#Japan broadcasting corporation
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椎名もも (本名:岩﨑果歩)
生年月日:1997年08月06日
出身地:東京都
慶応大学 文学部 社会学科卒
現NHKアナウンサー (anchorworman)
#椎名もも#momo shina#shiina momo#岩﨑果歩#グラビアアイドル#グラドル#水着グラビア#水着女子#コスプレ#japanese idol#gravure idol#bikini model#ビキニ水着#nhk#アナウンサー#anchorworman#announcer#Kaho Iwasaki#dark past#elite#leading university#慶応大学#ジュニアアイドル#水着姿#ビキニ女子#cosplay#Japan broadcasting corporation#nationai broadcasting#skeleton in the closet#グラビア画像
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First warnings arrive of the Tohoku tsunami, following its associated earthquake
Coverage by NHK
2:51 PM JST (0551Z) 2011/03/11
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Dance Party, 1973, Tadanori Yokoo
This poster advertises the Asahi Broadcasting Corporation (ABC)’s television drama Dance Party, a period piece set during the Meiji era (1868–1912) and adapted from the mystery novel Meiji Enlightenment Ango Detective Story by Sakaguchi AngoText provided by Poster House.
Photograph: The Merrill C Berman Collection
#tadanori yokoo#artist#art#illustrator#the merrill c berman collection#japan#poster#asahi broadcasting corporation#television drama dance party#mystery novel meiji enlightenment ango detective story#sakaguchi ano text#poster house
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◯異口同音
Meaning: Say the same thing
#2024#japan#english#japanese#america#wordpress#clara bow#taylor swift#station 19#american broadcasting company#sony corporation#daytime#daytime emmy awards#television#nomination#kanji#4 character idiom#漢字#四字熟語
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water’s edge | 01
₊˚.༄ pairing: crown prince!gojo satoru x f!reader | setting: modern royal au
₊˚.༄ summary: in a world where titles define their fates, gojo satoru, the crown prince of japan, and his wife-to-be, face a tempestuous court of deception and schadenfreude. as they waltz on the edge of ruin, can their love endure the treacherous waters that threaten to pull them apart, or will the whims of the enigmatic chrysanthemum throne prove strong enough to drown them both?
₊˚.༄ author’s note: thank you so much to @angstbot2000, my awesome beta-reader for sitting through this 9.07k word count monstrosity of a first chapter! and with that, here we go~!
₊˚.༄ masterlist
He was every bit the worldly man portrayed to be by the media and that alone is enough to terrify you, even as you sit about a full foot apart from him, feeling the pinprick of his ice-cold demeanor pierce your skin like a thousand needles.
“Your Highness, how have we never heard of your relationship with Ms. (Y/N) before unlike your previous ones?”, a correspondent from the NHK Broadcasting Corporation asks from the crowd of reporters, surprisingly at their most civil and dignified behavior before their future emperor and empress, literal gods in mortal form, embodiment of unadulterated divinity on earth in Japan’s distinct imperial past, one much different from today’s democratic and liberal political climate.
Gojo’s eye twitches at that.
It was a simple question, but it struck a nerve in him, angering him more than you ever could by merely existing. Though it was a valid inquiry, all of Satoru’s relationships have always been well-documented by the media, save for one. His supposed relationship with you.
You move to clutch his hand in an attempt to calm him down, having sensed his discomfort, but he only shrugs his hand away before you could even come within a quarter of an inch of touching him.
“My apologies, your Highness,” the reporter apologizes quickly when Satoru doesn’t answer right away, turning to the woman in charge of the press conference, situated by the podium displaying the seal of the imperial family. “Sorry, may I rephrase that?”
She turns to look at the prince, subtly asking for his permission. With a slight nod of his head, Satoru doles out his merciful forgiveness towards the reporter, keenly aware that it would only take him a second to have his staff contact the NHK Broadcasting Company and have them fire him before he could even return to the office.
“Thank you,” he bows gratefully. “Rephrasing my earlier question, would your Highness mind if you share a few words about how you and Ms. (Y/N) met?”
Satoru Gojo is a man who goes by many identities, as attested by tabloids and reputable newspapers alike; they agree on the fact that Satoru Gojo is a womanizer, a card shark, and the harbinger of disaster to the imperial family. He never sleeps with the same woman more than once, oftentimes leaving a poor naive girl entangled in a mess of sheets even before the morning sun filters through the motel’s bedroom windows. The crown prince isn’t entirely heartless though, he is quite known to leave a generous sum of money tucked neatly in a small envelope as a “thank you” gift to all the women he’s been with.
Not that it dulls the sting of humiliation, of course, it still hurts like hell to be treated as an expendable commodity that’s only good for a one night stand.
Funny how that grotesque description is starting to sound like you.
Another rumor about Satoru Gojo is that he’s a reckless card shark; one who goes to fine hotels during after-hours when the bar and lounge is reworked into a gambling den for the ultra rich and wealthy, closed to the unsuspecting plebeians, only frequented by those whose morals fall within the scope of gray and obsidian black. The young prince has been rumored to religiously go to these kinds of establishments to play high stakes poker games more often than he ever visits the family shrine where his ancestors are entombed in an uneasy eternal rest. The poor Emperor Meiji must be rolling in his grave seeing the imperial family’s impending doom at the hands of his great great grandson whose only real ambition in life is to waste it on the vulgar things that high society hedonistically craves.
One last thing to keep in mind about your fiancé is that he is a consummate actor, having honed the talent of keeping up appearances since his first public appearance as a child of only seven years old, alongside his mother and father during the opening ceremony of the Winter Olympics which Tokyo had been selected to host earlier that year.
He squeezes your hand, despite rejecting the compassionate gesture earlier, and looks deep into your eyes with false fondness, fully aware that he was imagining the face of another in place of yours.
His nails bitterly dig into your skin as the cameras go off, capturing the tender moment between the two of you. To anyone outside the circle which you and Satoru unwillingly find each other entrapped in, the two of you were the quintessential picture-perfect couple, gazing at one another as if the world the two of you had found yourselves in would spiral out of its orbit had one of you dared to look away, The tabloids have even begun to call your unexpected engagement a modern-day fairytale unfolding before everyone’s eyes.
But that was just it, this entire arrangement — you and Satoru Gojo were nothing more than unwilling participants in a fabricated Cinderella story.
“Well, we met informally a few times before, during the national shamisen competition held in Kyoto two years ago and the awarding ceremony of our very own national artists where she received the title of ‘national treasure’ earlier last year–”
The many reporters scribble this information down on their bullet journals or tablets, hoping to piece together the exact timeline of this relationship. It is rather peculiar for the crown prince to suddenly reveal he is getting married, and to some mystery woman at that — not that the press was unfamiliar with you,with most of them being very much aware of your identity as a renowned traditional Japanese instrumentalist, but what eludes them is the manner in which you found yourself suddenly romantically involved with Prince Satoru Gojo of all people, whose affairs are heavily publicized by the media. The grotesque manner in which it is publicized is a different story.
“But we first met formally during His Majesty the Emperor’s silver jubilee. His Majesty is a benefactor to the Japan Arts Council and is a patron to many music conservatories in the country, and as such, is very interested in the fine arts. It just so happened that Ms. (Y/N) had been invited to play for us on the night of the Royal Gala.”
That was typical; the prince first meets the princess in a ball, looking upon her absolutely enthralled as she enters the ballroom, captivated like he was under some form of trance. His eyes would stay glued to her as she danced along to the crescendo of the string quartet, the hem of her gown fluttering about her form like a gentle stream of star-fall as she twirled gracefully under the bright chandelier lights. His lips would be parted, dazedly wondering who the girl could be and if they were ever fated to meet again.
But alas, one has to remind themselves that the age of dreaming of such hopelessly romantic nonsense, especially at twenty-three, is long over.
FLASHBACK: His Majesty’s Silver Jubilee Gala
The Chrysanthemum Throne should have died the day the envoys of the late Emperor Shōwa, Foreign Minister Mamora Shigemitsu and General Yoshijiro Umezu, ascended the gangway of the USS Missouri to sign the unconditional surrender of the Japanese Empire to the allied forces that laid waste to the Japanese islands. With the allied powers marching onwards to the capital city of Tokyo, having left nothing in their wake but the ashes of an empire that had been brought to its knees by the fires of merciless destruction that rained from countless air raids, the narrative should have moved towards the abolishment of the entire imperial system and the immediate execution of the emperor. But in a bid to refashion the emperor as a symbol of continuity for Japan, General Douglas Macarthur’s decision to not hold Emperor Shōwa accountable for the war crimes committed in his name during the height of World War II allowed the last remnant of Japan’s imperial past to survive. Save for the removal of the emperor’s political power, the oldest monarchy in the world was left relatively unharmed.
Still, despite the fact that the imperial system had been effectively humbled after the war, this was not so evident as you walked through the imposing halls of the imperial palace.The Kita-Damari north lobby you passed through earlier gave an impression of uncontested refinement; the entire floor had been constructed from the most exquisite granite from Yamaguchi prefecture, and the walls embellished with cedar wood that can only be found in Kumamoto prefecture. If the lobby was meant to portray elegance, then, the Houmei-den State Banquet Hall exuded an air of absolute power that could make anyone tremble in the face of such magnificence; you could recognize the tapestry work of the legendary artist Gakuryo Nakamura as the main decoration piece for the walls, and even more rare stones and wood from Japan’s many prefectures serving as the foundation of the gargantuan hall.
It was half past nine when you accidentally locked eyes with the crown prince that night. This entire time, you’ve envisioned the imperial family as images on your phone screen. You didn’t think for one second that they could be real and that Satoru Gojo, the crown prince of your nation, despite all the disturbing rumors surrounding him these past few years, would be so ethereally beautiful, like he had been fashioned from pure celestial moonlight.
You avert your gaze immediately upon catching yourself staring at him, knowing you weren’t supposed to as part of royal protocol which you’d been thoroughly briefed on the moment you received the invitation to perform for the imperial family. You uneasily remove yourself from the hall in search of the lavatory to touch up your makeup when you come face-to-face with the empress who also excused herself from the festivities to get some air.
She doesn’t notice you at first as she continues to take a drag from her cigarette, staring blankly at the koi fish that swam about the courtyard garden’s pond. From afar, she looked to be an ordinary woman, not the untouchable monarch you thought she was alongside the rest of her family, her ivory hair was neatly pulled back into a tight bun, several crystal hair pieces dotting her silky locks. You quietly made your way towards the powder room, your pace slowing down as you inch closer to the empress not really knowing what to do.
Should you let her be while she’s having a moment to herself or do you intrude on the hallowed ground of her presence as protocol dictates with a low curtsy?
“Your Royal Highness,” you greet her, in a soft voice, stopping to curtsy as you pass by and she kindly hums in acknowledgement.
“Ms. (Y/N),” she turns to face you, discarding her half-finished cigarette in the jade ashtray. “Forgive me for smoking in front of you, do you mind?”
Secondhand smoke.
From that statement alone, though brief as it is, sheds light into the empress’s character as being empathetic, and compassionate. You shake your head, subconsciously playing with your clutch bag. “Thank you.” She reaches into her clutch bag again to pull out her pack, slotting a cigarette between her lips. “How are you enjoying the banquet so far? I hope it is to your liking.”
“I don’t think what I say should really matter. After all, I’m only a guest.” Your meek character causes the empress to let out the tiniest of laughs. A smile plays at your lips seeing her face morph into a soft chortle, her earlier troubles seemingly leaving her mind for a bit as she speaks with you. “But, in all seriousness, your Highness, I think the banquet is going well. Most of the other guests seem to feel the same way.”
The empress nods, relieved. “That’s good to hear, by the way, I hope your performance goes well,” she says. “His Majesty and I have been looking forward to it all evening.”
A blush paints your cheeks. As the only guest artist who will be playing a traditional Japanese instrument, the tsugaru shamisen, you were the odd one out among the other distinguished national artists who will be playing Western instruments such as the piano, the harp or the violin and many others. “That means a lot to me, your Highness, thank you,” you bow forty-five degrees.
“Well,” the empress says warmly, wrapping up the surprisingly refreshing conversation. “I wouldn’t want to keep you now, I’ll see you back inside,” she picks up her pearl-embellished clutch bag, and re-arranges her diamond tiara before excusing herself. As she makes her way back inside the reception hall to rejoin her family, she thinks back to the girl she just serendipitously met with a small smile on her face. Ms. (Y/N), she thinks to herself, recalling your name with a certain lightness in her heart.
Just then, her son, Satoru walks up to her, righting his lapel and the medal of the Supreme Order of the Chrysanthemum pinned to the left breast-pocket of his full royal uniform. “Mother,” he greets her formally, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. Gojo’s face falls when he sees his mother’s watchful eyes anxiously scouring the room for a particular person. “Mother, what is it?” he asks, concerned at her expression. Suddenly, his mother stiffens when she finds the exact person she is looking for, obvious displeasure painting her features.
Satoru tries to calm his mother down, his voice as soft as a feather’s touch, “Mother…” he trails off.
“You brought her here?” the empress whispers harshly, almost in disbelief that her son would be so insolent enough to do such a thing — by ‘such a thing’, she meant unscrupulously bringing along his Machiavellian Chief-of-Staff, Himiko Zenin, who seemed to relish in the attention being gallantly given to her by the many foreign heads of state in the banquet hall.
“And what is she wearing?”
Her face contorts into one of annoyance when she sees Himiko parading around the unmistakable Akoya pearl necklace only to be worn by members of the imperial family on her neck. The empress is not one to use unsavory words even for someone she dislikes with every fiber of her being, but she could not help but liken Himiko to a bitch brandishing a new expensive collar. She swears the sight alone is enough to make her vomit. “Is she a member of the imperial family now, Satoru, what on earth—!”
“She’s not hurting anybody,” Satoru’s eyes narrowed into slits at his mother’s reaction.
“She’s hurting you!” the empress hisses, begging her son to see reason. Satoru has been made well-aware of the fact that keeping Himiko around was not good for his public image, yet, he still insists on fanning the flames that could sooner devour his pipe dream of inheriting his father’s crown.
Satoru glares at his mother, before proceeding to spare his radiant Chief-of-Staff an amused glance, a sense of pride forming in his chest seeing her alluring charm at work as she mingles effortlessly with his father’s guests. He often argues that Himiko is the blueprint of the perfect future consort — she comes from the Zenin political clan that has made Tokyo its political stronghold since the 1970s, she is intelligent in all ways from being fluent in many languages to knowing the law from inside out, charming and charismatic, and most of all, easy on the eyes. A smirk forms on Gojo’s lips when he sees Himiko sharing a laugh with the wife of the Russian ambassador as if to prove his point.
“Let’s just go,” he ignores her pleas, gently pulling his distraught mother away to take their seats next to his father, nonchalantly condoning Himiko’s brazen-faced behavior.
As long as he was around, no one could harm her, not even the empress.
“Acknowledging the representative correspondent from Nippon News Network, Mr. Nozomi. You may ask your question now,” the floor adjutant says into the microphone.
“Thank you,” Nozomi stands up, momentarily adjusting his press ID. He flips through his leatherbound notebook in search of the query he hastily wrote earlier. “This question is directed to Ms. (Y/N).” A spiteful quiet scoff escapes Satoru’s lips, sending waves of hurt in your chest. What could you possibly contribute to this already awkward conversation? And what did you even know about the imperial system’s traditions?
“Ms. (Y/N), I’d like to know your thoughts on marrying into the imperial family at this delicate time. As you probably know, many of our citizens are questioning the relevance of the imperial system now that our country has embraced democratic values over pro-imperialist ones, thus, leading to the formation of staunch anti-royalists groups. Do you believe that your marriage to Prince Satoru would bring about a positive change to Japan’s current political landscape?”
Your thoughts stutter. “Political…landscape?” you think aloud, and Satoru only smiles/smirks in cold amusement, taking a sip of his sparkling water and eyeing you from his peripheral, seeing you pathetically struggle to conjure up a coherent answer. You haven’t exactly gotten to learn about your duties yet as Gojo’s future wife and a future princess, and he was eager to see how you’ll worm your way out of this one. Of course you neither understood the intricacies of the world you were marrying into nor the unknown minefield you dared tread; most women who throw themselves at Gojo’s feet, kissing the soles of his shoes deplorably begging them to marry him, are like that — naive, unintelligent — he looks at your plain features again and rolls his eyes severely disappointed — and criminally boring to look at in comparison to the standard he has set.
“My apologies, Mr. Nozomi,” a soft smile graces Satoru’s lips when he hears her melodious voice cutting through the awkward tension in the air as you wrack your head for an answer. “But, it seems you’ve caught Ms. (Y/N) off guard there. Perhaps, you have another question that’s a bit…easier to understand? We are, after all, here to bear witness to an engagement, not a political fora.”
Himiko steps forward from her spot next to the member of the Imperial Household Agency who was facilitating this press conference, her dainty hands clasped in front of her in an immaculately proper posture befitting the crown prince’s Chief-of-Staff and his rightful future wife, or so Gojo thought. How he wished it had been her who sat next to him today, with the diamond encrusted engagement ring he reluctantly gave you adorning her ring finger instead. Gojo’s intrusive thoughts swarm in his mind as they tempt him to kiss her in front of all these cameras and single handedly destroy his engagement to you in a single, gut-wrenching blow. But he is quick to stop himself when he remembers his mother’s words earlier this morning.
“This is your last chance, Satoru. This is the last thing I can do to save you, please don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
At any point in time, he would have succumbed to his desire to expose his relationship with his beloved Chief-of-Staff, but this was a pivotal moment that could spell the end for him and his ambitions if he does so much as make a single move that could anger his father. And what’s worse was he might not be able to guarantee Himiko’s safety if that happens. Satoru, therefore, resigns himself to continue holding your hand, albeit reluctantly, his fingers finding the gaps of yours.
The reporter nods at Himiko’s backhanded request.
“My apologies, then,” he ratifies his question to make it more suitable for someone of your caliber. You couldn’t help but shrink into yourself, feeling that you are being patronized by everyone in this room — from your frigid fiancé to his Chief-of-Staff who was severely outclasses you in eloquence, refinement and sophistication and to all the members of the press that had been invited today whose reception to your engagement to the crown prince has been lukewarm at best. “My question then is—“
“—I am sorry for taking too long to answer your question, Mr. Nozomi.” Satoru’s eyes flicker over to yours, taken aback when you speak up. “I, unfortunately, am not yet that familiar with the current situation concerning these said groups, and,” you bite your lip, thinking of what to say next. “I don’t think I’m qualified enough to give an objective opinion on whether my marriage to his Highness will bring about a positive change to our nation.”
Gojo grimly scowls as he watches you make amends with your forthcoming destiny as his future wife, and heaven willing, empress of the nation.
“And I cannot promise that I will lead this country to greatness. I cannot grant laws to uphold and promote justice, I most certainly cannot lead our defense forces to defend our nation, but…”
You think back to why you came here in the first place, your heart pounds violently in your chest as adrenaline rushes through your entire body.
“But I can do this: I can dedicate my entire life to making this country a better place for our people, though, I still do not quite know the way. But I will most certainly do my utmost to try.”
FLASHBACK: His Majesty’s Silver Jubilee Gala
You don’t know how they do it — standing in front of a multitude of people under the glare of the limelight, about a thousand pairs of eyes trained on you as if at that moment, you stood at the very center of the world without cracking. This was the life they were born into, a life that overflowed with the contrasting worlds of luxury and duty, power and powerlessness, indulgence and deprivation. The women of the imperial family were dressed in the most luxurious of gowns with hundreds of precious stones sewn onto the fabric, and the men wore their dignified navy uniforms. All of the people in the hall have gathered far and wide to bring good tidings to the emperor and his family, bringing gifts of jewels, national treasures, and promises of a stronger alliance with Japan. Yet, something felt off about them — their faces, although trained and poised to smile, were pictures of discomfort.
The white-haired prince you had locked eyes with earlier, the one who watched you intently throughout your performance as you skillfully struck the strings of your shamisen with the bachi producing a sound that resonates deep within the primal past of Japan, stared at you with an unreadable expression as he clapped his hands. You offer him the smallest of smiles to be polite just like you did with the empress earlier when you found her smoking outside the banquet hall, but he does not reciprocate the gesture, his eyes devoid of any warmth unlike his mother. Standing before the crowd of many world leaders and the imperial family, you bow reverently before your public, your shamisen strapped to your body, while your calloused fingers gripped the bachi of the instrument.
The crowd thundered with applause, most of the foreign dignitaries rising to their feet, giving you a standing ovation as you finished your piece. You bow again when the applause continues for another minute or so.
Satoru grimaces when he hears his father whisper to his mother. “Isn’t she amazing?” he marvels at your performance, showering you with more praise for that brief number than he ever gave his son for the majority of his life.
The empress senses Satoru’s growing ire, and nudges her son’s arm, consoling him despite their earlier disagreement about bringing Himiko to the gala. Satoru doesn’t know what to feel. Despite all his shortcomings and his active efforts to build an impenetrable steel wall between them, his mother still does everything in her power to meet him halfway. As his hand reaches to find his mother’s, however, he spots Himiko exiting the hall, stopping mid-way to stare at him with her irresistible fox-like eyes, tempting him to follow her like a siren beckoning an unfortunate sailor to surrender to the abyssal depths.
“Satoru,” his mother says under her breath, holding onto the belief that her son could muster up the willpower to resist Himiko’s whims. The emperor was about to give his courtesy address, and having the crown prince walk out at this moment would be severely inappropriate, not to mention, damaging to his already bad reputation. “Satoru, please.”
His father ascends the steps, each stride evoking a deep sadness and longing in Satoru. Somehow, the crown prince hones in on the clicking of his father’s shoes against the granite floor, the same ones he’d have to fill someday when his father grows weary of their ancestors’ throne. The speech is pretty uneventful with his father going on and on about preserving the peace and harmony of his reign, his so-called Reiwa era, and vowing to continue his public service, which he had begun as a young man in the august of his own father’s reign, until the twilight of his days.
Harmony, Gojo thinks bitterly, a sneer appearing on his face. What did his old man know of such a word when all he’s done, so far, is sow the seeds of discord in his family?
“On that note, I’d like to express my deepest gratitude to all of you, our dear guests and to my fellow fathers and mothers of your own respective nations, who have so kindly come here today to renew our vows of selfless service to our peoples. May we all be imbued with endless wisdom in our pursuit of the greater good.”
The cameras go off like little flashes of lightning spontaneously piercing the dark, moody space of the reception hall.
What a fucking joke, Satoru scoffs into his champagne, the golden liquid staining his throat and holding back words of contempt towards his father. What did his father know of being a father when he had spent his entire life tearing apart his own family in the name of the throne? What did he know of harmony when he had done nothing but sow discord in the imperial house?
The emperor gives a slight nod of acknowledgement to the gracious applause he receives, and promptly makes his way over to his family who are in the process of arranging themselves for an official picture in front of the late Emperor Taisho’s magnum opus, his calligraphy painting that read: 永遠の恵み (Eternal grace) which is the imperial family’s personal motto and central dogma, to commemorate this momentous occasion. Satoru stands next to his father, his breath shallow as if being anywhere near his father could suffocate him.
“I see you’re still acting like the petulant child you are,” his father spat having already spotted Satoru��s little plaything in the crowd earlier tonight, despite the well-rehearsed smile on his face as the official photographer snaps photos in quick succession.
The tongue that Gojo has been holding finally breaks free from the dam that’s been holding the waters of resentment from bursting forth. “And I see you’re still an ass.” Hopefully, the photographers couldn’t hear their tense conversation lest it be the cause of another scandal;, the rumor mill didn’t need any more ammunition for yet another mudslinging campaign against the imperial family.
Oh, but wouldn’t it be interesting if Satoru made a scene to ruin his father’s special day by lewdly kissing his Chief-of-Staff for the entire world to see?
As if sensing her forbidden lover’s thoughts, Himiko saunters over to the official photographer, putting on the air of a devoted servant of the crown prince, ever present within ten feet from her master, when just minutes prior, she acted like she could replace the empress herself.
“You insolent—“ his father grits his teeth at the sight of Satoru’s tramp, absolutely furious.
“Please stop,” the empress spoke under her breath, close to tears. Why is it that whenever their family is together, which is a rare occasion in itself, it always ends in such painful conflict?
“If only we had another son-” the emperor continued his tirade against his only living son, the only legitimate child that he had been blessed with after years of trying to produce an heir with his wife. But there was not a scintilla of anger in his voice; that had long passed when the empress had effectively quelled the fury in his heart with her broken plea, instead there is only longing for things that cannot be.“-if only…Suguru had been our boy, our prince-”
And just like that, something breaks inside Satoru akin to a glass goblet imploding when it hits the floor. It was almost as if his father wished that he had never been born.
…”Fuck this,” the white-haired prince moves to leave, but his mother’s delicate touch catches his arm.
“Satoru, my little light.”
Satoru’s breath hitches in his throat when his mother calls him by his old childhood nickname. Little light. That’s what they wanted him to be since the moment his cerulean eyes first opened as a baby who has been unwillingly burdened with the weight of centuries of tradition on him the minute he was conceived. His name had already been predetermined to mean ‘enlightenment’; everyone wanted him to be a light for the nation, a hope for the people. The imperial family may have been reduced to mere powerless symbols of the constitution, but they are the embodiment of their people’s hopes and dreams for a better Japan. It took twenty years for the emperor and empress to be blessed with their little light, but now, it seems that everything is growing disorientingly dimmer at such an accelerated pace.
But the empress will not just stand by and watch the light get extinguished. “Please don’t do this, we need you.”
Of course he always craved to be beloved by the people, to become their bonafide and benevolent prince. It had always been his dream to inherit his father’s crown, to fill the impossibly large shoes of his ancestors. But, what is truly his dream or was this a dream unjustly forced onto him?
The wind howls more violently and the final flicker of the imperial family’s light loses the battle, as the candle that had first been set alight by their forebears is now reduced to a pool of wax. Satoru’s eyebrows furrow, utterly spent from all of this, and yanks back his arm from his mother’s grasp.
“You need your prince…but when will you ever need your son?”
And with that, he leaves, his free hand ripping off the Medal of the Order of the Chrysanthemum once he is a good distance away from the gala’s venue. Himiko stays behind for a few minutes to make sure that she isn’t giving off the impression of being so eager to follow the prince and condone his tantrum. Instead, she stares directly at the empress, emerald and sapphire clashing violently with one another, as she wordlessly celebrates her victory.
Mr. Nozomi, though known by his colleagues to be a no-nonsense kind of man, seems satisfied with your answer. It lacked some academic background, but it was a statement that was sure to bring comfort to the people. “Thank you, Ms. (Y/N). This is comforting to know,” the stout man with graying hair offers you a reassuring smile. It had been so long since many people, particularly and most especially in his age group, had ever had the honor of seeing such a warm-hearted future monarch whose words could almost easily calm others, and he dare say, even the violent Sea of Japan whose fury has long been felt in his freezing hometown of Hokkaido since time immemorial.
Satoru forces a smile at that, literally grinning and bearing it — by ‘it’, he meant your little display to outshine him, your future husband, the Crown.
“Any more questions?” the imperial house’s official speaker calls out as the room is filled with the sound of pen tips scratching on paper as the members of the press write down notes. This was going to be the wedding of the century, and they’d be damned if they couldn’t make a good story out of it. “None?”
“Actually, I have one.” Himiko gives the microphone to the correspondent from The Tokyo Times, the most reputable newspaper in the country. “I hope that this question doesn’t offend His Royal Highness, but if you may indulge me for a bit, don't you think the timing of this wedding is too sudden? I mean,” she clears her throat momentarily. “His Highness had only recently been allowed to appear before the public after he got arrested the other week, and now, he’s getting married.”
Just when you thought that the brutal questions would start to mellow out, one of the more hardened reporters all but crushes your remaining hope of this press conference ending on a good note.
All color drains from your face at that question. It was, indeed, warranted. If you had seen all this unfold before your very eyes, during your time as a commoner, the whole marriage would appear rushed, not to mention, fishy especially after the many Lesé-Majesté that had victimized the imperial family lately due to Gojo’s recent and very frequent scandals.
You look at your fiancé, heart pounding in your chest. What were you supposed to say to that? It’s not like you could be downright blunt about the whole reason why you’re getting married in the first place, that would only paint your soon-to-be husband’s family in a worse light; right now, people only challenge the relevance of the imperial family in a free democracy like Japan, you really don’t want to reach that point of no return when they start to despise the very notion of paying taxes to an institution that they feel is morally ambiguous.
Not to mention, such sentiment could put you and your fiancé in danger.
Satoru takes a deep breath through his nose, desperately calming himself before he says anything damning. How he wished he could have this petulant woman dragged out of there for such an offensive question but that would only prove her point.
Fortunately, Satoru is well-prepared for this, no matter how irritating his current predicament is. Having to be reminded of the greatest source of his humiliation is infuriating, but it could also provide him with the perfect opportunity to rewrite his public image and regain his footing in the act of succession currently being drafted by His Majesty, the Emperor.
All of a sudden, he rises to his full height, his hand not letting go of the sleeve of your white wool coat as he does. He casts you a disgusted look, seeing the expensive fabric hug your form; how is it even possible that you were wearing a high class outfit and still look like a cheap imitation of all the women he’s been with? He couldn’t begin to compare you to Himiko whose fashion sense and overall aura outshined yours; it would be like comparing rust to the Hope Diamond.
“Satoru, what are you doing?”
“Just follow my lead and drop that stupidly lost face you make all the time,” he hisses into your ear. “Now, stand up,” he commands, pretending to help you to your feet like the head-over-heels-in-love fiancé he’s meant to be and not the stone cold man whose last name will be the heaviest burden you’ll have to carry for the rest of your life. Well, by your life, you meant the snake pit that you now found yourself in with a fiancé who wishes you to fade from the fabric of existence and the prying eyes of the world keenly watching the drama that is yours and Satoru’s impending marriage.
Satoru smooths out any wrinkles on your dress before turning to the cameras. Gasps fill the room at what he does next. “Y-your Highness?” a journalist puts a hand over her mouth at the sight of the crown prince’s display of humble contrition: a bow, a plea for the forgiveness of his people. Following his lead, you also bow, your palms pressed against your thighs.
“I am sorry,” his tenor rings clear like the ringing of a shinto shrine’s suzu when a pilgrim first sets foot on the hallowed grounds of the temple. “As your prince, I understand that I have failed my family, His Imperial Majesty, the emperor, and Her Royal Highness, the empress. I have, in my recklessness, failed my ancestors, and the throne itself. But most of all, I, through my reckless actions, have failed each and every one of you who are probably watching this.”
Sincerity oozes out from each word, and you wonder, does Gojo actually mean any of this? Or was this another one of his well-rehearsed theatrics? And if this, his first public apology for all the atrocious things he’s done, is all conjured from the distorted playwright that is Prince Satoru Gojo, then, you could only pray that he takes pity on you and does not make an actress out of you.
FLASHBACK: The Imperial Palace of Tokyo (An hour after His Majesty’s Silver Jubilee Gala)
Satoru painfully eyes his mother who earlier tonight had cruelly given him the false hope that she would always advocate for him only to avert her gaze, screwing her eyes shut as if by doing so — all of this — all the undue hurt that her son had caused the family would magically go away. “Mother.” Is she even qualified to still be called that when she has proved tonight that she would abandon her son in his time of need without a moment’s hesitation?
What his father says next is so hypocritical that it makes even hardened criminals look more honest and self-aware than him. “Don’t use that tone on her, don’t even dare.”
Satoru scoffs angrily, he can’t believe this. “I didn’t know you’ve recently decided to be a devoted husband now,” he snarls but his father doesn’t budge, he was not going to entertain his foolish son’s tantrums today. The emperor only pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily, desperately seeking out the reason he has been dealt the unfortunate hand of having such a heathenous son.
“I don’t even know what to say.” What can be said when face to face with such a vile predicament? Normally, his disagreements with Satoru would be tempered by his wife’s intervention, pleading with him to spare the heir to the throne of unforgiving punishments that brewed within a wrathful father’s mind; the last time was Satoru’s humiliating suspension from his public duties and the instance before that, a severe cut in his monthly salary as a public official funded personally by the people he blatantly betrays in his acts of wanton avarice. The difference between those times and this unfortunate situation is that in the past, one could still detect some semblance of remorse in Satoru’s demeanor.
All that is gone now. If one were to compare Satoru to a criminal, he is already a hardened one, desensitized to his wrongdoings.
The steel handcuffs which hugged the skin of Satoru’s wrists prove that, at this point in time, the heir to throne’s character was in serious jeopardy. “Your Majesty, you can reprimand your son however you’d like, but, please do not have him chained up like some animal.” She knows such a request is wrong. Like a dog released from a painful muzzle, Satoru would only grow more rabid with his actions. In the past, he was fueled by a desire for attention, now, after this night, he would be fueled by spite.
Other than the imperial family, three police officers who came from the Kabukichō district where Satoru had been reported to be physically assaulting a fellow gambler when a high stakes poker game had turned in favor of his opponent are in the room, witnessing all this happen with bated breath. It took at least five officers to pry Satoru off the bloodied middle aged man who had a foot in his grave by the time the crown prince was done obliterating his face, and another five to escort him into the police mobile.
All of this transpired on the night of the silver jubilee gala. Mere hours after Satoru took off.
A horrified silence had befallen the entire banquet hall when the news broke out, immediately going viral on every social media platform.
The emperor contemplates his wife’s words for but a passing moment when he decides otherwise, turning to the men in blue, his voice is authoritative and could make any devil tremble in their boots. “Thank you for reprimanding my son,” he sighs. “I can assure you that—“
The Tokyo metropolitan police officers alongside the imperial police await the decision of the emperor, but have already begun to pull out the keys to Satoru’s handcuffs thinking that His Majesty would have him released.
“—All charges pressed against Satoru Gojo will proceed accordingly and—“
And for once in his life, Satoru feels the unmistakable emotion — terror. “—What?” Satoru is livid at this point. “Father!”
He merely ignores Satoru, his eyes trained at the shocked faces of the many officers whose feet are still planted to the ground.
“—And that I will be allowing all concerned members of all law enforcement units who responded tonight to take him into custody until the date of his full criminal trial should any take place. As such, I now declare Satoru Gojo’s claim to the throne as null and void, and his title of crown prince forfeited in favor of his brother, Suguru Geto—“
It was at this time that Himiko once again barges in just as Satoru is being led away, surprisingly, she was now wearing her usual uniform of a black suit and pencil skirt. She immediately throws herself at the feet of the emperor. Where was the bravado she so proudly displayed at the jubilee gala by indirectly confronting the empress? Gone. Where were the pearls she had practically worn without authorization of the people who were permitted to wear them? Now replaced with her fake 12-karat gold necklace that she wore since childhood. “Your Majesty,” she kneels before him like her pleas would reach the emperor’s stony heart. “Please don’t do this—“
The emperor and empress angrily turn towards her, their eyes ablaze. What was she doing here? “I have half a mind to have you arrested too, Ms. Zenin!” the emperor growls. Himiko was there at the scene of the crime, after all, and having her arrested would greatly destabilize the hold she possessed on the imperial family through her illicit affair with the crown prince. “Now, drop it!” the emperor yells at the sputtering girl. “I have allowed you to lead my son astray for too long and now it is time for me, his father, to discipline him, unless, of course…you’re willing to take his punishment for him.”
“Yes,” Himiko nods frantically. “Please do whatever you want with me, I-I will gladly accept it all.”
“No!” Satoru resists against the officers, as the imperial guards begin to restrain Himiko who makes a pained sound when she, too, is given handcuffs of her own. “Don’t hurt her! Please don’t hurt her!” It was the plea of a being in love, seeing his lover take all his father’s bullets. “Father! I’m begging you—!”
“—And how long have you made the empress and I beg for you to straighten out your life?!”
“—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Satoru was exhibiting signs of mental distress at this point, his eyes brimming with tears like he were a child who had been told he was grounded. “Your Majesty,” he reverts to calling his father by his official title. “Please…please. Just let her go.”
How incredibly touching: two sworn lovers protecting one another to the bitter end, selflessly taking the fall for the other, shielding their beloved from any danger that might befall them. Only problem is…this toxic partnership between a prince whose life’s purpose is to stupidly follow his heart with gross disregard for those around him and a woman whose negative influence is demolishing her beloved’s reputation.
While the country is reeling from an economic recession, here Satoru and Himiko were indulging in yacht trips, while the impoverished scrounge for food in Tokyo’s many landfills, the crown prince and his girlfriend attended lavish state banquets left and right, while the homeless sleep under a resin-roofed bus stop at the height of winter, Satoru gifts countless of properties to Himiko as if one home couldn’t possibly be enough for the woman he so desperately loves.
“Satoru,” Himiko sniffles as she is slowly taken away, defiantly calling him by his name rather than his official title in front of Their Majesties. As if by doing so, that would help hers and Satoru’s case.
Gojo shakes his head furiously, his eyes welling up with tears. “Mother, please don’t do this.”
If this was going to be the end of them, then, Satoru hoped that his family would, at least, allow Himiko to return to being a private citizen, to walk away from all of this a free woman, free to live out the rest of her life away from the schadenfreude of the imperial court. Even if it meant never having to see her again, feel her warm touch against his skin the same way the sun bathes the earth in its resplendent glow, kiss her with the passion of someone who could have been a devoted husband to her had they been born in different circumstances, he will do anything. He would count the very stars in the sky if he could, die a thousand deaths if he must, if it meant allowing Himiko to be spared the pain of being branded as a criminal and placed behind bars.
“I’ll do anything, please just don’t hurt the woman I love.”
If only Satoru put more effort into earning the love of his people the same way he’s now willing to humbly bow his head to cossett the love of his life. Akiko Gojo gasps quietly when her prideful son falls to his knees in supplication. Suddenly, she is filled with memories of a younger Satoru who was once chastised by his courtiers for tripping on his own feet while he frolicked and played in the palace gardens, and how she didn’t think twice to comfortingly lift him into her arms while his retainer had been so content leaving him on the ground, his scraped knee ailing him as he struggled to stand up.
The empress’s feet seemed to have been possessed by a mind of their own, as she took one step forward, her sorrowful eyes trained on her crying son. “Satoru,” she gently crouches down next to him. “Oh, my little light,” she calls him by his childhood nickname. “Please don’t cry,” she weeps as she wipes his tears away with her thumbs. She shouldn’t be doing this, knowing that Satoru would only take advantage of the knowledge that she’s always going to be there for him regardless of what he does and what monster he becomes.
But seeing her child, her only boy, in the thralls of desolation is too much for her frail heart. So, she makes the choice for him, standing firm before her husband who has always taken the lead in their marriage. “Your Majesty, I beg you to not make a criminal out of Satoru, and reconsider restoring him to the succession. Please have mercy on your son.” His only legitimate heir. If Suguru were to inherit the throne, it would only throw their family into more chaos, and with the events of tonight, the imperial house could benefit from letting Satoru’s recent mishap die quietly. It would be disastrous for everyone if, on the anniversary of his father’s coronation, Satoru were to be unceremoniously thrown out of the palace.
“Akiko,” the emperor involuntarily utters his wife’s name, surprised at her sudden decision to stand up for their degenerate son.
From the moment the 2.3 pound Meiji tiara first touched her head, she relinquished all sense of self to the crown — her surname, her childish desires to lead a normal life, her civilian antics, everything — but now, here she stood before him, not as Empress Akiko but the liberal-minded woman that the emperor fell in love with as a young man. She may have given up everything to forge herself anew as empress of the country, but there is one thing that she has kept under lock and key so that the crown may never hope to steal it from her: her unconditional love for her son.
“Your Majesty,” she glances at Satoru’s kneeling form, her heart clenching in her chest. I’m sorry, my little light, she silently apologizes to her son, the last thing she wants is to seek the impossible from him, but if this was the only way that his future will be secured, then, she’ll just have to be the awful mother that Gojo thinks her to be. “I have a proposition for you.”
A journalist looks up from his laptop, dumbfounded at what he’s witnessing. “…No way,” he says under his breath. It wasn’t everyday you see a monarch bow before his people begging to be pardoned, but then again, no other monarch in the world is more problematic than Satoru Gojo.
Satoru clutches the fabric of his slacks, his knuckles turning white as he does so. This was so humiliating for him, having to apologize to mere nobodies whose existence wouldn’t even make it to the footnotes of history books to be written a hundred years from now. “I know my words mean nothing after everything I’ve done and the people I hurt, but still, I am sorry,” Satoru utters the apology again as if by saying it a second time, it would hasten his godforsaken sentence that is to be locked in a vile marriage with you.
He’s made it clear earlier by his gestures that he wants nothing to do with you, but perhaps that was only because you hardly know one another, you don’t exactly run in the same circle as him, you don’t have the slightest connection to any political dynasty — not by affiliation, and most certainly not by blood — nor were you some heiress to some long standing conglomerate that the imperial family is closely acquainted with. Perhaps it was just that. All of this animosity stems from the disturbing fact that you couldn’t even call yourself friends now here you were betrothed to one another announcing your engagement to the world.
But, something doesn’t feel right.
Shouldn’t awkwardness between you and Satoru be the worst thing that could come from this shotgun arrangement? You understand that this situation is uncomfortable for him as much as it is terrifying for you but is this truly enough to warrant his hatred? It’s not like you actively volunteered for the part, after all, yet he acts as if you had been the prime instigator of this marriage. You find yourself caught between wanting to keep him at arms’ length to advocate for tense but peaceful silence in your marriage and wanting to become his true and altruistic wife to get to know him better but at the expense of your emotional well-being knowing that he’ll probably hurl new insults at you.
At this point, the former seems to be the safest option, but there is something so deeply intriguing and captivating in Satoru that you ignore all the warning signs altogether.
Satoru ends the press conference by re-announcing the date of the wedding which will take place next week. You follow him out of the hall, meekly walking three steps behind him. Suddenly, he stops in his tracks, burying his hands in his pocket, adopting a more casual posture. You expect him to berate you for some unknown faux pas you’ve committed during the press conference but instead, you are met with something else. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
He turns around to face you, he doesn’t look angry, but he doesn’t look too invested in the conversation either. He just seemed indifferent. His eyes dart around the expanse of the corridor, someone could be listening in to this conversation — the palace has eyes and ears everywhere after all — he needs to temper his tongue lest he angers the emperor or the empress, despite every nerve in his body tempting him to spew more vitriol at you.
Waving a dismissive hand, you shake your head, instantly forgiving him earlier. “No, I must have overstepped my boundaries, I understand and I’m sorry.”
Gojo sighs heavily, offering you a small nod. “Let’s just forget about it,” he says. “It’s getting late,” he notes the time on his watch. “You should probably head home to rest.” That was…surprisingly kind of him.
“A-actually,” you unconsciously play with your engagement ring. “I wanted to ask if you were free tonight so we could…have dinner together.” The empress encouraged the both of you to get to know each other, after all. “I know it must be difficult being engaged to me when you don’t even know me.”
Satoru lets out a weak laugh. He wasn’t at all interested in getting to know you, frankly, he couldn’t give two shits, but it was amusing for him to see how delusional you are.
“I see,” he notes in a business-like manner. “Well, perhaps another time since I have an urgent appointment tonight and I’m already running late.” You can’t even pretend to not be disappointed when you’ve already taken the liberty of reserving seats for the two of you at a nearby restaurant you frequently visit. He plants a parting kiss on your cheek, but something about it feels so detached and hollow, but who were you to expect more when he didn’t harbor an ounce of affection for you? You nod against the kiss, curtsying as he walks away.
“What a day.” You discard the many hair pins that neatly gathered your hair into a half-updo, grimacing at the stickiness of your locks from the copious amount of hairspray that had been applied to it. Sighing, you get into your car, removing the standard four inch pumps you’ve been instructed to wear, as per the dress protocol set by the Imperial Household Agency for female members of the imperial family when they attend public events, in favor of your more laidback ballet flats.
As you drive out of the main compound of the palace, you are surprised to see Satoru, accompanied by what looks like eight bodyguards, hastily making his way to the official car used by the emperor. He waits as his chauffeur brings the car around, but for some reason, he does not look impatient for someone who is supposedly running late for an urgent appointment, he is leisurely tapping away on his phone. Suddenly, something catches you off guard. A boyish grin appears on Satoru’s face when he is approached by a figure that looks like a woman.
An awfully familiar one.
You don’t know if it must be the heat from your car’s air conditioning unit but — you feel your heart in your throat, no, to be accurate, you feel like you’ve been winded by a punch to the gut — you understand why she would be with him given her position and all, but why was Satoru draping his suit over his Chief-of-Staff’s narrow shoulders?
…
…
…
…
And…why is she kissing your fiancé’s cheek?
water’s edge taglist: @dummyf @kentokaze @esthelily @mandysfanfics @strawberryjimin13 @mat71201 @snowprincesa1 @naturallyspontaneous @kooromin @gojoist @dcvilxswish @13-09-01 @peachipeachy @iluv-ace @sawendel @helloitsshitzulover @jjuniescuderia @ackermendick @starrylibras @timetobegone @heelariously @idktbhloley @jjuniescuderia
#fic: water’s edge#gojo satoru#jjk x reader#geto suguru#gojo satoru x reader#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo satoru angst#gojo x you angst#geto angst#gojo x reader#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader angst#gojo angst
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The day tumblr stans will stop being chronically online is the day I will finally like this fandom. Goofy aah people think their opinions matter?
Last year everyone adored Ayato on this platform but after a certain ahem cult ahem of people joined, I can sense they’re secretly having beef with Ayato and are sending mean anons to Ayato fans for some jealousy reason.
Granted he is not my personal best boy but he’s DiaLovers’ best boy for a fact and the hype he started getting is pretty much deserved. In a series of games that’s a bit dead, I’m glad he’s able to keep it relevant not only for the DiaLovers fans.
Don’t mind delulus saying bad things about him, those only exist on this platform anyway and are just seeking for attention and approval from random strangers.
// Tbh, I’m disappointed but not surprised. Unfair and two-faced people are everywhere and if they truly spend their time in that manner, you can already see how miserable their lives must be.
I believe that the Ayato hate train began with Youngblood and picked up steam this year after the release of the Meow Meow vampire art. Many people made fun of Ayato's appearance and blamed him for FaVoRiTiSm , despite the fact that everyone in Japan adored him there. I don't know why, but the DL Tumblr fandom is completely out of touch with everything DL-related. They have no idea that Rejet simply creates Ayato content as a marketing ploy; in fact, Japanese fans are literally the ones who request it. In 2020, Ayato was stated as fans’ top choice and got invited as a co-star with a national idol at Nino-san, which was broadcasted on the second largest television corporation in Japan. If people hadn’t recommended him so much, he wouldn’t have ended up there… it’s not that hard to understand.
This has the same vibe as those kpop fans who always complain about how their ult group is underrated but don’t even stream their songs, instead they spend their time criticizing bigger groups for what??
I’m not forcing anyone to love Ayato but at least give me good reasons to dislike him. I understand not liking ALL Diaboys but isn’t it hilarious how some people would give you a litany of reasons why they can't stand Ayato, but when you look at their bias, he did the same (or worse) things as (than) Ayato? If you truly dislike those actions, at least pick a side, lol. I honestly don’t hate any Diaboy (though I don’t agree with their behavior all the time) but even if I did, I wouldn’t throw shade at that one character out of the blue only to piss of his stans.
And I swear, it's incredibly annoying how some people would tear Ayato down when asked about their favorite character/ship/route, etc., even though he has absolutely NOTHING to do with the question or he isn’t even the main topic of the question. Saying things like, "Yeah, I like this character because, unlike Ayato (just an example hehe)—" or "No hate towards Ayato but — *proceeds to mischaracterize and hate on him*" are examples of uncalled hate speech. Literally why use HIM most of the time as an example when talking about negative things?? At this point that’s not even a coincidence anymore, but a pattern, which is truly giving fan behavior.
Such people are really the worst. Reminds me of how some fans still think it’s okay commenting stuff like “This is great but I don’t like *inserts thing the OP obviously likes*” or “Not trying to be mean but *starts being mean*”. Respectfully, who even asked for your opinion? Mind your own business and learn basic etiquette.
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New SpaceTime out Wednesday....
SpaceTime 20240313 Series 27 Episode 32
Juno measures oxygen production on the ice moon Europa
NASA’s Juno spacecraft has directly measured charged oxygen and hydrogen molecules from the atmosphere of one of Jupiter’s largest moons, Europa.
New phenomenon challenging textbook definition of white dwarf stars
Astronomers have discovered a population of white dwarf stars that have mysteriously stopped cooling.
New clues about Neptune’s evolution
A ring of icy rocks orbiting the Sun just beyond Neptune may give astronomers a glimpse of how Neptune — and other objects in the outskirts of the solar system — were formed.
Japan moon lander put to sleep after surviving lunar night
Mission managers at JAXA the Japan aerospace exploration agency have placed their lunar lander back into sleep mode after it surprisingly survived the freezing cold lunar night.
The Science Report
Most of the world's coral reefs are under threat or have been damaged potentially beyond repair.
A new study shows smoking rates are down, vaping is up, and 1 in 5 Australians use drugs illegally.
Study shows that global happiness levels take about two weeks to rebound following a global crisis.
Alex on Tech Apple release IOS 17.4
SpaceTime covers the latest news in astronomy & space sciences.
The show is available every Monday, Wednesday and Friday through Apple Podcasts (itunes), Stitcher, Google Podcast, Pocketcasts, SoundCloud, Bitez.com, YouTube, your favourite podcast download provider, and from www.spacetimewithstuartgary.com
SpaceTime is also broadcast through the National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio and on both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.
SpaceTime daily news blog: http://spacetimewithstuartgary.tumblr.com/
SpaceTime facebook: www.facebook.com/spacetimewithstuartgary
SpaceTime Instagram @spacetimewithstuartgary
SpaceTime twitter feed @stuartgary
SpaceTime YouTube: @SpaceTimewithStuartGary
SpaceTime -- A brief history
SpaceTime is Australia’s most popular and respected astronomy and space science news program – averaging over two million downloads every year. We’re also number five in the United States. The show reports on the latest stories and discoveries making news in astronomy, space flight, and science. SpaceTime features weekly interviews with leading Australian scientists about their research. The show began life in 1995 as ‘StarStuff’ on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s (ABC) NewsRadio network. Award winning investigative reporter Stuart Gary created the program during more than fifteen years as NewsRadio’s evening anchor and Science Editor. Gary’s always loved science. He studied astronomy at university and was invited to undertake a PHD in astrophysics, but instead focused on his career in journalism and radio broadcasting. He worked as an announcer and music DJ in commercial radio, before becoming a journalist and eventually joining ABC News and Current Affairs. Later, Gary became part of the team that set up ABC NewsRadio and was one of its first presenters. When asked to put his science background to use, Gary developed StarStuff which he wrote, produced and hosted, consistently achieving 9 per cent of the national Australian radio audience based on the ABC’s Nielsen ratings survey figures for the five major Australian metro markets: Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, and Perth. The StarStuff podcast was published on line by ABC Science -- achieving over 1.3 million downloads annually. However, after some 20 years, the show finally wrapped up in December 2015 following ABC funding cuts, and a redirection of available finances to increase sports and horse racing coverage. Rather than continue with the ABC, Gary resigned so that he could keep the show going independently. StarStuff was rebranded as “SpaceTime”, with the first episode being broadcast in February 2016. Over the years, SpaceTime has grown, more than doubling its former ABC audience numbers and expanding to include new segments such as the Science Report -- which provides a wrap of general science news, weekly skeptical science features, special reports looking at the latest computer and technology news, and Skywatch – which provides a monthly guide to the night skies. The show is published three times weekly (every Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and available from the United States National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio, and through both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.
#science#space#astronomy#physics#news#nasa#esa#astrophysics#spacetimewithstuartgary#starstuff#spacetime
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Sherlock Hound - Ships and Submersibles
Sherlock Hound is an animation series directed by Hayao Miyazaki and Kyosuke Mikuriya in 1983. The series was a joint project between Japan's Tokyo Movie Shinsha and the Italian public broadcasting corporation RAI. Six episodes were directed by Miyazaki in 1981 until problems with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's estate led to a suspension in production. By the time the issues were resolved Miyazaki had turned to other projects, and thus the remaining episodes were directed by Mikuriya. The show was finally aired in 1984. (via characterdesignreferences.com)
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Chapter 213 Trivia (Part 1)
I guess things were going too well for too long..?
Gen's drawing of Senku here was probably inspired by very early chapter cover images. I don't know why else he'd be holding an exploding container.
We've now got three interpretations of Whyman: the generic one, Luna's, and now Gen's.
I like how Gen's has arms and legs coming out of the skull!
Finally! The Kingdom of Science can watch Dr. Stone together!
As long as someone animates it…
Kenjiro Takayanagi of Shizuoka University is considered one of the main pioneers of television, succeeding in displaying the character イ (i) on his Braun tube display in Dec 1926. Over the next few years, he improved the image allowing more detailed images such as human faces.
By 1939, Japan's first television station began broadcasting from NHK (Japan Broadcasting Corporation). After the war, Takayanagi Sensei's work was used as a foundation for other televisions and related industries around the world.
If everyone thought working on a second cell phone after they'd spent months making one was bad, they're not ready to hear about what they'll need to make for television broadcasts. (Senku also never changes...)
I didn't realize how big their other boat was. I guess things made in the USA really are bigger?
The Perseus not being the biggest ship anymore makes me a little sad :(
SAL 9000 is a reference to HAL 9000, the AI antagonist from Space Odyssey. It stands for "Heuristically programmed ALgorithmic computer", so in this case it might be "Senku programmed" or even "Sai programmed"!
The "NES" (actually the Famicom again, both in the drawing and Sai's comment in the Japanese version) and SAL 9000 don't have the exact same specifications:
SAL 9000 is specialized for math operations and thus has a longer word length (16 bits vs 8) which allows more significant figures in the numbers. They've also got more RAM (SAL has 16 kB while the NES has 2).
The downside is that because they used parametrons, their clock speed (how fast they can do calculations) is slower than if they'd used transistors.
The large amount of ROM they've also got could imply that they have several built-in programs. Xeno's work, perhaps?
CRT screens only reach a maximum diagonal length of around 40 inches (~101 cm), as a larger screen needs a larger tube, and the thickness of the glass increases with size to handle the vacuum without shattering making it very unwieldy with the added weight and thus not worth manufacturing for sale.
Senku's here is obviously much, much bigger. Possibly even world record; the biggest CRT screens made were 61 inches (~152 cm) on the diagonal.
SAL 9000 has both air and water cooling, probably used depending on what's better for individual parts. Normally you only need one or the other.
It'd be good if they could get the carbonated water maker in there and ferment some alcohol faster too using the computer's heat…
SAL 9000 also has 3 phase power like modern power transmission. They're AC power sources, phase shifted by 120° so that at any point in time, their sum is 0. The advantage to this is that you don't need return lines for the current, so you can use half as many cables.
The games shown are inspired by Tetris (featuring Ishigami Village and Roppongi!), Pacman, a combination game of Gyruss and Tempest, then another combination game of Galaga and Asteroids.
The transmission towers can only be headed towards the dam, so we have an approximate direction for where that is! There's a few rivers nearby in modern Tokyo, but over 3,700 years they've probably changed a lot.
(Next part)
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Japan's First TV Broadcast
On 1953年2月1日 (昭和28年), NHK began the first TV broadcast in Japan. A half a year later, Nippon TV began broadcasting. At first, TVs were placed in train stations and stores and people gathered there to watch, until TV gradually began appearing in homes.
本放送 ほんほうそう original broadcast
集合 しゅうごう gathering
待ちくたびれる まちくたびれる to get tired of waiting
日本初 にほんはつ first in Japan
加わる くわわる to join, to participate
各家庭 かくかてい each home
普及する ふきゅうする to diffuse, to spread
開始 かいし start, commencement
映像 えいぞう image (on a screen), picture (on a TV, etc.)
音声 おんせい sound (e.g. TV)
電気信号 でんきしんごう electrical signal
電波 でんぱ reception, signal
街頭 がいとう (on the) street
大勢 おおぜい crowd of people; in great numbers
正式名称 せいしきめいしょう official name
日本放送協会 にっぽんほうそうきょうかい NHK (Nippon Hoso Kyokai/Japan Broadcasting Corporation)
#日本の歴史366#2月1日#japans first tv broadcast#単語#語彙#japanese vocabulary#日本語#japanese#japanese language#japanese langblr#japanese studyblr#langblr#studyblr#tokidokitokyo#tdtstudy#歴史#japanese history
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Matsuo Ohno (1930-2022)
Source: AF Plan (Twitter; AF_Plan_info), Forced Exposure
Matsuo Ohno, the sound designer for the 1960s Astro Boy anime and the 1964 Astro Boy movie Hero of Space, passed away on December 19, 2022 at 7:28 AM at the age of 92.
The website Forced Exposure gives a summary of Matsuo Ohno’s life growing up and his formative years:
Matsuo Ohno was responsible for the sound design of a broad range of film, television, and radio soundtracks, most famously the animation series Astro Boy which he began working on in 1963 together with his assistant, Takehisa Kosugi.
Ohno was born in the heavily-populated Kanda district of central Tokyo in 1930 and was heavily affected by the repeated bombing raids on the city enacted in World War II, which took place during his formative years. After the war, deeply motivated by philosophy and surrealism, he was largely unaffected by popular music [...].
Ohno began immersing himself in the realm of sound effects while working with the Bungaku-za modernist theatre troupe and he performed a similar function at NHK, Japan's national broadcasting corporation, but became so frustrated by the rigidity of the restrictions imposed on him there that he quit his prestigious post at the broadcaster, although his skills were such that he remained in high demand as a freelancer, which allowed him to refine his sound effects techniques with evolving analogue synthesizers.
Ohno worked on the sound effects in the 1960s Astro Boy anime, which includes Atom’s squeaky boots.
Ohno was active up until his death in 2022, even working on the sound design for the T0-B1 episode in Star Wars: Visions in 2021 which was heavily influenced by Astro Boy.
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Doc Scratch (Homestuck)
"The mostly omniscient First Guardian of Alternia, who has been pulling the strings for millenia to cause the tragedies befalling Alternia and orchestrate Lord English’s arrival. His understanding is limited to the Alpha Timeline, but if he comes across something he doesn't know naturally, he's usually able to figure it out pretty quick; the only way to entirely block him out is the power of Void. He considers people who don’t have his near-omniscience “Suckers,” but when Terezi tells him Vriska has one of his magic cue balls (which gives her just a fraction of his near-omniscience), he flips the fuck out. He seems to lack traditional senses and instead perceives the world using his omniscience, which allows him to possess faultless knowledge of his environment's contents, appearance and behavior without using physical senses to derive it. When he attempts to make amends with Vriska and implies that she will come across a monopoly of misfortune if she refuses, and is answered with insults, he almost-outright states that Vriska will not survive the destruction her actions will cause. Given his omniscience and role in preserving the Alpha timeline, this may have been nothing more than an attempt to slip in a barb on Vriska; he knew she wouldn't act differently, and his job was to preserve the cascade of misfortune that brought about Lord English — but he left her with the blame for it. He manipulates sessions into guaranteed failure so he can warp them into twisted, sociopathic killing pens designed to produce "ideal" players… whose actions only create another failed session. His MO is to "nudge" people down routes that they would have taken anyway, using his knowledge to manipulate and mislead; as of the end of Act 5, each and every playable character, Jack Noirs included, were being set up in order to help him create the Green Sun, when everyone who knew about the Green Sun thought that they were trying to destroy it, and he never once lied."
Futaba Sakura (Persona)
"A playful hacker who acts as the Phantom Thieves’ Mission Control, using her technological skills to uncover information in the real world and her Navigator abilities to provide information about the Palaces and Shadows in the Metaverse. The Phantom Thieves recruited her to take down the hacker group Medjed (named after an Egyptian deity whose description calls him “that smiter […] who shoots with his eyes”), only to discover that she’s the original Medjed. Her Personas are Necronomicon (a source of forbidden knowledge that drives people mad), Prometheus (who stole fire from the gods for humanity), and Al Azif (the Arabic title of the Necronomicon). By remembering the truth behind her mother’s death, she unlocked Necronomicon: "What denies you is an illusion… A curse put upon you by the heartless… You knew from the very beginning… And yet, you cowered in fear. […] The forbidden wisdom has been revealed. No mysteries, no illusions will deceive you any longer." Her technological prowess is second to none: not only does she manage to take down a corporate executive impersonating her hacker group Medjed, but she manages to crack into more-or-less every television broadcast in Japan to send a calling card from the Phantom Thieves to Masayoshi Shido, just to make absolutely sure he knows they're coming. As the original Medjed, her skills were of worldwide fame, even if her own identity remained anonymous. She has a habit of using her skills without regard for privacy or consequences, such as her bugging of Leblanc to keep an eye on Sojiro, bugging the protagonist's phone camera so she can keep an eye on them during their trip to Hawaii, and finding out her Uncle's financial history. When the Thieves are targeting Makoto’s sister Sae, she offers to tell them about Sae’s history with men and “her repertoire of underwear.” Makoto even mentions before the Hawaii trip that she's glad Futaba is on their side, recognizing she'd make a fearsome enemy."
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12 Ways to Divide Japan
I'm basing this on the lesson I had today in Japanese culture class. Here is the picture my teacher shared with us. It is accessible on Google images if you search on the title of this post. I'm just sharing it here because I think it's both funny and educational.
Most of it likely goes without explanation. I think my teacher said the picture was from 2011 or something. The political one is probably the one suffering from time the most. LDP still excists (they're the ruling party and have been for years. Anything else would be odd). One or more of the other parties may or may not still exist. As for Hashimoto, he was a well-known Japanese politician back when this picture was made. According to the teacher he should allegedly have told the people from Okinawa who were tired of American military bases that he'd gladlly have them. Then the people from Okinawa back-tracked because it would give them less places of employment. A say-whatever-you-want type of politician that got a lot of media attention.
NHK, for those who don't know, is short for 日本放送協会 (Nippon Housou Kyoukai) Japan Broadcasting Corporation. It is the Japanese national news station. This means, they are supposed to cover all of Japan in their news. The map allegedly tells the truth. In my home country, it is defiinitely true that the national news station only covers the capital area unless something bad, like an environmental catastrophe happens.
I'll also share this one of Kyoto (which I found on the same Google search. I don't know much about Kyoto, despite having been there twice, but I found this funny too.
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I'd Rather Watch Dragon Ball Z Than Sailor Moon
Original Template: https://www.deviantart.com/mastuhoscg8845iscool/art/I-d-rather-watch-826100781
Dragon Ball Z Belongs To Akira Toriyama, Takao Koyama, Toei Animation Co., Ltd. Toei Company, Ltd. Fuji Television Network, Inc. Crunchyroll, Otter Media Holdings, LLC, AT&T Inc. Warner Bros. Discovery Global Streaming and Interactive Entertainment, YTV, YTV Canada, Inc. Corus Entertainment Inc. The CW Television Network, The CW Network, LLC, Nexstar Media Group, Inc. CBS Entertainment Group, Warner Bros. Discovery U.S. Networks, Nicktoons, Nickelodeon Group, Paramount International Networks, Paramount Domestic Media Networks, Paramount Media Networks, Inc. Paramount Global, Cartoon Network, The Cartoon Network, Inc. Warner Bros. Discovery Networks, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. WarnerMedia, Warner Bros. Discovery, Inc. Crunchyroll, LLC, Funimation, Aniplex, Inc. Sony Music Entertainment (Japan) Inc. Pop Max, CSC Media Group Limited, Sony Pictures Television Inc. Sony Pictures Entertainment Inc. Sony Entertainment, Inc. Sony Corporation of America, Sony Group Corporation, And Narrative Entertainment UK Limited
Sailor Moon (TV series) Belongs To Naoko Takeuchi, Toei Animation Co., Ltd. Toei Company, Ltd. Crunchyroll, Otter Media Holdings, LLC, AT&T Inc. Warner Bros. Discovery Global Streaming and Interactive Entertainment, WarnerMedia, Warner Bros. Discovery, Inc. Crunchyroll, LLC, Sony Music Entertainment (Japan) Inc. Sony Pictures Entertainment Inc. Sony Entertainment, Inc. Sony Corporation of America, Sony Group Corporation, WOW! Unlimited Media Inc. VIZ Media, LLC, Shogakukan-Shueisha Productions Co., Ltd. TV Asahi Holdings Corporation, ABC Television, Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC), Network 10, Ten Network Holdings Ltd. Paramount Networks UK & Australia, Paramount International Networks, Paramount Global, Seven Network, Seven West Media Ltd. Global Television Network, YTV, YTV Canada, Inc. Corus Entertainment Inc. Toonami, Adult Swim, Cartoon Network, The Cartoon Network, Inc. Warner Bros. Discovery Networks, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. WarnerMedia, Warner Bros. Discovery, Inc. Sky Kids (TV channel), Sky Group Limited, And Comcast Corporation
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I almost mistook this clock for a modern alarm clock that was gonna be a minor case of anachronism because the movie is set in 2000, but I found out it was a 1988 model, so it fits with setting nicely, but I'm a bit disappointed that Mike didn't have one of these bad boys:
Please tell me I'm not the only one who feels like this clock radio is a collective shared memory of 90s kids?
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Cultural Bias, Content Creation, and Web Design
Or: Claire watched some YouTube videos and needs to yell about them
A few months ago, I watched this video by answer in progress (henceforth, aip). It presents an argument that the Japanese internet looks different in some relevant way to the English internet due to a difference in how web design evolved relative to technology. Specifically, the Japanese web wasn’t designed for modern touch screen devices. I thought it was neat and moved on with my life, mostly content to not critically engage with the subject due to my lack of experience on the Japanese web. This morning, I watched a response to the video by a content creator named Cynthia Zhou which argued that aip’s video didn’t adequately discuss relevant cultural differences in cognition between Easterners and Westerners. Then, due to the divine intervention of the algorithm gods, I was served this video by 犬飼ゆい (Inukai Yui). In it, they argue that both answer in progress and Zhou are wrong because they’ve made an initial error in their assumptions about what the Japanese internet actually looks like. Their argument is persuasive. After poking fun of Amazon Web Services cluttered UX nightmare of a site, they tour us around a Chinese news website and Japanese art sharing platform Pixiv, both of which are cleanly designed and easy to read. This got me thinking about how this strange sequence of videos came to exist.
So let’s start with aip’s assumption about what the Japanese internet looks like.
Here’s Japanese language Wikipedia’s home page:
Looks pretty standard from my point of view. Large text boxes section off different articles while pictures are naturally interspersed through out. Clean, visually appealing, and not dissimilar to the Wikipedia I’m familiar with. If anything, the text itself is larger than I’d reasonably expect for English language Wikipedia. That’s it really.
Okay, but Wikipedia has a standardized design language. Let’s try something more localized. Here’s the Waseda University’s homepage:
Again, we see a clean, familiar design language. The large image in the centre displaying the campus is balanced by a series of menu bars. It seems a little strange that there’s seemingly two perpendicular sets of menu bars, but that’s fine. They’re for separate kinds of thing, so nbd. So let’s get something to compare it to. Here’s the homepage for my university:
Fewer menu bars— wait. What’s that?
Is that… is that three menu bars? Crammed into one menu bar? No… wtf, Carleton? Suddenly, Waseda’s perpendicular menu bars make sense. More information is immediately available to the viewer and different kinds of information are sectioned off from one another. Okay, so far what have we learned? Well, so far it looks like the Japanese and English internets aren’t that different. This is only a selection of three (four if you include EngLang Wikipedia) and the internet is a big place. So let’s look at a non representative sample of Japanese websites really quickly:
Here’s the NHK homepage. This is Japan’s national broadcaster.
Here’s the homepage for the All Japan Rally Championship. This website doesn’t even have an English language version, so this is raw, uncut Japanese web design.
This is the homepage of Game8’s Japanese Genshin Impact wiki (in case that wasn’t obvious). I use Game8’s English Genshin wiki all the time because I’m a baby who can’t find stuff like the oculi.
Now, let’s contrast with some English Language equivalent sites:
Top to Bottom, Left to Right: The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, Canadian Rally Championship, and Game8 again, but worse and with a more dated banner graphic
I’m no expert, but it sure feels like the English language websites here are kinda… worse looking? Not much, mind you, just a bit less tidy. The CRC website is especially hard on the eyes, in my humble opinion, but it still hits the same major beats as the JRCA one. You’ve got a sick picture of a rally car hitting a jump as the thumbnail to an article, you’ve got a brand up there, you’ve got a big red logo in the left hand corner. It’s, you know, rally stuff (apologies for all of you who do not understand the phrase ‘rally stuff’). So right off the bat, it feels like Inukai has a solid point to make. These are emblematic of sites that I would visit fairly regularly as a Japanese web user and they look basically the same as their Canadian equivalents, if not cleaner. aip’s assumption about the Japanese internet sure looks like just that now: an assumption. More over, Zhou’s argument that there are differences in how East Asians and Westerners process information doesn’t seem to hold much water either, at least as far as web design is concerned. To really drive home the point, check out these three websites:
Top to Bottom, Left to Right: Japanese Rail Toukai, Via Rail (barfing emoji), and Deutsche Bahn (the German national railway)
God damn, these look copy pasted. Except Via, which has pop ups all over it for some reason. Get your shit together, Via Rail. So, if we take the DB website as a proxy for the German language internet (yes, yes, I know, this methodology is bad), we get the sense that there is a sort of translingual design ethos that tends towards clean, easy to read, and easy to navigate websites. So this begs the question, why did aip and Zhou both seem to think that the Japanese internet looks radically different?
Psyche!
I actually don’t care. What I’m actually interested in is the reason this content exists and why aip and Zhou have 4.4 million and 700 thousand views on their respective videos while Inukai’s is hovering around 2000 thousand. I think the reason is actually fairly obvious. Beyond the noticable differences in production quality between when aip and Zhou’s videos compared to Inukai’s, what’s intriguing here is the narrative for sale. The premise of Inukai’s video (other than the first two videos being stupid and made by idiots, which is more or less his sentiment) is that there aren’t really that many differences in web design across the cultural divide. Japanese websites can be uncluttered and concise while English ones can be cluttered and had to navigate. By contrast, aip and Zhou offer up the idea that Japan (and East Asia by extension), it’s people, it’s technology, and it’s culture are relevantly different from the West.
This narrative sells well to Europeans and their intellectual descendants in North America. It literally always has. From the adventures of Marco Polo, to the impressionists’ obsession with Japanese aesthetics, to weeb culture today, we love to look East and go, “Oh wow, they’re so different and cool, I want to be like that.”
So of course, narratives about how mysterious and inscrutable the Orient is will sell well. And I do mean sell. aip and Zhou undoubtably made money either directly or indirectly off of how popular their videos are. And while I don’t really care for Inukai’s flippant attitude, I think they make a good point when they say something to the effect of, ‘check that something is true before you try to explain it.’ Having now done some cursory checking, I’m left with the distinct impression that, like, I’ve been swindled? aip and Zhou made interesting and engaging videos that lay at an intersection of things I’m interested in — Japanese culture and aesthetics, technology, and cultural anthropology — and I gave them my attention.
Being charitable, I would guess that they let their presuppositions carry them too far into the process of research and argument without actually, you know, checking. aip even used an AI to scrape the web and sort the data and, well, AI’s are kinda bad at, like, anything subjective. Zhou’s video is a bit more insidious to me because of it’s reliance on ‘cultural psychology’ a phrase that anyone with an even passing knowledge of early 20th century history should be suspicious of. And her arguments themselves don’t give me much confidence that ‘cultural psychology’ is just intellectually laundered race science.
The distinction she draws between ‘holistic’ East Asians and ‘analytical’ Europeans sure does sound like something that would have some rather disreputable German and Japanese politicians and propagandists from the thirties nodding along eagerly. Worse still, I think she’s actually hit on something that contains a nugget of truth: there is a difference between how East Asians and Euro-Americans express and interpret information. But it’s not psychological, it’s linguistic.
In his paper “Objects and Events: linguistic and philosophical notions of ‘thingness,’” author Rein Raud argues that languages can be roughly divided between object biasing languages and event biasing ones. This is to say that grammatically and philosophically, some languages are more interested in the actors while others are more interested in the actions being preformed.
In my admitted limited experience with the Japanese language, I would contend that it is particularly event biasing. Subjects are regularly omitted from sentences in favour of focusing on the actions they are subject to. Adjectives stand alone in sentences without verbs, lending a sense that the quality described is the focal point of the thought. In a sense, it acts upon the thing which it defines. Anything — fucking anything, I’m not even kidding — can be an adverb. The language is heavily context sensitive as it lacks a proper future tense as well as grammatical number. Japanese doesn’t have plurals, at least not like we do in English. Further, the past tense is actually a complete tense. It refers to the state of completion of an action not it’s temporal locality. Thus, it functions like a past tense when contextually relevant, but it is also employed in situations were a present action is completed. Finally, the sentence structure is quite fluid such that object and subject can swap places as the speaker feels is appropriate so long as they are properly demarcated with particles. Verbs as well as adjectives if they are the focal point of the sentence, do not move. They anchor the thought, always sitting in the final position.
This linguistic feature of Japanese (and some other East Asian languages) seems liable to produce the kinds of behaviours that Zhou attributes to psychology. Language shapes the ways in which we interact with information as it is the medium through which it is often rendered intelligible to us. If my hunch is correct, by controlling for language, studies on non-linguistic approaches to learning and expressing information are likely to produce more similar results cross culturally. This would also explain why the non-linguistic aspects of web-design actually do seem to accord with one another.
Now, I don’t want to suggest that culture is completely irrelevant to how we move through the social world. Rather, I’m arguing that culture is simply one of many layers through which information gets filtered as it moves through the complex web of social relations that form a society. Language and culture form an important epistemic nexus, but I’m skeptical that it they do so psychologically. Rather, my feeling is that they act on us at the interpersonal not intrapersonal level.
I plan on expanding on this argument and on Raud’s paper more generally at some point in the future. I think that there are important insights from feminist relational theory that could further illuminate why I’m so skeptical of ‘cultural psychology’ as a discipline.
Also, I’m so sorry that this post isn’t about girls kissing. I promise, the next stupidly long thing I write will focus on something yuri related (I’ve got some ideas that I’m kicking around, they just aren’t ready yet).
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