, and license revocation for violations. This is meant to scare businesses, and even cities. We are already seeing Pride parades canceled in Florida in response:

From the Twitter screencap: "2) made sexual crimes against children punishable by death"

Too broad. Sexual battery against a child is being made into a capital felony (aka, punishable by death) in the currently proposed SB1342 .

The bill says:

"A person 18 years of age or older who commits sexual battery upon, or in an attempt to commit sexual battery injures the sexual organs of, a person less than 12 years of age commits a capital felony".

If we want a definition of "sexual battery" itself, we can jump to Florida statues at:

https://m.flsenate.gov/statutes/794.011

"Sexual battery” means oral, anal, or female genital penetration by, or union with, the sexual organ of another or the anal or female genital penetration of another by any other object; however, sexual battery does not include an act done for a bona fide medical purpose."

Also of note in this statute:

"Serious personal injury” means great bodily harm or pain, permanent disability, or permanent disfigurement."

I am not a lawyer, but to me, this looks like less of an attack against trans people for existing (via conflation with anti-drag bills), and more a way to target those providing gender affirming care -- healthcare providers or even a child's affirming guardians.

Many states are already trying to set up "aiding and abetting" laws (from the anti-abortion playbook) to punish anyone offering any kind of gender affirming care (from general therapy to vocal coaching) to a trans kid.

Florida might be hoping someone applies the "injures the sexual organs of" component of SB1342 to gender-affirming puberty blockers. Yeah, it's a stretch, but I would not be surprised to see someone try it.

Because we are already seeing the HHS committee consider sending subpoenas to gender-affirming clinics:

"House Speaker Paul Renner said he wants the House to examine how the organizations adopted their recommendations. He questioned whether the guidelines were the result of scientific analysis or whether “the integrity of the medical profession has been compromised by a radical gender ideology that stands to cause permanent physical and mental harm to children and adolescents.”

Emphasis mine. Again, I am not a lawyer, but I would not be surprised to see someone try to hold a gender-affirming clinic accountable for "sexual battery" against a child.

All these separate actions paint a grim picture.

Back to our Twitter screencap: "3) Began allowing death penaltymsentencing at at 8-4 vote instead of a unanimous vote"

Yes, true. This one is scary all on its own because it makes it that much easier for the DeSantis administration to target political enemies.

Everyone should be terrified of this:

Back to making child sexual battery a capital felony & SB1342:

Could we eventually see bills proposed that further broaden - via deliberately vague language or otherwise -what kind of "sex crimes" are punishable by death, thus fully targeting trans people?

For sure, we will absolutely see fascists try to get away with whatever they can and I hope we see more resistance against what is happening now to prevent the escalation towards genocide.

But this specific bill isn't targeting drag and it's important we understand the current threat landscape so we can plan accordingly.

Like. I'm still working on my own plan to flee Florida asap (I am a trans man) but I don't feel at risk of the death penalty just yet, so my "leave asap" is "sell the house in a month" instead of "grab the bugout bag and get in the car NOW".

It is very, very important to understand the threats we face so we don't make rash decisions that could have permanent consequences for already vulnerable people. We need to plan and act on plans with haste, but afford ourselves every opportunity to make decisions with as much accurate information as possible.

What's the status of SB1342?

As I type this, still with the senate, but check for updates at the link below. If passed, it would enact October 1, 2023.

In closing

Again, be careful, be safe, be informed. I am not a legal expert; I'm just a little guy, but the risk landscape has enough threats trans people need to respond to without us thinking drag is currently eligible for the death penalty.

Every trans person in the United States, not just Florida, should be watching what is going on across the country and noting how all these bills connect and escalate. And what could become blueprints at the federal level.

Keep hope, but plan for contingencies that could threaten your job, your housing, your liberty, and possibly even your life. Watch the news, watch your local bills, and do your best at figuring out when you need to break that emergency glass.

My biggest advice to be better informed is to learn where your state posts bills and look them up when they hit the news:

Get used to reading bills and noting when they would take effect

Learn how to follow a bill on its way into law - the stages are usually through various committees, then both the House and Senate can file amendments and ultimately vote in separate sessions to approve, then the governor signs it into law

Understand that a lot of reporting on bills can make it sound like it has passed into law, when it might still just be in a committee.

Not all bills pass, and when they do, not all pass as originally proposed. (This can work for or against us.)

Follow trans political commentators like Erin or Alejandra for more context

Again, it all sucks right now and I don't want to underscore the danger so many transgender Americans are already in (and lord knows I am very lucky to be able to leave Florida). But knowing what we're up against is one of the few defenses we have right now.

I have more advice for trans Floridians here.

[adinfernumadinfinitum]

Welcome to my silly little fan theory @emmg:

How Raphael is the ‘Mastermind’ behind the plot of Baldur’s Gate 3…

…or how I give him more importance than I should.

DISCLAIMER:

In this ‘dissertation,’ I present my take on things based on Dungeons and Dragons 5e lore from the Forgotten Realms universe, along with fandom theories and headcanons where they suit me. This is NOT an in-depth analysis of anything, so I won’t be reciting specific quotes, etc.

I repeat, this is just MY take on things. If a similar theory already exists, feel free to reach out, and I’ll gladly tag the material!

Oh, and there are a lot of spoilers about, well, everything, so read at your own risk ⚠️

I thank the lovely @bitethedevil for allowing me to tag their posts, making it easier on me so I don’t have to write everything out! I also want to take this moment to appreciate their work and contributions to this fandom! ☺️

Introduction

Baldur’s Gate 3 is a brilliant, complex, multi-layered game filled with multiple villains, heroic figures, and a plot that weaves players in seamlessly. That’s why we love this game—at least, that’s why I do—the gripping storyline and its faceted characters.

The game is set in the Forgotten Realms with DnD lore and rules, while still adding and maintaining its own unique features and twists.

But what if we entirely take a look at it from DnD lore perspective?

Section 1: Raphael as the core character in Baldur’s Gate 3

Fans of the Emperor might argue with me here, but oh man, have you seen how many pies Raphael has his fingers in?

This narcissistic little shit of a cambion plotted his grand design to take the Crown of Karsus for over 2,000 years, planning everything with terrifying precision and putting in a staggering amount of effort—all to manipulate Tav or Durge into giving him the crown.

To understand just how far back his scheming goes, we have to start with the fall of Netheril. As Raphael himself tells us, this is where it all began, and when his father seized the crown, it became impossible for Raphael to obtain it himself.

Baator—the Nine Layers of Hell—has its own system and rules. The plane is aligned as lawful evil, and by its laws, anyone who breaks them is punished; in other words, theft is a crime (don’t try this at home edition).

Am I going to explain the system and rules of the Nine Hells? Hell no, or I’ll be sitting here until next Halloween. Sorry, maybe in a separate post sometime (or not) 😭

So Raphael had to get creative if he wanted to get his greedy claws on the crown.

You can read about how much Raphael’s involvement is actually found in the game Baldur’s Gate 3 here.

What’s relevant for this ‘dissertation’ are the following points, which all show how he orchestrates the plot:

1. Raphael, Vlaakith, and the Astral Prism —

Raphael even plots to capture Orpheus. Not personally, of course, but with the knowledge that it could benefit him and would even serve its purpose in the future. This is a crucial detail.

However, I don’t believe Raphael would craft or have someone craft an item like the Astral Prism, as well as the bindings of Orpheus (the mask, chains, and binding crystals) and the Orphic Hammer. It’s more likely these objects already existed in the Hells, with Raphael profiting by dealing with them.

Sadly there is no official information on that, I really find that interesting.

As for why the Orphic Hammer is called Orphic Hammer - why is Orpheus called Orpheus? He’s a liberator for his people, having inherited the power of Mother Gith, who freed the Gith from mind flayer enslavement. The character of Orpheus draws heavily from Orpheus in Greek mythology, a symbol of liberation, love, and the attempt to rescue a soul from the bonds of death. The term “Orphic” reflects this sense of breaking free from constraints or seeking transformation (of course, it has other meanings, too, but this one feels like what the developers were aiming for).

So the hammer’s name has both symbolic depth and a bit of pun, as it’s intended to free the character Orpheus from his chains.

ANYWAY

2. Raphael, Moonrise Towers, and the Gauntlet of Shar —

The amount of interwoven contracts Raphael has made in the Shadow Cursed Lands is suspicious, and each and every one of them is too , an important point.

Isn’t it just a bit too convenient that Ketheric’s misery plays right into Raphael’s hands? The Shadow-Cursed Lands—Reithwin, once ruled by Ketheric, formerly full of Selunite worshippers but ruined by schemes of the Dark Lady who turned a grieving worshipper of her sister into a Shar follower and leader of an army of Dark Justiciars—is a whole breeding ground for contracts and a stage for Raphael’s play.

Hold on, I’m not implying that I believe Raphael had a hand in Shar’s mischief here, but I do think Raphael handpicked Ketheric, a grieving and obsessed madman (a truly tragic character, honestly), to be an unwitting pawn in his schemes, without directly involving himself. To do this, he contracted with desperate beings like the Architect, Yurgir, and the last Dark Justiciar.

To understand why Raphael would even need Ketheric, we have to look a step further.

3. Raphael and my beloved raccoon boy, Gortash —

Raphael buying Gortash from his parents was a calculated move and the final piece in the Netherbrain plot scheme.

I believe Raphael specifically chose Enver Gortash, a boy with potential, for his plans to get the Crown of Karsus.

Look, Gortash is anything but dumb; in fact, he’s the exact opposite. He learned the ropes in Hell, literally imprisoned in Raphael’s House of Hope. All jokes aside about pot-scrubbing duty and overhearing Raphael and Haarlep getting it on, Gortash is a quick learner.

Raphael just had to watch as Gortash escaped the House of Hope with vital information about the crown. With this, Raphael set up an ambitious, cunning man with the drive to steal the crown.

And this is where Ketheric returns to the picture. Ketheric, the chosen of Myrkul; Gortash, the chosen of Bane; and Durge, the chosen of Bhaal.

As for how Raphael might have gotten his hands on Durge? I’ll leave that as the theory’s plot hole.

I could fill it with headcanons—like Gortash and Durge knowing each other even before Gortash was sold—but that feels a bit far-fetched.

Actually, all of this is a bit far-fetched, but hey, it’s my silly little theory.

But hey again, we’re slowly coming to a conclusion how Raphael is the mastermind behind BG3, do you see my vision?

All Raphael needed was patience. The chosen ones, Gortash and Durge, set the stage by planning the Netherbrain coup and, in stealing the crown, executed Raphael’s plan. All they needed was the third chosen, Ketheric, to carry out the rest of the plot: building the Absolute’s army, etc., the rest we know...

So, what was left? Just someone desperate enough to make a deal with Raphael and actually hand over the Crown of Karsus. And how would he pull that off?

✨The Tadpole Gang✨

Every single one of them fits the bill. Especially if the player chooses Durge.

The next question is: how could he manipulate the group if they were under the Absolute’s influence? Well, that’s where the Emperor comes onto the stage.

Because, hear me out one more time: isn’t it convenient that the Emperor, of all people, finds the Astral Prism? A figure obsessed with freedom and manipulation, ambitious and clever, who would serve perfectly as a kind of protection shield from the Elder Brain’s influence for the gang? And to that even a disposable figure as it is a mind flayer who would not be trusted in the end.

(Naturally, in the game the player is the ultimate executional force, making any kind of higher plan or scheme either perfect or useless)

Nevertheless, this is as far as I will dive into this specific pond.

I just think it adds up nicely.

But Björni, if you have a Section 1, what about a Section 2? you might ask. Well, here it comes…

… how this ‘dissertation’ is actually about Mephistopheles being the ‘Mastermind’ behind the plot of Baldur’s Gate 3.

Section 2: Raphael as the Scapegoat

DnD’s lore about fiends—and, specifically, cambions—teaches us that they’re doomed to fail from birth. While they may think they’re in control of their schemes, they’re actually playing into the hands of their fiendish parent.

Ever wondered why Mephistopheles would even bother devouring Raphael if we defeat him? Sure, cambion sons are nourishing (yum yum), but given Mephistopheles’ personality, I’d guess he does it to humiliate his son, even in death, for being a failure—a failure to retrieve the crown for his father.

But wait, Mephistopheles already had the crown—why would he bother plotting all of this just to get it back? Isn’t that a bit over-the-top, Björni?

Bear with me: it’s not officially written anywhere, but it’s more or less canon based on what we know of the Archdevils Asmodeus and Mephistopheles.

Asmodeus rules the Hells, while Mephistopheles, as the Archduke of the 8th layer, Cania, is arguably the second most powerful being in Baator. Mephistopheles has never stopped dreaming of overthrowing Asmodeus, even after repeatedly failing miserably. But if he openly tried to use the crown against Asmodeus, it would be a direct affront, and Asmodeus would have shut it down from the start.

Mephistopheles has other children besides Raphael, and Raphael isn’t exactly useless, he’s actually the complete opposite. Strategically, it wouldn’t make sense to discard such a puppet (call him son)—unless Raphael had done something atrocious. And for someone as mighty as Mephistopheles, controlling his little cambion son would be child’s play. So, then why does Raphael hate his father so much, and why is Raphael ‘residing’ in Avernus?

As we know, Avernus is the armpit of Baator, a plane for exiles and outcasts.

I think Mephistopheles intentionally filled his relationship with Raphael with hatred, so Raphael’s ambition to overthrow his father would ignite and one day serve him. When Mephistopheles got the Crown of Karsus, unable to wield it himself, he set the stage for his son’s scheme—by casting Raphael aside, Mephistopheles set him on the path to steal the crown, with Mephistopheles only indirectly involved in overthrowing Asmodeus. Raphael would do the dirty work—taking over the other layers—before ultimately facing his father, who could then just snatch the crown from him. And yes, I do believe Mephistopheles is arrogant enough to think he’d still be more powerful than his son, even with a god-like artifact. He has that bloated of an ego.

BUT (Nr. 36,252), what about Asmodeus? Wouldn’t he step in and crush the plan?

Here’s the thing: Asmodeus generally doesn’t mind if his archdukes fight for control of their layers, as long as it doesn’t threaten his supreme authority or destabilize Hell’s hierarchy. In fact, he encourages a bit of rivalry and ambition among his archdevils, as infighting serves his purposes.

And can you imagine THE Asmodeus being worried about an over-ambitious cambion?

However, this leads to the TRUE instigator and the true subject of this ‘dissertation’…

… how Asmodeus is actually the ‘Mastermind’ behind the plot of Baldur’s Gate 3.

Section 3: Asmodeus doing things, just because

Joke’s on you—it’s been about Asmodeus all along, because even if he’d lose (not that he ever would—he’s just that powerful), he’d claim at the last minute that it was his plan all along. Losing trusted allies? What a bunch of traitors—perfect excuse to clean house. Losing Baator? Finally, he was sick of the job.

All jokes aside, Asmodeus being the cunning bastard he is, would likely pull off everything mentioned above.

To understand why he’d even bother, let’s take a quick (really quick, this is already getting too long) dive into his background and shenanigans in DnD.

Throughout DnD’s development from 1e to 5e, Asmodeus has gone through quite the evolution, eventually becoming a Greater Deity, the Embodiment of Evil, and one of the mightiest beings in existence, rivaled only by Ao.

While 5e keeps things vague to allow player interpretation, Asmodeus has consistently been the most powerful entity in the Hells—a schemer, strategist, and supreme manipulator.

(Here’s the only quote I’ll reference:) “[…] His sinister machinations could take centuries, if not millennia, to come to fruition, and his master plans extended across the entire multiverse. His labyrinthine, insidious intrigues could seem inexplicable to most outside observers, for Asmodeus let even his own servants stew in fear of his next move. With all the planes as his board, the Lord of Lies maneuvered the forces of evil like chess pieces in his grand designs, slowly and subtly manipulating everyone from deities to, when needed, lowly mortals.”

He’s described as being a thousand steps ahead of everyone. And while most of his plans serve greater purposes beyond even godly comprehension, some things he does just because—just for fun.

CONCLUSION

Of course Asmodeus knew Mephistopheles had the crown. Of course he knew Mephistopheles would never use it openly against him. And of course he knew Mephistopheles would keep scheming to use it indirectly, bringing his cambion son Raphael into the game.

Why would Asmodeus let all this happen, and why am I saying he’s the real mastermind?

Like already mentioned, Asmodeus often (indirectly) encourages and manipulates his archdukes to scheme and fight among themselves as a means to reinforce his dominance, foster survival of the fittest, and test loyalty within the infernal hierarchy. However, he maintains strict boundaries, and any conflict that risks his supreme authority, disrupts Hell’s role in the multiverse, or leads to excessive chaos would be swiftly and ruthlessly quashed. In Asmodeus’s mind, such rivalries are a useful tool—as long as they remain safely under his control.

In my view, the Crown of Karsus was never a real threat to him; this whole plot served his entertainment, tested loyalties, or helped him gauge his chess pieces.

And that’s how Asmodeus is the real mastermind behind the plot of Baldur’s Gate 3.

Thanks for reading this mass of nonsense ❤️

Why I even bothered with all this shit? It’s one of the key plot points in my longfic, Ah, You Devil!

[i-merani]

I was listening to an interview about Ukraine and the interviewer was talking how there's no empathy for russian soldiers "not asking for sympathy for the Russians as an invading force, but empathy for humans" is the direct quote and while yes empathy for humans should exist, highlighting this in this context is bizzare. He then follows saying that these are young soldiers and the west is celebrating when "they are sent to their mothers" (meaning celebrating their deaths).

And what struck me the most is him saying this: "Soldiers who've been sent to war not by their choice, they follow military, they follow orders". Quick question: how do you think defeated nazi soldiers were trying to avoid punishment for their war crimes? What "argument" was real popular, don't you remember? This exact "argument" is the reason why International Law actually explicitly states that if a higher ups in the war are forcing a soldier to execute unlawful acts, the soldier has the right and responsibility to refuse this order. In International Law "I was following orders" is not an admissible argument. If the Russian soldiers don't want to commit war crimes, they are, by law, obliged to refuse the orders. Yet the Russian army still stands, still committing war crimes in Ukraine. But yeah, poor russian young boys sent to their mothers…

Yes I do have empathy for brainwashed and indoctrinated youth of an authoritarian state, no I don't have empathy for war criminals.

[bones4thecats]

Hello 👋🏻

Could I request Heracles, Buddha and Hades finding out their s/o is cursed with immortality because she managed to kill several gods as a mortal? In her defense, she was being hunted down by the gods.

What If Their Immortal! S/O Was Cursed?

Type of Writing: Request Name: What If Their Immortal! S/O Was Cursed? Characters: Heracles, Buddha, and Hades Requester: Anonymous

A/N: The God that I used for the story to fit together for my writing is completely fake. He does not exist (that I am aware of) in any kind of mythology or religion.

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💪 Heracles has heard many stories from his fellow Gods about a 'God-Killing Human' and how dangerous they were that even they had taken down a former high-ranking God by the name of Merikh, who was the God of Death

💪 When you had killed said God, you were brought to the peak of a nearby mountain and offered by the humans as a sacrifice for your crimes against the Gods

💪 Zeus and a few others saw potential in you, so, instead of torturing you in many ways, like how they did Tantalus for trying to feed his son to them, they had gifted you with immortality, though you were not considered a God in their books

💪 You had been alive for a few centuries when Heracles became a God, but when you had first met him, you didn't confirm that you were the Immortal Killer of Gods, instead you said you were an average human with no value to him

💪 Heracles had bonded with you through many years, and the only reason he discovered you were immortal was when Ares had come with him and he had come across you after their training

" Oh! Ares, this is my- " " You know the Immortal Killer of Gods?! Heracles, you know what Dad'll say! " " Wait... you're the- WHAT?! "

💪 Despite trusting many despite their flaws, Heracles was very scared that you had lied to him about loving him and everything else. But, when he had spoken to his uncle Hades about it, he gained the knowledge that instead of immortality being a gift to you, it was more like curse for thinning their divine-numbers

💪 All of his concern about if you were lying had faded away, well, more like moved to the category of are you okay and what could you possibly be going through whenever coming across a divine being such as Heracles?

💪 But his biggest question was; why didn't you hate him?

💪 When you replied with how he had nothing to do with your sentencing and how it was your actions that led you to this, not his and how he didn't need to blame himself, he felt his heart melt and tears pocket in his eyes

💪 Despite living with such an everlasting and probably torturous life, you still do not hate those who punished you, you knew from the centuries you spent alone that this was what you should have expected. Though, Heracles still scolds you if you go into a depressive state of blaming yourself

" Dear, don't blame yourself. All humans makes mistakes! Myself included! Oh no, please don't cry anymore! Wait, no- "

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🍭 As a human-turned-God, Buddha did not really see any issue with being this. In fact, he found it nice to round about and spend the rest of his 'afterlife' relaxing and keeping up with his path of enlightenment, and he loved to help others get on that path as well

🍭 While he was alive, he had heard stories of a human that killed many Gods, including one by the name of Merikh, a Death God who had tried killing many children just because he could

🍭 Buddha could sense something was wrong with you when he first met you on his path to enlightenment, you were just sitting beside a random river while your long white and gold robes flowed in the air, while a thick line of face-paint laid on your eyes from one side to the other

🍭 He just felt that you were far to quiet for your own good. But, since you didn't get up and join his group, Buddha just smiled, waved, and went on his merry way, not expecting to see you ever again

🍭 But, when he had awoke as a God and took a small walk a few hundred years after, he had noticed a familiar form at the edge of the river; you.

🍭 Before your relationship even began, he knew you were a form of divine being. But, he had no idea how you had gained the power of immortality, but as far as he guess, you could have been born with it

🍭 So, when Brunhilde had come to him to ask if she could have you fight in the next round of Ragnarok against a new and dangerous God, he declined, saying he didn't want his delicate immortal S/O to die

🍭 Brunhilde had spilled the beans. Telling your story of killing God after God until you made it to Merikh centuries before Buddha's birth. But, unlike Heracles, Buddha doesn't view you differently, you were his S/O. Plain and simple.

" Brunhilde, I understand why you would want 'em to fight. They're strong, and that's plain to see when they glare at anyone. But, I am not letting them risk their life against some new douche from the Norse Pantheon. They're my S/O to protect and cherish, and I plan on doin' that for a long time, longer than these last few centuries. Do they're not doing it, got it? "

🍭 He also loves to just stand there and flip of Zeus with you, since he had cursed you in the first place and Buddha just didn't like the old geezer

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💀 Hades had known about you for centuries, as he was one of the Gods who was against torturing you, and instead just giving you a sentence of immortality to satisfy the lives lost of their allies

💀 This guy is very distant, even to most of his own Pantheon, so he always has had rumors floating around that he may be doing something behind everyone's back. Well, technically he was, but still- you get the point!

💀 Whenever Hades would go up to the surface and relax in the rare sunlight he ever gets, he would always try visiting you in your small home located deep within the forest

💀 He had noticed you had gotten used to being an immortal quite quick, and that shocked him. It had taken Heracles a little while to accept the fact that he was immortal himself, but you accepted it within a couple years while his was nearly double your time!

💀 Hades had asked you to be his one and only a few hundred years of knowing one another, and when you said yes, he just smiled and spun you around, thanking his fellow Gods for you being immortal like him

💀 But, Hades didn't understand how this had been affecting you internally...

💀 While you seemed to accept outliving everyone you cared about, on the inside, you were the complete opposite. You had had many panic attacks and nightmares of the Gods you had killed, especially the Death God, Merikh, in which you would wake up in a cold sweat

💀 The only reason that he found out was because of your small friendship with Hermes, who was a well-known gossiper. He had found out about your nightmares getting worse and had confronted his uncle about it, not sparing a detail, much to your annoyance

💀 Hades had come to you directly and, while you were away, had his servants move your things from your home to his. He didn't do this to observe you more- well, he kinda did, I guess- BUT. He mainly did it because you were married and married couples live together!

💀 Yeah right

💀 It only took a couple nights together for your nightmares to calm down, as feeling the lovingly-tight grip your husband had on your midsection made you feel protected and adored instead of hunted and hated for your actions of the past

" Sweet-Skull, you have no need to cry over such an event happening to you. As long as I am here, nobody, and I mean nobody, will ever come close to harming you again. "