#like it really is the more vulnerable members of society who are more at risk

[halalgirlmeg]

Also something that I've been thinking about in regards to masking is like...no matter your preference masks cost money and there are people who can mask and choose not to. But like there are people who can't mask consistently like, can homeless people mask all the time? And like what if they want to like go get something to eat or go indoors somewhere when it's really cold or raining? Or what about people in prison/jail? Like are masks available and knowing how prison works they're not free, nor is testing readily available. Like these are 2 groups of ppl who probably have a hard time getting access to good Healthcare for one reason or another they're actually more at risk

[speedyslothboi]

I spent an hour making a flower crown today. I'd never made one before. It didn't turn out very good; clumsy knots and and sticky fingers and broken petals but I still put it on and smiled. I never got that kind of childhood. I wondered if this is what healing feels like: sitting on a picnic table, gently warmed by the sun, breathing in the world. I have so much to do (an ap psych test in three days, ethics bowl nationals and science olympiad state to prepare for, a read through for the play on Monday) and instead I went outside and listened to the birds.

Then I got home and cried. Because 30,000 people will never get to make a flower crown again (and how many never had? It took me 17 years. That's more time than many of them ever got). I haven't breathed clearly in 6 months; a weight on my chest and a pit in my stomach but for one hour, I felt like I could breathe, the smell of grass unfamiliar but comfortable (and how many died in that time? Trapped under rubble? The weight on their chests real).

I feel like I've been sitting Shiva for strangers halfway across the world but I'll die before I finish mourning (575 years is a lot to ask of this body). I'm not doing a very good job. But what else can I do but remember? I don't know know what to do with myself. I'm heartbroken and horrified and I am so angry. I go to school and hear kids talk about tik tok drama and I want to grab them and shake them and yell "how can you think about anything else? How can breathe around your guilt well enough to speak?" I feel like I know to much and too little, never informed fast enough. I feel like I'm grieving and like I have no right to grieve. I'm tired. I'm not doing well (I can't remember the last time I brushed my teeth and I still need to schedule my fillings and do my laundry and change my sheets) but I feel so selfish doing anything to make myself happy, like I'm stealing joy I don't deserve. And I know that I'm burnt-out (years into it) and that I have to take care of myself too but I just don't know how to carry all this grief. And this isn't about me (I'm making it about me, aren't I?)

This will be the first presidential election I get to vote in and I can't vote for him, I can't. And I'm scared. People keep saying it's selfish not to but I'm the one who will face the consequences. I'm one of the "vulnerable" people (does that make it self-sacrificial? Does that make it okay? To risk my communities if I am at risk too?)

Paul Alexander died three weeks ago. I can't stop thinking about him. (Most of the articles won't tell you why though; that one of the most vulnerable members of society was abandoned to a disease that has killed 3 million). I keep seeing inspiration porn articles about how he didn't let his disability "stop him" (I feel like I'm "letting" mine stop me). None of them mention "I love the sun, but I haven't felt it in a long time. It's lonely." (I feel lonely all the time but I didn't feel lonely at the park, with dirt in my fingernails. I don't really believe in heaven but I hope it exists so Paul can sit in the sun again). I think of Paul and I am filled with rage. 5,000 people die of covid every week; that's one person every five minutes (how is that okay? how could you abandon us for "normal"?) and I'm one of three people out of 2200 at my school who still wear a mask. I got the most recent booster two days ago (the one only the "vulnerable" can get as if long covid isn't becoming an increasingly documented mass disabling event. And the genocide is one too. And what about the countries we blocked from getting vaccines with patents. How dare we condemn the global south to suffer without vaccines only to stop getting them). And I need to buy more masks (yet another expense to exist while disabled) and they aren't free anymore so it's another 3 hours of work. Cases keep rising despite the lack of testing and wastewater doesn't lie. And whats the new variant? News isnt reporting on it anymore because "no one cares" (I care. I need to believe others would care if they knew. Maybe thats just wishful thinking) I still have at home tests but their negatives feel like taunts (a positive is a positive though, I remember)

I don't really have any friends. I have acquaintances and people I work with for projects but I don't want them to be my friends. My mom and my therapist keep telling me to reach out and do things with them (I know it would be good for me to socialize but doing so would put me at risk. They can't even wear a mask, and I'm supposed to choose to spend extra time with them?) Neither my mom or therapist wears a mask. (My mom fought for me when doctors didn't believe anything was wrong. Fought for 7 years to get a diagnosis and now she won't protect me.) I go to the doctors and even they aren't wearing masks (didn't you learn your lesson?).

I've seen people complain about "boycott fatigue" and I'm just wonder how you are surprised? I lost faith 2 years ago when people decided that disabled people's lives weren't worth discomfort (I used to value the nuance, how it isnt that simple. Now my compassion is shot. My empathy used up on three million deaths. But it is, isnt it? Simple that is. You just dont care enough). When the accessibility we begged for for years that had been "impossible" was suddenly "easy" when everyone needed and then taken away just as quickly. The second you could leave us behind, you did. So how could I be surprised people would do the same for Falastin? I love theatre, and I'm excited for too much light. But half of them will walk in with Starbucks on Monday (and none of them will be wearing a mask) and I know these people will never truly be my people (I resent them and love them but mostly I'm disappointed.)

I've been crying alot. I never used to cry. Sometimes I feel like that means I'm healing (some of the time I wonder if I have the right to heal right now). It's like this grief keeps overflowing but the world keeps turning (and how can everyone keep living right now?) and homework keeps coming and the genocide keeps happening and I need to get back to making my magma composition notes. (I left the flower crown at the park. I felt guilty about picking the flowers; that must be bad for the environment, right? How selfish, to kill things just to make a silly crown, and I didnt even do it very well. It fell apart within a minute. An hour of work crumpled in my hands. A moment of enjoyment stolen at the cost of life, what a bad vegan I am. Anyway, i left the flowers there, to decompose where they were born)

[the-feminist-philosopher]

Kimberelé Crenshaw literally disagrees with you.

“Intersectionality is an analytic sensibility, a way of thinking about identity and its relationship to power. Originally articulated on behalf of black women, the term brought to light the invisibility of many constituents within groups that claim them as members, but often fail to represent them.  Intersectional erasures are not exclusive to black women. People of color within LGBTQ movements; girls of color in the fight against the school-to-prison pipeline; women within immigration movements; trans women within feminist movements; and people with disabilities fighting police abuse — all face vulnerabilities that reflect the intersections of racism, sexism, class oppression, transphobia, able-ism and more. Intersectionality has given many advocates a way to frame their circumstances and to fight for their visibility and inclusion.” -Kimberlé Crenshaw

Transphobia 🎶 🎵

Feminism is a movement to uplift and empower and liberate women, That includes trans women. It's not a costume. They're quite literally women. They go about life being women, treated like women, experiencing the same oppressive forces of sexualization and fetishization and a lack of bodily autonomy and the demonization of femininity and womanhood and assault and harassment as most cis women. In fact, trans women are at a higher risk of violence, harassment, and assault than cis women. They understand the nuances perfectly well, you've just never spoken to a real life trans woman before. The only trans woman that exists is the caricature in your mind.

Never mind that trans women are literally out there fighting for bodily autonomy and the right to love and the dismantling patriarchy's tendency to arbitrarily gender things and assign them to a specific sex and writing about and speaking about how to empower and liberate women and championing legislation and movements for exactly this. You just refuse to listen to them because you hate that their existence makes you anxious; makes you question the foundations of your ideology and the social structure upon which you were raised.

You can say you're a communist all you want dear, the only allies you have and people who agree with you are Christo-fascists and religious fundamentalists. Those are who are championing your ideology. Those are the people Radical Feminists have gone and allied with.

You're literally already aligned with fascists.

(Also, for a supposed communist, you really do not understand the meaning of class.)

I think you like to think you're on the "left" because it allows you to feel more comfortable about your hate. Admitting that you are not working with any actual communists would means admitting you are not working on the side of history that will be remembered fondly.

It's likely a sunk-cost fallacy for you. You have gone so far down this road that you feel there is no incentive to turn back. You dedicated all this time to hate, so you feel the need to make that time worthy by convincing yourself you're fighting for women and against the patriarchy. The cost of admitting that you're surrounded on all sides by snakes in your mind is much greater than hate you can continue to spew if you continue ahead.

Meanwhile, Incels are lauding your efforts. They need you. They cannot destroy feminism without women and they have found the perfect wedge to drive you from it and inspire you to take a sledge hammer to a liberation movement. They cannot get feminism to fail without people like you.

You aren't "turn[ing] in[]to a fascist," you already are working with them, already uplifting them, already campaigning for them.

As for your insistence upon "definitions":

[M]ale dominant society has long striven to define "woman" as a discrete biological category: female, with the purpose of stripping certain people of personhood can really challenge so much of the pro-gender/sex binary bull we are all fed from childhood.

We can no longer ignore how biology, biological discourse, and the terms and words we use to refer to our material reality are structured by historic and current social and political views. A biological reality becomes cognitively significant through this discourse and these terms we use and concepts we engage with. So, defining 'women' as 'females' -- and thus emphasizing a label that is ascribed to all at birth along patriarchal standards of 'correct' genitalia and 'best' fertility -- is itself a political choice influenced by one’s socialization rather than one that can claim to neutrally reflect what the world is 'really' and 'materially' like.

The fact society already defines 'women' as ova producers and child bearers (i.e. the very definition of human female; the sex that has the ability or potential to bear offspring or produce eggs) or even as vagina havers and uterus havers (i.e. the insistence that, 'only someone with a uterus or vagina is a woman') is a result of socialization in a male dominant society that has striven to define 'woman' as a discrete biological class, female.

Even radical feminist Catharine MacKinnon (an actual radical feminist, and she supports trans women) understood that to be defined as female is to be an object. You do not get to consent to yourself; to your femaleness. It has been defined and ascribed to you and for you. Because male dominant society must see to it that female is a woman and "clearly" a woman, opposite that of "man." It must see to it that women are women and men are men and that the two ought be separate because this allows said society to prescribe certain bounds to each group.

Certain bounds of behavior. Certain bounds of public life. Certain bounds of private life. Certain bounds of presentation.

And this all helps foster the reification of gendered associations that decrease the perception of women as empowered agents and even human. These bounds of behavior assign to men the role of Aggressor and to women the role of passive Recipient, helping to reproduce sexual violence against women by decreasing their agency. These social prescriptions encourage men to act on behalf of women from making financial or relationship decisions, to deciding when and where and how a woman has sex, to the definition and social prescription of 'female,' and to the reproductive alienation of those assigned female.

Thus, 'female' is far from a neutral scientific observation and 'woman' is far from a scientific category. It was defined by the patriarchy and the white supremacist power structure and it was designed to strip certain people of their agency and humanity. It is a classification that popped up during the period of post-enlightenment rationality as the European colonial system controlled the world. Enlightenment rationality brought to Europeans a renewed fascination with analyzing and categorizing the world, most especially its people. The enlightenment fascination with categorization was the justification for the colonization of and dominance over non-white, non-European people.

But from the enlightenment also emerged the idea that a 'natural law' governed all people; that we were subject to a natural hierarchy; that there were some individuals more human than others. The modern definitions of "male" and "female" evolved alongside our creation of the definitions for "black" and "white" and alongside our definitions of and prescriptions of personhood.

'In the United States, the man known as the father of gynecology, J. Marion Sims, built the field in the antebellum South, operating on enslaved women in his backyard, often without anesthesia—or, of course, consent. As C. Riley Snorton has recently documented, the distinction between biological females and women as a social category, far from a neutral scientific observation, developed precisely in order for the captive black woman to be recognized as female—making Sims’s research applicable to his women patients in polite white society—without being granted the status of social and legal personhood. Sex was produced, in other words, precisely at the juncture where gender was denied. In this sense, a female has always been less than a person.'

The insistence upon one standard definition for the female-experience, is laughable, at best. And not just because definitions are inherently imprecise and inadequately encompass the entirety of our lived experienced and the material world. But also because the definitions of words are literally socially constructed. They were created and have since been defined and influenced by oppressive structures like the patriarchy and white supremacy and colonialism. This defining of human experiences is influenced by cissexism, intersexism, heterosexism, and sexism.

There isn't a single property that makes 'femaleness.' And that's pretty widely accepted. There's no single thing that single-handedly makes for 'womanhood' or 'female.' It's not like after a certain number or configuration of properties converging at a particular time, you get 'female.' There should never be some one standard against which all bodies are compared or measured for the correct amount of 'femaleness.'

So, when people want to create a standard measure for 'femaleness,' we need to ask WHO gets to set these standards or properties of 'femaleness' and WHY they're the authority. In any claim about which measures or properties are adequately 'female-enough' are assumptions about power and authority. Who has the power and authority in our society to decide who is 'female-enough?'" X

First, "Transgenderism" does not exist. Trans people exist. But there is no trans ideology. It's just trans people living and letting live.

Second, intersectional feminism- which you're actually critiquing as it is the one ideology or paradigm which consistently advocates for trans inclusion and liberation of *all* women- is notoriously not a white movement. It was literally coined by a black woman and seeks to decolonize sex relations.

The issue with modern feminism you have is simply it's inclusion of trans women. Because you cannot stand their existence, that much is clear. You clearly find them disgusting and reprehensible and abominations of the gender binary.

Well, that's... wildly incorrect. Although, black and brown trans people do face more violence than white trans people. Most trans people and all intersectional feminists agree with that.

And what sort of wild conspiracy are you spewing here? You know the majority of trans people work low wage jobs, right? They're not working in the Tech industry. They face staggering rates of poverty.

I do believe trans women are women. They are completely and totally women. I accept them in my feminism because I am an intersectional feminist and I understand the intersection of sex and cisgendered status and how they play off each other.

I treat no one with misogyny. Because I have a deep understanding of the benevolent sexism they brain wash people into accepting, something which you have yet to address in yourself. Unlike you, I also do not demonize or shit on anything people associate with women. There is no such thing as "inferior" or "superior."

I also understand that the patriarchy has a stake in maintaining gender differentiation and the gender-sex binary.

A trans woman made you your coffee the other day. She handed it to you. You are none the wiser that her trans hand touched that same coup you drank out of. A trans woman packaged your latest Amazon shipment. She's not allowed to use the bathroom; has to use bottles to pee in. A trans woman answered the phone when you called customer service, and you were none the wiser. A trans woman sorted and packaged the food you eat-- from those chips you enjoy to that drink you really like to the cereal you eat, and the tea you buy.

She helped make the chips for the computer or smart phone you're using to harass me and hate her.

Me: "Many of those pussy hats and pins and t-shirts with catchy slogans you all love are made in sweatshops. The women making them make cents on the dollar and get raped by the foreman, daily. Because the patriarchy is trying to sell you your empowerment; convince you that buying from these billionaires is "liberating" because the billionaires happen to be women."

You: "This is oppression!"

Die mad about how you're supporting sweatshops in the global south every time you buy one of those shirts.

[saotome-michi]

Vice really made a video blaming the sexual abuse of children on manga, instead of Japan's weak laws/support for childrens rights and victims of abuse and sexual assault. If manga had that much power, then Japan would be the country with the highest rates of violence and sexual activity in the world, and yet.

Like why not talk about how in Japanese society, children are seen as parents' property and that outsiders shouldn't intervene in parenting (or the lack of). Why not talk about how a focus on blood ties makes Japanese people wary of adoption or fostering, and how that as well as other factors has lead to the Japanese gov's over-reliance on residential care facilities, where sexual abuse is widespread. Why not talk about the lack of support for single mothers and how that makes the children in those families even more vulnerable. Why not talk about how a lack of awareness about mental health + poor economy has led to parents suffering from mental illnesses, substance abuse, etc abusing their kids for years without the rest of society stepping in until those kids die. Why not talk about how in 2018, an investigation found that many of the staff members in child services had no background in social welfare and lacked the skills to properly assess high-risk situations or tackle conflict. Why not talk about how a lack of education in schools about child abuse means that many child abuse victims had no idea of what resources they had or who to ask for help. The lack of education also means that other kids grow up not knowing any better on how to help child abuse victims. Why not talk about how a focus on authority positions (parents, teachers, etc) means kids are afraid of speaking out.

But no really, banning manga will help solve these issues.

[rocklandhistoryblog]

#FBF News from Yesteryear

March 22, 1973 – 50 YEARS AGO in #RocklandHistory

Excerpt from The Journal News

LET ME PLAY BASEBALL

[Image: Baseball hopeful Fern Heinig (foot on bumper) and supporters. Photograph by Art Sarno.]

Like many other normal, healthy 14-year-olds, Fern Heinig of Spring Valley likes to play baseball. And William Darden, the baseball coach at Pomona Junior High School, where Fern is an eighth grade student, is all for it.

“If girls are willing to meet the same fitness standards as boys, and if they are willing to assume the same risks of being injured,” says Darden, “then I’m for giving them the opportunity to play on the team. The name of the game is winning, and if a particular young lady would be an asset to the school’s team, then why shouldn’t she contribute?”

Fern would like very much to contribute, but she hasn’t even been given the chance to find out whether or not she would be an asset to the team. Tryouts for the school’s baseball team started earlier this week, but Fern was barred from them because of a regulation by the New York State Department of Education’s Athletic Division, which excludes girls from participating in contact sports with boys.

‘‘It’s a ridiculous regulation,” argues Fern. “It’s based on the completely unfounded contention that girls are more fragile than boys and the questionable definition of baseball as a contact sport.” Fern has engaged the legal counsel of Ann Glickman of the Legal Aid Society, and with the support of her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Abraham Heinig, she has begun her campaign to change the regulation.

About 40 of Fern’s classmates and members of the Rockland County feminist organization demonstrated at Pomona Junior High School after school yesterday.

“Fern wants to try out for the boys’ team,” protests school principal Dr. William Anderson. “We would clearly be violating the state’s athletic department rules and regulations if we let her go through with her plans. The regulation was designed for the benefit of the girls, in recognition of the physiological differences between boys and girls. It is intended to protect girls from injury.”

“The team,” Fern points out, “is the school team, not the boys’ team. And as for the question of fitness and avoidance of injuries, the regulation doesn’t make sense. Girls are allowed to participate in contact sports with other girls, so they’re saying that a ball thrown by a girl is less likely to injure a teammate than one thrown by a boy, and I think they’re wrong.

“There are some girls who may not be strong enough to play on a really tough ball team, but there are also many boys who don’t make the team, and they at least have the chance to try out.”

“Boys do throw balls harder than girls, and boys move faster than girls. Their anatomical structure is different,” says Dr. Gerald Hase, supervisor of the State Education Department’s Division of Health, Recreation and Physical Education in Albany. “A girl’s chest area renders her more vulnerable to blows, and therefore, the State has set up certain guidelines and regulations to protect her.”

“I suppose it’s a lot cheaper for the State to provide the girls with a regulation to protect their ‘vulnerable area,’ than it would be to provide them with the same athletic equipment such as the padding, etc. that protects a male student’s ‘vulnerable area,’“ one local feminist supporter of Fern’s drive points out.

“But the parents of female students pay the same taxes and support the same athletic programs in the school systems as the parents of males,” she adds, “and I think that their daughters are entitled to the same extensive physical education programs, athletic scholarship opportunities, training courses and athletic equipment that is made available to the boys.”

Dr. Joel Manuel, spokesman for the Rockland County Medical Society and chairman of the Society’s committee on sports medicine, conjectured that the state’s prohibitive regulation must be based on studies dealing with the psychological competitiveness and emphasis on physical prowess that is instilled in boys in this society, and not in girls.

“Physiologically though,” he explains, “there’s no difference. With the proper training and preparation girls could be just as physically capable as boys.”

To help Fern win the right to try out for the team, Ann Glickman of the Legal Aid Society has advised her parents to write to Dr. Anderson, Fern’s principal, officially informing him of the fact that they would like to see the regulation changed.

“My parents have really backed me up 100 per cent on this,” confirms Fern, “and so have a surprising number of girls in my school.

“The girls’ softball games that the athletic department planned last season were a dismal failure,” Fern explains. “We were supposed to play six games, but the only one that was ever actually organized was rained out after the second inning. Once interscholastic sports and competitions are opened up to girls as well as boys, I think more and more girls will find out how much they’ve been missing, and how much fun sports like baseball can be.”

Read full flashback report here:

[ambermonick]

What's Really Harming our Children

I think it’s safe to assume that every caring parent on this planet wants what is best for their children. We do our best to provide for them in hopes that they will feel comfortable in their own skin and be able to integrate into school with no issues. We also worry about the learning environment and what type of schools we are putting our children in. No parent wants the effects of bullying to be felt by their little ones, or even worse, their little angels being the bullies themselves!

What leads to this bullying? Does it really boil down to the clothes you wear? Does consumerism really influence children? How can we stop it?

Sending your child to a school that requires uniforms is more beneficial to their health as well as your pockets. Poverty levels keep rising because of American consumerism. It is important to know that sending your child to a school that requires uniforms would be the best option for them, and understand how American consumerism is creating poverty and affecting the children living in poverty.

Children are considered “high risk” or vulnerable when it comes to marketing tactics because they do not possess the needed cognitive skills to recognize propaganda and marketing strategies. They are especially vulnerable during early development because this is when socialization occurs (Kennedy, Jones, & Williams, 2019). “Socialization is the process through which people are taught to be proficient members of society” (Conerly 2021, chapter 5, para. 16). Social groups around a child often provide the first experiences of socialization where the child learns how to interact with the world through imitation. We see this in their early years when they play house or kitchen; they are reenacting what they see in the world around them. Since birth they are rewarded for imitating; from learning to wave, eating on their own, etc. With this mindset, being exposed to consumerism makes them vulnerable or at high risk, because they want to imitate what they see without understanding the tactics of propaganda and marketing. Their susceptibility to these tactics increases if the family and friend groups surrounding them also put value in name brands and designer clothing, perpetuating a superiority complex directly related to the clothes people wear.   

There was a study conducted on poverty rates and society for all Americans. It is found that, “Those considered poor today are not poor in the same way that is generally thought; one is poor not simply due to low income but largely due to the fact that this shortage of income means that you are incapable of participation in society based on its norms and values. (Jessel, E., (2007). Not being able to participate in wearing up-to-date fashion clothing will most definitely have a negative effect on your children/child. 

There are several children being bullied every single day. The main reason for bullying is not being able to keep up with the most recent fashion and being made fun of for their clothes. There was a national survey conducted on teens' experience with bullying. “64 percent have been bullied because of their physical appearance, weight, and clothing, more than any other factor,” (Hambrick, G., 2014). Other factors that correlate with high materialism include having low self-esteem and battling both depression and anxiety (Kramer, 2006).

There was a study done in Boston that found a direct link between consumer involvement and the relationship between a child and their parents, with higher levels of consumerism the relationship with the child’s parents became more strained.

This means that kids who do have name-brand and designer clothing are more likely to be uncomfortable with themselves and their self-worth as well, this in turn leads them to lash out and bully others. The main targets include others with more modest clothing so that they can feel better about themselves.

According to Indicators of School Crime and Safety, a report from 2007 issued by the department of education and the department of justice, “60% of students identified as bullies in grades 6 to 9 had at least one criminal conviction by age 24” and “bullies are at even greater risk of suicide than their targets” (Great School’s Staff, 2021). Now we all know the impact bullying has on children and it is massive, but when looking at the statistics you can see that the bullies themselves are suffering as well and perpetuating the grief, to find a resolution we need to start looking at where the problem starts, and I believe it starts with consumerism and materialism that is embedded in every aspect of society surrounding young children.  When looking at the use of uniforms there are drawbacks, people believe that bullies will then find something new to tease other children, and it reduces the ability for a child to express themselves.

To counter that some studies show that it forces children to develop their personality instead of having their clothes speak for them. Although school uniforms do not eliminate bullying altogether, “school intervention programs (which include uniforms) are reported at reducing bullying by 30-50%” (Great School’s Staff, 2021).

Uniforms are not a one-and-done solution to solve the problem, instead, they are a tool or an intervention program implemented by schools to level the playing field and can reduce the levels of bullying, mental health effects on children, and costs to parents with the world having such a high level of consumption which creates more poverty. Putting your child into a school where uniforms are enforced or lobbying your own district to implement uniforms would be more beneficial for the children.

References

Conerly, Tonja R., et al. Introduction to Sociology 3e. Houston, Texas, OpenStax, 2021.

Great School’s Staff. (2021, February 8). What you can do to stop bullying. Great schools. https://www.greatschools.org/gk/articles/stamp-out-bullying/ 

Hambrick, G., (2014) New survey: 83 Percent of teens bullied. Patch https://patch.com/virginia/fairfaxcity/new-survey-83-percent-teens-bullied

Jessel, E., (2007). The relationship between consumerism and poverty. Marked by teachers. https://www.markedbyteachers.com/gcse/religious-studies-philosophy-and-ethics/the-relation-between-consumerism-and-poverty.html

Kennedy, A., Jones, K., & Williams, J. (2019). Children as vulnerable consumers in online environments. Journal of consumer affairs, 53(4), 1478–1506. https://doi-org.starkstate.idm.oclc.org/10.1111/joca.12253 

Kramer, J. B. (2006). Ethical Analysis and Recommended Action in Response to the Dangers Associated With Youth Consumerism. Ethics & Behavior, 16(4), 291–303.https://doi-org.starkstate.idm.oclc.org/10.1207/s15327019eb1604_2

[itstimetowritecl]

OFMD - Use of Thematic Elements That Challenge Toxic Masculinity

I recently finished Our Flag Means Death, and while there are a plethora of things that I could highlight from the writing perspective that are positive, what really stands out is OFMD’s constant, subtle ways in which it challenges toxic masculinity and as byproduct, what it means to be a man.

What made OFMD stand out to me was the manner in which it subtly challenged toxic masculinity by using strong narrative techniques interwoven into the plot and character development. Below are four main execution examples of how the writers did this - casting, character development, scenery dialogue, and limiting the heteronormative lens.

Diversity in Representation - Through Casting Choices

There is diversity in body types and racial representation within the OFMD crew, and not those that simply meet the ‘ideal man’ that we often see in fantasy pirate shows. Many of the cast is queer and deviates from said ideal man. For example, men with larger body weight and/or softness to their bodies are not used for laughs and are allowed to have meaningful roles and relationships, such as Oluwande, a larger-sized black man who has blossoming relationship with Jim, and is seen as a competent, loyal crew member who is capable of handling any situation you throw at them.

We also see this in the queer identification of many characters, going beyond black and white definitions of either you are straight or not. Jim, who uses they/them pronouns in the show, is a great non-binary representation since they don’t fall into the typical stereotypes in media regarding non-binary people, instead is a dynamic character who is not defined their sexuality and grows in their development in their quest for revenge. Jim starts to unravel their desire for revenge as their initial desire to kill wanes over the season as they open up and show vulnerability to others.

By the way, the crew’s queerness is also historically accurate. Pirates were actually quite queer and a lot of understanding has been skewed since most shows with a pirate cast or theme are casted very heteronormative and able-bodied (Ed btw is not able-bodied, he has a mobility aid - a knee brace).

Promotion of Vulnerability - Through Character Development

Vulnerability, and the willingness to allow male characters to exhibit such is done well. In OFMD, men are not chastised or seen as weak by demonstrating any sort of vulnerable emotions. This is not the case with the crew members, as they themselves despite the risk and violence in their profession, do not look down upon vulnerability. Lucius and Black Pete’s relationship is a great example of finding calm within each other to let go of ‘revenge’ and ‘anger.’

You can think of their ship as a metaphor for escaping toxic masculinity and delving into uncharted waters of what a society could like without the shackles of toxic masculinity anchoring us down at the dock. All of these crewmembers challenge this through their development, but none is more compelling than Stede. He literally is living that story and finding himself through a lens that is not smudged by toxic masculinity.

Stede leaves behind a normal life of a wife and children that a proper gentleman should have, which includes the normalization of violence we still see today. He mentions having a “mental devastation” of witnessing violence as the primer that welcomes him to the show. But his character arc and relationship with Ed and the crew shows how mental health and challenging notions of who we ‘should be’ demonstrates that is okay to not fit the ‘norms’ of how men should behave, and also that we should challenge this notion of finding violence to be glorified. It is okay for men to feel worry, to open up about sensitive topics, and certainly cry.

Acceptance of Others - Through Scenery Dialogue

Acceptance of others is a huge thematic arc in OFMD. Shutting down homophobia, as an example often perpetuated by toxic masculinity, is treated as we should strive for. Blackbeard’s first mate Izzy Hands found his bigotry and bullying denounced. Right away, the tone is set that homophobia is not only unacceptable, but also should be rightful denounced, especially those that are rooted in toxic masculinity. Izzy is stripped of his duties to demonstrate how important it is reject such notions.

All of the pirates are accepted without question. You see this through the specific dialogue between characters, including their traumas. “If someone returns from the raid mentally devastated, we talk it through as a crew,” is a rhyme spoken by Stede but speaks to the importance of the group being able to open up to each other. There is also the acceptance of belonging, such as Ed not feeling worthy of wearing a fancy handkerchief, to which Stede responds with “Look at that. You wear fine things well.”

Another example is the challenge in finding acceptance, even within ourselves. Ed’s comment regarding “Blackbeard always wins - that’s the thing, he can’t fail. Its not even a challenge anymore,” isn’t just a boredom with life, but rather hints at the face he’s just treading water and needs a new start, which requires self-acceptance he hasn’t quite addressed. There is also a wonderful comment that Spanish Jackie makes: “All The Revenge, And Rage, And Anger, It Ages You,” which really gets through to Jim and also speaks to a development about herself. It is these small moments in the dialogue that speak to this theme.

Rejecting the Heteronormative Lens - Through Camera Focus

Finally what I found refreshing about the growing relationships between characters is that their development was not rooted in hypersexualization like unfortunately a good number of MLM relationships are. You can spot this problem in both written and video mediums by comparing this kind of relationship to heterosexual ones - queer-based relationships often focus primarily on the fact they are having sex, and are treated as a spot on the pseudowoke bingo. And when characters engage in sex, it is not treated as shocking, scandalous, or sinful, the three woes of non-heterosexual relationships.

The standout element of OFMD relationships is that the emotional aspects of the relationships are built upon prior to the physical, taking away a lens that would limit the impact it has on viewers who can relate. When a queer relationship is under the hetereonormative lens, the consequences are that the relationship is portrayed under the guise of either comedy, gratification, or derision from toxic masculinity. Instead, we find Oluwande and Jim are hoping to overcome mental barriers closing off their hearts, Stede and Ed have a mutual need for acceptance and change, and Black Pete and Lucius need someone to simply understand.

How OFMD challenges the heteronormative lens is by using a camera focus that focuses on details of care and affection unrelated to sexuality. An example is the camera panning in on the hands of Ed and Stede during pivotal moments, specifically, their slow but growing desire for physical affection and allowing themselves growing intimacy. Little things such as Ed grabbing Stede’s hand when the latter is covering in the bed from injury, Stede using his hands to set Ed’s handkerchief in a pocket, and the constant affections of hands when they kiss (this is really evident with facial touches). Hands, in this case, represent the vulnerability of reaching out and the vulnerability of accepting.

[the32ndbeat]

𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣.𝐲𝐧 - [ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟛 ]

pairing: stalker!jaehyun x fem!reader ( ft twice’s tzuyu, loona’s haseul )

word count: 2.4k

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual harassment, mature themes, mentions of drugs, smoking, extreme views, misogyny, yandere themes

a/n: unedited! it’s been forever since I updated this but also considering if I should turn this into a tbz series at my tbz writing blog so we’ll see how this goes.

taglist: I don’t have one yet and I’m seeing how this does since I’m thinking whether I should convert it into a tbz series. Please do lemme know if you guys want to see this continued!

disclaimer: everything written here is FICTIONAL and I am in no way saying that the mentioned characters act like that irl!

masterlist  

(inspired by netflix’s you and the book of the same name by caroline kepnes)

The first thing that registers in my mind is how fucking loud this place is. Seriously, what is it with college parties and their inherent need to blast music loud enough to wake the entire neighbourhood within a five mile radius? Before I even step within the premises or even make it to the front yard, the whole fraternity house seemed to shake from the loudness of the bass-boosted music when viewed from a distance away. I even had to squint as I approach, the strings of fluorescent party lights draped all over the place glowing so brightly it almost hurt to look straight.

A few drunk college frat boys stumble past me, their hair sticky and messy with sweat and their breaths reeking of cheap alcohol. Their steps are wobbly and I can even see drool and remnants of vomit hanging at the corner of their mouths. My heart clenches with pure disgust and I grit my teeth as I watch them laugh out loud over nothing, their brains a pink, unintelligent mush in their skulls, probably rotted by endless drinking and fucking. All part of the college frat experience.

I wonder if they enjoy being a complete waste of space while wasting mummy and daddy’s money to put them through college.

I look away and ignore the growing irritation in me. This is the sort of party your friends wanted you to go with them to? I thought your friends were bad influences but scratch that, they’re fucking horrible. They taint you, taint your innocence and put you at risk around such dangerous men who do not deserve to be even a mile within your presence. As I walk closer, the house looks even more hideous up close.

It’s decorated in the worst way I’ve seen a house decorated. It’s as if someone threw a bunch of random fairy lights bought in the brightest, blinding neon colours that simply do not go together over a sloppy looking house and the front yard is littered with empty, red plastic cups and is that a discarded bra I see over there?

I tiptoe over the trash laying around on the grass and try to avoid the gyrating bodies of college students who clearly have no sense of rhythm. My skin feels grimy within just a few minutes of being here and I can’t wait to leave but there is no way I’m leaving when I know that you will be here. The thought of you being surrounded by such vermins makes me sick to the stomach and I want to get you out of here. The only place you should rightfully be, is at my place where there are no revolting men who only love to drink cheap alcohol, party till sunrise, get high off smoking a blunt, yell ‘turn up!’ every few minutes as if it’s muscle memory in their tiny, almost non-existent brains and do anything but be a productive member of society.

As I push through the double doors, the nauseating smell containing a mixture of intoxicating alcohol, smoke and cheap cologne almost knocks me backwards. My hand grips tighter to the wooden door and I force myself in. Inside, the house is dim but bright at the same time with disco and laser lights. A massive boombox and a pair of equally large loudspeakers sit at the corner of the room and some hip hop tune is being played while people dance and drink and smoke to their hearts’ delight. You’d never believe these kids were supposed to be the future.

Oh, how disappointed their parents must be.

A girl in skimpy shorts and a tube top looks at me with unadulterated want and beckoning in her eyes while staring at the varsity jacket I’m wearing, no doubt replaying fantasies of fucking a college athlete in her mind and trying to guess which sport I supposedly play. I gaze blankly at them before turning away and I can see her shift from the corner of my eye, obviously bothered by the lack of attention. It’s like I can almost see the gears whirring in her brain. Did she not show enough cleavage? Is more skin needed to get my attention? Sometimes people are so predictable and readable that it’s almost pathetic.

Other times, I might have lowered my standards and settled for a casual fuck with someone like that but not today. Today, I’m a man on a mission. A mission to look out for you.

My eyes scan the room but it’s too dim to see anything within four feet in any direction. The flashing lights threaten to overwhelm me along with the stink of the place and booming music and I can feel my annoyance evolving into anger. I repress the urge to slap the shit out of a guy in a red bandana who screams ‘turn up’ all of sudden, practically effectively bursting my eardrums.

I almost bump into a couple eating each other’s faces out when someone yells out at me.

“Hey, you!”

The music is so loud that I almost don’t hear it. I whip around and sure enough, it’s tube top girl making her way over to me. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Not only do I have to find and save you from this sleazy place and have to squeeze in with a crowd of sweaty, brainless college kids who know nothing but party in a tiny, dirty, smelly frat house but now I also have tube top girl hot on my heels?

The things I do for you, y/n and we haven’t even properly gotten to know each other yet.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Tube top girl smiles and up close, I can see that her mascara is smudged and her hair is slicked back with an unholy amount of gel into a tight little bun which only makes her face look wider and her forehead exposed with a sheen of sweat covering it. Her lipstick is reapplied and I know for a fact that she has done it to impress me. Her top is also inched a little lower, as if that makes her anymore appealing.

I smile in a dismissive way, in a way that showed that I cared, but not really.

“Hey,” I reply flippantly.

“Crazy party huh?” She grins, satisfied that she’s got my attention now. Women.

I let my eyes drift to her breasts and look back up at her expectant, puppy dog eyes that are so eager to please it’s actually embarrassing.

“Yeah.”

“What’s your name? I’m Meg.”

“I’m Jaehyun.”

“You part of any sports team in school?” And just like that I know that tube top girl must have had fantasies of fucking a college athlete.

So predictable.

“Yeah, I’m on the swim team.” I say and her smile widens, a playfulness in her eyes as she leans her chest in closer in what was meant to be a sexy gesture.

“Oh, is that so? I’ve never really talked to a competitive swimmer before,” she replies in a sultry voice and I smirk.

“Well, here I am. Am I every bit of the guy you imagined a college swimmer to be?” I whisper in an equally sultry voice. Let her think she has me wrapped around her finger. It’s easier that way. Better for her to think I’m enthralled with her and her breasts than let her cling onto me the entire night.

“Mhm,” she says, “of course.”

I’m about to reply when something catches my eye. From the window, I see you and your friends stumbling and swaying down the sidewalk, away from the party. Internally, I feel my rage simmering again but not at anyone. At myself.

How was I so late that I didn’t manage to stop this from happening? How are you already drunk? How did this happen?

A million questions are racing through my mind and my vision almost blurs with white hot anger as I imagine a slimy frat guy placing his greasy hands on you while you sit there, drunk and uninhibited in that dress that seemed to accentuate your every single curve. You look simply gorgeous in that dress and I fucking hate to think that other guys in this whole house may have made a pass at you. Why was I so late? Would I have been just a little bit earlier if tube top Meg didn’t stop me? I should have left the moment she decided to strike up conversation. This is my karma for letting other temptations get in the way. I vow to myself that this will never happen again as I extricate myself away from Meg’s clutches (“Hey! Where are you going?” She calls out and I ignore her).

I shove people out of the way and do not care for their protests and yelps. Fuck them and fuck this entire shithole of a house. I scramble through the door and maintain my distance as I follow you and your friends down the pavement and past the buildings within the campus. I watch and cringe as you seem to crumple under the weight of your friends’ arm and quickly realise that you aren’t drunk. Your friends are. Stupidly drunk.

I feel my heart relax and my stomach unclench. Of course, you wouldn’t be. You are good. And smart. Too smart to get drunk in a place like that. You know what are the risks and you are above such parties. Your friends though, I couldn’t say the same. Which brings me back to why you need better friends but that’s besides the point. I can see a few guys hanging at the other side of the street who leer at the group of you, clearly getting their dick hard at the thought of a group of vulnerable girls roaming these empty streets at night.

It’s dangerous. But that’s what I’m here for. They see me next and they look away.

I will do what I can to protect you, y/n. Even if that means protecting your good for nothing friends in the process.

All of a sudden, I see you trip and it’s like everything is in slow motion. You fall forward and I take long strides over, my legs stretching out and rushing to help you. Before your knees can hit the rough ground, I have you in my arms, encircled around your waist as I hold you up. I have your other friend, Haseul upright with my other hand tugging at the collar of her jacket. Your friend Tzuyu is not so fortunate and falls flat but she barely notices it, smiling tipsily to herself instead.

You glance up at me with those large eyes and I could get lost in them right there and then. But as quickly as we have our moment, you move away and I see a hint of suspicion in your eyes. We separate and the moment you extract yourself from my arms, I already want you back. Your touch feels addictive already. What have you done to me?

“Thanks.” You say curtly and I admire the fact that you have boundaries, not like Meg. You are hard to get and that’s what makes you so appealing. You are to be earned and respected.

You help Tzuyu to her feet and as you turn to leave with your friends, I call out, “is there any way I can help?”

You regard me with caution and open your mouth to reject me but then suddenly, the tenseness in your eyes relax.

“Do I know you?”

You remember me. Halle-fucking-lujah! I want to wrap you in my arms again but I play it cool.

“I… don’t…?”

Your eyes grow wide and the recognition seeps in.

“Wait! You’re from that hardware store right? Jaehyun?”

I pretend to be surprised when I’m actually fucking overjoyed.

“Yeah, wait… You’re that girl with the rope right?”

You laugh and it’s the most melodious thing I’ve ever heard in forever.

“Yup, that’s me. Kind of mortified that’s how you remember me but sure,” you say and your eyes twinkle but then you continue with a more subdued tone, “what are you doing here?”

I pat my chest good-naturedly.

“Friend of mine is a student here. I just came over to visit and he gave me his varsity jacket so I could try feeling like a college student for once. Never been to college so… yeah. I thought I’d like to try it out for fun.” I reply and shoot you an awkward smile, the kind you do when you try to get someone to favour you and think of you as ‘adorable’.

It works and you smile gently.

“That’s pretty cool, you’ve got a good friend.”

And you haven’t, I think but don’t say.

I gesture towards you and your friends.

“Need any help?”

You look at your drunken friends and back at me and I sense you thinking. Finally, you decide that you do need my help and chuckle, “We live right at that block over there and I think I might die halfway there. I’m not fit enough to hold 2 people.”

That’s so like you. So compassionate over friends who clearly didn’t give a shit that you didn’t want to go to some god forsaken party, so caring over friends who get drunk and don’t take responsibility, so helpful to take care of friends who literally do not give a fuck about you. You are not beautiful on the outside but on the inside too and as I loop Tzuyu’s arm over my neck and hold her, I wish I was holding you instead.

We amble over to the front of your block and we part, you thank me and we say our goodbyes and it’s all too soon. I want to be with you for longer, I want us to talk and I want you to invite me to your room but reality is often much less exciting and more boring.

“I’ll see you!” You call out, smiling as I walk away and I wave back, my heart soaring.

Today is a good day, I think and as I round the corner to the next street, I slip the keycard out of my pocket and feel the hard plastic under my finger.

Wasn’t difficult honestly. Your friends should really learn to keep their valuables in safe places, not the back pocket of their jeans.

[random-thought-depository]

Tangent from my last post: reading over this and thinking about it, I’ve pinpointed a disagreement that I think reveals a fundamental disagreement I have with the ideas I was responding to there.

Seph’s essay talks about liberal sexual consent practices as requiring a shift toward a more Culture A style of social interaction; requiring a willingness to actively assert your own interests instead of engaging in Culture B accommodationism. And that’s true, but I immediately recognized that it’s incomplete in a way that I think fundamentally distorts what’s happening, though it took me a while to think out exactly how. Saying “no” involves a degree of Culture A type assertiveness, but respecting that “no” and pro-actively making sure your partner is enjoying things involves an attentiveness to feelings, an accommodationism, and an attentiveness to maintaining harmony that’s more Culture B.

Like, if you drew up two columns, one labeled “Macho Republican Dad Boomerpost Stuff” and one labeled “Softy SJW Stuff,” and started sorting things into those columns by which group they’re more stereotypically associated with (bacon, guns, capitalism, Christianity, complaining about “cancel culture,” and calling people sissies as an insult into the Republican Dad column, tofu, queerness, feminism, socialism, veganism, accusing people of microaggressions, and being a Wiccan into the SJW column, etc.), I think liberal sexual norms placing a high premium on explicit consent would definitely stereotypically belong in the “SJW” column. And in this context I think that’s revealing.

I think what’s happening here is fundamentally orthogonal to Culture A vs. Culture B. I think, like a lot of left vs. right divides, it fundamentally comes down to hierarchy vs. egalitarianism. Liberal sexual norms emphasizing consent are a rejection of the pecking order method of simply resolving sexual conflicts of interests in favor of the person with more power, whether that power is social status, physical strength, emotional intelligence, or just being more willing to press for their interests. Culture A vs. Culture B is fundamentally orthogonal to what’s really going on here; trying to understanding this issue through that lens is at best like trying to understand the US Civil War through the lens of doctrinal disputes between different types of Christianity (you may get some genuine insights, but you’ve mistaken the fringes of the conflict for its core), and at worst like trying to understand the US Civil War through the lens of doctrinal disputes between Sunni and Shia Islam.

Actually I think the “trying to understand the US Civil War through the lens of Christian doctrine disputes” may be a good analogy, because I think this does tie back to the “the left/liberal side of the culture war is waging a war against Culture A” hypothesis in a way that reveals how that idea is not exactly wrong but misses an important dimension of what’s happening. I think what’s happening is that hierarchy is more explicit and explicitly enforced in Culture A, and therefore as society becomes less like a pecking order hierarchy tends to assume Culture B characteristics.

Culture A is where you find the human hierarchies that look the most like actual pecking orders, which are maintained by literal physical pecking. It’s where you find the openly brutal world of bosses screaming “the leads aren’t weak, you are!” into a cringing subordinate’s face, cops quietly taking an uncooperative suspect into a convenient alley and roughing him up a little to “teach him to respect our authority,” gangsters beating somebody up for being insufficiently deferential to them, some 6′3 250 pound guy in the grips of road rage punching some 5′7 150 pound guy in the face over a smashed bumper, teachers disciplining students by giving them hard blows on the palm with a ruler, a swaggering thug threatening a woman with physical violence because she had the effrontery to object to him groping her, and jocks having some fun inflicting casual physical abuse on the nerds in the locker room and on the playground. Hierarchies in Culture A are often maintained by physical violence and the threat thereof and put-downs and other explicit verbal bullying. When somebody in Culture A thinks you’ve gotten a bit above your station and wants to put your in your place, they’re likely to either actually use physical violence against you, explicitly threaten you with it, or explicitly insult you. Abuse in Culture A tends to look like our stereotypical picture of some swaggering thug openly terrorizing somebody who has some sort of vulnerability.

By contrast, hierarchies in Culture B tend to operate under more polite fictions of relative egalitarianism, cooperativeness, and non-violence. Enforcement of Culture B hierarchies tends to be less overtly violent. Culture B hierarchies are more likely to be covert and legible only to somebody with inside knowledge (e.g. you’ve ostensibly got a group of equals, but some are more equal than others because of advantages that mostly aren’t explicitly acknowledged). Culture B tends to have more of an ideal that coercive power can only be legitimately exercised for moral reasons, while Culture A tends to have more of a “master morality” culture where power is seen as worthy of respect in itself (Culture A is what gave us “Chad” and “alpha” as aspirational ideals), which is why bullying in Culture B tends to have a moralistic and fearmongering nature (see: Tumblr call-out posts) while bullying in Culture A tends to follow a more “master morality” logic of “our victim is weak and aesthetically displeasing to us, and that in itself makes them deserve punishment” - though much like “Culture A rewards strength and technical skills, Culture B rewards social skills and popularity” that’s a dichotomy that can easily be overplayed; most human hierarchies come with a hefty dose of community-minded moralism (even if the community is a pirate ship or criminal gang or something like that), and social skills and popularity are hugely important in almost any culture. Culture B is for people who wouldn’t dream of doing anything so barbaric as yelling at you or punching you because they’re mad at you; they’d complain to the human resources department who’d force you to spend a Friday evening listening to somebody lecture you about the need to “make our store a welcoming environment for our valued customers.”

An archetypal abusive Culture A authority figure is the macho thuggish “respect mah authoritay!” cop. An archetypal abusive Culture B authority figure is the gaslighty Nice Lady Therapist. The former is more-or-less open about the fact that he sees himself as above you in the pecking order and if you dispute that he’ll be delighted to enforce the pecking order in approximately the way chickens do it. The latter pretends to be your friend (and perhaps believes themselves to be that), and expends a great deal of effort tailoring their pecking order enforcement to not look like pecking order enforcement - significantly, they might like to be as openly brutal as the “respect mah authoritay!” cop is, but in strong Culture B that social strategy just doesn’t work; their social strategy represents a compromise with socially influential ideals of egalitarianism and non-violence, a tribute that vice pays to virtue (less charitably, it may simply reflect playing to different strengths and trying to minimize different weaknesses, e.g. the thuggish cop may have chosen that social strategy because he’s a physically powerful but not particularly socially intelligent Biff Tannen type, while the Nice Lady Therapist may have chosen that social strategy because she’s a socially intelligent and Machiavellian but physically feeble 4′10 woman).

In short, Culture B tends to both meaningfully soften the blows of pecking order enforcement and obfuscate them. It follows that as equalizing movements gain ground and explicit pecking order logic becomes more taboo, hierarchy will increasingly take on Culture B characteristics. In 1700, if you angered your boss in some petty interpersonal way he might have whipped you, which was his right as your master. Today, if you anger your boss in some petty interpersonal way she might think a little about how to get revenge on you in a way that doesn’t risk blowback if you take it up with the union, and then find some excuse to arrange for you to have to attend some mandatory HR remedial training that isn’t officially a punishment but let’s be real, totally is. Maybe in 2200 you won’t have a boss because you’ll work in an officially egalitarian syndicalist union, but there will be some union members who are “more equal than others” because of personal connections or charisma or some combination of both, and if you anger one of them in a petty interpersonal way they might through whisper networks arrange a quiet campaign to make sure the union votes against your requests for your favorite foods on the workplace lunch menu.

I guess I’m staking out a position as a hedging kind-of partisan of Culture B here. There’s a lot of talk about how Culture B gets an undeserved good reputation and can be just as unfair and cruel as Culture A but in a more insidious way, and I’m sympathetic to that and I think there’s a lot of truth to that, but, y’know, if I had to choose between pecking order enforcement that has to maintain a plausible veneer of being something else and just open undiluted sadistic pecking order enforcement, I think I’d prefer the former. I think even just adding in a requirement of hypocrisy improves things, because it forces pecking order enforcement to optimize for plausible deniability instead of sadism and effective tyranny. Admittedly, as somebody who finds this very relatable I have a strong personal bias here.

An illustrative personal anecdote: the usual stereotype of high school is that bullied kids (or at least bullied boys) suffer a lot of casual physical abuse, but I noticed that in my school there was a lot of verbal bullying but mercifully little physical abuse; the worst that was likely to happen in terms of physical violence was somebody tripping you up or throwing a box of kleenix at you or spitting their drink at you or something like that. I suspect the reason was that blatant physical violence was pretty much the only form of bullying the school administration would reliably punish (though they’d likely punish the victim right along with the perpetrator), and that’s why it usually wasn’t done. I suspect what happened is that stereotype of chronic casual physical abuse reflects what schools were like when the baby boomers were growing up (and boomers then wrote fiction etc. that reflected that experience that shaped the pop culture stereotype), but then anti-bullying reforms came along and by the late ‘90s and early ‘00s they’d achieved one great success: mostly eliminating that schoolyard culture of casual physical violence. And that was a very incomplete fix, just addressing the tip of the iceberg of the problem and probably often redirecting bullying into psychological abuse rather than actually reducing it... but, y’know, I’m really glad my middle and high school experience didn’t conform to that pop culture stereotype of the school dweeb getting regularly beaten up by four or six bigger kids. I had an awful time in middle and high school, but judging from pop culture stereotypes it could have been so much worse, and if suspensions for kids who punched other kids is what created that difference, then I’m profoundly grateful for that reform.

I think the left is kinda-sorta waging war on Culture A as a side-effect of its war on pecking order culture, in which high-status people enjoy the advantages of Culture A while low-status people labor under the disadvantages of Culture B. It’s not an accident that Culture A is associated with men and Culture B is associated with women. Accommodation (sometimes to the point of self-harm) is a survival strategy for low-status people in a social structure that resembles a pecking order; if you’re going to lose the fight, it often makes sense to pre-emptively accept a settlement that favors the interests of the stronger person (often to the extent of trying to anticipate the stronger person’s wants, performing even the brain work of figuring out their preferences for them). Competitiveness is a social strategy for upward mobility in a pecking order society or defense of a place near the top of the pecking order (it also has more pro-social functions so we probably want to keep it around in some form, but social competition is very much part of its function). Women tend to be reluctant to openly advocate for their personal interests because for much of history a woman openly advocating for her personal interests was likely to provoke status-guarding retaliation from men. Men tend to be reluctant to show vulnerability and see doing so as feminine because for much of history other men were likely to perceive a vulnerable man as an opportunity to increase their own social status by lowering the vulnerable man’s social status, and as a rule of thumb to lower a man’s social status was to give him a social status more like a woman’s. In the context of a pecking order society, a lot of Culture B makes sense as social strategies for people at the bottom of the pecking order with little realistic shot of escaping its lower levels, and a lot of Culture A makes sense as social strategies for people at the top of the pecking order and people at the bottom or middle of the pecking order who have a realistic shot at using high-risk high-reward social strategies to move up in the hierarchy. I think there’s some complicating factors around reproductive dynamics that explain why this is a gendered thing instead of just a class thing, but I won’t get into that here. So it makes sense that as society becomes less like a pecking order that process will involve shifts toward Culture A in some areas and shifts toward Culture B in other areas, because those cultures are probably both somewhat maladaptive in a more egalitarian social context.

A relevant example is that for much of history vigorously advocating their own sexual interests was often very risky for women, so Culture B primes women to pre-emptively accept a settlement that favors the man’s sexual interests, so liberal consent norms work better if women develop more assertiveness about their own interests, which looks kind of Culture A-ish. At the same time, women now have more leverage to effectively demand that men perform pro-social Culture B behaviors of accommodation, empathy, and consideration for the feelings and interests of others in the context of heterosexual sex.

----------

Tangential aside: I think thinking of hierarchy as the fundamental tension point of the left vs. right conflict illustrates a way that post I was responding to might be kind of too meta and you might get an illuminating perspective by stepping back from all that meta-level theorizing about fundamental epistemological differences and looking at the object level.

If you analyze left-wing “cancel culture” at the object level, what does it look like it’s trying to do? It seems to me that it’s trying to lower the social acceptability of what leftists perceive as defenses of hierarchy. Who are the stereotypical targets of campus “cancel culture”? They might be a “race realist” who’s very eager to tell you about how he thinks certain human groups have lower IQs or other congenital traits maladaptive to modern society and darkly hint about political implications. They might be a business libertarian economist who wants to stump for the gospel of the free market. They might be somebody who has a habit of delivering the academic equivalent of boomerposts about kids these days with their coddling and their trigger warnings and their genders. They might be some principled “free speech” type who seems to spend a lot of their energy white knighting for neo-Nazis and other far-right types. They might be somebody who you’d think would be relatively unobjectionable to leftists but who’s said something that can be uncharitably interpreted as bigoted at some point. Besides raw factionalism, the obvious common point is something that can be reasonably interpreted as a defense of hierarchy. The “race realist” at least implicitly says “some groups are smarter or otherwise better than others and may therefore be rightfully deserving of privilege.” The business libertarian economist at least implicitly says “if you’re poor because you can’t get a job or can’t get a job that pays well, that’s basically your problem and the system working as intended; a society with great inequalities of wealth and status may not be ideal but it’s at least better than all the realistic alternatives.” The academic boomerposter at least implicitly says “some people struggle in our education system because of personal emotional sensitivities; their weakness is their own problem and us more functional people have no obligation to accommodate it, if that harms them it may be regrettable but it’s basically the system working as it should to weed out those unfit for it.” The principled free speech proponent at least implicitly says “wanting to kill the Jews and re-enslave the blacks and have white Sharia should be a tolerated opinion in our society, at least insofar as it should not be legally persecuted, and I am willing to devote considerable efforts to defending that principle.” The basically unobjectionable liberal who happens to have a dodgy comment or three in their social media record at least implicitly says “I don’t think I should get too much blowback for once implying that [insert group of concern here] maybe deserves the jackboot to the face.”

And sure, you can dispute the fairness of such judgements, but the over-arching project outlined by these targets seems fairly obvious: to raise the social costs of what leftists perceive as defending pecking orders.

And, like, yeah, there’s some meta-level differences about the role of tolerance and debate too, but I suspect a lot of the disagreement is really more object-level, over how objectionable certain opinions actually are, e.g. a lot of the dispute over “cancelling” the business libertarian guy is probably going to be over 1) how objectionable defense of hierarchy actually is, 2) whether libertarian beliefs are actually defenses of hierarchy.

[disneytva]

Nic Smal and Lucy Heavens Talk About Their Path From Cape Town To Disney’s First South African Creators.

South African creators and executive producers, Lucy Heavens and Nic Smal are behind Disney Television Animation’s upcoming animated buddy-comedy, Kiff, which follows an optimistic squirrel whose best intentions often lead to complete chaos, and her best friend, a sweet and mellow bunny, and was inspired by the people and places the creators experienced growing up in Cape Town. 

They gave some details for the series such as that the show uses a hybrid Toon Boom Harmony and hand-drawn animation

Animation Magazine had a chance to speak with this talented duo during a recent interview:

Can you tell us a little bit about the development history of your new show?

Lucy Heavens: We both always dreamed of having our own show, but it also seemed kind of outlandish and impossible for such a thing to happen to a pair of self-taught South Africans. It wasn’t that long ago that we just had no idea how to pitch a show — to who, where? It was always something reserved for people far away, over there in the U.S.A. But when we met, we were both so desperate for a creative outlet, that working on the idea was wonderful whether it got picked up for development or not. It was its own reward.

Nic Smal: When the series was optioned by Disney (only five short months after we created it) no one was more surprised than us! Development can always be a long road, so we really appreciated the fact that we each had a co-creator to walk that road with, and we poured ourselves into a pilot animatic and animation test. It has been, and continues to be so, so fun! Throughout the process we have found a very collaborative way to work, and the voice of the show really comes alive when we are working together. We have always enjoyed feeding into each other’s primary disciplines in a really productive way. Lucy is a writer who’s an art person.

Lucy: And Nic is an artist (and comedian and musician!) who’s really great at story

When did you two begin working together?

Nic: We met at an animation studio in Cape Town in 2017 and quickly realized we spoke the same comedy language. We have quite different sensibilities, but a very similar sense of humor. There aren’t really any opportunities to work on this kind of comedy in South Africa (as yet!), so we just decided to create a series that would be the most free, fun world for us to sink our teeth into in terms of story and comedy — and just enjoy that process.

What was the inspiration for the show?

Lucy: We really wanted to create a world and a tone that was very free to tell all kinds of stories about being a human; friendships, family, society, frustrations, joys! Ultimately we wanted it to be extremely universal and relatable, filled with rich, flawed characters where we can explore human nature (with talking animals, obviously)! So really the inspiration was: What’s the most perfect vehicle for us to tell endless, and (hopefully) very funny stories? Kiff is the result.

Where is the animation being produced and how many people are working on it?

Nic: Titmouse is the wonderful and amazing studio producing the show.

Lucy: We have a number of team members in both L.A. and New York

Which animation tools are being used by the studio?

Nic: Toon Boom, Storyboard Pro etc. The show uses a hybrid Toon Boom Harmony and hand-drawn animation style, so we can be efficient but also have those sublime, unique moments by pushing key poses and expressions.

Tell us what you love about this show!

Lucy: Every aspect of the show is a joy and a pleasure. Visually, we have poured our love of nature and the natural world surrounding Cape Town into the geography and design. Tonally, it’s a very free space for all kinds of stories to be told. Musically, it is so fun to write songs and play with every musical genre imaginable, and in a way that doesn’t speak down to kids (we write the songs together but Nic is the really accomplished musician). And of course our characters are hilarious to us. We sort of see them as different parts of the human psyche; the lust for life, the sensitive and vulnerable parts of ourselves, the self-centered, ego-driven parts of ourselves — they are all represented, and intersect in interesting ways.

What is your biggest challenge right now?

Nic: Working across three time zones isn’t the most sustainable way to work as showrunners. We’re based in Cape Town and production is happening between L.A. and New York. It is such a collaborative medium; there aren’t enough meeting hours in the day.

What is your take on the global animation scene in 2021?

Lucy: We’ve never been in a more rad time for animation; important, real, existential, funny, rich and beautiful shows for all ages are coming out. There also seems to be a breakdown of the more rigid genres and age groups that you had to target previously, and an understanding that the right audience will be able to find your show on streaming platforms.

Nic: It’s also a time where big broadcasters are taking risks on outsiders like ourselves — thank goodness (and Disney) for that.

Who are your biggest animation heroes/influences?

Lucy: We’re millennials, so we communicate solely via Simpsons references. But we’re also children of 1990s Disney films,  TV and (not animation but) Monty Python as well.

What kind of advice can you offer animation newbies who dream about creating their own show?

Nic: Persistence is the lesson of our lives. Don’t wait for other people to create opportunities for you — just make, create, do!

Lucy: Development is a long road, so make sure you’re making a show that you really want to watch.

Kiff is slated to premiere on Disney Channel in 2023.

.

[prolifeproliberty]

Why don't you think masks protect other people? This "guilt the person into wearing masks" trend is reaching far and wide, but are they wrong? Like one argument is that the virus particles are small enough to pass through mask filters, but then the rebuttal (usa today, "No, N95 filters are not too large to stop COVID-19 particles") claims the opposite. So much opposing info out there.

N95 masks might be effective. But the vast majority of people aren’t wearing those, and it’s not practical to have everyone wear an N95 mask every day everywhere they go.

Especially when you consider how medical masks are intended to be used.

Pre-covid in a hospital setting, masks were used for procedures where there was a risk of disease transmission, with severely immune compromised patients, and with patients known or suspected to have a highly infectious disease.

A doctor or other medical staff member would wash their hands before going in, put gloves on, put the mask on, and then when leaving throw the mask and gloves away and wash their hands again. Or some similar protocol.

That’s not what we’re doing. That’s not practical for people living their every day lives.

Instead, we’re wearing mostly cloth masks or “surgical” masks (most of which aren’t actually surgical grade) for hours at a time, touching them, and reusing them multiple times before throwing them away or washing them (and when washing, we are often not truly sanitizing them).

To have every member of the public use masks the way they are supposed to be used in a medical setting would create a huge amount of waste and entail a huge cost for either individuals or the government (which is then funded by tax-paying individuals)

All of this rests on whether this is necessary. We don’t have randomized controlled trials showing that masks work (we have mathematical models, and a mathematical model can say anything you want it to depending on the assumptions you give it), but even if we did, this is not the plague. It’s not even the Spanish Flu.

We know how it spreads (in close contact with a person in an enclosed space for a prolonged period with or without masks, and usually only with a symptomatic person), and we have a lot of treatments showing promise. We’re even seeing correlations with certain nutrients that could mean the disease is preventable with good nutrition and/or supplementation.

There is no reason to live in fear of this thing. Yes, people have died. People die of flu and common colds every year. In fact, children are much more likely to die of flu than COVID, and we used to only close schools down for flu if a significant percentage of students and staff were out sick.

And yes, we have a flu vaccine, but it really isn’t all that effective and often we end up with strains that weren’t part of that year’s shot going around.

People with severely compromised immune systems can take extra precautions, such as limiting their exposure to crowds, washing their hands, getting their vitamin D (through sunlight, food, or a whole-food D3/K2 supplement), and staying away from people showing symptoms.

What if instead of a $1.9 trillion “rescue package” we spent significantly less providing for immune compromised people who want to isolate and then let everyone else go back to work, school, and above all, normal.

People who want the vaccine can get it, those who don’t can skip it, and as we find and test new treatments and preventative measures we can make sure vulnerable people have access to care when they choose to re-enter society.

[plush-rabbit]

Crushing On An Ex-Yakuza Member

A/N: This ranges more on them realizing that Reader and Overhaul had a past and dealing with it afterwards. Still hope you liked it tho!! 

Shigaraki Tomura:

Tomura is absolutely infatuated with you. He found you annoying at first if he were to be honest but then the more time he spent talking to you he grew fond of you. You listened to him rant, accompanied him to meetings and he doesn’t know. It all just sort of happened. You sat next to him and gave him a smile and he could feel his heart pound against him and his face redden when you offered him a snack. You were cute. And you liked spending time with him- you had said so yourself.

He’s enraged when he finds out that you and Overhaul had a thing- that you two were close- much closer than he could have ever hoped to be with you. But you two aren’t a couple now. Now, you glare at Overhaul and your nails are digging into your palms and you chose to side with the League. You hide behind Tomura and take steps closer to him. He takes this as a win. 

Too many things happen at once and you find yourself unable to breathe. You’re hidden away, and it’s like you can feel his touch on you. It makes you want to peel your skin off- to finally feel clean. Your vision blurs and you dig your nails into the side of your arm, the scratching somewhat grounding you. You blink back the tears, wishing away the pain in the process and when you open your eyes- you’re suddenly staring at red sneakers. 

You look up at Tomura but you can’t meet his eyes, instead choosing to stare at the scar that decorates his lip. He sighs and takes a seat next to you, pale blue hair falling on his shoulders and across his face. It’s silent for a minute, three of his fingers drumming on the table while you try to discreetly wipe the tears away. 

“How high ranking were you in the yakuza?” Ah, always so quick to get to the point. “What happened?” You furrow your brows and he rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh. “How long did you two date?” He meets your eyes and for a brief second you think you see jealousy flash.

“We knew each other for a long time and I have a long past with them,” you sigh and run a hand through your hair, looking down at the table that’s stained with water rings. “So I guess I was pretty high up but security and protocols might have changed since I’ve left so I doubt I have any- uh, you know, special access.” His eyes widen a fraction and he gives you a look to continue. You dip your head down and slump your shoulders. “We dated for-” you narrow your eyes, “it really isn’t important. But we broke up and had a big fight so any bridges left were burned that night.” You can feel your skin crawl. “The only help I can be is telling you the quirks and what could possibly take them down but even then I can’t say for certain. We were all high ranking, but even we didn’t share our weaknesses with each other.”

“But he knows yours.” It isn’t a question, it’s a statement. You nod slowly. “This puts us at a disadvantage, you know.” You feel like you’re being chastised by a teacher and you feel your cheeks burn. “But it’ll work out.”

You perk up and look at him. “Look it’s not that i don’t trust you but this is the yakuza. They have the financial means and the men and not to put the League down but we-” he holds a hand up and you stop talking.

“We have you. You’re the closest thing we have as an advantage over them. You-” his lip curls in disgust- “dated him. You have to know something. The way he lies, mannerisms, anything. You have value- you’re important.” His voice is tight and he looks away. His hair parts and you can see red paint the tips of his ears. 

You blink owlishly at him. Your chuckle starts off light, until it turns to a laugh where you clutch your stomach and your cheeks hurt from smiling. “Am I now?” You ask, through giggles, while he stares at you with a tight expression. “You know, of all the things I’ve been told- I’ve never been told that I was important.” Your laughter fades away, and you smile brightly at him. “Thanks Tomura. You’re important too.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles and  the corner of his lip twitches and he bites it down. He gives you another glane and desperately wishes that he had Father on him. “Wipe the grin off.” He scratches his neck and sighs. “I want to have a meeting with him.” Your mouth pulls into a line. “I’ll be there and so will you. Like I said, you’re valuable.”

“I thought you said important?”

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, his tone is playful and a smile plays on his lips. “We’re gonna take him down a peg. I promise.”

Dabi:

Dabi rather not show feelings. He likes to maintain the persona that he’s this cool guy who’s only ever doing something because he wants to- not because he cares; not because he was once a child who saw the corruption in hero society. 

He acts cocky around you, making sure his flames burn bright and reach the sun itself. He flashes you a smirk when you stare in awe, a glint in his eye when he watches you fight- when he watches you do just about anything. You care for him, making sure he doesn’t bleed from his scarring, mumbling words of comfort and apologises when you snap a staple back in place. He can see tears brim in your eyes and he hates himself for caring.

He does what he does best- he acts detached. He narrows his eyes and curls his lips, he’s not interested in whatever relationship you had with him. He doesn’t care if you cried your eyes out after the break up or if you chose to rebound. He doesn’t care so quit looking at him and trying to get him alone. He isn’t a rebound. Just stop shaking when Overhaul takes a step closer with his hand outreached, telling you to join him again and that everything will be all right- all will be forgiven. But you shake your head and you look a bit pale with eyes focused on his hand.

He seeks you out after any mention of Overhaul. Watches you stiffen and eyes that flicker to the empty spot that Magne once sat in- the void all too consuming and empty all at once. He finds you alone, knees pressed against your chest and tears catch on your eyelashes and you look up at him without embarrassment, just this type of sadness that makes his chest hurt and makes it feel as if he’s intruding on something intimate.

He sits next to you, groaning and sticking a leg out and a knee bent. “Bad break up?” Blue eyes flicker towards you and you look so small, so vulnerable and he has an urge to wrap you in his arms. But he rolls his neck and huffs. “You’ll-”

“He tried using his quirk on me.” His eyes snap open. “He missed- obviously- but he did,” you sound so delicate, as if he were to speak, the air that he breathed out would shatter you. “I just- I thought I had gotten over it. Gotten over that- that,” your voice breaks and you slap your hands over your mouth.

You’re different from him. So open with emotions- so easy to read and ready to give your heart out. He’s cold and puts this facade that he doesn’t care, that he has a million other things to do and this is to just pass the time. But you sit there, sobs breaking from behind your hands and you cry. 

He sighs and throws an arm over you, pulling you close to him and his mouth pulls into a thin line when you bury yourself into him, grasping at his shirt in fistfuls while you shake. “You could do way better anyways.” He risks taking a glance and he can feel his face burn. “He’s a total prick.”

That gets a laugh to bubble out and break your cries. It makes his chest swell with pride. “Yeah, he is,” you sniffle and pull away from him. He already misses your touch even if your hands are still holding onto his shirt. “Dude goes on and on about quirks and he has one and even uses it,” you chuckle and it’s light and short, “you’d think he’d be the first one in line to get rid of his.”

You lean against him and you whisper how he’s warm, your hand resting on your thigh and he’s giving you a questioning look but you miss it, eyes closed and breathing slowing down. 

“I’m not your mattress, you know.” His voice is steady, quiet and barely above a whisper, and it breaks the silence that was growing. 

You hum and your hand reaches over. “Humor me this once Dabi,” you whisper, holding Dabi’s hand in yours, smiling when he scoffs in response but makes no motion to move.

Twice:

You treat him like a person- you’re soft around him, nudging him with lame attempts at jokes and you take care of him when he spirals. He was going to develop feelings- he just didn’t think the feelings to be so much. So overwhelming. Everything about you was something he hadn’t felt in so long and when you give it to him, he wants more- he can’t stop wanting more and seeking you out.

Figuring out that you dated Overhaul is a kick in the groin for him. It makes him sick, unable to think properly and your touch burns him. Were you using him? No, that doesn’t make any sense. Yes it does. No- it doesn’t. You’re too nice to be doing that. Learned all types of stuff about him and even showed him the one flaw that you have- a direct way to take you out. You wouldn’t have done that if you were using him. You did that because you trusted him.

He’s breaking silently, he can feel the stitches that hold him together by literal threads rip and fall away. He’s spiraling and he doesn’t know how to come back from this type of hurt. He can’t bring himself to open his mouth and make a sound- a cry for help, of pain- anything. He’s clutching his head so hard he's partially afraid hes going to crush it in his grip and he just wants this to end. 

Why you? Why? You’re hurting him- you’re the one making him suffer. But then why does he want you to be here? Why does he need you right now? Why is his hand reaching towards the door? Why are you standing there with a terrified look in your eyes? Why are you holding him and telling him to focus on your voice?

“It’s okay Jin, it’s okay. You’re here. You’re whole. You’re okay.” You keep repeating the words, your lips brushing against his ear. The words spill out of your mouth, a prayer told and whispered to him and only him. 

You pull him out of this spiral and when he angles his head until it’s pressed against the crook of your neck, he can feel the rhythmic beating in your neck, how you’re still alive and whole. You’re holding him right now, the door closed and right now, it’s only you two, and he moves his hands. His eyes widen when they’re clenching your shirt, the fabric is cheap and tears in his hands. 

“Sorry about your shirt,” he mumbles, lips wet as they brush against your skin. He can feel goosebumps raise in response. “I’ll uh- I’ll get you a new one," his tone changes slightly but it still sounds tired. “Maybe.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble. “It was old anyways.” Your hands are scratching his back, dull nails that make light tremors resonate in his body. “Are you feeling better? The floor can’t be comfortable.” You nuzzle into him and your hands slide from his back to his sides. “Come Jin, let’s get you to bed.”

He’s curled in bed, a hand rubbing constant, never ending circles on his back and he’s pressed against your chest, his hand pressing against your back. He feels safe. Right now, he’s here, he’s okay and safe in your arms. He thinks that he can fall asleep here but he doesn’t want to miss a moment when you’re here, when you’re telling him the softest things and kissing the tip of his scar. 

“Do you miss him?” He regrets the question when it leaves his mouth and wants to bite his tongue off when he feels you tense, your hands stopping for a second before resuming their motions.

“No. I’m happy I ended it with him. He wasn’t great, you know. A real jackass.” You kiss his scar and he melts further into your touch. “He wasn’t all that fun or nice like you.” Your words are tight and your leg shifts to go in between his. “You’re a lot better, you know?” He nods numbly and holds you tight in response.

He sleeps in your arms. His heart beats slow and steady and the tears have dried and every pain that he felt has melted away, washed away by your delicate touch. He wakes up and he allows himself to bask in your presence, to feign sleep until you awake.

Mr. Compress:

Atsuhiro is absolutely smitten with you. You’re talented, stunning, and not to mention you have an extensive knowledge on the underground workings and their part of society? He’s practically glued to your side when you two are in the same room together. But then you two meet Overhaul and he loses his arm and Magne. And then Overhaul talks directly to you and his words are laced with disgust and by the words he chooses, Compress is sure that something went on with the two of you.

Learning that you had dated the same man who not only destroyed his arm but also murdered Magne messes him a bit. His demeanor around you changes a bit. He’s still eager around you but it comes off a bit forced or not as eager as it once was. He’s not one to be overly paranoid but he is around you. When you came over and talked to him- when you laughed at his jokes- when he tried to make a barrier between you and Overhaul even as his arm was gushing blood and his vision was growing darker- did it all mean nothing? Was it a ruse that you put on?

You’re the one to find him first- to nervously tap your foot and take a seat beside him. He’s changed- that much you can realize. His arm is missing so you can’t really fault him for that. Plus, Magne is gone and she was the big sister of the group- protective, caring and she’s gone too. 

“How’s your- you know?” You gesture to his arm, unable to properly say the word and you kick yourself for it. Your-”

“Hurts.” His chocolate eyes meet yours. “It’s like I can still feel it sometimes.” He tilts his head back and closes his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, looking away. “I- I didn’t know that you were inviting Overhaul. If I-”

“You two dated?” He’s looking at you directly and you can only nod your head and fiddle with the drawstrings from your hoodie. “Why did-”

You shrug. “He was cute. We were all close. He wasn’t so bad until his ideals started to get all gross,” you shake your head and sigh, “I wanted quirks to be free, you know use your quirks as long as you aren’t killing anybody but he wants quirks to be eradicated. Funny, right? The guy who shits on quirks has one?” You laugh bitterly. “He’s- When we broke up- I uh, I called it off by the way- he got so angry,” you swallow thickly, “he tried it, you know? Using his quirk on me. But I’m faster than him so he missed. Barely.”

He looks at you and his eyes are wide. His mouth is agape and he looks you over. “He-” you nod. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to be. I just thought I’d share. Bonding or whatever,” you flash him a hesitant smile. “I don’t like how distant you’ve been and I thought this little piece of information would help smooth it over.”

He can feel his cheeks burn. You could tell that he was being distant. And you disliked that. You came over and told him something very personal and all he can do is look down at his lap. He’s sitting here like an absolute fool- think! Just say something!

“Atsuhiro?” He perks up and looks at you. “I’ll see you around, hm?” He nods mutely. Your smile is gentle and as you rise. You turn away to leave but pause mid way. You look at him and clear your throat. You bend over and peck his cheek. “Good night.” 

Once he’s sure you’re gone, he buries his face in his hands, and he’s giddy. A wide grin breaks out and his heart beats erratically in his chest. You kissed him.

[natromanxoff]

(Translated by translators so obviously, there might be mistakes. You can see the original article in German here)

"We all miss Freddie Mercury"

By Michael Loesl

The album The Cosmos Rocks (Capitol) has just been released. Here, the band combines knowledge of astrophysics, which their guitarist Brian May brings in as a doctoral academic, with the preferences of their new singer for classical blues rock. All too clear echoes of the band Queen of the Seventies and Eighties are avoided as much as possible.

WELT ONLINE: Mr. May, as a doctor of astrophysics, don't you know that the cosmos vibrates rather than rocks?

Brian May: The completion of my doctoral thesis was actually planned for 1970. But then my career in a rock band got in the way. It wasn't until the 2005 tour that I came to give structure to my old notes. Since it seemed a little absurd to all of us that a rock guy like me obtained his doctorate at the age of 60, the tongue-in-cheek title seemed appropriate to the new album.

WELT ONLINE: Isn't it also absurd that two quarters of Queen have retained the band name in a completely different constellation?

Roger Taylor: We have been thinking about exactly this circumstance for a long time. Queen in the true sense of the word can no longer exist without Freddie Mercury and John Deacon. But if we had given ourselves a new name together with Paul Rodgers, our fans would probably still be wondering what the two still active Queen members May and Taylor actually do.

WELT ONLINE: Why is John Deacon no longer there?

May: We sent him the new album, but he didn't respond, which is a good sign. If something does not please him, he will let us know immediately by phone. He lets us grant and speaks to our accountants rather than to us. Presumably, Queen doesn't make sense to him without Freddie.

WELT ONLINE: You actually miss the courage to ridicule on your new album.

Taylor: Of course, because we all miss him. There are no persiflages in it that have partly led to obviously ridiculous things in the past. But I wouldn't call it humorless anyway.

WELT ONLINE: Did Freddie Mercury's singing make the ironic breaks in pompous rock possible in the first place?

Taylor: No one could and cannot place baroque vocal harmonies like him. I think that not only his singing, but his whole personality has triggered a form of artistic risk appetite in us three others. For example, he first gave me the courage to write a song like "Radio Ga Ga", which was originally called "Radio Kacka".

WELT ONLINE: But Queen and Paul Rodgers in the frocks will not be seen?

May: That one can definitely be happy about. Men over 60 in women's clothes cause pain in the eye of the beholder. But seriously: without Freddie we can no longer use certain ingredients of the original Queen cosmos. With Paul Rodgers, however, we can focus more on blues rock, to which Roger and I had dedicated ourselves even before Queen was founded.

Taylor: Ultimately, the new beginning with Paul Rodgers is a risk, because of course we have to prove worthy of the history of our band, but at the same time we have to sound so different that we should not be considered our own cover band.

WELT ONLINE: Why do you, as multimillionaires, still need this balancing act?

May: Good question. When you are 62 years old, like me, you really don't know how much time you have left with your family and you really want to stay at home. But the 16-year-old in me is pushing it outside, to the music and to the audience. It sounds like a cliché, but the passion still forces me to make music in front of other people.

Taylor: For me, it is certainly also the desire to keep value alive in an art form that is becoming more and more worthless because more and more people are frolicking in it without any talent.

WELT ONLINE: You have already dedicated your new single "C-lebrity" to them.

Taylor: The term “celebrity”, which originally implied something like talent, has been completely devalued by people who sleep on talk shows without any talent when they are not scratching their heads. I like vulnerability as a fundamental characteristic of our species. But the openly exposed vulnerability to the greed for the need to be loved at all costs displayed by these modern day "C-lebrities" completely repulses me.

WELT ONLINE: Your former singer has repelled the American Midwest with his leather otherness. Is Paul Rodgers the career saver for Queen in America?

May: Of course, it feels good that we can fill arenas in America again with Paul Rodgers, who is highly regarded by American rock audiences. But America's aversion to Freddie's openly shown gayness, we met with a treat attitude that has done us anything but harm in the rest of the world and from which we in Europe still benefit today.

WELT ONLINE: Who actually belongs to the collecting society Queen?

Taylor: Brian, me and our manager, whose point of view is usually more balanced than ours. We're not trying to plunder our own history in such a way that it looks like it is on sale. On the other hand, we don't even need to, because with the songs “We Will Rock You” and “We Are The Champions” we have created two hymns that are still so popular at sporting events today. So that every ten-year-old can still sing along in 2008.

WELT ONLINE: Then how come you, of all people, as an avowed musical hater, agreed to second part of your Westend box office hit "We Will Rock You"?

Taylor: It's true that musicals are getting on my nerves. Because it often disguises a bad song idea in eleven different variants. I once watched a musical by Lloyd Webber and found it horrifying. I only agreed to our musical because we were able to bring rock into a previously rather lousy theater form. In addition, we retain control over all aspects of the performances. Which guarantees quality.

May: I have less fear of contact with musicals because I'm married to an actress. Ben Elton, our playwright, continued to write the story of Scaramouche and Galileo in the script for the sequel to “We Will Rock You” and when the time is right I would like to turn it into a new musical.

Taylor: I don't like it, but sometimes you get outvoted.

WELT ONLINE: And what should the new musical be called?

May: Isn't that obvious? “The Show Must Go On”, of course.

[cruelfeline]

One of the aspects of Hordak that strikes me so significantly when compared to other characters is the unexpected, terrifying escalation of his situation. 

We don’t really see this happen with anyone else: generally speaking, our other characters are very much a case of “what you see is what you get.” Adora is perhaps a bit of an exception, seeing as her status as “First Ones gun trigger” is used as a plot twist in season four, but her general background and the overall nature of her situation remain fairly consistent throughout the show. 

Same with Catra. Same with Glimmer and Bow. Mermista, Perfuma, Scorpia, Frosta... everyone else receives a backstory and, barring minute elaborations, stays true to our first impressions of them. Our understanding of who they are and what they are about doesn’t really change.

Hordak is not this way.

Hordak starts off as a pretty standard, one-dimensional evil warlord character. Season one finds him very much delegated to the background, supposedly pulling the strings behind the scenes as other characters have their dramas play out center stage. He is well-designed and frightening, an imposing individual with a stoic personality and a sense of reason and logic that marks him as an effective commander. 

We get no backstory at this point, and the initial impression of the character (at least for me) is “capable evil leader, little to no depth beyond what is absolutely necessary.” And that’s fine. At this point in the story, there’s no suggestion that Hordak will have any sort of role save for serving as an ultimate antagonist for our heroes, so a backstory is largely unnecessary. He appears properly built to provide powerful opposition, and that’s all we need.

This is Hordak’s starting point. It is a serviceable starting point. It is also stunningly different from his end point, and at this stage in the series, there is zero indication that there is going to be any alteration, let alone such a dramatic one.

Seasons two and three see Hordak gaining actual development. Significant development. Development that provides him with a painful, sympathetic reason for waging his war. Suddenly, Hordak is not an all-powerful, untouchable warlord. Suddenly, he is a vulnerable individual with significant physical ailments and resulting emotional trauma. 

His situation has escalated. 

We see now that his body is falling apart, that he is sickly and weak and dependent upon armor and bravado to maintain control over his subordinates. We see that he is not the stoic, omnipotent man presented to us in season one. 

Instead, we learn that he is a manufactured clone with deep emotional wounds linked to past rejection and trauma, that he comes from a society where his illness is scorned enough to earn him rejection and what amounts to a death sentence. We come to understand that he views himself very poorly, and that a significant number of his negative character traits are rooted in shame and fear and a desperate need for validation.

we also learn that he has cute lil ears that can wiggle and droop when he’s sad

To these significant developments we add his budding friendship with Entrapta, and we find that Hordak is very much capable of desiring, forming, and maintaining a positive, affectionate relationship with someone. His character thus becomes even more complex.

Now, something to keep in mind at this point: thanks to revelations provided by his backstory, we can view Hordak as a more vulnerable individual with legitimate feelings and insecurities. That said, there is still a certain dangerous edge to him. At this point in the series, we have been told, by Hordak himself, that he was a top general in a much larger version of the Horde. 

This supposed fact somewhat tempers his vulnerability. We get the sense that, while he is suffering from the shame and subsequent rejection brought on by his disability, his ultimate goal of rejoining his brother still involves a certain level of power. There is this idea that, though he wants validation and acceptance, he is also seeking to regain a position that, theoretically, grants him greater power and authority than the one he holds now. Hence why he doesn’t just settle for conquering and ruling Etheria: being lord of Etheria does not hold a candle to the power granted him by regaining his rank as Horde Prime’s top general.

One can look back at the fandom during late 2019 to fully appreciate this: fanfiction from this time period often features headcanons of particularly accomplished clones holding respected positions in Prime’s empire. High ranking clones have names and titles. They have ships. They have their own planets and their own armies. Even though they serve Prime and are, sadly, purpose-bred clones, they have power and status that provide them with a certain level of agency. 

Essentially, there was the idea that a traditional Horde military structure exists, and Hordak held privilege within it.

So, while Hordak’s situation has escalated in emotional poignancy from “evil warlord wanting to rule the world” to “defective clone seeking validation,” there remains an unsympathetic aspect to it. There is still some degree of potential power-hunger that one can attribute to him. 

This changes, very suddenly and traumatically, in seasons four and five. And this, friends and neighbors, is where I begin to become very emotional.

Our first indication that things are about to wildly change comes during the season four finale. We meet Horde Prime. We see how submissive and terrified Hordak is in his presence. We witness Prime’s distaste not only for the state of him and his failed conquest, but for Hordak daring to take a name.

It is Hordak’s name being a problem that plants the seeds for an upheaval of our preconceived notions regarding a clone’s function in the Galactic Horde. Those seeds germinate abruptly and violently in the next few moments as Prime lifts Hordak by the throat, declares him an abomination, and viciously violates and erases his mind.

And oh, friends and neighbors, now we know that something is wrong. 

We don’t quite know the specifics yet, but we know that there is some sort of discrepancy between what Hordak told us and the truth he has lived. At no point in the narrative did Hordak say anything about names being inappropriate. At no point did he say anything that might have prepared us for the suspiciously religiously-coded language Prime is using. At no point did he say anything to suggest that there was anything wrong with what he was doing beyond trying to compensate for a physical disability.

And then, alongside all of these dark little surprises, there are the hauntingly blank stares of the clones standing besides Prime’s throne.

All of these factors instill a sense of dread that culminates in the chilling reveal of the Galactic Horde’s true nature come season five.

It is a cult. An honest-to-the-gods, played-absolutely-straight religious cult.

The Galactic Horde isn’t a traditional army, or an aggressive nation, or even a standard imperialist empire. It is a cult, with Horde Prime as its god and countless clone acolytes acting as its horrifically willing members.

We never see a top general, or any generals at all. We never see any sort of military hierarchy. We never see clones leading armies, or owning ships, or holding ranks, or commanding anyone or anything.

What we see instead is clones blindly worshiping their Brother. We see them doting on him, sacrificing their own life force to maintain his form. We see them forfeiting control of their bodies to him whenever he feels like using another’s form. We see them chanting the virtue of suffering to achieve purity. We see them blank and emotionless save for religious zealotry, a purpose-bred cohort of completely brainwashed followers. We see that there is no apparent escape from this life, for Prime sees their minds and controls every aspect of their existence, and we see that there is no desire for escape among them, so utterly indoctrinated are they.

We see Hordak reduced to one of these cowl-wearing acolytes: nameless, powerless, ready and willing to endure physical agony in order to forget his shame and relinquish his self to his Brother in the hopes of... well, certainly not of regaining some exalted military rank, or of reclaiming some previously-held status. These things do not exist. Not in this actual religious cult.

Hordak’s true situation is now fully apparent, and it is so far removed from our views of him back in previous seasons: rather than being a calculating warlord, or even a defective clone seeking to regain military glory, Hordak is a manufactured soldier-slave who was born into a religious cult, so indoctrinated and bound to his Brother that he risks his own life in order to win Prime’s love and approval.

Because that’s what this final realization confirms: Hordak was never after any sort of power or prestigious military status. They never existed. Hordak was, in the end, an abused slave trying desperately to win love from his loveless master. He truly was just after validation and affection and a feeling of secure belonging. All things that he was deprived of because he was born a slave-acolyte in a godsforsaken cult. 

And that’s... that’s such a vastly different state of affairs than the one we accepted in season one. It completely rewrites our understanding of Hordak’s power, of his vulnerability, of his true wants and needs and desires. Said understanding shifts from a purely villainous one to one steeped in self-loathing and control and lifelong victimization. It is absolutely shocking to see a character’s circumstances completely transform the way Hordak’s do between the show’s beginning and its finale. It is utterly bewildering to witness this intensity of change.

As I stated at the start: this doesn’t happen to anyone else. Oh, other characters develop and grow and undergo their arcs, sure, but by and large, Catra remains a scrappy catgirl. Adora remains an orphaned heroine. Swift Wind remains a revolutionary winged steed.

Only Hordak undergoes a transformation as dramatic as shifting from “all-powerful conquering warlord” to “defective clone seeking validation... but maybe also galactic power” before finally settling, tearfully and painfully, on “shamed, love-starved cult victim.” Only his situation, his true identity and our understanding of it, escalate so shockingly and to such terrifying levels. 

I’m still not over it. I still cry about it. I still feel light-headed sometimes, knowing that Hordak's circumstances revolve around being born into and abused and thrown away by an actual cult. Even though we're over two months out from SPoP's finale, it's still that emotionally powerful to me, and the shock of the difference between seasons one and five only make it more so.

[theodora3022]

Crown Jewel

(noun): a particularly valuable or prized possession or asset.

Pairing: Francis Scott Fitzgerald X fem! former assassin reader

Summary: Having betrayed the Order of the Clock Tower and fled to Japan, you hid your ability and worked at the ADA as a secretary for protection. Life was not as good, but you knew what Lady Christie would do if she discovered a traitor’s whereabouts. You knew someone would dig up your old dirt sooner or later, but why does it have to be this arrogant, awful man? 

Notes: This is really self-indulgent (to satiate my cravings and daddy issues), so read it at your own risk. I am not comfortable with cheating, so Francis is single in this one and never went bankrupt.(But he is still a family man, his wife Zelda passed away before the events in the show) He is an arrogant bastard in canon so you might find his behaviour offensive but that is just how he is. Excuse my pathetic Canadian English, as I cannot write in British English at all. This fic took me too many hours to write, thankfully it is finally done...

Special thanks to my friends for beta reading this long thing, your encouragement and praises are what kept my fragile sanity intact in the process!

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mild bimbofication, mild objectification, coercion, implied dub-con(We all know what happens in marriages right?), Yandere themes

She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines.

She was beautiful for the way she thought.

She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved.

She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad.

No, she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks.

She was beautiful, deep down to her soul.

-F.Scott Fitzgerald

The entire Fitzgerald Estate is finely, thoughtfully decorated, lavish even. Like photographs right out of a luxurious architecture magazine, with marble floors, persian carpets and high raised ceilings. A manor that sits on the top of a little hill, surrounded by trees and flowerbeds. But no matter how beautiful it may be, no one can never feel quite at home in prison. You thought as you lean back on the living room sofa near the patio, slowly dozing off in the afternoon sunlight with a half-read novel on your lap. Maybe you would go for a swim later, you could use a soak before he returns.

It’s easy to forget how much blood is on your hands in peaceful times like these. Ever since he made you dispose of your count book, you can barely remember how many people you had slaughtered.

Your hands were once covered with callouses from hours of training, but now they are as smooth as the velvet curtains. The glow from the big diamond ring on your ring finger irritates you so very often, but he had warned you not to take it off.

“Lady Fitzgerald? Mrs. Smith is here for your fitting session.” It is one of the maids. Ah, is the tailor here already? You put up a smile for the guest and got up, silently cursing your “husband” in the process. Good thing he is at work most of the time, so you can at least enjoy this glamorous life every once in a while without wanting to bury yourself in a bottomless pit.

Another week, another one of those frivolous social events. But you have no choice but to accompany him to every single one of them. While acting as the leader of the Guild, Francis is also the head of the Fitzgerald cooperation, therefore this high society life has always been the norm for him. You, on the other hand, prefer lurking in the shades. All these shimmering lights, noisy parties, fancy dresses and high heels leave you either dazzled or vulnerable. You feel more like his nice accessory, a Christmas bauble than a wife. However, you know your obligations. Be his arm candy, smile, be obedient and not to speak unless spoken to. The alternative of obeying these absurdities is simply unthinkable. Merely the thought can make you feel chills on this warm summer afternoon.

It’s either this or absolute hell. No, that is not an exaggeration.

As an experienced assassin, you had prepared for death since you first signed up for the position. However, no one can bear the Order’s punishments. You know that too well, having witnessed it first-hand countless times.

At least you can live a carefree life with this option. With infuriating restrictions or not, you are still alive and maintain a certain degree of freedom. You should take this compared to an excruciating death any day. Plus you also get to live in extravagance, you cannot hate that for one bit. This rich man has spoiled you to no end, willing to fulfill even your most absurd requests as long as you are his darling wife. Let it be cars, clothes or jewelries, whatever you wish for, Francis would always make sure you got the finest of them.  Not that is ever possible, but you could...get used to this.

However, you utterly despise this title, Lady Fitzgerald? No matter how much he pampers you or showers you with gifts, it would never make up for the fact that you only signed that marriage license under certain conditions. There are those sleepless nights, while you lay under silk quilts in his embrace in some exquisite mansion, you wish you were back in your humble Yokohama flat alone.

---a few months ago

Almost spilling your morning beverage due to running into one of your coworkers at the door, is surely a bad omen, but at the time you did not give it much thought. “Sorry, (y/n)-san. But there is an emergency.” Kirako Haruno?

Work has only just begun, and to your knowledge, there are no major events scheduled for today. Why is she in such a hurry?

Haruno is as terrified as if she just saw a bear in the middle of the street. Strange, since she is usually calm and collected. 

“What has happened? Are you okay?”

“There are foreigners here, they are demanding an audience with the president. (y/n)-san, you can handle them, right? Please, keep them occupied while I notify the president.” Looks like this is your problem now since you speak better English compared to any other in the ADA.

She said it quickly without any pause. Also walked away before you had a chance to refuse, so Haruno missed how the colours suddenly drained from your visage and your horrid expression. 

Oh, dear. Please do not let the foreigners be them… Although not many members of the Order recognizes you as you always don masks even at meetings, you still feel the world may have ended for you, as you wobble out of the office to the reception area with cold sweat. If Haruno had not hurried off, you would have found some excuse to get away from this troublesome situation. You should have called in sick today...

Are they speaking with American accents? Good gracious, you almost had a heart attack over this. You dealt with the Guild before, back when you were still in the Order when you still viewed Lady Christie as your older sister. She used to take you to negotiations meetings. You know how they are, so it should be a cakewalk to keep them occupied for at least a while. But...what if they identify you and report your whereabouts to the Order?! Would they be willing to do Christie this “favour”? The last time you checked, the two organizations were not on exactly friendly terms. So you should be fine as long as you act accordingly. Besides, the agency would not allow foreigners to harm one of their office clerks, precisely why you applied for a job ADA a year-and-a-half ago.

Get your act together, (y/n). Being this panicked is beneath you, everything will be alright as long as you conceal your fears. 

Finishing on your diplomatic front preparation, you greet them with a professional attitude. “Welcome to the Armed Detective Agency, ladies and gentlemen of the Guild.” You try to talk in the calmest tone possible, without stutters. “Now if you would follow me, I shall prepare you some tea. The President will be ready for you shortly.” Now that you have a chance to observe them up close, you had to dig your nails into your palms, pressuring yourself to maintain composure. Why is the leader of the Guild here?! You had seen him before, there is no way you could mistake that arrogant blonde for anyone else. Even though you are pretty confident he would scarcely recognize you without a mask, that tiny possibility feels like a sharp blade pressing against your throat, ready to strike anytime. 

Fitzgerald was not expecting someone who speaks flawless English to receive them. Not someone this cute, too. And here he thought this is just going to be like any other boring business discussion. But he cannot shake off this feeling of how he had seen your enchanting smile somewhere before. It was not easy to leave even a vague impression on the great Francis Scotts Fitzgerald, you must have been someone important. A business partner? A Government Official? Or perhaps a Socialite? You are someone with a high position, that he can be sure. But why would you Oh how he hates having blurry memories of something. As soon as he returns to the Guild base, Francis needs to look into their Database immediately. 

“Earl Grey, imported from England. Would you like some refreshments as well?” Taking out a can of cream biscuits from your desk drawer, you are glad to see the redhead young girl nodding excitedly. You return a genuine smile to her before bending down to fetch the plate. You were not sure if you were just being oversensitive, but you felt a burning gaze on your back when you turned. Your assassin instincts were almost always accurate, could it be that Fitzgerald had remembered something?

“Is there something wrong, Miss? You are sweating so much.” You do appreciate the ginger girl’s kind words, but could she not say it out loud for her boss to hear? You were planning on keeping your panics to yourself. Moving unnoticeable further away from the Guild leader, you gulped nervously. 

“My apologies. I am not feeling well this morning. Now, here’s your biscuits.”

“Aren’t they called cookies? They are truly delicious, thank you so much, Miss. I’m Lucy by the way.”

“In England, we call them biscuits. Would you like some more, Lucy? I have more if you’ll like it.” Her cheerful nature reminds you of a little sister, how could you say no to her pleading eyes. Unfortunately, this also made you forget how you are trying to remain incognito, and you let your hidden past out unintentionally. 

England? That certainly rings a bell for the bright mind of Francis Fitzgerald. And no, he was not eavesdropping. You are talking to his employee, after all. Francis even forgot to scold Lucy about being a demanding guest on cookies because he was so deep in thought, searching for any clue of who you might be. He was about to recall something when you received the president’s notice about the meeting. “The President is ready now, this way please.”

After they entered the office, you realized how you had accidentally exposed yourself while explaining about biscuits. No, now all you can do is pray Fitzgerald was not listening in to that whimsical tea-time conversation. Your stomach suddenly feels queasy, a sign that maybe you should request to go home early. You surely do not want to face those calculating blue eyes again. Heck, you never trembled this badly, not even before the toughest missions. 

He was planning on asking you some questions after that unsuccessful negotiation, but it would seem like you had taken a sick leave early. 

You seem to be rather nervous around him. Suspicious. 

Yet Francis cannot stop thinking about how you cared for Lucy. That consideration, if his little daughter is still around, she is bound to love you… It could just be professional kindness, but Francis had seen enough people to tell what is a facade or not. Zelda was like this too, in fact, it’s this admirable quality that had drawn him in the first place.

The great Fitzgerald had seen so many beautiful women, but your unparalleled warmth and grace outshine all appearances. 

Wait, Francis had finally cleared the fog now. Aren’t you that girl with Agatha Christie, the head knight of the Order of the Clock Tower? No wonder you speak of England. He was so shocked when Christie introduced you as one of her finest knights. You were so friendly and lighthearted, how can you be that notorious master Assassin? It does not matter whether you had a mask on or not, he remembers those lovely (colour) eyes too well. He had found you to be alluring back then, but at that time he was too busy to concern himself with amorous feelings. Going through the guild files, he found that statement from Christie about how you had defected from the Order and a bounty for your whereabouts.

So, you are hiding from your former Organization? That is unfortunate. Francis had heard a word or two about how the Order is feared for its gruesome torture methods, how they still implement the old ways without mercy. You would rather work as a low-wage secretary then continue being one of their most esteemed Knights, something must have gone terribly wrong. 

This is the perfect wager to let you, a kind, independent strong woman, bend to his will. 

Now that he had thought about it, coming back home to a loving wife once again sounds more than wonderful. Having someone by his side forever, to love, to spoil, to have a family with had always been what he wanted. But fate has been cruel to Francis on this matter and had taken them away way too soon. 

This time, he would make sure to do it right. Francis is determined not to let the tragedy repeat itself.

You were surprised by that clearly expensive gift box on your desk the next day you arrived at work. There is a letter attached to it? Your heart dropped when you saw the Guild's emblem embedded on the wax seal. What could they possibly want from you apart from...that?

“Dear Ms(y/n), Sir Francis S FitzGerald would like you to join him for dinner at (location). Please put on the dress in the box attached and be at (location) at seven p.m sharp.” 

What a condescending letter. Not even a polite invitation, just saying he wants you there? You knew how this Fitzgerald is, that arrogant and greedy type, who would value money above conscience. Well, you still got some savings left, if that could shut him up you would not mind emptying your pockets.

You can never let her find you. Suicide before she did is a possible option, but you decided to save that as the last resort.

That is why you decided to put on that dress and go to meet him at this high-end western restaurant. 

The hem of the dress is too short for your likings, but its sublime texture made you presume it costs a fortune. You cannot even recall when was the last time you had don such fine material. Life as a Knight major feels nothing more than a fever dream when Agatha was still your friend, your dear Commander.

What is Fitzgerlad’s intention of giving you such a scandalous dress? Is this some peculiar way to humiliate you? This is why you are better off acting as the blade, never as the tactician. Mind games were never your forte. 

You are wearing that dress as Francis asked, good. He knew you would look gorgeous in it. It’s such a shame you always covered yourself up. Why wear those cheap, conservative trash when you can wear this?

Someone like you needs to be cherished, to be coddled. You do not belong in the shades or some little office.

“Mr. Fitzgerald. How may I help you today?” God, you feel almost naked in this piece of cloth, but you know you had to grin and bear it as he has the upper hand for now. “If this is about that business permit, I am not the one to make decisions.”

“Why, you are not going to thank me for the dress? You look absolutely breathtaking if you are wondering.” Crap, he is wearing a suit of a matching colour. Has he done this on purpose?

You blush a bit at Francis’s generous compliment, but you did not foreget why you are here.

“Please, do sit. And call me Francis, Miss.” Pulling the chair out for you, Francis smiled politely before signalling the waiters to bring out the appetizers. He is acting way too nice if all he wants is blackmailing you. You were expecting a simple, cold business trade, not...whatever this can be called.

“So, how is Lady Christie doing?” You put down the wine glass, sensing his malicious intent and narrowing your eyes. Of course, he knows, you should have expected this much from the leader of the Guild and an accomplished businessman. Lady Christie must have sent out wanted advertisements, too. 

“If you know this much then you must know I am not a part of the Order anymore.” Just name the price already, then you can both go back to your respective businesses and forget your paths ever crossed.

Clever one, although Francis would expect anything less from someone like you. Not just anyone could be the Knight major of that Order after all. You sighed with frustration, clearly wanting to get this over with. “How much do you need? I still have a decent sum in my bank account.” It would probably be a large price, coming from this greedy man, but you are willing to pay for it as long as he stays silent.

You, trying to bribe him? How adorable. You must have been incredibly oblivious to not notice his intentions. Yes, normally a good check would silence Francis, but can’t you see he is not after your money here?

Instead of taking the pen, Francis shoved his smartphone in front of your face. 

You turn paler when you figure out the contents. It was an email draft, a draft intended for your former Commander. It tells how the Guild is doing her a big favour by returning her astray Knight major to her proper place. Did he type out an email already? You can already feel those cold dungeon bars on your skin. 

“Is money not enough? What exactly do you need?” Calm down, (y/n). If Francis did not send that email, it means negotiation is still possible. Just give him what he needs and be done with it. 

To your shock, the blonde smiled smugly and said: “I want you to join the Guild.”

Join the Guild? “As an assassin?” Of course, he is after your ability. It was what made you a high ranking knight, no wonder he would want that for his organization. 

“Not exactly. You see, I’m looking for a...personal bodyguard.” Hm, Francis is fond of the word “personal” in this context, it makes him feel like you are one of his possessions already.

“If you have any knowledge about my ability at all, you should know I am no good for frontal combat. With your status, fitting individuals would come running.” Is he toying with you? How despicable. Only a dastard would toy with someone’s mind, especially someone desperate.

Carefully taking your hand into his, feeling your soft skin and those light calluses on your fingers, Francis knows he has to do this the blunt way. You are such a fool when it comes to romantic relationships. 

“Be my wife, you don’t need to worry about being discovered ever again. Christie cannot touch you as long as you are by my side. You can have whatever you want, just say the word. ”

This has to be a hallucination. Be his...wife? “Mr. Fitzgerald, have you got hit on the head earlier?” Feeling his forehead with the back of your hand: “You do not seem to have a fever. Are you feeling unwell?” Is he out of his mind? You, his wife? You are a dangerous assassin with a high headcount, not exactly wife material. No one sane wishes to be involved with you romantically, or so you thought.

He was not expecting such an eccentric reaction. Most women would be over the moon with the mere thought of becoming his mistress, not to mention an actual wife. Francis knows you are different, but this is out of his wildest predictions. 

You are even harder to predict than the stock market of New York.

“This is a serious offer, love. Do you take my words as some jester’s joke?” He is not joking? Oh dear, you don’t want to marry this man. He did not even properly court you? And it is not like he is giving you a real choice either.

“What, are you going to refuse? That is fine, surely this email could bring a smile to Christie's face.” “No, please don’t send that email!”The way your pupils shrink suddenly gives him heartaches, but this is the necessary measure to make sure you are compliant. Francis had promised to spoil you, but sadly this is not a matter he can compromise with. He could make it up with gifts and attention later right? This life in exile is not fitting for a lady like you, so why don’t you let him take care of you? Don’t you understand what could happen to you had he not intervened?

That trembling little nod is all Francis needs for confirmation. As he brings your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss, he swore silently to himself how he would never repeat his previous mistakes.

“Now, let us go ring shopping. Pick the biggest diamond one if you like, but make sure to select it out with a matching one.”

----Back to present

After the fitting appointment, you decided to spend the rest of the afternoon with some confectionary practices. You remember well how Francis’s face would lit up like a Christmas tree if he comes home to the smell of your bakings. It disgusts you how much he loves your docile mask, how you are his perfect housewife, his Mrs. Fitzgerald. This bastard do take pleasure in others pain.

Still, you must keep your “husband” happy. Humming your favourite melody in a pink apron, you try to imagine you are just doing this for only your own amusement, in your own house to make this more bearable. 

Baking is one of the many hobbies you picked up after becoming Lady Fitzgerald. You could not work, neither as an assassin nor a secretary, as he is concerned about your “safety”: “Why should my lovely wife trouble herself with those headaches? You should spend your day doing whatever interests you, like painting or knitting! Tell me anytime if you need tutors.” Then Francis gave your head a few pats as if you are some cute puppy? You can never count how many screws he got loose.

What interests you? Well, stabbing Francis in his sleep could hardly count as a suitable hobby. Guess you’ll have to think of other ways to utilize those kitchen knives.  Since he forbids you to train with weapons, you are stuck with those pathetic feminine leisure activities. 

Placing the tray onto the preheated oven rack, you were cleaning up the mess from the process when two strong arms abruptly wrapped around your waist from behind. You knew exactly who it is since you had sensed his presence when he first set a foot into this ridiculously large kitchen. You also had to take deep breaths, reminding yourself why you shouldn’t just aim your fists at Francis’s nose then and there. These past few months with him had raised your resilience to an incredible level, you could tolerate his demanding physical affections without the urge to jump off a cliff now. 

Curling your lips upwards, you push yourself to leave a light peck on the tall blonde man’s left cheek. That is mandatory, you had learned that on the first day here. “You’re home early.” The way you say those words is so sweet, even sweeter than those sugary treats in the oven. Even though you have to be careful, not letting the venom underneath slip out.

This is what Francis S. Fitzgerald longs to come home to, the love of his life after a day of gruelling meetings and other work. Once a renowned assassin, a second-in-command Knight in a Prestigious Royal Order, but now you are just his little housewife. He could never find a shinier trophy to demonstrate his power and influence. The haughty Blonde knows you have not entirely given up on the idea of escaping, still holding a grudge towards him, time will tell whether you accept your place or not. But that does not matter now, right now the Guild leader just wants to watch some brainless tv show on the sofa, with you on his lap to unwind, some Bordeaux would be nice too. He could handle all those business meetings if that means holding you to sleep every night. The sight of your smile makes it all worth it. 

You belong to him now, his most prized possession, the crown jewel of Francis Fitzgerald’s collection.

And you have no say in the matter as long as you wish to stay in the land of the living.

It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving,

But like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.

-F.Scott Fitzgerald

(Hey! Thank you for reading! Commetns and reblogs would be greately appreciated!)

[whumpster-fire]

Safety in a World of Daemons

So one really scary thing about a world of corporeal daemons is just how vulnerable it makes you. Everyone basically has two bodies, one of which is often much smaller and more fragile than a human body, and a lethal injury to either of them will kill you, and also you can’t be more than a certain distance apart or you’ll suffer excruciating pain / lose consciousness. Now, while Lyra’s world has a decent amount of modern technology like internal combustion engines, electric lighting, plastic textiles (aka coalsilk), and nuclear power (atom bombs and “atomcraft” get mentioned it seems like it’s socially The Good Old Days when child labor was widespread and OSHA didn’t exist. But what safety measures would a more modern society develop to keep humans and daemons safe?

Seatbelts developed and came into wide use earlier in Lyra’s world compared to ours, compared to the development of motorized vehicles. The myth of being “thrown clear” of a crash could never take hold to nearly the same extent, because people may not understand the forces involved in being flung through a windshield and skidding a hundred feet across pavement and the damage that does to your body, but everyone has an intuitive understanding that if your smaller/lighter daemon sitting in the front passenger seat bounces off the windshield, or ends up in the footwell, or gets “thrown clear” a hundred feet across pavement in a different direction, you’re probably going to be lying unconscious in the middle of the road. Cars typically have modular restraint systems to accomodate different daemon forms. Daemons should NOT stand on the dashboard, on the seat headrest, on their human’s shoulder, or on their human’s lap while their human is driving.

The “Drybox.” This is a device which can be used to keep small daemons with non-cold-tolerant forms safe from hypothermia in water survival situations. It’s basically an airtight container or bag you can put your daemon in and seal off, that’s connected to a pair of one-way valves with the inlet valve connected to a mouthpiece. This is meant for situations like airplane (or zeppelin) water landings. The way it works is you breathe in through your nose and breathe out through your mouth into the tube. This will push air out the outflow valve, and completely replace the air in the container in a few breaths. Yes I’m aware that you breathe out CO2 which is toxic. Exhaled air is about 18% oxygen and 4% CO2, and breathing extra rapidly might result in more oxygen and less CO2 in exhaled air. 18% O2 is roughly equivalent to going up 5,000 ft in altitude, and 4% CO2 is below the levels that cause suffocation, so a daemon shouldn’t die from breathing air that’s been through human lungs once for a few hours. It would definitely feel awful to use one, but it’s safer than a daemon in the form of a small animal being soaked to the skin and half-immersed in cold seawater while bobbing up and down in the waves. Some versions can be connected to an oxygen supply or a manual pump instead.

If you are on an airplane or helicopter and the oxygen masks deploy (not a zeppelin, they don’t go high enough to need them), put your own mask on first, and put your daemon’s mask on second before you mess with anybody else’s. If only one of you has oxygen then you’re going to pass out but the one who has oxygen will be functional for a bit longer; therefore it is in your best interests for the one with opposable thumbs to get the mask first. People with monkey daemons please stop arguing with flight attendants about this. If your daemon has a form that can’t easily wear an oxygen mask, there are quick-connect adapters available, as well as containers that a smaller daemon can climb into, but these may be slower to use. In some cases it is best to form a “Buddy system.” If you have a trusted friend or family member seated next to you whose daemon can easily wear an oxygen mask, it may be safer to put their daemon’s mask on before your own to make sure they remain capable of putting your masks on. Yes, you will have to break the taboo to do this, but that’s better than death or brain damage from hypoxia. Some bird forms can get enough oxygen at high elevations that they don’t need a mask. For your safety, most national aviation regulations require that you declare your daemon’s species when purchasing a ticket and only sit in your assigned seat, so that you can be placed in appropriate seating and be provided with any specialized safety equipment you need prior to the flight. Children with unsettled daemons must demonstrate that they have the ability to memorize and follow an evacuation plan that includes changing to an appropriate form.

Daemons have no need to ever wear collars to identify themselves, but it’s surprisingly common to see larger daemons that can’t be carried by their humans wearing a harness and a brightly colored leash. This isn’t a fashion statement, it’s a safety device. Most humans and daemons are always careful to keep track of where each other are, but it’s not foolproof, and when boarding a train, or an elevator, or a bus or streetcar, in a crowded place where you might be distracted and everyone else is distracted, there is a risk of your daemon being caught on the other side of a door from you. If you are boarding or getting off a bus or train or elevator or anything like that, and you see a leash caught in a door, you slam the nearest emergency stop button IMMEDIATELY.

There are a lot of other environments where people and daemons need to be physically strapped or tethered together - e.g. whitewater rafting, boating. If they can’t be attached to your life jacket, then unless they can fly they need to have their own life jacket and be tethered to you, because otherwise getting swept apart by rapids or current could pull you out of range, and falling off a motorboat going at, like, 30 mph or faster could pull you 50+ feet away from them faster than either of you can even react to jump off after each other, and even with a life jacket being in the water and unconscious or incapacitated from pain is really fucking dangerous.

Same goes for climbing. I don’t care how good a climber your cat or squirrel daemon is, or if they can survive massive falls without injury, because if they free-fall five stories then either you will lose your grip and fall, or end up dangling limply from a rope.

Lockout Tagout systems are designed so that anyone accessing dangerous machinery has two keys, one for themselves and one that their daemon has to wear at all times. If your daemon is too small to wear the key, then they have to be in a locked cage that is physically attached to you, and the key to the cage is attached to the lock that you lock out the machine with. Mechanics’ daemons have a habit of crawling into tight spaces to look at things their humans can’t see or reach, or retrieve dropped tools, and at some point at least one idiot took their lock off while their daemon was still in a hazardous area and got a safety regulation made in their honor when somebody else turned on the machine.

Yes, your daemon needs eye/ear/respiratory protection in the shop/construction site. Unless your daemon’s shape completely prevents you from performing essential job functions (like a crocodile daemon and you need to climb ladders) your employer cannot terminate or refuse to hire you based on your daemon’s form, and they are legally required to provide you both with appropriate safety equipment.