#reject hypothesis

[thescoobyscholar]

Like, Wow! The Results (Study)

Followup post to "The History of Zoinks." Includes methods, results, discussion. Page break after the first section.

Methods

This exploratory study will examine how accurately the catchphrases in Scooby-Doo reflect the language of the time. Based on their historical usage, we hypothesize that “jinkies” will be the most commonly occurring phrase, followed by “jeepers,” then “zoinks.”

We sampled the first 25 episodes of Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! These episodes aired from September 13, 1969, to October 31, 1970 and make up the first two seasons of the show. The third and final season would not air until 1978 and had different writers, so it was omitted. Qualitative analysis was conducted in NVivo from episode transcripts obtained online. 

Results

The most used catchphrase was “zoinks,” at 87 occurrences across 25 episodes, averaging 3.48 “zoinks” per episode. Some episodes had no “zoinks”, with a notable 3-episode consecutive gap mid-season 1. Overall, “zoinks” usage trended positive; season 1 averaged 3.12 “zoinks” per episode while season 2 averaged 4.25. “Jeepers” was used once and there were no “jinkies”.

In context, Shaggy used “zoinks” as either an expression of shock on its own or paired with a frightful observation (e.g., “Zoinks! It’s the snow ghost!”). Once, in a witch’s hut, it was used as an adjective: “What zoinky labels… ear of a newt?” The first “jeepers” came from Velma, used more as surprise than fear: “Jeepers! Someone’s going into that old mansion” (season 1, episode 6, “What the Hex Going On?”).

Figure 1. Zoinks Frequency in "Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?"

Discussion

Results not only contradicted the hypothesis, but all expectations founded by the literature. Despite their cultural relevance, we observed only one count of “jeepers” (not counting the season 2 episode 4 title, “Jeepers, It’s the Creeper”) and no “jinkies." The slow climb of “jeepers” may be attributed to the aforementioned “cultural time capsule” concept. It is an unwritten law of media that it must wait to capture popular culture until a few years too late. Usage of “jeepers” skyrocketed between DeBeck’s comic in 1928 and Donahue’s musical rendition in 1939, peaking in 1946 (Harper, “Etymology of jeepers”). However, despite Scooby-Doo’s monumental ratings, “jeepers” did not jump again until the movie Jeepers Creepers came out in 2001. Although “jinkies” did not appear in these two seasons, we know it would experience a great jump in The New Scooby-Doo Movies whenever Velma loses her glasses, growing to become her exclusive catchphrase in A Pup Named Scooby-Doo when she cooks up a clue. In the sampled episodes, Velma seemed to be struggling to find a catchphrase that stuck, floating between “gosh,” “golly,” and similar expressions. Why it took until three years into Scooby’s run for “jinkies” to first appear is uncertain, as both it and “zoinks” share similar histories as interjections of fright (and flight).  One potential explanation could be the face value of the characters on first airing. Shaggy boasted the voice of radio celebrity Casey Kasem. The writers seemed to enjoy letting him show off his odd audio skills, as in Shaggy’s “ventriloquism act” in the episode “What a Night for a Knight” and every variation of the “disguise as barbers to fool the monster into getting a haircut” scene that warranted a funny voice. Kasem was the first to say “zoinks” (and “zoink,” in one instance), but certainly not the last. In these first two seasons, Shaggy had a clear monopoly on catchphrases; the first “jeepers” even came from him.  The catchphrases in Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? do not reflect the vernacular of the time. Rather, they reflect what pumps the lifeblood of Hanna-Barbera cartoons: money (i.e., ratings). To keep the audience hooked, the writers had to put out only the best voicework. Casey Kasem as Shaggy was a bridge between audiences of children enjoying funny voices and adults enjoying a familiar radio personality (and modern folks enjoying a 60’s caricature). He and Scooby embody the spirit of the franchise strongly enough that they have survived through every series that tried to cut out other members of the gang (Scooby-Doo and Scrappy-Doo, The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo) or otherwise split them up (Shaggy & Scooby-Doo Get a Clue!). Despite “zoinks” having no direct predecessors in popular culture, Shaggy quickly spread it with his image as irreplaceable icons of the series across 250 episodes and 45 films. Like with Barney Google’s “heebie-jeebies” and Fred Flintstone’s “Yabba-dabba-doo,” it’s not about the linguistic sense of the catchphrase. It’s about the character who delivers it.

*Excluding Velma (2023) on HBO Max, which featured all of the gang but Scooby-Doo. Shaggy endures.

References

Harper, Douglas. “Etymology of jeepers.” Online Etymology Dictionary, 28 Sept. 2017, www.etymonline.com/word/jeepers.

[abigail-pent]

i am learning that "did you read tlt" is in no way a sufficient condition for straight men to be worthy of my time

[goulloynes]

my quantitative econs professor seeing me calculate 5794 as the standard error for my linear regression

[shadesofmauve]

Just graphic designer with chronic health issues things

OT: "Hold your arms in a Y. No, your Y needs to be narrower."

Me: "What font am I?"

OT: "...what?"

Me: "I need to know what font I'm copying to do my Y right!"

[thebreakfastgenie]

yeah but the idea tht his marriage could fall apart after canon shouldn't be treated as sacrilege or something? like this one blog said something abt that outside of a shipping lens and got bombarded by all these rude anons claiming they were wrong even tho mash only covers right up until the end of the korean war and we technically don't know anything after. it's valid that interpretations are compelling in different degrees to different ppl but none of them are really better or worse than the other, as u said which i appreciate -- thank u for being cool abt ur thoughts

I don't entirely agree with this characterization of events and I don't really want to get into the weeds of that, just stating it for clarity.

I don't think it should be treated as sacrilege per se, but while canon only covers to the end of the war (very deliberately) it also gives us no reason to think BJ's defining thing is going to change dramatically or that a marriage that's been portrayed as nothing but happy won't survive. BJ's storyline is all about how anxious he is to get back to Peg and Erin. Maybe the trauma of the war is too much when they're finally reunited, but the show doesn't give us any reason to even suspect that. To me, BJ getting divorced is the level of departure from canon as, say, Hawkeye getting married. It certainly could happen, and nothing in the show rules it out, but we're given no reason to believe it would. BJ and Peg staying married is the null, I guess.

And look, everyone sees different posts and all that but when I got here in late 2021, there were a hell of a lot of posts taking it as a given that BJ's marriage would fall apart. In this particular fandom space, at least my experiences of it, that's more or less the default. I guess this is just to say I understand why people aren't happy about that take, even outside a shipping context, because this is the environment they're reacting to. I've seen takes that BJ's marriage has to fail so Peg can be his "loss," but he already has a loss: the first two years of his daughter's life.

I find BJ and Peg staying together most compelling but there is a version of them painfully splitting up because they can't get past the war that I find compelling too. I get it. But I don't think it's treated as sacrilege and while I don't want to make it about shipping, I can't ignore it because the reality is most fics feature BJ and Peg splitting up because most fics are hunnihawk fics. The majority of the fandom thinks they could or do split up; all those rude anons were probably from one or two people.

[chronically-enthusiastic]

FEELING THE EUPHORIA FOR MATHS

[frick-yes-dragons]

I have hit the *exact* word count on so many questions for this assessment that it's actually beginning to look suspicious

[grumpyfaceurn]

i guess in retrospect it's a good thing I never got anyone to love me.

Because if rejection from one stupid little crush that was never going to work (what part of still wearing his dead wife's wedding ring don't I understand???) can be this overwhelmingly physically painful I don't know how I would ever survive someone breaking up with me.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you write about the reader being either Ford or stans controversially young spouse? Like they're close to their 20s instead of their 60s

Ooh to be their controversially younger spouse what a dream I wish I could live lmao 🤣

Before you became Ford’s spouse, the man would always use the age gap between you two as the sole reason as to why you shouldn’t be together romantically, he’s sweating bullets and loosing sleep over it because it’s just so glaringly obvious to him that you shouldn’t.

However this was all just a cover up for the fact that he did indeed feel things for you in a romantic sense. You were great with Dipper and Mabel, encouraging their passions and even getting involved in them should they need someone to be dazzle in gems or go out into the woods to look for the supernatural.

You even got along with Stan, which was only an added bonus for Ford but still he kept reminding himself that he was far, far too old for you that he might as well have been old enough to be your father/ grandfather! Wasn’t that enough to disturb you?

He knew some people held a liking towards older people but believed it was more for their wisdom and life experience, not the romantic kind.

Apparently it wasn’t because Ford accidentally over heard a conversation between you and Wendy regarding his age;

Wendy: isn’t he too old for you?

You: negative, I love older men. Especially older men who are smart, a little socially awkward and plays dungeons, dungeons and more dungeons.

Wendy: …respect dude.

Needles to say after hearing that Ford’s face became as red as cherries and his worries regarding how you felt towards the age difference seemed to have dwindled slightly, but still he worried that others would view you as weird for being with a man more then twice your own age.

Sure there wasn’t many…worthy candidates to date in Gravity falls but surely he couldn’t be the only one worth your gaze? Mabel must’ve at least tried to set you up on more then one occasion, but according to her you just never seemed to jell with the people she set you up with, saying that you had a distant look in your eyes as though you could be anyone else then at the date.

When Mabel confronted you about it one day, you told her that you liked men a little older then you, Mabel then asked why but you only ruffled her hair and told her that she might see the vision one day. Ford was now being presented with more proof that you would be more then content with dating him, it was undeniable and he even indirectly heard it from your own mouth, so what else could he possibly be held back by?

Fear and rejection from society if they ever were to see you both in a romantic setting?

Then again you both lived in gravity Falls and there were things far weirder than an 20 year old dating a 60 -pushing 70- year old man. And thus began Ford’s new hypothesis; how to win over a 20 year old’s heart.

After you stated dating, you beating the other ladies and men off with a stick because that sexy silver fox was yours! FINALLY! It was your turn to have a sexy older man in your bed!

Other then that you loved being with Ford as no two days were the same, you could be going out with him to look for supernatural as a date, thankfully surviving when Ford got a little distracted by spouting facts on what was trying to kill you both and ending up sat on the porch of the mystery shack and laughing together afterwards.

Or be in his lab and watching him work while admiring how handsome he looked with greying hair and an aging face, but Ford would see it otherwise and become a little insecure and reserved.

‘Don’t you think it weird?’ He’d ask you one day.

‘About us?’ You didn’t have to hear him respond when you knew that Ford was still a little uncertain with your age difference still after seemingly accepting it. You sigh and walked over to him and sat on his lap, making him blush and his eyes widen as you hold his face between your hands.

‘Ford, sweetie I don’t care about what they think, I’m just glad that I got to be with you after pinning for so long. I understand this is new for you but all I ask is that you trust me,’ you kissed his nose softly, ‘and trust in our relationship, there’s nothing weird about it unless you make it weird.’ You add with a smile as Ford rested his head against you, his hands now resting comfortably on your waist.

‘You’re right my sweet,’ Ford said, ‘I’m just worried that you might find someone close to your age more appealing then some old man.’ You couldn’t help but chuckle as you leant further into him.

‘Who could I ever find more appealing than you mr sixer?’ You asked rhetorically, ‘you’re more than perfect the way you are and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to call you mine, so everyone else can stay jealous for all I care knowing I have the most perfect man ever.’ You add as you kissed his lips this time and smiling when Ford reciprocated it with his sweeter, soft kiss.

You probably have moments where you recall something Ford wouldn’t understand and Ford would reference something that was older than you, it’s funny regardless of how you looked at it.

Ford’s body still has aches and pains despite keeping himself healthier than Stanley and so you would help him during these times and coddle him lovingly, while reminding him that he needed to take it easy on himself once in a while.

Ford apologises for it but you only shut him up and remind him that he has nothing to apologise for.

You didn’t treat each other differently because of your ages, if anything you made Ford feel young again and Ford gifted you advice and made you feel just that little bit smarter, which boosted your confidence in yourself. It was a beautiful relationship that was pure and sweet it could give anyone cavities.

Stanley didn’t give a shit you were dating his brother, he knew you liked men above a certain age when you kept eye fucking Ford whenever he walked past you, or how Ford would look at you longingly when you weren’t looking . He saw this shit coming from a mile away as it wasn’t exactly subtle on either end and may have made a bet with Wendy about how soon you’d come to him to announce you were dating his brother.

Stanley won the bet much to Wendy’s dismay.

You saw Ford shirtless once and went apeshit much to his surprise because weren’t people your age into six packs and hairless upper bodies?

Nope, not you, you loved his tummy and body hair that you clung to his side and spent the afternoon kissing his scars and embarrassing tattoos he kept covered in turtlenecks while whispering reassurance that reminded him that you were attraction to him was more then surface level. Ford would return the favour when you had episodes of insecurity would remains you of such by comparing your every insecurity to something beautiful.

Acne? Constellations/ clusters of stars

Stretch marks? Lighting strikes

You’ve got a tummy and thick thighs? Didn’t you know that they(thick thighs) saved lives?!

Needless to say that you came out with a newfound love for yourself afterwards.

You constantly held his hand and kissed each finger to show that you didn’t care about anything but him and his wellbeing, it warmed Ford’s heart as he found to love himself a little more with your help, and in doing so he was able to show you love by kissing your cheek in greeting or making you breakfast in bed or draping his coat over your shoulders when he saw that you were cold.

It was sweet and innocent but still it was enough to have you smiling and feel loved, which is all Ford ever wanted you to feel while with him.

Ford’s love was chivalrous, stubborn and awkward, but you wouldn’t want it any other way as you wanted Ford just the way he was and thrived when you saw his eyes gleam with excitement as he makes a discovery, leading him to grasp your face and kiss you on the lips while holding you close to his chest as he explained what he had done; all the while you stared at him with awe and love because he was really attractive when he was talking about things he was passionate about.

Ford would then catch himself and apologise for rambling but you would kiss him on the cheek and ask him to continue, to which Ford happily obliged, now aware that you were staring at him as though he had hung the stars in the sky.

Ford would find himself looking at you in a similar fashion when you were going on about what you and Mabel did in town, and Ford couldn’t help but hone in on your smile, shining eyes and hand gestures that told him that you enjoyed the hijinks that had happened while wearing the sweater that Mabel made you the entire time.

You’d catch him staring intently at you and suddenly you’re flustered and playing with the sleeves of your bright and vibrant sweater. ‘It’s kinda corny isn’t it?’ You’d ask as Ford chuckles, reaching out to hold your hand reassuringly in his.

‘No, not at all my sweet, I in fact find your adventures with my niece and nephew endearing and sweet. So please continue to tell me how you drop kicked a gnome into Mabel’s leaf blower.’ Ford said and within seconds you were back to being bright and talkative about your adventures of fighting off gnomes, barf fairies and pulling Mabel away from fae traps.

You both were each others listeners and would remember anything and everything said because you actually liked to hear where the other got up to when apart from one another.

Bonus; you definitely have a spot in his journal where he goes in depth of your relationship before ending it with: ‘they’re someone I don’t think I could envision a future without, for they make me young again while loving me regardless of our differences in age and much more. Thank you for loving me y/n, even when I don’t think it’s deserved.’

[balteredsworld]

wilson’s hypothesis. gregory house

🥼🩺 | according to wilson, house likes you and you like him. so, house confronts you with wilson’s hyposthesis.

masterlist: greg house n all

warnings/tags! fluff of sorts, angst if you squint, talks of self-sabotage, idiots in love, sherlocked reference!!! (just watched 8x18—house self-sabotages so bad my lord)

author's note: lowkey hate this but it's idk what're we thinking fellow ducklings???

"wilson thinks i like you," house airs.

you throw him a strange glance.

"crazy, right?"

"yeah? and you think i like cameron," you mimic, matching his dismissive detachment to comedic effect.

only, house is serious.

“no, wilson thinks i like you.” house ignores your joke, repeating wilson’s solemn hypothesis.

when you pause to look at his face, your mind goes off into complete nonsense like's just tipped you over and left you with internal bleeding in your brain, upon the realization that he does, in fact, mean those words he's telling you.

"what makes him say that?"

"i'm apparently connecting with you,” house indulges, relaxing into the cold bit of wall behind him. the moonlight hits him in a more subtle way, half hidden in the shadows. the blue of his wrinkled shirt melts into the glow it radiates.

you're not particularly sure what to say. thankfully, he elaborates.

“you share your food with me, i take your food, ergo it means something in wilson's romantic world,” house offers, before quickly dismissing the thought of his supposed feelings for you. "but you know wilson, he's always been a romantic. thinks he can diagnose emotions as easily as diseases."

you consider the argument, "well couldn't that just mean i can't finish my food and you don't wanna get your own?"

he squints at you, as if with drills for eyes. you're playing dumb, unless you really believe that. but you don't.

you clear your throat, "well, do you believe that?"

"well it's either that or i must obviously like you."

you gawk. "well, do you?"

"do i have to spell it out for you?"

"wilson had to," you snark back. "so, do you?"

"no," he says with a flat face.

something in your chest drops, just as your brows shoot up. "no?"

"no," he reaffirms.

you don't know if you manage to catch your frown. house doesn't say anything if you didn't. you're more than a little embarrassed, surely flushed. you're thankful that the two of you are under the dim veil of night.

"well good thing," you grumble.

house looks at you with a curious look, as if he was almost offended you would say that. "good thing?"

“we’re both lonely. lonely means self-sabotage,” you explain, fiddling with one of the main trinkets that line the ledge. you were sure you proving your point, coming up with an off-putting rationale to cover up your embarrassment. "two self-saboteurs, well, that's an equation with proven unresolved issues... so yeah, good thing."

you were internally cringing at the words you were spitting out, but you were trying to play it cool. it's something that's never worked in your favour though when you were near an attractive guy, and you always swore this was to make them repulse the inkling of interest. and you swore off doing this years ago, but the blunt rejection, if you could call it that, sprung the teenager out of you.

then again, house affects you like that. blue eyes and blue shirt and all.

he makes it no secret that he's a ladies' man, often hitching hookers into the hospital despite cuddy's gentle parenting to make him stop. but house does whatever he wants in the hospital, hence all the lawsuits you've had to deal with.

when you look at him again, he's somehow uncharacteristically quiet. you're unsure if his speculative eyes are because of a lightbulb moment, but one thing's for sure: he was thinking.

"you're thinking, aren't you?" you glean in a tilt.

house doesn't say anything, but turns away from you. when he does, you're unsure if you see his lip curl in disappointment—he hides it too well. some part of you hopes, but you know you're not his type. a bit too much like him in the overanalyzing and overthinking.

and maybe you're convincing yourself, but realistically speaking, your happy arrangement of sharing food in the middle of a hospital shift may work for lonely and misery, but not for anything else. two people who like self-sabotage is like a dumpster fire.

you'd rather have house like this, happy and alarmingly blue.

"aaand you've stopped listening. i shall take that as my cue to leave," you announce, hopping off the ledge in the same ginger fashion you had waltzing in.

when you land your feet, house airs his deduction, nodding along as if he was finally making sense of you and wilson’s hypothesis. 

“maybe he’s onto something.”

you turn to him with a tinge of a worrisome brow. 

“who knows? maybe i’ve been sending subtle signals that even i’m not aware of. so what do you think?” he croons his head, all ominous, arriving to a conclusion. you can practically see the cogs turn in his brain. “you like me.”

"i never said that.”

house looks at you, rising in a smooth motion, as if to showcase his towering height, forcing you to look up at him. sitting down, he's not so large, but now, all you can think is that he's tall.

"you might not, but your body does," he croons, dangerous smirk playing about his face. his eyes probe your face, confidently with a proven theory. "pupils dilated..."

house grabs your wrist, eyes practically lighting up in delight at his impending diagnosis.

"…and pulse elevated. i understand that wilson thinks that love's a mystery to me, but the chemistry's incredibly simple," he says, softening his grip on you.

house doesn't let go, lingering in this proximity, leaning closer like some ghost and spirit you'll always look for. your breath hitches, but house doesn't afford you time to quite think, capturing your lips in a kiss that you reciprocate, clutching onto his arms for balance.

you feel one of his hand snake to the nook of your back, pushing you flush against him. house keeps his other hand cupping your cheek and jaw, large enough to cover that expanse of your face. it's a little dry and rough, but you don't mind, all too preoccupied with his lips.

house makes good work on you. his lips are even better than you'd imagine, but you finally register his words and what you were doing, so you pull away. the furrow of your brows returning, apprehensive about his next words.

you whisper, “i thought you didn't like me.”

"i was lying," he shrugs. "i needed to see if i was right, and i was."

"so you figured me out?"

"you like me,” house concludes, triumphant. “i was right.”

“i thought this was wilson’s hypothesis?” you cock a brow.

“hypothesis,” he nods before flicking your head. “but i can’t give him the credit for my diagnosis.”

you let out an airy laugh, relieved that he didn't make you spell it out for him. "you're an ass, you know?"

his eyes are proudly heralding trumpets. you could practically hear the victory going off them.

"it comes with the sitting arrangement."

[twilightcitysky]

Hypothesis: Aziraphale HATES that Crowley is living in his car.

Supporting evidence:

The very first thing we see him do in the present is stop Maggie from moving out and making sure she feels welcome to stay as long as she likes.

He clearly knows Crowley’s unhappy before anything happens in the plot: “Does it calm you down?”. And also clearly feels helpless about it. Enter the conspicuous Eccles cakes: Aziraphale’s offer, which is rejected.

Crowley’s obviously, for all his hedging, spending a lot of time at the bookshop— so much that he has his own glasses perch and feels immediately comfortable removing them. See also: “Technically my bookshop but we both get plenty of use out of it”, “Why don’t you wait inside? You like waiting inside”.

It’s Crowley who immediately shoves the box of plants into Aziraphale’s arms after Aziraphale returns from Scotland.

Speaking of Scotland, why wouldn’t Aziraphale take the train? Why insist on driving the Bentley? Is it perhaps because he wants to get Crowley and his plants into the shop, and thinks if he creates a situation where Crowley has to stay there, maybe he won’t immediately leave again?

He’s got an empty bedroom and an apparently pathological need to make the person staying there very comfortable, creating cute little customized souvenirs like he’s an Air B&B host (displacement!).

He immediately jumps to having Gabriel stay with him— he didn’t have to. Arguably, both Gabriel and Aziraphale would be safer if Gabe stayed elsewhere.

That’s what I’ve got for now but I’m sure there’s more. Throughout the show, watch what Aziraphale gives to others and does for others, and it’ll tell you what he wants to do for Crowley. He’s living so deeply in displacement in makes him come across as manic and brittle.

(What probably happened is Aziraphale offered the spare bedroom and Crowley, who unconsciously didn’t want to be his roommate or sleep in a single bed with Aziraphale right downstairs because how could the poor lovesick boy cope with that, told him he wasn’t a “good deed” for Aziraphale to do and stormed off.)

Conclusion: Aziraphale asked Crowley to stay at his place, immediately and probably repeatedly. They had a row about it, and Crowley refused, and to this day Aziraphale doesn’t understand why.

And it hurts him.

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — it's getting harder to hold off on bakugou or based on this excerpt

࿄ ! warnings - corruption? fingering. nsfw. / note. this was very highly anticpated lol :} ty guys! minors& blank blogs dni.

you’ve never really enjoyed sex. while that’s not really taboo to say as a woman (considering the vast & massive orgasm gap) you think you might as well give up at this point.

most guys that you’ve met are selfish and egotistical, in nature and in sexual prospects. they overrate their sexual experience, licking at a nipple slightly before plunging into your walls without a care for any telltale signs of arousal. was sex supposed to be painful and dry? either way, you were not interested in trying to disprove that hypothesis anymore. swearing to abstinence made more sense than try to fuck your way through a dry spell. nuh uh. never again.

when you start dating katsuki, you realise you can’t hold off on not doing the deed any longer. your boyfriend is an attractive, adonis of a man and the sexual tension is through the high angled roof of his penthouse whenever you come over to his place.

however it becomes every time, every single time, in which you deny his advances, push away at the brush of his pouty lips against your jaw, wriggling away from his fingers dipping into the waistband of your pants, cutting off every passionate kiss with a pull of your teeth despite the damp spot that grows on your cotton panties. katsuki paid no mind to it at the beginning of your relationship; chalking it up to jitters and shyness.

but it gets to when you’re both in his bed together and it’s currently the furthest base you both have gotten to in regards to sexual endeavours. katsuki’s tongue delves deeper into your mouth and he uses an arm to wrap a leg around his waist. it’s only then when the gravity of the situation hits you. you panic and katsuki can feel you stiffening up.

katsuki pulls apart from the kiss and the hurt of the constant rejections is apparent through the furrow of his gold blond brows and the slight, dejected frown stretched across his lips.

“i get it,” katsuki huffs, breaking apart from your hold to get up and leave.

you panic again, and this time your heart sinks at the thought of katsuki leaving because of your constant shot downs and you sit up to pull him back down but the man is fast and he’s practically hulk so you decide on running in front of him to stop him.

you know you should’ve explained this to him before to prevent all of this stupid confusion but it’s embarrassing; the idea that you’ve never gotten off through sex even though you’re the furthest thing from a virgin. and even if you told him this half baked story, what would change? would he be any different from the others?

looking up at the red irises that bore into you so deeply and expectantly, you sigh. you finally tell him why you’ve been so avoidant to his advances with an indignant, worried wave of your hands, “it’s not you, it’s me”, and ,“i’ve never orgasmed through penetrative stimulation.”

katsuki raises a brow and you have to cover your face to hide the blooming pink spreading across your face when you tell him that “sex has just never been enjoyable for me… ‘m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

much to your surprise, you feel two hands pull at your waist before pulling your hands down off your face and the blond above you is smirking, so deliciously that your thighs subconsciously rub against it each other to prevent the ache that’s growing between them.

it’s also how you found yourself sat opposite his bedroom mirror, leaning against his bed with spread legs and with your back pressed against katsuki’s bare chest and your hands resting on his muscled forearms. all of your clothes are somewhere strewn across his bedroom - honestly, you can’t even care to remember, with the way your boyfriend has two fingers angled and dipped inside your dripping cunt.

it’s so noisy and so wet, and you should be flustered by it but with every squelch of his fingers dragging along the walls of your pussy, he brushes against that soft, cakey spot inside you and you’re already spasming. is this the third? the fourth? you don’t know how many times you’ve creamed all over his thick fingers and you can’t bring yourself to even look at the mess you’re definitely making.

but you can hear, no, feel how turned on katsuki is behind you. to think he’s the first man to ever make you feel this good, to make you orgasm so many times that you’re delirious with pleasure? he was going to ruin you so that whenever you were out and about without him, you’d think of him pressing his thumb languidly against your clit while he added another finger to stretch you out, to barrage an attack against the gooey spot inside your cunt until you couldn’t take it anymore.

katsuki drags his thumb off your clit to pinch at your nipple and to grab softly at your jaw so that you could see what he was doing to you in the mirror. the constant ministrations already have you hurtling towards another climax, if the erratic movements and heady gush of your cunt had anything to tell him.

“jus’ like that, princess,” he coos, “how about one more f’me? then i’ll give you my cock. how’s that sound, pretty girl?”

your bleary, wet eyes blink up at him and you weakly nod, as if you’re in a trance and katsuki chuckles, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before moving his fingers again.

he really was going to be the death of you.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © moominsuki. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[locusfandomtime]

Doing the maths: Grian's failure at getting a mending book

lots of talk about maths and probabilities below the cut! but there's a graph and simple explanation at the end if you want to get the gist of it and are bad at maths.

(I am still young and learning maths, critique/advice always welcomed)

What are the odds of getting a mending book in Minecraft?

(I am assuming Grian has been doing all his fishing with Luck of the Sea 3)

The probability of a mending book is actually a bit annoying to estimate. The Minecraft Wiki lists fishing up an enchanted book as 1.9% chance. This is for ANY enchanted book. The Minecraft wiki talks about how the chance of an enchantment being selected is calculated. Mending has a weight of 2. Using the table, mending has a probability of 2/135.

However, Grian is looking for any book with mending, not just a pure mending book. Additional enchantments are calculated in a different way, involving RNG, which means it won't be as easy to model. Due to this reason, I'll just be using the odds for a pure mending book throughout.

TLDR: a mending book has a 0.028..% chance (2/135*0.019*100)

Grian's Data

According to this screenshot, Grian has used a fishing rod 5679 times. This number may not be fully accurate, as it includes the times he's fished other players, rather than just fished for items, but it is a good estimate.

To help visualise this data, with a median waiting time between catches of 17.5 seconds, Grian has spent over 20 hours fishing so far! He may have a problem.

Is this statistically significant?

Hypothesis testing (p-value approach):

H0: p = 19/67500 (the null hypothesis - he has no mending books because of chance)

H1: p < 19/67500 (the alternate hypothesis - he has no mending books due to different odds)

5679 trials, 0 mending books

X ~ B(5679, 19/67500) (binomial distribution, 5679 tries with a probability of a mending book being 19/67500, where X is the number of mending books)

p(X=0) (what is the probability the number of mending books being 0)

p = 0.2021473392

Now, the point at which data becomes significant is subjective. For instance, you *could* get a million heads in a row flipping a coin, it's not impossible, but at a certain point, you can begin to say "okay there's something not normal about this". For this approach, the closer the p-value is to 0, the more evidence there is against the null hypothesis . The p-value here is far above a significance level of 0.01, or 0.05, or 0.1. There isn't a clear line between significant/non-significant, but this is answer is quite a bit far from 0

With this, I cannot reject the null hypothesis.

Personal conclusion: this is not statistically significant, Grian is just unlucky.

Are other values statistically significant?

Gem's proposed 9000: results in a p-value of 0.079... more significant than Grian's number but I don't imagine Mojang would be too concerned. As said though, it's all subjective.

I am bad at maths, what does all this mean?

Here is a graph, showing what number of mending books you might have after 5679 tries. The height of the bar represents the probability of getting that amount. The numbers at the top are the (rounded) numbers I used in my calculation

The pink column is 0 mending books - like what Grian has! As you can see, it is less likely than getting 1 or 2 books, but not too uncommon to happen.

End conclusion: Grian has bad luck. Like, not as hilariously bad as he thinks, but still bad. If he keeps going, chances are he will get a mending book, but I think he should probably stop fishing because at this point he has a problem.

[transmutationisms]

from a non-academic, i find parts of comphet to be useful (heterosexuality becomes compulsory when you’re raised in a heterosexual society) but the foundations . suck. what do we do with theories like this, that have touched on a truth but also carry a lot of garbage? can we separate the truth from the founder?

i have to be slightly pedantic and say that i don't think rich's essay is an example of this phenomenon. my central issue with her formulation is its bioessentialist assumptions about human sex and therefore also sexuality. if i say "capitalism includes economic mechanisms that enforce heterosexual behaviour and exclude other possibilities", then what i mean by "heterosexual" is plainly not the same as what rich means—and for this reason i would seldom formulate the statement this way, without clarifying that i am talking about the enforcement of heterosexuality as a part of the creation and defence of sex/gender categories themselves. so rich and i do not actually agree on the very fundamental premises of this paper! rich was not the first or only person to point out that economic mechanisms as well as resultant social norms enforce heterosexual pairings; i actually don't even think the essay does a very clear job of interrogating the relationship between labour, economy, and the creation of sex/gender; she means something different and essentialist to what i mean by sex and sexuality; and i think her proposed responses to the phenomenon she identifies as 'compulsory heterosexuality' are uninteresting because they mainly propose psychological answers to a problem arising from conditions of political economy. so, in regards to this specific paper, i am actually totally comfortable just saying that it's not a useful formulation, and i don't feel a need to rescue elements of it.

in general, i do know what you're talking about, and i think there's a false dichotomy here: as though we must either discard an idea entirely if it has elements we dislike, or we accept it on the condition that we can plausibly claim these elements and their author are irrelevant. these are not comprehensive options. instead, i would posit that every theory, hypothesis, or idea is laden with context, including values held and assumptions made by their progenitors. the point is not to find a mythical 'objective' truth unburdened by human bias or mistakes; this is impossible. instead, i think we need to take seriously the elements of an idea that we object to. why are they there? what sorts of assumptions or arguments motivate them, and are those actually separable from whatever we like in the idea? if so, can we be clear about which aspects of the theory are still useful or applicable, and where it is that the objectionable elements arise? and if we can identify these points, then what might we propose instead? this is all much more useful, imo, than either waiting for a perfect morally unimpeachable theory or trying to 'accept' a theory without grappling with its origins (political, social, intellectual).

a recent example that you might find interesting as a kind of case study is j lorand matory's book the fetish revisited, which argues that the 'fetish' concept in freud's and marx's work drew from their respective understandings of afro-atlantic gods. in other words, when marx said capitalists "fetishise" commodities or freud spoke about sexual "fetishism", they were each claiming that viewing an object as agentive, meaning-laden in itself (ie, devoid of the context of human meaning-making as a social and political activity) was comparable to 'primitive' and delusory religious practices.

matory's point here isn't that we should reject marx's entire contribution to political economy because he was racist, nor is it that we can somehow accept parts of what marx said by just excising any racist bits. rather, matory asks us to grapple seriously with the role that marx's anthropologically inflected racism plays in his ideas, and what limitations it imposes on them. why is it that marx could identify the commodity as being discursively abstracted and 'fetishised', but did not apply this understanding to other ideas and objects in a consistent way? and how is his understanding of this process of 'fetishisation' shaped by his beliefs about afro-atlantic peoples, and their 'intelligence' or civilisational achievements in comparison to northwestern europeans'? by this critique matory is able to nuance the fetish concept, and to argue that marx's formulation of it was both reductive and inconsistently applied (analogously to how freud viewed only some sexuality as 'fetishistic'). it is true in some sense that capital and the commodity are reified and abstracted in a manner comparable to the creation of a metaphysical entity, but what we get from matory is both a better, more nuanced understanding of this process of meaning-making (incl. a challenge to the racist idea of afro-atlantic gods as simply a result of inferior intelligence or cultural development), and the critical point that if this is fetishism, then we must understand a lot more human discourse and activity as hinging on fetishisation.

the answer of what we do with the shitty or poorly formulated parts of a theory won't always be the same, obviously; this is a dialogue we probably need to have (and then have again) every time we evaluate an idea or theory. but i hope this gives you some jumping-off points to consider, and an idea of what it might look like to grapple with ideas as things inherently shaped by people—and our biases and assumptions and failings—without assuming that means we can or should just discard them any time those failings show through. the point is not to waste time trying to find something objective, but to understand the subjective in its context and with its strengths and limitations, and then to decide from there what use we can or should make of it.

[shizunitis]

(lounging on the therapist’s couch) Things first changed for me when I realised Luo Binghe was just a shy boy with a crush who’d tripped and fallen into the 2012 Wattpad Harry Styles Edward Cullen Bad Boy costume and now has to perform that role for the sake of his reputation. Let’s take, say, the proposal—the poor man was so afraid his father-teacher-mommy would reject him! He was shaking and trembling on the floor like a ratty dog begging for a morsel of food, just a crumb of Shizussy. I guess I get it, you know, since Shizun is intimidating in his endless beauty, grace and wisdom, and gathering the courage to offer marriage to him while looking up and into those all-knowing, bewitching eyes is a gargantuan task that very few could withstand the pressure of. I honestly admire Binghe for not just melting into the floor, truly. And let’s not forget Madam Meiyin’s second appearance, which just confirms my hypothesis that he’s still that wide-eyed 17 year old with just a bit of a possesive streak, of course caused by the unspeakable trauma that— Hey. Why aren’t you writing this down?

[actual-changeling]

See, but there's something about the first fight in episode 1 that just doesn't really. fit. It very much feels like we are missing information here.

I have been thinking about this show all day, as one does, but in particular why Crowley gets angry enough to shoot literal lightning at a nearby building. We have experienced him upset before, but never to that specific degree, and their disagreement over Gabriel just does not explain it for me.

My hypothesis: a big, important fight happened right before season 2 picks up that left Crowley feeling rejected and Aziraphale neglected.

The biggest clue is the snippet of conversation about myself vs. ourselves.

"I thought we had carved it out for ourselves"

He almost sounds offended when he says that, yet Crowley reacts with equal parts hurt and anger, like he is referencing something that we, the viewer, do not have any knowledge of.

"So did I"

However, Aziraphale seems to understand whatever Crowley is referring to and does not respond with anything in return. Yet whatever wound they just opened keeps bleeding, and when Aziraphale tells him, packaged nicely, to fuck off, Crowley seems more sad than upset to me.

The to go? is almost said softly and with an initial confusion that hides a LOT of unspoken pain. Plus the HAND MOTION? The gesturing between the two of them while saying "oh, so this is how you wanna do this?" - call me insane, but to me that very much sounds like "oh so this is how you want to break up?"

The funny part is, if Aziraphale had simply shut up after saying "I want you to help me take care of him", I can GUARANTEE YOU that Crowley would have begrudgingly agreed. But he doesn't. He keeps going and this is the first moment this season where he is genuinely and truly bitchy.

"But if you won't, you won't" with the demonstrative sit-down and turning away from him, eyes forward. It pokes at whatever wound is still open and bleeding between them. Aziraphale wants Crowley to jump over his shadow and come help him, ignoring his boundaries. Meanwhile Crowley feels fundamentally misunderstood and rejected and wants Aziraphale to SHOW that he cares about Crowley more than he cares about fucking Gabriel of all people.

That he cares about them more than about heaven.

And now we have finally reached Crowley's breaking-point. he is so deeply hurt by what Aziraphale just said and did, choosing heaven over them, that the pain turns into anger because he has no other way of expressing or feeling it in the first place.

You're on your own with this one.

That last look is filled with such disappointed heartbreak, he turns around simply to give Aziraphale a chance to ask him to stay, to apologize, something. Yet again, he does not. He doesn't even meet his gaze, he is looking away.

To me, he seems almost spiteful, like this entire argument is only superficially about Gabriel but about something entirely else deeper down.

Which - that's the point, isn't it?

Crowley comes back and apologizes because Aziraphale matters more to him than stupid arguments or choosing sides, keeping him safe is the only thing he cares about when it comes down to it. He swallows down his hurt and betrayal and does what Aziraphale wants: ignoring the entire argument and pretending nothing ever happened so they can continue like before.

Only that they can't. The entire season shows just how much they cannot go back to their arrangement, no matter how hard Crowley tries to mold himself to Aziraphale's will. Their final argument simply reflects all of that and more. The same wound that first one was about gets reopened very violently and they're bleeding all over each other with no way to stop it because they're too fucking stubborn to admit that it exists in the first place.

Aziraphale and Crowley can only fix their relationship when they acknowledge the reason the rift between them opened up. Until then, Crowley feels truly rejected and Aziraphale feels entirely neglected, and there is nothing anyone can do to make them confront that.