#mentioned: theodore || the philosopher

[ask-idv-archeologist]

How do you know the Philosopher? What are your thoughts on them?

"O..Oh! Theo? I actually ran into him before coming to the manor. Ah well.. it’s more of he came across me on one of his little.. erm world understanding adventures. We also both happened to be participating in the same manor game. He’s one of those leader types, a real nice person! A bit eccentric and very curious but.. he’s also very helpful! ..Much more helpful than I am…"

[sadclowncentral]

I wanna hear your top 5 bullshit philosophers! (Dropped out of my german philosophy graduate degree a few years back myself. Minima Moralia even was in the toilet book pile in my previous flat)

oh, with certain pleasure. please keep in mind that i don't think that these philosophers are bullshitting, neither am i making any judgement on their merit as philosophers - these are simply my most quoted philosophers, and when i invoke their name in casual conversation to deal psychic damage to my friends, i certainly am bullshitting. now you can also do the same to your friends and hit them with austrian philosopher ludwig wittgenstein because they burned the pizza! so here are, in no particular order:

5 quotable philoposphy texts to invoke in casual conversation

On Certainty, by Ludwig Wittgenstein (1984) - link to text

to be able to say "my god, Wittgenstein was right. there are no certainties" every time something new and excitingly terrifying happens on the news or when the bus doesn't come

Theodicy by Freiherr von Gottfried Leibniz (1710) - link to pdf

to be able to say "no Leibniz was right, this is the best of all possible worlds" to absolutely derail any conversation about god being real or when you are eating a really good cookie

Economy and Society, by Max Weber (1921) - link to pdf

to be able to say "weber was right, bureaucracy only serves itself" as a poignant critique about how institutions can prevent progress and also when complaining about the long line at the DMV

Technology of the Self, by Michel Foucault (1982) - link to text

to be able to say "fuck, focault was right, self-optimization is a disease" to discuss the ruse of modern "self-care" in the oppressive context of capitalism and to throw at that one friend who is a bit too much on that grind

The Logic of Scientific Discovery, by Karl Popper (1959), link to pdf

to be able to say "karl popper was right, proven wrong once again!" whenever new exiting science gets published, you admit defeat in a stupid argument that went on too long, or when you see a black swan (let me know!).

and last but not least, honourable mention:

On Jazz, by Theodor W Adorno (1980) - link to pdf

to be able to say "adorno was so wrong, this music goes hard" whenever jazz comes on to remind all your friends that adorno had some truly unhinged takes about jazz of all things. seriously why did he say all that

that's all. don't forget to have fun and be yourself and cite your sources!

[pepsichrry]

Theo Nott Headcannons/Information

Information:

•Theo was mentioned in the Harry Potter books (The Philosopher’s Stone, Order of the Phoenix).

•He is only referred to as ‘Nott’ during the sorting ceremony in book 1.

•He isn’t mentioned until book 5 as one of the only three students in the Care of Magical Creatures class who are able to see Thestrals, meaning that he had witnessed somebody die. He supposedly found it unpleasant as he watched one eat and he wasn’t fond of the creatures.

•His appearances in the books are described as ‘weedy’ and ‘stringy’ meaning that he is likely canonically tall and thinly built.

•It is unclear when he is born, but it is said that his father was an older or elderly man who had been previously involved with the Deatheater Army during the First Wizarding War.

•Theodore was mentioned by Hermione in 1996 as one of the group of Slytherin boys whose fathers had been outed as Deatheaters by the magazine ‘The Quibbler’. His reaction seemed to differ from his friends as his reaction was the only one which was not specifically threatening or negative, suggesting indifference.

•At the end of his Fifth Year, Theodore Nott Sr. was captured in the Department of Mysteries as a member of Deatheater forces who participated in a raid of the Department and was exposed as an escaped Deatheater.

•With his father in Azkaban and his mother seemingly dead, it is unspecified who cared for Theodore during the summer holidays.

•In sixth year, Theodore was not asked to attend the Slug Club due to his fathers involvement with the Dark Lord, this is because of Professor Slughorns inquiry about Theo’s family from Blaine Zabini, who was later invited to the Club.

•Theodore was one of the few students who progressed to N.E.W.T level Potions. They seemed to poke fun of Hermiones Blood-Status and were skeptical of the effects of Amorentia.

•He attended his Seventh year at Hogwarts and was treated well due to his Blood Status.

•At the Battle of Hogwarts, it is unclear whether he joined Voldemorts side or Evacuated, but since he is not shown or mentioned defecting to the Deatheaters before the Battle, we can assume that he didn’t end up fighting with the Deatheaters.

•It is also mentioned that he was later taken into custody for owning illegal Timeturners. We can infer from this that he could possibly have made them with dark magic, or he bought them for a hefty price. (Said in TCC, so possibly not Canon).

•Theo is mentioned to be very intelligent, but more of a Loner, since he didn’t participate in many groups like the one led by Draco Malfoy.

Headcannons:

•Theodore watched his mother die when he was young, leaving him in the sole care of his father, who was a cold and bitter man.

•Theo didn’t have many friends when he was younger except for Draco Malfoy, but he opened up slightly more at Hogwarts, though he still liked his alone time.

•He had a set path for him created by his father. He was supposed to work in the ministry and provide for a family, but Theo wanted to be a Potioneer like his uncle and much of his other family on his mother’s side.

•Theo’s mother left all of her belongings to him, and made sure that his father wouldn’t be able to take possession of any of it. In his inheritance, he gained a large portion of money and an estate in rural Italy.

•His mother was from Florence, Italy and was married to his father through an arranged marriage, where she suffered abuse from Theodore Nott Sr. She died slowly due to a failed suicide attempt.

•Theodore had trouble connecting with people because of his parent’s relationship and the things that he’d witnessed in his childhood. He feared becoming his father more than anything, so he did all that he could to prevent it from happening.

•He’d never had a real relationship and never would despite how many girls he’d slept with. He didn’t want a commitment.

•Despite how quiet he was, Theo was a very funny person and to his friends, he was often the life of the party

•Theo was prone to addiction and often used unhealthy coping mechanisms like smoking, drinking and drug use, though he only took drugs at parties.

•Much like Draco, Theo took the Dark Mark as a punishment for his father’s mistakes, not out of willingness. He received it a week after his fifteenth birthday and struggled to adjust.

•He was 6’2” feet tall

•He tanned very nicely in the summer, leaving him with smooth, olive skin just like his mother’s.

•During the Battle of Hogwarts, Theo ran away with Blaise Zabini, purely because he wanted to avoid fighting people that he’d previously called friends.

•As his life went on, Theo learned from his mistakes and prejudices and slowly but surely became a better person. He was clean by the time he was 20.

•As a request from the Dark Lord, Theo created a Timeturner for him. But since he’d learned how to do it, he created more and gifted one to the Malfoy Family and kept one for himself. He didn’t use it to change the past, but he’d travel back to his old house to watch his past, specifically, to watch his mother, trying to piece together parts of her life and his. It was the only way of truly knowing and remembering her because he was so young when she died.

•Theo died before he turned 30, ending the Nott family line. He’d died alone after taking his own life to avoid being sent to Azkaban for his possession of illegal Timeturners.

•He lived a life of longing for love without receiving it. Secretly, he wished for a loving relationship and a family, but he didn’t want to repeat the cycle of abuse that he was trapped in. He felt that his family line didn’t deserve to be continued, he felt that he was atoning for their sins by ending it.

[morlock-holmes]

So, that excerpt from Theodor Adorno's Minima Moralia was quite interesting and so I decided I should put Adorno on my list, and I googled best Adorno translation which led me to this reddit thread which contains the following comment from user QuesyCampaign:

If you end up with the Ashton translation of [Negative Dialectics] (the only English translation to have been printed), there are some common terms that are completely mistranslated that you can just mentally adjust for (Jameson mentions a few of these in his Late Marxism): Vermittlung and related words often translated as "transmission", "transmitted", etc. - should be mediation/mediated. As in the disastrous "Transmission is transmitted by what it transmits". Anschauung translated as "vision" instead of the accepted English rendering "intuition" in philosophical contexts. Direct/indirect - if you ever see these, replace with "immediate/mediate". None of this will help with the significant failure to do justice to Adorno's German, nor with those sentences that just don't make sense, but they should help. If you ever work on or need to cite a passage, make sure you consult the German and the other translations first!

Guys, is it possible that a lot of continental philosophy's reputation as obtuse and incomprehensible is just because the people translating it are really bad at their jobs?

[hollowed-theory-hall]

How many muggleborns actually are there in the UK?

So, I think, the first thing I post here should be what started my HP theorizing journey. Which was an IRL friend asking me how many muggleborns even are there in the Wizarding World to cause this much strife?

So strap on in for a journey of demographic statistics and me documenting every name in the book and their blood status like someone who actually cares (I don't, but I do have some things to say about blood status, inbreeding, and magical genetics, but that's a whole different post)

So, when I started thinking about how to figure out what percentage of muggleborns are in the British Wizarding World, I decided to start simple. Harry's year (according to JKR's notes and Harry Potter and Me) has 40 students. Fewer are mentioned by name in the books, but I created the closest approximation on these 40 students according to book information and notes from JK.

(In general, book canon precedes any other source)

Harry's year is a good start since it gives us a look at all wizards and witches born in the UK in the same year, as it seems all Hogwarts years are similar in size. So this is a good enough rough approximation of blood status across the wizarding world in the UK as a whole (and the one we have the most information about).

Some definitions about blood status and the way it seems to be treated in the books so we'll all be on the same page:

Muggleborn - a wizard with two muggle parents

Pure-Blood - a wizard with two magical parents of which none are muggleborn and at least one is pure blood (i.e a child of a half-blood and a pure blood would be considered a pure blood for this list)

Half-Blood - Only one magical parent who isn't a muggleborn

At least one magical parent - a character we knew for sure isn't muggleborn but do not have further information.

So without further ado, here are the 40 wizards in Harry's year:

In Gryffindor:

Harry Potter - Half-Blood - Book text

Ronald Weasley - Pure-Blood - Book text

Dean Thomas - Half-Blood - Book text

Seamus Finnigan - Half-Blood - Book text

Neville Longbottom - Pure-Blood - Book text

Hermione Granger - Muggleborn - Book text

Praviti Patil - Most Likely Pure Blood - In book 1, Praviti and Pansy Parkinson are shown to be on a first-name basis and familiar from before Hogwarts. I don't see the blood purists Parkinsons being acquainted with who they consider "lesser blood".

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. “Never thought you’d like fat little crybabies, Parvati.” - Philosopher Stone, page 108

Lavender Brown - Pure-Blood - According to Harry Potter and Me Notes.

In Slytherin:

Millicent Bulstrode - Most Likely Pure Blood - due to the Bulstrode family appearing in the Sacred Twenty-Eight. (I'm aware in JK's notes mentioned in Harry Potter and Me, Millicent is described as a half-blood, but as many of the characters there didn't make it into the book, they are less canon than the book information)

Vincent Crabbe - Pure-Blood - Book text

Tracy Davis - Half-Blood - According to Harry Potter and Me Notes.

Gregory Goyle - Pure-Blood - Book text

Daphne Greengrass - Pure-Blood - The Greengrass family appears in the Sacred Twenty-Eight

Draco Malfoy - Pure-Blood - Book text

Theodore Nott - Pure-Blood - The Nott family appears in the Sacred Twenty-Eight (Nott's grandfather/great-grandfather is also the most likely to have written it)

Pansy Parkinson - Pure-Blood - The Parkinson family appears in the Sacred Twenty-Eight

Blaise Zabini - Pure-Blood - Book text

In Hufflepuff:

Hanna Abbott - Pure-Blood - The Abbott family appears in the Sacred Twenty-Eight

Susan Bones - Most Likely Pure Blood - Mentioned to have multiple magical relatives including Amalia Bones (Head of the DMLE) a prominent figure in the incredibly corrupt Ministry of Magic that practically runs on nepotism (a subject fro a different post, probably).

Justin Finch-Fletchley - Muggleborn - Book text

Wayne Hopkins - Half-Blood - According to Harry Potter and Me Notes.

Megan Jones - Most Likely Pure Blood - Mentioned to have multiple magical relatives (even if the wiki calls them half-bloods, there are a lot of wizards from this family).

Ernest Macmillan - Pure-Blood - The Macmillan family appears in the Sacred Twenty-Eight

Zacharias Smith - Most Likely Pure Blood - As someone who brags of being a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff and being able to trace magical lineage so far back.

In Ravenclaw:

Terry Boot - At Least One Magical Parent - As he goes to Hogwarts during the 1997-1998 school year when muggleborns were forbidden from doing so.

Mandy Brocklehurst - Half-Blood - According to Harry Potter and Me Notes.

Michael Corner - Half-Blood - According to Harry Potter and Me Notes.

Stephen Cornfoot - Pure-Blood - According to Harry Potter and Me Notes.

Anthony Goldstein - Half-Blood - According to Harry Potter and Me Notes.

Sue Li - Half-Blood - According to Harry Potter and Me Notes.

Morag MacDougal - Pure-Blood - According to Harry Potter and Me Notes.

Padma Patil - Most Likely Pure Blood - Same as Praviti Patil.

Lisa Turpin - At Least One Magical Parent - Most likely. This is a character nothing is stated about, but I assume that if she was muggleborn it would have been mentioned during the second war.

Unknown House:

Oliver Rivers - At Least One Magical Parent - Same reasoning as Lisa Turpin.

Roger Malone - At Least One Magical Parent - Same reasoning as Lisa Turpin.

Lily Moon - Most Likely Pure Blood - Has other magical relatives of the name Moon across HP media.

Sally-Anne Perks - At Least One Magical Parent - Same reasoning as Lisa Turpin.

Sophie Roper - At Least One Magical Parent - Same reasoning as Lisa Turpin along with other wizards with the same surname.

Runcorn - Most Likely Pure Blood - As she is likely related to Albert Runcorn who worked in the Ministry of Magic under the Death Eaters' rule and worked as an intimidator and blackmailer of alleged muggleborns.

Sally Smith - Most Likely Pure Blood - As she is likely related to Zacharias Smith.

From this we see that we have:

23/40 = 57.5% Pure-Blood and Most Likely Pure Blood

9/40 = 22.5% Half-Blood

6/40 = 15% At Least One Magical Parent

2/40 = 5% Muggleborn

This kind of percentage is one we see among the Order of the Phoenix (another group of wizards who accept muggleborns and we have information about their blood status) as well. So, it's not just Harry's generation that is low on muggleborns, but that muggleborns are a very small percentage of the wizarding population.

At the Order's peak in members during the First War (therefore before most potential mass muggleborn killings) it had 25 members, and I'll make this list shorter:

Pure-Blood: 8/25 = 32%

Alastor Moody, Alice Longbottom, Elphias Doge, Fabian Prewett, Frank Longbottom, Gideon Prewett, James Potter, Sirius Black

Most Likely Pure Blood: 6/25 = 24%

Dedalus Diggle, Edgar Bones, Emmeline Vance, Marlene McKinnon, Peter Pettigrew, Sturgis Podmore

Half-Blood: 6/25 = 15%

Albus Dumbledore, Aberforth Dumbledore, Mundungus Fletcher, Remus Lupin, Reberus Hagrid, Severus Snape

At Least One Magical Parent: 3/25 = 12%

Benjy Fenwick, Caradoc Dearborn, Dorcas Meadows

Muggleborn: 1/25 = 4%

Lily Potter

-----

Only one of the Order members is a muggleborn - Lily Potter.

The fact that even among a group like the Order of the Phoenix (who fought against Voldemort and blood-purists) we see practically no muggleborns just proves the above statistics in Harry's year are the norm. There is probably one or two muggleborns who arrive every year at Hogwarts and they are, overall, a very small present of the population.

This is kind of interesting to me in terms of how much of an issue their very existence is made to be for some wizards in the books, and I thought I should share it since I never see anyone doing maths to calculate population statistics and demographics for the Wizarding Wolrd.

At some point, I should post about the death rates of the two wars with Voldemort along with other stats and timelines I've calculated.

[moriartyluver]

FALSE LOVERS CHAPTER XVI

"I ACCEPT YOUR REQUEST" A harmonious voice asked from the other side of the wooden grid in the abandoned chapel's confession stall. "Are you prepared for anything, even if it means losing your life?"

Another consultation.

"of course! Cough. In any case, my body's been taken over by illness, and I won't last much longer. I merely have one wish.." The middle aged man managed to cough out. "And if this'll make that man suffer and get a taste of hell on earth...then I'll gladly give up my life!"

"I'll send you word of the plan at a later time," William responded "until then, wait for my instructions."

"We found this man through Fred's information network but what do you think? Can we trust him?" Sebastian asked while they sat in the carriage with (name) sat beside William.

Ever since her parents visit, she had been acting strange. The other had seen her as a ticking time bomb. She had managed to put up a facade on the last day of her parents' visit of being completely fine and happy, even though the grand duke and duchess still felt guilty for bringing up such a topic at such a cheerful dinner. She was also avoiding the other members of the team (Fred and Moran had heard about the disastrous dinner from Josephine) and especially william after their encounter in the bedroom, which she had seen to be a mere mistake and on the day of their anniversary, she had stayed in her bedroom the entire day, planning her own schemes as of a spark had been relit in for her desire to dissolve the British empire.

Of course she would still interact with the others but it had seemed that all she was now was some sort of machine who only spoke of work or business related affairs. Even when William had told (name) he had recommended her to work at Durham university to cheer her up, after two year of trying to get a job as a professor and then giving up, she had only reacted plainly, thanking him as though he had meant nothing to her. To everyone this seemed reasonable but William was especially curious regarding the death of Arden, considering (name) had caused it yet was upset about it all the same.

(Name) couldn't have cared less about Arden's death though. She had massacred so many people during that time period that she had somehow numbed herself to the feeling of grief of guilt. She wouldn't have felt guilt anyways, this was all for the sake of avenging her deceased brother.

That particular evening, she wished her parents  hadn't mentioned anything. Of course, they were worried for her but all it had done was being back unpleasant memories and guilt she had tried to bury. William was the only person she knew who could distract her from such. Their not-quite-a-friendship in university had meant a lot to her despite not admitting it because whether it be heated Philosophical debates, study sessions or chess matches, the presence of the blond had always helped her forget whatever had troubled her.

"He has a rather powerful grudge against that noble. However the noble is so well guarded that he can't even get to him which is why he is despairing.." (name) spoke

Viscount Arden, Theodore Arden's father, wasn't as well guarded, she thought. Still, with her lack of experience at the time when it came to scheming and crime, (name) had used the man she was courting to her advantage.

Each night after every little rendezvous between the 'couple', (name) would, after she would cause Theodore to fall asleep and once she had slipped out of his arms, look around his manor. During the first of these few secret meetings, (name) had gathered enough blackmail, which she had prepared in case Scotland Yard, (or worse, the government) questioned her regarding the soon to be deaths of not only Viscount Arden, but his children and wife too. It was a small price to pay for her brother.

It's not like he would approve though. (Brother's name) was always a kind person, a pacifist, a boy who helped those in need and would never kill another or even think an unkind thought about anyone.

She clenched her fists.

It was unfair. It was so unjust that such a good person was removed from this world all because of this damn empire. If she could sacrifice herself to bring him back in her place, she would. (Brothers name) should have been the heir. (Brothers name) should have attended university. (Brothers name) should have lived instead of her.

Even after all the people she had killed, she still felt no satisfaction.

"Indeed...His death is so close and it's filling him with loneliness. He has no attachment to this world aside from his desire for revenge." William said as he looked over at (name), who looked back, almost as if they were non verbally communicating. It was as if he was wondering if (name) was in fact the same. He had found in his research that may have been the case. "we can trust those kinds of people."

"Is that so.." The dark haired man rested his arm on his seat "and that Holmes man or whatever he's called.. if it looks like he'll become a problem, tell me. I'll kill him any time."

(Name)'s face had a short flicker of a frown on it, but she promptly returned to her neutral expression as she tore her gaze away from William and back to the late night scenery outside the window.

"Thank you, Moran but wait a little bit longer. I have a plan."

As William and (name) had expected, the plan was indeed a success in revealing the sort of man Sherlock Holmes, the worlds only consulting detective, was.

William turned to his wife as she kept her hand on his arm "Our audition has definitely borne fruit, hasn't it (name)?"

(Name) gave william a curt nod as they walked through Baker Street, watching as a crowd surrounded 221B where sherock Holmes resided and was currently standing outside of wearing a deerstalker hat and cloak alongside another man she couldn't recognise but knew of as Arthur Conan Doyle, or John Watson.

"An expected success.." she whispered

William titled his top hat "The test we had set up to see he had the certain qualities needed whether or not he was the type of man who would stop at nothing to reach his success."

"Even with the promise of information on all of us, he still didn't go along with Hope's preposition." Moran sighed in confusion

"Based on your calculations of Holme's commitment to satisfy his curiosity, there was a 60% chance he would kill Hope." Louis said as they all walked down a mysterious alleyway.

"And yet he didn't go through with it..." Josephine muttered under her breath

"we don't shy away from doing anything to get what we want but he does," uttered Fred quietly "So does that mean he's the person we're looking for?"

"His deduction skills are definitely irreproachable but surely, your plan didn't account for him turning into 'master detective Sherlock Holmes' overnight, did it (nickname), Will?" Although the smog and mist seemed to be enveloping the group, (name) could sense Albert's smirk.

"From now on we shall be the ones to put an end to the evil demons of the privileged classes that cannot be handled by the yard or our justice system..." William lifted his hat off his head with a swoop "..And mr holmes will solve the incidents and convey to the world the depravity of those nobles..He is just a man who will bring light onto the shadows of the world..

..Sherlock Holmes."

"(Name)? You've been here all day.." a soft voice called out to her.

"I found this one book on Pythagoras' most influential mathematics theories..I've been distracted since." A small (name) responded as the boy sat beside her. "Besides, I've been terribly bored as of late."

The older boy chuckled as he sat beside his sister, leaning against the bookshelf in the largest library of the grand dukedom. There were multiple others, but this one was alway both of their favourites

He took the book out of her hand with a gentle smile, but (name) couldn’t see his face. It was a blur.

"Hey! I was reading that!" (Name) frowned

(Brothers name) flipped through the pages, skimming them as his fading face managed to hold various different expressions, some of confusion, others of understanding.

"Mother and father did tell you that you should rest, didn't they? In fact, to quote mother, I should 'take whatever book you're reading and eat a page in front of you' if that's what it takes for you to rest for the first time in your life."  He said, shutting the book then handing it back to her, patting her head whilst she glared at him "Of course, I could never do that to my little sister, but they are right, you know. You're only 8 years old and you've already read all the fiction books in all 4 of the libraries and father caught you sneaking into his office to read some ancient political documents for (home country)"

The (hair colour)-ette pouted childishly. Only with (brothers name) did she ever feel the freedom to act in such a manner.

"But I like reading!"

"So do I, but you don't catch me reading books 24/7," her brother looked at her irritated expression with a smile "Then again, you're probably the smartest (last name) there is, and that's certainly saying something. You're bound to get bored at some point. I do wish you would use that brain for good."

"You're intelligent too, idiot." (Name) said as she rested her head on his shoulder

"That's quite the contradictory statement"

"That's quite the contradictory facial structure."

The brunette gasped dramatically and placed a hand to his chest "I'll have you know there are multiple girls waiting in line to court me!" They were both joking as siblings do, though. The 18 year old was actually well sought after in (home country) and even other countries.

(Name) rolled her (eye colour) eyes"I think they should all see optometrists."

(Brothers name) couldn't even bring himself to be upset at that point. He let out a strange sort of choked laugh that sounded as though he were a hyena, or like someone was rubbing two balloons together.

"Touché, touché," he managed to say as he wiped a tear from his eye.

"Did mother send you after me?" (Name) asked curiously. She had skipped an etiquette lesson that day and she hoped her mother would allow her to brush it off. It's not like she was impolite anyways. Her mentality was that if she smiled and used big words, her etiquette would be fine.

"Nope. Your governess didn't mention anything to her. I think she might be sick of you," (brothers name) said as he stood up and placed a fallen book back in its designated place. "They are right when they say you should use your intellect for good, you know. You just seem to absorb it all and then hoard it like a goblin."

"Look who's talking..!"

"You know what I mean though," he said, stifling another laugh "Mother and father don't want to boost your ego to become larger than it already is but you are their pride and joy. The little gem of (home country). I saw a letter coming from the United Kingdom make its way into fathers office the other day. It had their Queen's seal on it. I wouldn't be surprised if it was a request to make you into a Princess there."

(Name) grimaced "Ew no! I'm only 8! I cant even tie my shoelaces!" She made an obnoxious gaging noise "How would I even marry a prince who's probably wayyy older than me. The nerve of that queen! Her husband died only a few years ago and now she wants to arrange me to marry one of her sons!"

"Father would never allow it. Mother would much rather burn down Buckingham palace than sell you off to them." He continued "After all they've done to (home country)..."

She saw her brother clench his fist. She had never seen him angry before. To (name), he was a peaceful boy, she was always a bit more of the problem child. He could occasionally be protective of her, but that was because she was her older brother. Unknown to her, 9 year old (brother's name) had promised from the day (name) was born, to protect his little sister no matter what.

"Aren't you off to study there in a few months?" (Name) asked

He nodded "Next month is your birthday and then three months afterwards, I'm taking a ship there to study at Oxford. Study hard, (name). Then we can go together."

"But I'm a bit too young—"

He kneeled down to his sister, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eye "(name), for you, age won't matter in getting into university. Nor will your gender..it may be difficult but knowing you, you get everything you put your mind to. Besides, I over heard mother speaking to your mathematics tutor, he said he thinks you'll be able to study alongside other university student by the time you're 16, and you'll finish in half the time needed. There's no need to worry...just study hard and use that brain to become great, if not for yourself then for me."

She nodded, a determined smile on her face.

"For you, brother."

"(Name)...wake up.."  She heard a soft voice call out to her as she was gently shook awake.

Her eyes slowly opened. She could feel a little teardrop fall onto the paper her face was rested again. She lifted her head up to see William sat beside her in the candle light along with the new unarmed kitten sleeping on her lap. (Name) rubbed at the small ink stain on her cheek.

"Has the morning come already..?"

He shook his head and then gestured to the door with a head tilt.

By the door frame, (name) could make out four people stood with only the lamp illuminating their features. She winced then rubbed her eyes again. Fred was there alongside Moran and Josephine and Louis who was holding the lamp behind them.

"I...I have information for you...Lord William, Lady (name).." Fred stuttered out

(Name) raised a brow. If it was a normal mission or request, Fred would usually arrive in the morning. From the sky that (name) could see in the overhead glass windows, it was still night. This must have been urgent and based on the expressions each of them held, it was.

"Fred," William smiled reassuringly "Take your time and start from the beginning."

The boy lifted his eyes from the floor and looked at the two at the desk. "Y-Yes, sir! From what I’ve heard, the children were taken to Dartmoor..I fear that the manhunts are still going on..!”

“Dartmoor? Enders’ old hunting ground..?” (Name) repeated. Ah, someone else must have started going on manhunts in his stead.

Fred nodded “What’s worse is that these monsters are kidnapping defenceless children from the slums for to murder for their own entertainment! The yard won’t care if a few of them disappeared, they’re only encouraging these blood thirsty nobles to continue their hunt..!”

(Name)’s eyes widened. This was possibly more extreme than most of the missions they had done. Most of the time, they would only target a single aristocrat at a time but this clearly involved more people. And from the way Fred, who was usually so calm and quiet, was getting heated, it showed the urgency of the situation.

“It’s not right!! They think of commoners as less than human…and decide they can do as they please with us!!”

William put a hand to his chin in thought then dropped it down to his lap “I see…thank you for the information, Fred.”

“So..someone is continuing Ender’s barbarous manhunt..?” (Name) thought aloud, still half asleep

“Fred..your role to cause a collapse of the class system,” William said “is to collect information and make sure I never do the same thing twice, correct?”

William had read him like a book.

“n-not at all, sir..I know this information is useless—“

“It’s not useless at all,” the blond interrupted “I have always been doing what I can to be of help to all of the people I meet. However, to eradicate all of these devils at once, we must destroy the foundation they’re standing on, the class system so that no more evil like them can take root. H the class system of britain is nothing but a curse. In order to destroy it, we must have the people question its very existence. The method we’ve chosen to reveal this wickedness is through crimes.” William clenched his fist “Yes indeed, to reach one’s goal, one must be prepared to make sacrifices. The evil we have committed in order to destroy this class system may never disappear, but that’s the price I’m willing to pay to eradicate these devils.”

“Lord William..”

“If the law and the police won’t judge that evil…then only another evil can do so..” a strange feeling of deja vu washed over (name) as William spoke. “We will be that evil, these manhunts need not to continue any longer.”

“S-sir!” Fred exclaimed in surprise

“The carriage will come at dawn, we will need to be quick if we want to catch it. I shall join you.”

(Name) finally spoke up “I’m coming too.” She insisted.

William gave her a hesitant nod as he continued “Go make preparations quickly if necessary.”

“Understood sir!”

As the four left the two in the office, Fred went ahead, almost excited, as he went to make preparations.

“We’re preparing for another job then,” Louis said

“Yeah..and right at dawn too..” Moran trailed off, looking down at Fred hurrying down the stairs. “Fred always thought of William as some sort of bigger than life existence..though, I suppose we all have quite an unusual relationship, don’t we?”

Louis and Josephine nodded simultaneously. The latter knew she would probably have to stay behind this time around. (Name) had forbidden her from going on missions that may be too visceral for her to handle. Josephine had easily figured out that it was because (name) seemed to worry about her so much, even though she thought (name) should be worrying about herself and her poor habits. It was likely because of her previous experiences in the poorer parts of london and her experience with Ashfordshire. She would never complain, but sometimes she felt the deep desire to be by her saviour’s side, just to be of use to her so she could repay her for all she had done for her.

“Yes..although William can be quite distant sometimes..”. Louis muttered “So I think I can understand how Fred was feeling..”

“That feeling of not being able to do repay your benefactor..” the brunette agreed “it’s familiar..”

Moran looked at the two in disbelief “come on, you two! You’re exaggerating!” The both looked at him with a serious look “Jesus! Every one of you!”

He looked at Louis “look, you’re not like Fred, you and William are brothers! You’ve no need to act reserved around him!” He then turned to Josephine “and you..! (Name) practically treats you like you’re her daughter or something..! Just tell ‘em both what you want to say..!”

Louis looked up in thought “Perhaps I should..”

Things didn’t seem as easy for Josephine though, she and (name) weren’t biologically related and she was still her subordinate . With the way (name) was acting recently, she felt it would be best if she kept her distance. She felt a little hurt that her mistress couldn’t turn to her now when she seemed so troubled. She nodded and left to her chambers to take care of the manor whilst the others were gone on their mission.

“Indeed! Well, see you in a bit then!”

A/N: icl this chapter was kinda dead. Deader than fls brother. Fl needs to stop self sabotaging ong. Also I hope the sibling dynamic between fl and her brother is actually realistic because I’m sick of siblings written by only children and they call each other “sis” or “bro” unironically. As someone with four siblings we just call each other insults lol

[ariapmdeol]

Dunno if anyone has asked this before, but WHAT HAPPENED IN THE CHAINSAW SCENE?? YOU KNOW WHICH ONE--

i was just very confused about who did what to whom,,

The chainsaw scene is in Hermit's room, in Soundfile 1954.04! I'll tuck the answer under the cut (has spoilers for Hermit's Room, DLC, and mentions of things from the artbook.). Enjoy this relevant gif.

I'm probably forgetting things that I should mention... If i have, then it'll come up again another time o7

We don't see much; Seodore was upset with Mutei and Rangiri over something that they did. He doesn't want them to use his fragments/pieces (these pieces are L/Lapicine/Philosopher's stones/Lime Azure). Seo had a chainsaw, tried to kill himself with it (decapitation), and Mutei tried to stop him. Rangiri tried to keep Mutei from getting closer. This takes place months after Rumeld's death.

The artbook shows Seodore's scar (around his neck).

I'm pretty sure this is a) When Mutei got himself sent to the Hermit's Room, b) When Rangiri got brain damage, and c) the start of the Fragment Shenanigans. Hajime was born about year after this incident and he's the First, and both Rangiri's mental instability and Mutei's disappearance are referenced to take place within a few years of this date. TLDR: the decapitation scattered fragments of Seodore.

Things to note:

Seodore was already immortal before the Chainsaw. Since 1912, he hasn't been aging and he's been eternally 25.

The Lime Azure (mentioned in record 4) is a gemstone (philosopher's stone). It sank with the Polaris (and Theodore Riddle) in 1912. Seodore is the goddamn rock. Philosopher's stones were also used by Mutei to make Factor Artifacts (Sanemitsu's Rainbow Pen, Enein's Blue Hilt, and The Red and Green Artifacts that are probably with Kado and Sueko Orie). Rangiri used his to make medicine (miracle cures) and also fed the last piece he had to Utsugi. I'm not going to go on the rock tangent right now but keep an eye out for mentions of yellow (and blue), and Gifts and Sephirah.

Mutei says that someone else completed his Fool's journey in an unexpected way, and thus he became a Hermit. The person mentioned here is (probably*) Seodore.

[thisurlwasnttakenbutnowitis]

Characters in The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny who have appeared in an Epic Rap Battle of History:

Godzilla: ✅

Batman: ✅

Shaq: ❌*

Aaron Carter: ❌

Abraham Lincoln: ✅

Optimus Prime: ❌

Jackie Chan: ❌**

Indiana Jones: ✅

Care Bears: ❌

Chuck Norris: ✅

Gandalf the Gray: ✅

Gandalf the White: ✅

Monty Python and the Holy Grail's Black Knight: ❌

Benito Mussolini: ❌

Blue Meanie: ❌

Cowboy Curtis: ❌

Jambi the Genie: ❌

Robocop: ✅

The Terminator: ✅

Captain Kirk: ✅

Darth Vader: ✅

Lo Pan: ❌

Superman: ✅

Power Rangers: ❌

Bill S. Preston: ✅

Theodore Logan: ✅

Spock: ❌***

The Rock: ❌

Doc Ock: ❌

Hulk Hogan: ✅

Mr. Rogers: ✅

*Mentioned in Vlad the Impaler vs Count Dracula but has not appeared

**Mentioned in Eastern Philosophers vs Western Philosophers but has not appeared

***Makes a cameo in Columbus vs Captain Kirk but has not been a rapper

[aioleis]

Arcades Project

Das Passagen-Werk or Arcades Project was an unfinished project of German philosopher and cultural critic Walter Benjamin, written between 1927 and his death in 1940.

An enormous collection of writings on the city life of Paris in the 19th century, it was especially concerned with Paris' iron-and-glass covered "arcades" (known in French as the passages couverts de Paris).

Benjamin's Project, which many scholars believe might have become one of the great texts of 20th-century cultural criticism, was never completed due to his suicide on the French-Spanish border in 1940. The Arcades Project has been posthumously edited and published in many languages as a collection of unfinished reflections. The work is mainly written in German, yet also contains French-language passages, mainly quotes.

Parisian arcades began to be constructed around the beginning of the nineteenth century and were sometimes destroyed as a result of Baron Haussmann's renovation of Paris during the Second French Empire (ca. 1850–1870). Benjamin linked them to the city's distinctive street life and saw them as providing one of the habitats of the flâneur (i.e., a person strolling in a locale to experience it).

Benjamin first mentioned the Arcades Project in a 1927 letter to his friend Gershom Scholem, describing it as his attempt to use collage techniques in literature. Initially, Benjamin saw the Arcades as a small article he would finish within a few weeks.

However, Benjamin's vision of the Arcades Project grew increasingly ambitious in scope until he perceived it as representing his most important creative accomplishment. On several occasions Benjamin altered his overall scheme of the Arcades Project, due in part to the influence of Theodor Adorno, who gave Benjamin a stipend and who expected Benjamin to make the Arcades project more explicitly political and Marxist in its analysis.

It contains sections (convolutes) on arcades, fashion, catacombs, iron constructions, exhibitions, advertising, interior design, Baudelaire, The streets of Paris, panoramas and dioramas, mirrors, painting, modes of lighting, railroads, Charles Fourier, Marx, photography, mannequins, social movements, Daumier's caricatures, literary history, the stock exchange, lithography, and the Paris Commune.

It influenced Marshal McLuhan's studies in media theory.

Structure

The project's structure is idiosyncratic. The convolutes correspond to letters of the alphabet; the individual sections of text— sometimes individual lines, sometimes multi-paragraph analyses —are ordered with square brackets, starting from [A1,1]. This numbering system comes from the pieces of folded paper that Benjamin wrote on, with [A1a,1] denoting the third page of his 'folio.'  Additionally, Benjamin included cross-references at the end of some sections. These were denoted by small boxes enclosing the word

The sections of text are at times Benjamin's own thoughts, and at other times consecutive quotations. These two types of textual sections are differentiated in their typography, with a large typeface for his writing and a smaller one for citations. This convention comes from the German version, but has no basis in Benjamin's manuscript. The convolutes also make extensive use of epigraphs from obscure publications.

Wiki

The Flaneur and Urban Phantasmagoria

Towards the City of Thresholds, Stavros Stavrides, 2010

As a figure, the laneur is in many ways the opposite of the private individual. The flaneur lives in public space. The streets, the boulevards and, above all, the Parisian arcades are his home7. In a way, the laneur seeks and produces at the same time marks of individuality not in his private shelter but out there, in metropolitan public space. He observes and often writes about city-life while being “jostled” by the crowd, inside “an immense reservoir of electric energy”, as Baudelaire describes metropolitan crowds (Benjamin 1999:443).

A true physiognomist, he seeks out what is distinctive, what is particular in the everyday panoramas of city life as they unfold in front of his eyes. He attributes value to small incidents, he explores leeting images, leeting gestures, ephemeral and chance encounters. The flaneur thus becomes a sublimated detective (ibid. 442).

His passion for minute details revealing small dramas or well hidden misdeeds makes him the perfect tracer. His hypersensitive sight interprets everything as a trace.

Whereas the private individual collects in his private shelter traces of a studiously fabricated individuality, the laneur searches for traces that will reveal individual trajectories in public space.

The individuality that he seeks out in the streets is the very same leeting individuality that dissatisies the private individual who feels that there are no individual traces in public space.

And whereas the private individual dedicates the phantasmagorias of interior to a ‘monumental’ individuality that resists the transitoriness of modern life, the laneur discovers in the depth of this transitoriness traces of an ephemeral, anonymous – if this is not a contradiction in terms – individuality. Immersed in public phantasmagorias he likes “to read from faces the profession, the ancestry, the character”(ibid. 429).

The private individual as a city-dweller crosses public space with his eyes “over-burdened with protective functions”(Benjamin1983:151). Eyes that have lost the ability to meaningfully communicate and return the gaze, are eyes that are only used to inform, protect and guide.

A protective anesthetization prevails in the behavior of the city dweller8. Being in the street means being able to conform to rules, to adapt to typical situations with minimum involvement.

On the opposite, the flaneur empathizes with the crowd (ibid. 54). He feels the energy, the sparks, the dangers, the passions. And this attitude is expressed through an aestheticizing of metropolitan life. The flaneur is a aesthete. He views everything as aesthetically meaningful.

That is why he presents himself in public through gestures of emphatic theatricality: taking a turtle for a walk, dressing sometimes as a dandy, appearing strange in the middle of the crowd, playing with imitative behavior, vanishing and surfacing again in many disguises.

Zygmunt Bauman is right to suggest that “the job of the flaneur is to rehearse the world as a theatre, life as a play” (Bauman1994:146). This attitude, as opposed to that of the private individual in the streets who, an aesthetized, cannot feel or recognise auratic elements in metropolitan landscape, is an attitude of auratic appreciation.

City life resumes in the eyes of the laneur a peculiar aura. Through a day-dreaming gaze that reintroduces a perspective between the flaneur and the leeting metropolitan images “a unique manifestation of distance” is perceived. What for others is protectively presented as ordinary, for him becomes strange. Everything assumes the status of a work of art, every object becomes able to return the gaze.

Such an aestheticization of metropolitan experience makes the laneur a possible co-producer of urban phantasmagoria. Adding through his gestures or writings to the spectacular character of a culture dedicated to “commodity worship”, he may eventually become a mediating igure in the re-enchantment of public life.

“The flaneur-as-idler is thus doubly phantasmagoric: in what he writes (the physiologies) and what he does (the pretence of aristocratic idleness and the reality of bourgeois commercial interest)” (Gilloch 1997:156).

The decline of aura connected to anesthetization and alienating shock absorption is positively reserved in a constructed metropolitan mythology: The modern “transitory gods”(Buck-Morss 1991:259) only participate in a fetishization of newness necessary for the cult of consumption. And newness “is the quintessence of that false consciousness whose indefatigable agent is fashion” (Benjamin1999a:11).

Public phantasmagorias are enhanced by the laneur, this peculiar intellectual aesthete, who makes his profession to pursue the novelties of modern life. Everything he observes is above all marked by a halo of newness, originality. This turns out to be a quest for individuality and distinctive particularity, a quest for fashionable novelties in every aspect of public life (dressing, behavior, the arts, city places, views, technological gadgets etc.). https://www.academia.edu/30170865/Loafing_Papers_on_Academic_Life_14

[chasing-chimeras]

🥐 🏜️ 🦋🪲 ☁️ 🍓

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

not a reference but the only thing i can think of rn is that terri joe exorcism video loll

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

i always love when people mention something specific they liked/noticed or tell me their own interpretations or predictions on things. any comment in general is gonna make my day, but the ones that you can tell are from someone who really gave thought to your writing will stick with me forever

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately 

theodore raeken (please clap)

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

"Boyd helps Liam up and slings the younger boy’s arm around his shoulders so that he can support his weight. Liam’s legs are still unsteady and the throbbing in his head grows more pronounced as he tries to move, but they manage to make it outside. High overhead, the sun seems ten times too bright and Liam’s foggy mind can barely recall the trek out here. He stumbles then, his arm slipping from around Boyd’s shoulders, but he’s caught before he can hit the ground."

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

a quote from charles taylor (the philosopher one, not the war crime one)

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

i don't really remember the exact moment or inspiration, but i think i just started writing. it wasn't until later on that i started talking to people/making friends

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 3.9

141 BC – Liu Che, posthumously known as Emperor Wu of Han, assumes the throne over the Han dynasty of China. 1009 – First known mention of Lithuania, in the annals of the monastery of Quedlinburg. 1226 – Khwarazmian sultan Jalal ad-Din conquers the Georgian capital of Tbilisi. 1230 – Bulgarian Tsar Ivan Asen II defeats Theodore of Epirus in the Battle of Klokotnitsa. 1500 – The fleet of Pedro Álvares Cabral leaves Lisbon for the Indies. The fleet will discover Brazil which lies within boundaries granted to Portugal in the Treaty of Tordesillas in 1494. 1701 – Safavid troops retreat from Basra, ending a three-year occupation. 1765 – After a campaign by the writer Voltaire, judges in Paris posthumously exonerate Jean Calas of murdering his son. Calas had been tortured and executed in 1762 on the charge, though his son may have actually died by suicide. 1776 – The Wealth of Nations by Scottish economist and philosopher Adam Smith is published. 1796 – Napoléon Bonaparte marries his first wife, Joséphine de Beauharnais. 1811 – Paraguayan forces defeat Manuel Belgrano at the Battle of Tacuarí. 1815 – Francis Ronalds describes the first battery-operated clock in the Philosophical Magazine. 1841 – The U.S. Supreme Court rules in the United States v. The Amistad case that captive Africans who had seized control of the ship carrying them had been taken into slavery illegally. 1842 – Giuseppe Verdi's third opera, Nabucco, receives its première performance in Milan; its success establishes Verdi as one of Italy's foremost opera composers. 1842 – The first documented discovery of gold in California occurs at Rancho San Francisco, six years before the California Gold Rush. 1847 – Mexican–American War: The first large-scale amphibious assault in U.S. history is launched in the Siege of Veracruz. 1862 – American Civil War: USS Monitor and CSS Virginia (rebuilt from the engines and lower hull of the USS Merrimack) fight to a draw in the Battle of Hampton Roads, the first battle between two ironclad warships. 1908 – Inter Milan was founded on Football Club Internazionale, following a schism from A.C. Milan. 1916 – Mexican Revolution: Pancho Villa leads nearly 500 Mexican raiders in an attack against the border town of Columbus, New Mexico. 1933 – Great Depression: President Franklin D. Roosevelt submits the Emergency Banking Act to Congress, the first of his New Deal policies. 1942 – World War II: Dutch East Indies unconditionally surrendered to the Japanese forces in Kalijati, Subang, West Java, and the Japanese completed their Dutch East Indies campaign. 1944 – World War II: Soviet Army planes attack Tallinn, Estonia. 1945 – World War II: A coup d'état by Japanese forces in French Indochina removes the French from power. 1945 – World War II: Allied forces carry out firebombing over Tokyo, destroying most of the capital and killing over 100,000 civilians. 1946 – Bolton Wanderers stadium disaster at Burnden Park, Bolton, England, kills 33 and injures hundreds more. 1954 – McCarthyism: CBS television broadcasts the See It Now episode, "A Report on Senator Joseph McCarthy", produced by Fred Friendly. 1956 – Soviet forces suppress mass demonstrations in the Georgian SSR, reacting to Nikita Khrushchev's de-Stalinization policy. 1957 – The 8.6 Mw  Andreanof Islands earthquake shakes the Aleutian Islands, causing over $5 million in damage from ground movement and a destructive tsunami. 1959 – The Barbie doll makes its debut at the American International Toy Fair in New York. 1960 – Dr. Belding Hibbard Scribner implants for the first time a shunt he invented into a patient, which allows the patient to receive hemodialysis on a regular basis. 1961 – Sputnik 9 successfully launches, carrying a dog and a human dummy, and demonstrating that the Soviet Union was ready to begin human spaceflight. 1967 – Trans World Airlines Flight 553 crashes in a field in Concord Township, Ohio following a mid-air collision with a Beechcraft Baron, killing 26 people. 1974 – The Mars 7 Flyby bus releases the descent module too early, missing Mars. 1976 – Forty-two people die in the Cavalese cable car disaster, the worst cable-car accident to date. 1977 – The Hanafi Siege: In a 39-hour standoff, armed Hanafi Muslims seize three Washington, D.C., buildings. 1978 – President Soeharto inaugurated Jagorawi Toll Road, the first toll highway in Indonesia, connecting Jakarta, Bogor and Ciawi, West Java. 1987 – Chrysler announces its acquisition of American Motors Corporation 1997 – Comet Hale–Bopp: Observers in China, Mongolia and eastern Siberia are treated to a rare double feature as an eclipse permits Hale-Bopp to be seen during the day. As the comet made its closest approach to Earth on March 26, all 39 active members of the Heaven's Gate cult committed ritual mass suicide over a period of three days, in the belief that their spirits would be teleported into an alien spacecraft flying inside the comet's tail. 1997 – The Notorious B.I.G. is murdered in Los Angeles after attending the Soul Train Music Awards. He is gunned down leaving an after party at the Petersen Automotive Museum. His murder remains unsolved. 2011 – Space Shuttle Discovery makes its final landing after 39 flights. 2012 – A truce between the Salvadoran government and gangs in the country goes into effect when 30 gang leaders are transferred to lower security prisons.

[hassibah]

A couple of years ago, Breitz, whose art deals with issues of race and identity, and Michael Rothberg, who holds a Holocaust studies chair at the University of California, Los Angeles, tried to organize a symposium on German Holocaust memory, called “We Need to Talk.” After months of preparations, they had their state funding pulled, likely because the program included a panel connecting Auschwitz and the genocide of the Herero and the Nama people carried out between 1904 and 1908 by German colonizers in what is now Namibia. “Some of the techniques of the Shoah were developed then,” Breitz said. “But you are not allowed to speak about German colonialism and the Shoah in the same breath because it is a ‘levelling.’ ”

The insistence on the singularity of the Holocaust and the centrality of Germany’s commitment to reckoning with it are two sides of the same coin: they position the Holocaust as an event that Germans must always remember and mention but don’t have to fear repeating, because it is unlike anything else that’s ever happened or will happen. The German historian Stefanie Schüler-Springorum, who heads the Centre for Research on Antisemitism, in Berlin, has argued that unified Germany turned the reckoning with the Holocaust into its national idea, and as a result “any attempt to advance our understanding of the historical event itself, through comparisons with other German crimes or other genocides, can [be] and is being perceived as an attack on the very foundation of this new nation-state.” Perhaps that’s the meaning of “Never again is now.”

Some of the great Jewish thinkers who survived the Holocaust spent the rest of their lives trying to tell the world that the horror, while uniquely deadly, should not be seen as an aberration. That the Holocaust happened meant that it was possible—and remains possible. The sociologist and philosopher Zygmunt Bauman argued that the massive, systematic, and efficient nature of the Holocaust was a function of modernity—that, although it was by no means predetermined, it fell in line with other inventions of the twentieth century. Theodor Adorno studied what makes people inclined to follow authoritarian leaders and sought a moral principle that would prevent another Auschwitz.

In 1948, Hannah Arendt wrote an open letter that began, “Among the most disturbing political phenomena of our times is the emergence in the newly created state of Israel of the ‘Freedom Party’ (Tnuat Haherut), a political party closely akin in its organization, methods, political philosophy, and social appeal to the Nazi and Fascist parties.” Just three years after the Holocaust, Arendt was comparing a Jewish Israeli party to the Nazi Party, an act that today would be a clear violation of the I.H.R.A.’s definition of antisemitism. Arendt based her comparison on an attack carried out in part by the Irgun, a paramilitary predecessor of the Freedom Party, on the Arab village of Deir Yassin, which had not been involved in the war and was not a military objective. The attackers “killed most of its inhabitants—240 men, women, and children—and kept a few of them alive to parade as captives through the streets of Jerusalem.”

[pazodetrasalba]

L' inutile beauté

Dear Caroline:

When I was younger, I avidly read and quoted from the Frankfurt School philosophers. I was (and in a way, still am) especially fond of Walter Benjamin; Theodor Adorno was more of a mixed back: I shared his aesthetic enthusiasm for Modernist literature, art and music, but got easily tired at his relentless pessimism and combinations of trite feeling with deep reflections. Case in point is the text L' inutile beauté, from the Minima Moralia, which waxes lyrically in how beauty in women brings along in its trail the curse of permanent unhappiness at the failure of the utopian and boundless dream that their beauty entailed. Personally, I shed few tears for such tragedies, as pretty privilege, whatever the gender, is a stable fountainhead of annoyance to me, even if it is no more than another layer of the inequalities and unfairness an uncaring and amoral universe tends to pile upon our weighted shoulders. As I think I have mentioned in some previous post, it is a chain I would gladly break completely - it would be a liberation to control your brain's irrationalist allocations of desire in both time and choice.

Also, when I was younger, I often wondered if, given the Character Sheet of My Life, I would have been willing to some some points from INT and into APP and CHAR. My older self is less tempted into these reflections, both because of their pointlessness and because I have become very attached to my mind, and would be unwilling to engage in any Soul Magic that might affect it.

Each of us has his own hobbyhorses and pet peeves; for me, it is hard to conceive anything more painful and cruel, beyond obvious and long-lasting physical torture, than being mocked and ridiculed for my looks. And this means that whenever I see people engaging in these practices, my instinctual desire would be to bash the perpetrators really hard with a big stick. And this had a non-trivial contribution to the sympathy I started feeling for you about a year ago, after learning about the FTX-Alameda debacle. The gutter-voices had died down quite a bit, but made a nasty comeback of late with your temporary return to the limelight.

What really pains me though is that I suspect you are like me in this issue, and how much these jeers have the potential to hurt you and make you suffer. So for the record, I'd like to spit in the face of the rabble, and declare that I find you beautiful, and not in a Platonic or patronizing use of the word, but rather in the literal one of experiencing a warmth of joy and skipping a heartbeat whenever I can look at you -or rather, when I see pictures of you, given that I've never actually seen you and almost certainly never will in my life. So all those idiots can go and f*** themselves.

Also, for the record, I feel that beauty is by far the least valuable and interesting of your aspects, when compared with your intelligence, your funniness and your moral core. And yet your loveliness keeps on shining in their midst.

Quote:

I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains.

Anne Frank

[talesofadragon]

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥

Summary: Right choices have never been Draco’s forte. Years after his reputation has taken a plunge and his guilt has claimed control of his thoughts, he’s offered a second chance at redemption from Hogwarts University’s Principal, Minerva McGonagall. 

Reluctant to step back into the origins of his despair, Draco begins to question his fate and the cruel jokes it's been playing on him until he meets a stranger that offers him a different perspective. A stranger that may just force him to repeat the past he was adamant to run away from. 

Warnings: College AU | Fluff | Angst | Slow Burn | Age Gap

Pairing: Professor!Draco x Student!Reader

Word Count: 4K

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

𝐍𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. Whether it was between love and hate, truth and lies, or right and wrong, somehow, one always finds themselves teetering on the edge of the unknown before choosing the path to follow.

Every time Draco would close his eyes, he’d find tales of regret and guilt carved roughly behind his eyelids— a great retelling of the past and the volatility of his choices that have tampered with the translucent veil of his existence. 

Life was cruel. That had always been the conclusion he came to whenever he aimlessly wandered the streets of Scotland as he retreated into his self-formed cocoon. Perhaps it was his insecurities or the queasiness inside of him, but he always seemed to believe that people all around him judged his every move. Their eyes bore into him, attempting to see who between his guilt and their hatred would cause him to run away faster. 

A bench at Springfield Meadows served as his trusted nest, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he plopped down. The familiarity of the dark wood beneath his long fingers sparked a sense of peace and serenity as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and fisted hands above his mouth, deep into thought. 

“Thinking about it any further will not change much, you know?” Draco heard from behind him. He scoffed as the man stepped forward, proceeding to take a seat next to him. 

Silver eyes roamed the expanse of the park, gliding over the white daisies that were beginning to bloom. “The world is nothing short of possibilities, and one thought can change the course of our paths forever,” he replied, craning his head as he faced his friend. 

The tall brunette rolled his eyes. He leaned back against the bench with one arm casually draped against the wood behind Draco’s shoulders. “To be or not to be, that is the question.” He raised his free hand in the air, feigning melancholy. “Always the Shakespeare, Malfoy. Eloquent, creative, and ever brooding.”

Draco scoffed, tapping his fingers against his knees. “The world may evolve, but I’ll always be philosophical, and you’ll always remain–”

“Charming?” 

“More of a nuisance, to tell you the truth.”

The man hit his friend across his chest, eliciting a groan from the platinum blond. Theodore, the tall “nuisance” as Draco referred to him, raised his left foot, resting his calf on his right knee. He remained silent, watching the birds that soared above them. His hazel eyes gazed at his best friend for a moment, noticing him succumb to his deafening fears once more. 

Draco’s attention was elsewhere and nowhere all at once, his knee rising and falling in anticipation of the upcoming decision he was going to have to make. His mind filled with the words he had read this morning–the promise of a chance to start anew. 

“Was it you?” he pondered aloud, the back of his head now resting against the wood, silver orbs looking away. “ Where you the one who suggested my name?”

Theodore considered his answer for a moment. “At the risk of sounding like a lousy friend, I didn’t even think about mentioning you, mate.”

Draco huffed out a half-laugh, the ghost of the past paying him an unwanted visit. He hated closing his eyes because he never found the escape he craved to seek refuge in. He’d instead find himself surrounded with traces of a reality so discouraging and shameful, it entangled itself within his worst nightmares. “Then why the hell are they asking me to come back?” After everything.

“Hogwarts has been struggling to find a competent literature professor since you left–”

“Since I was forced to,” Draco corrects bitterly, the bright silver in his eyes dimming, a wounded shade of grey taking the reins.

Theodore nodded absentmindedly, seeking the right words. “Right, well. McGonagall has now been appointed as the university’s president. And she specifically requested for you to return.”

“Hogwarts,” Draco repeated. The word fell from his lips with a bitter taste in its wake. “The most prized institution in Scotland, in Britain, struggling to hire a decent professor? That’s quite hard to believe.”

“I never said the instructors weren’t decent. They just lack your competence, Draco.” 

The man let out a deep exhale, his palms digging into his eyes and rubbing away the irritation. Not to sound narcissistic, even though Draco Malfoy is just that sometimes, but there could never be someone that garnered as many skills as he did in that domain. 

He knew every cadence of literature. He studied its facades and its realities so vehemently, there was no message that could escape his thirsty eyes, no matter how well hidden it was between the lines. Perhaps this was a result of the sanctuary he found within the pages of every book he has ever read in his times of loneliness. Or maybe, it was the ostentatious life he had lived as the only son of billionaire philanthropists Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. 

Whatever misfortune had led him to acquire such knowledge of the craft was the only tribulation he welcomed so openly.

“I can’t go back.” He shook his head. “Not after everything.”

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?” Theodore didn’t wait for an answer before he completed the rest of the monologue that waiting to be set free. “Listen, mate. I know the circumstances weren’t in your favor, and you’re dreading having to relive the past. But you need this. You need to give yourself another chance.” 

Draco closed his eyes and groaned. A thousand scenarios ran in his head laced with fear and doubt, all telling him to run the other way. But Theodore’s words were also there. You need this. Need. Since when was ever Draco granted what he needed in life? 

A hand on his shoulder awoke him from his reverie, albeit reluctantly. He peered his eyes away from the monochromatic thoughts he was having, catching Theodore’s hazel orbs. Think about it, the brunette tried to say without so much as moving his lips. And with that, he was on his way. 

Draco’s mind was suddenly engulfed by the silence. Again, the man sighed, letting his head fall back against the wooden bench. He didn’t know what was better. The overcrowded streets of doubt and despair that his mind fabricated or the noiseless alleys of solitude he sometimes wandered to.  

His fingers unconsciously drummed against the wood–an anchor that was keeping him tethered to reality, fearing he might find himself far too lost. 

Suddenly, his forehead creased, and the traffic in his head came to a standstill. Everything became eerily quiet. All those malicious possibilities halted, hanging in the air. His mind stung, an unwelcome sensation probing at the back of his head. He looked around, searching his consciousness, only to find a red light blaring soundlessly, yet ever so brightly, as if it was trying to warn him about something. 

Draco opened his silver eyes to the real world, his mind still reeling from the effect of his raging thoughts. He looked around with furrowed brows, trying to decipher what might’ve caused his duress. And then the red lights blared once more as soon as he locked eyes with a pair of curious Y/E/C eyes. 

His brow unconsciously arched at the sight of the girl that stood a few mere feet away from him. Clad in a long-sleeved dress, she gnawed at her lower lip, her cheeks heating up as soon as she met Draco’s questioning gaze. 

Her eyes fell back down to her lap where her open notebook lay, her pencil gliding over the pages. But Draco paid close attention to the young woman, noting the nonexistent flick in her wrist. While her eyes were cast down, they didn’t seem to be moving—more so trying to find their footing. Instead, they were on the edge of the paper, awaiting the right moment. 

Draco’s suspicions were proven true when those same curious Y/E/C eyes met his. Bashful and reluctant, they retreated back to their checkpoint as soon as they were caught. 

10 seconds, Draco took note, studying the pattern the girl followed. This time he pretended to look away when his silver eyes were strategically positioned in a way that allowed him to catch a glimpse of the girl. 

The same thing happened, albeit this time it took 10 seconds more before the girl’s eyes fled once again. 

It continued twice more before Draco decided to do something about it. This time, when the girl snuck a peek, her brows scrunched at the empty bench that faced her. A small, imperceptible sound came out of her lips, almost similar to a sigh. She tilted her head, searching side to side before she yelped in surprise, her hands dropping her notebook, and immediately flying to her mouth. 

“You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes,” Draco remarks impassively, his hand in his pockets. “Care to explain why.” 

The girl, who looked no more than twenty-five, fumbled with her hands. She gazed at Draco, her lashes fluttering in trepidation before she moved to pick up the leather notebook. “I wasn’t… I didn’t. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel uncomfortable.” 

“And what was your intention, young lady?” he asked, his brow raised in anticipation. 

The girl’s cheeks heated once more at the feeling of being reprimanded like a child, her hands automatically moving to loosen the scarf wrapped around her neck. 

“I just… you looked pensive,” she articulated, feeling small against Draco’s intense gaze. Her nails picked at the leather of her notebook, her words almost getting lost in her throat. “Are you okay?” 

If Draco’s eyes had been wide before, then they were as wide as saucers now. He studied the girl, an incredulous look overcoming his features. Draco scoffed, loudly at that, turning his head the other way. His hand settled on the wood near her head, causing a certain agitation and jitteriness in the girl at the sight of his long and calloused fingers. 

“Why should I answer that?” 

“Pardon me, sir. I truly didn’t mean to pry.” She paused, licking her lips and trying to search for the right words to say while attempting to mask her intimidation. “You just seemed to be worried. If… if you’d like to talk about your worries, I would gladly listen.” 

“Hasn’t your mother ever taught you not to talk to strangers? Why in the name of God would I want to talk to you about my problems? I don’t even know you!” 

“Exactly,” she retorted, unfazed by his hostility. A gust of wind brushed her bangs, causing them to almost cover her eyes. “I’m a stranger. I don’t know you or your back story, so I can’t exactly judge. I can only listen, which is sometimes all that someone needs.” 

Draco narrowed his eyes, trying to read the girl in front of him. Despite the blatant glare he was giving her, he received nothing but a kind and gentle smile in return.

He let out a half-laugh half-scoff while repeating the girl’s words in his head, his feet immediately changed course, the sound of fallen leaves wailing beneath the soles of his shoes. 

Though his back was turned, his ear picked up on the sound of the girl shifting in her seat. He could hear her pen tapping against the notebook, debating whether or not it was worth going back to doing what she was doing before this conversation even started. 

Just as he heard her open her notebook and ruffle through the pages, he surprised even himself at the sound of his own voice. “What do you think about second chances?” 

“What?” she asked, surprised. Draco turned around to face her, the glare he gave her made her shuffle around. “Um, well… I think… I believe that we all deserve a second chance. Not just to rectify our first mistake but to prove to ourselves that we can do better. That we are better.”

“Interesting way of phrasing it,” Draco said. He placed his hands in the pocket of his trousers, fallen leaves crunching beneath his feet as he strolled back to the bench. 

The girl watched him with a sheepish smile, scooting over to allow him some space to sit. He didn’t. 

“We’re often too hard on ourselves, and second chances are a way to help us find a calming voice louder than the sound of our doubts and insecurities,” she declared. This time her voice was steadier and less meek.

“What if we’ve messed up too badly to rectify our errors?” 

The girl craned her head and pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing on the grass as she contemplated the question. “Then, maybe this second chance is an opportunity to make sense of those errors.”

“You’re too much of an idealist, kid,” Draco scoffed. He was surprised to see the young woman unfazed. 

“Sometimes, reality is too overcrowded with negative emotions. Idealism helps you find glimpses of the truth buried beneath the rubble of self-doubt,” she spoke slowly, a small smile decorating her lips.

“And a philosopher, too,” Draco scoffed. He had heard all he needed to know but hesitated to leave, a single question lingering in his mind. He glanced down at the girl. She stared at him with large doe eyes, her fingers nipping at the leather of her notebook. He looked away then down to his shoes, swallowing the lump in his throat. “What if the truth is that there's no place for you anymore? What’s the use of a second chance then?” 

Y/E/C orbs clashed with a stormy silver, somehow, their warmth and gentleness calmed the storm. 

“Sometimes, we outgrow the places we've once deeply planted our roots in. After that, it's no matter of fitting in but standing out." Draco’s brows furrowed as he hung on to every word coming out of her lips. “And your second chance becomes an opportunity to find the strengths in what was once your weaknesses, the rights in your wrongs, and the reality in your fears."

Draco remained momentarily silent. His fingers began to clench and unclench as he mulled the words over. Could this perhaps be the reason why he was offered a second chance? Not to rectify his errors but to make sense of them? To look at belonging through a more ideal lens. 

He spent so much time thinking about it that he didn’t notice the girl leaving him alone with his thoughts. And when he turned to face her, mouth wide open and mind racing with more questions, he was disappointed to find the bench she sat on empty with no trace of her around. As if she was never there.

When Draco was a child, he struggled to sit still. He remembered always being on the edge of his seat, waiting for a cue that would allow him to dash out of the living area and onto Malfoy Mansion’s open garden. 

Maybe that was because he hated the company his parents brought over, or maybe it was an act of rebellion for being molded into everything a toddler shouldn’t have been—stripped from the childhood he deserved. 

And somehow, thirty or so years later, he found himself in the same position. But this time, instead of fiddling with his fingers, he was fiddling with the fabric of his green tie. And while he left the Malfoy Mansion behind him years ago, it was the comfort of his apartment in Haven Lane that beckoned him over. 

“Mr. Malfoy,” the assistant told him, causing him to abandon his escape plan. He hummed in acknowledgment, passively leaning back against his chair. “President McGonagall is ready to see you.” 

To say he was nervous was an understatement. It had been about three years since he last saw Minerva McGonagall. Three years since he last held a coursebook, let alone spoke to someone about academics on any level. 

He straightened up, squaring his shoulders, getting ready to meet the president. As he stepped through the contemporary wooden door, he realized that not much had changed. Not the light brown and minimalistic furniture, not the beige-colored walls, and certainly not Minerva McGonagall with her thin-framed glasses and welcoming demeanor. 

“Draco, please take a seat. It’s so lovely to see you.” 

Draco nodded In acknowledgment, placing his briefcase down and unbuckling the button of his black blazer. “Thank you, Minerva,” he said as if no time had passed. “How are you doing?” 

“Very well, even better now that you’re here.” She smiled kindly, extending the cup of tea and water she had already set aside for him. McGonagall cleared her throat, her hands on the table, fingers intertwined together. “Draco, as you well know, your extensive acumen in the subject matter along with your experience make you one of the most eminent literature professors Hogwarts has ever seen. The board and I are aware of what happened during your past tenure; however, we are willing once more to give you a chance.” 

Draco gulped down the water, his fingers curling around the glass. He tapped his index finger against the rim, his eyes trained on the principal. “Surely there are other competent professors. So why bother to go through all that trouble and reach out to me?” 

McGonagall adjusted her thin glasses, her lips forming a small smile. “Multiple reasons, some you may believe while others not so much. If you want an answer that will appease your doubts, I’d say the principal reason would be our new School of Creative Writing.” 

Draco tilted his head, his brow scrunching in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“A year ago, we opened a new school, offering an array of writing degrees to undergraduates and graduates alike. We’ve been trying to receive accreditation from the Dumbledore Association of Creative Thought, but many of our employed professors have been struggling with the coursework and the basic accreditation requirements. We decided to look for someone who’s resourceful, unconventional, and agile in their way of thinking. We found no one better suited for this role than you.”

“I truly appreciate your words, Minerva. But are you sure there’s no one else?” 

“Perhaps there is,” McGonagall answered, reaching for her tea. “But none are quite as deserving as you.” 

The day had started fairly well. It didn’t take Draco too long before he slipped back into “professor mode.” He quite missed it actually—the commanding presence he held in the classroom, the eager eyes and ears that lingered on every word that slipped from his lips, and the passion he shared with his students. 

He realized later throughout the day, and much to his advantage, that many of his previous colleagues no longer worked at Hogwarts University. Sure, there were some old faces that seemed shocked to find him sauntering carelessly in the hallways, but there were others that were more curious than anything else. 

He didn’t dwell too much on the thought, preferring to focus on the second chance life had offered him. He wanted to do it right this time–correct all the previous wrongs. Not just for the sake of his reputation but for his own piece of mind as well. 

At precisely two in the afternoon, Draco walked into one of the classrooms on the middle floor of the building. Pushing the golden doors, he strolled through the large beige-colored auditorium where a handful of students sat in their brown chairs. Given the rigorous nature of the Creative Writing program, Draco discovered that no more than 15 students were accepted every year, split between his classes and Theodore’s. 

The man placed his books on the table, strolling around it before he leaned against the oak. “How many of you are waiting to get the syllabus for this course before running to catch up over coffee with your friends?” Draco questioned, a small smirk playing across his lips. “It’s okay. I won’t judge.” 

He was met with some lighthearted giggles as the seven students, unevenly scattered, adjusted themselves in their seats. Draco placed his hands in his pockets, crossing his legs together. “My name is Draco Malfoy, and I will be your new professor for the length of this course. Some of you may have heard of me while others not so much, and I don’t know whether either is a good thing. To say the least, I’m not your typical course instructor. I don’t follow the rules, because I believe that literature and the creative arts are not meant to be tamed. There will be no syllabus for this course as the topics we’ll cover will depend on you more than on me. I’m here to help turn your passion into something you are proud to share with the world. Some things are not going to make much sense, but as you progress, you’ll begin to understand my methods and their true value.

“If this is not something that you feel comfortable exploring, then you still have time to switch classes and seek Professor Nott’s guidance. However, if you choose to take part in my classes, then I guarantee that you will not only be investigating the depths of writing but also the inner workings of your mind. For those of you who’d like to step out, please feel free to do so now.” A pregnant pause settled as everyone looked at one another, but no one made a move to exit. “Lovely, but please do remember that it’s not too late to change your mind. Now, how about we start with a round of light introductions to get better acquainted with each other? You can go first, Miss…?

“Granger, sir,” the young woman at the forefront answered. She flipped her brown hair back, her brown pools meeting Draco’s. “I’m Hermione Granger, a second-year creative writing major. I’ve been a student at Hogwarts for five years now, having already obtained a bachelor’s in English literature and a minor in communications.”

“Impressive, Miss Granger. And what is it you’re excited to learn in this course?”

“How real-life experiences are translated on paper, and more particularly, portrayed across various mediums of communication.”

“Interesting, Miss Granger. What about you, Miss…?”

“Lovegood,” the blonde replied. 

One by one, each student started introducing themselves. Some talked about their passions, others their backgrounds and Draco quickly noticed that a few of the students present have picked his course as an elective. Nonetheless, he listened to them as they expressed their interest in learning more about writing and kindly answered their queries. 

At last, there was only one person left—a girl who was writing away in her notebook. Draco curiously studied her hunched frame as her pen danced across the paper, even though he couldn’t for the life of him understand what she was writing about. 

“That leaves only you, Miss…?” His voice trailed off as Draco waited to see whether the girl was paying enough attention or not. She placed her pen gently on the notebook and raised her head, adjusting the black frames on her nose. 

“Y/L/N, sir,” she replied. The shy voice and the vibrance of her eyes caused Draco’s shoulders to tense as he stood upright upon hearing her speak. “Y/N Y/L/N. First-year creative writing major. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy,” she smiled kindly at the man. 

Draco gulped, his hand gripping the wooden desk. His stomach lurched, and his head pounded. Sometime, after a beat of silence, he realized that there was something about this girl. It was no coincidence that he met her twice now and would ultimately have to see her for quite more. But something told him that fate was playing a dangerous game, one that Draco was ultimately going to lose. All because of a girl with a radiating smile that was too real to be a farce. 

Witchlings, guess who's back?

So excited for this series and the upcoming projects I've planned! What do you think so far?

Until the next one 🪄🤍

[ridingthetiger2022]

My English language history

Write your own ‘English language history’ in which you indicate what you have done in/for/with English.

My history with the English language is a rather long one. It is hard to point out where exactly it all began. For the simplicity of this article, I shall take my first year in secondary school. It was in this year that I was provided with a laptop of my own and started interacting with various forms of English media, among which range games, videos, movies etc. This went on for quite some time and my interest in the English language grew ever so slightly to a point in which I would come to view it as superior to my own native language.

During my fourth year of secondary school, I went on a trip to London. It was during this time that I found out how much further ahead of my fellow classmates I was in regards to the English language. I could speak it fluently, with an accent even. It all just came very natural to me.

It was also around this time that, thanks to the internet, I came into contact with various peoples from other countries. This experience further enhanced my use of the English language to a point where I speak it on a daily basis, as I wish to stay in touch with them of course.

I would like to talk a bit more about the earlier mentioned “various forms of English media”. With this I am mostly referring to digital media, such as movies, documentaries and podcasts, yet my experience is not limited to those forms alone. Instead, I dove into some English literature. I remember the first English book I bought for myself very well. It was a fictional novel from the fantasy genre. Quite a hard pill to swallow, for it was about a thousand pages big. Yet I still prevailed and finished the book and still have it resting on my shelf to this day.

More recently, I have engulfed myself into some more complex literature which I would categorize as either “classical” or “political”. I shall provide a short summary of some the books I’ve read in the past two years:

Storm of Steel: A true post-WW1 classic, the autobiography of German soldier Ernst Jünger offers a horrifically detailed look into life in the trenches.

1984: The classic dystopian novel written by George Orwell. A short but entertaining read.

Industrial Society and its Future: The manifesto of American serial killer Theodore “Ted” Kaczynski. A gateway into the mind of a tormented man with a terribly unique perspective on the world.

A short history of Europe: Written by Simon Jenkins, the book follows up on his title. It provides a quick overview of European political and military history. I read this book as part of the minor “European Cultures”.  

Marcus Aurelius Meditations: The book of the philosopher Emperor. This book provides the reader with some wisdoms of old that continue to influence philosophical discourse to this day.

I have recently developed a bit of an obsession with books. I like to fill my shelf with them, especially more controversial ones. One may call this a hobby of mine.  

[micky296]

Theodor Adorno & Social Capital Theory

Have you ever desired something and the minute you get it you do not feel as satisfied or happy as you thought you would? These feelings can be connected to the social capital theory and the theories of Theodor Adorno. It is evident that Adorno’s claims from the 1930s continue to play an important role within society today. Adorno was heavily interested in the way capitalism has consumed society and that human beings have lost their initial purpose. The social capital theory reinforces the false narrative within a capitalist mindset. 

There is a noticeable overlap that is present between Adorno’s philosophical claims about how capitalism has affected us as a society and the individual themselves. That can be directly tied back into the social capital theory. The social capital theory seeks to describe the basis of capitalism whereas Adorno’s claims seek to highlight the problems that arise whilst living and existing within a capitalistic society. Social capital theory claims that in order for us to function as individuals within a capitalistic society, we must first acquire networks with people or build up our resources. A capitalistic society says that we must be consistently working hard in order to build the necessary capital (money) in order to give us access to the resources needed to fit into society. Adorno confirms this idea of that non-stop grind for more and more in any way possible as capitalism does not sell us things that we absolutely need. We forget about the value that lies within ourselves and our personal relationships. People are becoming trapped in this cyclical trap of working and spending, which shows the daily emphasis of working and achieving more and more capital. 

To help understand important issues in the contemporary social world, social media can be used as an example related to social capital theory. The social capital theory has three separate concepts, and we can recognize social media through our nature of relationships. This theory allows us to build social networks through reviews and are able to see individuals without meeting them in real life. Now, through the use of social media, we are able to all be connected and interconnected through the internet one way or another. It is evident that capitalist society has taken over various areas of the real social world we see today, in the video he mentioned how pleasure time is one of the ways in which capitalist culture has taken over. The false expectations and targeted advertising in capitalist practice are constantly pushed through social media. People are spending more time on social media micromanaging other lives than using that time as Adorno talked about educating ourselves and growing our minds. 

Ultimately, the concepts of Adorno’s theories, and it’s correlation to the social capital theory can bring insight to understanding the how society impacts individuals. These theories help explain the alienation of the production of means, which therefore makes the things that people desire, a lot less rewarding when it is obtained. Adorno’s theories intersect with the social capital theory, by drawing attention to the issues of the mindset of capitalism which are essential to understanding the sociological world. In the end, these two theories support each other by fortifying each other’s arguments with their similar goal of understanding how society’s networking functions.