#ones array example

[makeshiftloops]

W.D Gaster… (said in the same way that one guy said “Epcot ball”)

[grapehyasynth]

I call my grandma every few days to check in, because she and my grandfather seem lonely and it feels like a small thing I can do to help, but the superficiality and disconnect hurts me every time. Tonight I mentioned having a lot to do for this art festival I help organize, and she said it was okay if a lot fell on me because I don't have a husband and kids, and I just felt so crushed - that that's the only way she can imagine a full and busy life, that she has never cared about what else is going on in my life, that she's quick to justify things rather than hearing me out, that she'll always see that as a lack in my life rather than believing when I say I find fulfillment elsewhere

[relto]

i fucking give up on vba. use same method as before, doesnt work for some reason. does excel tell you what the error is? of course not it just stops program execution with zero warning.

[xenineshroom]

It is so frustrating to know what it's like to pass as a cis man in a male-dominated field, and see all these experiences of highly privileged trans men in these same fields propped up as the standard.

There is this odd phenomenon where being a transmasculinized individual one is faced with an array of exceptional examples of those like us, while being told these examples actually represent all of us. These examples are supposed to be saying something important about all of us.

Every narrative I was fed as a baby trans, was of exceptional trans men who could only talk about how much better people treated them. Being cis passing and indistinguishable from a cis man was the standard back then in 2016 when I originally came out, and remains as such today. It is disheartening to see that people have no issue with enforcing that expectation, even if "gender liberation" is supposedly important to them.

So to be a boyfaliure, a faggot, someone who faces open discrimination and gender questioning even when I can pass as being plausibly cis, someone who is talked over even when I am seen to be a man with expertise in my field... suddenly Devon Price is the standard I've simply failed to live up to. Even worse for non-white trans men who're made to feel they failed to live up to this white ideal of transmasculinity. When normative and gender conforming trans men write articles about their improved lives, better wages, endless opportunities, they receive an outpouring of support from those who wish to stroke a cisnormative image of transgender existence.

The stories from people like me, they don't feel good to read, they don't let the reader sit back and pat themselves on the back for seeing trans men as "real men" without any challenge to their preconceived notions of manhood (in this case, being a "real man" is being privileged, cis passing, and often stealth with a successful career).

For a reader who feels too challenged, these things are easy to dismiss. Perhaps the transmasc in question is simply "early in transition." If we aren't, then maybe he's just not trying hard enough. Even if "trying hard enough" is a transmedicalist and cisnormative standard which is unfair to apply to trans people, the speaker is simply lying. If they're not they're an outlier- and if they're not, then they are still somehow unimportant. It has to be okay to write transmasculine oppression off as a phase, (or as not having ever existed at all) otherwise it would mean accepting that manhood can't save one from discrimination. It would mean that trans gender doesn't map onto cis gender cleanly and neatly, that old models cannot be recycled to include all of us.

It is very easy to accept that a transmasculine transition ends in privilege and opportunity, after all, the only reason a woman would ever want to be a man is to gain privilege... right? The only trustworthy trans men, well they will tell you stories of their vast wealth of privilege after all.

By these mechanisms, erasure by exceptionalism is reinforced.

[fairuzfan]

I do want to say re:food appropriation, for Palestinians it is a very very very sensitive issue. I don't know a single Palestinian who doesn't react vehemently to calling food "Israeli." One, because you have to recognize that this is within a larger pattern of completely erasing Palestinian identity, and two, because food is an essential core part of culture, where historical, familial instruction should be acknowledged.

I find it incredibly.... insulting to say "well food can be exchanged between cultures and people, so what's the big idea?" and neglect the fact that even within the Levant, there is a diverse array of cooking styles. To call certain dishes "Israeli" especially within the context of how the state of Israel was established, plays into the erasure of Palestinians.

It's often necessary to attribute the food we eat to specific cultures. For example, I, a Palestinian, would never claim ownership over Macarona Bil-Bashamil, or Yalenji, because they're "Arab." That's just not how food culture works. Different cultures, different climates, different environments all contribute to the food we eat and the clothes we wear. Food in itself is political because of how heavily it is tied to a location in which things are grown and raised.

Food is what builds community. Women, young and old, pass this knowledge throughout generations. And ESPECIALLY between peasant families that grow and raise the very flora and fauna we rely on in our dishes. This is a professional sort of knowledge that we celebrate and consider incredibly important. To strip our very food of our identity is not only insulting, but negates the centuries worth of food culture we've established in favor of homogenization. So yes, it IS possible to appropriate food, especially when you do not acknowledge the centuries worth of knowledge shared.

[the-alexel-lucas]

My machine went down so instead of writing I designed the teleportation magic circle, however because it includes the god of travel’s sigil it’s not symmetrical and I feel that will piss people off. Oh well

[stephobrien]

Is your pro-Palestine activism hurting innocent people? Here's how to avoid that.

Note: If you prefer plain text, you can read the plain text version here.

Over the last few days, I’ve had conversations with several Jewish people who told me how hurt and scared they are right now.

To my great regret, some of that pain came from a poorly-thought-out post of mine, which – while not ill-intentioned – WAS hurtful.

And a lot of it came from cruelty they’d experienced at the hands of people who claim to be advocating for Palestine, but are using the very real plight of innocent Palestinians to harm equally innocent Jewish people.

Y’all, we need to do better. (Yes, “we” definitely includes me; this is in no small part a “learn from my fail” post, and also a “making amends” post. Some of these are mistakes I’ve made in the past.)

So if you’re an advocate for Palestine who wants to make sure that your defense of one group of vulnerable people doesn’t harm another, here are some important things to do or keep in mind:

Ask yourself if you’re applying a standard to one group that you aren’t applying to another.

Would you want all white Americans or Canadians to be expelled from America or Canada?

Do you want all Jewish people to be expelled from Israel, as opposed to finding a way to live alongside Palestinian Arabs in peace?

If the answer to those two questions is different, ask yourself WHY.

Do you want to be held responsible for the actions of your nation’s army or government? No? Then don’t hold innocent Jewish people, or Israelis in general (whether Jewish or otherwise), responsible for the actions of the Israeli army and government.

On that subject, be wary of condemning all Israeli people for the actions of the IDF. Large-scale tactical decisions are made by the top brass. Service is compulsory, and very few can reasonably get out of service.

Blaming all Israelis for the military’s actions is like blaming all Vietnam vets for the horrors in Vietnam. They’re not calling the shots. They aren’t Nazis running concentration camps. They are carrying out military operations that SHOULD be criticized.

And do not compare them or ANY JEWISH PERSON to Nazis in general. It is Jewish cultural trauma and not outsiders’ to use against them.

Don’t infuse legitimate criticism with antisemitism.

By all means, spread the word about the crimes committed by the Israeli army and government, and the complicity of their allies. Criticize the people responsible for committing and enabling atrocities.

But if you imply that they’re committing those crimes because they’re Jewish, or because Jewish people have special privileges, then you’re straying into antisemitic territory.

Criticize the crime, not the group. If you believe that collective punishment is wrong, don’t do it yourself.

And do your best to use words that apply directly to the situation, rather than the historical terms for situations with similar features. For example, use “segregation,” “oppression,” or “subjugation,” not “Holocaust” or “Jim Crow.” These other historical events are not the cultural property of Jews OR Palestinians, but also have their own nuances and struggles and historical contexts.

Also, blaming other world events on Jewish people or making Jewish people associated with them (for instance, some people falsely blame Jewish people for the African slave trade) is a key feature of how antisemitism functions.

Please, by all means, be specific and detailed in your critiques. But keep them focused on the current political actors – not other peoples’ or nations’ political or cultural histories and traumas.

Be prepared to accept criticism.

You probably already know that society is infused with a wide array of bigotries, and that people growing up in that environment tend to absorb those beliefs without even realizing it. Antisemitism is no exception.

What that means is, there’s a very real chance that you will screw up, and get called out on it, as I so recently did.

If that happens, please be willing to learn and adapt. If you can educate yourself about the suffering and needs of Palestinians, you can do the same for Jewish people.

Understand that the people you hurt aren’t obligated to baby you. Give them room to be angry.

After I made a post that inadvertently hurt people, some were nice about it, and others weren’t. Some outright insulted my morals and intelligence.

And I had to accept that I’d earned that from them.

I’d hurt them, and they weren’t obligated to be more careful with my feelings than I had been with theirs.

They weren’t obligated to forgive me, trust me, or stop being mad at me right away.

I’ll admit, there were moments when I got defensive. I shouldn’t have. And I encourage you to try not to, if you screw up and hurt people.

I know that’s hard, but it’s important. Getting defensive only tells people you care more about doubling down on your mistake than you do about healing the hurt it caused.

Instead, acknowledge that they have a right to be angry, apologize for the way you hurt them, and try to make amends, while understanding that they don’t owe you trust or forgiveness.

Be aware that some antisemites are using legitimate complaints to “Trojan horse” antisemitism into leftist spaces.

This is a really easy stumbling block to trip over, because most people probably don’t look at every post a creator makes before sharing the one they’re looking at right now.

I recently shared a video that called out some of the Likud and IDF’s atrocities and hypocrisy, and that also noted that many Jewish people are wonderful members of their communities.

I was later informed that, while that video in particular seemed reasonable, the creator behind it is frequently antisemitic.

I deleted the post, and blocked the creator. I encourage you to do the same if it’s brought to your attention that you’ve been ‘Trojan horse’d.

EDIT: Important note about antisemitism in leftist spaces:

While it's true that some blatant antisemites are using seemingly reasonable posts to get their foot in the door of leftist spaces, it's also true that a lot of antisemitism already exists inside those spaces.

This antisemitism is often dressed up in progressive-sounding language, but nonetheless singles Jewish people and places out in ways that aren't applied equally to other groups, or that label Jewish people in ways that portray them as acceptable targets.

If you want to see some specific examples, so you can have a better idea of what to keep an eye out for, I suggest reading this excellent reblog of this post.

Fact-check your doubts about antisemitism.

Depending on which parts of the internet you look at, you’ve probably seen people accused of antisemitism because they complained about the Likud and/or IDF’s actions. So you might be primed to be wary, or feel unsure of how to tell what counts as real antisemitism.

But that doesn’t mean antisemitism isn’t a very real, widespread, and harmful problem. And it doesn’t mean many or even most Jewish people are lying to you or being overly sensitive.

So if someone says something is antisemitic, and you aren’t sure, I encourage you to:

A. Look up the action or thing in question, including its history. Is there an antisemitic history or connotation you aren’t aware of? For best results, include “antisemitic” in your search query, in quotes.

B. Understand that some things, while not inherently antisemitic, have been used by antisemites often enough that Jewish people are understandably wary of them. Schrodinger’s antisemitism, if you will.

C. Ask Jewish people WHO HAVE OFFERED TO HELP EDUCATE YOU. Emphasis on WHO HAVE OFFERED. Random Jewish people aren’t obligated to give you their time and emotional energy, or to educate you – especially on subjects that are scary or painful for them.

@edenfenixblogs has kindly offered her inbox to those who are genuinely trying to learn and do better, and I’ve found her to be very kind, patient, reasonable, and fair-minded.

Understand that this is URGENTLY NEEDED.

In one of my conversations with a Jewish person who’d called me out, they said this was the most productive conversation they’d had with a person with a Palestinian flag in their profile.

THIS IS NOT OKAY.

I didn’t do anything special. All I did was listen, apologize for my mistakes, and learn.

Yes, it feels good to be acknowledged. But I feel like I’ve been praised for peeing IN the toilet, instead of beside it.

Apologizing, learning, and making amends after you hurt people shouldn’t be “the most reasonable thing I’ve heard from a person with a Palestinian flag pfp.”

It should be BASIC DECENCY.

And the fact that it’s apparently so uncommon should tell you how much unnecessary stress and fear Jewish people have been living with because of people who consider themselves defenders of human rights.

By all means, be angry at the Likud, the IDF, and the politicians, reporters, and specific media outlets who choose to enable and cover up for them.

But direct that anger toward the people who deserve it and are in a position to do something about it, not random people who simply happen to be Jewish, or who don’t want millions of people to be turned into refugees when less violent methods of achieving freedom and rights for Palestinians are available.

Stop peeing beside the toilet, people.

[kathaynesart]

Firstly, love this moment here

Secondly, what the heck is a B01-02? 😅

It seems a little peek into Donnie's naming convention is in order.

B = Bomb The first two digits ("01") designate what TYPE of bomb it is. The second two digits ("02") describe the strength level.

So for example, the one below is a "B06-01." Different bomb type, but at maximum strength level.

Donnie has such a wide array of shields, bombs, and other ninpo built tools at his disposal that it actually became necessary for Leo to learn the codes. Otherwise his orders would go something like this:

"Donnie! We need a bomb!" "What kind of bomb?" "The big one that you used to take down the Krang ship last month!" "I took down multiple ships last month." "The one that looks like a big drill!" "Ah yes that one." "But like... smaller." "...Can you define that in killitons?" "NO. NO KILLITONS. NOTHING THAT BIG. Just... SMALLER!" "....HOW MUCH SMALLER?" "Like... twice as small??" "...You mean half as large." "You know what I mean--!"

And then Leo dies because it took too long for Donnie to figure out how big of a bomb to send. The end.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Despite Sparta’s reputation for superior fighting, Spartan armies were as likely to lose battles as to win them, especially against peer opponents such as other Greek city-states. Sparta defeated Athens in the Peloponnesian War—but only by accepting Persian money to do it, reopening the door to Persian influence in the Aegean, which Greek victories at Plataea and Salamis nearly a century early had closed. Famous Spartan victories at Plataea and Mantinea were matched by consequential defeats at Pylos, Arginusae, and ultimately Leuctra. That last defeat at Leuctra, delivered by Thebes a mere 33 years after Sparta’s triumph over Athens, broke the back of Spartan power permanently, reducing Sparta to the status of a second-class power from which it never recovered. Sparta was one of the largest Greek city-states in the classical period, yet it struggled to achieve meaningful political objectives; the result of Spartan arms abroad was mostly failure. Sparta was particularly poor at logistics; while Athens could maintain armies across the Eastern Mediterranean, Sparta repeatedly struggled to keep an army in the field even within Greece. Indeed, Sparta spent the entirety of the initial phase of the Peloponnesian War, the Archidamian War (431-421 B.C.), failing to solve the basic logistical problem of operating long term in Attica, less than 150 miles overland from Sparta and just a few days on foot from the nearest friendly major port and market, Corinth. The Spartans were at best tactically and strategically uncreative. Tactically, Sparta employed the phalanx, a close-order shield and spear formation. But while elements of the hoplite phalanx are often presented in popular culture as uniquely Spartan, the formation and its equipment were common among the Greeks from at least the early fifth century, if not earlier. And beyond the phalanx, the Spartans were not innovators, slow to experiment with new tactics, combined arms, and naval operations. Instead, Spartan leaders consistently tried to solve their military problems with pitched hoplite battles. Spartan efforts to compel friendship by hoplite battle were particularly unsuccessful, as with the failed Spartan efforts to compel Corinth to rejoin the Spartan-led Peloponnesian League by force during the Corinthian War. Sparta’s military mediocrity seems inexplicable given the city-state’s popular reputation as a highly militarized society, but modern scholarship has shown that this, too, is mostly a mirage. The agoge, Sparta’s rearing system for citizen boys, frequently represented in popular culture as akin to an intense military bootcamp, in fact included no arms training or military drills and was primarily designed to instill obedience and conformity rather than skill at arms or tactics. In order to instill that obedience, the older boys were encouraged to police the younger boys with violence, with the result that even in adulthood Spartan citizens were liable to settle disputes with their fists, a tendency that predictably made them poor diplomats. But while Sparta’s military performance was merely mediocre, no better or worse than its Greek neighbors, Spartan politics makes it an exceptionally bad example for citizens or soldiers in a modern free society. Modern scholars continue to debate the degree to which ancient Sparta exercised a unique tyranny of the state over the lives of individual Spartan citizens. However, the Spartan citizenry represented only a tiny minority of people in Sparta, likely never more than 15 percent, including women of citizen status (who could not vote or hold office). Instead, the vast majority of people in Sparta, between 65 and 85 percent, were enslaved helots. (The remainder of the population was confined to Sparta’s bewildering array of noncitizen underclasses.) The figure is staggering, far higher than any other ancient Mediterranean state or, for instance, the antebellum American South, rightly termed a slave society with a third of its people enslaved.

[joemama-2]

somethin' sweet

synopsis: you own a five-star renowned restaurant that is extremely hard to get into. business is great, the customers love it. everything is as perfect as can be. that is until a harsh food critic leaves you a bad review. you're stuck with a dilemma, let this one review overcome you. or.....fuck him so he can change it. tags: smut, sort of public sex, vaginal penetration, oral, gojo is kind of mean and annoying, praise, degradation, doggy, missionary, cunnilingus, dividers by @cafekitsune word count: 6370

The one time you’re not here, the one time you actually listen to everyone’s complaints about taking time to yourself because you overwork way too much. The one time you use your PTO to vacation to Bali for a week,

A distinguished critic visits your restaurant. 

You stare down at the screen in your hands, having not at all prepared for this news to be brought on you as soon as you enter. Its words stare back at you, taunting you almost. You’re half tempted to throw it across the kitchen, but that would be another expense added to your list of supplies you needed to buy for the upcoming month.

“What day did he come?” you ask as your pointer finger scrolls the screen, reading more of the nasty review that was left.

“A Saturday. None of us even knew he was coming.” Mayra, your head sous chef, replies. The rest of the staff stands around. Some in nervousness, anticipation, and even anger at the predicament. “We sat him on the top. Even made sure he had the whole floor to himself.”

The top floor, strictly reserved for distinguished guests who waited on your month long reservation list, or for those who would simply buy it out for the night. Your top floor is constantly raved about in the media, sometimes for its lavishness and other times in jealousy. Long story short, the top floor is for the best of the best.

And they gave him that.

But it seems he didn’t care for that at all.

“If you’re in the mood for a culinary adventure that feels more like a misadventure, look no further than Lovely Haven, the so-called “fusion” restaurant that blends American comfort food with Italian classics. Unfortunately, the only thing they seem to have fused successfully is disappointment and confusion. The result is a dismal failure that feels like a cruel joke on the palate, this is what happens when culinary confusion collides with utter mediocrity.

Let’s start with the decor—an odd mix of rustic Italian charm and the kind of neon signs you'd find in a questionable diner. It’s as if someone couldn’t decide whether to create a romantic trattoria or a roadside burger joint. The atmosphere is confusing, much like the menu.”

You scoff as you read this part to yourself. The decor? The decor was one of the things almost every customer raved about. Its bright lights mixed with sleek and stainless furniture was the epitome of success. Going as far as bugging your interior designer for days, even weeks on end, to get it down to the T. 

Secondly, mediocre? How dare he? You’ve been in the culinary arts for over two decades now, and so has your staff. You were very nitpicky and quite a perfectionist when assembling your employees for your place of solace. Your 5-star Michelin restaurant, yes, 5-star. It only took two years to achieve that goal, which placed you as the quickest growing restaurant in your area. And he’s treating it like you’re nothing but a simple Applebee’s or Chili’s. 

The balls on this man.

“Now, onto the menu—a dizzying array of choices that reads like a desperate attempt at creativity gone horribly awry. The lasagna burger is a prime example of this misguided ambition. It arrives as a soggy monstrosity, with layers of pasta and a sad, overcooked beef patty that would make even the most forgiving diner weep. It’s a culinary abomination, devoid of flavor and entirely forgettable.

Then there are the “famous” Alfredo fries, which manage to be both an insult to fries and Alfredo sauce. The dish is an affront to all things Italian and American, featuring limp, greasy fries drowning in a thick, tasteless goo that resembles some sort of industrial paste. It’s a disgrace, and I genuinely questioned whether anyone in the kitchen had ever tasted actual food before.”

By this point, your grip has tightened on the Ipad, jaw clenching and brows furrowing. This man, he really, really was an asshole. Disrespecting your hard-working kitchen staff was a low blow that you took personally. “How long did it take to get his food out to him?”

“Twenty minutes, Y/N.” Luke, one of the managers, replies. “I timed it and made sure it was prepared before the other guests who were dining.”

So not only was he being treated like a princess, but the other customers, who probably got there before him, received their food after he was served. All for the sake of him not reviewing your restaurant’s “unkempt timeliness”.

You continue to read the last few paragraphs while your stomach twists and turns.

“Service, predictably, matched the culinary catastrophe. Our server was inattentive and seemed more interested in their phone than in providing any semblance of hospitality. Drinks took an eternity to arrive—warm, naturally, because why would you expect cold beverages at a restaurant?

Dessert? Oh, you mean the “Tiramisu Sundae”? It’s a ghastly creation that defies logic, featuring layers of sad, mushy sponge cake drowned in what could only be described as a failed attempt at chocolate syrup. The entire dish is an insult to the beloved Italian classic, tasting more like a punishment than a treat.

In conclusion, Lovely Haven is not just a failure; it’s a disgrace to the culinary arts. If you value your taste buds and your sanity, steer clear of this pitiful excuse for a restaurant. Save your money and your appetite for a place that actually understands food. You deserve better.”

The silence that follows is harsh, awaiting a potential outburst from you. You lift your head and swivel around to glare at the group around you. “Who served him?”

Hesitance replies back, some of your staff looking down as though the ground seems more interesting than your death glare. It isn’t until you ask the question again, in a firmer tone, does Mayra respond. “Susan.”

Jesus christ. 

As if things couldn’t be worse, who’s bright idea was it to decide that the slacking employee serves your distinguished guest. The one person who has been trying your presence since she was hired. “Where is—”

You’re disrupted by the kitchen door opening, the problem herself walking through with earbuds in and of course, scrolling on her phone. As she looks up and sees the numerous amount of eyes on her, her steps falter. Confusion sparks through her expression, but as soon as you step forward, it begins to click.

“You’re thirty minutes late, I put you on opening because you said you couldn’t close anymore.” You don’t even have it in you to lighten your tone, eyes narrowed and voice clipped in annoyance, frustration. “Your performance has been lacking for months now, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Ever the brat she is, her arms cross. “I’m a busy college student, I have other priorities and things on my mind unlike the rest of you.”

“And I understand that,” you snap back.”But there is a difference between having other priorities and simply not caring. You don’t listen, you show up late, and you’re using your phone while you’re on the floor. Do you understand how extremely disrespectful that is?”

A moment of silence passes as she seems to formulate what to say in her mind. “I jus—”

“You’re fired.” you cut her off. “Your last check will be deposited within 24 hours, do not come back and if you do, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

Luke and Mayra, along with your other manager, Ren, sit next to you in your office. Computer screen displayed in front of you four while your fingers type away. Mayra glances at your focused expression before back at the screen. “Do you really think he’ll reply back? Critics don’t usually come to review a place for a second time, especially one they strongly advised against.”

“I don’t care,” you murmur, eyes not straying from the email you’re drafting out. “Out of the seven years we’ve been operating, we haven’t had a single bad review. And now, this entitled ass thinks just because he gets paid to eat and critic, he can ruin our reputation.”

Ren sighs, hand lifted to his forehead. “Y/N, it’s okay. One bad review doesn’t and won’t define us.”

“Besides, he’s known for being harsh, he does this to everyone,” Luke adds on.

“Even more of a reason for me to do this. I will not allow him to openly disrespect our hard work and dedication like this.”

The three around you give one another a knowing look, right before you click send on the email.

“Hello, Mr. Gojo. 

My name is Y/N L/N, I’m the owner of Lovely Haven, a place you recently reviewed. After reading your honest review, I am extremely upset and apologetic for the food and service you received that day. That is not at all what we strive for, and again, I sincerely apologize. 

If you would accept, I would like to set up a second visit for you. We are closed on this coming Friday, due to the holiday, but I’d love to personally serve you myself and answer any and all questions you may have regarding Lovely Haven and its history.

Please respond back as soon as you have a moment. Thank you again.

Kindly,

Y/N L/N”

“Hello, Ms. LN,

I appreciate you reaching out to me. I’ll come around 8am on Friday. Thank you.

Sincerely, 

Gojo Satoru”

You;ve spent the better half of the past two hours setting up and making sure everything is perfect. You’ll be damned if you have a rerun of last time, especially on your watch. Your staff insisted you don’t handle this alone, urging for at least two cooks to be present. But you refused.

Lovely Haven is your business and creation, your heart. So in a way, you feel as if it’s your job as the owner to make this all right. If anyone can serve this man, it’s you. 

You’re dressed formally, hair up (in case he tries to complain about hair in his food). Wearing a simple black dress, modest enough as it reaches your knees. It’s tight, but not too tight. You’re wearing small black heels to match, gold jewelry complimenting the attire. 

The clock inches towards 8 and you, for some reason, find yourself feeling oddly nervous. Maybe it’s the anticipation or anxiousness for a second try. Your stomach curls, almost like you’re a lovestruck high schooler seeing her crush in the hallways. Sweaty handles fiddle together in front of you while your eyes dart from the watch on your wrist and the glass front doors.

Either this man had a penchant for being late, or you somehow mixed your days up and he’s not coming today. Dramatically, you check your phone and let out a sigh of relief when you see it’s Friday. Okay, good. Then he’s really just late.

Well, not exactly late. But he said he’d get here at 8, it’s 7:57. Usually people don’t get to places at the time they said, because if he came at 8 exactly, that is late. You should always show up at least five minutes before your estimated arrival time, at least that’s how you thought.

No, that’s how most normal, responsible adults thought.

Maybe he’s not normal. Can’t be if he gave you a one star and brutal review. He’s probably just trying to be different from the rest. And you hate people like that. Shitting on something that is actually good, whether it be a show or movie, simply because everyone else says it's good. And the fact that he’s known for his low reviews is even more infuriating. 

There’s no way every place he visits is below three stars. It has to be his taste buds, they’re probably—

“Good morning.”

You snap your head up, completely lost in thought that you didn’t even notice, let alone hear the dreadful man walk in. Already not off to a good start. A smile finds its way on your face, hand held out, to which he shakes. “Good morning, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gojo. I’m Y/N.”

He nods, a small smile reciprocated back. “I figured.”

Is it just you or did he tone sound almost condescending? And that smile on his face seems like he’s the type to think he knows it all. 

Nope, don’t do that. 

Pulling your hand away after what seems like a longer than usual handshake, you step aside and motion towards the array of tables. “Well, why don’t I show you to your table?”

“Yeah, why don’t you?” he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks, raising a thin, white eyebrow as if to silently urge you to start walking. You hold back an eye twitch, turning around and walking to the area you set up specifically for him.

He’s following behind you as you walk, the heels of your shoes softy clanking against the ceramic tile. As you glance back, you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes quickly raise up to meet yours. Like he was—

“I apologize for not being around last time, I was on vacation.” you say, cutting off your own train of thought that you won’t entertain.

“Ah, no worries. Where did you go?” His pace matches your own now, walking side by side as his arm barely brushes against your bare skin. “Somewhere nice?”

You chuckle lightly and nod. “Yes, I went to Bali. It was quite lovely. The people were very welcoming and the food was absolutely delicious.”

A hum. “Better than this place, I hope.”

That comment. God, that comment. And the fact that he’s hiding it behind his sickeningly sweet smile, a tilt to his voice like he’s joking but not actually joking. You’ll pray for the former. “I can assure you, Mr. Gojo, both residences of food are exquisite.”

You two get to the square table prepared for him. A crisp, white linen tablecloth across the surface, that creates a clean and elegant contrast that elevated the rustic charm. At the center, a simple yet striking centerpiece emerged—a small terracotta pot filled with fresh basil and rosemary, their vibrant green leaves offering a delightful aroma that whispered of Italian kitchens.

Polished silverware gleamed in the soft light, laid out neatly on either side, ready for the culinary delights to come. An elegant, crystal wine glass on the side. Cloth napkins, folded into intricate designs, rested atop his plate. The dual flickering candles in small glass holders cast a warm glow over the table, creating an intimate atmosphere that you hoped would help catch his eye.

Finally, a menu card that displayed the special dishes you had prepared just for him. You took the time out of your day to make this specifically for today, crafting your menu for a man who probably didn’t think twice about it was not on your 2024 bingo card.

He takes his seat as you stand in front of him, placing the menu closer to his reach. “Here we have a variety of our best sellers and limited editions. Just for you, Mr. Gojo.” Your smile gets a little harder to keep up as he lazily sits back in his seat, scanning the menu with his sharp, blue eyes.

“Interesting,” he observes, even flipping it over. He glances back up at you. “The stuffed arancini, is that good?”

“Delicious, sir.”

“Okay,” he looks back down at the menu. “Then I’ll get the Buffalo Cauliflower Bites for an appetizer, plus the Bruschetta Trio. Oh, and to drink, I want one of your craft mocktails.”

So he asks for your opinion, and doesn’t even order it. “Of course, Mr. Gojo.” You don’t write it down, having already committed his order to memory, due to years in the food industry. “I’ll get started on that right now.”

With one more smile, you turn around and head to the kitchen. As soon as the doors close, your face hardens with irritation. Walking around to grab the appropriate ingredients, grumbling to yourself curses. Sure you’ll make his food and smile at him, doesn't mean you won’t be a brat about it behind closed doors. 

The minutes Gojo spends alone, he’s meticulously counting them down. Eyebrow raised as he eyes the kitchen doors and the arms of the small clock. Leg crossed over the other with his arm resting on top of the back of his chair that he;s currently tipping back and forth with the stability of his foot. 

After about three minutes, you greet him with his mocktail, setting it down. “Here you go, sir.”

“Finally, I almost died of thirst, you know?” He huffs a small chuckle and he sips from the straw. You want to grimace as he swishes the liquid around his mouth, head tilting in dramatics. He’s acting like it’s mouthwash or something. As he swallows, you do your best not to focus on the bobbing of his Adam’s apple.

What do you think you’re doing? Checking him out right now, seriously?

“How is it?” Your voice raises a tad, either in nervousness or a way to calm your suddenly rapid beating heart. 

“Not too bad, a little sour for me.” He comments, tongue coming out to lick across his bottom lip. “What’s in it?”

“Basil lemonade and berry spritz, Mr. Gojo.” 

“Satoru,” he corrects you, eyes rolling while his hand waves around dismissively. “Stop calling me ‘sir’ and all that, makes me feel old. Besides, this is supposed to feel comfortable isn’t it? Don’t force yourself with the formalities.” 

Well, that’s a small breath of relief. You simply nod. “Of course, Satoru. Then you may call me Y/N.”

“Was already gonna do that.”

“Right.” 

A small pause follows, hands awkwardly fiddling behind his back. You didn’t even realize it before, but the way he stares feels really invading. Especially with how bright his eyes are, you’re starting to feel naked under his gaze. Like he can sense it, he grins boyishly. “The appetizers?”

You nod again, quicker this time, clearing your throat. “Yes, coming right up.”

And once more, you leave him be while you finish up his food. The bruschetta trio, a classic tomato and basil, roasted red pepper and feta, with wild mushroom and truffle oil topping, served on toasted artisan bread. This dish is loved among your regulars.

And the buffalo cauliflower bites which are spicy, crispy cauliflower tossed in buffalo sauce, served with a side of creamy blue cheese dressing. Perfect for customers with a higher spice tolerance, craving that explosive taste in their mouths.

Holding the two white, glass plates with ease, the doors push open by your back as you walk back over to him. “Bruschetta and the cauliflower, Satoru.”

He doesn’t waste time in taking small, careful bites of each platter. Humming in thought as he does this. It takes a couple minutes before he speaks, using the cloth to wipe at the corner of his mouth. “The mushroom is quite bland, the bread is too hard. And the blue cheese doesn’t go well with the bites.”

Each word is like a punch to your gut. He’s really just finding every little thing to pick at, isn’t he? Lips pursing, your eyebrows raise in faux consideration. “I see, I can remove the dressing for you, and I’ll serve you a softer piece of bread.”

Your hands reach out to take them away, just as his moves into frame. Your fingertips brush against the back of his hand. “No need to take them away, just stating facts.” His smile never seems to leave and each growing second, you feel more and more tempted to wipe it off his face. He gently pushes your hands away, interlacing his fingers together. “Do you expect replacements to suddenly wipe my memory clean? Why should I have to rely on you giving me a replica of what I ordered, when the original piece should’ve met my expectations?”

A little caught off guard by his sudden questioning, you gulp and clear your throat. “Well, if something is not up to par for my guests, it is my duty to replace that with something that is.”

“Sure, but I’m asking why it wasn’t perfect the first time.” He leisurely sips from his mocktail. 

A small, but forced laugh leaves your lips. “We do try our best every single time, Satoru. Being perfect has proved hard when everyone has different tastes.”

“So you just give out generic food and hope for the best?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

Your brows begin to furrow at his nonchalance, lip barely quirking down into a frown. “I’m sorry, but our food is not generic. We serve with love and dedication.”

“Love,” he repeats in a mocking tone, picking at the bites with his fork. “This was made with love?”

He’s really getting on your nerves now. “Yes, it was. If you do not like it then I can remake—”

“I’ll take the balsamic glazed chicken,” he cuts you off. “With the alfredo fries. You’re talking about remakes, right? Then make those fries good this time. Thanks.” 

You can’t help but stare down at him, the nerve he has is beyond rude. His demanding nature contrasts with your helping one. But, you stay resolute in your politeness, mumbling a small ‘of course’ before disappearing back into the kitchen. 

It’s a disaster, truly.

A hard, long, infuriatingly annoying disaster. 

Every platter crafted with delicacy and carefulness, he sets aside with calmness. Claiming how the littlest of little things was wrong or how it tasted bad. He even makes a couple snide comments about where you learned to cook from and they should be ashamed.

No matter what, however, he conceals his comments with those stupid laughs you’ve started to despise. 

Like it’s funny to him how much you’re failing to please him. 

Sweat threatens to trickle down your forehead, using a spare towel to dab at your face. Your hair has started to become a tad unkempt, having to constantly push stray pieces of hair out your face and even grabbing at your hair in frustration. This is probably your own fault for setting this all up, but never did you imagine it would turn out like this.

His table is filled with a variety of plates and dishes stacked unceremoniously on top of each other to make room for the next one.  

Throughout it all, he watches your struggle in silent amusement. Everytime you turn around to stomp back into the kitchen, he gets a clear, nice view of the way the fabric of your dress tugs around your ass, legs sleek with whatever lotion you decided to put on.

Your perfume fills his nostrils as you come back to him, to which he feels more and more motivated to bring you down and just stuff his face into the crook of your neck. Or the middle of your plump thighs that have just been calling out to him like a siren.

Satoru would like to think he’s a man of self control, but you’re really pushing him, and you’re not even trying. 

He’s being purposeful with his actions just to keep this entire visit long. Just so he can keep checking you out and biting his lip as he inhales your scent. Just so he can have the ample amount of time to force down the boner he has from under the table.

And well, because he’s really, really looking forward to dessert.

You breathe out a heavy breath, one of exhaustion as you present him with yet another platter. He laughs to himself as he takes a bite.

“Meh, too soggy.”

That’s it. “I’ve given you everything on the menu.”

“Oh, have you?” His head tilts innocently. 

Your teeth grit. “Yes, I have.”

“Well, that’s a bummer. You really shouldn’t have had such a limited variation.”

“It’s not lim–”

“Dessert, right? That usually comes after the main course.”

“......yes. What would you like?” You’re forcing your words out by now, hands twitching as they threaten to grip his pretty throat. 

Wait, pretty?

Jesus christ, can you stop thinking that right now?

“Hmmmm, let’s see here.” As his eyes scan over the desserts listed on the menu, a frown, or a pout, makes way onto his lips. You close your eyes for a second, counting from one to ten and back. “Is this it?”

“Yes.” 

“I have to say,” he lowly whistles. “none of this looks very….appealing.” As he looks back up at you, there’s a small glint in his expression. One that almost causes you to shiver, for some reason. 

Is he playing with you now?

“Nothing?” You ask, arms crossing over your chest. “All of that is what guests order the most.”

“Well, I’m not some regular schmegular guest, now am I?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s standing, one hand stuffed into his pocket while the other meekly points to you. “So, what do you say? You gonna give me something I actually want?”

A small huff escapes from your lips, now longer having the strength to hold back your irritation. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh cmon, don’t give me that.”

“Give you what?”

“That.” He juts his chin in the direction of your scowl. “Do you usually frown at your customers?”

“I frown at men who take my kindness for granted,” is your response, eyes narrowing. “Also, you have been nitpicking every single thing I’ve given you. You’ve been extremely rude about it.”

“Rude? Is honesty rude now? I thought you wanted my honesty.”

“There’s a stark difference between the two.”

“Really?” He leans closer, face teetering on the line of too close as his point finger just barely skims across your forearm. “Mind enlightening me?”

Your breath almost hitches, skin feeling all too warm. You peek down at his finger before back to his face, heart beating faster than normal. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What’s it look like?” He counters. 

“Like you’re trying to flirt with me.”

He barks out a laugh. “Trying? No honey, I am. Why, do you like it?”

“No, I don’t like being flirted with by rude and random men.” You reply, tilting your chin up. “Especially you, sir.”

His grin widens. “Cute. But you know what I don’t like?” As he steps closer, you’re forced to step back. “No dessert.”

His finger travels up your arm, your shoulder, then stops at your jawline, head tilting as his breath fans your cheek. “So, what else can I eat?”

This is stupid. So stupid. Dangerous. Idiotic. Out of character. Anything that means bad. 

Is this really all for a good review by some asshat who takes joy out of making people's lives harder? Or are you  actually enjoying it? 

You feel disgusted at the situation, angered and infuriated that you’ve fallen into his trap. You want to curse out to whatever gods that may be watching and demand why you couldn’t hold back. 

Either way, you’re not the only one who couldn’t hold back. 

Your breath hitches, a broken string of whines leaving you as the flat of his tongue runs through your slippery folds. His hands on your thighs keep you grounded in place atop the table, because your hips keep twitching up in need of more friction. 

You can’t even see his face as it’s so far buried into your wet pussy, practically stuffing his face with it. But god do you feel him. The tips of his hair tickle your inner thighs. His low moan reverberates through you, making you shiver and tingle with excitement. 

“A—ahh….!” Your hand finds a place on his hair, pulling as your head tilts back with another moan. “F—fuck…”

His lips smile against your skin, pulling away for a second to look up at your blissed out expression. His face is coated in your juices and you haven’t even came yet. “Pretty good, might be the best thing I’ve had today.”

As he goes back to ravishing you, his tongue slips into your aching hole. Which causes your back to arch up, a higher pitched whine leaving you. “Tad salty, very sweet.”

His comments feel degrading almost. But with the way your thighs threaten to close around his head, pushing his face closer to your cunt, he has a feeling you like it. 

It’s electrifying and confusing at the same time. You’ve never been one with hookup culture, you’re not a virgin either but this is on a totally different level. Here you are, letting him tongue fuck you in the middle of the empty restaurant in which you were supposed to be serving him. 

Technically you are still serving him.

He urges your hips closer to the edge of the table, spitting harshly against you as he delves back into giving you the best eat of your life. 

His tongue alternates between your hole and clit, giving both equal attention while his fingers knead the plush skin of your smooth thighs. Your toes curl in your heels and you feel so close. 

You can practically taste it on your tongue, not even mindful anymore of the noises that you’re making. Too engrossed in the utter bliss of the way his mouth sucks and licks at your folds. 

You don’t even know you’ve finished until he’s come back up, licking away your release that’s plastered to his pale skin. Left panting and staring up at the dangling lights that feel blinding. 

What brings you back down to Earth is the soft clanking of metal. Your head whips down just as he’s unbuckling his pants, eyes blown wide. “W-what are you doing?”

He simply looks at you, shrugging with nonchalance as his belt comes undone, button and zipper next. “Gonna fuck your pussy, what else?”

You scramble to sit up, but he’s faster. Holding your legs open, leaning his face closer. “What? Don’t wanna?”

“I—I shouldn’t. I mean, we shouldn’t.”

“Pfft, why not?”

“Because this wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“But it has,” he tugs his slacks down, giving you full view of the raging boner nestled under his black boxers. His hand reaches to give himself a few strokes. “Haven’t been this hard in a long time.”

You feel your release ooze down onto the tablecloth, hole feeling empty as it clenches around air. All you can do is watch him jerk himself, gulping as you lick your lips. “This is….really wrong.”

Yet it feels so right. 

His lips touch the side of your neck, kissing and sucking a small mark into your skin. You tilt your head for him, arm coming up to hold around his neck. Chest heaving up and down. “I’ll fuck you good, I promise.”

Your eyes are instantly drawn down to his leaking cock as he pulls it out. Long and thin veins decorating the length with pre-cum leaking out the head. Trimmed with a small white bush of pubic hair at his base. It looks pretty. 

He huffs out a breathy laugh, titling your face up to him, lips meeting. His lips are soft and plush, melting into it. He keeps his hand on your nape so he can deepen the kiss, tongue invading your mouth like a snake. 

Spit dribbles down the corners of your mouths. All the while he’s teasing your entrance with his cock. 

“Ngh!” You pull away, face scrunching and mouth agape. 

“Mm, like that?” His tip runs up and down your slit, smearing his pre into your folds and around them. The sight is lewd. “So wet, just from my tongue too. How many guys make you finish from just eating you out?”

Out of all the times he tries for a conversation, does right now have to be one? “N-none…”

He hums. “So I’m the only one? I like that.”

He finds your hole, just barely pushing in. Your nails claw at his shoulders, whimpering into his ear. “S-shit, just wait a second…”

“For what?” His voice is husky, brows pinched together. The warmth from your cunt practically enveloping him whole. 

You croak out something unintelligible. For a few seconds, you two stay frozen like this. But that’s cut short as he slowly begins to slide deeper. “Shit, stop squeezin’ me.” He grunts.

All you can offer is a weak “I’m not” before being cut off by a breathy moan, one he replicates with you. He moves in deeper and deeper, until he’s finally buried to the hilt in your warm pussy. It’s big, bigger than you’ve ever taken. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

His fingers dig into your hips while your nails into his shoulders. 

Practically feeling his cock twitch within you, you have to hold back squeezing around him even more. But it just feels too good not to. It makes you feel full. 

As he begins to move, he’s whispering dirty praises into your ear.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“Who knew you had such good pussy.”

“Look at you, sucking me in like a good little whore, huh?”

“Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had.”

Each word he emphasizes with a quicker thrust. The silverware clanks around you, some even falling to the ground. The table creaks and the cloth crumples up. “W-wait….slow…ngh!” 

“No slow,’ he patronizingly laughs, his gaze darkened as he looks at you. “Going fast, you’re gonna take it too. ‘Cause you’re a desperate little thing, aren't you?”

You whine out, biting down hard on your lip you’re surprised you’re not drawing blood yet. He takes this as an invitation to devour your mouth once more. The kiss is harder this time, more sloppy. Seems sloppy is his thing.

Before you know it, he manhandles you to flip over, ass high in the air while his hand forces your back down into an arch. “Just like that. Stay still and I’ll let you cum again.”

With this new position, he’s able to hit spots you didn’t even know were there. All you have to hold on is the cloth of the table, balling them into your fists while he mercilessly pounds into your pussy from the back. His balls hit your clit in a repetitive motion that damn near causes you to see stars. 

Noises and mumble words fall out your mouth like water, the side of your face being pushed down into the hard surface. His hand twirls and tangles in your hair before giving it a hard tug back. 

“Mngh!”

With one hand on your hip and the other in your hair, it gives him all the reigns to perfectly fuck your squelching hole, pace unforgiving. And what’s he doing the whole time? Laughing. That asshole is laughing.

Either at your state or the fact that you fit so perfectly snug around his cock like a ring.

It’s like he’s moving on autopilot, just one thing on his mind. Fucking you like your his fleshlight he keeps in his room. “Maybe I should’ve come here sooner—fuck—could’ve had this pussy all to myself even sooner.”

He groans, head tilting back as a familiar sensation bubbles in his stomach. “Ah, god…fuck.”

“D-dont cum!” You half-heartedly shout, body trembling in preparation for your second release of the day.

“Hah?” he huffs out. “You tell a guy who’s fucking a pretty pussy he can’t come? You’re crazy.”

“Ah….hah…!” You mewl out, squeezing around him.

He curses under his breath, hips stuttering. A warm feeling erupts deep within your cunt, causing you to whine. It makes your whole body feel as if it’s on fire, thighs shaking. Your cum mixes with his own, dripping down the backs of your thighs in a disgusting manner. You’re left panting for air

He spends a good time watching it all happen, and as he pulls out, seeing your hole twitch and tremor around air almost starts to make him hard again. He leans over, hot air hitting the shell of your ear, his voice low and husky. “Up for more?”

Monday, 9am.

Incoming message from 

Mayra: 

Check your email, forwarded you something.

You groan tiredly, fingers fiddling with the bright screen of your phone. Clicking on the wrong app a couple times before opening your Gmail. You press on the email from Mayra, an attached link.

The link leads you to a familiar site, embarrassment painting your features as you read.

“After a rather lackluster first experience at 'Lovely Haven,' I was pleasantly surprised by my second visit. Walking into the restaurant felt like stepping into a cozy embrace, with the ambiance perfectly set to spark a little magic. The soft music and intimate lighting created an atmosphere that made everything feel just a little more exciting.

Let’s talk about the food. I started with the savory starter, which was a perfect balance of flavors. Each bite was a tantalizing tease that had me eagerly anticipating what was to come. Then came the main course, which was cooked to perfection and bursting with flavor. It had just the right amount of kick, leaving me wanting more and more.

 I decided to try their special dessert this time, and let me tell you, it was absolutely divine. Each bite was a burst of flavors, rich and decadent, just how I like it. The way it melted on my tongue was nothing short of a culinary revelation. I might have lingered a little too long over that dish—can you blame me? It was like savoring a sweet secret that just kept getting better.

But let’s not forget about the service. The owner was not only charming but also incredibly attentive. There was a delightful chemistry between us that made the evening even more enjoyable. She made sure I was well taken care of, adding that special touch that turned a simple meal into something unforgettable.

If you’re looking for a place that offers more than just food—something that tantalizes the senses and leaves you feeling revitalized—I highly recommend giving 'Lovely Haven' a try. Just be prepared for some delicious surprises that might have you coming back for seconds (or thirds!). I certainly will!"

a/n: first smut piece kind of. if there's typos, pls overlook them, i was very tired and in heat. sorry if it's not very slhow burn :( but i hope you all enjoyed. thank you smmm <3

[fatalism-and-villainy]

My other frustration with how D/s gets discussed in fandom is that, yes, sometimes people can be overly prescriptivist and essentialist in how they argue for their headcanons about characters' role preferences. Or they just conflate the external kayfabe of a given role with a character's overall personality (there are many doms who are shy and neurotic, lol. Just for one example).

But this sort of thing gets conflated with having literally any character-based justification for imagining them preferring a given role (or actively disliking another one). No, there's no particular "type" of person who enjoys dominance or submission, but there's also no particular "type" of person who enjoys, idk, hockey, or scrapbooking. People come up with headcanons for characters' other hobbies or interests all the time, and will use traits or preferences that they show in canon to justify them. Why is it suddenly off-limits to take into account how a character interacts with others, what they desire from relationships, or what their overall fantasies are when imagining how they might relate to kink? People's sexualities are generally not separable from their entire self, or how they process or relate to people and objects in a non-sexual context.

Or why is it permissible to do that but only if you're open to seeing them in either role? Sure, many of the same inclinations and preferences in their abstract form can manifest in either dominance or submission, but this varies greatly from person to person. Part of the process of coming up with headcanons is imagining a character as a specific person, rather than an abstract construct or cluster of signifiers, and thus a specific manifestation of a wide array of potentialities. "I think they'd find this unpleasant, unfulfilling, or boring, for xyz reasons" can be just as meaningful character work as "Here's a way they could possibly be into this."

A specific subset of my frustration with this sort of thing as well is the subtext I sometimes pick up on that the only reason you'd imagine a character as dominant is because you're horny for them, and giving them the "chance" to be submissive is the only way of bestowing care or vulnerability or interiority in general onto them. (And thus the idea that imagining both characters as switches is the only way for them both to get their needs met.) And I really wish people would stop framing things this way.

[creatingblackcharacters]

While I like seeing people drawing Black n brown characters, sometimes I feel that a bunch of white people will draw the MCs of their favourite podcast as Black or ambigously brown to assuade themselves that they're interacting with a diverse array of media, rather than actually searching out anything from people from the global majority. Like even in the same podcast it's like take magnus archive's protocol as an example, I feel like there's more people with typically white-coded voices drawn as either Black or Brown than I see of art of Freddy or Sam, not even counting Jon. Like I say this as a Black British person with a typical English accent (my mum even used to use her upper middle class accent to trick/surprise white people a bit when they were renting out her cabin), it's like the fandoms are uncomfortable with anyone who is /too/ obviously non-white

Lmao yeah the white people voice, we've all got one.

I kind of see what you mean. It's like the only way they're willing to interact with a Black character is if it's a Black version of a white character they know and love, but not with any Black characters and especially not from Black writers. I believe it to be a form of tokenization, where it's clear that people want the credit of caring without having to really interact. I feel similar suspicions sometimes about genderbends of popular male characters, where it's like... Do you like women, or do you just like the "woman version" of this particular male character?

[shitpostingsapphic]

"I hate Caitlyn because of the system she represents. I'm so tired of people acting like we can'thate her for that."

Let's have a long, hard talk.

This argument IS made in direct comparison to the oppressive systems we see in real life, so let's first talk about how Caitlyn compares to real world oppressive systems, her faults and the ways she fails the people she serves, and then let's talk about how you're just fucking wrong about her and how you hate the wrong character.

Caitlyn is an enforcer. Stating the obvious. She is a member of a larger system she chose to be a part of, because she wanted to serve the people. She was ignorant of the system's corruption as we see throughout season 1. Her initial intentions with becoming an enforcer are because she wants to fight injustice, defy the stuff politics of Piltover that she was raised under, and have her own identity.

At the end of season 1, several things happen to Caitlyn. She is abducted naked from her home, held hostage for at minimum 24 hours, during which time an array of things could have happened to her but of which we know for certain left her TERRIFIED of the young girl with blue hair she was abducted by. She watches that same girl fire an explosive that kills her mother. Preceding this, she has been witness to the ways Silco has harmed the people of the undercity and how he had the enforcers in his pocket in order to do it. Ekko explicitly tells her this. He tells her how Silco has ruined lives and how the enforcers were the manpower that let it happen.

Caitlyn walks away from season 1 changed in many ways. She is brokenhearted and traumatized, but still holds a strong desire to protect the innocent people of both cities. Because of who she has been up to this point, her belief is that she can rectify the wrongs by using the power of her position to do good instead of aid corruption. Her asking Vi to become an enforcer to do as much is in bad taste, yes. Which she later apologizes for and takes ownership for. That doesn't remove the good intention behind it. And it doesn't negate that Vi can later see the logic behind it. Being able to take control of a bad situation and use that power to do good instead of abusing that power to do bad, is an incredibly shaky but important position to be in. And the whole point of Caitlyn's character is how she navigates that--can she use her position to do good? As per GOOD WRITING, she's not going to get it perfect until she learns and grows.

We can acknowledge the moral ambiguity of using the grey, how it does harm, while also acknowledging the WAY it was used and for what purpose was both smart, economical, and GOOD. Doing bad things for good reasons. That's what the use of the grey was.

I'm not going to get into the memorial much, but all I will say for that, is it's an excellent example of people twisting Caitlyn's words and underselling the pain she's going through. If you can't acknowledge the right Caitlyn has to be upset at the people who just violently disrupted a memorial for mourning the loss of loved ones, I don't think you care to have a conversation about the humane treatment of others. And using Caitlyn's anger and grief as a "see?? She hates Zaunites!!" is so fucking stupid I'm not going to entertain an argument for that.

Caitlyn's setback is her trauma, her ignorance, and her heartbreak. She still isn't a fully realized character throughout most of season 2. She's learning and growing and unfortunately that is at the expense of the people she lords over while enforcing martial law. But if we acknowledge that, we also have to acknowledge the ways she changed the system so that needless suffering and punishment didn't happen. Confronting Ambessa when violence is used unlawfully. Improving the prison food and banning the use of the most inhumane cells in Stillwater. Bare minimum? Yes. But still ways she showed that she saw the Zaunites as humans and not as flesh covered problems the way Salo does. Not as problems to get rid of the way Ambessa does.

If the reason for your ire is because Caitlyn is a figure in a corrupt system, then your hatred is misdirected. The point of Caitlyn is to show the ways the system needs to change, and how the people within it who want to do good can often be misguided, but that doesn't mean they aren't good people or that they can't do good within their position.

If you fundamentally disagree with that, there isn't much of an argument to be had, but I will say that your ire is still misdirected.

I never see you guys discuss Salo or Ambessa.

Salo represents true bigotry in the system. It's a position he maintains all the way up to when his mind is commandeered by Viktor and the hexcore. Salo is the type of person who functions on confirmation bias--he already has a prejudiced view of Zaunites, and will use any opportunity to say "see? Told you so! We should put them down." Compared directly to how Caitlyn talks about them, asks Vi to help fix the system, fights against the system going too far, actively makes adjustments to change the way the system treats Zaunites, the claims that Caitlyn is a bigot don't hold up.

Ambessa IS the system. She IS the oppressive force that indiscriminately will take and take and take and sees violence as a tool and not a consequence to be avoided at all costs the way Caitlyn does. And for some fucking reason, no one who criticizes Caitlyn gives any weight to Ambessa's actions, ever. They don't discuss the way she manufactures the attack on the memorial to manipulate public opinion on Zaunites, as well as manipulate Caitlyn. They don't discuss how she sets Caitlyn up to be pressured to take the position of Commander and uses her grief, promises her justice, in order to warm Caitlyn to her and keep her as an ally, a pawn she can use. They don't discuss how she sent Maddie to be a spy, to be in Caitlyn's bed and to be as intimately close to her as possible, to make sure Caitlyn still was behaving the way she needed in order to see her plan through.

When discussing the manipulative, exploitative, and violent nature of oppressive systems, Caitlyn has become the scapegoat, when it is people like Salo and Ambessa who deserve your blame and your ire.

You wonder why people don't take your complaints about Caitlyn seriously? That's why. Because the show gave you very bold examples of oppressive individuals in control of the systems you hate, and you ignore both of them for the sake of hating on a beloved lesbian character, who is beloved because she is flawed and good natured and whose journey we enjoy because it's all about learning what to do when you're within a system that pulls you at every direction to do evil, and you still find a way to do good.

Do some more think pieces on Salo and Ambessa. Then maybe we can have nuanced discussions on Caitlyn.

[sycamorality]

there's something so telling about how the rain world fandom at large sees the ancients as cruel (and sometimes, a suicide cult), when all we get in the canon material is how much they loved the world and savoured the mundane.

as a sidenote — i'll be talking about vanilla. downpour won't matter in this context.

the white pearls are a great example of this — a line of a verse from a poet. the vague imprint of a family portrair (imitating a specific style popular during the era it was made in). a list of someone's 71 lucky numbers. an image of a hand drawn document with beautiful calligraphy of a (in moon's opinion) dull classical poem. what could be someone's alchemical treatise. someone playing recursion games with an image of a pearl in a pearl of a pearl in a pearl and so on. a very faded image of a tall structure with banners unfurled. what might be a recipice or a shopping list of some kind. a repetitive hymn. the mention of big festicals with sky-sails. an image of five bottles standing on a surface possibly made of plants.

not to mention the pearl found in shaded citadel, where one of the memories mentioned is "watching dust suspended in a ray of sun". it's such a small mundanity and yet its mentioned all the same as eating a tasty meal and winning a debate contest and being applauded by team members.

not to mention the various other colored pearls. one with a mantra repeat 5061 times, ending with a termination verse, and the fact that many of these were usually worn together. a small text of spiritual guidance. verses written in old and intricate language. a writing in which the author wishing the recipient's crops and yields be blessed.

and yet we see them as cruel? for what? the fact they wished nothing be stuck in the cycle of life and death? that they wish even the smallest speck of microbe and the tiniest bug be able to leave their struggles behind and ascend?

ascension in itself can easily be read as a grief allegory, whether intentional or not, but much more clearly i think is just meant as acceptance. acceptance that everything is okay and you're okay and you've done everything you've wanted, so you're ready to cut your ties and ascend, because you've finished everything. i think enlightenment is being able to say "living was so fun, i've done everything i've wanted, and i'm ready to move on". all the echoes we meet are there because they're lingering on some part of their life. something they can't leave behind. something that they miss still in the inbetween. they're unable to find true enlightenment even after ascending because they can't accept moving on fully, not yet.

though, one thing of note, is this quote from moon, regarding the bright red pearl found in farm arrays;

There were some horror stories though… That if your ego was big enough, not even the Void Fluid could entirely cross you out, and a faint echo of your pompousness would grandiosely haunt the premises forever.

this implies a lot in one, obviously. but we have to remember: moon is a biased narrator, and these were only horror stories. they could have evolved from parents telling their kids to not have their heads up their own asses because otherwise they won't be able to ascend (because obviously ascension was held in extremely high regard in their religion - much like going to heaven is in christianity! how interesting! we'll circle back to this later), or many other things. if anything, from what we see, this... isn't entirely accurate, the echoes we speak to don't sound like they have a big ego. they're reminiscing on life, and parts of it that they missed and still cling onto.

of course, i can see the argument against 'wanting to ascend everything' — but in the context of rain world's lore? i don't think it's cruel. i think it's offering a helping hand. i think they just didn't want everything to struggle endlessly in the cycle of life, death, and reincarnation. and i think that makes perfect sense.

so..... why does parts of the fandom call them a "suicide cult" or say "ascension = suicide"?

i think it has a lot to do with how a lot of people aren't reading the religion and religious practices as they're meant to be viewed, and are instead viewing them in an overly christianised lens (whether consciously or subconsciously, intentionally or not), where anything that isnt "wanting to go to heaven" is a sin, and therefore bad. historically, many other religious practices have been demonised, and i'm sure this also includes their versions of "going to paradise" (when applicable) being smeared and implied to be something akin to going to hell.

(downpour really didn't help this either. i fear it only made the "ascension is and and also suicide" interpretation more prevelant in some way, but i won't get into that now.)

i get it — rain world's lore does require an ability to leave your religious bias by the door, as well as critical thinking and analysis and a hell of a lot of extrapolation from what we have.... but it feels really offputing how it's become extremely normalised to joke about how they're committing suicide by ascending, and that they're a suicide cult. both suicide and cults are an extremely sensitive and serious topic, both of which have lead to extremely bad situations.... but i digress.

the fact that many people are instantly casting shade and doubt to the ancients and calling them cruel and heartless when under it all they're just people, like us, with unique religious practices, formed by the unique world which they live in. they love the world and they want to help other living beings. they are not trying to kill everything — they simply want it all to move on, to what they may very well view as some sort of equivalent of 'paradise' (although we will never really have full context of their practices and culture, but we can make a lot of guesses).... which, really, isn't that what you'd want, too, if you thought you had a choice in the matter?

[hollowed-theory-hall]

So, Wizarding Robes

I saw this post by @iamnmbr3 and @kittenjammer talking about wizarding fashion and I wanted to talk about this for a while, so I'm going to give my own two cents on it based on fashion history. I love history in general, but fashion history and historical architecture are two I’m incredibly passionate about. So, here we go (post with a lot of pictures ahead):

When I read the books and they mentioned unisex “robes” which function like dresses in a way (as you don’t have to be wearing trousers beneath them:

James whirled about; a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of graying underpants.

(OotP, 647)

And described as being very colorful and billowing, often accompanied by a pointed wizard hat, it was clear to me JKR was trying to invoke the image of the classic fantasy wizard robe:

Especially when it comes to Dumbledore.

The thing is, this style is based on a real historical period and historical styles of the medieval period in Europe.

Medieval Europian Robes

When I'm thinking about the "classic fantasy wizard look" the first historical period that comes to my mind is the 15th century and I'll illustrate why.

Spesificly, the 14th and 15th centuries houppelande. It was a long over garment that looked kinda like a dress with wide, flaring sleeves available for both men and women in various shapes, cuts, and even patterns. Here are examples of some houppelandes:

(As you can also see, early 15th-century fashion comes built-in with silly hats! Just like wizards)

In the 15th century you also have a wide array of cuts of cloaks (and even more silly hats!):

Along with surcoats, that contrary to their name, weren't just for knights to signify on their armor the house they serve:

These 15th-century garments are exactly like wizard fashion is described in the books: billowing robes, colorful and eye-catching, and accompanied by silly hats.

The thing is, all these garments are from the high medieval period and as wizards broke away from muggles only when the Statute of Secrecy was enacted, I'd expect their fashion to follow the muggle trend up to that point and then start diverging. Even the most pure-blooded wizarding families of the modern day, like the Malfoys, integrated with muggle circles up until the Statue of Secrecy, something that would've forced them to dress like the muggles at the time to blend in better.

As the Status of Secrecy was first enacted in 1692, it's time to talk about:

Late 17th Century Fashion

Now, while the high middle ages in Europe had everyone wearing essentially wizard robes and silly hats on the regular, the Statue of Secrecy was enacted much later. Fashion in the 17th century was drastically different from the earlier one mentioned above.

In the late 17th century, this is the kind of dress I'd expect from women in England:

And this is what I'd expect from men:

Which is very different from what is described but would've been the historical basis the wizards would work from.

So what do I think wizarding fashion is actually like?

Well, since the books are in the 1990s and wizards don't really live in a vacuum we know some later influences in fashion did make it in. So, I think wizarding fashion is an odd mix of 15th-century and late 17th-century fashions updated to the time period the wizard grew up in, hence distinct fashion changes between generations like we see in the muggle world.

We see these distinct generational fashion changes with characters like Agusta Longbottom who wears a Vulture hat. These sorts of hats with real birds on them were a thing historically. They were quite fashionable in the late Victorian era, which is when Agusta would've been a child if she's around Dumbledore's age:

Fudge is described as wearing a Bowler Hat, a kind of hat that started catching on in the late 19th century but was still a staple in menswear into the early 20th century, hence indicating Fudge's age.

Ron's yule ball dress robes are described as old-fashioned, again indicating fashions in the wizarding world change at a similar rate to the muggle one. Note that since the 17th century, fashion has been changing quite rapidly and by the 18th century fast fashion where you need to buy new garments each "season" has already started becoming a thing. With all that, I think wizard fashion indeed changes just as rapidly as the muggle one.

Now, that's great, and all, but, what would that odd mish-mash fashion even look like?

Well, I made a few very quick sketches as concept examples for what casual wizarding fashion in the UK might look like if we're working off historical references:

(not my best pieces, it's just to get the concept across)

Note that Wizengamot robes and other formal professional wear would probably be older in style and closer to 17th-century fashions.

[grunckle]

On stars, guardians, and Rain World’s cosmology.

One aspect of Rain World lore that’s asked about quite a lot but normally never gets satisfying answers is the topic or Rain World’s space/universe/cosmology. Despite first impressions though, there’s a lot more it than meets the eye, so I thought I would compile most everything we know about it.

For one, to get it out of the way, Rain World isn’t on a planet, and its universe is fundamentally different from our own. This is something Joar has talked about on occasion.

He also said on an earlier dev log how Rain World functions more like a fantasy world where it doesn’t hold much relevance than a real sci-fi like planet.

“Oh, another thing - Rain World isn't a planet lol Cheesy Or I guess it might probably be on a planet, just as Lord of The Rings, Sex And The City, Zelda and Frankenstein's Monster are probably technically on a planet, but just as in those examples the planet aspect isn't really relevant at all. Rain World is more of a fantasy world or a dream world, not somewhere you can go in a space ship ~”

But even if it’s not incredibly relevant, it’s clear a lot of thought was put into Rain Worlds fictional cosmology, this was even mentioned by James.

So, that being said here's what we know about Rain World's cosmology in game.

The biggest indicator of Rain World's unique cosmology is that the Farm Arrays deep pink pearl just mentions celestial spheres, which are aspects of older cosmological models.

"This one is just plain text. I will read it to you. "On regards of the (by spiritual splendor eternally graced) people of the Congregation of Never Dwindling Righteousness, we Wish to congratulate (o so thankfully) this Facility on its Loyal and Relished services, and to Offer our Hopes and Aspirations that the Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory Cooperation may continue, for as long as the Stars stay fixed on their Celestial Spheres and/or the Cooperation continues to be Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory." ...May Not as long as the Stars stay fixed on their Celestial Spheres Grey Hand, Impure Blood, Inheritable Corruption, Parasites, or malfunction settle in Your establishment."

More subtly, there's also a mention of the ground colliding with the sky.

"If you leave a stone on the ground, and come back some time later, it's covered in dust. This happens everywhere, and over several lifetimes of creatures such as you, the ground slowly builds upwards. So why doesn't the ground collide with the sky? Because far down, under the very very old layers of the earth, the rock is being dissolved or removed. The entity which does this is known as the Void Sea."

You could chalk this line up to flowery language, but considering the presentation of the rest of the dialogue, it sounds more like an actual aspect of this world.

We know from the Chimney Canopy echo that the sun rises.

"From within my vessel of flesh, I would perch upon this spot to observe the rising of the sun."

And from the top of The Wall we can see the moon and stars (confirmed to be stars by Joar in the previous screenshot, instead of satellites or something else) , which are green!

So, what does this all mean? I think we can entail a few things with what they've given us.

For one, the mention of the ground colliding with the sky implies some sort of firmament, which isn't an unusual concept in the general realm of celestial spheres.

But on the topic of celestial spheres, the pearl actually isn't the only place we see the concept. Guardian halos are very similar to depictions of celestial spheres, and also astrological clocks.

You can make of this as you will, perhaps the astrological references being tied to guardians could hint at the nature of karma, but there isn't much to really delve into that idea.

For what it's worth, celestial spheres are also core concepts in Gnosticism, which Rain World is heavily inspired by. I explain it more in this post about Void Worms, but for a quick synopsis in Gnosticism there are seven planetary spheres, and an eighth above them; the planets and stars are fixed to their spheres. These things just further cement the fact that celestial spheres seem to be a key aspect of Rain World's cosmology, and it would also likely imply it's universe follows a geocentric model.

For a bit of a more out-there theory, people have pointed out how the view atop the wall stretches really far, going far beyond what we could see on a spherical planet like Earth, which has led some to theorize that the world is also flat.

But what is probably the most important aspect of Rain World's cosmology is the nature of dust. Dust builds up, and the bedrock of the world is eaten away at by the Void Sea. Civilizations rise and fall into the sea as new ones are built above it. Many, including myself, believe that the world exists in a sort of state of equilibrium. The world is dissolved from the bottom, then that falls back on the world as dust; even in the final moments of the game we see dust suspended in the void sea depths.

And hey, even void worms are described as being star-like.

"Oh, interesting. This is a diary entry of a pre-Iterator era laborer during the construction of the subterranean transit system south of here. In it they describe restless nights filled with disturbing dreams, where millions glowing stars move menacingly in the distance."

Cyclical, recursive, something else entirely? We can never really pin down the true nature of Rain World's cosmology, but the things we do get hint at something strange and unique. It's such an interesting aspect of the lore, and it seems like Videocult will continue to make mysterious cosmologies in their future projects...